Hellenistic Tragedy: Texts, Translations and a Critical Survey 9781472593245, 9781472523945

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Abbreviations CIG

Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum, Berlin 1825–77.

CIJ

J.-B. Frey, Corpus Inscriptionum Judaicarum. Recueil des inscriptions juives qui vont du Ille siècle av. J.-C. au Vlle siècle de notre ère, 2 vols., Roma 1936–52.

FD

Fouilles de Delphes, Paris 1902–.

FGrH

F. Jacoby, Die Fragmente der Griechischen Historiker. Leiden 1923–58.

ID

Inscriptions de Délos, Paris 1926–72

IG

Inscriptiones Graecae, Berlin 1873–.

llasos

W. Blümel, Die Inschriften von lasos, 2 vols. Bonn 1985.

IMagn

O. Kern, Die Inschriften von Magnesia am Meander, Berlin 1900.

KP

Der kleine Pauly: Lexikon der Antike auf der Grundlage von Pauly’s Real-Encyclopädie (…), hrsg. von K. Ziegler, W. Sontheimer. Stuttgart 1964–75.

LGPN

Lexicon of Greek Personal Names, P. M. Fraser and E. Matthews (eds), vols I–VA. Oxford, 1987–2010.

LSJ

A Greek–English Lexicon compiled by H. G. Liddell and R. Scott. A new edition revised and augmented by Sir H. S. Jones with the assistance of R. McKenzie and with the cooperation of many scholars. Oxford, 1940.

LSJ-SP

Greek–English Lexicon Revised Supplement, ed. P. G. W. Glare, with the assistance of A. A. Thompson. Oxford, 1996.

OGIS

W. Dittenberger, Orientis Graeci inscriptiones selectae. Leipzig 1903–5.

OLD

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

PAPPE

W. Pappe, Wörterbuch der griechischen Eigennamen. Dritte Auflage, neu bearbeitet v. G. E. Benseler. Braunschweig 1911.

PCG

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

RE

Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, neue Bearbeitung begonnen v. G. Wissowa, fortgeführt von W. Kroll und K. Mittelhaus, unter Mitwirkung zahlreicher Fachgenossen herausgegeben von K. Ziegler. Stuttgart–München 1893–1978.

Abbreviations

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Σ

Scholia, scholion.

SEG

Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum, Leiden 1923–.

SGF

Satyrographorum Graecorum Fragmenta collegit disposuit adnotationibus criticis instruxit V. Steffen Poznań 1952.

SIG3

W. Dittenberger, Sylloge inscriptionum graecarum. Leipzig 1915–24.

TGF

Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, rec. A. Nauck. Lipsiae 1889.

TrGF

Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, vol. 1, Didascaliae Tragicae, Catalogi Tragicorum et Tragoediarum Testimonia et Fragmenta Tragicorum Minorum, ed. B. Snell, ed. correctior et addendis aucta curavit R. Kannicht. Göttingen 1986.

TrGF 2

Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, vol. 2, Fragmenta Adespota, Testimonia Volumini 1 Addenda, Indices ad Volumina 1 et 2, R. Kannicht and B. Snell (eds). Göttingen 1981.

List of Figures 1. Dress rehearsal of a satyr play (first century bc, original c.310–280 bc). Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali-Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompei. 2. A tragic poet contemplating a mask (the source of his inspiration), or considering whether it suits a character from his work. Webster (1970), p. 159, posited that this image could be a copy of a portrait of Philiscus by Protogenes. Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività CulturaliSoprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompei. 3. A silver kantharos with Lycophron in front of a mask (in front of him, not visible in the picture, is Cassandra, the heroine of his most famous poem, Alexandra). Bibliothèque nationale de France. 4. A silver skyphos from the treasure of Boscoreale, representing Moschion as a skeleton. Musée du Louvre. 5. Moschion. The hands and head are an element of sculptural reconstruction. Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali-Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompei. 6. Scene from a tragedy (from the House of the Comedians, Delos), most probably a Hellenistic revival of Sophocles’ Oedipus at Colonus. Archaeological Museum of Delos. ©Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports/21st Ephorate of Antiquities/Delos Museum. 7. A wall fresco depicting the scenery of a satyr play and tragedy. Frescoes from the Villa of P. Fannius Synistor, Bocoreale. The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Rogers Fund, 1903 (03.14.13a–g). Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. 8. A wall fresco depicting the scenery of a tragedy from Herculaneum. Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali-Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompei. 9. A tragic actor after his appearance. A servant takes off his mask. At the back is possibly the second actor taking off his costume (the hair of both actors is sweaty due to wearing the masks). Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Su concessione



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del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali-Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompei. 10. A scene from a tragedy. Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali-Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompei.

Preface The Hellenistic period is for the researcher on drama above all a time of the birth and development of New Comedy. This form of Greek comedy gained huge popularity in all areas of the world inhabited by Greeks and indubitably played a key role in the dissemination of Greek culture. Alongside comedy, however, tragedy and satyr plays were no less popular in every theatre. The works of Menander and his contemporaries have stood the test of time and have had a great influence on stage performances in Europe, thanks chiefly to their famous Roman imitators, Plautus and Terence. Tragedy and satyr drama, however, has fallen into oblivion and has not survived to our times. Only fragments of the texts remain to us, preserved in the works of other writers or on pieces of papyrus or in inscriptional references to the plays, which were once put on in competition for public favour. This by no means proves the superiority of New Comedy, as many works of eminent Hellenistic poets have also been lost: Callimachus, Alexander Aetolus and – ironically – also works by the comic playwrights themselves, including Menander. Papyrus findings have now supplied us with greater fragments from the literary output of these – and not only these – Hellenistic writers. However, in contrast to the poetry of Callimachus or the plays of Menander, which posterity knew to be distinguished works, Hellenistic tragedy did not enjoy high esteem in subsequent years. The decline of the tragic genre was predicted almost a century before the onset of the Hellenistic period by an aged Aristophanes, who one day in the year 405 brought onstage Heracles and Dionysus, engaged in the following pessimistic dialogue: HERACLES Now we have an abundance of such striplings, Writing thousands of tragedies, and then some, More loquacious than Euripides! DIONYSUS Those are mere washings, vacuous chatterers, screeching swallows and bunglers of the art. So soon forgotten, once they get a chorus They trifle with a single tragedy. And a real poet you’ll not find, Were you to search an entire year for one of noble words. Frogs 89–97

Thus the comic dramatist, who after the death of Euripides, expressed his regret and disappointment on observing the theatrical efforts of his colleagues in Greek tragedy at the turn of the fourth century bc. Then, as now, he was not alone in

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holding this opinion. When studying the history of drama it is easy to note that most publications, even if their titles include phrases such as ‘Greek Theatre’, ‘Greek Tragedy’ or ‘Ancient Drama’, essentially limit themselves to the classical period, rarely referring to fourth-century plays and virtually never mentioning Hellenistic tragedy. Admittedly, the very origins of theatre are every so often the subject of heated debate, with many publications fiercely defending one stance or another.1 The ‘dark ages’ of Greek tragedy and the satyr play, issues concerning how such forms came to be and their mysterious connotations, are no doubt an interesting subject, one that has since Aristotle’s day allowed for the intellectual reflections and speculations (albeit unverifiable) of many scholars. Nevertheless, the prevailing opinion is that Greek drama ended as it began, in the fifth century bc, and is essentially limited to Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides and Aristophanes. Of course, this notion stems in its entirety from the fact that, unlike those of other dramatists, the works of these particular authors are the ones that have survived to this day, and these are the works that have been studied since. Ever since they became established as the classics of the stage these plays have never ceased to be performed, and, embellished with countless commentaries and scholia, they continue to be set literature in schools. It is therefore hardly surprising that these three Athenian tragedians are so immensely popular, and yet this does not alter the fact that such a point of view greatly distorts our understanding of ancient Greek theatre. More has been written about individual plays of the three great tragedians than about the sum total of the entire works of all the postClassical dramatists, including those of the once very popular Menander. Present-day scholars, following on, as it were, from the famous statement in Aristophanes’ Frogs (71/72): Δέομαι ποητοῦ δεξιοῦ. Οἱ μὲν γὰρ οὐκέτ’ εἰσίν, οἱ δ’ ὄντες κακοί, (‘I need a clever poet. There aren’t any left – all the current ones are rubbish’) usually conclude their analyses with the sad reflection that the fourth century bc marked the decline and eventual demise of ancient Greek tragedy. Such views are hardly surprising, for the few extant fragments of plays from the post-Classical period in no way compare well with the works of the great tragedians. However, these fragments do not constitute unequivocal historical evidence that such was the state of Greek tragedy in general. But regardless of this fact, scholars have continued to support the pessimistic theory in successive publications.2 Only rarely, in recent years, have articles appeared expressing criticism of this communis opinio. Certainly the unfavourable opinion of modern scholars on the subject of Hellenistic tragedy was also unexpectedly shared Important treatments on the origins of Greek tragedy and religion include e.g.: Patzer (1962); Else (1965); Burkert (1966); Lesky (1983); Herrington (1985); Winkler (1990); Seaford (1995); Rozik (2002); Scullion (2002, 2005); Sourvinou-Inwood (2003). 2 Very important here seems to be the impact of F. Nietzsche’s The Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of Music (1872) and his opinion on the decline of tragedy already evident in the time of Euripides. Subsequently scholars expressed strong opinions on the post-Classical decline of tragedy. See, for example, A. E. Haigh (1896), p. 434: The tragic drama, after it had passed out of the hands of the Athenians, and been transformed into a cosmopolitan institution, though it advanced to the highest pitch of external splendour, steadily declined in real significance; De Romilly (1970), pp. 153–4: ‘Mais ce progrès même porte en lui, pour la tragédie, des germes de mort. Et, à force d’innovations, l’on sent par fois que l’on arrive à la limite du genre’; or Rachet (1973), p. 238, in the chapter entitled ‘La fin de la tragédie grecque’: ‘Les innovations des Agathon, des Critias, des Karkinos, des Moschion, représentent des signes évidents de decadence et annoncent la fin de la tragédie’. 1

xii Preface by Callimachus himself. His critical observation – surely not without some malice – in Iamb 2, 12, that οἱ δὲ τραγῳδοὶ τῶν θάλασσαν ο̣ἰ̣[κεύντων ἔχο[υ]σι φωνήν (tragic artists have the voice of sea-dwelling creatures) was interpreted as an expression of disapproval of tragic composition in his generation. Although it is actually impossible to establish exactly what Callimachus had in mind when speaking of the voice of sea-dwelling creatures,3 the outcome of the whole context is that this is the fastidious criticism of tragic actors (probably in equal part of how and what they perform). The problem for us, however, is the reliability of Callimachus’ assertion, which unapologetically attacks authors of different genres as well. His ideological-literary polemic, of course, concerns above all the genre of epic, but much indicates the fact that in the case of drama his personal preferences did not reflect the tastes of the contemporary audience.4 It is also worthwhile to observe the fact that he does not criticize the dramatists themselves (at that time he would have been attacking his friends from the Museion: Lycophron and Alexander Aetolus), but rather the performers: that is, the actors.5 Callimachus was a great poet and an unequalled individual of the Alexandrian period, yet while his literary opinions were not shared by all the intellectuals of the time, they did reach a wide audience. An attempt to properly verify such conventional wisdom regarding post-Classical tragedy therefore seems justified. After all, we know that tragedy not only continued to be staged in the Greek world for another four centuries, but also experienced a period of unprecedented popularity, with countless performances, and even underwent some significant changes. Hellenistic tragedy influenced the birth of Roman tragedy as well as the development of other theatrical forms (e.g. comedies and mime) and literature (Greek romance). If only for these reasons, the subject deserves detailed research. In the recent decades scholars have taken up this topic with increasing eagerness, and pay increasing attention to the role of tragedy in the cultural life of towns. A type of slow rehabilitation of this genre is beginning, thanks in particular to the work of B. Le Guen, P. Easterling, G. Xanthakis-Karamanos and others. However, the main reason for writing a book on tragedies and satyr plays in the Hellenistic period is simply because in themselves they constitute an exceptionally interesting subject. What makes it fascinating is above all the great difference between Classical and Hellenistic tragedy. Many elements of the Hellenistic performance are very well known and paradoxically even became the hallmarks of ancient theatre: the perspective added to the stage scenery, the actors wearing long robes, kothurnoi and high onkos-masks, the theatre building and the closed stage on the logeion. This enigmatic expression has earned a rich bibliography. Platt (1910) thinks of the sounds of seagulls; Immisch (1930), p. 161, believes it refers to the hollow echo of a conch; Pfeiffer (1949), p. 173, observes only that it does not refer to dumb creatures; Bing (1981) suggests that we should understand it as the unmusicality (pylon amouson) of the sea creatures; Nikitinski (1998) observes that it refers to the cacophony of actors. See also the discussion in Kerkhecker (1999), pp. 18f; Acosta-Hughes (2002), pp. 187f. 4 On the subject of possible criticism of New Comedy, see Thomas (1979). 5 Although in fragment 215, 1 he probably criticizes the genre in general. The word ληκυθίζω has many meanings (etymologically: to speak into a lekythos, a vessel with a narrow neck), and might denote a deaf sound of the type made when actors spoke through theatrical masks, or figuratively to declaim cant; this is possibly related to Ar. Ra. 1200–48: see Thomas (1979), pp. 189f. However, this fragment is without a context. 3

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Nevertheless the plays that engaged the ancient audience in a specific world that was maintained until the end of the final act have remained until now an almost completely unexploited subject for scholarly research. The contemporary political themes of these plays might even surprise many who are accustomed to the mythical heroes of the fifth century. The actual authors of these tragedies are also, in themselves, interesting: scholars such as Lycophron and Callimachus, philosophers such as Timon of Phlius, professional tragedians like Astydamas III or Sophocles, descendant of the famous Sophocles, and even rulers, such as Ptolemy IV or Artavasdes of Armenia. Tragedies were performed throughout the Greek-speaking oikoumene, and the audiences reached unprecedented proportions. The theatre was a universal form of entertainment, as well as an opportunity for public gatherings. But above all theatre was a cornerstone of Greek culture and a chief instrument of Hellenization, a process in which tragedy played no small role. This book has been written to fill a rather conspicuous gap in the study of the history of ancient drama. As has already been noted, a great deal has so far been written about the tragedies and comedies of the Classical period, as well as the works of Menander. In contrast, the tragedies and dramas of the Hellenistic period are virtually non-existent in academic literature – not a single work has been entirely devoted to this particular subject, which makes it a curiosum in the long history of Classical literature and philology as well as in the now extensive research into theatre history. This monograph was originally written as a doctoral dissertation at the University of Wroclaw Institute of Classical Philology and Ancient Culture and was first published in 2006 under the Polish title Tragedia hellenistyczna. The supervisor of that project was the late Prof. Janina Ławińska-Tyszkowska, to whom I remain grateful for her great help and generosity. This new English edition has been developed from that original version. During the lapse of these few years my views on certain points have naturally changed. This book also contains a great deal of new source material, most notably of all a new chapter concerning Hellenistic tragedy with a biblical theme. The chief representative of this genre was of course the tragedian Ezekiel, 269 verses of whose drama entitled Exagoge have survived to this day. Over the past 150 years both Ezekiel and his play have been the subject of much detailed research. One could even say that in recent decades the subject has been so popular among scholars that today he is one of the most extensively discussed Hellenistic authors. In this book, however, his work is presented against the background of other Hellenistic dramas. Although Exagoge most probably had no meaningful influence on Greek theatre, in some way it must have reflected certain contemporary trends and been an integral part of the genre. In fact Exagoge is not the only example of drama with a biblical theme, or what scholars call tragedies with a Jewish topic. We also have other fragments of clearly Jewish provenance as well as reference to a drama by Nicholaus of Damascus, written against the background of the biblical story of Susanna. Taken together, all these fragments and testimonia form a coherent image of a peculiar and original Jewish genre which drew inspiration from historic Classical tragedy as well as then-popular Hellenistic tragedies such as Lycophron’s Marathonians and Allies or Moschion’s Themistocles. In addition, it also constituted an indubitably important eastern element of Hellenistic aesthetics.

xiv Preface The first incomplete edition of Hellenistic tragedy is found in A. Nauck’s seminal Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta. An important supplement to this work is R. J. Walker’s Addenda Scenica (1923), which includes some Hellenistic fragments. The first history of Greek tragedy to discuss the issues that interest us here is F. G. Welcker’s Die griechischen Tragödien mit Rücksicht auf den epischen Cyclus (vol. III, 1841). Of the more contemporary studies of ancient Greek literature that also refer to Hellenistic tragedy, one should include W. Schmid’s study of W. von Christ’s fundamental Geschichte der griechischen Litteratur and O. Stählin’s Die nachklassische Periode der griechischen Litteratur. Von 320 vor Christus bis 100 nach Christus. The chief reference source and basis for this book has been the 1929 doctoral thesis of the Silesian priest F. Schramm, which is entitled Tragicorum Graecorum hellenisticae, quae dicitur, aetatis fragmenta [praeter Ezechielem] eorumque de vita atque poesi testimonia collecta et illustrata. This has greatly influenced the way this book has been written; for instance, the order in which the poets and tragedians of the Alexandrian Pleiad have been mentioned. On account of the time when it was written, Schramm’s work fails to mention more recent papyrus discoveries, and, owing to its form (comments added to texts), it also lacks any general conclusions concerning tragedy as a dramatic genre in the Hellenistic period. The main edition of the texts used in this book is B. Snell’s Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, vol. 1, Didascaliae Tragicae, Catalogi Tragicorum et Tragoediarum, Testimonia et Fragmenta Tragicorum Minorum. (1986), as well as B. Snell and R. Kannicht’s Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, vol. 2, Fragmenta Adespota, Testimonia Volumini 1 Addenda, Indices ad Volumina 1 et 2, (1981). With regard to satyr plays, whose development in the Hellenistic period has been studied in far greater depth than that of tragedies, one should first and foremost look to R. Krumeich, N. Pechstein and B. Seidensticker’s Das griechische Satyrspiel (1999). Mention should also be made of a collective work published by B. von Gauly, Musa tragica: die griechische Tragödie von Thespis bis Ezechiel (1991), which includes German translations of what that book’s authors consider to be the most important fragments of Hellenistic tragedies and satyr plays, with short commentaries and an important introduction by A. Kannicht. Two works by Greek scholars constitute a very important contribution to the study of post-Classical drama: G. Xanthakis-Karamanos’ Studies in Fourth Century Tragedy (1980) concerns tragedies of the earlier period, while G. M. Sifakis’ Studies in the History of Hellenistic Drama (1967) deals with many aspects of Hellenistic drama, though, by the author’s own admission, in a very selective way. Many fragments have now acquired their own, individual explanations, but such papers are usually of only a contributory nature with regard to general research. Despite their undoubted importance, they are too numerous to be referred to here, so instead they have been listed in the bibliography. Chapter 1 of this book has the character of a brief introduction, the aim of which is to present to the reader the most characteristic features of Hellenistic tragedy and what distinguishes it from tragedy of earlier periods. I present the state of extant fragments as well as the influence this has had on the study of extant texts. Some space has been devoted to the theoretical issues that were of particular importance to Hellenistic authors. Insofar as extant texts permit it, I have also tried to outline the specific problems and subjects that particular tragedies were trying to deal with, as well as

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issues concerning the language of the actual plays. The final section of Chapter 1 is devoted to the presentation of questions relating to satyr drama from the Hellenistic period. On account of the nature of the subject and the sparseness of relevant literature, in Chapter 2 of this book I feel obliged to present brief descriptions of the works and personalities of Hellenistic tragedians. Ancient references to their lives and ancient citations of these Hellenistic playwrights are evidence of their popularity in their day and the fact that they were also read by later generations. In order to be objective and honest, each short biography starts with the quotation of such ancient references and play fragments in Greek and in English translation. I have done my utmost to be faithful to the original, particularly with regard to testimonies originating from scholia and lexicons, so as to preserve the specifically banal and sometimes stylistically atrocious quality of the original texts. Due to the language of inscriptions being replete with the trite phrases of tributes, erected monuments and dedications, which not only frequently hinder comprehension, but are also very often irrelevant to this study, I have decided to modify the subchapter concerning tragedians mentioned exclusively in epigraphic sources. I quote the inscriptions in their original language in full, but only sum up the essence of what they say for those who cannot read ancient Greek. Here I have avoided translation as it would only disrupt the narrative, all the more so because many inscriptions contain references to more than one author. I have also tried to draw the reader’s attention to some aspects of Hellenistic tragedy and drama that lay beyond the theatre building and stage. It is impossible to discuss plays performed in any period without trying to consider what kind of scenery was used. It was therefore necessary to briefly describe how the appearance of theatre buildings changed and how these changes, such as the installation of raised stages, altered the method of presenting the plays. In my opinion, the stage scenery and the actors’ costumes were important aspects of Hellenistic tragedy. The costumes, especially the masks and shoes, differed considerably from those used in the Classical period. Illustrations constitute an extensive supplement to Chapter 4. Changes in the organization of theatre life (the professionalization of acting and the increased number of celebrations involving the theatre and stage) diversified the possibilities and forms of presenting tragedies and satirical dramas. Here I would like the reader to note that this book considers Hellenistic tragedies only in the context of their reception as something performed on stage. It is generally known that in the fourth century bc the texts of both Classical and contemporary tragedians were available for the individual to read. Nevertheless, drama is by definition associated with performance on stage and must include the possibility of being performed. It is plainly a prerequisite of this art form. In the case of Hellenistic tragedy, one cannot accept the a priori assumption that some of them were written exclusively to be read.6 There is simply no evidence for this in the texts. Naturally, one Norwood (1942), p. 37; and Lesky (1972), pp. 530f. Both mention the tragedies of Diogenes the Cynic and Timon of Phlius as written exclusively to be read. There is also a long-lasting debate about the audience of fourth-century tragedy in the light of Aristotle’s Rhethoric (1413b12). Aristotle calls Chaeremon and Licymnius (poet of dithyrambs) ἀναγνωστικοί, and states that

6

xvi Preface may assume the texts of tragedies were also simply read by individuals, but the poetic appreciation of such literature is an entirely different subject. Extant fragments of Hellenistic tragedies are evidence of the originality of the authors not only in adapting traditional themes, but also, consistent with the spirit of the age, in introducing previously quite unknown themes. Despite what might seem to have been Aristophanes’ opinion, tragedy did not die together with Euripides, and continued to be a lively and popular literary and theatrical genre for another few centuries. Changing tastes and the establishment of a literary canon in the Byzantine era are the reasons why this genre was forgotten. Nevertheless, devoting some time to the study of Hellenistic theatre is worthwhile if only because as Moschion, one of the tragedians of that age, said: ‘a word shall not be spoken vainly to those who listen considerately’ (F9).

tragedies suitable to be read became favoured in his times. The passage was misunderstood by older scholars and interpreted as proof for the existence of tragedies not meant to be staged: see Dieterich (1908); Mahaffy (1891), p. 174;, Haigh (1896), pp. 426–9; Norwood (1942), p. 32. The term anagnostikos concerns the authors whose poetry was more suitable to be read than intended exclusively for reading: see Crusius (1902), pp. 382ff.; Croiset and Croiset (1913), pp. 384f.; Else (1957) p. 58; Pfeiffer (1968), p. 29. The discussion flares up from time to time in the background of the debate on so-called ‘Lesedramen’ and the tragedies of Seneca. See especially Zwierlein (1966), pp. 127–55.

1

Tragedy in the Hellenistic Age – General Observations

Understanding the phenomenon of tragedy and satyr plays in the Hellenistic period requires an appreciation of the incredible popularity of theatre in this period. It appears to have been the time of this art form’s greatest flourishing, and this was thanks not only to the ubiquitous new comedy and mime. In the Classical period tragedy, comedy and satyr play were a typically Athenian form of entertainment, while in other parts of Greece other types of drama prevailed, such as Doric farce on the Peloponnesus or phlyakes in Sicily. In the Hellenistic period the situation was quite different. Attic dramatic genres dominated the theatre throughout the Greek world and together with other genres had an enormous influence on numerous types of mime. On the boards, or rather the theatre’s stone slabs, many plays were performed throughout the year, while the professionalization of stage artists gathered pace and made the production of plays more efficient. Tragedy, that Athenian genre par excellence, became in the Hellenistic period a characteristic aspect of a widely understood culture of ‘Greekness’. The new geopolitical situation, which began as a result of Alexander’s expedition and the decade of subsequent conflicts between his successors, led to the creation of a new Greek cultural community. This community, not limiting itself exclusively to ethnic Greeks, but including all inhabitants who identified with Greek culture, created over the following decade new forms of literature, and yet also gave new meaning to the old ones. The new royals and their new, ambitious elite invested in the widespread understanding of culture, including literature, which not only served the areas that were undergoing the process of Hellenization, but also had a clear political and propagandistic function. Greek drama in particular devoted itself to this aim. The genre’s scope, influence and clarity of presentation could not be rivalled by any other literary form.1 Alongside New Comedy, tragedy and satyr drama were required to play no small role. These genres, based chiefly on mythological material, in an obvious way popularized their principal content within Greek culture. Theatre, as the most accessible and egalitarian form of mass entertainment in the period, perfectly met the Of course, the games of all kinds (especially athletic competition) also belong to mass entertainment, but in the context of cultural events it is difficult to put this together with drama.

1

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Hellenistic Tragedy

needs of developing Hellenistic societies. Insofar as it is easy in the case of historical science to determine the agreed time boundaries of the period (for the Hellenistic era, it is usual to take the dates of the deaths of its eminent figures, that is Alexander the Great and Cleopatra VII), it is also difficult to mark them out in the literature. The scholar of literature preserved only in fragments is placed in an unfortunate situation, since one’s reasonable assumptions in the absence of sufficient information may be far from the actual facts. As a result, for the requirements of this book, tragedy and satyr dramas start with the performance of Agen during Alexander’s expedition. This play, in terms of both context and form and the circumstances of its performance, is significantly different from the popular classic fourth-century satyr play. The end of Hellenistic tragedy is marked by the stage works of Nicholaus of Damascus and the works of Asinius Pollio, which were written in Greek. Both apparently represent the Hellenization of the Eastern and Western elite. Their work has unfortunately not survived, but their dramatic output is certified in historical sources. It must also be underlined that the period in question lasted more than 300 years. But it is evident that in terms of literary history this period was not uniform. Similarly to other genres, we can clearly distinguish the first decades of the third century bc, of which eminent representatives were, for example, the members of the tragic Pleiad or Moschion. In light of the fragmentary nature of the extant texts we can only say with certainty that the surviving material from this period is distinguished by its perfection of form, both stylistic and metrical, and also by the originality of its vocabulary. During this period there are also certified works on the topic of contemporary life. The development of Hellenistic tragedy in the second and first centuries bc is significantly less defined. We can, however, observe its unprecedented popularity among Greek-speaking societies, and not only these. Unfortunately the exact changes which took place across the span of these three centuries are for us indefinable. Perhaps we ought also to speak not only of changes across the passage of time, but also of the ‘geographical’ differences, since local factors certainly had an influence on the origin, content and form of tragedy. Recently scholars have sought to prove the importance of theatrical performances, especially tragedy, in a political context by showing in which cities and under what circumstances honours and privileges were bestowed on outstanding citizens, especially in Athens.2 The inscriptional material is, however, insufficiently representative, and examination leads to various results and conclusions. A particular study of all tragic agones, during which the individual poleis proclaimed their honours, was recently undertaken by P. Ceccarelli, who shows the main differences arising from local traditions and their changes over the course of the decades.3 The proclamation of honours for citizens cannot constitute the only (though certainly it is the only measurable) criterion for the importance of tragedy in the political life of the public, or for its popularity in comparison with other forms of entertainment. Besides the

Wilson (2009); also Le Guen (1995), pp. 73f. Ceccarelli (2010), who concludes that tragedy and the polis as a socio-political institution gradually ‘went their own independent ways’.

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possibilities of study, there is also the impact of tragedy’s content and its important role in the growth of a town’s culture to consider. In a certain sense Hellenistic theatre was closer to contemporary mass culture than to modern theatre, for it was quite devoid of the elitist element that is so apparent in the drama performed today. But in this respect it also differed from Classical theatre, because, despite its commonness, it did define culture: Greek culture. The level of Hellenization in towns that remained in the Greek orbit after Alexander the Great’s conquests was testified to by the presence of theatre buildings. Hellenic civilization lasted as long as these theatres remained in use, and an example of this was the theatre building in Ai-Khanoum.4 The popularity of the theatre was also apparent in people’s everyday lives. Many terracotta figurines from Tanagra, Myrina and other towns and cities of the Mediterranean portray characters from dramas, chiefly the comedies and farces, but there are also terracotta tragic and satyr masks. Indeed, the theatre mask is one of the best-known decorative motifs of the age, ranging from architectural elements to decorations in private interiors and female jewellery.5 The best evidence of theatrical tastes towards the end of this age are the wall paintings from Pompeii, which express Greek art in southern Italy and its influence on Roman aesthetics. The number of frescoes and mosaics inspired by the theatre is vast, sometimes limited to the mask motif, at other times depicting scenes from the lives of artists and scenes from the actual plays. Hellenistic homes in the entire Greek oikoumene must have been adorned in a similar way, though these have not survived to our times. Normally, much more attention is paid to images associated with comedies, and yet images concerning tragedies and satyr plays are just as numerous and certainly not inferior in terms of quality. We try to match Pompeian artefacts with the comedies that we know (that is with the new comedy plays of Menander, as well as those of his Latin counterparts such as Plautus and Terence). No texts of Greek or Latin tragedies or satyr plays from this period have survived, so the characters in these paintings remain anonymous. But does that mean such plays were less popular on the stage? And on the basis of terracotta figurine statistics, is it at all possible to compare comedy with tragedy and satyr plays and thus assess public tastes? We do not know what made particular plays popular in Hellenistic times because we do not know what public tastes were like. We also do not know on what basis particular plays won competitions. This lack of knowledge prevents us from making an objective assessment of Hellenistic drama. Returning, however, to the phenomenon of mass reception, we should consider the possible size of audiences. By comparing theatres built in the Hellenistic period, one can see that audience capacities varied from 800 in Nikaia in Epirus to 24,000 in Ephesus.6 If we assume that an average audience was 5,000 people and multiply this sum by the number of existing theatres (of which over 170 were built in this period alone), and also assume that several troupes of actors could travel from city to city with the same play, we arrive at the incredible conclusion that a popular play could, in a short space of time, reach an audience of up to a million people! Such a scale was On the theatre and its meaning for the inhabitants, see Posch (1995), pp. 31ff. On the importance of the theatres in the East, see esp. Le Guen (2003). See Webster (1966), p. 127. 6 See list of theatres (Appendix). 4

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quite unthinkable in the Classical period, and can be matched today only thanks to mass media and frequent repetitions in one season. This is an important aspect of Hellenistic drama, one which was decisive in making it so different from Classical drama. The main criticism made of Hellenistic tragedy is that it does not resemble fifthcentury drama. However, if this genre had remained faithful to the Euripidean model, it would have ceased to evolve and over the centuries become fossilized, and then we could indeed speak of its demise. But the case of Hellenistic drama is quite different. It was a time of continual changes, starting with the subjects of tragedies, then the stage on which plays were performed and finally the costumes worn by actors, all of which testified that drama was very much alive. Trying to evaluate it in comparison with the Classical period is misleading from the methodological point of view and essentially futile. We do not make such comparisons between old and new comedy and we do not depreciate the comedy of manners in relation to the works of Aristophanes. Here scholars generally accept that these were simply two different types of comedy. Why should we treat tragedy differently? How can one compare a play performed in a Classical theatre with a large Athenian chorus during a festival devoted to Dionysus to a tragedy performed on the logeion of the theatre in Priene, with actors wearing cothurni and masks with onkos headdresses, assisted by a small chorus in the orchestra, and all occurring during a state festival? In the study of Hellenistic theatre it is essential to appreciate the sheer scale of the changes it went through. Virtually all the elements of Classical drama were transformed, as a result of which we are dealing with a completely different type of tragedy. Towards the end of the fourth century important changes were made in the selection of subjects for tragedies. While up until then the plots of plays were primarily based on mythological tales, be they fairly liberally modified by the playwrights, and more rarely on historical events associated with Athens, at the beginning of the Hellenistic period both tragedy and satyr drama turned to contemporary events. The authors now made the protagonists of their plays people whom they actually knew and who were still living, public figures. Such is the case of Python’s Agen, whose antihero is the infamous Harpalus, and such is the case of Lycophron’s Menedemus, whose main character is a philosopher the author personally knew. As can be surmised from the personal attack on the philosopher Cleanthes, this was also the situation in the play with the lost title by Sositheus. In Hellenistic tragedy we observe events that had occurred in very recent history, such as Lycophron’s Cassandreians and Moschion’s Men of Pherae. Of course, there were also more traditionally historical tragedies, e.g. two plays entitled Themistocles – by Moschion and Philiscus. With regard to mythological subjects, apart from the time-honoured tales about the Labdacids or Pelopids as well as the Trojan cycle, there were also less well-known myths about Aeolus (Lycophron) or Aethlius (Sositheus), as well as quite new, typically Hellenistic characters, such as deities personifying abstract concepts. Tragedies, moreover, reflect new, eclectic beliefs, such as the myth about Adonis. Among the mythological satyr plays from this period, an important place is held by Sositheus’ Daphnis or Lityerses, which adopted a theme from Phrygian folklore. This play is also evidence of literary discussions among the Alexandrian poets: Theocritus and Hermesianax and the



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playwright. An interesting example of Hellenistic literary games and displays of virtuosity in script-writing has been preserved in the papyrus fragment of a play entitled Atlas by an anonymous author. The entire text is written with the omission of the letter ‘s’. Serious changes were also made to the technique of staging plays. The issue of the presence of the chorus in Hellenistic tragedy has aroused the greatest emotions among scholars. The solution, however, may actually be fairly simple. Epigraphic sources indicate that troupes of artists performing at festivals did sometimes include tragic choruses, though not always. The extant texts of plays such as the papyrus fragment of the Cassandra or the Gyges verses indicate the presence of a chorus in the orchestra. Moreover, some play titles, such as the aforementioned Cassandreians and Men of Pherae, are actually in the plural on account of the chorus.7 Thus the chorus was an important element in Hellenistic tragedies. On the other hand, there were situations where for practical reasons (e.g. financial constraints and/or a limited number of performers) tragedies were performed in an abridged version without the choral sections. I am not entirely sure such a play could still be called a tragedy in the strict sense of the word, but it seems such nuances were not all that important to ancient audiences. Greater difficulty may be had with establishing how far choral songs were relevant to the plots of plays. We know that in the fourth century bc plays gradually reduced the role of choruses in relating their story, which eventually led to the emergence of quite independent embolima. However, the opinion that this was also the case in Hellenistic theatre is purely hypothetical, as there are no extant copies of entire Hellenistic plays, or even tragic choral sections for that matter. The popularity of recasting the earlier plays, especially the adaptations of Euripides and fourth-century dramas that were written with choral parts, do allow us to surmise that embolima were still common in Hellenistic times. Moreover, one should take into account the considerable freedom protagonists had in altering plays, and so dispensing with the chorus altogether was quite possible. Indeed, some extant texts are clearly specially edited versions of an original play, perhaps for some kind of solo performance. We therefore need to accept that there was considerable freedom in the staging of tragedies in Hellenistic times, which facilitated diversity and proliferation but also hindered the establishment of strict rules. This in turn prevented the creation of a consistent and cohesive genre that could be adopted in subsequent centuries and thus be preserved. Nevertheless, we may assume that the performance of a full tragedy had to comprise certain elements. These were: the prologue, choral songs and the epeisodia. In the Hellenistic sense of the word, epeisodia seems to have meant something like an act, of which there would have most probably been five. These acts were interspersed with songs sung by the chorus, which after singing its part did not walk off the stage, as was the case in comedies, but instead remained in the orchestra. One of the important issues concerning the performance of Hellenistic tragedies is the actual place in which they were staged. Here too there were revolutionary changes. Plays were now performed on a raised platform, i.e. the logeion. The stage now had Sifakis (1967), p. 122.

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two levels, with the actors chiefly performing on the top level. Both the skene and the proskenion were richly decorated. The possibility of changing the scenery allowed for the performance of one play after another. Thanks to the great popularity of the theatre in southern Italy, particularly in the first century bc, and the fashion of decorating home interiors with scenes from plays and copies of stage scenery, we are able to imagine what Hellenistic theatre looked like. This is a paradoxical situation, for we do not have a single complete copy of a play from that period, yet the Pompeian frescoes present such vivid images of the stage and performing actors that Hellenistic theatre seems more familiar to us than Classical theatre, whose plays we know. In other words, while we have the texts of fifth-century tragedies, we do not know how they were staged, and while we do not have any complete copy of a Hellenistic tragedy or satyr play, we have pictures of how these plays were performed. And thus we know that the performances were very colourful, as the stage costumes and scenery were both designed in vivid colours, which in itself involved serious expense for the organizers. A closer look at the stage scenery for these tragedies and satyr plays reveals how sensitive the decorators were to the beauty and harmony of architecture and landscape. A lot of care was given to produce the illusion of reality, which is especially evident in the use of perspective. Hellenistic plays must have been visually very attractive, and that is why theatre decorations were so popular in the interiors of private homes: hence also the large number of terracotta and gold copies of masks. Another important change in Hellenistic theatre concerned religious associations, which differ from those in Classical theatre. Dramatic performances were of course still associated with the god Dionysus, because stage artists identified themselves with his cult, an expression of which were the religious and professional technitai guilds.8 Moreover, Dionysus was in this period one of the most popular Greek gods, with whom many dynasties willingly identified themselves, as did individual rulers, even very strongly in the case of some, e.g. Ptolemy XII Auletes. At the same time theatre was also associated with other deities. This is above all testified by the construction of theatres in the sanctuaries of various gods. There was a theatre in the Apollo temple complex in Delphi, on Kos, Delos, Rhodes and in Caria (Letoon), in the temple complexes of Asclepius in Epidaurus and Messina, near the Zeus sanctuary in Dodona and Aigeira, as well as in one dedicated to the Muses in Troezen. And one could give many more examples. The building of theatres near sanctuaries may be explained by the large numbers of worshippers arriving to attend festivals in such places, and the performance of dramas was therefore an added attraction to these events. As can be easily surmised on the basis of the few examples in this book of festivals in which tragedy and satyr drama contests were held, these celebrations were not necessarily in honour only of Dionysus. This was case with the Delphic Soteria, Tanagrian Sarapieia, Argive Heraia or the Amphiaraia in Oropos. Festivals in honour of rulers could also serve as a pretext for the organizing of tragic agones, for example the Demetrieia and

The religious character of these stage artists’ associations is best described by J. L. Lightfoot (2002), who draws attention to the professional terminology concerning technitai activities. This terminology reveals both the religious as well as the social and political aspects of their organizations.

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Ptolemaia. This is not only evidence of the huge popularity of drama, but also above all shows that drama actually served to raise the status of all these different festivals. In discussing drama one should never forget that its integral part is the receiver, i.e. the audience. The work of a tragic poet was to a large extent dependent on the public’s appraisal as well as that of the dramatic competition judges. The importance attached by playwrights to these opinions is expressed in the comedies of Plautus and Terence, in which the authors turn to the audience with a request to give their play a good reception. Thus sacrificing all stage illusions, the authors of New Comedy appealed directly to the public. Tragedians, however, could not afford to make such overt appeals. Tragedy could not have anything in common with mundane reality, it could not suddenly ‘notice’ the audience and ‘blow’ the author’s ‘cover’. But this certainly did not mean that tragedies were to any lesser an extent written with the audience in mind, and therefore also by the audience. It is obvious that audiences in the Hellenistic period were very different from those of the Classical period. It is sufficient to know that in the fifth century the audience in the Theatre of Dionysus primarily comprised Athenians. During the Great Dionysia visitors also came from beyond Attica, but they were still predominantly Greeks. In the Hellenistic period, on the other hand, when theatres were being built as far apart as from the Black Sea to the Red Sea, from Epirus to Bactria, native Greeks gradually became a minority among the audiences of tragedies. Of course this did not apply to the old Greek cities and poleis colonized by Alexander’s veterans (though in the latter case, on account of mixed marriages, it was also increasingly difficult to speak of Hellenes). Increasingly Hellenized social groups in the states of the Seleucids, Attalids and Lagids gradually became predominant among theatre audiences, and, despite their Greek education, these people represented many civilizations. As we know, theatre was par excellence a Hellenic form of entertainment, but at the same time it was an important factor in combining diverse cultures, and thus it became one of the most important agents of Hellenization. The ubiquity of theatre and the fact that it communicated by means of images and music made it comprehensible even to people who had not yet properly learnt the Greek language. We should add here that tragedies and satyr dramas were written in common Hellenistic Greek, including elements of Classical tragedy vocabulary and phraseology and other poetic forms, but devoid of any dialects. Hence, drama was understood, more popular and thus more influential in society. Suffice to say that non-Greeks also took up writing plays. Tragedies in Greek were written by King Artavasdes II of Armenia as well as Ezekiel, a member of the Jewish Diaspora, a community that essentially rejected foreign cultural influences. Perhaps the greatest reason as to why theatre audiences were so multicultural is because, apart from musical and gymnastic contests, this was the most popular form of entertainment in antiquity and the best opportunity for local inhabitants to meet. It was also an integral part of celebrations at festivals. Of course, we do not know the percentage of non-Greeks in various audiences in various centuries, and there is no way this problem can be properly examined. However, as I have indicated earlier, the important fact here is that most of the themes of tragedies and satyr plays remained traditional and Greek. This undoubtedly had an influence on the promulgation of Greek mythology and history. However, we cannot say whether or not non-Hellenic

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populations had a meaningful influence on the plots of plays. The mere fact that tragedies were written which contained reference to new cults, e.g. for Adonis, is evidence of social interest in new religions. Even more significant is the example of Ezekiel’s Exagoge and other Biblical dramas, modelled on Greek plays but referring to the Jewish tradition. This is a quite exceptional phenomenon of the age. Whoever was to be the recipient of this play, whether it was a reader or theatre spectator, must have been familiar with both Jewish and Greek culture. Moreover, such a person must have been sympathetic to both Jewish and Greek cultures, because otherwise the author could not expect a positive reception. Greeks were not generally interested in histories that did not in some way include their civilizational contribution, while Jews could treat this type of play as blasphemous with regard to the Scripture. Therefore it must have been written for a tolerant Jewish community which loved Greek theatre and lived in Alexandria, a city that assimilated many cultures. The writing of such a play may also be evidence of the existence of a group of people who were willing to go so far in merging together the civilizational achievements of two societies. M. A. Vinagre is right to note that, while fourth-century tragedy was Pan-Hellenic and centred in Athens, in the Hellenistic period tragedy had become universal, with its centre moved to multicultural Alexandria.9 The big challenge Hellenistic tragedy poses to scholars today concerns the way in which this epoch changed people’s understanding of drama. One has to bear in mind that plays from this period influenced the emergence of Roman tragedy. Ever since the Romans first began to receive Greek dramatic culture (thanks to the large number of theatres in southern Italy) to the sacking of Corinth and the taking of useful acoustic devices from the city’s looted theatre,10 the plays that entertained these conquerors were Hellenistic. Even if the first Roman tragedians referred to the literary works of Euripides and Sophocles, they had no idea of how these fifth-century plays were staged. However, they were quite familiar with how contemporary Greek plays were staged and it is these plays that they imitated. One may also assume that they copied subjects and themes. The study of Hellenistic tragedy should therefore be the starting point for any scholar wishing to write about early Roman drama. Of course, this problem might seem quite unsolvable on account of the fragmentary remains of both forms of tragedy, but even similar play titles give a reason for hope. After all, the first Roman man of letters and the father of Latin drama, Lucius Livius Andronicus, was a Greek by birth, and as far as we know, his plays were modelled on Greek dramas (it is enough to look at his preserved titles: Achilles, Aegisthus, Aiax Mastigophorus, Andromeda, Antiopa, Danae, Equus Troianus, Hermiona and Tereus). Even the new genre of tragedy invented by Gnaeus Naevius, called Praetexta Fabula, seems to have been based on the Greek models of contemporary historical or political plays. We should remember that in the region of Naples not only professional Greek artists created Greek tragedies, but so also did Romans, such as Asinius Pollio, who wrote plays in both languages. A Roman by the name of Publius is also recorded to have been the second place winner of an agon in Tanagra. Such co-existence, mutual Vinagre (2001), p. 94. Vitr. 5.5.

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exchanges of thoughts and experiences regarding the theatre, both on the ‘high culture’ level of Pollio’s literary circle as among actual performers, like the above-mentioned Publius, could not but have had an influence of the shape of Roman tragedy. Ancient theatre in southern Italy, additionally rich in archaeological comparative materials, allows us to evaluate and match stage costumes and scenery. However, such issues go beyond the scope of this book. Another matter that holds promise for greater insight into Hellenistic tragedy is a meticulous examination of extant papyrus fragments and manuscript traditions whose original authors remain unknown. On account of the time-honoured preference for Classical drama, so far these sources have been cautiously attributed to the fifth or fourth centuries bc, but many might actually originate from the Hellenistic period. The so-called adespota fragments still require a great deal of scholarly attention, and work on this subject could open whole new fields of study for philologists.

Preservation and transmission of texts The first important issue to be examined before we can proceed to discuss other matters concerning Hellenistic tragedy and satyr plays is the actual state of the extant plays. On account of the fact that such a minimal number of play fragments have survived to this day, it is important to know why those relatively few extant pieces of text were preserved. This is especially significant when it comes to interpreting the texts and discussing the Hellenistic choice of themes. There are two ways in which fragments of ancient plays can survive: either through literary tradition or on account of a papyrus find. Both forms have their specific characteristics which affect our knowledge regarding the subject of the given fragment. In the case of Hellenistic tragedies, medieval manuscripts have not recorded a single play in its entirety, nor even a larger fragment. All we have are individual quotations, fragments dispersed in the works of later authors or simply information regarding the existence of such a play. Testimonia or citations in ancient works usually state the name of the original author or the title of the cited play, but they rarely comprise more than a few and, exceptionally, no more than just over a dozen lines. Papyrus fragments can contain much more text, even several dozen lines, but on account of inevitable damage to the external parts of the papyrus scroll, the authors and play titles usually remain unknown. Obviously the citing of a fragment in other works is decided by the specific context. With regard to Hellenistic tragedy, the fragments at our disposal originate chiefly from two works: Athenaeus’ Deipnosophists and Stobaeus’ Anthology. In the both cases the cited fragments are entirely dependent on the given context. As we know, the story of the Deipnosophists is set in the house of a wealthy Roman, where 29 intellectuals engage in a discussion during a banquet. The fragments cited by Athenaeus are naturally selected on account of the subjects discussed by the intellectuals in the book. This learned lexicon, in the form of a dialogue, deals with various subjects associated with the banquet, and thus in a way ‘scans’ ancient literature from this particular

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angle. That is why there is a predominance of comedy and satyr play quotations over those from tragedies. Nevertheless, the fragments preserved in this book are exceptionally valuable. If not for the conversation about the two famous hetaerae Glycera and Pythionice, we would not have a fragment of Python’s Agen, and the discussion regarding the organizing of feasts has preserved for us verses from Lycophron’s Menedemus. A few verses from the latter play are also cited by Diogenes Laertius in his biography of the philosopher Menedemus. Stobaeus’ Anthology is of a completely different nature. Living at the start of the fifth century ad, the author prepared for his son a vast collection of extracts from the writings of ancient authors to exemplify various philosophical, ethical, political and economic issues. That is why the fragments preserved in this book express universal types of wisdom, sometimes even in the form of maxims. Thanks to Stobaeus we have, for instance, a few examples of the playwright Moschion’s thoughts on man’s changing fortunes, justice and death, but the cited verses tell us nothing about his actual play. Stobaeus himself most probably did not actually know the Hellenistic dramas he was citing, for he appears to have made use of earlier anthologies and extracts. In one case we can be certain he used the same source as Clement of Alexandria.11 Such an indirect tradition poses additional problems in the interpretation of the cited fragments. It is hardly possible to establish a play’s theme, let alone its plot, on the basis of four verses regarding a universal truth. For instance, the sentences (F 11 of Moschion) ‘For it is a true adage among people / Little effort – to criticize your neighbour. / Oneself to bear a hurtful remark / Is the greatest of all burdens on mankind’ could be said by virtually any character in any type of play. It is the way in which the fragments have been passed on to us that has to a large extent impaired our ability to define which particular issues were prevalent in Hellenistic tragedies and satyr plays. While extant titles attributed to particular authors allow us to establish the general themes, the essential drama and actual plots remain elusive. Before undertaking a study of Hellenistic drama using the evidence we have, we must also make an assumption. The extant fragments may be, and in all likelihood are, a quite accidental collection of evidence that might not necessarily be representative of the entire Hellenistic period. Therefore if we classify them according to philosophical issues, e.g. the already mentioned changing of human fortune, and one category turns out to include the largest group of extant fragments, this does not allow us to conclude that this philosophical issue was the predominant theme in Hellenistic tragedy. Instead we should accept that the selective processes by which these fragments have survived to this day does not allow us to draw any general conclusions. The study of papyrus fragments poses quite different problems. The first of these is dating the original play, which usually does not correspond to the physical age of the papyrus. In other words the material on which the fragment is preserved may be dated to the second or third century ad, but is a copy of a text that was composed much earlier. Scholars meticulously analyse the language and themes of the texts in order to determine the original date, but there can never be absolute certainty. Fragment 1 of Apollonides (TrGF 152) is identically cited by both authors.

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Another problem is the physical damage incurred by extant texts. This necessitates reconstruction, which can only be performed by a modern scholar and is therefore in no sense concrete evidence of the content of the original text. Another problem is the random way in which papyrus texts are found. However, this randomness is quite different to that of the literary tradition, where a fragment survives on account of its subject. A papyrus text’s continued existence depends on where it was deposited, and the sheer chance of one fragment surviving while others are damaged or destroyed. Thus, for physical reasons, none of the beginnings or endings of plays have survived. Texts believed to be fragments of Hellenistic plays are very short, never more than a couple of dozen lines. This again naturally prevents us from formulating any general conclusions regarding Hellenistic tragedies and satyr plays. The four papyrus fragments presented in this book were written down for different purposes and on material derived from different periods. The oldest appears to be P. Oxy XXXVI 2746 from the first century ad, with the fragment that is in this book entitled Cassandra. The remaining papyri are at least 100 years later. With the exception of the fragment of Atlas, which was written down not only with care, but also on good-quality, lightcoloured papyrus, the rest of the fragments were written on less expensive materials. Atlas is an unusual literary work, written down without the use of the letter ‘s’, so the copy that we have might have been reserved for some private library or collection. The artists’ ‘working copies’ might have been papyri containing Cassandra (the text has didaskalia), or P.Oslo 1413 (which we refer to as Neoptolemus), which contains musical annotations. In relation to the popularity of Hellenistic tragedy we can testify only to the fact that these texts were written down by someone (and possibly used on stage) a few decades or even a few centuries after their origin. However, it is evident, considering the number of papyri containing fragments of New Comedy, that the identification of only a few fragments from an equally popular tragedy of this period is significant and in itself testifies to our scant acquaintance with this genre. Nevertheless, in contrast to the literary tradition, which has already been thoroughly studied, with papyrus texts there is still the hope of making a new discovery –the possibility, as in the case of Menander’s comedy, of eventually finding a larger number of texts from one Hellenistic tragedy, or even an entire play. Information regarding the authors of Hellenistic tragedies and satyr plays is also very scarce, especially if, unlike Alexander Aetolus or Lycophron, they were not also active in other fields of literature and arts. An example of a Hellenistic author about whom we know nothing is Moschion. This does not mean that an author like Moschion was not well known to his contemporaries. A silver cup bearing an inscription of his name as well as a Roman replica of his statue are evidence of him being a well-known and admired artist. Therefore our knowledge of Hellenistic playwrights is haphazard and does not reflect the actual popularity of their plays in their day. Apart from the works of Athenaeus and Stobaeus, the most helpful is of course the Suda. This tenth-century Byzantine encyclopaedia-dictionary contains the biographies of many Hellenistic dramatists. The book contains numerous mistakes, usually caused by attributing play titles to the wrong authors or mixing up the biographies of authors bearing the same name. Nevertheless, if the name of an author or the title of a play are recorded in such a book, this is evidence that the author and his plays were appreciated and even read in

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a later period. No less useful is the information found in the works of John Tzetzes, a Byzantine grammarian writing in the twelfth century, whose information also powerfully testifies to the fact that the fame of Hellenistic dramatists lasted until the late Byzantine period. The situation is quite different in the case of tragedians whose names only appear on inscriptions. They were the winners of dramatic agones in various places, and therefore they must have won the favour of judges or even the general public, but more often than not the author’s name and his play title are all that have survived. This begs the question why they should be mentioned in this study at all. First of all, titles are a valuable source of information regarding which subjects Hellenistic drama was interested in. There is also always a chance of attributing a particular papyrus fragment to an author whose name only appears in such an inscription. Moreover, we should note that only the names of winners in some towns are known, and this should give us an indication of how many playwrights there were in the Hellenistic period. In this book I have included all the tragedy and satyr play authors mentioned in lists of agon winners, and the fact that 50 are so far known demonstrates the scale of engagement in the writing of tragedies in the Hellenistic period. First of all we need to realize that not every playwright won, and only the names of those who did were inscribed in stone. Second, apart from Athens and some of the smaller towns, stone inscriptions of dramatic agon winners have not been found in all the cultural centres of the time, and this includes Alexandria, then the greatest metropolis of all. It is hard to imagine how many dramas were written during the whole Hellenistic period, but we should realize that we possess only a very scanty percentage of the whole.

Hellenistic criticism on tragedy It seems that the interest of contemporary scholars in the theoretical aspect of tragedy and the satyr drama played a very important role in the development of both genres. As we known, philology flourished in the Hellenistic period. All the major oikoumene centres had their schools of philosophy and rhetoric, where citizens were taught subjects concerning language and literature. Large teams of scholars were employed in the libraries of Alexandria, and from the second century bc also in Pergamum, to produce critical appraisals of texts and formulate the theory of literature. These studies had a profound influence on the development of writing, as is demonstrated, for instance, by the vast number of academic treatises, catalogues, encyclopaedic works, compendia and monographs, as well as the appearance of technical language in poetry and prose. So too drama became a subject of study for contemporary scholars, who created a theoretical basis and literary criticism, which in turn contributed to the further development of these genres.12 The treatises on tragedies and satyr plays For general information about Hellenistic literary criticism, see: Atkins (1934); Grube (1965), pp. 103–49; Kennedy and Innes (1989); Russel (1981); with the account of rhetoric, Russel (2006), Asmis (1998, 2006); Fraser (1972 I), pp. 480–94; Too (1998), pp. 115ff. Schenkeveld and Barnes (1999). On literary theory in the fourth century and the idea of literature, see Ford (2002), pp. 229–96 with further bibliography; and on the theatre, see Carlson (1993), pp.15–30.

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have not survived to this day. We know of their existence only thanks to what has been mentioned by later authors and scholiasts. As usual, an invaluable source here is Athenaeus’ Deipnosophists, where occasionally entire passages of treatises are cited, more often than not including the author’s name. Plutarch is another valuable source, who when dealing with related subjects, such as in his Moralia, sometimes quotes Alexandrian philologists. Naturally, the more renowned scholars are mentioned in the Suda, where we learn the titles of their lost works. Scholia on the tragedies of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides also occasionally cite works from the Hellenistic period concerning the three great tragedians. Closer examination of extant testimonia and fragments from theoretical works concerning drama in the period after Alexander the Great’s conquests reveals several major courses of study. One without doubt was the study of music and dance in drama. The second concerned the language, expressions and words. A third course dealt with the stories and myths found in plays. To this type of literature, centred around the theory of drama, we should add the biographies of tragedians from the Classical period, works concerning Dionysian festivals and drama agones. Of the known scholars dealing with the theory of drama one can mention Asclepiades of Tragilos, the author of Tragodoumena.13 This work comprised at least six books, and concerned myths that were used and modified by tragedians. Philochorus of Athens,14 a friend and correspondent of Asclepiades, was another drama theoretician, as well as a historian and attidographer, who died sometime after 262 bc. He wrote On Tragedies, where he included information regarding myths used by Sophocles and Euripides. Among the most distinguished scholars in general who also wrote works concerning the theatre was Duris of Samos,15 who died in 175 bc. He was the epimeletes of Samos as well as a representative of the Peripatetic school of historiography, and wrote histories (Hellenica and Macedonica) as well as theoretical works (e.g. On Painters). His works concerning drama included: On Tragedy, On Euripides and Sophocles and On Agones. Virtually nothing is known about the work entitled Tragodoumena, which was written by Demaratus (though the author’s name may have actually been Damagetus).16 This work may have been similar to that written by Asclepiades of Tragilos, but we only make such an assumption on account of the identical title. Lysanias of Cyrene, the teacher of Eratosthenes,17 was the author of a work on Euripides. We also know that he wrote a treatise On Iambographers, and it is highly probable that this work would have concerned tragedians. It is also probable that from this period there was also an author by the name of Dionysius, who wrote a now lost work on Euripides.18 Since we know that this treatise was one of the main sources for Tzetzes’ On Comedy, I believe that it dealt with not only comedy, but also with tragedy and satyr drama. The musical aspects of stage works were dealt with by Aristocles, who lived during the reign of Ptolemy Physcon (145–116 bc).19 Among 15 16 17 18 19 13 14

Wentzel (1896a), p. 1628; Susemihl (1892), p. 20; Lesky (1963), p. 752; Bagordo (1998), p. 33. Laqueur (1939), p. 2435; Bagordo (1998), p. 33. Schwartz (1905), pp. 1853–6; Bagordo (1998), pp. 33–4. Schwartz (1901), p. 2706; Bagordo (1998), p. 35. Gudeman (1927), pp. 2508–11; Bartol (1992), p. 269; Bagordo (1998), p. 36. Cohn (1905a), pp. 985–86; Bagordo (1998), p. 62. Bagordo (1998), p. 58.

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other treatises, he wrote Peri Choron, which was cited by Athenaeus as Peri Mousikes, though it is possible that these were two different works. Thanks to its frequent quotations in the Deipnosophists, we know that this work concerned music and dance, presented the profiles of all sorts of poets and discussed genres in music and literature. Among the more well-known and universal philologists interested in the theory of drama, we find Draco of Stratonikeia.20 He is chiefly famous as the author of monographs on Pindar, Sappho and Alcaeus. He also wrote a work On Satyrs, which without doubt must have concerned the satyr play. Dionysodorus of Alexandria, a student of Aristarchus,21 wrote a treatise On the Errors of Tragedians, in which he pointed to all sorts of geographical and topographical mistakes that appeared in such plays. Artemon of Cassandreia22 was the author of an unknown work intriguingly entitled περὶ Διονυσιακοῦ Συστήματος. It may have been a treatise on festivities in honour of a deity that to a large extent involved stage performances. Such a type of book entitled ἀστικοῦ ἀγῶνος was written by Charicles of Carystus and undoubtedly concerned the Dionysia in Athens.23 Towards the end of the second century bc Carystius of Pergamum wrote a treatise entitled περὶ διδασκαλιῶν, which likewise included much information that was later used by scholiasts.24 Naturally there were also works that concentrated on only the vocabulary used in tragedies. However, the only information that has survived to our day concerns a type of dictionary entitled λέξις τραγική, which was compiled by Didymus of Alexandria.25 The Suda states that he was a contemporary of Cicero, Antony and Augustus. In its day a lexicon of words appearing in tragedies would have already been a very useful study aid on account of the rapid development of the Greek language. Interest in tragedies, or rather more generally in drama, can be observed in the work of scholars employed in the Alexandrian Library. None other than Callimachus himself was the author of Πίναξ καὶ ἀναγραφὴ τῶν κατὰ χρόνους καὶ ἀπ’ἀρχῆς γενομένων διδασκάλων (Pinax and Register of the Dramatic Poets in Order from the Beginning). This work is now lost, but we know it included information regarding various aspects of tragic and comic literature and was based on Aristotle’s Didascaliae26. The work is mentioned in scholia to Aristophanes.27 Likewise Callimachus’ student Istrus of Cyrene, among his many other treatises, wrote a biography of Euripides with a special focus on his tragedies.28 It is significant that in the Hellenistic period the formal aspects of drama were examined Cohn (1905b), pp. 1662–3; Susemihl (1892), p. 193; Bagordo, (1998), p. 49. Cohn (1905c), p. 1005; Susemihl (1892), p. 161; Bagordo (1998), p. 49. Susemihl (1891), p. 511; Bagordo (1998), p. 49. 23 Susemihl (1892), p. 399; Bagordo (1998), pp. 62–3. 24 Jacoby (1919), pp. 2254–5; Bagordo (1998), p. 59. 25 Cohn (1905d), pp. 445–72; Bagordo (1998), p. 59. 26 Pfeiffer (1968), pp. 81, 132. 27 Pfeiffer (1949), pp. 349–50. 28 Bagordo (1998), p. 40. We can only guess that some parts of Eratosthenes’ nine books on comedy were also devoted to tragedy, at least by contrast or comparison. Of particular interest are his opinions on the aims of poetry, which is attested by Strabo 1.2.3: (in short) ‘1. The aim of poetry is to give pleasure and not to instruct. 2. Poet is not supposed to be an expert in strategy, agriculture or rhetoric. 3. Critics should not waste their time establishing the truth of a poet’s facts.’ This stays in clear opposition to the precepts of Neoptolemus of Parion (which we know via Horace’s Ars Poetica, pp. 86–8, see below). No doubt we are dealing here with the early Hellenistic discussion on the aims and techniques of poetry, including tragedy. 20 21 22



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not only by theoreticians, but also by people practically engaged in this art form. At least three members of the Pleiad wrote about stage plays. Above all Alexander Aetolus created a catalogue of tragedies and satyr dramas for the Alexandrian Library, and Lycophron did the same for comedies. One should add that these were not mere ‘inventories’ but primarily works of literary criticism that put into order contemporary knowledge regarding tragedies. Another presumed Pleiad member, Dionysiades of Mallos, wrote a treatise entitled Characteres or Philokomodoi (Χαρακτῆρες ἢ Φιλοκώμῳδοι), which most probably concerned comedy writers, though the word Φιλοκώμῳδος is a hapax legomenon and as such poses certain interpretational difficulties. Theoretical knowledge of stage performances would have certainly affected the way in which Hellenistic authors wrote their tragedies. It should be noted that contemporary studies devoted a great deal of attention to the techniques of the three great tragedians. In a sense, and to a certain degree officially, they became ‘classics’ several years before the start of the Hellenistic period, when around the year 330 bc Lycurgus ordered the texts of their tragedies, at the time circulated around Athens, to be recorded on papyrus scrolls and forbade protagonists to make any further amendments to them. At the time these papyrus scrolls were a sort of canon edition. Soon afterwards, Ptolemy III borrowed them and they ended up in the Alexandrian Library, while only duplicate copies were sent back to Athens.29 The desire to possess these valuable manuscripts bears testimony to the great esteem in which Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides were then held. The works of the Great Three became the ultimate examples on which Hellenistic authors modelled their own plays. While scholars are generally of the opinion that, starting in the fourth century bc, Hellenistic tragedy suffered a gradual decline, there is no hard evidence to support this view. We do not know whether or not third- and second-century authors continued the rhetorical trend in this genre, or whether indeed they modelled their works on fourthcentury plays at all. On the other hand, we do know that Euripides continued to arouse delight and that Classical plays were the subject of many scholarly treatises. The only extant critical work on tragedy preserved in its entirety is, of course, the Poetics of Aristotle. It provides a good ground for drawing conclusions about the possible interests of his contemporary and later critics. The version that we have at our disposal is based primarily on a tenth-century manuscript called Parisinus Graecus (1741) and an older Syro-Arabic translation of a lost version as well as another Greek manuscript – Codex Riccardianus and the Latin translation.30 The date of the composition of the Poetics is not certain, as we do not know if it is an early work of the philosopher or if it was written much later. In fact it is not even clear if the text we possess is not in fact a compilation of the students’ notes circulating among the pupils of the Peripatetic school. Some parts of it may be even an addition of later (Hellenistic?) commentators.31 Chapters 4 and 532 give the history of poetic genres, Gal. Hipp. Epid. (XVII a), p. 606. For the manuscript tradition of the Poetics, see the Introduction to Tarán and Gutas (2012). 31 On the character of so-called esoteric works of Aristotle, see Barnes (1995), pp. 12ff. with further bibliography (1995). 32 Although the division into chapters is modern for practical reasons, it is present in all editions of the Poetics and it would be hard to find a better way to refer to it. 29 30

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especially of tragedy. Chapter 6 of the Poetics briefly presents the six elements of tragedy: plot, character, thought, diction, performance and song. These elements are subsequently discussed in the next 16 chapters. The author places particular emphasis on formulating a proper definition of tragedy, which would distinguish it from the other genres and present all the subtleties of its character (1449b 21): ἔστιν οὖν τραγῳδία μίμησις πράξεως σπουδαίας καὶ τελείας μέγεθος ἐχούσης, ἡδυσμένῳ λόγῳ χωρὶς ἑκάστῳ τῶν εἰδῶν ἐν τοῖς μορίοις, δρώντων καὶ οὐ δι’ ἀπαγγελίας, δι’ ἐλέου καὶ φόβου περαίνουσα τὴν τῶν τοιούτων παθημάτων κάθαρσιν.33 This definition, as well as the whole passage on tragedy, is of course limited by Aristotle’s attitude to criticism and the circumstances of his lifetime.34 I cannot here go into the obvious fact that Aristotle drew his examples from both classical tragedy and the contemporary works of Theodectes, Astydamas, Carcinus, Polyidus or Dicaeogenes. He presents his ideal tragedy through good examples which he had either read or seen on stage, but at the same time he clearly shows the elements of which he disapproved (e.g. the function of chorus, 18, 1456a25). Yet he is drawing the picture of an ideal genre, which as we could expect should have become a point of reference for later critics. Drawing a picture of an ideal play by giving positive and negative examples also seems to be the means by which Horace in the Ars Poetica was presenting the genre. Here the question arises: what was the influence of the Poetics on the development of tragedy in Hellenistic times and whether, or rather to what extent, was it known, at least among Alexandrian scholars?35 The only testimony which proves that the corpus Aristotelicum could had been found in the Great Library is Athenaeus Deipnosophists (1.3A-B), where we read that Neleus, who inherited ‘the library of Theophrastus and of Aristotle’ sold it to Ptolemy Philadelphus.36 This of course shows that Alexandrian intellectuals had access to the majority of peripatetic works, as well as those concerning literary theory. Principally however we cannot state with complete certainty that the Poetics was one of the works they studied. The diligent and most eminent student and successor of Aristotle, Theophrastus, also authored a book on poetics, in which he included his definitions of the poetic genres, including tragedy. Only a very distant echo and one small fragment of it were preserved in Diomedes’ Ars Poetica, namely the brief definition of tragedy: Else (1957) translated it as follows: ‘Tragedy then is an imitation of an action which is serious, complete, and has bulk, in speech that has been made attractive, using each of its species separately in the parts of the play; which persons performing the action rather than through narrative, carrying to completion, through a course of events involving pity and fear, the purification of those painful or fatal acts which have that quality’ (p. 221). 34 In the midst of a plethora of commentaries on the Poetics, the most valuable are Else (1957) and the latest Editio Maior by L. Tarán and D. Gutas, as well as the studies of Halliwell (1986), Rorty (1992) and Andersen and Haarberg (2001); on the tragedy in the Poetics, see especially Jones (1962) and Belfiore (1992). 35 On the reception of Aristotle in the circle of Callimachus, see Brink (1946). 36 On the other hand Strabo (13.1.54) writes that the descendants of Neleus were still in possession of the books many years after his death, storing them in horrible conditions, and then finally selling them several decades later to Appelicon of Theos, whose library was taken to Rome by Sulla. Athenaeus (5. 214 D-215A) confirms that Appelicon bought a collection of Aristotle’s works but does not mention that it was the former library of Neleus. Strabo’s version in fact defies common sense as there is enough evidence to prove that many works of Aristotle were well known since the beginning of the Hellenistic period. 33



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|tragoedia est heroicae fortunae in adversis conprehensio. a Theophrasto |ita definita est, τραγῳδία ἐστὶν ἡρωϊκῆς τύχης περίστασις.37 It seems that Theophrastus modified the definition of his master as the main accent is put on the heroic fortune, but also the term περίστασις instead of peripatheia is not accidental.38 It is a real misfortune that the above fragment is so small, but it is worth noticing here that the most famous distinction between comedy and tragedy, which is presented in Chapter 2 of the Poetics, is based on the representation of men: comic heroes are worse and tragic ones are better than in real life (1448a). The term spoudaios was in the past misunderstood and translated consequently as ‘noble’, which gave the assumption that tragedy has to deal with kings and people of royal origins. However, it was proved that the Aristotelian meaning of the word should be placed in the moral, not social, context39. It seems that Theophrastus’ definition was formulated with the obvious reference to the Aristotelian one and even this short passage shows that Theophrastus was not only echoing his uncle’s theories, but was also trying to improve and modify the stipulations. The only trace of purely Hellenistic poetics concerning drama is Horace’s Ars Poetica. According to the ancient commenter Porphyrion, in this work Horace made use of the literary theory of Neoptolemus of Parion. In its original form this scholium reads as follows: ‘… in quem librum [sc. Artem Poeticam] congessit praecepta Neoptolemi τοῦ Παριανοῦ de arte poetica, non quidem omnia, sed eminentissima.’40 From this text it transpires that an important part of Horace’s poem is based on Neoptolemus’ writings41. Thus we cannot rule out that the Ars Poetica fragment concerning tragedy contains echoes of Hellenistic arguments with regard to this genre and this is a good enough reason to take a closer look at the standards advocated by the Roman poet. Unfortunately, we know very little about Neoptolemus himself. It is difficult to ascertain with which particular centre of learning in the ancient world he was associated. On account of the fact that his place of birth was Parion in Troas, some scholars, such as E. Norden, believe it to be Pergamum.42 Nonetheless, in Hellenistic times, when long journeys for scientific purposes were the order of the day, this is not a very reliable indicator. Instead, C. O. Brink is of the opinion that the nature of his work suggests he was active in Alexandria.43 Establishing when Neoptolemus lived is also very difficult. The fact that he was cited by Aristophanes of Byzantium means that the terminus ante quem must have been the end of the third century bc. Another indicator as to when this author lived is a testimony by another Hellenistic theoretician, Philodemus. In his treatise περὶ ποιημάτων the name of Neoptolemus appears Gramatici Latini, Kock (1, 487).The shortness is probably due to the fact that the whole work of Diomedes has a compilatory character and the fragment was abbreviated either by him or his source. The rest of the text is mostly taken from Varro and Horace. 38 See Fortenbaugh (1988), p. 313. On the direct and indirect relation between the literary criticism of Theophrastus and Aristotle, see McMahon (1917), esp. pp. 43ff. 39 Grube (1965), p. 74f.; on the word in Theophrastus, see Margoliouth (1911), p. 44. 40 Porph. Hor. (c. vol. II), p. 649, Hauthall. See also Jensen (1918). 41 On the topic of Horace’s own contribution and the influence of Callimachus on literary theory, see D’Anna (2003). 42 Norden (1909), p. 189; Schmid and Stählin (1920), p. 170. For the edition of the works of Neoptolemus, see Mette (1980). 43 Brink (1963), p. 44. 37

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or may be reconstructed several times. According to C. Jensen44, the chronological order in which Philodemus mentions other authors suggests that Neoptolemus was active in the first half of the third century bc. We know the titles of only several of Neoptolemus’ works: two poetic pieces and four treatises on the theory of literature and criticism. We do not know from which work Horace derived the information for his poem. A comparison of the general ideas of Aristotle’s Poetics and Rhetoric with those in the Ars Poetica suggests that Neoptolemus’ work dealt with poetry and the poet, and that the author belonged to the Peripatetic school of philosophy. The only way in which we may at least hypothetically reconstruct Neoptolemus’ arguments concerning tragedy is to analyse the relevant fragment of the Ars Poetica. In lines 185–93, Horace sets out five guidelines for stage performances, including tragedies. Lines 185–88 include aesthetic postulates for stage scenes not to be too drastic or off-putting. As examples to illustrate this argument, Horace mentions Medea murdering her children, Atreus cooking Thyestes’ sons and people transforming into animals, i.e. Cadmus turning into a snake and Procne into a bird. We do not know whether or not there ever existed Hellenistic tragedies displaying such scenes, for there are not even any extant play fragments with themes remotely related to the above examples. Indeed, none mention such gruesome stories, and one has to concede that if not for this fragment of Horace’s poem, nobody would be able to suspect that Hellenistic tragedies included such scenes. Whether Horace was genuinely postulating against scenes that really appeared on the Hellenistic stage or whether this guideline blew the problem out of proportion is a matter of pure conjecture and very uncertain assumptions. With so little evidence, there is little hope that it will ever be properly explained. The next precept of the poet concerns the division of plays into five acts. Horace writes: ‘neve minor neu sit quinto productior actu’. However, first one has to ascertain what the poet understood by the word actus.45 For this term could mean the acting of the players, action in the play, the part played by the actor, as well as each time an actor appeared on the stage – it is from this last meaning that our understanding of the word ‘act’ is derived. The Latin actus is not an equivalent of the Greek word μέρος (i.e. part) used by Aristotle, who distinguishes four basic parts in a drama: prologue, epeisodion, exodos and choral part. This is also not the division presented by Horace. Already on the morphological level the difference in thinking is visible, μέρος is simply a part, whereas actus is connected with the content of the play, with its exact action and acting itself; actus is therefore a much more precise term. Meros was nevertheless used in the later Greek theatre terminology to mean actus in the Horatian sense. When Marcus Aurelius compares life to drama (12, 36), he is talking about five parts which are supposed to be completed, or more precisely he uses the word in the sense of lines delivered by the actor (ἀλλ’ οὐκ εἶπον τὰ πέντε μέρη, ἀλλὰ τὰ τρία. – ‘But I did not recite all five acts – only three of them’). Can we therefore assume that the original Greek precept of Neoptolemus was about five mere in tragedy, and if so, why has Horace translated it as actus? To answer these questions we have first Jensen (1923), p. 95, with some hesitation accepted by Brink (1963), p. 52. On the meaning of actus in the Ars Poetica, see Beare (1946) and Brożek (1959/60), pp. 16–17.

44 45



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to establish what the practical meaning of an act in ancient drama is. The most natural ‘act-divider’, already mentioned in the Poetics, is the entry of the chorus, therefore acts are the parts of drama involving actors (with and without the chorus). The moment when the stage is left empty and the chorus performs the strophic lyric, the actus is over. It must be stressed here that actus is not an equivalent of a scene per se but in Hellenistic times the dramatist probably started for the sake of the clarity of the plot to limit acts to particular scenes. To describe contemporary practice the Alexandrian critics probably began with the Aristotelian division, but it was far too general to describe the established Hellenistic form of the stage genres. The struggle with the terminology is visible in an extraordinary remark of Pollux: Καὶ ἐπεισόδιον δ’ἐν δράμασι πρᾶγμα πράγματι συναπτόμενον (4.108.6). By πρᾶγμα he probably means scene, but deliberately or not he uses the exact and adequate equivalent of Latin actus. Pollux uses older, mainly Hellenistic, sources and this must be also the origin of the term pragma. It is possible that the Latin form actus originates in pragma, and is an echo of the Alexandrian search for the proper word to express the parts of the drama between the choral songs. Therefore we cannot really say how precise Neoptolemus wanted to be and what term he used.46 It may be that the word pragma was not really accepted in the later theoretical writings because of the great influence of Aristotelian terminology, and maybe also because of the simplicity of the word meros. The recovery of Menander’s comedies has made it clear that his plays were divided into five acts by four choral interludes.47 We can assume that it was the common practice in the whole New Comedy as Menander was its most eminent and influential representative (therefore most of the authors probably imitated his style). The traces of five-act division in Hellenistic comedy are also visible in Roman adaptations of Greek plays by Plautus and Terence (though because of the lack of chorus the structure of the comedies is in this regard strongly modified). A. H. Sommerstein showed that in fact Old Comedy was already dominated by the five-act format (or rather was slowly approaching this principle), although the number of acts varied from seven to four and they were of different lengths.48 The same process is also visible in the plays by Euripides; most of his plays are clearly divided into five parts by the choral entrances.49 It must be stated, though, that what we call the five-act rule was never so closely followed as it was in Elizabethan theatre and its successors. In antiquity, or more precisely from the fourth century bc onwards, it was probably the most common practice dictated by practical considerations and the inner economy of the plays. The division into acts of Greek drama was a gradual process and the ultimate Cf. Beare’s conclusions about the meaning of actus and his unjustified rejection of Pollux’ pragma. See Beare (1948), p. 58. 47 On the division of acts in ancient drama, see Weissinger (1940); in New Comedy, especially Schäfer (1965), Holzberg (1974) as well as: Harsh (1944), p. 316; Damen (1989) and McBrown (1992) with further bibliography. 48 Sommerstein (1984). See also Zimmermann (1987) and Hamilton (1991), who specify more precisely the criteria of act division in Old Comedy. Sommerstein proposed three: the entrance of the chorus, empty stage and the lapse of time, but the last one is especially difficult to prove. 49 Flickinger (1926), p. 193; Harsh (1944), p. 163. For the exact division in each preserved play, see: Aichele (1971), pp. 50f.; Hamilton (1991), p. 354. 46

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five-act rule is a consequence of the constant quest for the perfect play. The practice is, as mentioned before, proven in Hellenistic comedy, but can it also be traced in contemporary tragedy? Of course, we have no Hellenistic play preserved in its entirety to prove or disprove this theory.50 However, there is a suggestion in Hero’s description of Philo of Byzantium’s steam-propelled puppet-staging of the Nauplius myth in a play in Alexandria which indeed comprised five parts or, more precisely, five separate scenes.51 Each part of that play was divided by the time-lapse and different scenery. The division was clear – shutting and opening of the pinax separated the scenes. When the pinax was reopened the audience saw the new arrangement of the ‘scene’: Hero calls it διάθεσις. The term is used to describe the composition of a painting or, in rhetorical terminology – speech composition. Here it is clearly used in the plastic sense of the word: the new composition – arrangement of the scene, i.e. scenery. Therefore it is logical to assume that in the case of Nauplius’ puppet play the division of acts was based on the changing of the scenery, and this is how Hero describes it. Another piece of evidence could be provided by analysing the Exagoge by Ezekiel. The suspected division of the Jewish-Hellenistic drama into five acts could partly solve the problem. But in fact there is no certainty on any point, only that the play was suspected to have be staged in five different scenes.52 Another of Horace’s guidelines concerned the prudent use of divine intervention to solve drama plots. Of course, this instruction concerns the gratuitous use of the deus ex machina in plays that Aristotle had already criticized. None of the extant Hellenistic tragedy fragments actually concerns such solutions of divine intervention, but it is fairly safe to assume that they were used just as they had been used in Classical drama. This was even more likely considering the spectacular nature of such solutions in plot, even if they did betray a rejection of an outcome that was psychologically plausible on the human level as well as being in accordance with a logical sequence of events. Horace’s next precept concerns the maximum number of actors delivering speeches or engaging in dialogues on stage. He recommends that it be no more than three (v. 192: nec quarta loqui persona laboret). Here we should note that such restrictions were in any case dictated by technical possibilities, and not only out of consideration for the audience. After Sophocles introduced the third actor, the practice of three actors speaking on stage became standard in tragedy.53 The important question – why only three? – was already formulated by many scholars, and the answers proposed take into account the role-distribution, audience preference and competition between On the structure of post-Euripidean tragedy, see Taplin (1976); additionally the tragedies of Seneca can be seen as modelled on Hellenistic plays, cf. Tarrant (1978). See page 85f. of this book. Beare (1948), pp. 56ff., argues that the description of the puppet show given by Hero proves that it did not mirror any kind of theatrical practice. His opinion however is not widely accepted. 52 See page 225. 53 The problem of the number of personae loquentes and the distribution of the parts in Classical drama was undertaken in the plethora of scholarly works. The most comprehensive account still seems to be Pickard-Cambridge (1988), pp. 135–56. However different ideas and solutions of the controversy over the rule and the distribution of parts have been proposed; see especially: Rees (1908); Walcot (1976), pp. 44f.; Walton (1980), pp. 138–44; Jouan (1983), pp. 63–80; Gredley (1984); Pavlovskis (1977); Damen (1989); Csapo and Slater (1995), pp. 222f. 50

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actors, as well as other possible factors.54 In the case of Horace’s prohibition of the fourth speaking actor, it is clearly a matter of aesthetic judgement. The poet is not concerned about the staging possibilities, nor does he care about the feelings of competing technitai – actors. He (or rather his Hellenistic original) stands for the traditional exposition and distribution of the play. Naturally enough, again we have no extant fragments to prove that there was any alternate practice, i.e. any testimony that would prove that in Hellenistic times tragic writers started to experiment with the fourth speaking persona on the stage. With the exception of the play Cassandra, where there were indeed three actors (Priam, Cassandra and Deiphobus) and also the chorus, we do not even have examples of plays with more than two actors on the stage. Nevertheless inscriptions from Delphi do mention troupes of three actors playing in comedies and tragedies during the Soteria.55 And there may be evidence that the ‘three-actor rule’ was still practised. The most interesting of Horace’s instructions is one for the chorus to take on the role of an actor in the play, i.e. for the chorus to engage in dialogues with the characters in the play and to sing not abstract songs but words that are relevant to the play. This instruction, if it originated from Neoptolemus of Parion, could express a will to break with the fourth-century practice of choruses singing universal embolima between the acts. In this case, it seems that extant fragments and testimonia confirm such practices in the Hellenistic period, a subject that is discussed more fully in this chapter in a section on the chorus. The precepts of Horace and Neoptolemus are to some extent in accordance with the Aristotelian theories expressed in the Poetics, but they certainly differ markedly in detail and in fact only three of them can be directly linked to Aristotle. The prohibition of horror enacted on stage may be a distant echo of Aristotle’s postulate 14. 1452b12: οἵ τε ἐν τῷ φανερῷ θάνατοι καὶ αἱ περιωδυνίαι καὶ τρώσεις καὶ ὅσα τοιαῦτα, but the precept was drawn up and expressed much more precisely. The same applies to the precept about the use of the deus ex machina: in the Poetics it is said that it should be restricted to the ‘external’ parts of the play (prologues and epilogues)56. Aristotle condemns Agathon’s dramas because he disapproves of the use of embolima and demands that the chorus’s parts should be the integral part of the whole. Horace though demands more – he wants the chorus to be morally involved in the plot (v. 193: actoris partis chorus officiumque virile/ defendat).57 The most mysterious and puzzling part of the Ars Poetica is the section on the satyr play (vv. 220–50). The genre, unlike tragedy and comedy, was neither written nor staged in Rome and despite that fact Horace writes: ‘verbaque, Pisones, satyrorum scriptor amabo’. Many interpretations have been posed for explaining the passage and See especially Appendix of Damen (1989), with further bibliography. Sifakis (1967), p. 74. But see Bywater (1909) on Arist. Po. 15. 1454b2: ἀλλὰ μηχανῇ χρηστέον ἐπὶ τὰ ἔξω τοῦ δράματος (pp. 330f.). 57 On the moral aspect of the music in the Ars Poetica (vv. 202–19), see Brink (1971), pp. 260ff., who collates the passage with clearly Hellenistic resentments of Aristoxenus (Ath. 14. 632B): ‘… let the few of us by ourselves remember what music was like, for now the theatres have become utterly barbaric and that vulgar music has proceeded to destruction and ruin’. 54 55 56

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its relation to Roman literary conditions.58 The content must be Hellenistic as the satyr play is presented through a negative comparison to New Comedy (‘ut nihil intersit Davusne loquatur et audax /Pythias emuncto lucrata Simone talentum’), but the whole passage is strongly Latinized, which is a paradox per se as the genre is not Roman. For Horace the satyr play is a middle genre between tragedy and comedy, which is fundamentally different to what Aristotle said in his history of the development of the dramatic genres (Poetics 4. 1449a 9ff.). However, we have to keep in mind that whatever Horace says about the satyr play is a combination of Hellenistic theory on an ideal satiric genre and the poet’s idea of it. It is very doubtful that he had ever witnessed a staging or re-staging of a Greek satyr play, and therefore his knowledge of the genre is purely theoretical (no doubt he was familiar with the works of the classical tragedians). Presenting the satyr play as a middle genre between tragedy and comedy is, however, very interesting; it may mirror the early Hellenistic struggle to redefine the genre and to adapt it to the new social and staging conditions. It is symptomatic that the plays of early Hellenistic poets (Python, Lycophron and Sositheus) that we know presented elements typical in Old Comedy (mocking the contemporary, wellknown personalities like Harpalus, Menedemus and Cleanthes, obscene language). The yearning for the old type of satyr play evident in the epigram AP 7.707 by Dioscorides59 presents similar longing for the traditional themes and staging practice as the precepts of Horace. Therefore it is possible that Neoptolemus already presented the genre as a transitional form. The last but not least influential Hellenistic treatise on poetics, which included a discussion of dramatic genres, was the work On Poetry by Philodemus of Gadara (c. 110–40bc), a contemporary of Horace. Only very short passages of his work (or rather of the extant fragments of it) are devoted to tragedy. Fragments 23–2860 of Book 2 are devoted to the problem of euphony in drama, and 28–31 probably deal with the features of a good poet, especially in the context of originality (it is being discussed in relation to the example of Euripides). Unfortunately, the passage of Book 3, which contains Philodemus’ discussion of Aristotle’s view on the satyr play and tragedy, is severely damaged. It is possible to reconstruct to some extent the general idea, but the detailed argumentation is not really preserved. Interesting though are the single phrases and expressions used by Philodemus. In fr. 3 col. 1 he implies that the satyr play employs mockery (χλευασμός), which is by other authors, including Aristotle, collated with comedy.61 It may again be an effect of the early Hellenistic practice of writing satyr plays with the mocking elements of Old Comedy. Philodemus’ long disquisition on mimesis, representation of people in action and – most of all – his criticism of Aristotelian definitions of poetic genres mirror his own struggle with creating definitions at a time when poetic composition was both eclectic and found in See Brink (1971), pp. 274ff., with the survey of interpretations (including Brink’s own idea of Horace intending to re-establish the Greek genre in Rome). The hypothesis of Plotnick (1979) that we are dealing here with a Horatian literary play (satyr drama for Latin satura, which Horace indeed authored) seems to me more plausible. This does not change the fact that the passage is taken (and maybe slightly caricaturized) from a Hellenistic treatise – most probably from Neoptolemus. 59 See page 47 and 93f. 60 Lines numbers after Janko (2010). 61 Rhet. 2.6.1384b10; Plu. Mor. 348B; Ath 5.187C, 15. 694E. See Janko (2001), p. 247n. 7. 58



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mixed forms. Again in fr. 3, 111, 20, the term spoudaios appears in the context of the definition of tragedy – Philodemus concludes the whole passage with the statement that σεμνότερα μεμιμῆσθαι (imitating the more dignified) cannot be a basis for definition. At the end of the third book Philodemus criticizes the Aristotelian division of tragedy into parts (εἴδη). Unfortunately, Philodemus’ fervent criticisms in Book 3 focus mostly on Aristotle and do not mention Neoptolemus, to whom he will turn directly in Book 5. 3 – not in the context of drama, but the manner of composition and style in general, and criticism of the division: style–content–author .62 Neoptolemus was probably the originator of the threefold formula – known from later grammarians and in Horace’ Ars Poetica.63 One should not underestimate the contribution of literary theory to the development of Hellenistic drama. In this respect certainly for the first time we are dealing with an epoch where the official study of literary genres was considered important and as a result of which closer attention was paid to the proper composition of literary works. Such care would have also undoubtedly applied to tragedies, at least during the so-called Alexandrian period, when distinguished dramatists such as Lycophron and Alexander Aetolus were at the same time ‘research fellows’ at the Alexandrian Library. It is very important to realize that that the classical tragedians had themselves already reflected on the changes in the genre that they had made. They were also fully conscious of the rules of their art. Aristotle quotes an interesting reflection of Sophocles on the comparison between his poetry and that of Euripides: he made his characters what they ought to be while Euripides made them what they were (Poetics 4, 1449a15).64 We can be sure that no less conscious of their work were the Hellenistic tragedians, especially the ones working in the Great Library of Alexandria. Naturally literary theory in the case of drama could merely codify existing practice, but it also thus formed a reference base for later playwrights. Basically, we lack information concerning both practice and theory in Hellenistic drama, but in both cases even the small fragments of information that do exist cannot be overlooked in the study of the general history of theatre.

Tragic themes Historical themes Political and social changes of the sort that occurred towards the end of the fourth century bc could not but have had an influence on the development of drama in this period. We know that in the middle of the fifth century comedy, tragedy and the satyr For the recent translation of Philodemus’ On Poems Book 5 by D. Armstrong, see Obbink (1995), pp. 255–69. The passage is also discussed in Porter (1995), pp. 102–8. 63 The idea is nevertheless based on an earlier Aristotelian idea; see Porter (1995), pp. 118–23. 64 There are also gnomic reflections on poetry in classical tragedy, e.g. Eur. Supp. vv. 180–3, Andromache, v. 476. Not to mention the Euripidean covert criticism of Aeschylus’ dramatic technique (Phoenician Women, vv. 751–3; contra Aeschylus’ Seven Against Thebes, vv. 375–676; or Electra vv. 518–43, against the tokens of anagnorismos in Aeschylus’ Libation Bearers). 62

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play had already ceased to be an exclusively Attic way of celebrating religious and state events, as they began their triumphal procession throughout the Greek-speaking world. Dramatic performances came to symbolize Hellenization and thus also to represent high culture in the provinces. Of course, drama had been known as an ‘export product’ of Athens ever since the days of Aeschylus and his journeys to Sicily, but it was not until the time of Euripides that Greece realized the potential cultural power of drama. This is best testified by the efforts undertaken by King Archelaus of Macedonia to draw the great tragedians Euripides and Agathon to his court. It is generally known that plays dealing with historical subjects had been written as early as the fifth century bc. However, these concerned the historical events of Athens, usually recent ones which would have been within people’s living memories. Although selecting such subjects was in a sense representing the ‘voice’ of the democratic polis, the plays were not supposed to have any political undertones. Evidence of this was the punishment of Phrynichus for staging the Sack of Miletus. The city authorities most probably felt that the dramatist was playing with the emotions of citizens, who had earlier been greatly angered by Athens’ failure to save Miletus. Aeschylus’ Persians, by contrast, belonged to a different category of historical play in that it is in equal measure a tragedy of character as it is praise of Athens. Reminding the Greeks of their past victories over the mighty Persians played a very important social role and raised civic morale at a time of internal crisis, but its purpose was not to achieve any specific political goals. That type of function was performed by Old Comedy, particularly as such plays were performed during the Lenaia, a special time when the citizens of Athens were at liberty to ‘settle scores’ with current politicians without fear of reprisals. Tragedy was at most supposed to present the grandeur of democratic Athens. In the fourth century historical plays of a different sort began to appear. This was directly associated with the spreading of the tragic genre to other, non-democratic Greek poleis. The first tragedy of this new sort was written by the tyrant Dionysius the Elder (430–367 bc)65 and it concerned his recently deceased wife, Doris. Two fragments of this play have survived: Doris the wife of Dionysius is gone (F9) and oimoi excellent wife is dead (F 10). To be precise, this play cannot be called a historical play in the strict sense of the word as it concerned very recent and indeed exceptionally personal events. In the play Dionysius treats himself and his wife as the equivalents of mythical heroes in a Classical tragedy, perhaps even modelling it on Euripides’ Alcestis.66 One cannot rule out that the tyrant even played himself in the tragedy. Like Lucian,67 we may be critical of Dionysius’ stage activities, but one cannot deny that he was original in his selection of topics. In a certain sense, the tragedy Mausolus by Theodectes was similar. After the death of the tyrant of Caria, the one whose famous tomb was constructed in Halicarnassus, Mausolus’ wife, Artemis, persuaded the playwright to write the tragedy as a sort of homage to this deceased ruler. There exist TrGF 76. Dionysius was in fact the author of many tragedies, of which several titles are preserved (Adonis, Alkmene, Hektoros lytra), and at least one satyr play Limos. He got a prize for a tragedy at the Lenaia in Athens (D.S. 15.74.5). 66 See Xanthakis-Karamanos (1980), pp. 153–4. 67 We have both extant fragments thanks to Lucian (Ind. 15), who ridiculed Dionysius’ style. 65



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justified doubts as to whether or not this was a play intended for the stage, or rather whether or not it was ever performed.68 Yet even if it was never staged in Athens or any other polis, this is still interesting evidence of a new, nascent trend in Greek theatre. The commemoration of a recently deceased ruler who was a great friend of Athens and the Hellenic world also had its political aspect, one which highlighted the ties between Caria and Greek civilization. The disappearance of this play is a great loss to theatre history, for it was unique evidence of ongoing changes in the writing of tragedy. It is possible that an image of the performance of a lost play concerning contemporary events has been preserved on an Apulian crater of the so-called Darius Painter.69 The scene depicts Darius Codomannus consulting his advisers. If this scene indeed has anything to do with a lost tragedy, it would be evidence that dramatists were interested in political events. Such a tragedy would mark the start of new Hellenistic trends. The great breakthrough in the writing of tragedy actually came with the onset of the Hellenistic era, and it was associated with a change in the mentality of both the Greeks and the people who would henceforth be influenced by Greek culture. At a time when the fate of individuals was increasingly affected by the personal urges of rulers, when the free Hellenic world, having defeated Persia, itself became fascinated with the East and absorbed elements of its culture, at a time when Greece lost the delusion of democracy and personal freedom for good and replaced it with a sense of Pan-Hellenic grandeur, Greek tragedy embarked on a new, quite different course of development70. The political and social situation posed new challenges for Greek drama, as it now became an everyday form of entertainment, not only for the Athenians or Greeks, but also for all those who wished to be assimilated into Hellenic culture. The first stage in this change of course was a change of topics taken up in tragedies and satyr dramas to serve particular political goals. It is not mere coincidence that this new historic epoch actually started in the theatre. The road to the throne and to world conquest began for Alexander in a small theatre in Aigai, where his father Philip II, who knew the power of the stage as a political propaganda weapon, was murdered. Alexander himself, during his long expedition, was accompanied by artists and actors.71 And it was during this great campaign, which transformed the world, that we have the first example of the revolutionary change in satyr play themes, the staging of Python’s Agen. As has already been stated, plays on contemporary topics sporadically appeared in the previous centuries, but it was not until the Hellenistic period that the effect that the stage could have on society was fully appreciated and exploited as a political instrument. The authors of tragedies now focused on contemporary figures and The Suda s.v. Θεοδέκτης only states: Ἀδτεμισίας τῆς γυναικὸς αὐτοῦ προτρεψαμένης, καί ἐνίκησε μάλιστα εὐδοκιμήσας ἐν ῇ εἶπε τραγῳδίᾳ. Gellius in Attic Nights, 10. 18.5: ‘extat nunc quoque Theodecti tragoedia quae inscribitur Mausolus’. Ribbeck (1875), p. 146, and Pohlenz (1954), p. 191, are of the opinion that this was a sort of monodrama, whereas Zwierlein (1966), p. 154, nevertheless considers it to be a tragedy. 69 Naples Museum: nr 3253; Pickard-Cambridge (1988), fig. 191; Trendal and Webster (1971), pp. III, 5, 6. 70 On the pan-Hellenic ideas in fourth century drama, see Xanthakis-Karamanos (1980), p. 4. 71 On Philip’s theatre, see Wiles (1997), pp. 38–9. On dramatic performances held during Alexander’s campaign in Tyre, Susa and Ecbatana, see Plu. Alex. 29 and 72; Ath. 12. 538F–539A; Arr. An. 7.14.1. 68

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events. Plays were now not only supposed to interest the audience, they were also supposed to inform them of political events and provide an interpretation that was at the given time politically expedient. A tragedy of this sort was Moschion’s Men of Pherae. If scholars who consider that this play was about the killing of the cruel Thessalian tagos Alexander of Pherae are right,72 we are dealing with the presentation of a tyrant being punished, and this was not a mythical punishment but something that had really happened and was proof of divine justice within people’s living memories. In an era when new dynasties and kingdoms were being founded, and as a result politics was becoming increasingly aggressive, a play like this carried a clear socio-political message. It was a means of comforting citizens, providing hope and also in a sense a warning to other rulers of inescapable retribution for their crimes. It was also the expression of political views opposed to Alexander of Pherae. Possibly a similar type of tragedy was written by Lycophron under the title of Cassandreians if, for example, we accept that it concerned the tyrant Apollodorus.73 However, if this tragedy was about the fate of Phila, the wife of Demetrius Poliorcetes, or that of Arsinoe, the matter is even more pronounced. If this was so, it would have concerned not only contemporary issues but also explicitly the Ptolemaic point of view. As such it would have propagated the political course adopted by Ptolemy II, and in a sense served as a means of passing information on to the Alexandrian public. As a ‘state official’ at the Library, Lycophron’s association with the royal court was close enough to make his writing of such a play plausible. Judging by its title, one may also imagine that another of Lycophron’s tragedies, Allies, had a contemporary, military or political context. However, this title is much too general for us to formulate any far-reaching theories. Undoubtedly contemporary topics in plays did to some degree serve the purposes of political propaganda. Yet fascinating as it might be, this particular aspect of theatre goes beyond the scope of this book.74 A different trend in the use of historic themes in tragedies of the Hellenistic period concerned stories of the fortunes of Eastern dynasties. An example of this may be the partially preserved tragedy about Gyges. We do not know the name of the author, but there can be little doubt that he lived in the Hellenistic period.75 Largely based on Herodotus’ account, the drama presents an episode from the history of Lydia. This colourful tale of an imprudent ruler, blinded by love for his wife, the humiliated queen and the loyal servant is particularly appropriate to this age. So too the scenery, steeped in Eastern lavishness, which allowed the author to express the realities of the Lydian court as a virtual fantasy world. And likewise the bloody punishment inflicted on the husband perfectly matches the Hellenistic view of tragedy. In certain respects Moschion’s Themistocles might be seen as a historical drama of a similar sort. Although the subject was actually an Athenian politician, if O. Ribbeck’s interpretation is correct, the play is set at the court of Artaxerxes and concerns the final years of Themistocles’ life. It is really only in the final period of his political life that one can find tragic elements that lend themselves to dramatic material. As such 75 72 73 74

See p. 131ff. See p. 83ff. Some of the problems regarding this issue are discussed in Perrin (1997). This play is discussed in detail on p. 178ff. of this book.



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it would suit the Hellenistic fashion for writing tragedies with an Eastern flavour. Additionally, the tragedy refers to a period of Athenian might, which would be very significant if Moschion staged the play in that very city. At a time when the intellectual capital of the Greeks was a mere memory, recalling in tragedies the city’s outstanding citizens was an important element in restoring in Athenians a sense of self-esteem. Perhaps that is why not only Moschion, but also Philiscus wrote a play entitled Themistocles. In the case of tragedies concerning historical or contemporary events, it is easy to find a reason why they have not survived to this day. It is said that if something becomes outdated, it ceases to be comprehensible to audiences and thus also ceases to be performed on the stage. Undoubtedly this was one of the reasons why the plays Men of Pherae and Cassandreians have not survived – perhaps not the only reason, but certainly a sufficient one for the tragedies not to be popular in later times. The texts must have survived for another several centuries for their fragments to be cited by Stobaeus in his Anthology and Athenaeus in the Deipnosophistae, but they were certainly not as well known to the general public as the plays of Euripides. Furthermore, one has to concede that even only a hundred years after the death of Alexander of Pherae his story would have in all probability only been known to historians, other scholars and perhaps the descendants of the city inhabitants who had been wronged by him. One could therefore hardly expect the general public of Athens or Alexandria to have been moved by the story of how he was killed. The relevance and existence of such plays was very short-lived. It seems that political dramas of this sort were generally only written at the start of the Hellenistic period. Later, at least up to the second half of the third century bc we hear of no tragedies concerning contemporary themes. Perhaps this was just a passing fad that emerged at the end of fourth century as a result of the then ongoing political upheavals. In the subsequent century the political situation became sufficiently stable for plays on contemporary affairs to cease being popular or perhaps even tolerated. Judging by the pathos of the actors’ masks, always with a high onkos, and their elevated boots, one gets the impression that plays now expressed an exclusively mythical reality, and that on the stage audiences now only saw legendary heroes and gods. Yet the association of theatre with politics remains an interesting issue. In the Hellenistic epoch the theatre building frequently served as a venue for public gatherings: as the ekklesiasterion. Real political events took place on the theatre stage or were at least announced from there. Several such events occurred in the second half of the fourth century bc, including the aforementioned death of Philip II, the ‘staging’ of the execution of Hippo, the tyrant of Messana (conducted in a public theatre in 344 bc) and the failed suicide attempt of Mamercus, the tyrant of Catana, on a theatre stage in Syracuse. It seems that events of this sort, bordering between reality and theatre, had a powerful influence on the development of tragedies dealing with contemporary subjects. In a sense real life had made its way to the stage. Later politicians mastered the ability of using the theatre for their own purposes. Political events started being re-enacted on stage and the audience’s emotions were controlled using the techniques developed in tragedies. This was how in 294 bc the entry of Demetrius

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Poliorcetes into Athens was arranged so that the Athenians would see him for the first time when they were gathered in the theatre and he appeared coming through a side entrance on to the stage.76 Andronidas and Callicrates hired an actor to pretend to be a courier from Rome and thus persuade the Achaean League in Sicyon (naturally gathered in the theatre) to adopt their policy of making peace between Ptolemy VIII and Antiochus IV.77 And one could cite many other examples.78 In my opinion it is this close association between politics and theatre that influenced the development of social and political themes in tragedy.

Mythical themes Historical tragedies nevertheless accounted for no more than a small percentage of the plays performed on the Hellenistic stage. In this period, as indeed throughout the entire history of ancient theatre, mythological themes predominated. Of course, our knowledge regarding the most frequently used myths is very selective. We need to remember that only small fragments of information on drama in those times have survived to our day, and extant play titles only account for a tiny percentage of tragedies written in the Hellenistic period. One might even question whether there is any point in presenting mythological tragedies, since we know so little about the work of Hellenistic dramatists. After all, hypothetically we could assume that the extant titles are in no way representative of tragedies written in that period and that they might even be unique. Yet even such a small number of extant tragedy fragments and relevant testimonia do create a remarkably consistent picture which points to specific tendencies and trends in the writing of Hellenistic tragedies. And these trends are confirmed in other forms of literature in that period. Certain groups of titles allow us to discern the popularity of given mythological cycles, while others confirm a strong connection with tragedies from earlier epochs. There also exist specific groups of titles that are evidence of the typically Hellenistic interest in previously unknown mythical versions. Studying the legacy of Hellenistic tragedy, one quickly notices that the most frequently repeated mythological cycle in that period was the Trojan cycle. Interest in the fate of Ilion, and especially those events that were not described in the Iliad and Odyssey but were instead taken from the epic cycles, was a universal feature of literature in the Hellenistic period. The tradition of tragedies of the Classical period must also have had a not inconsiderable influence on the popularity of such themes. Hellenistic plays inspired by Trojan myths also concerned the founding of the city, e.g. Dymas’ Dardanus, as well as the fate of the heroes who took part in the expedition against it, such as Eurypyleia by Homerus of Byzantium. The largest number of tragedies known to have concerned Troy was written by Nicomachus of Alexandria in Troas. This should not surprise us, since he glorified the legendary past of his homeland. Of the 13 extant titles of his plays, five are associated with the Trojan cycle: Plu. Demetr. 34. Plb. 29. 25, this took place in 169 bc. 78 A large number from various areas of politics are mentioned in the article by Chaniotis (1997). 76 77



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Alexander, Neoptolemus, Sack [of Troy], Polyxena and Teucer. Moreover, epigraphic records also mention titles of tragedies with Trojan themes written by lesser known authors, e.g. Phoenix by …]enodorus. Two inscription titles are associated with the house of Atreus: Theodorus’ Hermione and Polemaius’ Clytemnestra. To this second group we may also add Nicomachus’ Tyndareus, as in it he must have written about the misfortunes of Helen’s father. Plays dealing with ‘Trojan’ related myths or rather the fortunes of heroes involved in the war include Lycophron’s Nauplius and Moschion’s Telephus. It is interesting that in the same period the Trojan cycle also served as a backdrop for satyr drama plots. The known titles include Harmodius’ Protesilaus, Polemaius’ Ajax and Theodotus’ Palamedes. Of the small number of extant papyrus fragments that can be dated to the Hellenistic period, two deal with Trojan events. The first of these, which I have suggested we call Cassandra on account of it presenting a dialogue between Cassandra and Priam as well as Deiphobus, concerned the famous duel between Hector and Achilles. The second, entitled Neoptolemus, includes an account related to Deidamia on the epiphany of Achilles as well as another fragment in which Neoptolemus is perhaps presented to Phoenix. Other plays that were in all probability taken from this epic cycle include Lycophron’s Telegonus, as well as the presumed tragedy entitled Astragalistae by Alexander Aetolus.79 Another epic cycle that seems to have been a popular theme in Hellenistic tragedies is the Theban cycle. Here again this seems to have been dictated by playwriting tradition and the exceptionally tragic history of the Labdacids. From Lycophron’s legacy we know of four play titles concerning this group of myths: Laius, Chrysippus and two plays entitled Oedipus. The aforementioned Nicomachus authored three plays from this cycle: Eriphyle, Alcmaeon and Oedipus. In all, we know of four Hellenistic plays entitled Oedipus, adding to the above a tragedy called Oedipus by Sosiphanes. No doubt there were actually many more than that, but because the myth was already very popular in the Classical period and the masterpieces of the three great tragedians were so well known historically, Hellenistic plays did not survive confrontation with the ‘classics’. Even a cursory review of the list of extant play titles reveals striking similarities with the works of dramatists of the Classical period and the fourth century bc. It is hard not to get the impression that the range of myths used in plays by and large remained the same after the repertoire had been set by Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides. These fifth-century authors were also naturally the first to use themes from the two above-mentioned Trojan and Theban groups of myths. We know that Sophocles also wrote tragedies entitled Hermione and Clytemnestra. The same can be said for other tragedies: Nicomachus’ Mysians can be compared with dramas of the same title by Aeschylus and Euripides, and Moschion’s Telephus with plays of the same title by all three of the great tragedians. These similarities can be best illustrated in table form. Table 1 presents only the Hellenistic play titles that match up exactly to those of the Classical authors, and one should note that many more plays dealt with the same myths but bore different titles. For example, Lycophron’s Pentheus most probably Venini (1953), p. 9.

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Table 1.  Play titles from the Hellenistic and Classical periods. Title

Hellenistic author

Classical author

Oedipus

Sosiphanes, Lycophron, Nicomachus Nicomachus Nicomachus Lycophron Lycophron Lycophron Lycophron Moschion …]enodorus Theodorus Polemaius Nicomachus Nicomachus Sosiphanes Nicomachus Nicomachus Nicomachus Homerus of Byzantium

Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides Sophocles, Euripides Sophocles, Euripides Sophocles, Euripides Sophocles Euripides Euripides Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides Euripides Sophocles Sophocles Sophocles Sophocles Sophocles, Euripides Sophocles Sophocles Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides Sophocles

Alcmaeon Alexander Andromeda Nauplius Hippolytus Chrysippus Telephus Phoenix Hermione Clytemnestra Neoptolemus Eriphyle Meleager Polyxena Tyndareus Mysians Eurypylus

corresponded to The Suppliants by Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides. Likewise the aforementioned Lycophron’s Pelopidai most probably corresponded to, for example, Euripides and Sophocles’ Atreus and Sophocles’ Tantalus. One can go on making such comparisons, but the most important point proven here is the popularity of the Classical authors, who went on to influence their successors in the third and second centuries bc. The names that most frequently appear are those of Sophocles and Euripides. Why the latter should be so popular in later centuries is generally known, but Sophocles appears to be no less fashionable as far as inspiring later playwrights is concerned. On should add that particular themes in myths were especially evident in tragedies, and that is why they were so frequently repeated. This had already been noticed by Aristotle, who from a dramatic point of view considered the best mythological figures to be Alcmaeon, Oedipus, Orestes, Meleager, Thyestes and Telephus.80 As can be easily noted, Hellenistic tragedians also appreciated the attractiveness of these mythological figures on the stage. They have followed the example of not only Classical writers, but also the dramatic authors of the fourth century, as Telephus was written by Cleophon, whereas plays entitled Oedipus were written by Carcinus, Theodectes, Timocles and Diogenes of Sinope.81 Yet in another respect, as far as the use of myths in tragedies was concerned, the Hellenistic period was original, because the range of myths was now extended to Arist. Po. 1453a 17–22. See Xanthakis-Karamanos (1980), p. 16.

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include new, typically Eastern elements. A. Lesky called these elements exotic, and in fact the tragic themes of this type mirror the general tendency of Hellenistic aesthetics – to merge various traditions, sometimes diametrically different in character82. A special position was held by Adonis, who as a hero of an eclectic mix of Greek and Syrian beliefs became a very popular figure in Hellenistic times. A precursor in introducing this myth is Dionysius the Elder (430–367 bc), who wrote a tragedy entitled Cinyras, relating the tale of the undoubtedly incestuous relationship of Adonis’ mother, Myrrha, with her father, Cinyras, as well as the tragedy Adonis. In the Alexandrian era Ptolemy IV became the author of an Adonis play. It is quite telling that dramatic adaptations should be made of the same myth by both a tyrant and a king. Clearly Dionysius had ‘paved the way’ and this encouraged the Hellenistic ruler to take up the same theme. Of course, a tragedy entitled Adonis was also written by Philiscus. Hellenistic tragedians, moreover, came up with quite unique titles, such as Nicomachus’ Eileithyia, Lycophron’s Aeolus and Aeolids or Sositheus’ Aethlius. These titles bear testimony to a search for originality by dramatists of that period and, as in the case of Adonis or historical plays, they belie the notion that these authors only reproduced previous works. Of course the lack of any complete Hellenistic tragedy prohibits the construction of a coherent image of this subject. Nevertheless, we should take into the account the exceptionally valuable testimony provided by Pollux regarding special masks used to express concepts, such as Λύσσα (Rage), Οἶστρος (Passion), Ὕβρις (Hubris), Πόλις (City), Πειθώ (Persuasion), Ἀπάτη (Deceit), Μέθη (Drunkenness), Ὄκνος (Hesitation) and Φθόνος (Envy). If there existed a need to produce such masks, then they would have no doubt been worn on the stage. Hellenistic drama thus introduced to the theatre a new pantheon of personified abstract concepts. Such deities were very popular in the visual arts of that period, so it is hardly surprising that tragedies also provided an excellent means of propagating new cults (Polis, Peitho). Some of these figures, such as Lyssa and Hybris, did not even really belong to the ‘divine’ canon but instead represented the acting force in tragedies. An absolutely essential deciding factor in the selection of subject matter was also, it appears, the place of the performance of the play. The authors wrote frequently for the taste of the local public (and perhaps even at the commission of local officials). This practice is confirmed by the example of Dymas of Iasos, who was twice honoured with gold crowns by the Samothracians for his work for the citizens of the island and his composition of a drama on the theme of their hero, Dardanus.83 Similarly honoured was Zotion of Ephesus by the inhabitants of Coroni. The poets would in addition willingly reach for the local histories of their poleis and sing the praises of their homeland. This is the case with the tragedies of Nicomachus of Alexandria in Troas, which concerned the Trojan heroes. Homerus of Byzantium proceeded in the same way: according to Christodorus’ epigram, ‘he practised the wise art of tragedy/ adorning his Byzantine motherland with poetry’ (AP 2. 407–413). It is not out of the

Lesky (1972), p. 536. See p. 174.

82 83

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question that, for the similar glorification of his homeland in his works, Theatetus was mentioned on the famous inscription Pride of Halicarnassus. Despite the very incomplete state of evidence, a very careful study of Hellenistic tragedy reveals its impressive richness. Hellenistic dramatists not only drew inspiration from the Classical tradition, but also took up quite original, mythological and historical themes in their plays. On the basis of very short fragments or mere titles, we cannot know how themes and plots in tragedies were realized, but what evidence we have shows the very broad range of stories that were staged. The innovation of the age is apparent not only in the introduction of contemporary history to tragedies, but also in the employment of new acquisitions of Greek religion. So this was by no means exclusively a time of duplicating the ‘tried and tested’ tragedies of previous epochs. Even when they wrote tragedies on the same themes, or even bearing the same titles as those by Sophocles and Euripides, Hellenistic authors had to take into account the fact that they were dealing with a public that knew the Classical versions very well. Often by renewing Classical tragedies, contemporary dramatists were forced to compete with their predecessors.84 Thus even tragedies with well-known plots and themes had been more than mere replicas of Classical dramas. After all, this was a time when old plays were revived with unusual frequency; the inscriptional evidence certifies situations when a Euripidean tragedy was staged alongside the performance of a new tragedy. Moreover, we should not forget that some members of the public would have owned papyrus copies of Classical tragedies, and were therefore a very ‘refined’ theatre audience.

Issues in tragedy Usually, when discussing tragedy as a literary genre in a given epoch, one cannot ignore the issues they dealt with. But in the case of the Hellenistic epoch this seems virtually impossible. While the extant titles of lost dramas may to a greater or lesser extent give us an idea of their general topics, extant play fragments are too short, and more often than not too universal in meaning, to allow us to determine what the plot was really about. Thus one can hardly answer the question of whether or not Hellenistic tragedies dealt with moral, philosophical or social issues. However, enough is known about the principles that applied to this particular genre as well as the tastes of the Hellenistic public to allow us to make such an assumption. Nonetheless, every thesis, no matter how seemingly obvious, needs to be based on some form of evidence, be it only circumstantial. And in this case the evidence can only be found in the extant fragments. Stobaeus’ work, for which we have the greatest number of verses from Hellenistic tragedies, is arranged in ways that to some extent indicate the issues these plays broached. The Anthology is essentially structured as a collection of gnomai extracted from ancient works of literature and ordered according to given topics. A certain pattern emerges in the case of the Hellenistic fragments. Sosiphanes is cited exclusively in book III, once in the section concerning anger (3.20.18=F5) and twice in that on self-recognition (3.22.3=F6). From book III comes See p. 246ff.

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Moschion’s fragment 8 (3.13.30) in a part of the Anthology devoted to the freedom of speech. However, Hellenistic authors are most frequently cited in book IV. In section 10, entitled In praise of courage, we find fragments from Sositheus’ Aethlius (F3) as well as Moschion’s Themistocles (F1). Both extracts concern lone heroes single-handedly fighting hosts of enemies. In another section of book IV, concerning the proper treatment of the deceased, we have two more fragments from Moschion, one was undoubtedly taken from Men of Pherae F3 (4.57.3), and the other may have also originated from this play F7 (4.57.14). Moreover, book IV includes three other places where Stobaeus quotes Moschion. Fragment 5 (4.41.22) concerns the former king of Argos and is found in a section On the changeability of human life, whereas in a section entitled On the ruler and on what kind of ruler there should be is fragment 9 (4.5.10). Apart from forming such conclusions in relation to individual plays, we cannot, unfortunately, formulate an evaluation which would be applicable to a group of tragedies. Moschion’s fragment 11 is in another section, entitled It is easier to admonish another person than yourself, and is ideally suited there. In book IV there are furthermore a few verses from Lycophron’s Pelopidai, in a section entitled In praise of life. Finally, in section 22a of book IV, which concerns the praise of marriage, we find two fragments from Apollonides, both naturally concerning women. The only fragments to be found in book I are two citations from Moschion. The first includes the title of the play from which it came, Telephus, and is found in a section on the inescapability of fate, whereas the second is the largest extant fragment of the author’s work (F4=1.8.38), and is naturally found in a section on time and beginnings. On the basis of the above we can conclude that Stobaeus (or the source he used) ordered fragments according to general topics undertaken in particular Hellenistic plays. Even if the issues dealt with in particular fragments were not the main subject of the play, thanks to Stobaeus we know at least some of the matters it concerned. For example, we know that part of Apollonides’ tragedy was on the virtues of a good wife, and that Sositheus and Moschion wrote plays in which the protagonist (Aethlius and Themistocles, respectively) heroically confronted an enemy horde. Unfortunately, apart from such individual conclusions we cannot formulate a more comprehensive theory that would encompass a larger group of tragedies. Even extant papyrus fragments are too short to constitute comparative evidence. Thus until the discovery of more Hellenistic tragedy texts, we should refrain from making any final conclusions.

Problems concerning the metre and language One of the most difficult problems associated with Hellenistic tragedies and satyr plays concerns the metre of the texts. In order to discuss it we should consider several matters. First, we should realize that we are dealing with a period that lasted almost 300 years, and so it would be ridiculous to assume that during three centuries dramatic genres did not change. It is enough to consider how much Aeschylus’ metre differed from that of Euripides, who was only two generations younger. This brings

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us to the second matter, namely that particular solutions regarding metre were largely due to the individual preferences of a given author and therefore it would be hard to talk of general trends in any particular genre. Third, our knowledge regarding tragedies written in this period is frustratingly sparse. Of the hundreds of written and staged tragedies and satyr plays, not one single text has survived in its complete form. What fragments we have comprise from just one verse to approximately 40, which in the case of analyzing the metre in dramas normally including over 800 verses is a very serious hindrance. Above all, it forces us to consider the randomness of the extant phrases. Moreover, the lack of texts forces us to compare tragic texts with satyr drama texts, whose respective metres in Classical times, though in both cases dynamic, differed considerably and are even used to determine which genre an unknown play belongs to. In terms of metrical analysis, the only relatively comprehensible phase is that of the Pleiad poets, i.e. at the very start of the Hellenistic period. Extant fragments from the works of Sosiphanes, Sositheus, Lycophron and Moschion do indeed reveal certain common features. We should note that by sheer chance all the known fragments from the works of the above authors are in iambic trimeter. And the first evident characteristic in the extant fragments is the lack of any resolutions in the trimeter. These are ‘clean’ texts with astoundingly regular structures and without a single anapaest! F. Schramm even compared Moschion’s fragments with Lycophron’s Alexandra to show that in the entire ‘tragic epic’ there were only 20 resolutions.85 And none of these fragments break Porson’s law. Such ‘purity’ in several contemporary fragments must be more than coincidental. Conversely, they indicate a certain tendency in the Alexandrian period wherein highly polished works in terms of language and metre were very much appreciated. The period’s learned poetry, the study of metre and the creation of figurative poetry – including games with metre – all bear testimony as to the great importance then attached to this aspect of literature. And contemporary playwrights also followed this trend, not only the authors of tragedies, but also those of satyr plays, who had previously had a more liberal approach to metre. There are additional problems with regard to the study of metre in extant papyrus texts. First, it is virtually impossible to precisely date the fragments. Second, some of the verses have been reconstructed on the basis of the assumed metre, which naturally helps make the text more comprehensible, but assumed additions in the same metre cannot serve as evidence that the original was written with textbook correctness. Moreover, the same problems that hinder the analysis of metre in Hellenistic tragedies also concern the actual language of these texts. In all certainty we can say that the language of Hellenistic tragedy no longer has the idiosyncrasies of any particular dialect but is written in the general standard Greek of the age, based on the Attic dialect, and replete with poetic expressions, taken primarily from fifth-century bc tragedians, though also from Homer, Pindar and other Archaic poets. Moreover, the poetic vocabulary of extant texts indicates the presence of new features, peculiar to the Hellenistic age. Schramm (1929), p. 81.

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Unlike the fragments of Latin playwrights, all the extant Greek tragedy and satyr play fragments of the Hellenistic period, with the exception of a few glosses from Nicomachus of Alexandria in the Lexicon of Photius, originate from anthologies of a gnomic or antiquarian nature. It is for this reason that they generally do not provide us with any unique morphological or phonetic forms and thus contribute virtually nothing to the history of Greek grammar. Some of the poetic forms found in these texts can be explained in metrical terms, for example καταιβάτις (Sosiphanes, F1), a rare feminine form of καταιβάτης, which appears only twice in Lycophron’s Alexandra (91 and 497), once in Apollonius of Rhodes (2, 353 and 3, 160) and even later in Paul the Silentiary (Descriptio ambonis 219).86 Another example is αἰετὸς (Sositheus, F3), a poetic form also frequently applied metri causa by tragedians of the Classical period. Hellenistic tragedians also use specifically non-Attic forms, ones associated with the poetic genres of other dialects. An example of this is ἔμπης, which frequently appears in Homer and other epic poets, e.g. Apollonius of Rhodes, but is quite absent in fifth-century tragedy and comedy, where the ἔμπας form predominates. There are cases where Hellenistic tragedies use colloquial Attic expressions that had previously appeared in comedies but never in Classical tragedies, for example νυνί, which frequently appears in Aristophanes but never in the plays of the three great tragedians, who instead use the νυν form. Moreover, Hellenistic tragedians did not hesitate to use words that Atticists of the Second Sophistic School later declassified as inappropriate to pure Attic style. An example of this is στρηνιῶ (Lycophron, F2), about which Phrynichus Atticista writes that it is used only by the poets of the New Comedy.87 There is also use of words normally found only in prose writing, e.g. τὸν ἀνδρομήκης (Sosiphanes, F1). A frequently expressed opinion among scholars is that one of the specific features of Hellenistic literature includes the accumulation of many rare expressions, including hapax legomena and prota eiremena, of which there are more than a few examples in the discussed fragments, for example the hapax legomena: στεγήρης, εὐιώτιδος, σαρκοβρῶτες, ζυγουλκοῖς (Moschion, F4) and κἀπεχόρτασεν (Sositheus, F1). In addition there are the prota eiremena ἀλληλοκτόνους, σύνθρονος, ἠροτρεύετο (Moschion, F4) as well as the semantic hapax δημόκοινος (Lycophron, F2) – in the sense ‘common’. Rare also is ὀρειγενῆ (Moschion, F4), which we can find only in Nic. Th. 874. Hapaxes are usually compound words. It is a specific feature of the Greek language that it allows for an almost unlimited number of word combinations of this sort, so much so that it is virtually impossible to determine whether we are dealing with a given author’s artistic invention or a traditional poetic expression. Interpreting hapaxes as a differentia specifica of Alexandrian poetry usually seems justified. Nevertheless, on account of the very small number of extant fragments in relation to so many plays that must have been written in the Hellenistic period, one has to bear in mind that we are dealing with hapaxes only in the context of the limited number of texts at our disposal.88 After all, The poetic form of the preposition καται appears already in Homer in compounds. Phryn. Att. 358: · τούτῳ ἐχρήσαντο οἱ τῆς νέας κωμῳδίας ποιηταί, ᾧ οὐδ’ ἂν μανείς τις χρήσαιτο, παρὸν λέγειν τρυφᾶν 88 On the hapaxes in the fourth-century tragedy, see especially Xanthakis-Karamanos (1982). 86 87

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we have no way of knowing whether or not these expressions were used in other plays of this genre. It is hardly surprising that the vocabulary in some of the extant fragments is reminiscent of words used by Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides, for example: μυρίας λόγχης (Moschion, F2), the singular form of μυρίας as a collectivum of an identical expression in Euripides (Ph., 441–2); δυστήνων βροτῶν (Moschion, F2), exactly the same phrase as used in Euripides, F987; ὀμπνίου (Moschion, F4), a rare expression also found in Sophocles, F246; and τὸν δεκάμφορον (Sositheus, F1), also found in Euripides’ Cyclops, 388, and here we should note that both expressions appear in satyr plays. The use of the same words was not merely coincidental. Unfortunately, we do not know all the works of the three great tragedians, let alone those of the Hellenistic authors, and thus proper comparisons are impossible. As it is, until at least another tragedy or satyr play text is discovered, we should refrain from formulating any general conclusions regarding the language and metre of Hellenistic plays.

The chorus One of the most significant problems concerning the history of ancient drama is the existence and the role of the chorus in Hellenistic tragedy. Many scholars have researched this subject but their published works fail to provide satisfactory solutions89. Studies into Middle and New Comedy have indeed revealed that although the chorus continued to exist in these genres, its songs were at best loosely if at all connected with the actual plots of the plays. However, in the case of tragedies, drawing general conclusions of this sort is hindered by the lack of comparative sources. The great authority of Aristotle, as well as a deep conviction that tragedy gradually declined in the fourth century bc, has persuaded scholars to think that in the Hellenistic period choruses either only sang embolima or simply disappeared90. Additional evidence in support of this view are the changes in the performance of plays that occurred once the actors were moved to the proskenion, for it was believed that this would cause communication problems between actors and the chorus. Yet despite this, a study of extant ancient testimonia as well as epigraphic evidence leads us to a very different conclusion. However, first we should take a closer look at the transformations the theatre chorus underwent during the fourth century bc. As already stated, big changes For a detailed study about the ancient evidence on the Greek chorus, see Webster (1970). A good analysis of the problem is provided by Kaimio (1970) and Bacon (1995). On the chorus in tragedy, see especially Müller (1967), and Rode (1971) and Centanni (1991). For detailed studies on Sophocles and Euripides, see Burton (1980), Gardiner (1987), Paulsen (1990), Arthur (1972) and Hose (1990–1). See also Maidment (1935), Sifakis (1980) and Bierl (2000) with further bibliography on the chorus in Attic comedy. On the gradual changes in the structure and the role of chorus, see Nagy (1995) and recently (and very importantly) Wilson (2000). 90 The problem of the role of the chorus in post-Euripidean drama has been tackled in many works, see especially the old but still interesting article by Capps (1895), Körte (1900) and Maidment (1935). For more recent and important discussions of the subject, see the Appendix to Sifakis (1967), Hunter (1979) and Rothwell (1992). 89



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occurred above all in comedy. In play scripts the choral parts were only marked with a short XOPOY note on the margin, which most probably meant the performance of a universal song or sometimes merely a dance sequence with accompanying music. These changes were begun by Aristophanes; the role of the chorus is visibly reduced already in his Ecclesiazusae and Plutus, as in these plays the note XΟPΟY appears in the manuscripts91. Nevertheless we have to keep in mind that in the Ecclesiazusae, as well as in Plutus, the chorus played an important and integral part. The changes were introduced probably very slowly and gradually. Unfortunately the fragments of fourth-century dramas are too rare to analyse the changes play by play. R. Hunter collated all internal evidence in the texts of later Greek comedy, including fragments indicating chorus performances, but the exact role of the chorus in the plays is still an open issue.92 The emergence of embolima that could be easily transferred from one play to another may among other reasons have been dictated by financial considerations as well as perhaps a change in public tastes. Nevertheless, it should be stressed that the chorus continued to exist and was present on the stage throughout the performance of plays. The situation underwent further changes during the whole Hellenistic period. In New Comedy the chorus’s role was reduced to an absolute minimum. Not only did the songs bear no relevance to the comedy plots, but the chorus was also limited to performing merry music and dance sequences called the komos, which involved chorus members encroaching on the orchestra in between acts. More often than not they were portrayed as drunken revellers, the sequence was more or less the same regardless of the play and no particular rehearsal was required. Nevertheless, the chorus remained an important element of the comic performance. Its songs divided the plays into acts and enabled the authors to introduce the necessary time-lapses in the plot, and above all the chorus enhanced the humorous element of the spectacle; the merry komos was to entertain the public. To a certain extent fourth-century tragedy seems to have undergone similar changes. The process was begun by Agathon, in whose plays we indeed observe embolima. The papyrus fragments of many fourth-century tragedies include the short XΟPΟY annotations, signifying choral songs. In all probability the choral repertoire included songs especially suited to particular themes that might appear in plays, such as changing human fortunes, piety or the omnipotence of deities. In the fourth century bc the chorus was present in the orchestra. We know this thanks to a papyrus fragment from Medea, in which the main heroine turns to the chorus (F3, verse 5).93 Tragedy titles such as Agathon’s Mysoi, Cleophon’s Bacchae and Timesitheus’ Danaides also indicate the existence of a chorus in fourth-century plays. G. Xanthakis-Karamanos is of the opinion that although the role of the chorus was considerably reduced, unlike in comedy it was not exclusively limited to dancing On the meaning of the note and its origin in these plays, see: Handley (1953); Koster (1957), pp. 117–35; Pöhlmann (1977). 92 Hunter (1979). 93 The Medea papyrus fragment (P. Lond. 2. 186) is also sometimes interpreted as a comedy; see Snell (1971), p. 92. Xanthakis-Karamanos (1980) nevertheless classifies it as a tragedy. Medea’s reference to the chorus appears after the embolima annotation:] ΧΟΡΟΥ || Μ· γ]υναῖκε αἵ Κορίνθιον πέδον οἰκε]ῖτε χώρα τῆδε πατρώιοι νόμοι. 91

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with the accompaniment of music. In the instructions to tragedies the phrases XΟPΟY and MEΛΟΣ remained.94 G. M. Sifakis holds the opinion that later, i.e. in the Hellenistic period, the changes that took place in the choruses of tragedies were not as drastic as those in New Comedy, as in the former the songs had to in some way be connected with the dramatic plot. Another piece of evidence to support the view that the chorus continued to play a role in the tragedies of the third and second centuries was its existence in Roman tragedy, which no doubt emerged under the influence of Hellenistic theatre.95 Yet on account of the importance of this issue we should take a more systematic approach to ascertain the existence and role of choruses in Hellenistic tragedies. Above all the existence of choruses is evident in the very titles of some Hellenistic tragedies. Sifakis noticed that if the title is in the plural, such as the Mysians, Cassandreians or Men of Pherae, this can only mean that the characters were played by members of a chorus.96 Therefore it cannot be denied that the chorus played an important and integral role in such tragedies. Who the chorus members actually play is also significant, since if they play the inhabitants of the city where the action takes place, they must inevitably be on one of the two sides of the tragic conflict. Even if the songs they sang were of a universal nature, they would still have to have had some connection with the drama plot. However, from the philological point of view the most significant evidence of the existence of choruses has to be found in the actual texts of the plays, and here a papyrus fragment of the Cassandra play provides the only irrefutable proof. In this text the sequences played by the chorus are marked with the abbreviation CΟ. This abbreviation appears three times and on each occasion it asks Cassandra a question. The chorus’ role is active, because it participates in a dialogue between Cassandra and Priam, and thus its uttered words cannot be considered abstract interludes. We do not know whether the chorus also sang the song that on the papyrus fragment is marked ᾠδή (song, ode), but if this was the case, the song would indeed have been an interlude of no greater relevance to the play. However, this is highly unlikely, as the ᾠδή word appears so frequently (roughly every four lines) that any longer piece sung by the chorus would quite disrupt the narrative. Therefore we should rather assume that if the ᾠδή word did not mean something sung by Cassandra97 herself but by the chorus, it would have been no more than a very brief chant. The extant Gyges play fragment also suggests the existence of a chorus. The queen most probably delivers her monologue in front of a gathering of women. P. Maas even believed that the partially preserved opening verses were the chorus’ parodos.98 The evidence is not irrefutable, but verse 7 may be interpreted in the context of the traditional curtseying of women before their queen. Moreover, the high probability Xanthakis-Karamanos (1980), p. 10. One should also stress that there was no chorus in Roman comedy; it also came into existence under the strong influence of the Greek contemporary comedy (although many different factors determined the independent development of dramatic genres in Rome). 96 Sifakis (1967), p. 122. 97 See pp. 195ff. of this book. 98 Maas (1950). 94 95



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of there being a chorus is due to the fact that queen Nysa needed someone in the play (i.e. someone other than the audience) to address her account to, and the most natural recipient of such reporting monologues was indeed the chorus. However, most significant of all is the fact that in both the above examples the chorus would have had to have been in the orchestra while the actors were playing on stage! Here it is out of the question for the chorus to merely enter the stage in between acts of the tragedy. Traditionally another piece of documentary evidence used with regard to the existence of choruses is Ezekiel’s play on Moses. In fact we do not have any evidence that there was a chorus in Exagoge, but it is very possible. There are several hypotheses about the identity of the chorus in Ezekiel’s drama. In the opinion of Sifakis, Sephoras’ sisters are the chorus. He also argues that the number of sisters mentioned in the Book of Exodus need not have determined the number of chorus members in the tragedy.99 Other scholars, on the other hand, believe that this chorus comprised two half-choirs: Jewish and Egyptian.100 Whatever the truth is, on account of the fact that the choral part has been lost, this issue remains open. Yet even if we accept that this work was a play and was actually performed in a theatre or at some private gathering of the Jewish Diaspora, we still do not know whether the chorus remained on the stage during the performance of the actors or whether it merely filled in during the interludes and had nothing to do with the acts. A surprising source of evidence for the existence of choruses in Hellenistic tragedies has turned out to be inscriptions, which confirm the presence of both choreuts and chorodidaskaloi. First, this epigraphic material is exceptionally valuable above all because it usually concerns distinctions and material awards given to specific people, and nothing can be more certain as evidence than an issued invoice or receipt. Second, it is important because, insofar as one can always question whether or not a found literary text was really intended for the stage, inscriptions concerning the theatre set in stone what was at that time really practised in drama. The first of these inscriptions, IG XII 9, 207 from Chalcis, is a decree dated 294–287 bc and guaranteeing provisions for artists performing during the Dionysia and Demetrieia. In it we find the following text about new dresses for the actors: … καὶ τοὺς χοροὺς τῶν ἀνδρῶν τραγῳδῶν τοῖς ὑποκριταῖς τὰ ἱμάτια νέα πα[ρέχειν (l. 31). On the basis of this document we do not exactly know what members of the tragic chorus received, because parts of the text are missing, but it does clearly confirm a chorus of τῶν ἀνδρῶν τραγῳδῶν.101 Slater is right when pointing out all the inconsistencies and difficulties in the reading of this inscription102. Tragodos usually, not only in the inscriptions from Chalcis, means the chief actor of tragedies, so it would suggest a chorus of actors. However, the same inscription (l. 15) mentions the hiring of three choruses of men and three choruses of boys, in addition to three tragodoi and three aulos-players (most probably for the accompaniment to the staged tragedies). One of these three men-choruses must have sung for the tragedies, and therefore several lines Sifakis (1967), p. 123. On the chorus in the Exagoge, see p. 226f. 101 For an important examination of the inscription and valuable corrections, see Stephanis (1984), pp. 499–564 (esp. pp. 533–5) and SEG 34. 896. 102 Slater (1993), pp. 195ff. 99

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below it is specified as τῶν ἀνδρῶν τραγῳδῶν. Much richer in detail is a first-century bc ‘invoice’ from Serapieia in Tanagra.103 In the inscription the agonothetes specifies the sums he spent on the production of gold crowns and on offerings. Moreover, he mentions additionally incurred costs, including 100 Attic drachmas for τ̣οῖς τραγικοῖς καὶ σατύροις (l. 44), as well as 50 drachmas for χοροδιδασκάλοις τοῖς διδάξασι τὰς καινὰς τραγ[ῳδίας καὶ το]ὺς σατύρους (l. 45–6), i.e. the ‘directors’ of a tragic chorus for new plays, and another 50 drachmas for the comic chorus and its chorodidaskalos. Unfortunately, we cannot establish the earnings of individual artists as we do not know how many artists were paid in all. Nevertheless, the text implies that they were most probably paid in a lump sum.104 It is puzzling why the comic chorus is paid in a lump sum with its chorodidaskalos and the satyr play and tragic chorus directors got the money separately from the group called tragikoi and satyroi. In my opinion, we should understand the inscription as follows: tragic and satyr play chorus men get 100 silver drachmas, and the directors of new tragedy and satyr plays 50 drachmas. If we assume that the number of staged comedies and tragedies was the same, it is surprising that the comic artists got much less money. Although on other known inscriptions comic performers and authors got less money, here the disproportion is huge. It can be explained by the fact that the same choruses took part in performing both tragedy and satyr plays, and therefore had been paid double. Alas, the inscription is the only known example of its sort and on such a basis it is impossible to ascertain what the average earnings of a tragic director, the chorus-men and the stage actors were.105 It should be noted here that in the Hellenistic period the terms chorodidaskalos and hypodidaskalos were used interchangeably.106 Both terms, of course, referred to persons who were responsible for preparing the chorus before performances. In periods when the same play was staged many times and the author could not physically be present at each and every performance (which was especially the case with old tragedies, whose authors were dead), chorus ‘conductors’ and the leading actors frequently carried out the role of the play’s director. On various inscriptions we find the term chorodidaskalos used among listed actors. There is an inscription from Argos that mentions as many as 13 such actors.107 Slater raises another problem – the training of the choruses for new plays. He is of the opinion that the chorus-men could only perform interludes irrelevant to the specific texts of dramas as they ‘were in no position to practice special steps or music for all the visiting tragedians’,108 But actually why not? How long in advance did the chorodidaskalos and chorus make themselves acquainted with the texts of the plays? This is a question that is not easy to answer, but we can imagine The first lines of the inscription, IG VII 540, and its remainder, see Christou (1956), pp. 36–8; also SEG 19. 335. An extensive commentary on this inscription is provided by Slater (1993), pp. 189–99 although it is to be stressed that Slater is not convinced that this inscription proves the staging of tragedy, comedy and satyr play with choruses (see p. 192). 105 Interesting (although predating the Hellenistic period) inscriptions from Cyrene (dated circa 335 bc SEG 9. 13 and SEG 48. 2052) certify the granting of an ox to the tragic chorus: for particular discussion of the inscription, see Ceccarelli and Milanezi (2007). 106 This is confirmed by the fact that the same people are referred to in various inscriptions sometimes as chorodidaskalos and at other times as hypodidaskalos. See Sifakis (1967), p. 119. 107 The inscription is published in Vollgraff (1919), pp. 252ff. 108 Slater (1993), p. 192. 103

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that professional dancers and singers do not really need much time, and the texts of new tragedies and satyr plays could easily have been sent to them by the author in advance,109 Many of the tragedy and satyr play poets were members of Dionysiac guilds, and therefore they had good access to professional chorodidaskaloi. Even if some members of the chorus (or the whole group), as suggested by Stephanis,110 were amateur local talents, the professional chorodidaskalos was probably able to train them in a relatively short period of time. I am however not sure if in fact time is the problem here, rather than the number of staged plays. Both the organizers and the artists were fully aware of where and when such festivals would take place, and must have known months if not years in advance. However, the number of both festivals and staged plays must have required either quick training or a large number of choruses. Evidence of sorts regarding the existence of choruses in renewed performances of Classical tragedies is found in Plutarch’s account of what happened at the court of Artavasdes in Armenia (Crass. 33, 3).111 In it we learn that in 53 bc the actor Jason of Tralles performed part of Euripides’ Bacchae before Artavasdes. In Plutarch’s words, ᾀδομένων δὲ τῶν ἑξῆς ἀμοιβαίων πρὸς τὸν χορόν the actor performed the part alternately with a chorus. However, one has to realize that this version of the Bacchae was performed in quite exceptional circumstances. Above all, the actor’s chief prop was the slain Crassus’ head. Moreover, the play was performed in the male section of the Parthian king’s palace. Therefore, we cannot be certain as to what extent this account reflects normal theatrical practice. All other evidence for the restaging of Classical drama proves that it was, rather, performed without a chorus. Many honorary inscriptions certify the presence of the chorus during festivals when tragedies, among other plays, were performed. However, we cannot always be certain that the choruses mentioned were a part of the tragedy’s staging.112 In a few cases this appears to be immediately obvious (e.g. IG XII, 7, 231, 34). The existence of the chorus in Hellenistic tragedies is undeniable. Only the question of its size and the precise role it played continues to pose problems. Dramatic texts indicate that the chorus was present in the orchestra throughout the performance of the plays. In the Cassandra it participates in the exchanges between the characters. If we assume that, at least towards the end of the Hellenistic period, plays were divided into five acts (as Horace’s theory postulated), it seems natural that in between acts, when the actors disappeared behind a door, the audience’s attention would be focused on the chorus. An indication of what may have been performed in practice is expressed in a sentence by Philodemus (Mus. IV, 121, 3–6 Delattre): καὶ διότι περι[ε]ῃρημένης ὀρχήσεως ἐκ τῶν δραμάτων οὐδέν ἔχομεν ἔλαττον, ἐπειδήπερ οὐδὲν ἦν ἐν οὐδεμίαι πρὸς τὸ καλὸν καὶ γενναῖον συνέργημα..113 E. Reisch, who mistakenly attributed these The fact that, during the Serapieia in Tanagra, the winning poets originate from Athens and Rome is also not an argument that these tragedians actually came to Tanagra from those cities; they may have been so-called poeti vaganti and have travelled from town to town offering their texts or resided near Tanagra. 110 Stephanis (1984), p. 527, writing in the context of hiring the artists in the IG XII 9. 207. 111 See pp. 156ff. 112 See the interpretations of Ceccarelli (2010), pp. 138ff. 113 ‘And when the dancing was removed from drama, we incurred no loss, as it contributed neither beauty nor dignity.’ (= Mus. IV: see Kemke, p. 70). 109

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words to Diogenes of Babylon, interpreted them quite literally to mean that dancing was totally absent in tragedies.114 Yet perhaps we should not interpret this sentence so dogmatically. Perhaps it rather suggests that there was simply less choreography in Hellenistic tragedies. Teaching the chorus complicated dance routines required time, and there might have been a shortage of rehearsal time on account of the tight schedule of holidays, during which artists had to perform in order to earn a living. G. M. Sifakis, however, rightly points out that Philodemus’ statement could only refer to theatrical practice in southern Italy, which is also very possible.115 Evidence regarding the existence of the chorus in Hellenistic times may also be found in its later fortunes. In the Roman Empire period the presence of choruses in tragic plays is testified to several times. Lucilius, a poet active during the reign of Nero, states in an epigram (AP 11, 11) that a tragic poet is surrounded by a chorus: Οὐκ ᾔδειν σε τραγῳδόν, Ἐπίκρατες, οὐδὲ χοραύλην,  οὐδ’ ἄλλ’ οὐδὲν ὅλως, ὧν χορὸν ἔστιν ἔχειν· I didn’t know, Epicrates, that you were a tragic actor, or a choral flautist, Or something else altogether – someone among the chorus.

Plutarch also confirms the performances of choruses in his days: ἀλλ' ὥσπερ οἱ τραγῳδοὶ χοροῦ δέονται φίλων συνᾳδόντων ἢ θεάτρου συνεπικροτοῦντος.116 But – like tragic actors – they [the rich and royals] need their own chorus of friends to sing along with them, or the applause of the theatre audience.

The fact that some form of tragic chorus in Greek plays continued into the second and third centuries ad is indisputable. However, we know virtually nothing about original productions from this period.117 The question of the size of Hellenistic choruses is basically unanswerable. There can be no doubt it was drastically reduced since Classical times. Perhaps the different numbers of choristers in Hellenistic performances is confirmed by the statement of Zeno, as quoted by Plutarch:118 ὁ δὲ Ζήνων ὁρῶν τὸν Θεόφραστον ἐπὶ τῷ πολλοὺς ἔχειν μαθητὰς θαυμαζόμενον, ‘ὁ ἐκείνου μὲν χορός,” ἔφη, “μείζων, οὑμὸς δὲ Reisch (1899), p. 2404. Sifakis (1967), p. 121. D. Delattre suggests that Philodemus is writing about Roman Comedy, especially Terence: see Delattre (2007), p. 223, n. 4. 116 Plu. Moral., 63A = Quomodo adulator ab amico internoscatur 48e–74e. 117 A fragment from Dio Chrysostom (19. 5), in which the orator suggests the elimination of the choral parts from the drama, is discussed by Sifakis, and is notable for its exclusive reference to the revival of Classical tragedies in the form of shows: καὶ τά γε πολλὰ αὐτῶν ἀρχαῖά ἐστι καὶ πολὺ σοφωτέρων ἀνδρῶν ἢ τῶν νῦν· τὰ μὲν τῆς κωμῳδίας ἅπαντα· τῆς δὲ τραγῳδίας τὰ μὲν ἰσχυρά, ὡς ἔοικε, μένει· λέγω δὲ τὰ ἰαμβεῖα· καὶ τούτων μέρη διεξίασιν ἐν τοῖς θεάτροις· τὰ δὲ μαλακώτερα ἐξερρύηκε τὰ περὶ τὰ μέλη· ‘And the most of what they give us comes from ancient times, and from much wiser men than those of the present. In the case of comedy everything is kept; in the case of tragedy only the strong parts, it would seem, remain – I mean the iambics, and portions of these they still give in our theatres – but the more delicate parts have fallen away, that is, the lyric parts.’ (trans. J. W. Cohoon in: Dio Chrysostom, vol 2, Discourses 12–30. Harvard University Press: Loeb Classical Library, 1939), p.121. 118 Plu. Moral. 78 E = Quomodo quis suos in virtute sentiat profectus 75a–86a. 114 115



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συμφωνότερος.’ (Zeno, seeing that Theophrastus was admired by many students, said: ‘His chorus is greater than mine, but mine is more harmonious.’) Such a theatrical comparison might point to either the varying numbers of choristers in the competitive performances or the same in various theatres (depending on their financial expenses), or else to the quantity of demi-choruses in tragedy in the first decades of the Hellenistic period.119 A fresco from a tomb in Cyrene presents seven chorus members. This fresco is dated to the times of the Nerva-Antonine dynasty and therefore on its basis one may very cautiously estimate the size of Hellenistic choruses.120 However, this fresco is from many centuries later and might after all only present a certain agreement, or a symbolic number of choreuts, standing by the three actors. It is also fundamental that, in the Hellenistic period, satyr drama was for obvious reasons put on with the participation of a chorus of satyrs (without this element the play would have completely lost its character). Both the extant texts and the iconography confirm this. A chorus of satyrs appeared in Lycophron’s satyr drama Menedemus and most likely presented themselves as students of philosophy.121 In addition a mosaic of a performance from the House of the Tragic Poet in Pompeii is known (fig. 1) which presents the satyr chorus members rehearsing and trying on their costumes. The author of the play presents them with masks while the aulosplayer practises his tunes. Webster presumed that this is a copy of some original from the fourth-century bc,122 but the high onkos of the female tragic mask suggests rather the Hellenistic period. On the mosaic three masks are presented along with the rest; two of these belong to the tragic type. This might point to the fact, that in the same place and with the participation of the same people, both types of dramatic performances were rehearsed. The performance was characteristic of the Hellenistic period, showing artists at work and exposing, as it were, the actors’ workshop. And yet neither tragedy nor satyr drama lost its choral element. However, a precise analysis of the choral role in these plays without even one fragment of lyric is impossible.

The satyr play The development of post-Classical satyr drama took a very different course to that of tragedy. Unfortunately, while tragedy underwent many formal and performative changes which are to us more or less understandable, the contemporary transformations of the satyr play seem virtually incomprehensible. The major obstacle is our It is rather obvious that this concerns tragic performances, because comparing both student camps of the two scholars to the members of the comic chorus, which was formed of singing drunkards, would have been rather insulting. 120 This fresco has unfortunately been destroyed; we only have a colour drawing from the publication of Pacho (1827–9), pls. 49–50. See also Sifakis (1967), p. 122; Pickard-Cambridge (1988), frg. 120; Bieber (1961), pp. 238f., fig. 787. 121 See page 81f. 122 Webster (1967), p. 85. 119

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Figure 1.  Dress rehearsal of a satyr play (first century bc, original c.310–280 bc). Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali-Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompei.

lack of knowledge regarding this genre in the Classical period. One has to remember that as many as 31 plays by the three great tragedians of the Classical period have survived, whereas today we have only one complete satyr play, Euripides’ Cyclops. Even if in addition to this single play there are also several dozen larger or smaller extant fragments, contrary to what scholars would wish, this does not amount to a coherent picture of the genre. What is worse, our chief ancient source of information regarding drama, Aristotle’s Poetics, almost completely avoids the presentation of the satyr play. To realize just how infinitesimal is the percentage of ancient satyr plays currently at our disposal, we need only to consider the fact that during the Great Dionysia in the fifth century alone approximately 300 satyr plays were staged.123 B. Seidensticker Krumeich, Pechstein and Seidensticker (1999), p. 2.

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noted that already towards the end of the Classical period public interest in this genre began to wane. The process was of course very gradual but nonetheless discernible. By the fifth-century agones were held without satyr plays. In 438 bc Euripides ends his tetralogy with the hilarotragoedia Alcestis instead of a satyr play. Of course throughout the Classical period during the Great Dionysia the trilogies traditionally ended with a satyr play, but the status of this last play visibly wanes. The turning point seems to have been 341 bc, when during the tragic agon of the Great Dionysia only one satyr play is recorded. In a certain sense the genre appears to become quite independent of tragedy, not only in terms of subject matter, but also in terms of staging. The transformations undergone by satyr drama in the fourth century are difficult to represent in concrete terms. The changes that occurred were without doubt a part of the evolution of all dramatic genres. In particular the departure of middle comedy from political themes and the onstage presentation of mythological parody,124 which in Classical drama was the speciality of satyr plays, might have caused the latter genre to extend to new topics. Unfortunately, the precise relationships between these changes are impossible to establish, since only fragments of both fourth-century comedy and satyr drama have survived. In addition, the practice of stage performance beyond Attica was certainly significant, the more so since this was a period of gradual expansion for all dramatic genres. One of the few things we can be sure about the fifth-century satyr play is that the material for it was taken from mythology. The plot was never historical or strictly political. We know about only one play that had certain political undertones, namely Cratinus’ Dionysalexandros.125 The characters of Cratinus’ play were no doubt mythical (Dionysus, Alexander-Paris, Hera, Athena, Aphrodite), and so was the plot. Nevertheless at the very end of an ancient hypothesis of Dionysalexandros (POxy 4. 663) we read: κωμῳδεῖται δ' ἐν τῷ δράματι Περικλῆς μάλα πιθανῶς δι’ ἐμφάσεως ὡς ἐπαγηοχὼς τοῖς δ' Ἀθηναίοις τὸν πόλεμον. (In the play Pericles was very convincingly ridiculed by innuendo for having brought war upon the Athenians). This single reference proves that political satire was not totally alien to the fifth-century satyr play but it was presented by the means of mythical parody and burlesque. Unfortunately Cratinus’ drama is the only witness to such practice and we should remember that the author was a master of Old Comedy and therefore his satyr play may have resembled a comedy. The regular satyr play in the Classical period, though, remained – as far as we know – politically uninvolved. Towards the end of the fourth century bc and at the start of the Hellenistic period the satyr drama took on some of the functions and features of Old Comedy. With the development of the comedy of manners, which chiefly dealt with family issues, a certain gap emerged for more social literature. After all, there was a need to take a more wry look at social and political problems so as to allow people to let off steam in the face of how these problems were affecting their daily lives. Comedy no longer fulfilled this role, so audiences turned to the satyr play. The first extant example of this breakthrough in the satyr play is Python’s Agen. This is a political play through and through, performed during the campaign of Alexander On the parody of myths in Middle Comedy, see: Nesselrath (1995); Nesselrath (1990), pp. 188–241. See: Sutton (1980), pp. 136f.; Bakola (2005).

124 125

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the Great in the military camp. An in-depth discussion of this exceptionally interesting and unusual play is found on pp. 113–123. It is worthwhile to briefly recall here that the whole drama concerned Harpalus and his embezzlement of the public purse and scandalous lifestyle. The circumstances of the production, its themes and its particular engagement with various dramatic genres (comedy, tragedy and the ‘actual’ satyr play) make this play a unique phenomenon in the history of Greek drama. Another example of this new type of satyr play is Lycophron’s Menedemus. The testimonia and fragments of this play will be discussed on pp. 77–82 of this book. Here, however, we should look at the deeper meaning of this satyr play as a phenomenon. The title immediately tells us that it concerns the philosopher Menedemus. From the extant fragments we know that among other things the play describes how this learned man organized banquets. Lycophron, who was the philosopher’s personal friend, laughs at how he hosted these parties: a lot of philosophical talk with very little food, of very low quality, and minimal amounts of diluted wine. These soirées, lasting till dawn, were basically classes in his philosophical academy, and so Lycophron in a sense caricatures his entire school of philosophy. This seems even more likely if we accept W. Steffen’s theory that satyrs played the philosopher’s students. Silenus calls them παῖδες κρατίστου πατρὸς ἐξωλέστατοι, which can hardly be treated as a compliment. Aristophanes made Socrates one of the chief characters in Clouds, and based his entire play on mocking the philosopher as well as the stupidity and social menace of his students. Naturally Menedemus also had the typical features of a satyr play. At least one of them was the aforementioned presence of Silenus and the group of satyrs, the children of Dionysus. It was they who must have made up the chorus. The combination of mythological and historical figures was already present in dramas of the Classical period. Such was the situation in Aristophanes’ Frogs, where appearing alongside Dionysus and Heracles are Euripides and Aeschylus. Guggisberg notes that in ancient drama satyrs appear in diverse roles, for instance as fishermen, shepherds, trackers or heralds.126 In Lycophron’s play they are most probably Menedemus’ students, i.e. adepts in philosophy. If so, then their behaviour is in the satirical sense that of contemporary youths. It must have been humour similar to that enjoyed by the audience of Aristophanes’ Clouds. We will never learn what motivated Lycophron to write such a play, but we can assume that he was responding to public demand for drama that exposed contemporary social issues. One more example of change in satyr drama is a play by Sositheus, with an unknown title, which mocks the philosopher Cleanthes. We do not really know if the main plot of the play did actually concern Cleanthes. It is only attested that the author simply threw in the disparaging comment on Cleanthes which by chance was later cited by Diogenes Laertius.127 Then again ‘chance’ might not have had anything to do with it. Without doubt, Sositheus used the οὓς ἡ Κλεάνθους μωρία βοηλατεῖ phrase in his play on purpose, whereas Cleanthes’ explanation and use of the τῇ τυχούσῃ βλασφημίᾳ phrase means that such abuse was ‘casual’. The very fact that satyr plays included such comments, ones that were addressed from the stage to a person still Guggisberg (1947), p. 35. For details regarding this play, see pp. 106ff.

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very much alive, a public figure and a philosopher, may be surprising. Again this was something actually taken from Old Comedy. The method of attack is Aristophanic: strong language used against a person sitting in the theatre and recognized by the public. And yet Dioscorides in his epigram (AP 7, 707) calls Sositheus the restorer of the satyr drama tradition. Could it be that an author who was criticized by the public (and we know that his attack on the philosopher Cleanthes was not well received by the Athenians) had returned to a ‘pure’ form of writing plays? This question could be answered by examining the chronology of Sositheus’ works, but this is something we do not have at our disposal. The only two other satyr plays known to have been written by him (Daphnis or Lityerses and a play about Crotus) indeed confirm a return to the traditional forms of satyr drama. One element in Dioscorides’ epigram is of particular significance, namely the poet’s notion of the existence of a ‘pure’ form of satyr drama and the need to restore it. This is proof that in the Alexandrian period there was an awareness of the changes that had occurred and that some, such as Dioscorides, were not satisfied with how drama had recently evolved. Thus Sositheus’ Daphnis or Lityerses is perhaps seen as a play most ideally suited to the principles of the Classical satyr play. This is on account of elements such as where the play is set and the main characters: the ogre Lityerses, the noble Daphnis and the saviour Heracles. Even if we assume, as some scholars do, that the play was actually a tragedy, it still has enough satyr play elements to border on this genre and to resemble the Classical model. Much the same can be said about Sositheus’ play concerning Crotus. While we cannot be certain that this was a satyr play, the mountain forest setting, the wild character of Crotus and the aition of clapping hands all give the play a very specific character – typical for a satyr play. Consequently we have two examples of very traditional renditions of satyr drama, both written by Sositheus. The papyrus fragment of the Atlas play could also be considered traditional128. The characters of Atlas (the giant strongman) and Heracles are typical personae of the genre, as is the setting on the western edge of the world, near the paradisiacal garden of the Hesperides. Of course the whole drama could be considered traditional were it not for the distinctly Hellenistic game played on the recipient by removing from the entire text the letter ‘s’. Some information on satyr drama in the Hellenistic period can also be derived from inscriptions. We know from them the names of several authors and several satyr play titles. We know, for instance, that the satyr plays Thytes by Theodorus, Protesilaus by Harmodius and Palamedes by Theodotus were staged in Magnesia on the Meander sometime between 150 and 100 bc. Unfortunately, nothing more can be said about these plays. One of the most profound changes in the staging of satyr dramas was its separation from the tragic trilogy. This had already happened in the fourth century bc. Concrete evidence of it is found in the inscriptions listing the names of dramatists and explicitly naming some the authors of satyr plays (e.g. Heraclides and Callippus on Amphiaraia and Rhomaia in Oropos – IG VII 416 and 419). Thus on various holidays separate contests were held for this genre. We do not know how many authors would compete in one such contest, but most probably the number was three (an author who came See p. 189ff.

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second was once recorded and this fact would not have been noted if he came last). So how can one explain this separation? We do not know if Agen was staged individually, i.e. the performance was not preceded by a tragedy. Since the play was a specific hybrid of satyr drama and Old Comedy, perhaps matching it with a tragedy no longer seemed necessary. However, it is even more likely that it was intended as a completely individual play on account of the extraordinary circumstances of its presentation (most of the audience were soldiers) and its specific political purpose. We do not know whether the satyr plays of Lycophron and Sositheus were parts of tetralogies. The testimonia are silent with regard to the staging of plays by Pleiad members. We can assume that during the whole Hellenistic period satyr plays had not been part of tragic tetralogies as this had already come into practice in the fourth century. Very interesting evidence regarding the staging of satyr plays is provided by inscriptions stating the victors of drama agones in cities such as Oropos, Magnesia on the Menander, Samos or Thespiae. We know the names of some of the victors from Oropos, such as the aforementioned Heraclides the Athenian (IG VII 416), Callippus of Thebes (IG VII 419) and Philoxenides of Oropos (IG VII 420). Unfortunately, the author of the inscription did not record the titles of the plays. Most often the names of the victors in satyr play agones are not the same as those who had won tragic agones. Nevertheless, there are cases of the same person winning in both dramatic categories. Such is the case of Polemaius of Ephesus, as well of Theodorus son of Dionysius, who according to inscription I Magn 88a won at Magnesia on the Menander as the author of a tragedy entitled Hermione and of a satyr play entitled Thytes129. However, most interestingly of all from our point of view is the phrasing that appears in the two above-mentioned inscriptions from Magnesia. They refer to the victors of tragic and satyr agones as τῶν Ῥωμαίων ποιηταὶ καινῶν δραμάτων. Does this suggest that Classical satyr plays were regularly restaged in the same way as Classical tragedies most certainly were? Use of the term New Dramas seems deliberate, and if so, it unequivocally suggests that old satyr plays were also staged. Extant inscriptions are unfortunately insufficient as a historical source to allow us to study the history of post-Classical satyr drama. Similarly, there is very limited information that can be derived from archaeological finds. The most popular decorative motif associated with satyr drama in the Hellenistic period is Papposilenos. His image appears in vase paintings, reliefs, figurines, terracotta masks and mosaics, as well as frescos in Pompeii. In a sense this popularity is obvious. After all, Papposilenos was the most distinctive character in this genre, and without doubt the moving spirit in every satyr play. Studying individual finds may at best tell us something about the costumes worn by actors and what Papposilenos masks looked like. On the stage he was invariably portrayed as a corpulent old man with a curly beard and chaotically arranged locks of hair. The thick beard contrasts with his balding head, while his animal ears are supposed to remind us of his original form. He is sometimes also portrayed as having a very hairy torso, legs and arms, for instance in the figurine from the Louvre (CA 942). Alas, neither the images of Papposilenos, nor those of the satyrs tell us anything about satyr drama in post-Classical times other than perhaps the fact that they were extremely popular and very much alive in the Hellenistic period. See pp. 171f.

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The Tragic Pleiad ANCIENT TESTIMONIA T1 Suda s.v.1 1. ᾿Αλέξανδρος Αἰτωλός· […] ὡς καὶ τῶν ἑπτὰ τραγικῶν ἕνα κριθῆναι, οἵπερ ἐπεκλήθησαν ἡ Πλειάς. 2. Διονυσιάδης, […] ἦν δὲ οὗτος τῶν τῆς Πλειάδος, 3. Λυκόφρων, […] ἔστι γοῦν εἷς τῶν ἑπτὰ οἵτινες Πλειὰς ὠνομάσθησαν. 4. ῞Ομηρος: ᾿Ανδρομάχου καὶ Μυροῦς Βυζαντίας, […] διὸ συνηριθμήθη τοῖς ἑπτά, οἳ τὰ δευτερεῖα τῶν τραγικῶν ἔχουσι καὶ ἐκλήθησαν τῆς Πλειάδος. 5. Σωσίθεος, […] τῶν τῆς Πλειάδος εἷς 6. Σωσιφάνης, […] ἔστι δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἐκ τῶν ζ′ τραγικῶν, οἵτινες ὠνομάσθησαν Πλειάς. Φιλίσκος, […] ἔστι δὲ τῆς δευτέρας τάξεως τῶν τραγικῶν, οἵτινές εἰσιν ζ′ καὶ ἐκλήθησαν Πλείας.

As well as: Τραγικώτερος: […] ὅτι οἱ ἑπτὰ τραγικοὶ Πλειὰς ἐπεκλήθησαν. Σοφοκλῆς, ᾿Αθηναῖος, […] γέγονε δὲ μετὰ τὴν Πλειάδα, ἤτοι μετὰ τοὺς ζ′ τραγικοὺς οἵτινες ὠνομάσθησαν καὶ Πλειάς.

T2 Σ A in Heph. p. 140 Consbr. ἑπτὰ γὰρ ἐλέγοντο εἶναι τραγῳδοί· διὸ καὶ πλεοὰς ὠνομάσθησαν. ὧν εἷς ἐστιν οὗτος ὁ Φίλικος· ἐπὶ Πτολεμαίου δὲ γεγόνασιν ἄριστοι τραγικοί· εἰσὶ δὲ οὗτοι· Ὅμηρος νεώτερος, Σωσίθεος, Λυκόφρων, Ὰλεξανδρος, Φιλίκος, Διονυσιάδης. Translations of testimonies in the Suda are presented next to the names of particular authors.

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It was said that there were seven tragedians and that is why they were called the Pleiad. One of them was the famous Philicus. These best tragedians lived under the reign of Ptolemy; they were: Homer the Younger, Sositheus, Lycophron, Alexander, Philicus and Dionysiades.

T3 Σ B in Heph. p. 279 Consbr. ἐπὶ τῶν χρόνων Πτολεμαίου τοῦ Φιλαδέλφου ἑπτὰ ἄριστοι γεγόνασι τραγικοί. Οὓς Πλειάδας ἐκάλεσαν διὰ τὸ λαμπρούς εἶναι ἐν τῆι τραγικῆι ὥσπερ ἄστρα τὰ ἐν τῆι Πλειάδι. Εἰσὶ δὲ οὗτοι· Ὅμηρος (οὐχ ὁ ποιητής, ἀλλ’ υἱὸς ὁ Μυρου ς της Βυζαντίας ποιητρίδος), καὶ Σωσίθεος, Λυκόφρων καὶ Ἀλέξανδρος καὶ Αἰαντιάδης καὶ Σωσιφάνης καὶ Φιλίσκος. In the times of Ptolemy Philadelphus there were seven outstanding tragedians, whom they called the Pleiad, for they shone brightly in the field of tragic poetry like stars in the Pleiad. These were: Homer (not the Poet, but the son of the poetess Myro of Byzantium), Sositheus, Lycophron, Alexander, Aeantiades, Sosiphanes and Philiscus.

T4 Choerob. in Heph. pp. 236. 4–14 Consbr. Φίλικος δὲ ὁ Κερκυραῖος εἷς ὢν τῆς Πλειάδος· καὶ τὰ ἑξῆς. —Ἰστέον ὅτι ἐπὶ τῶν χρόνων Πτολεμαίου τοῦ Φιλαδέλφου ἑπτὰ ἄριστοι γεγόνασι τραγικοί, οὓς Πλειάδα ἐκάλεσαν διὰ τὸ λαμπροὺς εἶναι ἐν τῇ τραγικῇ ὡς τὰ ἄστρα τῆς Πλειάδος. εἰσὶ δὲ οὗτοι· Ὅμηρος, οὐχ ὁ ποιητής (περὶ τραγικῶν γὰρ ὁ λόγος), ἀλλ’ ὁ Μυροῦς τῆς ποιητρίας υἱὸς τῆς Βυζαντίας, καὶ Σωσίθεος καὶ Λυκόφρων καὶ Ἀλέξανδρος,Αἰαντιάδης, Σωσιφάνης καὶ οὗτος ὁ Φίλικος. τινὲς ἀντὶ τοῦ Αἰαντιάδου καὶ Σωσιφάνους Διονυσιάδην καὶ Εὐφρόνιον τῇ Πλειάδι συντάττουσιν. Philicus of Corcyra, one of the Pleiad and so on. One has to know that in the times of Ptolemy Philadelphus there were the seven best tragedians who were called the Pleiad, because they shone in the poetry of tragedy as the Pleiad stars shone: Homerus, not the poet (for here we speak of tragedians) but the son of the poetess Myro of Byzantium, Sositheus, Lycophron, Alexander, Aeantiades, Sosiphanes and the said Philicus. Some, instead of Aeantiades and Sosiphanes, include Dionysiades and Euphronius to the Pleiad.

T5 Tz. ad Lyc. p. 4 Scheer Λυκόφρων […] εἷς δὲ ἦν τῶν ἑπτὰ ποιητῶν, οἵτινες διὰ τὸ εἶναι ἑπτὰ τῆς Πλειάδος ἐλέγοντο· ὧν τὰ ὀνόματα Θεόκριτος ὁ τὰ βουκολικὰ γράψας, Ἄρατος ὁ τὰ Φαινόμενα γράψας καὶ ἕτερα, Νίκανδρος Αἰαντίδης ἢ Ἀπολλώνιος ὁ τὰ Ἀργοναυτικά, Φίλικος, Ὅμηρος ὁ νέος τραγικός […] ὁ Ἀνδρομάχου Βυζάντιος,



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ὃς δράματα ἐποίησεν νζʹ, καὶ οὗτος ὁ Λυκόφρων κἂν ἕτεροι μὴ εἰδότες ἄλλους φασὶν εἶναι τῆς Πλειάδος. ἦσαν δὲ οὗτοι ἐν χρόνοις Πτολεμαίου τοῦ Φιλαδέλφου καὶ Βερενίκης, οἳ παῖδες ἦσαν ἀμφότεροι Πτολεμαίου τοῦ Λαγωοῦ καὶ Βερενίκης τῆς Ἀντιγόνου θυγατρός. Lycophron, one of the seven poets who, on account of their number, were called the Pleiad. Theocritus, who wrote bucolics, Aratus, who wrote Phaenomena and other poems, Nicander, Aeantides or Apollonius, the author of Argonautica, Philicus, Homerus the young tragedian and son of Andromachus of Byzantium, who wrote 57 plays, as well as the said Lycophron, although others, not knowing [the matter] state that others belong to the Pleiad. They lived in the times of Ptolemy Philadelphus and Berenice, both the children of Ptolemy the son of Lagus and Berenice the daughter of Antigonos.2

The enthusiasm of Alexandrian scholars for creating catalogues of people and things considered the best and the greatest gave birth to the concept of the Tragic Pleiad. The Pleiades, the name of the seven bright stars in the Taurus constellation, was how they described the seven most outstanding tragedians of the Hellenistic period. They came ‘second’ only after the three great tragedians: Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides. Extant sources, however, fail to provide us with a single canon of the seven poets of the Tragic Pleiad. All the testimonia name Homerus of Byzantium, Philiscus of Corcyra and Lycophron. To these three we may confidently add Sositheus and Alexander Aetolus, whose membership of the Pleiad is confirmed in the Suda as well as in three versions of scholia to Hephaestion. As Table 2 shows, the names of the remaining poets differ, depending on the list. These include: Sosiphanes, Dionysiades and Aeantiades, as well as Euphronius, who is mentioned only once. The presence of Theocritus, Nicander, Aratus and Apollonius of Rhodes in John Tzetzes’ list is difficult to explain. Perhaps he recalled from memory a list of outstanding third–century bc poets who were not necessarily tragedians. It is equally probable that two lists, one of tragedians and another of lyric poets, were muddled up and Tzetzes inadvertently copied the latter.3 One of the first modern scholars to successfully try and establish the original Alexandrian Pleiad list of poets was W. Steffen.4 He rightly notes that with regard to Homerus of Byzantium, Lycophron, Philiscus, Sositheus and Alexander Aetolus we can be certain they were included among the seven famous tragedians from the start. Following on from F. Jacoby, he also casts aside doubts regarding Sosiphanes’ place on this list by arguing that there was an older and a younger Sosiphanes and it was the younger one who belonged to the Tragic Pleiad. The seventh poet, according

Here Tzetzes confuses particular members of the Ptolemaic dynasty: the wife of Ptolemy Philadelphus was Arsinoe, not Berenice. Perhaps Tzetzes had in mind Ptolemy Philadelphus’ daughter-in-law Berenice II (known from Callimachus’ Lock of Berenice). On the other hand, Berenice the wife of Ptolemy I was herself the daughter of Magas and his wife Antigone, not Antigonos. 3 See Schramm (1929), p. 4. 4 Steffen (1939). 2

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Table 2.  Catalogues mentioning the Pleiad poets. (The numbers in brackets indicate the order in which the poet appears in the scholia) Suda

Σ A in Heph.

Σ B in Heph.

Choeroboscus J. Tzetzes in Heph.

Homerus Lycophron Philiscus Sositheus Alexander Sosiphanes

Homerus (1) Lycophron (3) Philicus (5) Sositheus (2) Alexander

Homerus (1) Lycophron (3) Philiscus (7) Sositheus (2) Alexander Sosiphanes

Dionysiades

Dionysiades (6) Aeantiades (5)

Homerus (1) Lycophron (3) Philicus (7) Sositheus (2) Alexander Sosiphanes or Euphronius (6) Aeantiades or Dionysiades (5)

Homerus (6) Lycophron (7) Philicus (5) Theocritus (1) Nicander (3) Aratus (2) Aeantides or Apollonius (4)

to Steffen, was Dionysiades, while the name of Aeantiades appeared on the list by accident.5 It is hard to say when the first list of the greatest tragedians of the age was compiled. We can be confident that it was not before the end of the third century bc, for it was basically a posthumous, commemorative list. We also do not know the exact reasons why these particular poets were listed rather than others. On the basis of extant testimonia, only five tragedians can be included in the canon. It is possible that by the end of the Hellenistic period there already existed several lists of greatest poets which subsequently became a historical source for later scholiasts. Strabo, who lived at the turn of the first century bc, uses the term ‘Pleiad’ in Book XIV of his Geographica (5, 15), as if the term was universally known.6 This is therefore the terminus ante quem for the creation of the Pleiad list of tragedians. When analysing what was written in antiquity about the Pleiad poets, one is compelled to ask some basic questions. First, what did the members of this tragic constellation have in common? In the case of the other list of tragedians (i.e. the great three, Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides), the answer is obvious. These were the most famous dramatists of their day and each was recognized as the best in his lifetime. Here it was not so much the number of victories, but rather their contributions to developing the genre and the genuine recognition they had among their contemporaries. Moreover, all three tragedians were from Athens and their work was associated with that city. The situation was quite different in the case of the Tragic Pleiad poets, who came from various Greek towns, and not all of them were active in Athens. So little is known about their plays that we are not even able to ascertain whether they introduced any important innovations to drama or, conversely, played an important role in standardizing and consolidating conventions. However, one thing Steffen (1939), p. 24. Individual poets of the Tragic Pleiad will be discussed in greater detail later in this book. 6 Of the same opinion is Stoessl (1951), pp. 191–2. 5



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they all undoubtedly had in common was the time of their activity: the first quarter of the third century bc. Therefore they were all more or less of the same generation. The second question one is compelled to ask concerns the association of these particular poets with King Ptolemy II Philadelphus. After only a cursory examination of the testimonia, the association between the monarch and the famous seven becomes very apparent. The simplest explanation would be that, for the Alexandrian scholars compiling the Pleiad list, a monarch’s reign was the most natural definition of a period. But could there also be a more specific reason? We know that at least three of the Pleiad poets were definitely active in Alexandria, namely: Lycophron, Alexander Aetolus and Philiscus. Is it possible that at some stage in their lives the remaining tragedians also visited the land of the Lagids? Was that royal patron of scholars and artists also the benefactor of Sositheus, Sosiphanes, Homerus and Dionysiades? Perhaps the royal court commissioned plays from these tragedians for the Great Theatre in Alexandria, or perhaps the king simply had copies of their plays deposited in the Great Library, which was where the scholars compiling the list later found them. For obvious reasons, such questions remain unanswered, but one may at least presume that the patronage of Ptolemy II Philadelphus could have easily been extended to ‘non-Alexandrian’ tragedians. Another intriguing question is whether the seven tragedians maintained professional contact with one another. Did they know each other? Again, here there can be no doubt that Alexander Aetolus and Lycophron, both of whom worked in the Great Library, as well as Philiscus, who was a Dionysian priest in Alexandria, all knew each other and most probably met more than once, if only on account of their respective occupations. Moreover Alexander Aetolus and Homerus of Byzantium collaborated with the philosopher Timon of Phlius in the writing of tragedies, and even if they may not have actually met in person, they would have at least exchanged correspondence regarding this subject.7 But as far as the remaining members of the Pleiad are concerned, the lack of information regarding their lives greatly hinders the possibility of ascertaining whether or not they knew of each other or each other’s work. However, when we take into account the realities of the Hellenistic world, including the flourishing commercial and cultural contacts between its various centres, we may reasonably assume that even if they had never met personally, it is more than likely that the Pleiad tragedians at least knew of each other’s work. Finally, perhaps the most important thing that all the Pleiad tragedians had in common was the fact that they must have been educated people who knew the formal principles of writing dramas. They must all have known the tragedies of the Classical period, and that must have influenced their own work. To be appreciated by contemporary scholars, Alexandrian literary works were supposed to be learned and ‘pure’ in the terms of technique, style and metre; only finely crafted compositions were noteworthy. We know very little about the work of the Pleiad tragedians, but appreciation of the genre, reflected in the fact that these poets’ names were included among the great seven, could have had something to do with the formal perfection of their playwriting style. Their fame among contemporaries was not great, since they are The nature of this collaboration between the two tragedians is discussed on pp. 123f.

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relatively rarely mentioned in ancient sources, but perhaps in the Great Library their works were eventually appreciated and deemed great by the compilers of the Pleiad list. In other words, perhaps it took scholars to appreciate other scholars. Yet in order to understand the phenomenon of the Tragic Pleiad, we should first examine each of the tragedians individually by analysing the ancient testimonia that concern them and, if possible, the extant fragments of their plays.

Sosiphanes (TrGF 103) ANCIENT TESTIMONIA T1 TrGF 92 T 1 Suda s.v. Σωσιφάνης, Σωσικλέους, Συρακούσιος, τραγικός. ἐδίδαξε δράματα ογ′, ἐνίκησε δὲ ζ′. ἔστι δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἐκ τῶν ζ′ τραγικῶν, οἵτινες ὠνομάσθησαν Πλειάς. ἐγένετο δὲ ἐπὶ τῶν τελευταίων χρόνων Φιλίππου, οἱ δὲ ᾿Αλεξάνδρου τοῦ Μακεδόνος. τελευτᾷ δὲ ρια′ ὀλυμπιάδι, οἱ δὲ ριδ′· οἱ δὲ ἀκμάσαι αὐτὸν γράφουσι. Sosiphanes, son of Sosicles, Syracusan, tragedian. He produced 73 dramas, won with seven and is one of the seven tragedians called the Pleiad. He was born in the final years of the reign of Philip, though others say under Alexander the Macedonian. He died in the years of the 111th Olympiad, though some say it was during the 114th Olympiad, while others say that this was the time when he reached his peak.

T2 TrGF 92 T 2 Marm. Par. B 15 (116) – 313/312 bc: ἀφ’ οὗ Σωσιφάνης ποιητὴς τελευτᾶι, ἔτη ΔΔΔΔΠΙΙΙΙ, ἄρχοντος [Ἀθήνη]σιν [Θ]εο[φρ]άστου, [β]ι[οὺς ἔτη Δ]ΔΔΔΠ. 49 years after the death of the poet Sosiphanes … (when the archon of Athens was Theophrastus), he had lived 45 years.

[TrGF 103 T 1] Marm. Par. B 22 (123) – 306/305 bc: ἀφ’ οὗ Σωσιφάνης ὁ ποιητὴς [ἐ]γ[ένετο καὶ …] [ἔτη ΔΔΔΔΙΙ, ἄρχοντος Ἀθήνη]σ[ι Κ]οροίβου. 42 years after the birth of the poet Sosiphanes … (when the archon of Athens was Coroebus)

T3 TrGF 92 T 3 Ath. 10. 453 A



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καὶ [ὁ] Σωσιφάνης ὁ ποιητὴς εἰς Κηφισοκλέα τὸν ὑποκριτὴν εἶπεν λοιδορῶν αὐτὸν ὡς εὐρύστομον· ‘ἐνέβαλον γὰρ ἄν σου, φησίν, εἰς τὰ ἰσχία λίθον, εἰ μὴ καταρραίνειν ἔμελλον τοὺς περιεστηκότας.’ The poet Sosiphanes said to the actor Cephisocles, accusing him of being a big-mouth: ‘I’d throw,’ he says, ‘a stone at your hips, but I’d be afraid you’d splash the people standing around you.’8

It is difficult to establish when the tragedian actually lived, as the Suda entry poses certain problems. It is at least partially wrong because it includes contradictory information. We therefore have three interpretations, depending on which sentences we believe to be true: 1. τελευτᾷ δὲ ρια′ ὀλυμπιάδι, οἱ δὲ ριδ′·

Sosiphanes died sometime between 336 and 332 bc (the years of the 111th Olympiad) or between 324 and 320 (the years of the 114th Olympiad). Such dating would force us to include this tragedian among the fourth-century playwrights and for the same reason exclude him from the Pleiad. Yet this interpretation seems unlikely exactly because it is not compatible with the firm tradition of including Sosiphanes as one of the famous ‘Seven’. He is recognized as a member of the Pleiad in the Suda, Scholia B to Hephaestion and in Choeroboscus. Therefore H. F. Clinton might be right to suggest that in the text the numbers ρια′ and ριδ′ should be replaced by ρκα′ and ρκδ′.9 Such a mistake regarding numbers could be made if the entry’s author or copyist was thinking of the deaths of Philip and Alexander, whose names appear just before the numbers of the Olympiads. Accepting this conjecture would be justified if we assume that the poet died young, aged approximately 40. It is possible, too, that the confusion arose when the text with the old numerical system was written down with the new alphabetical one.10 2. τελευτᾷ δὲ ρια′ ὀλυμπιάδι, οἱ δὲ ριδ′· οἱ δὲ ἀκμάσαι αὐτὸν γράφουσι

Sosiphanes apparently flourished in the years of the 111th or 114th Olympiad. In such a case we would again, for chronological reasons, be unable to include him among the Pleiad poets. Such dating would make him a contemporary of Python. Ultimately he could be regarded as a precursor of Hellenistic drama, and perhaps for this reason included in the Pleiad lists. 3. ἐγένετο δὲ ἐπὶ τῶν τελευταίων χρόνων Φιλίππου, οἱ δὲ ᾿Αλεξάνδρου τοῦ Μακεδόνος.

Sosiphanes was born in the years 336–332 or 324–320. If we accept this last and most likely version, the poet’s inclusion in the Pleiad is chronologically justified as his years of activity would have been at the start of the third century bc. Nevertheless, even This was at the same time an allusion to Cephisocles’ homosexuality. Clinton (1830), p. 5. He is of the opinion that Sosiphanes was born in the reign of Philip II or Alexander (between 340 and 330 bc) and was therefore a contemporary of the Pleiad. 10 These would be acrophonic numerals, which were replaced by alphabetic numerals most probably at the turn of the third century bc. 8 9

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in this case the Suda would be very imprecise. This is because we should consider the cultural revolution that followed in the wake of Alexander the Macedonian’s conquests, and it is not without meaning to ask whether Sosiphanes was already active at the time of these great changes or whether he was still growing up during the Diadochi wars. The most satisfactory interpretation of the Suda entry would be to combine two philological conjectures, though from the scholarly point of view that would be very risky. For example, if like G. Bernhard11 we change the order of the verbs τελευτᾷ and ἀκμάσαι and accept Clinton’s correction (i.e. replace ρια′ and ριδ′ with ρκα′ and ρκδ′), we acquire an entry that is logical and consistent with tradition. In this case the poet would have reached his acme (floruit) in the years 296–292 bc and he would have died c. 284–280 bc. The so-called Parian Marble chronicle provides us with new interpretational possibilities, yet here too we have some contradictory information. B 15 states that a poet called Sosiphanes died in 313/312 bc, having lived for 45 years. B 22, on the other hand, states that another poet called Sosiphanes was born in 306/305 bc. J. A. R. Munro12 suggested that only the B 15 entry refers to Sosiphanes, whereas the B 22 entry repeats the name by mistake because the second poet’s real name was Sositheus. This correction was accepted by A. Rostagni and K. J. Beloch,13 but flatly rejected by F. Schramm,14 chiefly because the Marmor Parium mentions no other Pleiad poet and also because the information in the two entries is so different (regarding the names of archons and dates). A mistake seems highly unlikely when the two entries provide such precise facts. F. Schramm and later scholars were more inclined to accept the interpretation provided by F. Jacoby in 1878.15 According to Jacoby, there were two poets of the same name; one was active in the years 357/356 –313/312 bc, whereas the younger Sosiphanes was born in 306/305 bc as the son of Sosicles and may have been the grandson of the first Sosiphanes. The older Sosiphanes presented his dramas in Athens, whereas the younger Sosiphanes produced dramas in Alexandria and was considered to be one of the Pleiad tragedians. If this theory is correct, we face another problem: which of the two was the author of the extant drama fragments? It seems that opinions on this subject among scholars were dictated by the periods they happened to be interested in. If they were interested in the Hellenistic, they attributed the fragments to the Pleiad poet, and if they were more interested in the earlier period, they believed the author to be the fourth-century poet. B. Snell and R. Kannicht attribute all the known fragments to the older Sosiphanes. The existence of two ancient poets of the same name seems highly probable. It would certainly help explain the contradictory information in the Suda book as well as in the Parian Chronicle. Yet it still seems curious that none of the ancient authors mentions the fact that there were two poets by the name of Sosiphanes. Normally, 13 14 15 11 12

In the 1853 edition of Suda. Munro (1901), p. 361. Rostagni (1916), p. 343; Beloch (1927), pp. 565–6. Schramm (1929), p. 9. Jacoby (1903), p. 459.



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ancient encyclopaedists and lexicographers willingly pointed to such coincidences and family connections, as was evident in the case of Sophocles, whose descendant and namesake was also a tragedian. Obviously one Sosiphanes could hardly have been equally famous as the other, for had it been otherwise, knowledge of such a remarkable fact would have reached us. Nevertheless, the strong tradition of including Sosiphanes in the Alexandrian Pleiad suggests that the younger tragedian was a well-known and recognized artist. If so, it is more likely that the surviving drama fragments were authored by the Pleiad poet rather than his older namesake. If we assume the existence of two tragedians by the name of Sosiphanes, we also have to decide which of the two was Sosiphanes the Syracusan. Snell indeed treats the place of origin as the distinguishing factor between the two poets. But if we accept Jacoby’s theory of the two being related, we may also assume that the Pleiad member was, like his grandfather, called Συρακούσιος. In Hellenistic Egypt people were described as being of a certain polis even several generations after their forebears had left that particular polis, as this was to some extent an extra form of identification in addition to the patronymic. Thus Sosiphanes the Younger, the son of Sosicles, had he been born anywhere – for instance, in Alexandria – could on account of the origins of one of his forebears be called the Syracusan. Naturally, we should always remember that we are dealing with an accumulation of theories. The theory of there being two Sosiphanes seems justified, but so too does the possibility of a double correction being made in the Suda testimony, one that points to only one Sosiphanes, the tragedian who was active in the years 296–293. The Marmor Parium, however, unequivocally states that there were two tragedians and that the younger of the two was still alive when the inscription was being made (thus the rare phrase [ἐ]γ[ένετο, meaning ‘he was born’).16 Whichever theory we take to be true, the fact remains that there was a member of the Pleiad called Sosiphanes and – contrary to the current academic trend – it is to him that the extant drama fragments should be attributed. It is also in reference to this Sosiphanes that we should regard Athenaeus’ anecdote (T3) about the cutting remark a poet of that name made to the famous actor Cephisocles. Of course this sketch from the Deipnosophistae tells us nothing about the poet Sosiphanes’ work, but it does suggest that he had a sense of humour and a sharp tongue. We know that he produced 73 tragedies and that with seven of these he won drama competitions.

Meleager F1 Σ A.R. 3, 533b Σωσιφάνης ἐν Μελεάγρῳ· Sosiphanes in Meleager: Apart from Sosiphanes, the only other recorded births were that of Euripides (because it coincided with Aeschylus’ first victory) and that of Ptolemy Philadelphus, who, like Sosiphanes, was still alive when the Marmor Parium was being inscribed, i.e. in 264–263 bc.

16

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Hellenistic Tragedy ‘μάγοις ἐπῳδαῖς πᾶσα Θεσσαλὶς κόρη ψευδὴς σελήνης αἰθέρος καταιβάτις.’ Every Thessalian girl with magic spells Charms the moon down from the sky.

Of all the dramas written by Sosiphanes, Meleager is the only known title. Apart from the story of eponymous protagonist, little else can be said about the play. The oldest epic version of the myth,17 i.e. Phoenix’s speech to the enraged Achilles (Il. 9, 527–57), presents Meleager as the son of Oeneus and Althaea. During a war between the Aetolians and Curetes, his heroic deeds tipped the balance in favour of the Aetolians. Yet when he killed his mothers’ brothers and she cast a spell on him, Meleager became so enraged that he withdrew from the fighting and remained at home with his wife, Cleopatra. Even in the face of defeat, he was unmoved by the pleas of his father, mother and friends. Finally, it was only his wife who managed to persuade him and at the very last moment Calydon was saved. Homer does not explain the reasons for the war between the Aetolians and Curetes, clearly assuming that that was something his listeners already knew. In the fifth century bc Bacchylides provides a different version of this myth (Epinikion 5): angered at Oeneus for forgetting to offer her sacrifices, Artemis sent a boar to ravage Calydon. The hunt for the beast lasted six days. However, once the boar was killed, Meleager got involved in a conflict with the Curetes, during which he inadvertently slew his uncles, Iphiclus and Aphares. His mother remembered a prediction that Meleager would only live as long as a brand indicated by the Moirae was not consumed by fire; she put this brand into the fire. Thus Meleager perished, pulling the armour off his enemy and being quite unaware of the reason for his death. Together with the Homeric version, Apollodorus recounts a more elaborate tale, in which there is already an assumption that Meleager’s father was actually Ares (1. 65). The hunting theme is also more detailed and includes among the hunters the huntress Atalanta, with whom Meleager, though married to Cleopatra, wishes to have a child. The conflict between Meleager and his uncles erupts because after killing the boar he gives the chief prize, the hide, to Atalanta. Learning of Meleager’s crime, his mother puts the brand into the fire and commits suicide by hanging. Cleopatra also commits suicide. However, the most elaborate version is recounted by Ovid.18 The Roman poet focuses on events that occur during the hunt as well as on the emotions that Meleager experiences internally and is forced to struggle with. Moreover, in Metamorphoses both Meleager’s parents commit suicide, while his sisters (with the exception of Gorgo and Deianira) in their despair are turned into guinea fowls. The Meleager myth already appears in Aeschylus’ The Suppliants.19 The chorus reminds us of the crime committed by Althaea against her own son. Aeschylus makes use of the brand theme. Extant fragments of the tragedy Meleager by Sophocles (TrGF 401–406) are too insufficient for us to establish which version of the myth On the tragedies based on the myth, see: Grossardt (2001), pp. 76–104; van der Kolf (1931), pp. 446–78. On the critical dabate on the authenticity of the epic passage, see: Noé (1940), p. 34; Page (1959), pp. 297–315; Kirk (1962), p. 217; Rosner (1976), pp. 314–27. 18 Met. 8. 260–546. 19 Ch. pp. 602ff. 17



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this playwright chose to display. But surely Sophocles included the Calydonian hunt theme in his Meleager. The version presented by Euripides in his Meleager20 most probably had the greatest influence on the development and propagation of this myth. As many as 25 fragments of his Meleager have survived, but it is difficult to draw any general conclusions about the play because it is mostly reconstructed on the base of Apollodorus (1.64–73). It is very probable that Ovid’s version was the closest to Euripides’ play. Ovid’s account is the richest with respect to the plot. It includes a clear sense of guilt in Meleager’s desire for Atalanta, the mother’s internal conflict (the duty to avenge her brothers versus the love she feels for her son), the tragic deaths of Meleager, Althaea, Cleopatra and Oeneus, as well as the sad fate of his sisters. It is also mainly thanks to Euripides that the Meleager myth became so popular on the stage. His version was most probably parodied by Theopompus.21 Other comic poets known to have produced plays using this theme included: Callias (Ἀταλάνται), Strattis (Ἀτάλαντος [-η, -αι ]), Philyllius (Ἀταλάντη), Euthycles (Ἀταλάντη), Philetaerus (Ἀταλάντη) and Alexis (Ἀταλάντη). After Euripides, Antiphon also took up Meleager as a tragic theme (TrGF 55 F 1b). In his Poetics,22 Aristotle states that the story of Meleager is one of the best presented in contemporary tragedy, and most probably he also had Antiphon’s Meleager in mind because he refers to this play on two more occasions in his writings.23 Sosiphanes must have known antecedent tragic versions of the Meleager tale. However, we do not know whether he adopted or modified any of these versions. As far as Sosiphanes’ own tragedy is concerned, we know virtually nothing. We cannot even say what the original context of the preserved fragment was. It refers to a well-known Thessalian witch topos of ancient Greek folklore without any discernible link to the Meleager myth. The only possible line of investigation is to examine the contexts in which this theme of such magic spells was used by other authors. The earliest known example in literature appears in Aristophanes’ Clouds (vv. 749–55), but there the use of magic is part of Strepsiades’ extraordinary plan to avoid incurring debt. Two subsequent works that mention Thessalian women pulling down the moon, Plato’s Gorgias (513a 5–6) and Hippocrates’ treaty (De Morbo Sacro 1.76–82), provide no reason for such magic being performed. It is only in a Hellenistic epic poem, the Argonautica by Apollonius of Rhodes (4. 57–61) that we discover the appropriate context of this magic being associated with love. It is also in this context that the magic is mentioned by Roman poets of the Augustan period who were influenced by Alexandrian tradition. Pulling down the moon is mentioned by the infatuated Simaetha in Virgil’s Eclogue VIII (vs. 69). The spell is also cast by the lustful Folia in Horace’s Epode V (vv. 41–6), as well as by the witch Canidia in Epode XVII (vv. 77–8). Ovid also frequently refers to this magic, and even if in The Art of Love (1, 23–6), as well as in his Love’s Remedy (vv. 250–60), the author doubts the effectiveness of On the play generally, see: Mette (1981–2), pp. 186–92; van Looy (1992); p. 284, Grossardt (2001), pp. 88–96. The play was probably staged circa 414 bc, see: Webster (1967), p. 163; Cropp and Fick (1985), pp. 84–5. 21 Mayer (1883), pp. 77–93; on the drama of Theopompus, see Grossardt (2001), p. 101. 22 Po. 1453a. 23 Rh. 1379b15 and 1399b26. 20

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bewitching the moon to retain the object of one’s amorous desires, he is clearly aware of the fact that these charms were performed for that very purpose. The erotic context of pulling down the moon is evident also in an anonymous epigram from the Greek Anthology (AP 11. 262). It is therefore not improbable that Sosiphanes also had the young Thessalian women drawing the moon down to Earth for the same reason, i.e. love magic.24 This may be confirmed by the fact that the particular fragment was found in scholia to Apollonius’ epos. The story of Meleager, who desires Atlanta and thus wrongs his wife, Cleopatra, could provide a reason as to why the playwright would wish to evoke the Thessalian spell.

Incertarum fabularum fragmenta F2 TrGF 92 F5, ΣTheoc. 18, 51 Μενελάου … καὶ ῾Ελένης … παῖδες … Νικόστρατος καὶ ᾿Ιόλαος, … (καὶ θυγατέρες Μελίτη καὶ ῾Ερμιόνη)25 Menelaus and Helen … sons … Nicostratus and Iolmos … and daughters Melite and Hermione

F3 TrGF 92 F7, ΣE. Andr. 32.10 ἐξ αὐτῆς (sc. ῾Ερμιόνης) Νεοπτολέμῳ ᾿Αγχίαλον γενέσθαι26 With her [i.e. Hermione] Neoptolemus fathered Anchialos.

These fragments found in scholia to Theocritus’ Epithalamium for Helen inform us that Sosiphanes had also written a play which mentioned Helen and Menelaus’ children. It is difficult to establish what the actual tragedy was about because the reference could have been merely incidental. Nonetheless, it is significant that Sosiphanes names Nicostratus and Iolmos27 as the children of the famous couple. While Nicostratus28 is mentioned as one of Menelaus’ children (sometimes said to have been borne by a slave woman), the name Iolmos is nowhere else to be found. It has to be stressed that this statement contradicts Homer’s version, where, after giving birth to the beautiful Hermione, the gods make Helen infertile.29 Therefore perhaps, in a typically

On erotic spells addressed to Selene and the connection between love, magic and the moon, see Faraone (1999), pp. 139–41, although he does not mention the drawing down of the moon. 25 ΣTheoc.18.51 Μενελάου δὲ καὶ ῾Ελένης ἀναγράφονται παῖδες Σωσιφάνης, Νικόστρατος καὶ ᾿Ιόλαος, οἱ δὲ Θρόνιον, καὶ θυγατέρες Μελίτη καὶ ῾Ερμιόνη. 26 ΣE.Andr.32.10 Σωσιφάνης δὲ καὶ ᾿Ασκληπιάδης φασὶν ἐξ αὐτῆς Νεοπτολέμῳ ᾿Αγχίαλον γενέσθαι. 27 The versions of this name is taken from codices UEA. In his edition C. Wendel (1914) amended it to Ἰόλαος, whereas earlier L. C. Valckenaer (1789) altered it to [Αἰθ]ιόλας, in accordance with the traditional pronunciation of the son’s name. 28 Hanslik (1936), pp. 540–1. 29 Od. IV 12–14. 24



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Hellenistic manner, Sosiphanes had selected an obscure, arcane version of the myth and for this reason the Scholiast cited it as a curiosity. F4 TrGF 92 F4 ΣE.Ph. 101030 ὑπὸ τοῦ Λαΐου … τεθνηκέναι τὸν Μενοικέα By Laius … Menoeceus was killed.

This quotation in scholia to Euripides’ The Phoenician Women informs us that Sosiphanes had written an otherwise unidentified tragedy based on the Labdacid myths. We do not know the exact subject of Sosiphanes’ drama, but the extant fragment indicates that the Labdacid family’s misfortune resulted from a crime committed by Oedipus’ forebears, i.e. the murder of Menoeceus, the father of Jocasta, by his son-in-law Laius.31 The scholiast notes that in Nicostratus’ play32 the killer is the Sphinx, so Sosiphanes had made a significant choice in the selection of mythical versions. F5 TrGF 92 F2 Stob. 3. 20. 18 Νῦν σοι πρὸς ὄψιν θυμὸς ἡβάτω, γέρον, νυνὶ † δεῖ γ’ ὀργήν, ἡνίκ’ ἠδικοῦ λαβεῖν. Now at the sight of this, old man, let your spirit be rejuvenated Now that you have been wronged, your anger must be awakened.

F6 TrGF 92 F3 Stob. 3. 22. 3 ῏Ω δυστυχεῖς μὲν πολλά, παῦρα δ’ ὄλβιοι βροτοί, τί σεμνύνεσθε ταῖς ἐξουσίαις, ἃς ἕν τ’ ἔδωκε φέγγος ἕν τ’ ἀφείλετο; ἢν δ’ εὐτυχῆτε, μηδὲν ὄντες εὐθέως ἴσ’ οὐρανῷ φρονεῖτε, τὸν δὲ κύριον ῞Αιδην παρεστῶτ’ οὐχ ὁρᾶτε πλησίον. ΣE.Ph. 1010: Σωσιφάνης ὁ τραγικὸς ὑπὸ τοῦ Λαΐου φησὶ τεθνηκέναι τὸν Μενοικέα· Νικόστρατος δὲ ὑπὸ τῆς Σφιγγός 31 See Robert (1915), pp. 493–94. 32 We do not know any tragedy author of that name. It is possible that the scholiast was thinking about the comedy writer Nicostratus, or, as C. Mueller suggested (see: Hecker (1850), p. 428; Robert (1915), p. 65), we should read here Nicomachus from Alexandria in Troas, one of the Hellenistic tragedy writers (see pp. 148ff.). 30

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O mortals, so unhappy, who rarely prosper, why do you boast of wealth, which one day is given and another day is taken away? When for you, who are nothing, fortune once smiles, your Pride reaches the heavens and you do not see standing Close beside you the ruler Hades.

Fragments 5 and 6 provide us with no indications as to the play they could have come from. Both were passed on to us by Stobaeus and, on account of the specific nature of his work, are deprived of their original context. Fragment 5 is part of a speech directed to a specific person in a specific situation, whereas fragment 6 is more of a philosophical reflection on the transience of human existence and wealth. But the messages in these texts in themselves do not allow us to determine the contexts in which they were conveyed. F7 TrGF 92 F6 Σ Hom Il. 9, 453 (ex. vel Porph.) τῇ πιθόμην : ᾿Αριστόδημος ὁ Νυσαιεύς, ῥήτωρ τε ἅμα καὶ γραμματικός, φεύγων τὸ ἔγκλημα, ἐπενόησε γράφειν „τῇ οὐ πιθόμην †οὐδὲ ἔρεξᆔ. καὶ οὐ μόνον γε ηὐδοκίμησεν, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐτιμήθη ὡς εὐσεβῆ τηρήσας τὸν ἥρωα. πρὸ δὲ αὐτοῦ Σωσιφάνης τὴν τοιαύτην εὗρε γραφήν. καὶ Εὐριπίδης δὲ ἀναμάρτητον εἰσάγει τὸν ἥρωα ἐν τῷ Φοίνικι. ταῦτα ἱστορεῖ ῾Αρποκρατίων ὁ Δίου διδάσκαλος ἐν ὑπομνήματι τῆς Ι. [to verse II. 9, 453]: ‘in obedience to her, I did’: Aristodemus of Nyssa, the orator and grammarian, wishing to avoid an accusation, decided to write ‘in disobedience to her, I did not do’. And not only did he appreciate this but even honoured him [in the text] as the reverent hero. Before him Sosiphanes had applied such an alteration. And Euripides introduces an innocent hero in Phoenix. Thus says Harpocration, the teacher of Dios, in Notes to the Iliad.

The above scholium does not actually state that Sosiphanes was the author of an unknown play that mentions the hero Phoenix. Instead it suggests that he wrote commentaries to the Iliad. However, the phasing πρὸ δὲ αὐτοῦ Σωσιφάνης τὴν τοιαύτην εὗρε γραφήν is sufficiently vague for us to suppose that Sosiphanes could have written a tragedy of this sort, all the more so because the text next mentions the tragedy Phoenix by Euripides. If we assume that Sosiphanes did write a tragedy about Phoenix, then he must have followed Euripides’ example. Phoenix was a son of Amyntor, the king of Ormenium near Mount Pelion in Thessaly, or of Eleum in Boeotia. In Homer’s poem Phoenix was persuaded by his mother to seduce Amyntor’s mistress. In response his enraged father gouged out both his eyes. The blinded hero later found refuge at Peleus’ house and had his eyesight restored by Chiron. According to the above scholium, Sosiphanes presented Phoenix as an unblemished hero who had in fact not seduced his father’s concubine. Unfortunately, it fails to provide



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sufficient information for us to make any other theories about the possible contents of this unknown play.

Homerus of Byzantium (TrGF 98) ANCIENT TESTIMONIA T1 TrGF 98 T1 Suda s.v. ῞Ομηρος: ᾿Ανδρομάχου καὶ Μυροῦς Βυζαντίας, γραμματικὸς καὶ τραγῳδιῶν ποιητής· διὸ συνηριθμήθη τοῖς ἑπτά, οἳ τὰ δευτερεῖα τῶν τραγικῶν ἔχουσι καὶ ἐκλήθησαν τῆς Πλειάδος. ἤκμαζεν ὀλυμπιάδι ρκδ′. ἔγραψε δὲ τραγῳδίας με′. Homerus, son of Andromachus and Myro of Byzantium, grammarian and tragic poet; hence he was counted as one of the seven who hold the second rank among the tragedians and were called the Pleiad. He reached his peak during the 124th Olympiad (284–280) and he wrote 45 tragedies.

T2 TrGF 98 T 2 Suda s.v. Myro Μυρώ, Βυζαντία, ποιήτρια ἐπῶν καὶ ἐλεγείων καὶ μελῶν, ῾Ομήρου τοῦ τραγικοῦ θυγάτηρ, γυνὴ δὲ ᾿Ανδρομάχου τοῦ ἐπικληθέντος φιλολόγου. Myro, a Byzantine, epic, elegiac and melic poetess. The daughter of the tragedian Homerus33 and the wife of Andromachus, called the philologist.

T3 TrGF 98 T 3 Suda s.v. Σωσίθεος, […] ἀνταγωνιστὴς ῾Ομήρου τοῦ τραγικοῦ τοῦ υἱοῦ Μυροῦς τῆς Βυζαντίας· Sositheus … Competed with Homerus the tragic poet, the son of Myro of Byzantium.

T4 TrGF 98 T 7 Tz. Chil. 12. (399), 202–3 εἴτε καὶ τὸν Βυζάντιον υἱὸν τοῦ Ἀνδρομάχου, τοῦ Ἀνδρομάχου καὶ Μυροῦς τῶν ποιητῶν τὸν παῖδα

Here there is obviously a mistake as Moiro/Myro was the mother, not the daughter of Homerus. This fact is confirmed in remaining Suda entries.

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Or the son of Andromachus, from Byzantium Child of the poets Andromachus and Myro.

T5 TrGF 98 T5 Christodorus AP 2 407–13 ῞Ιστατο δ’ ἄλλος ῞Ομηρος, ὃν οὐ πρόμον εὐεπιάων θέσκελον υἷα Μέλητος ἐυρρείοντος ὀίω, ἀλλ’ ὃν Θρηικίῃσι παρ’ ᾐόσι γείνατο μήτηρ Μοιρὼ κυδαλίμη Βυζαντιάς, ἣν ἔτι παιδνὴν ἔτρεφον εὐεπίης ἡρωίδος ἴδμονα Μοῦσαι· κεῖνος γὰρ τραγικῆς πινυτὴν ἠσκήσατο τέχνην, κοσμήσας ἐπέεσσιν ἑὴν Βυζαντίδα πάτρην. There too stood the other Homer, I think not the master of epic song, That extraordinary son of the beautifully flowing Meles, But the one whom on the Thracian shore his mother Moiro bore, The famous Byzantine. Already in childhood she was nurtured by the Muses Who made her fluent in heroic poetry. Whereas he practised the wise art of tragedy, Adorning his Byzantine motherland with poetry.

T6 TrGF 98 T 6 Tz. ad Lyc. p. 4, 30 Scheer ῞Ομηρος ὁ νέος τραγικός […] ὁ ᾿Ανδρομάχου Βυζάντιος, ὃς δράματα ἐποίησεν νζ′ Homer the Younger, tragedian, son of Andromachus, from Byzantium, wrote 57 plays.

T7 TrGF 98 T 9 Tz. Vita Hes. p. 49, 25 Wil. οὗτος ὁ νεώτερος ῞Ομηρος ἦν παῖς ᾿Ανδρομάχου, τῷ γένει Βυζάντιος, ὁ τὴν Εὐρυπύλειαν ποιήσας.34 The younger Homer was the child of Andromachus, of a Byzantine family, wrote Eurypyleia.

T8 TrGF 98 T 8 D.L. 9, 113

The codices also use the form: Εὐρυπυλίαν.

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φιλογράμματός τε καὶ τοῖς ποιηταῖς μύθους γράψαι ἱκανὸς καὶ δράματα συνδιατιθέναι. μετεδίδου δὲ τῶν τραγῳδιῶν ᾿Αλεξάνδρῳ καὶ ῾Ομήρῳ. [Timon of Phlius] a bibliophile who could write plots for poets and help them create dramas. He co-authored tragedies with Alexander and Homerus.

The name Homerus of Byzantium appears in all extant lists of the Tragic Pleiad.35 We know a little more about his life than those of other Pleiad members. He was the son of Andromachus, a grammarian, and the famous poetess Myro36 of Byzantium. Byzantium was also the place where he was raised, as is testified in Christodorus’ poem, and where, in F. Schramm’s opinion,37 he must have started his career. However, later he moved to Athens, for that was where he collaborated with the philosopher and tragedian Timon and also competed with Sositheus. He reached his acme during the 124th Olympiad, i.e. 284–280 bc. We also have an epigram written for Homerus’ wedding, written by his mother, Myro (AP 6, 119). An extraordinarily interesting testimony is provided by Diogenes Laertius, according to whom Timon of Phlius ‘wrote his tragedies together with Alexander [of Aetolia] and Homerus [of Byzantium]’ (D.L. 9, 113: μετεδίδου δὲ τῶν τραγῳδιῶν ᾿Αλεξάνδρῳ καὶ ῾Ομήρῳ). Would this mean that for a certain period of time they formed some sort of literary circle where they mutually reviewed each other’s work, or did Timon only give them his tragedies? W. Crönert38 doubts the veracity of this statement in its entirety. Nevertheless, they may have collaborated to write tragic trilogies, though, insofar as I know, there is no other evidence of such literary behaviour. And if they knew each other personally, where would Homerus and Timon have met? Was it still in Byzantium (for a time Timon ran a school of philosophy in Chalcedon),39 or was it in Athens, where both eventually ended up? Unfortunately, we have no means of answering this question. Information concerning Homerus’ literary activities is exceptionally scarce. The book of Suda states that he wrote 45 tragedies, while scholia on Lycophron say he authored 57 plays. According to R. J. Walker40 this discrepancy is due to the fact that the scholia included 12 satyr plays. The first list may have also included trilogies and tetralogies. Though highly plausible, such explanations are merely hypotheses, no more verifiable than other possible factors. However, there are a couple of facts to confirm that Homerus was once a well-known and valued tragedian. For a start, all the Pleiad lists mention his name.41 Second, and very significantly, his statue stood in the gymnasium of Zeuxippus in Constantinople, among the statues of other outstanding Diehl (1913), pp. 2247–8 The name sometimes appears as Μυρώ. However, on account of the value of Meleager’s testimony (AP IV 1, 5), F. Schramm prefers to use the Μοιρώ form. Also see: TrGF, p. 268. The alternate use of forms results from phonological changes that later occurred in the Greek language. 37 Schramm (1929), p. 16. 38 Crönert (1906), p. 30. 39 Wilamowitz-Moellendorff (1881), p. 501, believes Timon could have only written his tragedies during his stay in Byzantium. 40 Walker (1923), p. 254. 41 Walker’s theory (1923), p. 255, that according to the book of Suda Homerus was an eighth, additional member of the Pleiad was refuted by Schramm (1929), pp. 18–19, because συναριθμεῐν with dat. can leave no doubt that he was ‘included’ in the Pleiad. 35 36

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Greeks. Homerus’ statue could still be seen in the fourth century ad by the poet Christodorus, who recorded the fact in his ekphrasis (T5). But then again there is no information regarding the actual literary achievements of Homerus the Tragedian. The lack of even a single fragment of his plays prohibits us from formulating any theories. Only the title of one of his plays is known: Eurypyleia (T7). Unfortunately, Tzetzes does not state what type of play it was, and instead only writes: ὁ τὴν Εὐρυπύλειαν ποιήσας (who wrote Eurypyleia). This piece of information has been compared with Christodorus’ epigram (T5), which also refers to Homerus’ work. Yet here, on account of the poetic character of the epigram, we have to be very cautious. F. Schramm’s opinion that Eurypyleia was an epic poem glorifying Byzantium, and Gercke’s theory42 that it was an epyllion, seem unfounded. They based their conclusions on the expression ἐπέεσσιν, which frequently, though not always, refers to hexametric verse. There are other cases when this expression also described dramatic poetry.43 Looking at the context, i.e. the preceding verse, κεῖνος γὰρ τραγικῆς πινυτὴν ἠσκήσατο τέχνην (whereas he practised the wise art of tragedy), I am convinced that in this case we have a reference to dramatic poetry. Walker seems closer to the truth in suggesting that it could have been a tragic tetralogy. It is worth noting that Sophocles had already written a tragedy entitled Eurypylus and the subject had been used on the stage in the Classical period. Aristotle himself (Po. 1459b6) names Eurypylus as one of the tragedies that could be written on the basis of myths contained in the so-called Little Iliad. Telephus had vowed that neither he nor any of his children would ever fight the Greeks. However, Eurypylus’ mother, Astyoche, was bribed with a gold vine to send her son to fight for Troy. There Eurypylus was killed at the hands of Neoptolemus. We do not know which part of the myth was used in Homerus’ tragedy (or tragedies). In some way he must have referred to the play by Sophocles, of which, unfortunately, only tens of verses and a few hundred individual words remain.

Philiscus of Corcyra (TrGF 89, 104) ANCIENT TESTIMONIA T1 TrGF 104 T1 Suda s.v. Φιλίσκος, Κερκυραῖος, Φιλώτου υἱός, τραγικὸς καὶ ἱερεὺς τοῦ Διονύσου ἐπὶ τοῦ Φιλαδέλφου Πτολεμαίου γεγονώς. καὶ ἀπ‘ αὐτοῦ τὸ Φιλίσκιον μέτρον προσηγορεύθη, ἐπείπερ αὐτῷ ἐνεδαψιλεύετο. ἔστι δὲ τῆς δευτέρας τάξεως τῶν τραγικῶν, οἵτινές εἰσιν ζ′ καὶ ἐκλήθησαν Πλείας. αἱ δὲ τραγῳδίαι αὐτοῦ εἰσι μβ′. Philiscus the Corcyrean, son of Philotus, tragic poet and Dionysian priest, lived under Ptolemy Philadelphus. The Philiscian metre was named after him, since he used it frequently. He is one of the second rank of tragedians, of whom there are seven called the Pleiad. There exist 42 of his tragedies. Gercke (1889), p. 133. For example, Ar. Ra. 862, 956.

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TrGF 89 T5 Suda s.v. Φιλίσκος, κωμικός. τῶν δραμάτων αὐτοῦ ἐστιν ῎Αδωνις, Διὸς γοναί, Θεμιστοκλῆς, ῎Ολυμπος, Πανὸς γοναί, ῾Ερμοῦ καὶ ᾿Αφροδίτης γοναί, ᾿Αρτεμίδος καὶ ᾿Απόλλωνος. Philiscus, a writer of comedies, which include: Adonis, The Birth of Zeus, Themistocles, Olympus, The Birth of Pan, The Birth of Hermes and Aphrodite, [The Birth of] Artemis and Apollo.

T2 Inscription from Kos [Hellenistic period] Inscr. Cos 218 Paton-Hicks [π]ρὶν μὲν Ὁμήρειο[ι γρα]φ̣ίδες φιλ[οδέσπο]τ̣ον ἦθος Εὐμαίου χρυσέαις ἔκλαγον ἐν σελίσιν· σεῦ δὲ καὶ εἰν Ἀίδαο σαόφρονα μῆτιν ἀείσει, Ἴναχ’, ἀείμνηστον γράμμα λαλεῦσα πέτρη, καί σε πρὸς εὐσεβέων δόμον ἄξεται ἐσθλὰ Φιλίσκος δῶρα καὶ ἐν ζωοῖς κἀμ φθιμένοισι τίνων, σήν τ’ ἄλοχον Κλειοῦν ταὐτόν σοι παῖδα τίουσαν, πηγῆς ἧς μαστῶν εἴλκυσε νηπίαχος. ὦ δυσάλκτ’ Ἀίδη, τί τὸ τηλίκον ἔσχες ὄνειαρ, κλεινὸν Κλευμαχίδος κοῦρον ἀειράμενος; Once Homer’s gravers in gold verse cried out The character Eumaeus so devoted to his master. And in Hades your shrewd wisdom shall sing, Inachus, the stone that with an eternal inscription speaks. And you to the home of the pious Philiscus shall guide, Entwining with noble gifts among the living and dead, And your wife Cleo, who honoured you with the same son – Sucking as a child from the source of her breast. O inevitable Hades, what a boon it was for you To take Cleumachid’s famous boy!

T3 TrGF 104 T2 Heph. Ench. P. 30, 21–31, 5 Consbr. Φίλικος δὲ ὁ Κερκυραῖος, εἷς ὢν τῆς Πλειάδος, ἑξαμέτρῳ συνέθηκεν ὅλον ποίημα    τῇ χθονίῃ μυστικὰ Δήμητρί τε καὶ Φερσεφόνῃ     καὶ Κλυμένῳ τὰ δῶρα. τοῦτο δὲ καὶ ἀλαζονεύεται εὑρηκέναι Φίλικος λέγων    καινογράφου συνθέσεως τῆς Φιλίκου, γραμμα     τικοί, δῶρα φέρω πρὸς ὑμᾶς· ψεύδεται δέ· πρὸ γὰρ αὐτοῦ Σιμμίας ὁ Ῥόδιος ἐχρήσατο ἔν τε τῷ Πελέκει

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Hellenistic Tragedy Philicus the Corcyrean, being one of the Pleiad, composed an entire poem in hexametres: Mystic gifts for earthly Demeter, Persephone and Clymenus. Philicus boasted that he had invented it, saying: ‘Grammarians! I bring you gifts recorded in the new style of Philiscian metre.’ Yet he lied, since Simmias of Rhodes had used it in the Axe …

T4 Σ B in Heph. (Trichas Gramm., Libellus de novem metris) p. 387 Καὶ τὰ ἑξάμετρα δὲ καταληκτικά, εἰ καί ὑπέρμετρα φαίνεται, ἀλλ’ ὅμως ἐπετηδεύσατο ταῦτα ὅ τε Κερκυραῖος Φίλικος, εἷς τῆς ἐπὶ Πτολεμαίου Πλειάδος. The catalectic hexametre seems to exceed the metre, and yet it was used by Philicus of Corcyra, one of Ptolemy’s Pleiad.

T5 Caesius Bassus De metris, p. 263 Keil Philicius versus ex duplici pede constat, quem bacchicon musici, choriambicon grammatici vocant. Habet longam et duas breves et longam, id est trochaeum et iambum. Hoc autem Philicus conscripsit hymnos Cereri et Liberae, tali genere metri, quod scilicet † est acri salis et arcanae deorum venerationi † credidit convenire. Apud nostros hoc metrum non reperio. Philiscian verse comprises a double foot, called by musicians bakchicon, whereas grammarians call it choriambicon. It has one long, two short and a long, which is a trochee and an iamb. Thus Philicus wrote hymns in this metre in honour of Ceres and Libera, believing it to harmonize with the intelligent wit and arcane cult of deities. In our writings I have not encountered such a metre.

T6 TrGF 104 T4 Callix. FGrH 627 F2 ap. Ath. 5. 198B. μεθ’ οὓς ἐπορεύετο Φιλίσκος ὁ ποιητὴς ἱερεὺς ὢν Διονύσου καὶ πάντες οἱ περὶ τὸν Διόνυσον τεχνῖται. Behind them [the Satyrs in Ptolemy Philadelphus’ procession] strode Philiscus, who was a poet and a priest of Dionysus and all the technitai of the Dionysiac association.

T7 Anonymous epigram, PHamb. inv. 312 (third century ad) = Suppl. Hell. frg. 980. ἔρχεο δὴ μακάριστος ὁδοιπόρος, ἔρχεο καλοὺς χώρους εὐσεβέων ὀψόμενος, Φίλικε, ἐκ κισσηρεφέος κεφαλῆς εὔυμνα κυλίων ῥήματα, καὶ νήσους κώμασον εἰς μακάρων, εὖ μὲν γῆρας ἰδὼν εὐέστιον ᾿Αλκινόοιο



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Φαίηκος, ζώειν ἀνδρὸς ἐπισταμένου· ᾿Αλκινόου τ̣ι̣ς̣ ἐ̣ὼ̣ν̣ ἐξ αἵματος < > Go, most blessed wayfarer, go Philicus To see the beautiful lands of the hallowed. Your head crowned with ivy, juggling the words of beautiful songs Go in komos to the fortunate isles. Knowing well the hospitality of Alcinous, the Phaeacian, A man who knew how to live … Someone of Alcinous’ blood …

T8 Σ Germ. Arat. 70, 15 … sunt in hoc signo in eius testa aliae stellae, quas asinos appellant. Graeci enim ὄνους dicunt. quos Liber astris intulit, quod cum a Iunone insania obiecta fugeret ad occasus, ut in Dodonaei Iovis templo responsa peteret, ut Philiscus refert, et magnis imbribus cum grandine ortis stagna, quae transiturus erat, inundata detinerent iter eius, asini ex contrario transeunt per aquas. ex his uno insidens et ipse transvectus est sine periculo insaniaque liberatus dicitur. uno itaque ex his fecisse, ut voce humana loqueretur. qui cum sensum accipisset, post paucum tempus cum Priapo de membro naturali contendere coepit. In this sign, in its shell there are other stars, called the donkeys; whereas the Greeks call them ὄνοι. Liber raised them to the stars when, driven insane by Juno, he had fled west to Dodona, to seek a response from the oracle in Jupiter’s temple, as Philiscus reports, and when, on account of great rainfall with hailstones, the marshes he was to cross were flooded and rendered impassable, donkeys came across the water from the other side. They say he got through safely, mounted on the back of one of these and was thus delivered from his madness. And he also made one of them able to speak in a human voice. And when it gained the capacity to think, it soon began to contend with Priapus on the subject of the male member.

T9 Plin. HN 35, 106 Protogenes … fecit … Philiscum, tragoediarum scriptorem, meditantem Protogenes … made … Philiscus, the tragic author, pensive

As with the other members of the Pleiad, information regarding the life and work of Philiscus is extremely sparse.44 The above testimonies undoubtedly show that he was one of the seven most outstanding tragic poets of the post-Classical era, but we have no evidence to confirm it in the form of an extant play or at least a more extensive fragment. Even an approximate date of birth, his actual name and type of literary output are uncertain. It seems very probable that already in ancient times Stoessl (1938), pp. 2379–81.

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Figure 2.  A tragic poet contemplating a mask (the source of his inspiration), or considering whether it suits a character from his work. Webster (1970), p. 159, posited that this image could be a copy of a portrait of Philiscus by Protogenes. Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Su concessione del Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali-Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Napoli e Pompei.



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he was confused with Philiscus of Aegina45 and perhaps a namesake who wrote comedies.46 F. Schramm argues that if γεγονώς in the book of Suda is taken to mean ‘he was born’, Philiscus would have been a very young poet among the stars of the ‘tragic constellation’.47 We should, nevertheless, trust the statistical studies of Rohde, which interpret γεγονώς to mean ἀκμάσας,48 which would make Philiscus very much a contemporary of other Pleiad members. Such an interpretation tallies with the testimony of Callixenus of Rhodes (T6), who, describing a great procession organized by Ptolemy Philadelphus, mentions Philiscus as a poet and Dionysiac priest, and, moreover, the head of the Dionysiac artists’ (technitai) association. The famous pompe was most probably held in 275/274 bc49 and so Philiscus would have been a wellknown and respected person, maybe 30–35 years old – assuming, of course, that he was born before 300 bc. A different birth date is given by R. J. Walker, followed by F. Schramm and T. Sinko.50 These scholars consider Philiscus of Corcyra to be represented in a portrait by Protogenes (born c. 360 bc). The painting was made no later than 290 bc and portrays a famous tragedian who was already quite mature. Hence Philiscus may have been born earlier, around the year 320 bc.51 One of the clues as to when Philiscus could have been active is the aforementioned inscription from Kos, thanks to which R. Reitzenstein estimated that the tragedian was on the island in the years 275–270.52 However, if the funerary epigram for Inachus refers to Philiscus’ guardian, then perhaps Philiscus had actually spent his childhood on Kos and need not have necessarily been present on the island after his guardian’s death to supervise the inscription. The poet undoubtedly came from the island of Corcyra, as this is testified to not only by the addition of Κερκυραῖος to his name, but also the mentioning of the island’s mythical ruler, Alcinous, in the epigram on Philiscus. The tragedian’s name appears in two forms: Philicus and Philiscus. There is strong evidence to support both names53 and it is hard to judge which is more correct. The Philicus form is used by Hephaestion, Choeroboscus, Tzetzes and Caesius Bassus, Philiscus of Aegina was the son of Onesicritus, the helmsman of Alexander the Great. According to Diogenes Laertius (6.74) he was taught by Diogenes the Cynic, who even dedicated to him one of his written works. Later Philiscus’ tragedies were actually attributed to Diogenes, who had allegedly also been Alexander’s teacher prior to Aristotle’s arrival in Pella. One of the comedies of Alexis bore his name (Ath. 14.642F.). See: Fritz (1938), pp. 2382–3; Brown (1949), pp. 1–8. 46 Philiscus the comic poet, see Körte (1938), pp. 2381–2. 47 Schramm (1929), p. 21. 48 Rohde (1878), pp. 161–220, 638–9; Rohde (1879), pp. 620–23. 49 Fraser (1972, I), pp. 231–2, dates the pompe to have been held in 279–278 or 275–274 bc and believes it to have been part of broader Ptolemaic celebrations. On the basis of astronomical evidence, Hölbl (2001), p. 85 dates the pompe to have occurred in February 274 bc. 50 Walker (1923), p. 244; Schramm (1929), p. 21; Sinko (1947), p. 499. But Walker assumed that the pompe was held in 284 bc. 51 Snell and Kannicht, the last publishers of Philiscus’ fragments, identify Protogenes’ portrait as representing Philiscus of Aegina (TrGF, 258). For photographic reproductions of Protogenes’ assumed work, see: Webster (1963), p. 49; Bieber (1961), fig. 300a; Richter (1965), p. 242. Here fig.2. 52 Reitzenstein (1893), p. 222. 53 See the above testimonia regarding the tragic poet. 45

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and it also appears in the papyrus epigram. Philiscus, however, appears in the Suda, in Athenaeus, in scholia on Germanicus’ Aratea, scholia on Hephaestion and, if it is in reference to the same poet, in Pliny. The correct form has been the subject of heated debate among philologists since the start of the nineteenth century.54 Schramm categorically favoured the Philicus55 form as that was how the poet refers to himself in the extant choriambic fragment. However, this form actually suited the choriambic metre and so perhaps the author deliberately altered his real name from Philiscus to Philicus for this very reason. We should also note that in extant ancient Greek texts the name Philiscus appears far more frequently than the sporadic instances of Philicus.56 It needs to be stressed that Philiscus was a particularly important member of the Pleiad on account of his function as a Dionysiac priest and head of the stage artists association, positions that must have entitled him to many royal privileges. G. Wojaczek makes a connection between Philiscus’ priestly status and his work as a playwright: ‘Dionysische Religiosität spricht auch aus seinem Werk’.57 To support his thesis, Wojaczek points to Philiscus’ Hymn to Demeter, the satyr play ῎Ονοι (Donkeys) with its distinctly Dionysiac, mythological theme and the two epigrams concerning Philiscus. But this theory seems a bit far-fetched, since one would be hard put to find in ancient Greek literature an author who did not use mythological topics, ones which were inevitably also religious, and in this respect Philiscus’ fragments in no way stand out as being particularly pious. Equally little is known about Philiscus’ literary work. He was certainly the author of lyric poetry, since choriambic metre was even described with his name. Hephaestion’s testimony states that although he had not invented the metre, Philiscus was the first to use its hexametric form, in the hymn to Demeter and Kore (Libera),58 no doubt originally from an Attic cult and perhaps associated with the Eleusinian mysteries.59 Caesius Bassus erroneously writes of two separate hymns (the second devoted entirely to Libera). Virtually nothing is known of Philiscus’ work as a playwright. The Suda attributes 42 tragedies to him but fails to name even one of them. After a thorough analysis of extant titles of plays ascribed to Philiscus the comic poet – ῎Αδωνις (Adonis), Διὸς γοναί (The Birth of Zeus), Θεμιστοκλῆς (Themistocles), ῎Ολυμπος (Olympus), Πανὸς γοναί (The Birth of Pan), ῾Ερμοῦ καὶ ᾿Αφροδίτης γοναί (The Birth of Hermes and Aphrodite), ᾿Αρτεμίδος καὶ ᾿Απόλλωνος γοναί ([The Birth of] Artemis and Apollo) – U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff60 came to the conclusion that none of them seemed suitable as the subjects of comedies and therefore could have actually been written by a tragic poet. Of the same opinion was Walker, who states that ‘Philiscus comicus … was almost a nobody’, and all above-mentioned plays have been called comicosatyrica 57 58 59 60 54 55 56

Comp. Welcker (1841), p. 1265; Norsa (1927) and the editions by Schramm and Snell-Kannicht. Schramm (1929), p. 23. See LGPN s.v. Wojaczek (1969), p. 134. The fragments identified and published by Norsa (1927), pp. 87–92. Maas (1927), p. 439. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff (1924), p. 550, 1.



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by the tragedian61. T. Sinko62, in turn, proposes to classify these plays as something in the style of Epicharmian mimes, or even more probably as satyr plays, especially since the birth of deities is very much in keeping with this genre. Yet are such tenuous arguments sufficient to deny the comic poet a claim to the authorship of the said plays? Contrary to Wilamowitz’s opinion, there are confirmed examples of Middle Comic plays bearing similar titles: Πανὸς γοναί by Aratus, ᾿Αφροδίτης γοναί (The Birth of Aphrodite) by Antiphanes, Διονύσου γοναί (The Birth of Dionysus) by Anaxandrides, ᾿Αθηνᾶς γοναί (The Birth of Athena) by Hermippus as well as Διονύσου γοναί (The Birth of Dionysus) and Μουσῶν γοναί (The Birth of the Muses) by Polyzelus63. Moreover, a fragment of a comedy entitled The Birth of Zeus has also been discovered and attributed to Philiscus.64 Snell proposes to attribute all the aforementioned play titles to Philiscus of Aegina (but with some hesitation), and furthermore suggests distinguishing the tragic poet from the comic one by calling them the Corcyrean Philicus and the Aeginian Philiscus. It would appear, however, that the issue remains open. Nevertheless, with regard to one title, Themistocles, we can be certain that the play was not a comedy but rather a tragedy with a historical setting. Could this be one of only two extant traces of Philiscus of Corcyra’s work as a tragic poet? The other could be a tragedy entitled Adonis. Tragedies concerning this myth, of Syrian provenance and popular in Hellenistic times, were written by the tyrant of Syracuse Dionysius the Elder, and also by Ptolemy IV. The tale of Aphrodite’s grief-stricken love and the death of her beloved was hardly a natural plot for a comedy. However, the distich from a tragedy cited by Stobaeus (4.33.17), and ascribed by Nauck to a member of the Pleiad, was, on account of its cynical undertone, certainly not written by the Corcyrean poet and was more probably the work of Philiscus of Aegina.65 The traces of a literary piece by Philiscus of Corcyra may be found in scholia on Germanicus’ Aratea (70.15). These scholia portray a Dionysus driven insane, who is helped on his way across a river to the Dodona oracle by a herd of donkeys. One of the beasts, endowed by the deity with the gift of human speech, later engages in a dispute with Priapus de membro naturali. This piece ridiculing a new-fangled cult was classified by Wilamowitz-Moellendorff66 as the work of a lyric poet. This would to some extent be confirmed by Caesius Bassus’ testimony if we amend the text to read: ‘Philiscus conscripsit Cereri et Libero [not Liberae].’67 One nevertheless has to acknowledge that this subject was also ideally suited to the plot of a satyr play, and as such did indeed follow a very classical convention. The protagonists of such a drama would be Dionysus and Priapus as well as a talking donkey, raised (like Crotus in Sositheus’ play) to be among the stars. A solution to this problem could be 64 65 66 67 61 62 63

Walker (1923), p. 244. Sinko 1947, p. 499. Cf. also Nesselrath (1990), pp. 229f. Körte (1930), pp. 472–5; Nesselrath (1990, 1995); Rosen (1995). TrGF 89; Schramm (1929), p. 24. Wilamowitz-Moellendorf (1924), p. 550. See Sinko (1947), p. 500.

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a hypothesis that we are actually talking about two different works: one a hymn to Demeter and Kore (Libera), and the other a satyr play concerning Dionysus. Such an explanation would not require either testimony to be amended.

Lycophron (TrGF 100) ANCIENT TESTIMONIA T1 TrGF 100 T 1 Tz. Ad Lyc. p. 4, 20. 25 Scheer ἀλλαχοῦ γὰρ οὗτος ὁ Λυκόφρων τραγικός ἐστι ξδ′ ἢ μϚ′ δράματα τραγῳδιῶν γεγραφώς. […] Γένος Λυκόφρονος. *῾Ο* Λυκόφρων οὑτοσὶ τῷ μὲν γένει Χαλκιδεὺς ἦν, υἱὸς Σωκλέους ἢ Λύκου τοῦ ἱστοριογράφου κατά τινας. εἷς δὲ ἦν τῶν ἑπτὰ ποιητῶν, οἵτινες διὰ τὸ εἶναι ἑπτὰ τῆς Πλειάδος ἐλέγοντο· […] καὶ οὗτος ὁ Λυκόφρων κἂν ἕτεροι μὴ εἰδότες ἄλλους φασὶν εἶναι τῆς Πλειάδος. […] εὐδοκίμει δὲ τότε *ὁ* Λυκόφρων οὐ τοσοῦτον διὰ τὴν ποίησιν ὅσον διὰ τὸ λέγειν ἀναγραμματισμοὺς οἷον ὅτι Πτολεμαῖος ἀπὸ μέλιτος λέγει μεταγραμματιζόμενον, ᾿Αρσινόη *δὲ* ἴον ῞Ηρας καὶ ἕτερα τοιαῦτα τούτοις ὅμοια. For elsewhere this tragedian Lycophron wrote 64 or 46 tragedies (…). The family of Lycophron: The family of this Lycophron was from Chalcis. He was the son of Socles, or, according to some, of the historiographer Lycus. He was one of seven poets who, on account of being seven in number, were called the Pleiad. (…) as well as this Lycophron, though some, not knowing [the matter], say that others belonged to the Pleiad. (… ) was appreciated not so much for poetry as for his anagrams, for example, anagrammatizing Ptolemy to mean ‘from honey’, Arsinoe to become ‘violet of Hera’ and other anagrams of this sort.

T2 TrGF 100 T 2 Tz. Chil. 8, (204) 474–7 Οὗτος ὁ παῖς τοῦ Λύκου δε, εἶτε μὲν τοῦ Σωκλέους, Λυκόφρων ὁ καὶ σύγχρονος ὑπάρχων Πτολεμαίῳ, πολλὰ μὲν συνεγράψατο δράματα, τραγῳδίας, καὶ βίβλον ἣν ἐπέγραψεν τὴν κλῆσιν Ἀλεξάνδραν, This Lycophron was the son of Lycus, or Socles, Lived in the time of Ptolemy, Wrote many satyr plays, tragedies And a book which he called Alexandra.

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Tz. περὶ κωμῳδίας 1 Prolegomena de comoedia Aristophanis, 22–38 ἰστέον, ὅτι Ἀλέξανδρος ὁ Αἰτωλὸς καὶ Λυκόφρων ὁ Χαλκιδεὺς ὑπὸ Πτολεμαίου τοῦ Φιλαδέλφου προτραπέντες τὰς σκηνικὰς διώρθωσαν βίβλους, Λυκόφρων μὲν τὰς τῆς κωμῳδίας, Ἀλέξανδρος δὲ τὰς τῆς τραγῳδίας, ἀλλὰ δὴ καὶ τὰς σατυρικάς. It should be noted that Alexander Aetolus and Lycophron of Chalcis, persuaded by Ptolemy Philadelphus, put in order stage plays. Lycophron worked on the comedies, whereas Alexander worked on the tragedies, as well as satyr plays.

T4 TrGF 100 T3 Suda s.v. Λυκόφρων, Χαλκιδεὺς ἀπὸ Εὐβοίας, υἱὸς Σωκλέους, θέσει δὲ Λύκου τοῦ ῾Ρηγίνου· γραμματικὸς καὶ ποιητὴς τραγῳδιῶν. ἔστι γοῦν εἷς τῶν ἑπτὰ οἵτινες Πλειὰς ὠνομάσθησαν. εἰσὶ δὲ αἱ τραγῳδίαι αὐτοῦ Αἰόλος, ᾿Ανδρομέδα, ᾿Αλήτης, Αἰολίδης, ᾿Ελεφήνωρ, ῾Ηρακλῆς, ῾Ικέται, ῾Ιππόλυτος, Κασσανδρεῖς, Λάϊος, Μαραθώνιοι, Ναύπλιος, Οἰδίπους α′, β′, ᾿Ορφανός, Πενθεύς, Πελοπίδαι, Σύμμαχοι, Τηλέγονος, Χρύσιππος. διασκευὴ δ‘ ἐστὶν ἐκ τούτων ὁ Ναύπλιος. ἔγραψε καὶ τὴν καλουμένην ᾿Αλεξάνδραν, τὸ σκοτεινὸν ποίημα. Lycophron of Chalcis in Euboea, son of Socles, adopted by Lycus of Rhegium, grammarian and tragic poet. In every respect he is one of the seven who were called the Pleiad. His tragedies include: Aeolus, Andromeda, Aletes [The Wanderer?], The Aeolides, Elephenor, Heracles, The Suppliants, Hippolytus, The Cassandreians, Laius, The Marathonians, Nauplius, Oedipus 1 and 2, The Orphans, Pentheus, The Pelopidai, The Allies, Telegonus and Chrysippus. Of these Nauplius is a revised version. He also wrote an obscure poem entitled Alexandra.

T5 TrGF 100 F 5 D.L. 2. 133 πλείω συνάγων συμπόσια· ἐν οἷς καὶ ποιητῶν καὶ μουσικῶν. ἠσπάζετο δὲ καὶ ῎Αρατον καὶ Λυκόφρονα τὸν τῆς τραγῳδίας ποιητὴν καὶ τὸν ῾Ρόδιον ᾿Ανταγόραν· (Menedemus) often invited guests, also poets and musicians. His friends were Aratus, the tragedian Lycophron and Antagoras of Rhodes.

T6 TrGF 100T 7 Ovid. Ibis 531–2 Utque coturnatum periisse Lycophrona narrant, Haereat in fibris fixa sagitta tuis. And as they say Lycophron, who wore cothurn shoes, died, So too may the arrow thrust into your guts stick.

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Lycophron is mentioned as a Pleiad member in four of the extant lists: Hephaestion Scholia A and B, Choeroboscus and Tzetzes, and is also confirmed as such in the Suda. He came from Chalcis in Euboea as the son of Socles.68 He was later adopted by Lycus of Rhegium, of whom the Suda says: ‘Also called Butheras of Rhegium, a historian who lived in the time of the Diadochi and was conspired against by Demetrius of Phalerum. He wrote a history of Libya and also a piece on Sicily.’69 Lycophron was most probably born sometime between 315 and 310 bc.70 His youth might have been spent in Chalcis, Athens or Rhegium. It was in this period of his life that he would have been able to meet and befriend the philosopher Menedemus,71 who had founded the Eretrian school of philosophy. It seems that Lycophron arrived in Alexandria no earlier than in 285 bc. It seems certain that as long as his father’s personal enemy, Demetrius of Phalerum, had influence in the royal court of Ptolemy I, Lycophron had no chance of settling in Alexandria. It was only when Ptolemy II took over the throne and after Demetrius had died that this tragedian could join the Alexandrian scholars of the Museum. There he was entrusted with cataloguing the works of comic poets. The fruit of his labours was περὶ κωμῳδίας, a work cited several times by Athenaeus (4, 140A; 7, 278B; 11, 485D; 11, 501DE; 13, 555A). Many scholars believe that it comprised at least 11 books.72 We do not know how long Lycophron lived in Alexandria, or when and in what circumstances he died. Ovid’s distich from the Ibis would indicate that he had suffered a sudden death, shot with an arrow. The information about the circumstances of Lycophron’s death was probably taken from the original Ibis by Callimachus.73 The Alexandrian poet was not only a contemporary, but also an acquaintance (if not a friend) of Lycophron; therefore details on his death seem to be true. In the case of precedent and subsequent writers (vv. 519–26: Callisthenes, Archilochus, Hipponax and Stesichorus as well as Euripides, Empedocles and Orpheus vv. 595–600) Ovid – again probably after Callimachus – followed the traditional legends, but there is no reason to assume that the account of Lycophron’s death was also fictitious, even if the circumstances were of an extraordinary nature. The scholia to Ovid’s Ibis present an even more detailed picture of Lycophron’s

Maybe the same Socles who is mentioned by Athenaeus 11. 473A. The Suda: Λύκος, ὁ καὶ Βουθήρας, ῾Ρηγῖνος, ἱστορικός, πατὴρ Λυκόφρονος τοῦ τραγικοῦ, ἐπὶ τῶν διαδόχων γεγονὼς καὶ ἐπιβουλευθεὶς ὑπὸ Δημητρίου τοῦ Φαληρέως. οὗτος ἔγραψεν ἱστορίαν Λιβύης, καὶ περὶ Σικελίας. 70 If we assume that he must have been in his acme when he got the position at the library of Alexandria. Different dates were established by Susemihl: 330–325 bc (see Susemihl (1891), pp. 272–3), but also the discussion on the termini of the Alexandra in this book. 71 See testimonia on the play about Menedemus. 72 Such is the opinion of Ziegler (1927), pp. 2323–4, Sinko (1947), p. 510. Yet the passage from Athenaeus 11.501D (᾿Ερατοσθένης ἐν τῷ ἑνδεκάτῳ περὶ Κωμῳδίας τὴν λέξιν ἀγνοεῖν φησι Λυκόφρονα) may be construed as a quote from the 11th book of Eratosthenes, which was in turn citing Lycophron. 73 On Ovid’s debt to the Ibis Callimachus, see especially: Zipfel (1910); Martini (1932); Kolar (1933); La Penna (1957), XXXII–LV; and more recently Watson (1991), pp. 79ff.; Williams (1996), p. 13ff. I do not share Rostagni’s radical view that Ovid’s poem is a direct translation from a Greek original (Rostagni, 1920); nevertheless in the case of Lycophron’s death we may assume that Callimachus’ lines are the direct source of the information. 68 69



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death: the arrow was poisoned74.Yet who would wish to kill one of the best tragedians of the Hellenistic period, and why, will no doubt for ever remain an unresolved mystery. Tzetzes states that he had written 46 or 64 tragedies and satyr dramas. The Suda names 40 titles in alphabetical order, which would suggest that the source had been a now lost list or catalogue of the author’s works. These titles show that Lycophron frequently followed the tragic convention set in the Classical period (e.g. Hippolytus, Oedipus and The Pelopidai), but was not afraid to use less well-known and tragic themes, such as Nauplius. As a writer he was also interested in contemporary affairs, as the title The Cassandreians would suggest.

Menedemus F1 Ath. 10. 420 παῖδες κρατίστου πατρὸς75 ἐξωλέστατοι, ἐγὼ μὲν ὑμῖν, ὡς ὁρᾶτε, στρηνιῶ· δεῖπνον γὰρ οὔτ’ ἐν Καρίᾳ, μὰ τοὺς θεούς, οὔτ’ ἐν ῾Ρόδῳ τοιοῦτον οὔτ’ ἐν Λυδίᾳ κατέχω δεδειπνηκώς. ῎Απολλον, ὡς καλόν. SILENUS:

Cursed children of the mighty father I shall, as you can see, revel, for neither in Caria, by the gods, nor on Rhodes, nor in Lydia have I been at such a feast; Apollo, how beautiful!

F2 Ath. 10. 420 ἀλλὰ κυλίκιον ὑδαρὲς ὁ παῖς περιῆγε τοῦ πεντωβόλου, ἀτρέμα παρεξεστηκός· ὅ τ’ ἀλιτήριος καὶ δημόκοινος ἐπεχόρευε δαψιλὴς θέρμος, πενήτων καὶ τρικλίνου συμπότης. And the boy Passed around a cup of diluted wine, somewhat stale, And the plentiful lupine came dancing in, that criminal common to all, Fellow reveller of paupers and banquets in the triclinium Although obvious differences and mistakes (e.g. the name of the tragedian) in the scholia should be noted: G. 531: Utque cothurnatum. Licophorus tragicus nimis ignominiose de principibus loquebatur, unde in ipsa recitatione saggita toxicata percussus interiit and C. et Ask: Licoris quidam poeta scribens percussus est saggita a quodam inimico suo in vena, unde incessanter inundante sanguine mortuus est. (after Williams and Ellis (2008), pp. 91–2) 75 Πατρός is Canter’s universally accepted conjecture. Only Wikarjak (1948–9) tried to defend the παιδός by explaining that this was how old Sylen could have spoken about Dionysus, whom he had raised. 74

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78 F3 D.L. 2. 140

ὡς ἐκ βραχείας δαιτὸς ἡ βαιὰ κύλιξ αὐτοῖς κυκλεῖται πρὸς μέτρον, τράγημα δέ ὁ σωφρονιστὴς πᾶσιν ἐν μέσῳ λόγος When, after the humble feast, a none too large goblet was passed among them in moderation, and in the middle the dessert for all was instructive conversation.

F476 Ath. 10. 420 πολλάκις συνόντας αὐτοὺς ἐπὶ πλεῖον ὁ ὄρνις κατελάμβανε τὴν ἕω καλῶν τοῖσι δ’ οὐδέπω κόρος often when together they’d be quite startled by a bird summoning the dawn, [and] they still had not had enough.

T1 Antigon. Caryst. (pp. 99–100 Wil) D.L. 2, 139–140 Τὰ δὲ συμπόσια τοῦτον ἐποιεῖτο τὸν τρόπον· προηρίστα μετὰ δυοῖν ἢ τριῶν ἕως βραδέως ἦν τῆς ἡμέρας· ἔπειτά τις ἐκάλει τοὺς παραγενομένους καὶ αὐτοὺς ἤδη δεδειπνηκότας· ὥστ’ εἴ τις ἔλθοι θᾶττον, ἀνακάμπτων ἐπυνθάνετο τῶν ἐξιόντων τί εἴη παρακείμενον καὶ πῶς ἔχοι τὸ τοῦ χρόνου· εἰ μὲν οὖν λαχάνιον ἢ ταρίχιον, ἀνεχώρουν· εἰ δὲ κρεᾴδιον, εἰσῄεσαν. ἦν δὲ τοῦ μὲν θέρους ψίαθος ἐπὶ τῶν κλινῶν, τοῦ δὲ χειμῶνος κώδιον· προσκεφάλαιον αὑτῷ φέρειν ἔδει. τό τε περιαγόμενον ποτήριον οὐ μεῖζον ἦν κοτυλιαίου·77 τράγημα θέρμος ἢ κύαμος, ἔστι δ’ ὅτε καὶ τῶν ὡρίων ἄπιος ἢ ῥοιὰ ἢ ὦχροι ἢ νὴ Δί’ ἰσχάδες. ἃ πάντα φησὶν ὁ Λυκόφρων ἐν τοῖς πεποιημένοις σατύροις αὐτῷ, οὓς Μενέδημος ἐπέγραψεν, ἐγκώμιον τοῦ φιλοσόφου ποιήσας τὸ δρᾶμα· ὧν καί τινά ἐστι τοιαυτί· [F 3] Menedemus received guests in the following way. He shared breakfast with two or three friends, with whom he would spend the entire day; only after dusk fell, would one of those present summon the guests, who would arrive having consumed a meal In his edition of Athenaeus’ work, Kaibel seems to consider the words ὁ ὄρνις κατελάμβανε τὴν ἕω καλῶν, τοῖσι δὲ οὐδέπω κόρος to be a quotation from the play. 77 From this point on the Diogenes Laertius testimony is cited by Snell and Kannicht (TrGF), but it would seem that the rest of this text (cited in English below) could actually be in reference to a play by Lycophron. 76



Tragedians and Tragedies at their own home. Whoever came earlier, would not immediately enter, but instead wait to find out from someone leaving what was being served and to which stage the feast had proceeded; if he learned that only vegetables or salted fish were served, he would go away; if he heard that there was meat, he would enter. In the summertime the tableside couches were covered with mats, whereas in winter they were covered with sheepskins. Each guest had brought their pillow to rest the head. The goblet which was supposed to be passed around the entire table was no larger than an ordinary cup. Lupines or peas were served for dessert, or also fruit which happened to be in season, pears, pomegranates, or simply dried figs. All this is described by Lycophron in a satyr drama that he had written in honour of the philosopher and entitled Menedemus. Here is a fragment from Lycophron’s play: [F3]

Ath. 10.419C–420C ᾿Αντίγονος δ’ ὁ Καρύστιος ἐν τῷ Μενεδήμου βίῳ τὴν διάταξιν διηγούμενος τοῦ παρὰ τῷ φιλοσόφῳ συμποσίου φησὶν ὅτι ἠρίστα μὲν δεύτερος ἢ τρίτος καθ’ αὑτόν· κἆτ’ ἔδει καὶ τοὺς λοιποὺς παρεῖναι δεδειπνηκότας. ἦν γὰρ τὸ τοῦ Μενεδήμου τοιοῦτον ἄριστον. μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα εἰσεκάλουν τοὺς παραγινομένους· ὧν, ὡς ἔοικεν, ὅτε προτερήσειαν ἔνιοι τῆς ὥρας, ἀνακάμπτοντες παρὰ τὰς θύρας ἀνεπυνθάνοντο τῶν ἐξιόντων παίδων τί τὸ παρακείμενον εἴη καὶ πῶς ἔχοι τῆς τοῦ χρόνου συμμετρίας τὸ ἄριστον. ὅτε μὲν οὖν ἀκούσειαν λάχανον ἢ τάριχος, ἀνεχώρουν, ὅτε δ’ ὅτι κρεᾴδιον, εἰσῄεσαν εἰς τὸν ἐπὶ τοῦτο παρεσκευασμένον οἶκον. ἦν δὲ τοῦ μὲν θέρους ἡτοιμασμένη ψίαθος ἐφ’ ἑκάστης κλίνης, τοῦ δὲ χειμῶνος κώδιον· προσκεφάλαιον δὲ αὐτὸν φέρειν ἕκαστον ἔδει. τὸ δὲ περιαγόμενον ποτήριον οὐ μεῖζον ἦν κοτυλιαίου, τράγημα δὲ θέρμος μὲν ἢ κύαμος συνεχῶς, ποτὲ δὲ καὶ τῶν ὡρίων εἰσεφέρετό τι, τοῦ μὲν θέρους ἄπιος ἢ ῥόα, τοῦ δ’ ἔαρος ὦχροι, κατὰ δὲ τὴν χειμερινὴν ὥραν ἰσχάδες. μαρτυρεῖ δὲ καὶ περὶ τούτων Λυκόφρων ὁ Χαλκιδεὺς γράψας σατύρους Μενέδημον, ἐν οἷς φησιν ὁ Σιληνὸς πρὸς τοὺς σατύρους· [F 1] καὶ προελθών· [F 2] ἑξῆς δέ φησιν ὅτι ζητήσεις ἦσαν παρὰ πότον· [F 3] ἱστορεῖται δὲ καὶ ὅτι [F 4] In his Life of Menedemus, Antigonus of Carystus, when describing how the symposium was organised, states that the philosopher had breakfast with two or three of his associates; and the rest would arrive only after they had eaten dinner. For so poor was Menedemus’ breakfast. Later he would summon those present. Some, it would seem, when they arrived too early, would mill around outside the door and ask servants leaving the building what was happening inside, and at what stage breakfast was. When they heard that vegetables or fish were served, they would leave, but when they heard there was meat, they would enter the fully prepared household. For in summer mats would be especially laid on every couch, and sheepskins in winter. Each guest had to bring his own pillow. The drinking vessel which was passed around was not larger than one cotyle, while snacks were invariably lupines or broad beans, though sometimes seasonal fruit were brought, pears or pomegranates in summer, peas in spring and dried figs in wintertime. This is testified by Lycophron of Chalcis, who

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wrote the satyr play Menedemus, with the words Silenus directs to the satyrs [F1] and continuing [F2] in turn says that inquiries came with the drinking [F3] and also recounts that [F4]

T2 Athen 2.55C Λυκόφρων δ’ ὁ Χαλκιδεὺς ἐν σατυρικῷ δράματι, ὃ ἐπὶ καταμωκήσει ἔγραψεν εἰς Μενέδημον τὸν φιλόσοφον, ἀφ’ οὗ ἡ τῶν ᾿Ερετρικῶν ὠνομάσθη αἵρεσις, διασκώπτων τῶν φιλοσόφων τὰ δεῖπνά φησι· [F2, 4–5] In a satyr drama that he had drolly written about the philosopher Menedemus, after whom the Eretrian school is named, Lycophron of Chalcis, mocking the feasts of philosophers, states: [F2]

The extant fragments come from a satyr play entitled Menedemus. We know of the play’s title thanks to Antigonus of Carystus as cited by Athenaeus, who in turn, quoting the fragments, once uses the expression ἐν σατυρικῷ δράματι, from which we have been able to determine the drama’s genre. The title itself tells us the subject of the play. The eponymous protagonist was a philosopher from Eretria, a contemporary, public figure, someone the tragedian knew personally. Menedemus was born in 350 bc. According to Diogenes Laertius (2, 125–6), his father came from a noble family called the Theopropidae but he was himself a humble builder. In his youth Menedemus also had to earn his living by painting theatre stage scenery. Laertius moreover reports that, during military service, Menedemus met Plato and henceforth resolved to remain in Athens. This, however, is an obvious error, since Plato’s pupil was a different Menedemus, namely, Menedemus of Pyrrha.78 The Menedemus of Eretria, on the other hand, befriended Asclepiades of Phlius, with whom he went to Megara, to the philosopher Stilpo. Next he joined Phaedo’s Elean school of philosophy, which was later renamed the Eretrian school in honour of Menedemus. As a person Menedemus was said to be aloof, rather impolite and very irritable, leading a very frugal existence, as befitted philosophers. He had many friends in philosophical and literary circles, including Aratus, Lycophron and Antagoras of Rhodes. Diogenes Laertius’ testimony regarding Menedemus’ friendship with Lycophron is very important. In his play, the tragedian described feasts at the philosopher’s house, ones he had personally witnessed. Naturally, this was a caricatured portrayal, typical for satyr play or comedy. We do not know whether Menedemus was upset by this play because no known source has recorded his reaction. We also do not know why Lycophron would wish to ridicule this philosopher and his school. Lycophron most probably met Menedemus in Eretria, and this even allows us to speculate as to when he actually decided to write the play. C. Holzinger believes this would have had to occur before the battle of Lysimachea (277 bc), after which K. von Fritz (1931) believes that the source of this error could have been a biographical piece by Heraclides Lembus.

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Menedemus left Eretria for good. Besides, shortly afterwards he died, at the court of Antigonus Gonatas, and that would hardly have been an appropriate time to write an amusing play about his foibles. The fragments cited from the satyr drama concern the specific nature of the feasts organized by Menedemus. Fragment 1 has the worldly-wise ‘expert’ of bacchanalia, Silenus, seemingly praise the lavishness of the feast, though what is really said is pure sarcasm. This becomes fully apparent in fragment 2, a citation that Athenaeus introduces with the phrase ‘to continue’ (καὶ προελθών). However, it should be stressed that these two fragments are not directly linked because the author leaves out part of Silenus’ speech.79 The second fragment describes the food served at the philosopher’s feast: cheap wine, diluted and musty, as well as lupines, though plentiful, food for the poor. Fragment 3, cited by Diogenes Laertius, confirms the meagreness of the meals served by the philosopher to guests; sometimes, apart from wine, you could also receive … an instructive talk! Despite attempts to match the text to metre, fragment 4 is cited by Athenaeus rather as a summary of a larger part of the play,80 in reference to the length of the feasts. They ended at dawn, when the cockerel called but the participants hungered for more, though it is unclear whether for more conversation or rather for food. Little can be said about the characters in the play. From one of the fragments cited by Athenaeus we can be certain that one of them was Silenus. From the sentence παῖδες κρατίστου πατρὸς ἐξωλέστατοι it transpires that Dionysus’ children, the satyrs, were also present.81 W. Steffen believes that other characters in the play included the philosopher’s pupils, or rather that the ‘school’ comprised a group of satyrs.82 It seems more than likely that the chief protagonist was none other than Menedemus, since the title of the play bears his name.83 Many scholars point to the tone of the play. Was it generally favourable to the philosopher or was the intention to ridicule his peculiarities? In this matter the ancient testimonia of Athenaeus and Diogenes Laertius do not concur. Diogenes uses the words ἐγκώμιον τοῦ φιλοσόφου ποιήσας, whereas Athenaeus states καταμωκήσει ἔγραψεν. The extant fragments certainly sound irreverent and sarcastic. Yet T. Sinko believed that the play praised the philosopher and was written by Lycophron in Alexandria (i.e. after Menedemus’ death).84 Earlier scholars had tried to reconcile the two ancient testimonies. J. Sajdak wrote: ‘… inerat igitur laus sed eius modi, ut omnes spectatores ironiae acerbitatem facile agnoscerent.’85 E. Friebel in turn wrote: Proof of this is the fact that Athenaeus uses the phrase καὶ προελθών in other parts of the Deipnosophistae, when he cites someone’s work and divides cited fragments with the expression ‘to continue’, thus indicating that something has been left out. We know this because there are other works cited by Athenaeus which have survived in their entirety and that is how he also introduces fragments from Plato’s Symposium (Ath. 5.217 B–C), Theophrastus’ On the Causes of Plants (Ath. 3.77 C–D) and Aristotle’s On the Generation of Animals (Ath. 3.88 B–C). 80 Wikarjak (1948–9), pp. 127–37. 81 Friebel (1837), p. 105. 82 Steffen (1935), XXIV. 83 Sinko was of a different opinion, believing the play to be similar to Alexandra and that it was only a Silenus’ rhesis, thus Menedemus did not actually appear on the stage. See Sinko (1948–9), p. 28. 84 Sinko (1948–9), p. 28. 85 Sajdak (1920), p. 73. 79

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‘Mediis, quae dicunt vocabulis annumerandum est ἐγκώμιον, quae quidem sententia confirmatur etiam eius originatione.’86 Neither explanation satisfied J. Wikarjak.87 He therefore proposed what seems the most likely version: knowing that Diogenes Laertius used Antigonus of Carystus’ biography of Menedemus but had never read Lycophron’s play, it is plausible that he had failed to notice the irony in the play fragment and instead treated it as praise of the philosopher’s humble lifestyle.88 This theory was firmly rejected by W. Steffen, who argued that only the first part of Silenus’ speech concerned Menedemus’ feast, whereas the second part (F2) was in reference to the feasts of other philosophers.89 However, there is no evidence in the extant fragments to confirm this. On the contrary, the fact that Athenaeus and Diogenes Laertius had both decided to cite the fragments they did in this particular context clearly confirms that Menedemus’ feast was specifically noted for its exceptional meagreness. Therefore Lycophron’s satyr play was most certainly ridiculing the philosopher’s eccentricities, in a similar way to how Aristophanes had made fun of Socrates and his school in The Clouds. But this does not necessarily mean that Lycophron’s play was not also, in a sense, praising the philoso-pher. One has to bear in mind that none other than Silenus mocks Menedemus’ feast – the Silenus who together with the satyrs spends all his time engaged in bacchanalian revelry. For a philosopher espousing temperance and moderation such a play could be perceived as cryptic praise.

The Pelopidai F5 Stob. 4, 52, 4 ᾿Αλλ’ ἡνίκ’ ἂν μὲν ᾖ πρόσω τὸ κατθανεῖν, ῞Αιδης ποθεῖται τοῖς δεδυστυχηκόσιν· ὅταν δ’ ἐφέρπῃ κῦμα λοίσθιον βίου, τὸ ζῆν ποθοῦμεν· οὐ γὰρ ἔστ’ αὐτοῦ κόρος. But if death is remote, unhappy people long for Hades. When life’s last wave nears, we desire life more; never having enough of it.

These four extant lines originate from Stobaeus, who cites them using the phrase: Λυκόφρονος ἐκ Πελοπιδῶν. The play’s title is also confirmed by the Suda. The Pelopidai were the sons of Pelops: Atreus and Thyestes. The mutual hatred of these brothers and the crimes they committed were the subject of many ancient tragedies. Among those who used this myth, were: Sophocles (Thyestes at Sicyon, and another play entitled Thyestes), Euripides (Thyestes), Agathon (Aerope), Chaeremon (Thyestes), Carcinus the Younger (Thyestes, Aerope?) and Diogenes of Sinope (Thyestes). Only fragments of any 89 86 87 88

Friebel (1837), p. 103. Wikarjak (1948–9), p. 134. Wikarjak (1948–9), p. 136. Steffen (1951), p. 334.



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of these plays remain, sometimes only the title. The sententious nature of the fragment from Lycophron’s play does not allow us to draw any general conclusions about the entire piece. All we can really establish is the fact that Lycophron used themes from classical tragedies, which had been popular in previous centuries.

The Cassandreians Judging by the title cited in the Suda, the Cassandreians tragedy was a historical, or, more accurately, a political drama. For it dealt with events that were virtually contemporary to Lycophron. Potidaea was rebuilt and renamed Cassandreia in 310 bc,90 and thus this year is the terminus post quem of the tragedy. Much has been said by scholars about the theoretical contents of this play, but nothing has been firmly established. Niebuhr and Welcker considered that it concerned the tyrant Apollodorus, who had been the cruel ruler of Cassandreia from the invasion of the Celts to 276 bc.91 Holzinger, on the other hand, suggests that the play’s chief protagonist was Phila, the wife of Demetrius Poliorcetes.92 When in 288 bc her husband lost his throne and fled to Cassandreia, the distraught Phila committed suicide by taking poison.93 Holzinger also considers the possibility of the play concerning the story of Arsinoe, the daughter of Ptolemy I. After the death of her first husband, Lysimachus, Arsinoe married her half-brother Ptolemy Keraunos. Then, once they were married, Keraunos entered Cassandreia and had the two sons of Arsinoe and Lysimachus killed. Justin gives a very heart-trending description of the queen’s sons dying in her arms, and then the grieving mother herself being banished in rags to the island of Samothrace.94 However, this theory immediately raises the question of whether Lycophron would have dared to write and then stage such a play about Ptolemy II’s wife.95 It is doubtful that such a play would have been staged during Arsinoe’s lifetime, while after her death it would have been virtually out of the question, for the Alexandrian court immediately and officially deified the late queen. And when considering the vile role Ptolemy Keraunos would have played in such a tragedy, one also has to remember that he was nevertheless still a member of the ruling Lagid dynasty. It is therefore very difficult to determine the actual theme of Lycophron’s play. The only thing we can be certain of is that the chorus in this tragedy were the inhabitants of Cassandreia. Perhaps it did indeed concern the tyrant Apollodorus, similarly to how Moschion recounted the story of Alexander the tyrant of Pherae in his play Men of Pherae. But, on account of the lack of any tangible evidence, we should refrain from formulating any verdicts.

Fraser (1972, II), p. 619. Niebuhr (1827), p. 117; on Apollodorus, see D.S. 22. 5. 1–2, Polyaen. Strat. 2. 29.1; 4. 6.18, 4. 7. 1–2, 8. 7.2 Ael. VH 14. 41, Dio Chrys. 19.52.1–2, 61.2, Plu. Mor. De sera 555b–556d, 778e, Sen. De Ira 2. 5. 1; Ben. 7. 19. 7; Kaerst (1894), p. 2851. 92 Holzinger (1895), p. 5. 93 An account of these events is given by Plutarch (Dem. 45). 94 Just. 24. 2–3. 95 Ptolemy II was Arsinoe’s third husband, as well as her brother and also the half-brother of Keraunos. 90 91

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Titles F1=T4 Suda s.v. Λυκόφρων Αἰόλος, ᾿Ανδρομέδα, ᾿Αλήτης, Αἰολίδης, ᾿Ελεφήνωρ, ῾Ηρακλῆς, ῾Ικέται, ῾Ιππόλυτος, Κασσανδρεῖς, Λάϊος, Μαραθώνιοι, Ναύπλιος, Οἰδίπους α′, β′, ᾿Ορφανός, Πενθεύς, Πελοπίδαι, Σύμμαχοι, Τηλέγονος, Χρύσιππος. διασκευὴ δ’ ἐστὶν ἐκ τούτων ὁ Ναύπλιος.

The Suda names 20 titles of plays by Lycophron. They are arranged alphabetically and most probably originated from a list that since been lost. Little can be said about the plays themselves apart from the myths on which they were based. Walker tried to arrange the titles into dilogies: a) Aeolus and the Aeolides, b) Aletes and Telegonus, c) Andromeda and Heracles, d) Chrysippus and the Pelopidai, e) Elephenor and Nauplius, f) Hippolytus and the Marathonians, g) Laius and Oedipus, h) Oedipus and the Orphans,96 i) Pentheus and the Suppliants, j) the Cassandreians and the Allies. Schramm modified this list by arranging three of the titles as a trilogy: Oedipus I, Oedipus II and Laius. a) Aeolus and the Aeolides – the reason for combining these two titles in a dilogy is fairly obvious, even if there is no way of guessing what the plays were actually about. F. Schramm notes that it is impossible determine which mythological Aeolus was the protagonist in Lycophron’s play. Was it the son of Helen and founder of the Aeolian race, or was it rather the son of Poseidon and Melanippe? It should be stressed that the Melanippe story had previously been used by Euripides (in two tragedies: Melanippe Sophe and Melanippe Desmotis). Euripides authored also a tragedy entitled Aeolus. Lycophron’s writing of a play concerning this particular mythological theme seems plausible. b) Aletes and Telegonus – Walker explains that the word ᾿Αλήτης is not a proper name but simply means ‘the wanderer’, in other words, Odysseus, and that is why the play can be associated with Telegonus, who was Odysseus and Circe’s son.97 The tragic theme in these two plays could have been Telegonus’ inadvertent act of patricide, a theme that Lycophron also employed in Alexandra (vv. 783–98). 98 c) Andromeda and Heracles – this subsequent pairing up is justified by Walker on the grounds that the two myths were associated with the Lagid dynasty (the Ptolemaic line was supposed to have descended from Heracles and Perseus). In my opinion this is too tenuous a link. F. Schramm rightly pointed out that the Lagids more willingly traced their origins to Dionysus rather than Perseus.99 Other than that, it is very difficult to find any connections between the two myths. d) Chrysippus and the Pelopidai – the Pelopidai title no doubt refers to the sons of Pelops: Atreus and Thyestes. Linking the Pelopidai with Chrysippus is fully justified as he also was a son of Pelops. According to one version of the myth he was seduced by 99 96 97 98

Here Walker applies the conjecture ᾿Ορφανοί. Walker (1923), p. 233. See Hartman (1917), p. 44. Schramm (1929), p. 30.



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Laius and committed suicide out of shame, a crime for which Pelops cast a curse on the seducer’s entire family. In another version Chrysippus was murdered by his halfbrothers Atreus and Thyestes. Euripides wrote a play entitled Chrysippus dealing with the abduction of the boy by Laius. e) Elepenor and Nauplius – here there is no obvious connection between the two heroes and it is very difficult to see how these two myths could be combined. If a dilogy or trilogy were necessary, Elepenor’s story should rather be linked with that of Telegonus and Odysseus, as all three were associated with Circe. Nauplius, on the other hand, did play a certain role in the Pelopidai myth, for he had saved the life of Aerope, who later became the wife of Atreus. f) Hippolytus and the Marathonians – the first tragedy concerned the undoubtedly sad tale of Hippolytus and Phaedra. Yet the title of the other play is more problematic. Walker believes that the chief protagonist in the Marathonians was Theseus, who had killed the famous Marathonian Bull. Ribbeck in turn believes the play to have been about Marathon, the eponymous hero who gave his name to the Marathon district,100 while Wagner and Welcker were of the opinion that the play should be associated with Aeschylus’ Persians (i.e. it was about the battle of Marathon). 101 And yet it is impossible to say what the play could have been about exclusively on the basis of such a title. g and h) Laius, Oedipus I and II as well as the Orphans – Walker divides these four plays into two dilogies. The first three plays clearly relate to the story of Oedipus and present the history of the three generations of his family. The Orphans mean, according to Walker, Eteocles, Polynices and Antigone, but the title of the fourth was recorded in the sources as the Orphan (᾿Ορφανός), which, if not amended to give it a plural meaning, does not really provide any premise to associate it with the Theban myths. We are therefore unable to say what the subject of a play with such a title could have concerned. i) Pentheus and the Suppliants – in Walker’s opinion, these tragedies are based on the Dionysian cycle of myths and belong to the same dilogy. He thinks that the Suppliants presented the story of the Thebans after the death of Pentheus. Walker suggests also that it must have been an equivalent to Aeschylus’ lost play Xantriae. The myth had also been used by Aeschylus in a now lost tragedy Pentheus, as well as by Euripides in his Bacchae. j) the Cassandreians and the Allies. The play entitled The Cassandreians has been discussed above, whereas the title of the second play, The Allies (Σύμμαχοι), is too general to indicate any specific theme. A historical theme has often been suggested, but there is not enough evidence to strongly support this view; however it is very tempting. In discussing the above titles we should also include an important theory concerning the Nauplius play. Among other interesting inventions, Hero of Alexandria describes in his Pneumatica (20–28) a mechanical puppet theatre where characters and objects were moved using compressed steam. It was apparently on such a contraption that

Ribbeck (1875), pp. 145ff. Wagner (1878), p. 76; Welcker (1841), p. 1257.

100 101

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Philo of Byzantium staged a play entitled Nauplius.102 It comprised five short scenes,103 separated from each other by the closing and opening of a door. The first scene showed the Greeks preparing to return home from Troy, with the puppets imitating the work of carpenters and shipwrights. The next scene showed the ships being launched. Scene three was exceptionally dynamic, with the ships sailing one after the other and dolphins jumping alongside. Then the artificial sea waves rose and the ships huddled together. In the fourth scene Nauplius appeared, holding a flaming torch, with Athena standing by his side. In the final scene the ships crashed while Ajax drifted on the waves. Then Athena would appear ex machina, and with a thunderclap, lighting would strike the drowning warrior. It is feasible that the basic ‘script’ of Philo’s puppet scenes was taken from Lycophron’s tragedy since the two men were contemporaries and the latter was the only Pleiad member known to have written a play of that title. The fact that the puppet theatre play included five scenes might also be significant, as it could have corresponded to five acts in Lycophron’s tragedy. And indeed was not such a division into acts what the theoreticians of tragedy postulate? In my opinion an important testimony is also the interesting and obscure sentence from the Suda about the Nauplius drama. There we read: διασκευὴ δ’ ἐστὶν ἐκ τούτων ὁ Ναύπλιος. διασκευή may mean the recasting104of a play and in this case it is a very adequate term for such a stage adaptation.

Alexandra The question of attribution Not without a reason in 1827 did B. G. Niebuhr call the Alexandra a grammaticalpoetic monster,105 for the poem was not only created to be obscure for its contemporary readers but even in modern times it keeps presenting scholars with serious interpretative problems and dilemmas. Paradoxically, the greatest riddle of the riddle-poem seems to be the authorship and the time of the composition, and scholars have persistently tried to answer the question for over 200 years. The reason for this problem is a statement of an ancient scholiast (perhaps Theon, who lived in the first century ad), quoted in Isaac and John Tzetzes’ Scholia to Alexandra to the verse 1226: ἐντεῦθεν περὶ Ῥωμαίων λέγει καὶ Λυκόφρονος ἑτέρου νομιστέον περὶ Ῥωμαίων ἐντεῦθεν διαλαμβάνει. The sentence was commented by the entrance of John Tzetzes himself: τὰ δὲ λοιπὰ τοῦ σχολίου γελοῖα· φασὶ γὰρ Λυκόφρονος ἑτέρου εἶναι τὸ ποίημα, οὐ τοῦ γράψαντος τὴν τραγῳδίαν·.106 But the Byzantine grammarian did not solve the problem once and for all. There are in fact two enigmatic prophecies concerning Rome and her future dominant role in the Mediterranean (vv. 1226–80 and 1446–50). For some scholars it was hard to believe that Lycophron could have predicted the rise of Orinsky, Neugebauer and Drachmann (1941), pp. 53–4. See Schnayder (1960), pp. 374–81. 104 The word is used as a technical term to denote a new edition of a piece, revised and changed. 105 Niebuhr (1827). 106 Here he talks about Romans, and one must suppose a second Lycophron here [talks] about the Romans. The remaining part of the scholion is absurd: it says that the the poem was of another Lycophron, not the one who wrote tragedies. 102 103



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the Roman Empire and its supremacy.107 B. G. Niebuhr excluded the possibility that the Alexandra was written by the famous Pleiad member and put forward a hypothesis that it was a poem of a second Lycophron, who composed it after Titus Quinctius Flamininus’ conquest of Greece and the battle of Cynoscephalae in 197 bc. Among the most prominent supporters of the idea of the second Lycophron are K. J. Beloch,108 K. Ziegler and St. Josifović109 and lately by E. Kosmetatou.110 Some scholars, including S. West,111 accept the tragic writer Lycophron to be the author of the poem but consider the Roman passages as later interpolations. First, it is important to stress that with the exception of the vague, subjective and late comment in the Scholia, no ancient testimonium questions the authorship of Lycophron. The traditional view, that the Alexandra was in fact the only extant work of the Pleiad member, was represented for instance by U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff112 and C. von Holzinger113 and it is still the prevailing opinion today. The most convincing arguments to support the traditional attribution of the Alexandra were presented by A. Momigliano.114 The latest fact alluded to in the poem is the assassination of the alleged son of Alexander the Great and Barsine, Heracles, in 309 bc (vv. 800ff.), and it is surely the terminus post quem of the composition of the Alexandra. The terminus ante quem is of course debatable, but Momigliano offered a very attractive solution. The famous tribute of two Locrian maidens to the temple of Athena in Ilium and their miserable lives of hierodoule is mentioned by Lycophron in lines 1141–73. The ritual was discontinued after the year 346 bc (the Phocian War) and undertaken again after a direct demand of the Delphic oracle by the king Antigonus Gonatas.115 Momigliano states that the passage of the Alexandra must had been composed before the restoration of the custom as the poet would no doubt mention such an extraordinary event. It is worth adding that the Scholia also state that Callimachus, in an unknown work, mentions the Locrian maidens. It is therefore very tempting to see the passage as one of many that show the inner discussions between famous poets of the age. The mutual influence between Callimachus and Lycophron is additional, internal evidence for the termini of the Alexandra.116 In modern times the discussion was undertaken first in the correspondence of C. J. Fox and G. Wakefield from the year 1800. Cf. Mair (1955), pp. 308–9; West (1984), p. 127. Cf. also Welcker (1841), pp. 1259–63. 108 Beloch (1927), p. 566. 109 Both authors of the subsequent RE entries on Lycophron, see Ziegler (1927), Josifović (1968). 110 Kosmetatou (2000), who is of the opinion that the Alexandra was composed on the Attalid court. 111 West (1984) concentrates on presenting the incoherence of style and internal purpose of the Alexandra, showing ‘the second hand’ of an interpolator. 112 Wilamowitz-Moellendorf (1883) and Wilamowitz-Moellendorf (1924), p. 143, where he is of the opinion that Lycophron was able to predict the future political situation in the Mediterranean and the supremacy of Rome already in the third century bc. 113 Holzinger (1895), pp. 71f. See also Corssen (1913), p. 321; Rollo (1928), p. 93. 114 Momigliano (1942, 1945). 115 The name of the king is known from the book of Suda (s.v. Ἐφεθέν:. ὁ δὲ βασιλεὺς Ἀντίγονος, ἐφεθέν οἱ δικάσαι, προσέταξε κλήρῳ διακριθῆναι, yet the controversy exists concerning the identity of the king, also the names of Antigonus Monophthalmus and Antigonus Doson – the last name is hardly possible in the light of so called ‘Lokrische Mädcheninschrift’: see: Wilhelm (1911); Swoboda (1913), p. 448; Momigliano (1945). On the Locrian maidens’ passage, see also West (1983), pp. 119ff. 116 See: Pfeiffer (1953), xliii; West (1984), p. 130. 107

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Figure 3.  A silver kantharos with Lycophron in front of a mask (in front of him, not visible in the picture, is Cassandra, the heroine of his most famous poem, Alexandra). Bibliothèque nationale de France. All prophecies in the Alexandra are in fact vaticinia ex eventu and therefore we have to seek an historical event, which could give reason to call Romans the rulers of the land and sea (vv. 1446–50). The battle of Beneventum (275 bc) and the retreat of Pyrrhus from Italy as well as the rising naval power of Rome fit the description of Lycophron.117 However, perhaps we should consider the Alexandra as a late work of the poet,118 possibly written during the First Punic War. Very tempting would be the year of the battle of Mylae (260 bc), in which the Romans used the corvus for the first time and were able to fight on the boarded ships using the technique of land battle. Some very convincing evidence was lately presented by A. Hurst – the famous silver kantharos representing Cassandra in front of the sitting Lycophron, belonging to See Momigliano (1945), 49f. Already Holzinginer and Rollo saw Pyrrhus as the lion of the verses 1439–41. Cf. Rollo (1928), p. 95: Lycophronem anno 283 a.C. n. ad triginta annos habuisse (…) officio bibliothecari fungentem permutos annos vivere potuisse.

117

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the Berthouville treasure.119 In the second century ad Lycophron was associated with the heroine of his most famous work, exactly like Aratus is presented with Urania and Theocritus with Thalia on cups from the same collection.

The poem The only work by Lycophron to have survived in its entirety is therefore the poem Alexandra.120 The Suda describes it as an ‘obscure poem’ and indeed in many respects it is an exceptionally unusual piece of ancient Greek literature. It comprises 1,474 verses, written in iambic trimeter, which are the report of a messenger, i.e. a monologue, relating Cassandra’s prophecies uttered the day Paris’ ships set sail from Troy. This piece stands out due to its accumulation of cryptic metaphors and peculiar manner of disguising famous characters with enigmatic names and descriptions. Such a fascinating poem deserves detailed discussion elsewhere, but here at least we should consider in what ways Alexandra relates to a tragedy. An undoubtedly dramatic feature of Alexandra is the use of rhesis angelike, and, moreover, the metre actually corresponds to that part of a tragedy.121 Indeed, the poem could basically be described as an epeisodion extended to almost 1,500 verses. This of course sounds absurd, but here the author’s intention would have been to combine two high forms of literature: tragedy and epic poetry. Thus we have a dramatic monologue which uses many expressions and phrases borrowed from Aeschylus’ Agamemnon and Euripides’ Trojan Women. On the one hand, Cassandra’s prophecies are of key importance in both tragedies, on the other, the plots of these tragedies are a fulfilment of the visions recounted in Alexandra. The choice of words and grammatical forms also clearly show this connection. Lycophron exhibits a thorough knowledge of the works of Aeschylus and Euripides and apparently expects the same from the reader.122 Yet the dramatic elements are only one aspect of the poem, equivalent to the epic elements. As with the tragedies, the author also drew on themes from the Odyssey and the Cypria. In its entirety, however, the poem abounds with expressions that are quite unique or at least extremely rare.123 The prophecy itself as the poem’s central theme is also a distinctly Hellenistic form – one that was also used by Lycophron’s colleague at the Alexandrian Library, Alexander Aetolus, who wrote an elegy based on a prophecy by Apollo. Such a ‘concoction’ of styles, genres and language used to express a quasi-tragic tale is without doubt an ingeniously devised, artistic novelty of a very Hellenistic nature. Naturally, this piece has proved very difficult to classify, or rather, bearing in mind its uniqueness, simply name for the genre. U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff calls it an iamb on account of its metre, whereas E. Ciaceri calls it an epical-lyrical monologue.124 Yet these definitions fail to address the tragic form that also appears in the poem. Thus T. Sinko’s definition of it being a ‘recited, fictional mime’ seems better, though it actually has less in common with proper, stage-performed mime than with tragedy. Hurst (2008), XVIII. See Figure 3. The modern editons: Mascialino (1964), Hurst (2008). 121 On the metre of the Alexandra see Paduano, Fusilli and Hurst (1991), pp. 9–17 122 For an exhaustive survey of tragic elements, including vocabulary, in the poem, see Cusset (2002). 123 Holzinger (1895), p. 22, cites after Scheer as many as 328 hapax eiremena in Alexandra. 124 Wilamowitz-Moellendorff (1924), p. 149; Ciaceri (1901), p. 8. 119 120

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Generally speaking, the best definition has been proposed by K. Holzinger, namely: an ‘epic monodrama’, though here we should also add ‘tragic’.125

Alexander Aetolus (TrGF 101) ANCIENT TESTIMONIA T1 TrGF 101 T1 Suda s.v. ᾿Αλέξανδρος Αἰτωλός· ἐκ πόλεως Πλευρῶνος, υἱὸς Σατύρου καὶ Στρατοκλείας, γραμματικός. οὗτος καὶ τραγῳδίας ἔγραψεν, ὡς καὶ τῶν ἑπτὰ τραγικῶν ἕνα κριθῆναι, οἵπερ ἐπεκλήθησαν ἡ Πλειάς. Alexander the Aetolian from the city of Pleuron, the son of Satyrus and Stratocleia, grammarian. He also wrote tragedies and was considered one of the seven tragedians called the Pleiad.

T2 TrGF 101 T2 Suda s.v. ῎Αρατος, Σολεὺς τῆς Κιλικίας […] γεγονὼς ἐν τῇ ρκδ′ ᾿Ολυμπιάδι, […] σύγχρονος ᾿Ανταγόρᾳ τῷ ῾Ροδίῳ καὶ ᾿Αλεξάνδρῳ τῷ Αἰτωλῷ· Aratus of Soloi in Cilicia … lived in the time of 124th Olympiad, … contemporary to Antagoras of Rhodes and Alexander of Aetolia.

T3 TrGF 101 T8 Ath. 15, 699B from Polemon (frg. 45 Pr.) ᾿Αλέξανδρος ὁ Αἰτωλὸς ὁ τραγῳδοδιδάσκαλος ποιήσας ἐλεγεῖον τρόπον τοῦτον δηλοῖ· Alexander the Aetolian, tragododidaskalos, having written an elegy, explains as follows: [Coll. Alex. frg. 5 Powell].

T4 TrGF 101 T 3 Vita Arati, p. 147/8 Maass Arati genus (= Vita 3) (olim sub auctore Theone Alexandrino Gramm. vel Theone Alexandrino Math.) (e codd. Edimburg. + Ambros. C263 p. 15). Ἀντίγονος ὁ Γονατᾶς, παρ’ ᾧ διέτριβεν […] καὶ Ἀλέξανδρος ὁ Αἰτωλός, ὡς αὐτός φησιν ὁ Ἀντίγονος ἐν τοῖς πρὸς Ἱερώνυμον. Antigonus II Gonatas, who was visited by … Alexander Aetolus, about which Antigonus himself writes in To Hieronymus. On the literary genre of the poem, see also Fountoulakis (1998).

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TrGF 101 T 4 Vita Arati, p. 78 Maass Vita Arati (= Vita 1) (olim sub auctore Achille Tatio) (e cod. Vat. gr. 191), p. 8 γέγονε δὲ Ἀντίγονος κατὰ τὴν ρκεʹ Ὀλυμπιάδα, καθ’ ὃν χρόνον ἤκμασεν ὁ Ἄρατος καὶ Ἀλέξανδρος ὁ Αἰτωλός. Antigonus lived in the time of the 125th Olympiad, during which period Aratus and Alexander Aetolus were in their prime.

TrGF 101 T 5 Vita Arati, p. 323 Maass Vita Arati (= Vita 2) (e codd. Matrit. 4691 + 4629), p. 11 συνήκμαζε δὲ Ἀλεξάνδρῳ τῷ Αἰτωλῷ καὶ Φιλητᾷ

TrGF 101 T 6 Vita Arati, p. 325 Maass Vita Arati (= Vita 4) (e codd. Matrit. 4691 + 4629; Vat. gr. 1910; Paris. gr. 2403; Scorial. Σ III 3; Palat. 40; Estensi II B14) p. 19 συνήκμασε δὲ Ἀλεξάνδρῳ τῷ Αἰτωλῷ καὶ Καλλιμάχῳ καὶ Μενάνδρῳ καὶ Φιλητᾷ Aratus was in his prime at the same time as Alexander Aetolus, Callimachus, Menander and Philetas.

Alexander of Aetolia was one of the most famous Pleiad members and is mentioned in all extant lists of the grand seven.126 The testimony from the Suda (T1) informs us that he was born in the city of Pleuron as the son of Satyrus and Stratocleia. The remaining testimonies are useful in determining when Alexander lived. He was a contemporary of Aratus of Soloi, Philetas and Callimachus as well as the monarchs Ptolemy Philadelphus and Antigonus Gonatas. Therefore we can say that he lived in the first half of the third century bc and, more accurately, he would have flourished during the 125th Olympiad, i.e. 280–276 bc. We also know that he spent most of his life in Alexandria, where King Ptolemy had appointed him to set up a catalogue of tragedies and satyr dramas at the Alexandrian Library. We therefore know that he must have been a colleague of Callimachus and Lycophron. He moved in the highest intellectual circles of the Lagid state. He was also associated with the ruling dynasty, personally knowing not only Ptolemy II, but also Antigonus Gonatas, to whose court he was invited in 276 bc. His impressively prolific literary output included elegies, epyllions and epigrams. Unfortunately, not a single piece of his poetry has survived to this day in its entirety. However, we do have some more extensive fragments from two of his elegies: Apollo and The Muses. Apollo is a collection of love stories with tragic endings, written as a pronouncement of the Oracle of Apollo in a difficult, academic style, which was typical in the Hellenistic period. The Muses takes the form of a competition among poets to write a hymn for Artemis of Ephesus. There also a few extant verses from each of two of Alexander’s epyllions: The Fisherman (Halieus) and Circe. Only very small fragments from Alexander’s other works remain. See Magnelli (1997); Magnelli (1999), pp. 9–11.

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Despite the fact that all the above cited testimonia confirm his stage productions, no fragments of his dramatic works have survived to this day. And yet the very reason why Alexander Aetolus was included in the Pleiad and, even more significantly, why he was entrusted with the cataloguing of tragedies and satyr dramas at the Alexandrian Library was above all on account of his renown as the author of stage plays. F1 Σ Hom. Il. 23, 86a1 (=Coll. Alex. 10) ἀνδροκτασίης: καταχρηστικῶς· παῖδα γὰρ ἀνεῖλεν, ὃν μὲν Κλεισώνυμον, οἱ δὲ Αἰανῆ, οἱ δὲ Λύσανδρον καλεῖσθαι. ἀπέκτεινε δὲ αὐτὸν παρὰ Ὀθρυονεῖ τῷ γραμματιστῇ, ὥς φησιν Ἀλέξανδρος ὁ Αἰτωλὸς ἐν Ἀστραγαλισταῖς ‘manslaughter’ – wrongly applied: for he had killed a boy called Cleisonymus by some, whereas others called him Aeanes or Lysander. He killed him at the home of his teacher Othryoneus, as is recorded in Alexander Aetolus’ Astragalistae (Dice Players).

Comp. Hellan. FGrH 4 F 145 (Σ Hom. Il. 12, 1) Πάτροκλος ὁ Μενοιτίου τρεφόμενος ἐν ᾽Οποῦντι τῆς Λοκρίδος περιέπεσεν ἀκουσίωι πταίσματι· παῖδα γὰρ ἡλικιώτην ᾽Αμφιδάμαντος οὐκ ἀσήμου Κλ Δαμασκηνός (…) ὥστε πρὶν γενειᾶν, εὐδόκιμος εἶναι ἐν τῇ πατρίδι καὶ τῶν ἡλίκων διαφέρειν· γραμματικῆς τε γὰρ οὐδενὸς χεῖρον ἐπεμεμέλητο καὶ δι’ αὐτὴν ποιητικῆς πάσης, αὐτός τε τραγῳδίας ἐποίει καὶ κωμῳδίας εὐδοκίμους· Nicolaus of Damascus (…) so that before he got a beard he was famous in his homeland and stood out among his peers; for he studied grammar better than anyone and because of this also the whole corpus of poetry, and he himself wrote famous comedies and tragedies.

T2 Eust. Commentarium in Dionysii Periegetae orbis descriptionem 976.52-3: καθὰ καὶ ὁ γράψας τὸ δρᾶμα τῆς Σωσάννης, οἶμαι ὁ Δαμασκηνός, ὡς ἐκ τῆς ἐπιγραφῆς φαίνεται The same thing is said by the writer of the drama Susanna,  I think it was Damaskenos, as shown in the ascription.

Similarly to another man of letters, Callimachus, Nicolaus of Damascus is recognized as the author of tragedies solely on the basis of an entry in the Suda. Nicolaus, the son of Antipater, the renowned and influential Greek governor of Coele-Syria, is chiefly famous for his 144-volume Universal History as well as diverse writings on philosophical, ethnographic and biographical themes. He was a highly educated man of many talents. Most of his life he spent at the court of Herod the Great, whom he also accompanied on many political missions. Many rulers valued him and he must have possessed considerable political insight and tact to win over not only Herod the Great, but also Agrippa, Mark Antony, Cleopatra and Octavian Augustus. Most of the information on his life and work comes from his autobiography, which he most probably wrote towards the end of his life. Large fragments of this autobiography were transcribed by the Excerpta copyists of Constantine Porphyrogenitus, as well as by the author of the Suda. Naturally, the appraisal of one’s own creativity in an autobiography is not usually a trustworthy historical source. Indeed, in the book the author is generally very positive about his own achievements, which to some extent is understandable in the case of an aged philosopher and teacher who had since youth played an active part in the court politics of Hellenistic rulers. Nevertheless, the only sentence he devotes to his writing of tragedies does actually seem very believable. According to his own account, he wrote both tragedies and comedies. The Greek adjective eudokimos, in accordance with the grammatical structure of the sentence, applies to both the tragedies and comedies. Nicolaus must have written these at the start of his literary career. This transpires from the autobiographical description of his education: he stood out among his peers and became famous before he had even grown a beard, i.e. already in his early youth. This was all thanks to his study

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of grammar, and therefore also poetry, which included comedy and tragedy. Only later (ὕστερον) did he take up other fields of study: rhetoric, music, mathematics and philosophy. Sinko points to the exceptional sense of tragedy and drama in his History and Life of Augustus.278 Indeed, his ability to dramatize a tale by selecting particularly spectacular moments in history, as well as the narrative style, reminiscent of a messenger’s report in a tragedy, can be noticed in fragments where he describes the burning of Croesus or Caesar’s famous rejection of the diadem during the Lupercalia, as well as the later murder of Caesar. Unfortunately, although these examples of his prose writing do reveal a dramatic bent, we have no other information on the tragedies that he might have written. The only extant testimony attesting to him as the author of a drama about the Biblical Susanna is a sentence from the commentary to the work of Dionysius Periegetes. Although it is almost certain that Nicolaus was writing tragedies and comedies in his early years, the Susanna play was most probably written during his stay at the court of Herod the Great. As the plot of the play was based on the story from the Book of Daniel it will be discussed in detail in the next chapter.

Aeschylus of Alexandria (TrGF 179) ANCIENT TESTIMONY T1 Ath. 13. 599 E τίς δ’ ἔστ’ ἀνάγκη δυστυχεῖν ἐν πλείοσιν, ἐξὸν σιωπᾶν κἀν σκότῳ κρύπτειν τάδε; Αἰσχύλος ἔφη ὁ ᾿Αλεξανδρεὺς ἐν ᾿Αμφιτρύωνι. οὗτος δέ ἐστιν Αἰσχύλος ὁ καὶ τὰ Μεσσηνιακὰ ἔπη συνθείς, ἀνὴρ εὐπαίδευτος. What is the need to despair among many, When one could have concealed it in silence. States Aeschylus of Alexandria in Amphitryon. The same Aeschylus who wrote the epic Messeniaca, a very learned man.

The above fragment is the only extant source regarding the tragic writing of Aeschylus of Alexandria.279 Athenaeus states that apart from Amphitryon, Aeschylus of Alexandria also wrote the epic poem Messeniaca. He adds that this was a learned man. Here we are forced to concede that we cannot ascertain whether Amphitryon was a tragedy or a satyr drama, and the two-line fragment is too short to be of any use in answering this question. It is maybe interesting that a play entitled Amphitryon was also written by Sophocles and thus Aeschylus of Alexandria may have been emulating this classical drama.

Sinko (1948), 122 See Crusius (1893), pp. 1084–5, He may be also the author of a work on proverbs (Περὶ παροιμιῶν) quoted by Zenobius the Sophist (5.85) in the section on sardonic laughter, see Schmitz (1867), p. 44.

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Other tragedians mentioned in inscriptions Athens Astydamas (TrGF 96) A tragic author by the name of Astydamas, which was also the name of two other tragedians who lived in the fourth century bc (TrGF 59 and TrGF 60), appears on an inscription from 278–277 bc, preserved in two copies, one in Delphi and the other in Athens (FD III 2 68, 61–93 and IG II2 1132, respectively): δόγμα ἀρχαῖον Ἀμφικτιό||νων. ἐπὶ Ἱέρωνος ἄρχοντος ἐν Δελφοῖς, πυλαίας ἐαρινᾶς,|| ἱερομναμονούντων Θεσσαλῶν Ἱπποδάμα, Λέοντος, Αἰ||τωλῶν Λυκέα, Δωριμάχου, Βοιωτῶν Ἀσώπωνος, Διονυσί||δου, Φωκέων Εὐφρέα, Χαρέα· vacat? ἔδοξεν τοῖς Ἀμφικτί||οσιν καὶ τοῖς ἱερομνάμοσιν καὶ τοῖς ἀγορατροῖς, ὅπω[ς] || ἦι εἰς πάντα χρόνον ἀσυλία καὶ ἀτέλεια τοῖς τεχνί||ταις τοῖς ἐν Ἀθήναις […] πρέσσβει[ς· Ἀστυδάμας] || [π]οιητὴς τραγωιδιῶν, Νεοπτόλεμος [τραγωιδός].

From this inscription we learn that Astydamas was appointed to the honorary post of the deputy sent to Delphi to be informed of the decision to grant Athenian technitai ἀσυλία καὶ ἀτέλεια (inviolability and immunity) in the Amphictyony. He was a writer of tragedies and it seems it was for achievements in this field he that earned himself the above distinction. He must have also held an important position in the technitai guild. Unfortunately nothing else is known about him.

Phanostratus of Halicarnassus (TrGF 94) Phanostratus, the son of Heraclides, came from Halicarnassus (IG II2 2794 Φανόστρατον Ἡρακλείδου || ὁ δῆμος ὁ Ἁλικαρνασσέων || ἀνέθηκεν) and lived at the turn of the third century bc. He was the author of tragedies who before 306 bc had even won a competition in Athens (perhaps during the Lenaia – IG II2 3073 ὁ δῆμος ἐ[χορήγει ἐπ’ Ἀναξι]κράτους ἄρχοντος. || ἀγωνοθέ[της Ξενοκλῆς Ξ]είνιδος Σφήττιος. || ποιητὴς τραγωιδοῖς ἐνίκα [Φανόστρατο]ς Ἡρακλείδου Ἁλικαρνασσεύς). In recognition of his achievements he was granted a proxenia in Delos (IG XI 4, 528 [ἔδο]ξε[ν τῆι βουλῆι καὶ τῶι] || [δήμ]ωι· Ἀχ[αιὸς Φανοδίκου?] || [εἶπε]ν· ἐπειδὴ [Φανόστρατος] || [Ἡρα]κλείδου Ἁ[λικαρνασσεὺς] || [ἀνὴρ] ἀγαθός ἐ[στι περὶ τὸ ἱερ]||ὸν καὶ τὸν δῆμ[ον τὸν Δηλί]||[ω]ν· δεδόχθαι [τῶι δήμωι· εἶναι Φ]||ανόστρατον πρόξενον [Δηλίων…). Not a single fragment of his work has survived, nor is there any mention of it in ancient literature. Nevertheless evidence of numerous literary successes is testified not only in inscription IG II2 2794 and on a statue plinth found in Athens, but also in the fact that his name appears on the list of outstanding sons of Halicarnassus in the inscription Pride of Halicarnassus. δμῶα Διωνύσου Φανόστρατον ἔσχεν ἀοιδόν Κεκροπιδῶν ἱεροῖσ ἁβρὸν ἐνὶ στεφάνοις, (v. 51)

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Phanostratos, a poet delighting in the sacred garlands of the sons of Kekrops 280

The fact that this inscription was created some 150 years after Phanostratus’ presumed lifetime is evidence that his work must have been hugely popular among his compatriots for at least a few generations. The author of Pride of Halicarnassus rather curiously describes Phanostratus as Κεκροπιδῶν ἱεροῖς ἁβρὸν ἐνὶ στεφάνοις. This was most probably simply a metonymic way to describe tragic drama, which after all had originated from Attica. However, it may also have been used to emphasize the fact that Phanostratus had indeed been successful in Athens, the most important place in the development of this genre.

[An]tiphilus (TrGF 95) A fragment of this name appears on a partially preserved inscription from the beginning of the third century bc stating the winner of a tragic agon: IG II2 3076 [ποιητὴς τραγωιδοῖς ἐνίκα Ἀν]τίφιλος Α — — — — — —). As we can see, even the first two letters of the name had to be reconstructed, and this name is not associated with any other known author of that period.

Phrynichus II (TrGF 212) Suda s.v. Φρύνιχος, Μελανθᾶ, ᾿Αθηναῖος, τραγικός. ἔστι δὲ τῶν δραμάτων αὐτοῦ καὶ τάδε· ᾿Ανδρομέδα, ᾿Ηριγόνη. ἐποίησε καὶ Πυρρίχας. Phrynichus, the son of Melanthios, an Athenian and a tragedian. His dramatic works include: Andromeda and Erigone. He also wrote [the play] Pyrrichai.

The only testimony referring to this author of an unknown epoch is found in the Suda. However, appearing on a 278 bc list of tragic poet agon victors (IG II2 2325) are the initial letters of a name Φρ … (see TrGF 108), which could be part of the name Phrynichus. If this is indeed the Phrynichus mentioned in the testimony, then he would have won a competition during the Dionysia before 278 bc. The Suda mentions two of his tragic plays: Andromeda and Erigone. The work Pyrrichai must have therefore belonged to a different literary genre.

Xenocrates (TrGF 122) The name of the poet Xenocrates of the Kydantidai deme appears on a third-century honorific inscription (IG II2 3211). There the Athenian technitai association (τὸ κοινὸν τῶν τεχνιτῶν) crown him with a wreath (corona hederacea) and the following words: [Ξενοκράτην || Κυδαν||τίδην || ποιητὴν || τραγωι||διῶν]. On the 278 bc list of Trans. Lloyd-Jones (1999a), p. 3.

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poets who had won tragic agones (IG II2 2325) appears the initial Ξ (see TrGF 111), which could be the first letter of the name Xenocrates. If these two persons are the same, then our Xenocrates would have won an agon before 278 bc.

Menelaus of Piraeus (?), son of Ariston (TrGF 137) Menelaus, the son of Ariston, most probably came from Piraeus and as a tragic poet was awarded many distinctions. He is listed as one of those laying offerings during the Ptolemaia (Rhomaia) before 148–147 bc (IG II2 2 1938, 1–4, 46: ἐπὶ Λυσιάδου ἄρχοντος οἵδε ἱεροποίησαν|| Ῥωμαῖα || Χρύσιππος ἐξ Οἴου Σμικυθίων Ἀναγυράσιος || Πτολεμαῖα […]Μενέλαος Πειραιεύς).

He was a deputy of the technitai association in Athens and in that capacity he was named in the honorary decree for the king Ariarathes V of Cappadocia (163–139 bc) and queen Nysa: IG II2 1 1330, 66-72 [πρέσβεις εἱ[ρέθησαν]· || Μενέλαος ποιητὴς τραγικός, Θεόδοτος κιθ[αρωιδός — — — — — — — —] vacat spatium unius versus ἔδοξεν τοῖς περὶ τὸν Διόνυσον τε[χνίταις]· || ἐπειδὴ βασίλισσα Νῦσα βασιλέως [— — — — — — — —, γυνὴ δὲ βασι]||λέως Ἀριαράθου, εὔνους ὑπάρχει τ[ῶι δήμωι τῶι Ἀθηναίων καὶ τῶι κοι]||νῶι τῶν περὶ τὸν Διόνυσον τεχνιτ[ῶν — — — — — — — — — — —] || [π]ρεσβευταὶ οἵ τε παρὰ τοῦ δήμου ἀ[πεσταλμένοι τοῦ Ἀθηναίων καὶ τῆς συνόδου] || τῶν τεχνιτῶν ἀπομαρτυροῦσ[ι]ν ΗΙ — — — — — — — — — — — — —].

Around the year 127 bc the Athenian technitai delegated him as their theoros to Delphi (FD III 2, 47, 8: καὶ ἐξαπέστειλε ἀρχιθέ[ωρ]ο[ν] || μὲν Ἡρακλείδην Γλαυκίου, θεωροὺς δὲ […] Μενέλαον Ἀρίστωνος). His career is evidence of the high social standing a tragic poet could enjoy in that period. No fragments of his literature have survived to this day.

Aristomenes, son of Aristomenes, Athenian (TrGF 145) Aristomenes was an author of tragedies and satyr dramas whose name appears several times on the inscription SIG3 711L=BE 1940.60=FD III 2:48, dating from before 97 bc: Ἀριστομένην {Ἀριστομ[έν]ην} Ἀριστομένεος τρ[αγικὸν] ποητάν, Ἀγαθοκλῆν Σωκράτους κ[ωμῳδόν], || Ἀρίστωνα Μενελάου [τραγι]κὸν ποητάν,].

From it we learn only that he was the son of Aristomenes and came from Athens. Obviously, he was also a member of the technitai association in Attica as his name appears on the association’s honorific inscription from the Athenian Treasury in Delphi. Nothing else is known regarding his works.

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Ariston, son of Menelaus, Athenian (TrGF 146) Ariston, whose name, like that of the previous author, is known only from the inscription SIG3 711L=BE 1940.60=FD III 2.48, dating from before 97 bc, was most probably the son of another tragic poet, Menelaus (TrGF 137), as the poet Menelaus had a father who was also called Ariston. From the inscription we know that he wrote both tragedies and satyr dramas, but we have no other information regarding his work. Perhaps this Ariston was the same as the one Diogenes Laertius cites (7, 164) after Demetrius of Magnesia, the biographer of poets with the same names: [᾿Αρίστων […] τέταρτος ποιητὴς τραγῳδίας]. It cannot be ruled out that as a young boy he took part in the Athenian Pythiad to Delphi, since on the 138 bc inscription we have the end of a first name and a patronymic which could be attributed to him: SIG3 696B+FD III 2,11,1: [ἐ]πὶ Τιμοκρ[ίτ]ου ἄρχοντος ἐν Δ[ελφοῖς], Ἀθήνησι [δὲ Τιμάρχου, οἵ]||[δ]ε ἀπεστά[λησ]αν ὑπὸ τοῦ δήμου τ[οῦ Ἀθ]ηναίων πυ[θ]αϊσ[τ]αὶ [παῖ]||[δ]ες, συν[πέμψ]αντες τὴν Πυθαΐδ[α· […]— — —ων Μενελάου.

Diogenes, son of Diogenes (TrGF 148) Diogenes, the son of Diogenes, is yet another author known only from the honorific inscription of the Athenian technitai association found in the Athenian Treasury at Delphi (SIG3 711L=BE 1940.60=FD III 2.48). Unlike the two other authors mentioned in this inscription, he wrote satyr dramas only.

Dionysius, son of Cephisodorus, Athenian (TrGF 149) Dionysius of Athens, the son of Cephisodorus, wrote satyr dramas. His name appears only on one inscription, namely the above mentioned SIG3 711L=BE 1940.60=FD III 2.48) honorific inscription of Athenian technitai at Delphi. Nothing else is known about this writer of satyr dramas.

Antiochus, son of Antiochus, Athenian (TrGF 150) Antiochus of Athens, the son of Antiochus, was one of the tragedians mentioned on the honorific inscription SIG3 711L=BE 1940.60=FD III 2.48) of Athenian technitai at Delphi. Apart from this testimony, there is no other information on his subject.

Apollonius, son of Callistratus, Athenian (TrGF 151) Like the previous author, Apollonius, the son of Callistratus is known on the basis of only one inscription (SIG3 711L=BE 1940.60=FD III 2.48). He wrote only tragedies. There is no other information on his life and work. We can only say that he came from Athens and was a member of that city’s technitai association.



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Silenus (TrGF 153) All that is known about Silenus is found in a catalogue of tragedies from Piraeus, c. 100 bc, which also includes the beginning of the title of one of his plays: IG II2 2363 [A 17-18], — — — — — ς· Σιληνοῦ Χρυ||[σ — — — ].

There is no other information regarding this tragedian. All that can be said about the extant play title fragment, [Χρυ[σ …], is that it was most probably a tragedy. On account of the dating of the inscription, we know that Silenus must have lived at the turn of the first century bc.

[…]enodorus (TrGF 154) The same catalogue contains a fragment of the name of another tragedian: IG II2 2363 [A 18]; [–— — — η]νοδώρου Φοῖνιξ. The initial letters of the name are very difficult to identify since its known ending, … νοδώρος, could belong to a large number of Greek names. The most popular of these would be: Zenodorus, Athenodorus and Menodorus. The author whose name fragment and complete play title appear on the same inscription as the tragedian Silenus must have also lived at the turn of the first century bc. The cited title of his play is Phoenix.

Thrasycles, son of Archicles, Athenian (TrGF 177) Preserved from the very end of the Hellenistic epoch (c. 26–25 or 22–21 bc), a Delphic inscription bestows on the honorary Athenian hieromnemon, Thrasycles, son of Archicles, a proxenos SIG3 772=SGDI 2729=FD III 2:67.I: ἄρχον[τος ἐ]ν Ἀθ[ήν]αις Ἀρχιτίμ[ου, τῶι] ἱερομνήμονι Θρασυκλ[ε]ῖ Ἀρχικλέους Ἀθηναίωι Λακιάδηι. ἐπειδὴ Θρασυκλῆς Ἀρχικλέος Ἀθηναῖος || [ὁ ἱερομνήμων, ἐπιδα]μήσας ἐν τὰν πόλιν ἁμῶν, τάς [τε] θυσίας τὰς ὑπὲρ τοῦ δάμου τοῦ Ἀθαναίων ἔθυσε κὰτ τὰ πάτρια, τάν τε παρεπι||[δαμίαν ἐποιή]σατο καλὰν καὶ εὐσχήμονα, τοῦ τε ἀγῶ[νος] τῶν Πυθίων συντελειμένου, ἔκρινεν εὐσεβῶς καὶ δικαίως, εὐνόως τε τυγχάνει || [διακεί]μενος τὰ ποτὶ τὰν πόλιν ἁμῶν, ἀγωνισάμεν[ός τ]ε ἐν τᾷ ἰδίᾳ πατρίδι τραγῳδίᾳ καινῇ, καὶ νικάσας, ἐστεφάνωσε τὸν δᾶμον ἁ||[μ]ῶν· ἀγαθᾶι τύχαι· δεδόχθαι τᾶι πόλει τῶν Δε[λφῶ]ν ἐπαινέσαι Θρασυκλῆν Ἀρχικλέος Ἀθηναῖον τὸν ἱερομνάμονα, καὶ δεδόσθαι αὐ||τῷ, παρὰ τᾶς πόλιος, αὐτῷ καὶ ἐκγόνοις, προξενίαν, [πρ]ομαντείαν, προδικίαν, ἀσυλίαν, ἀτέλειαν, γᾶς καὶ οἰκίας ἔνκτησιν,|| προεδρίαν ἐμ πᾶσιν τοῖς ἀγώνοις οἷς ἁ πόλις τίθ[ητ]ιν, καὶ τἄλλα τίμια ὅσα καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις προξένοις καὶ εὐερταις ὑπάρχει, || ἀναγράψαι δὲ τόδε τὸ ψάφισμα ἐν τῶι ἱερῷ τοῦ Ἀπ[ό]λλωνος τοῦ Πυθίου. ἄρχοντος Ἀντιγένους τοῦ Ἀρχία, μηνὸς Ἡρακλείου, [βου]||[λευόν]των Φιλλέα τοῦ Δαμένεος, Ἀθανίωνος τοῦ Κλ[εοξ]ενίδα.

From this inscription it transpires that Thrasycles was more than once in Delphi, where he held the religious post of hieromnemon, and was known in Athens as the author of tragedies. From the phrase ἀγωνισάμεν[ός τ]ε ἐν τᾷ ἰδίᾳ πατρίδι τραγῳδίᾳ

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καινῇ we learn that he successfully competed in competitions concerning new tragic plays. We have no other detailed information on his life and work.

Argos Sostratus of Chalcis (TrGF 161) A list of artists attending the Heraia in Argos from the first century bc (c. 100 bc or sometime between 90 and 80 bc) mentions a tragic poet called Sostratus of Chalcis, the son of Athenion (G. Vollgraff, Mnemosyne 47(1919) p. 252, 25=BCH 107,1983.376– 383=SEG Pel 33:290 b 31–32) τραγωιδῶν ποιητὴς Σώστρατος Ἀθηνίωνος Χαλκιδεύς). He belonged to the technitai association in Athens. Apart from this reference on the list, nothing else is known about this poet.281

Oropos From Boeotian Oropos we have extant lists of winners of various agones, including dramatic agones. The inscriptions are from the first century bc (sometime after 87 bc). IG VII 420.1–4. 23–4. 29–0: ἄρχοντος Φιλιστίδου, ἱερέως δὲ τοῦ Ἀμφια||ράου Ἑρμαιώνδου, ἀγωνοθετοῦντος τὰ Ἀμφι[α]||ρᾷα καὶ Ῥω{ι}μαῖα Εὐβιότου τοῦ Δημογέν[ου],|| οἵδε ἐνίκων· ποιητὴς σατύρων || Φιλοξενίδης Φιλίππου Ὠρώπιος […] τραγωιδίας καινῆς ποιητής || Πρώταρχος Ἀντιμένους Θηβαῖος IG VII 416,1–2. 21–4. 27–8 [ἄρχοντος — — — — — —, ἱερέως] δὲ τοῦ Ἀμφιαράου Ἀλεξιδήμου τοῦ [Θεοδώρου, ἀγωνοθετοῦντος] || [τῶν Ἀμφιαρᾴων καὶ Ῥωμαίων Ἀλ]εξιδήμου τοῦ Δημοφῶντος, [οἵδε ἐνίκων]· […] ποιητὴς σατύρων || Ἡρακλίδης Ἡρακλείδου Ἀθηναῖος τραγῳδός || Ἐπίνικος Ἀλεξάνδρου Ἀθηναῖος […] ποιητὴς τραγῳδίας || Ἑρμοκράτης Ἀλεξάνδρου Μιλήσιος IG VII 419.1–6. 25–8 ἄρχοντος ἐν Ὠρωπῷ Λυσιμένου || τοῦ Φιλίππου, ἱερέως δὲ τοῦ || Ἀμφιαράου Εὐκράτου τοῦ || Φίλωνος, ἀγωνοθετοῦντος || τῶν Ἀμφιαρᾴων καὶ Ῥωμαίων || Εὐφάνου τοῦ Ζωΐλου, οἵδε ἐνίκων· σατύρων ποιητής || Κάλλιππος Κάλλωνος Θηβαῖος ποιητὴ{τη}ς τραγῳδιῶν || Λυσίστρατος Μνασέου Χαλκιδεύς

See Sifakis (1967), p. 143; as well as IArgiv., and G. Vollgraff., Mnemosyne 47 (1919), p. 254.

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Heraclides, son of Heraclides, Athenian (TrGF 166) Heraclides, son of Heraclides, mentioned in the inscription (IG VII 416), came from Athens and was the author of satyr dramas. At the start of the first century bc he won victories at the Amphiaraia and Rhomaia in Oropos. His name appears only on this inscription.

Hermocrates, son of Alexander, Miletean (TrGF 167) The same inscription (IG VII 416) bears information concerning Hermocrates of Miletus, the son of Alexander. Hermocrates wrote tragedies and won competitions at the same festivals as Heraclides. And, as in Heraclides’ case, there is no other information regarding this author.

Callippus, son of Callonus, Theban (TrGF 168) Some time after 87 bc, also during the Amphiaraia and Rhomaia festivals in Oropos, Callippus the son of Callonus, from Thebes presented his own satyr dramas. All this information, as well as the fact that his play won a competition, is recorded in the inscription (IG VII 419). Nothing else is known about this author.

Lysistratus, son of Mnaseus, from Chalcis (TrGF 169) During the same competition in which Callippus was awarded for his satyr play (i.e. some time after 87 bc) Lysistratus of Chalcis, the son of Mnaseus, won a prize for his tragedy. On the inscription (IG VII 419) his name appears immediately below that of the author of satyr plays. As in the case of all the other above-listed authors, nothing else is known about Lysistratus.

Philoxenides, son of Philip, from Oropos (TrGF 170) Philoxenides of Oropos, the son of Philip, was yet another author of satyr plays to win an award at the Amphiaraia and Rhomaia in Oropos, the town he actually represented. Apart from the inscription (IG VII 420), no other ancient source mentions him.

Protarchus, son of Antimenus, Theban (TrGF 171) The same inscription (IG VII 420) mentions another author who won an award for a tragedy, namely Protarchus of Thebes, the son of Antimenus. The phrase [τραγωιδίας καινῆς ποιητής] leaves us in no doubt that he was the author of a new tragedy, and that for this tragedy he won a prize at the Amphiaraia and Rhomaia.

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Aminias, son of Democleus, Theban (TrGF 164) Aminias of Thebes, the son of Democleus, was a universally talented writer. The Oropos inscription (created some time after 87 bc) which lists the victors at the Amphiaraia states that he had won agones in two literary competitions: IG VII 419,13–16 ἐνκωμίῳ ἐπικῷ || Ἀμινίας Δημοκλέους Θηβαῖος || ἐπῶν ποιητάς || Ἀμινίας Δημοκλέους Θηβαῖος.

On a different inscription from Orchomenus (start of the first century bc) we can read that he had won agones at the Charitesia: IG VII 3197.1–2. 9–10. 24–25 οἵδε ἐνίκων τὸν ἀγῶνα τῶν Χαρι||τησίων· […] ποητὴς ἐπῶν || Ἀμινίας Δημοκλέους Θηβαῖος […] ποητὴς σατύρων || Ἀμινίας Δημοκλέους Θηβαῖος

On the basis of this we know that one of his areas of activity was writing satyr plays. Apart from what these two inscriptions tell us, we have no further information regarding this author.

Tanagra Similarly to Oropos, lists of Sarapeia festival winners have survived from another Boeotian town, Tanagra. These are two inscriptions from the first century bc: one dated to the years 100–70 bc and the other to some time after 87 bc. 1. IG VII 540.1–2. 11–12 [Γλ]αύκου τοῦ Βουκάττου οἵδε ἐνίκων τὸν ἀγῶνα τ[ῶν] || Σαραπιείων· […] [σ]ατύρων ποιητής· Ἀλέξανδρος Γλαύκου Ταναγραῖος τραγῳδιῶν ποιητής· Ἀσκληπιάδης Ἱκεσίου Θηβαῖος IG VII 540 + SEG 19, 335; 25, 501 Αλεξάνδρ[ωι σα]τύρων ποιητῆι στέφανον, ἀπὸ χρυσῶν γ’καὶ τετραβώλου ἡμιωβελίου· καὶ Ἀθηνί [αι ( vel – ωνι)] Νικάρχοι Ἀνθηδονιωνι δευτερεῖον ἀττικοῦ μ´. Ἀσκληπιάδηι τραγωιδιῶν ποιητῆι στέφανον, ἀπὸ χρυσῶν δ/´· καὶ Ποπλίῳ Ποπλίου Ῥωμαίῳ δευτερεῖον ἀττικοῦ [μ´]. Ασκληπιάδηι τραγῳδιῶν ποιητῆι τὸν ἐπινίκιον στέφανον, ἀπὸ χρυσῶν ε´ καὶ ἡμίχους, καὶ ὀβολοῦ ἡμιωβελίου 2. IG VII 543.1–6 Εἴρανος Φρυνίδου || Ταναγραῖος [τρ]α̣γῳδούς· || Εἴρανος Φρυ[νί]δου || Ταναγραῖος ποιητά[ς]· || Δωρόθεος [Πυθί]ππου || Χαλκιδε[ύς τοῦ ἐπι]νικίου·



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Alexander, son of Glaucus, Tanagrian (TrGF 159) The aforementioned IG VII 540 inscription informs us of Alexander, the son of Glaucus, who was the author of satyr plays and winner of the golden wreath at the Sarapeia of Tanagra, his home town. We have no further information regarding this playwright.

Asclepiades II, son of Hicesius, of Athens (TrGF 140) Inscription IG VII 540 mentions Asclepiades, son of Hicesius of Thebes, the author of a tragedy and an epinikion (for which he was awarded two golden wreaths at the Sarapeia). His name also appears on other epigraphic documents. In the latter cases he is described as an Athenian, which could cast doubt on the opinion of Snell and Kannicht that this was the same author. Nevertheless, this view is supported by the fact that distinguished individuals were sometimes citizens of more than one polis. Artefacts from Delphi recording him as a hieromnemon include a honorific inscription dated c. 125 bc (IG II2 1134, FD III 2, 69,1.3.23–4: [ἄρχοντος ἐν Δελφοῖ]ς Εὐκλείδου το[ῦ Κα]λλείδο[υ, πυλαίας μεθοπ]ωρινῆς […] παρὰ δὲ Ἀθηναίων Ἀσκληπιάδου τοῦ Ἱκεσίου, […][ψήφισμά τε κ]αὶ πρεσβευτάς. [τόν] τε ἱερέα τ[οῦ Δ]ιονύσου Ἀσκληπιάδην Ἱκεσίου τραγικὸν ποιητήν, καὶ μετ’ αὐτοῦ Πολ[ύ]|[στρατον Ἀλεξί]ωνος ἐπῶν ποιη[τήν, κ]αὶ Θρ[ασυμή]δην Δημοσθένους ἐπῶν ποιητήν), and a catalogue of priests from before 117 bc (SIG3 826 B II 2=FD III 4, 277 Ἀθηναίων· Ἀσκληπιάδης] || Ἱκεσίου Ἀ̣[θηναῖ]ος ἱερομ[νήμων). He is mentioned as a Dionysian priest in an Attic inscription from 100–99 bc, and in another inscription as a deputy to Delphi, IG II2 2336, 122: [ἱερ]εὺς Διο[νύσου] || Ἀσκληπιά[δης Ἁλαιε]ὺς. Equally interesting evidence is found on an Athenian silver tetradrachm from 135–134 bc bearing the names Ἱκέσιος and Ἀσκληπιάδης, i.e. the tragedian and his father. The above inscriptions are proof of Asclepiades’ political importance, while the only trace of his literary success is a catalogue of tragedies originally found in Piraeus: IG II2 2363 [νος — — —] Ἀσκληπιάδου || — — — — — ς·

Dorotheus of Chalcis (TrGF 160) There is some uncertainty as to whether Dorotheus, the son of Pythippos, was a tragic poet. In this respect inscription IG VII 543 is quite difficult to interpret. However, there can be no doubt that he was a victor at the Sarapeia, and perhaps he was also the brother of another playwright, Gorgippus of Chalcis.

Atheni[as] of Anthedon (TrGF 162) Atheni[as] of Anthedon, the son of Nicarchus, is mentioned in inscription IG VII 540+ SEG 19, 335; 25, 501 as winning a financial reward for coming second in a satyr play agon. Unfortunately, we have no other information regarding this author and his work.

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Publius the Roman (TrGF 163) The above-mentioned IG VII 540+ SEG 19, 335; 25, 501 inscription also mentions Publius, the son of Publius, called the Roman, as the author of a tragedy that came second in a competition and for which also he was awarded money. There is no other information regarding Publius, but it is interesting that in Hellenistic times a Roman citizen, probably a native of Italy, should write tragedies in the Greek language and, as the inscription states, that such tragedies should even be popular enough to succeed in competitions.

Akraiphia A similar inscription from first century bc Akraiphia in Boeotia also lists the winners of tragedy and satyr play competitions. IG VII 2727.1–6. 20–1, 25–6 Ἀντίου ἄρχοντος, ἀγνοθετοῦν[τος] || Ποπλίου Κορνηλίου τοῦ Ποπλίου υἱοῦ [Ῥω]||μαίου τῶν τριετήρων Σωτηρίων πρῶ[τον] || ἀπὸ τοῦ πολέμου, ἱερατεύοντος δὲ το[ῦ Δι]||ὸς τοῦ Σωτῆρος Θεομνήστου τοῦ Παρα||μόνου, οἵδε ἐνίκων· […] π[οιη]τὴ[ς σατύ]ρων || Γόργιππος Πυ[θίππ]ου Χαλκιδεύς […] ποιητὴς τραγῳδιῶν || Διογένης Θεοδότου Θηβαῖος

Gorgippus of Chalcis (TrGF 175) Gorgippus of Chalcis, the son of Pythippos, was the author of a satyr play and a winner at the Soteria in Akraiphia. His name is only known from the above-cited inscription. Gorgippus’ patronymic suggests that he could be the brother of Dorotheus of Chalcis.

Diogenes of Thebes, son of Theodotus (TrGF 176) Diogenes of Thebes, son of Theodotus, was the author of tragedies. Like the aforementioned Gorgippus of Chalcis, he was victorious during the same Soteria, and his name is mentioned in the inscription immediately below that of the satyr play author. There is no other information regarding Diogenes of Thebes.

Thebes […]kles (?) of Thebes, son of Athenodorus (?) On the inscription found in 2003 in Boeotian Thebes, we can read the partially preserved name of a hitherto unknown poet of satyr plays.282 The editio princeps of the inscription (D. Knoepfler, ‘Les Rômaia de Thèbes : un nouveau concours musical (et athlétique) en Béotie’, CRAI (2004), pp. 1241–79) records his name as […]κλης [Ἀ] For obvious reasons not mentioned in Snell’s edition of TrGF.

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θ[ηνο?]δώρου Θηβαῖος (l. 20), ποιητὴς σατύρων (l.19). We do not know anything about this author except the fact that he was active circa the beginning of the first century bc and won the contest of satyr play during the Rhomaia at Thebes.283

Magnesia on the Maeander Theodorus, son of Dionysius (TrGF 134) D.L. 2, 104: (Θεόδωροι δὲ γεγόνασιν εἴκοσι·) εἰκοστὸς ποιητὴς τραγῳδίας. (there were twenty by the name of Theodorus) the twentieth was a tragic poet.

The above-cited tragic poet may be identified as Theodorus, the son of Dionysius, known from an inscription found in Magnesia on the Maeander and dated sometime between 150 and 100 bc. (IMagn 88a=Magn. Caria 145, 2. 1, 3–4. 3, 3–5) στεφανηφοροῦντος Ἀπολλοδώρου ἀγωνοθετούντων Εὐανδρίδου τοῦ Εὐανδρίδου, Μανδροδώρου || τοῦ Κλεαίνου, Ἀπολλοδώρου τοῦ Λεοντέως οἵδε ἐνίκων τὸν ἀγῶνα τῶν Ῥωμαίων ποιηταὶ καινῶν δραμάτων· || τραγωιδιῶν· || Θεόδωρος Διονυσίου δράματι Ἐρμιόνηι […] σατύρων· || Θεόδωρος Διονυσίου || δράματι Θύτηι

This was the author of both tragedies and satyr plays. During the Rhomaia in his hometown he won awards for his tragedy Hermione, as well as for a satyr play entitled Thytes. His double victory during the same festival as well as being mentioned by Diogenes indicates that this was a well-known tragedian. Unfortunately, we have no more information regarding this author. *** IMagn 88b=Magn. Caria 146.1–3. 1, 4–5. 3, 4–5 στεφανηφοροῦντος vacat Σωκράτου ἀγωνοθετούντων Διαγόρου τοῦ Δημητρίου,|| Διονυσάρχου τοῦ Λάμπωνος, Γεροντίδου τοῦ Γεροντίδου οἵδε ἐνίκων τὸν ἀγῶνα || τῶν Ῥωμαίων ποιηταὶ καινῶν δραμάτων· || τραγῳδιῶν· Γλαύκων Γλαύκωνος || Ἐφέσιος, […] σατύρων· || Πολέμων Νέωνος.

Glaucon, son of Glaucon, of Ephesus (TrGF 135) Glaucon was the author of a tragedy presented and awarded in Magnesia during the Rhomaia, sometime after the agones mentioned in inscription IMagn=Magn Caria 145, which are dated to have occurred after 150 bc. Apart from this inscription, there is no mention of such an author in any epigraph or other item of literature.

See p. 269f. of this book.

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Polemon (TrGF 136) Polemon was the author of a satyr play that won a prize during the same Rhomaia at Magnesia in which Glaucon was awarded. Similar to Glaucon’s case, no other information is available about this author.

Polemaius, son of Diodorus, of Ephesus (TrGF 155) IMagn 88c=Magn. Caria 147.1–5 Δημητρίου. vacat στεφανηφοροῦντος Ἀττάλου ἀγωνοθετούντ[ων] || Κλεαίνου τοῦ Κλεαίνου οἵδε ἐνίκων ἐν τῶ̣ ἀγῶνι || τραγωιδιῶν· || Πολεμαῖος Διοδώρου Ἐφέσιος || δράματι Κλυταιμήστρᾳ IMagn 88d=Magn. Caria 148.1–2. 2,3–5 Εὐκλείους τοῦ Ἀριστοκράτους, Εὐανδρίδου τοῦ Εὐανδρίδου || [τῶν] Ῥωμαίων ποιηταί· σατύρων· || Πολεμαῖος Διοδώρου Ἐφέσιος || δράματι vacat Αἴαντι.

Polemaius of Ephesus, the son of Diodorus, was the author of both tragedies and satyr plays. During successive Rhomaia held in Magnesia he was awarded for his tragedy Clytemnestra as well as for his satyr play Aias. He was the second playwright, after Theodorus, to win prizes in both categories during the Rhomaia.

Harmodius, son of Asclepiades, of Tarsus (TrGF 156) IMagn 88c=Magn. Caria 149. 1–6 [ἀγωνοθ]ετούντων δὲ Ῥωμαῖα || [.c.6.. τ]οῦ Ὀνήσονος οἵδε ἐνίκων· || σατύρων ποιητὴς || Ἁρμόδιος Ἀσκληπιάδου || Ταρσεὺς δράματι || Πρωτεσιλάῳ.

Harmodius of Tarsus, the son of Asclepiades, was the author of satyr plays. During the Rhomaia he was awarded for his satyr play Protesilaus. There is no other information regarding this author.

Theodotus (TrGF 157) IMagn 88g=Magn. Caria 151. 1-4 σατύρω[ν·] || Θεύδο[τος] || δ[ρ]άμα[τ]ι || Παλαμήδῃ.

Another of the authors mentioned in inscriptions to have won a prize during the Rhomaia for a satyr drama was Theodotus. Apart from the fact that he won the prize for a play entitled Palamedes, we have no further information regarding him.



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Ar]istaen[etus (TrGF 158) Appearing on a very fragmentarily preserved inscription listing the winners of Rhomaia are letters on the basis of which the name of Aristaenetus, an unknown tragedian, could be reconstructed (IMagn 88ik=Magn Caria 140-141 [ἀγωνοθετού] ντ[ων —] || [Ῥωμαίων] πο[ιηταὶ —] || [Ἀρ]ισταίν[ετος] || [Πόλ]λιδος

Iasos IIasos 153.1–13=Iasos Caria 73.1: [ἔδο]ξεν τῆι βουλῆι· βασιλεὺς Σωσιφάνης Σωφάνους εἶπε[ν·] || [ἐπ]ειδὴ Δύμας ποητὴς τραγωιδιῶν ἀεί τι λέγων καὶ γράφων || [κ]α̣ὶ πράττων ἀγαθὸν διατελεῖ ὑπὲρ τοῦ ἱεροῦ καὶ τῆς πόλε[ως] || [κ]αὶ τῶν πολιτῶν, ἡ δὲ βουλὴ προβεβούλευκεν αὐτῶι περὶ ἐ[παίνου] || καὶ στεφάνου καὶ πολιτείας· ἀγαθῆι τύχηι· δεδόχθα[ι τῶι] || δήμωι· ἐπαινέσαι Δύμαντα ἐπὶ τῆι πρὸς τὴν πόλιν εὐνοίαι καὶ στεφα[νῶ]||σαι χρυσῶι στεφ[ά]νωι Διονυσίων τῶι ἀγῶνι τὴν ἀνάρρησιν ποιουμένου[ς·] || ὁ δῆμος στεφανοῖ Δύμαντα Ἀντιπάτρου Ἰασέα χρυσῶι στεφάνωι εὐσ[ε]||βείας ἕνεκεν τῆς εἰς τοὺς θεοὺς καὶ εὐνοίας τῆς εἰς τὸν δῆ[μον·] || τῆς δὲ ἀναρρήσεως ἐπιμεληθῆναι τοὺς προέδρους καὶ τὸν ἀγω||[νο]θέτην· εἶναι δὲ αὐτὸν καὶ πολίτην μετέχοντα πάντων ὧν καὶ [οἱ] || [ἄ]λλοι πολῖται μετέχουσιν· ἀναγράψαι δὲ τὸ ψήφισμα εἰς τὸ ἱερὸ[ν] || [τ]ῆς Ἀθηνᾶς. IIasos 153.14–36=Iasos Caria 74.14: [ἔ]δοξεν τῆι βουλῆι· βασιλεὺς Θεοτέλης Ἀριφάντου εἶπεν· ἐπε[ιδὴ] || Δύμας ποητὴς τραγωιδιῶν τά τε πρὸς θεοὺς εὐσεβῶς δια[γό]||μενος καὶ τὰ πρὸς [τ]ὴμ πόλιν οἰκείως καὶ φιλανθρώπως ἀεί τι λ[έγων] || καὶ γράφων καὶ πράττων ἀγαθὸν διατελεῖ περὶ τῆς νήσου, διὰ [παν]||[τ]ός τε ἀπόδειξιν ἐποιήσατο τῆς αὑτοῦ φύσεως καὶ πραγματείαν σ[υνέ]||ταξεν ἐν δράματι τῶν Δαρδάνου πράξεων τὰς μεγίστας μνημοσ[ύνας,] || ἡ δὲ βουλὴ προβεβ[ο]ύλευκεν αὐτῶι περὶ ἐπαίνου καὶ στεφάνου· [ὅπως] || οὖγ καὶ ὁ δῆμος φαίνηται τοὺς εὐεργετοῦντας αὑτὸν τιμῶν ἀξίω[ς] || διὰ παντός· ἀγαθῆι τύχηι· ἐψηφίσθαι τῶι δήμωι· ἐπαινέσαι Δύμα[ντα] || ἐπὶ τῆι πρὸς τὴμ πόλιν εὐνοίαι καὶ στεφανῶσαι αὐτὸν χρυσῶι στε[φάνωι] || Διονυσίων τῶι ἀγῶνι τὴν ἀνάρρησιν ποιουμένους· ὁ δῆμος στεφα[νοῖ] || Δύμαντα Ἀντιπάτ[ρ]ου χρυσῶι στεφάνωι ἀρετῆς ἕνεκεγ καὶ εὐν[οίας] || τῆς εἰς αὑτόν· τῆ[ς] δὲ ἀναρρήσεως ἐπιμεληθῆναι τοὺς προέδ[ρους] || [κ]αὶ τὸν ἀγωνοθέτην· εἶναι δὲ αὐτῶι καὶ ἄλλο ἀγαθὸν εὑρέσθαι ὅτ[ι ἂν] || [β]ούληται παρὰ τοῦ δήμου· ἀναγράψαι δὲ τὸ ψήφισμα τὸμ βασιλέα [εἰς τὸ] || [ἱε]ρὸν τῆς Ἀθηνᾶς· ἵν[α δ]ὲ φανερὸν ἦι καὶ Ἰασεῦσιν ὅτι ὁ δῆμος τιμᾶ[ι τοὺς] || [κα]λοὺς καὶ ἀγαθοὺς ἄνδρας ἀξίως τῆς αὐτῶν ἀρετῆς, δοῦν[αι τόδε] || [τὸ] ψήφισμα τὸμ βασιλέα τοῖς πρώτοις παραγενομένοις θεωροῖς ἐ[ξ Ἰασοῦ] || [καὶ] τὸ γραφὲν ἐπὶ Σωσιφάνους ἀνενεγ̣κεῖν τῆι βουλῆι καὶ τῶι δήμ[ωι τῶι] || [Ἰα]σέων, καὶ παρακε[κ]λῆσθαι Ἰασε̣[ῖ]ς ἐπιμεληθῆναι φιλοτίμως ἵνα [τὰ] || [ψ]ηφίσματα ἔν τινι τῶν ἱερῶν ἀναγ[ρ]αφῆι καὶ οἱ στέφανοι ἀν[ακη]||[ρυχ]θῶσιν ἐν Διο[νυ]σίοις εἰδότας δι[ό]τι ποιήσαντες τὰ ἠξι[ωμένα] || [χα]ριοῦνται τῶι δ[ήμ]ωι.

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Dymas of Iasos, son of Antipater (TrGF 130) The author of a tragedy from the second century bc was awarded a golden crown and citizenship of Samothrace. The first decree informs us that he received these prizes for piety to the gods and benevolence towards the people. (εὐσ[ε]||βείας ἕνεκεν τῆς εἰς τοὺς θεοὺς καὶ εὐνοίας τῆς εἰς τὸν δῆ[μον·]). The golden wreath was given to him during the local Dionysia and the decree was to be inscribed on the temple of Athena. The second inscription is much more detailed. He was awarded a second golden crown because he continued to be pious and benevolent and moreover he had written a drama entitled Dardanus. The play is defined as the greatest memorial (ἡ μεγίστη μνημοσύνη) for the island. According to Diodorus Siculus (5.48.3), the hero Dardanus was the first to travel to Asia and he started his journey from Samothrace. He was the son of Zeus and Electra, one of the Pleiades. Dardanus founded two cities: Dardanus and Troy, where he was the founder of the royal family. The tragedy was certainly a tribute to Samothrace and its local hero. J. L. Lightfoot, moreover, believes that the play also concerned the Cabiri (in that Dardanus’ brother, Iasion, was associated with these local deities).284 Recently Rutherford analysed the inscriptions in detail, presenting them in the context of other honorific decrees of so-called poeti vaganti.285 He puts forward a hypothesis about Dymas’ drama being a tribute also to Rome. Indeed Dardanus brought from Samothrace to Troy sacred items, which after the sack of the city were taken by Aeneas to Italy (Penates of Rome), so it would not be very difficult to present in this drama a connection between these three cities: Samothrace–Troy–Rome. Rutherford raises the question of whether or not Dymas’ tragedies were actually performed. We know of Dymas exclusively from the two above honorific inscriptions, which were procured by Samothracians and installed in a theatre entrance at the playwright’s home town of Iasos. We cannot really say anything about his other plays, but the reasonable hypothesis seems to be that at least Dardanus was staged at the theatre near the sanctuary of the Great Gods at Samothrace. Each of these honorific decrees was to be read also during the Dionysia and the inscription was installed at the theatre in Carian Iasos. It is though quite possible that he was also staging his productions there.

Lysimachus of Teos (TrGF 132) IIasos 152=Iasos Caria 65.1=2. 35. 36 γνώμη τοῦ κοινοῦ τῶν περὶ τὸν Διόνυ[σον τεχ]νιτῶν [τῶ]ν ἐν Ἰωνίαι [κ]α[ὶ] Ἑλλησ||πόντωι καὶ τῶν περὶ τὸν καθηγημόνα Δι[όνυ]σον· […]πρεσβευταὶ εἱρέθησαν […] || Λυσίμαχος ποιητὴς τραγῳδιῶν,

Thanks to the above inscription, Lysimachus of Teos is known as a tragic poet and one of the superiors of the Dionysian technitai association of Ionia and the Hellespont. The inscription is dated c. 151 bc, which would be more or less when he was active. There are no other details regarding this poet. Lightfoot (2002), p. 218. Rutherford (2007), pp. 279–93 (with the English translation of the decrees).

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Koroneia Zotion, son of Zotion, of Ephesus (TrGF 133) Zotion was the author of tragedies and satyr plays, for which he was honoured by the Koroneians with an inscription dated to the mid-second century (ICoroneae ed. N. G. Papadakis (1927), 207–22)286: Ζ]ωτίων Ζωτίωνος Ἐφέσιος, τραγαϝω̣διά||[ων ποειτὰς κὴ σατο]ύρων). This is the only extant evidence of this author’s existence and therefore nothing else is known about his life and work.

Delos Dionysius, son of Demetrius, Athenian (TrGF 141) Dionysius, son of Demetrius, an Athenian of the Anaphlystus deme, is mentioned in three Delian inscriptions, all dated between 112 and 110 bc. ID 1531.1 βασιλεὺς Πτολεμαῖος Σωτήρ, ὁ πρεσβύτατος ὑὸς || βασιλέως Πτοεμαίου τοῦ δευτέρου Εὐεργέτου || Ἀπόλλωνι καὶ τῶι δήμωι τῶι Ἀθηναίων || καὶ τοῖς νέοις,|| ἐπὶ ἐπιμελητοῦ τῆς νήσου Διονυσίου τοῦ Δημητρίου Ἀναφλυστίου ID 2125.4-7 ἐπὶ ἱερέως || Δημητρίου τοῦ Δημητρίου Ἀναφλυστίου, ἐπι||μελητοῦ δὲ τῆς νήσου Διονυσίου τοῦ Δημητρίου || Ἀναφλυστίου. ID 1959.1 Διονύσιος Δημητρίου Ἀθηναῖος νικήσας || τοὺς ποητὰς τῶν τραγωιδιῶν καὶ σατύ||ρων v ἱερεὺς Ἀπόλλωνος καὶ ἐπιμελη||τὴς Δήλου γενόμενος, v Διονύσωι || καὶ Μούσαις v χαριστήριον.

He was the author of tragedies and satyr plays. However, he was best remembered as an important member of the technitai association. He was a priest of Apollo as well as an epimeletes of Delos.

Samos A mid-second century bc inscription from Samos lists the winners of that city’s Heraia (JHS 7, 1886, 148–53=Samos Ionia 170. 1–3, 9–10): ἐπὶ Ἀντιπάτρου· ἀγωνοθετούντων Ἑρμίππου τοῦ Μ̣ο̣σ̣χ̣ί̣ω̣[νος,] Ἀριστείδου τοῦ Ἀπολλοδότου,|| Νικολάου τοῦ [․․c.8․․․]δου· γυμνασιαρχοῦντος Σωσιστράτου τοῦ Σωσ[ιστρά]του τοῦ νεωτέρου· ἐνίκων οἵδε· […]τοὺς ποιητὰς [τῶ]ν καινῶν σατύρων· Ἀρχένομος Ἑρμία Ῥόδιος· τοὺς ποιητὰς || τῶν καινῶν τραγ[ῳ]δ[ιῶν] Σωσ[ίσ]τρατ[ος Σωσιστράτου· Recently with commentary Schachter and Slater (2007).

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Sosistratus, son of Sosistratus, of Samos (TrGF 142) According to the above-cited inscription, Sosistratus of Samos, the son of Sosistratus, was awarded in the second century bc for presenting a new tragedy at the Heraia in Argos. This is the only extant information concerning this author.

Archenomus (TrGF 143) Archenomus, the son of Hermias, was a winner at Heraia held in the second century bc. He came from the island of Rhodes and was awarded for presenting a new satyr play. We have no other information regarding this person.

Thespiae Pharadas, son of Timon, of Athens (TrGF 173) From the start of the first century bc we have a list of the victors of agones held during the Musaea at the city of Thespiae in Boeotia (IG VII 1760. 1–8. 27–8): Ξένωνος ἄρχοντος, ἀγωνοθετοῦντος τὸ || δεύτερον Κλεαινέτου τοῦ Δασύου, ἐπὶ ἱερέ||ως τῶν Μουσῶν Πολυκρατίδου τοῦ Φαείνου, ἀ||πὸ δὲ τῶν τεχνιτῶν || Ἀργείου, γραμματεύοντος Ἀμφικλεί[δου] || τοῦ Κλεαινέτου, πυρφοροῦντος Κλ[εαινέ]||του τοῦ Δασύου, οἱ νικήσαντες τὰ Μ[ουσεῖα] || οἵδε·

The above inscription informs us that some time after 85 bc the author Pharadas of Athens, son of Timon, won an award for his satyr play. The inscription provides no other information regarding this author.

[Ari]stocrates (TrGF 174) IG VII 1761. 1: [Ἀλέξ]ανδρος Μην[— — — — — —] || [ἀπὸ Μαι]άνδρου ||             ποιητὴς καιν[ῆς τραγῳδίας] || [Ἀρι]στοκράτης Ἀγ[— — — — — —]

The only certain information regarding this author is that he was awarded a prize during the Musaea held at Thespiae (after 85 bc) for presenting a new tragedy. The first three letters of his name had to be reconstructed, whereas only the first two, Ἀγ[, of his patronymic have survived. For this reason it is difficult to associate this author with any better-known writer.

Teos Cleitus of Teos, son of Callisthenes (TrGF 129) All the information we have concerning Cleitus of Teos, son of Callisthenes, comes from a laconic tomb inscription, most probably dating back to the second century



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bc (CIG II 3105=LW 117=Teos Ionia 168.a.1 Κλεῖτε Καλλισθένους,|| τραγῳδιῶν ποιητά, || χρηστὲ χαῖρε), which describes him as a ‘tragic poet’. This is the only place where his name is recorded. Snell and Kannicht believe that Pythagoras and Cleitus, known from a 201 or 204–203 bc inscription (SIG3  563=IG IX2, 1 1:192.1) to have been deputies from Teos to the Aetolians, were the sons of this poet (καθὼς καὶ τοῖς Διονυσιακοῖς τεχνίταις ὁ νόμος τῶν || Αἰτωλῶν κελεύει).

Ptolemais From this city originates an inscription of the technitai association of Dionysus and the Divine Siblings dated to some time between 270 and 246 bc (OGIS 1. 51=Milne, Cairo Egypt 18, 9284. 1–2. 31–33=Bernand 1992, 6 II) in honour of Lysimachus Sostrateus, son of Ptolemy: ἔδοξεν τεχνίταις τοῖς περὶ τὸν Διόνυσον καὶ || θεοὺς Ἀδελφούς· […] τραγῳδιῶν ποιηταί, || Φαίνιππος, || Διόγνητος·

Phaenippus (TrGF 114) and Diognetus (TrGF 115) The inscription names two otherwise unknown tragedians: Phaenippus and Diognetus. Mentioned further (56–9) are συναγωνισταὶ τραγικοί, || Ἀπολλωνίδης Ἄρχωνος, (Άρδῶνος according to Milne), Κλεῖτος, || [Π]τολεμαῖος, || Ζώπυρος ([Σά]τ̣υρος according to Milne). The first of these may be identified as Apollonides (TrGF 152), Cleitus may be identified as a poet of the same name (TrGF 129), but the Ptolemy in the inscription is certainly not Ptolemy IV Philopator (TrGF 119). The name of the last of the artists mentioned in the inscription is illegible to the extent that it is impossible to determine whether or not it can be identified as the otherwise unknown Zopyrus (TrGF 216), whose two verses dedicated to Aphrodite have been preserved by Stobaeus (4, 20a, 8): Μηδεὶς ἄπειρος τῶν ἐμῶν εἴη φίλων ἔρωτος, εὐτυχῶν δὲ τὸν θεὸν λάβοι. May none of my friends be untried in Love and happily possess the god [Eros].

Miletus Euandridas (TrGF 116) Euandridas, the son of Hestiaeus, was a tragic poet according to his tomb inscription, dating from around 200 bc: RA 1874, 113–14, 5–12=Mil Ionia 463.I τὸν Ἑστιαίου τῆς τραγῳδίας γραφῆ || Εὐανδρίδαν κέκρυφ’ ὁ τυμβίτας πέτρος || ζήσαντα πρὸς πάντ’ εὐσεβῶς ἀνὰ πτόλιν || ἔτων ἀριθμὸν ὀγδοήκοντ’ ἀρτίων. He belonged to a well-known Milesian family, and had died at the age of 80. We have no information regarding his work.

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Cyprus Dionysius the Cypriot (TrGF 138) SEG 6 813=SEG Cyprus 13: 586.pl [Θεόδωρον, τῶν πρώτων φίλω]ν, τὸν [υἱὸν τὸν Σελεύκου τοῦ συγγενοῦς] || [τοῦ βασιλέως καὶ στρατηγ]οῦ καὶ ναυάρ[χου καὶ ἀρχιερέως τῆς νήσου], || [τὸ κοινὸν τῶν ἐν τῶι κ]ατὰ Πάφον γραμματεω π̣ερ[ὶ τὸν Διόνυσον] || [καὶ θεοὺς Ἐπιφανεῖς(?) τεχ]νιτν, εὐεργεσίας ἕνεκεν τῆς εἰ[ς ἑαυτό]· || [— (annus, mensis, dies) — —], ἀρχόντων Κρίτωνος κιθαρωι[δοῦ], || [τοῦ δεῖνος ποιητοῦ σατύ]ρων, Διονυσίου ποιητοῦ τραγῳ||[διῶν, οἰκονομοῦντος(?) τοῦ δεῖνος] συναγωνιστοῦ τραγικοῦ, γραμ||[ματεύοντος τοῦ δεῖνος ποιητοῦ κωμ] ῳ̣διῶν.

This inscription of the Dionysus of Paphos technitai association, dated to the reign of Ptolemy Euergetes II (144–131 bc) and described as ([τὸ κοινὸν τῶν ἐν τῶι κ]ατὰ Πάφον γραμματεω π̣ερ[ὶ τὸν Διόνυσον] || [καὶ θεοὺς Ἐπιφανεῖς(?) τεχ]νιτν,), mentions the tragic author Dionysius as one of the organization’s leaders. Nothing else is known about him.

Kaunos Polyxenus (TrGF 143A) JHS 73, 1953, 31-32, no. 13=Kaun Caria 19. 1 Πολύξενος Φιλάγρου || νικήσας τοὺς ποιητὰς || τῶν τραγῳδιῶν δὶς || ἐν τοῖς τιθεμένοις ὑπὸ || τοῦ δήμου Λητοῖ καὶ Ῥώμηι || πενταετηρικοῖς ἀγῶσιν· || Κλέαρχος Κλεάρχου Καύνιος ἐποίησεν.

This honorific inscription originates from second century bc Kaunos and was procured by someone called Klearchos as tribute to Polyxenus, son of Philagrus, who had twice won tragic agones during games in honour of Leto and Roma, organized by the citizens of Kaunos every five years.

Fragmenta adespota Gyges (TrGF 2 adespota F 664) ΧΟΡΟΣ (ΓΥΝΑΙΚΩΝ?) ἡ σκηνὴ τοῦ δράματος ὑπόκειται ἐν Σάρδεσιν] desunt 2 incertum quot vss. [ ]..[ ].[ ] [ ].υγα..[ca. 7 ll. ]. [ ]..[.]υσμ….(.)η̣ [ ]μ̣α γῆς



Tragedians and Tragedies [ ].ιρου σ̣τ̣εφ[ [ ]ι̣ς̣ ἐγχωρίοις [ ]. προσκυνῶ [ ]θ̣εσθαι τάδε(.) [ ]. ἀμηχανῶ [ ].α καὶ πρὸ τοῦ [ ]ν̣ λέξω τὸ πᾶν [ ].ε γίγνεται [ ] π̣ροέδραμεν [ ]ι̣δωμοι λόγου [ ] ξ̣υνήλικας quot vss. desint incertum Γύ[γην γὰρ ὡ]ς̣ ἐ̣σ̣εῖδον, [ο]ὐκ εἴκασμά τι, ἔδε̣[ισα] μὴ φό̣νο̣υ τις ἔνδον ἦ λ̣ό̣χ̣[ο]ς̣, ὁπ̣[οῖα] τἀπίχειρα ταῖς τυραννίσιν· ἐ̣[πε]ὶ δ’ ἔτ’ ἐγρήσσοντα Κανδαύλην ὁρῶ, τὸ δρασθὲν ἔγνων κα[ὶ] τίς ὁ δράσας ἀνήρ· ὡς δ’ ἀξυνήμων, καρδί[ας] κυκωμένης, καθεῖρξα σῖ[γα]…[…] αἰσχύν̣[ης] βοήν· ἐν δεμνίω[ι δὲ φρον]τ̣ίσιν στρωφωμένη νὺξ ἦν ἀτέρ[μων ἐξ] ἀυπνία̣ς̣ ἐ̣μ̣οί· ἐπεὶ δ’ ἀνῆλ[θε παμ]φ̣αὴς ῾Εωσφόρος τῆς πρωτοφεγ[γοῦς ἡ]μέρας πρ[ο]άγγελος, τὸν μὲν λέχους ἤγε̣ι̣ρ̣[α] κἀξεπεμψάμην λαοῖς θεμιστεύσοντα· μῦθος ἦν ἐμοί πειθοῦς ἑτοιμο[…]τ̣ο[.]οσ.[…]…..(.)[ εὕδειν ἄνακτα παν[νυχ Γύγην δ' ἐμοὶ κλητῆρ.[ quot vss. desint incertum .ρ̣.[ τί δη[ ἀλλ’ ε̣[ νε[ ωχ̣[ χρυς̣[ ε[ δρασα.[ (ΓΥ.) [.]ι̣μ̣ε̣ ..[ η…φ̣.[ θέλω δε̣φ̣[ ἐμαῖς ανω̣[ (ΒΑ.) λέγοις ἂν ω̣[ (ΓΥ.) .υδωντι.ς …

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desunt 2 incertum quot vss. When I saw Gyges, not just a likeness, I was terrified of a palace plot to kill [the king], such a price is paid for tyranny. But since I saw that Candaules was not yet asleep, I realized what had happened and whose was the deed. As if unaware of anything, though my heart was in turmoil, in silence, I restrained a cry of shame. Tossing on my bed, thinking, the night was for me interminable restlessness. When radiant dawn arrived, the courier of the day’s first glimmer, I woke him and from the bedchamber sent him, to judge the people’s affairs – I had a plan worthy of consideration, which would not allow the king to sleep the entire [night … [to] Gyges’ herald …

The Gyges tragedy, or rather 16 of its verses and another dozen or so very disjointed and badly damaged ones, constitute one of the few examples of Hellenistic drama to have survived on papyrus. Since their discovery and publication, these fragments have become the subject of countless studies and philological discussions. The extreme differences of opinion regarding this tragedy bear testimony not only as to how much it deviates from the classical model, but also as to how little we know about Hellenistic drama in general. There has been no agreement as to its dating or genre, let alone as to who the play’s author was. The papyrus was published for the first time in 1950 by E. Lobel,287 and eight months later in volume XXIII (No. 2382) of Oxyrhynchus Papyri. The papyrus itself is dated by the publisher to 200 bc. Originally, however, the scroll only served to register accounts, and only later were the accounts erased and the papyrus re-used. The result is the overlapping of old and new letters, which makes the text difficult to read. The papyrus is undoubtedly in a bad state, above all because both sides and much of the bottom of the sheet are missing. Thus only some of the words in columns I and III remain. It is the start of the middle column that has been relatively well preserved, and here we can read the 16 lines written in iambic trimeter. The subject of the tragedy is obviously the Lydian palace coup. The story was wellknown to Greeks from Herodotus’ Histories (I, 9–14) as well as Archilochus’ poem. We learn the details of the described episode in Book I of The Histories. The Heraclids had resided on the throne of Lydia for 22 generations, the first of this dynasty being Alcaeus, the son of Heracles, and the last being Candaules, who was assassinated by Gyges. Herodotus describes the palace coup as follows. Candaules was besotted with his wife, believing her to be the most beautiful woman on Earth, and he wanted others in his kingdom to think the same. Suspecting that his bodyguard and trusted servant, Lobel (1950), p. 209.

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by the name of Gyges, was not really convinced, he suggested that he should secretly observe his wife naked. Gyges did not want to commit such a shameful offence against his queen, and was more than willing to believe in her exceptional beauty without visual evidence. But Candaules was insistent and devised a plan to hide his servant in the royal bedchamber, behind an open door, so that Gyges would have a good view of the king’s wife undressing as well as a nearby exit through which he could retreat when she turned her back to the doorway to retire to bed. Unable to disobey the king, Gyges agreed to go along with this plan and that same night Candaules hid him in the royal bedroom. Initially everything went as the ruler had intended, but as Gyges was leaving the room, the queen noticed him and realized that the instigator was her husband. Maintaining her composure, though deeply humiliated by the situation and her husband’s betrayal, she pretended that nothing had happened, while at the same time secretly thirsting for revenge. In the morning the queen summoned Gyges and presented to him two courses of action: either she would have him killed or he would kill the king and take her as his wife. The servant did not wish to die, so, after some initial hesitation, he agreed to kill the king and enquired how it was to be done. Inspired by her own sense of justice, the queen declared that the shameful act committed against her should now be committed against the culprit. Guarded by the queen’s trusted attendants, Gyges received from her a dagger and was once again forced to hide in the royal bedchamber. When Candaules was asleep, Gyges used this dagger to kill him. Next he married the queen and became the new ruler of Lydia. Candaules’ former subjects, however, would not accept his usurpation of power peacefully. Fearing civil war, Gyges felt compelled to have his power confirmed by the Delphic Oracle. Pythia acknowledged Gyges’ right to the throne, but she also issued a warning that justice would eventually reach his new dynasty in the fifth generation and fate would avenge the Heraclids. In brief, that is how Herodotus recounts the tale. On closer examination of the tragedy’s extant verses, apart from the many similarities to Herodotus’ version, we may also notice that the drama describes the event in greater detail and offers deeper psychological insight. At first the queen just spots a figure (εἴκασμά τι) and only in the next instance recognizes it to be Gyges, while at the same time noticing that her husband is still awake. Fully realizing what has happened, she manages to restrain herself from crying out and pretends to have seen nothing. Here Herodotus laconically states that the queen silently resolved to seek her revenge, while the author of the drama describes the queen’s restless night of brooding and how she subsequently treats the king. Pretending to be a caring wife, at dawn she wakes her husband and sends him out of the bedchamber to tend to his subjects’ affairs. She has already worked out her plan of revenge and sends out a herald to summon Gyges. Unfortunately, this is where the papyrus text runs out. We may assume that the scene is set in front of the royal palace in Sardis, the capital of Lydia. The performing characters would have undoubtedly included: Gyges, the queen of Lydia (Nysa), Candaules and perhaps a herald. There is a lot of evidence to suggest the presence of a chorus. Scholars have attempted to reconstruct the rest of the tragedy in various ways. I. Th. Kakridis is of the opinion that the prologue was recited by Candaules as he left

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the palace in the early morning.288 Next, in the parodos, the chorus would have sung a song, perhaps in honour of Heracles as the founder of the dynasty. On finishing this song, the chorus would have bowed before the approaching queen, as this appears to be expressed at the end of verse 9, where we read προσκυνῶ. Then Nysa began her soliloquy, parts of which are the 16 extant verses. Cantarella, however, believes that the queen’s monologue is a typical informative prologue.289 Whichever way it was, we can be certain that the extant monologue fragment is that of Candaules’ wife and comes from the first parts of the play. Moreover, the monologue is undoubtedly delivered in the presence of the chorus, to whom Nysa explains what happened in the night and why she has sent for Gyges. Therefore we should next consider the time of day when all this is said. And here it seems most likely that this scene takes place in the morning. According Aristotle’s recommendations, a play should end at night, i.e. when Candaules retires to bed and is murdered inside the palace by Gyges. We may assume that the tragedy plot would chiefly concern Gyges’ dilemma, indecision and subsequent planning of the murder. A. Lesky argues that this play must have contravened conventional unity of time, action and place because of the way in which Herodotus described events: one night Gyges observed the queen undress, then spent the entire day under guard and only the next night murdered Candaules.290 Yet such breaking of dramatic conventions does not seem necessary. The previous night’s events are recounted by the queen at dawn, while the king’s murder is committed that same evening. This would have been the play’s final act, presumably followed only by the chorus foretelling that the family of the murderer, i.e. the Mermnads, would eventually be punished for their deeds. A somewhat different start to the tragedy is presented by F. Stiebitz.291 On the basis of a few words that can be discerned in column I, he argues that the initial speech is delivered by the queen, who at dawn leaves the palace to bow and lay offerings to the local gods. In her dire situation, she decides to tell the chorus of her coevals (ξ̣υνήλικας) everything that has happened. The most original, but at the same least well-founded, interpretation has been presented by H. Lloyd-Jones, who claims that the fragment is part of an iambic poem by Archilochus.292 We know from Herodotus that such a poem existed, but this historian offers us no details regarding its subject. Its fragment cited by Plutarch (de Tranq. 10, 450 b–c) contains nothing that could be associated with the above presented fragment of the play about Gyges. However, we do have irrefutable evidence that papyrus text POxy 2382 is part of a play on account of the fact that the speakers change. Proof of this is found in the characteristic hyphens appearing in verses 42, 45 and 46 of column III. An important issue at the start of investigation into the papyrus script was its dating. In view of the vocabulary and phraseology, which have an obviously archaic

Kakridis (1951), p. 11. Cantarella (1952), p. 11. 290 Lesky (1953), p. 3; Lesky (1963), p. 797. 291 Stiebitz (1957), p. 145. 292 Lloyd-Jones (1952–3). 288 289



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character, E. Lobel believed that this play was also from that period.293 We cannot assume this to be the work of that first great tragedian for there is no evidence of Aeschylus ever dealing with this particular subject. E. Lobel therefore attributed it to Phrynichus.294 D. L. Page was also of the opinion that the Gyges tragedy originated from the fifth century bc and even preceded Herodotus.295 Page notes that the high level of drama in Herodotus’ account could easily be explained if we assume that he had been inspired by a stage play, as in other parts of The Histories he clearly shows knowledge of Phrynichus’ Sack of Miletus and Aeschylus’ Persians. A different possibility was proposed by A. E. Raubitschek, who believed that Herodotus’ account was based on a contemporary tragedy and for that reason perhaps one written by Ion of Chios.296 K. Latte was the first to posit that the play from which the papyrus fragment originates was written after Herodotus’ Histories.297 In an article by E. Bieckel we find the exceptionally valid point that Herodotus does not name the queen, and therefore probably did not know it, whereas it would have had to appear in the play.298 Today there is relatively general agreement that the play originates from the Hellenistic period.299 Many features of the extant text suggest this. An important type of evidence for the later dating of this text fragment is its metre and prosody. In her analysis of the text, I. Zawadzka notes that, apart from there being no iambic trimeter resolutions, it also lacks the so-called correptio Attica, i.e. putting a short vowel before the muta cum liquida to give a short syllable.300 Such metric devices are commonly found in the plays of the three great tragedians and generally in tragedies of the classical period. The nearest K. Latte could find to the papyrus text’s treatment of iambic trimeter were fragments of plays by Moschion and Sositheus, authors who in the main neglected the correptio Attica. Interestingly enough, the closest resemblance in terms of metre, prosody and phraseology is found in the extant fragment of Lycophron’s play, Alexandra. Here there are no iambic substitutions, and instead there are long passages of text with long vowels appearing before a muta cum liquida. Many of the expressions used in Alexandra are derived from Aeschylus, some exceptionally rare, some used in epic poetry and some even borrowed from Herodotus.301 On this basis M. Gigante has posited that the author of the Gyges play was indeed Lycophron. While such an assumption is certainly attractive to those studying the Hellenistic period, there is, unfortunately, not enough evidence to support it.302 Zawadzka has rightly pointed out that the text’s metre and vocabulary are

The convergence with the vocabulary and phraseology of Aeschylus, Herodotus and Sophocles, as shown by Lobel, appears in this instance to be a deliberate imitation and intended archaization on the part of the author. 294 Lobel (1950), p. 209. 295 Page (1951), pp. 1–46. 296 Raubitschek (1955), pp. 48–50; Raubitschek (1957), pp. 139–40. 297 Latte (1950), p. 136. 298 Bieckel (1957), p. 143; see also Travis 2000. 299 The chief proponents of this view have been K. Latte and P. Maas. 300 Zawadzka (1966). 301 For a detailed description of Lycophron’s vocabulary, see Konze (1870) and Holzinger (1895). 302 Gigante (1952). This theory was rejected by Cazzaniga in 1953, to which Gigante responded to uphold his theory in 1955. 293

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actually very typical for the entire Hellenistic epoch, including all the Pleiad members as well as any other author from that period. The theme undertaken by the anonymous author deserves particular attention. This is a historical drama concerning events that occurred in Lydia at the start of the seventh century bc.303 Of course, historical themes were also not uncommon in Classical drama, but, as Cantarella rightly notes, at the time such themes had to be in some way connected with the Greek world, as was the case with Aeschylus’ Persians or Phrynichus’ Capture of Miletus.304 In the tale about the fate of Candaules there would be no room for allusions regarding Greece. But the matter looked different in Hellenistic times, for by then interest in the East was incomparably greater than in the fifth century. A tragedy concerning a dramatic episode in an Eastern dynasty’s history would very much appeal to a Hellenistic audience, all the more so if it revealed some Eastern opulence and local colour. I. Th. Kakridis believes that in this respect the anonymous tragedy probably resembled the lost Adonis play by Ptolemy IV. Even though the Adonis story was also certainly set in the East, it is difficult to comment on this suggestion since the Lagid monarch’s tragedy has disappeared. In my opinion, we should take a closer look at similarities between the Gyges tragedy and Moschion’s Men of Pherae. It is safe to assume that in both dramas leading roles were played by royal women justly wreaking vengeance on a tyrant. In both plays, too, the actual assassins hide in the tyrant’s bedchamber. Naturally, we may at the same time see similarities between these two heroines and Aeschylus’ Clytemnestra, but then again there is a fundamental difference in the highlighted moral aspect of the act of murder. This, incidentally, touches upon a question raised by Cantarella: Classical tragedy always concerned mythical or heroic plots, whereas the Gyges plot is in a sense ‘bourgeois’, in that it concerned mundane family problems.305 Cantarella goes on to stress that here we are dealing with man as he is, someone whose downfall results from his being blinded by his wife’s sheer beauty and not on account of some dispute among the gods or nemesis for a dynastic crime. If the Gyges play indeed mentioned the oracle and punishment for the shedding of royal blood, it would have done so in its final part. I. Th. Kakridis notes that in this respect, the drama resembles to a certain extent a Euripidean tragedy, for there oracles play a significant role in almost every drama.306 Another way in which Gyges resembles a work by Euripides is in its psychological treatment of the female character. The intensity with which Nysa relates her humiliation and night-time restlessness is reminiscent of Euripides’ great portrayals of women. After all, this was the favourite ‘Classical poet’ of the Hellenistic period, so the similarity is hardly surprising. Moreover, Herodotus was another classical author who was particularly popular in Hellenistic times, to the extent that his Histories were actually performed on stage.307 Athenaeus writes that Herodotus was recited in the Great Theatre in Alexandria by the actor Hegesias. No doubt, this would have been a It should be noted that Martin (1952) disagrees with this view, believing the theme to be mythical rather than historical. 304 Cantarella (1952), p. 8. 305 Cantarella (1952), p. 12. 306 Kakridis (1951), p. 12. 307 Ath. 14, 620 D. Also see article by Andria and Delcroix (1997). 303



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fragment from The Histories adapted into a monodrama. The fact that such literature was performed on stage tells us something about theatrical tastes in the Alexandrian period. Fragments of literature can frequently be dated by tracking any references to them by other ancient authors. We know that Achilles Tatius mentions Candaules’ wife among the women who could kill out of love but equally well out of hatred.308 The fact that he includes her among epic heroines and does not mention her name clearly means that in this case he was not basing his knowledge on the stage play. The story of Candaules, Gyges and Nysa is also related by Nicolaus of Damascus (FGrH 90 F 47), who bases it on a version by Xanthus of Lydia. Moreover, Plutarch recounts the tale in his Quaestiones Graecae, but here too there is no evidence that he based his information on the Gyges drama. However, among the most interesting methods of deducing evidence is using the argumentum ex silentio. One of the arguments Cantarella uses to prove the play fragment’s Hellenistic provenance is Aristotle’s silence on the subject, for he was someone who would have almost certainly mentioned a stage adaptation of a story by Herodotus.309 Of course, this argument is based solely on Cantarella’s subjective intuition and therefore cannot be treated as irrefutable evidence as to when the play was written.

Neoptolemus (TrGF 2 adespota F 680a and b) F1 TrGF 2 adespota F 680 a ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ φα̣ιω· κτύπ̣ο̣ς ἀγ̣ρ̣ [ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ] ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ].ερο̣ν[.].ο̣.υχον ν̣έφος ελ.[ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ]έ̣πεται φθιμένων φαντ[ά]σματ̣[ˬ ̱ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ …].ιον ὑπ[ὸ] τροχὸν Ἰξίω[ν ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˪ ̱]ν̣ ἐπὶ πο[τ]α̣μὸν Τάν̣[τ]α̣λ̣[ο]σ̣ [ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱( ̱) ].σται φάσγανα κα̣τὰ̣ γ̣ῆ̣σ̣ ἔβαλον Φ̣ρ̣ύ̣γιαι τ̣α |[(ˬ)ˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ ˈ σύ]μ̣μαχοσ̣ ἔμολεν· θάρσει, τλήμων Δη̣ϊδάμεια | ? ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱]η̣μων· ἀνέβη δ’ ἐπὶ φέγγος Ἀχιλλεύς· Ach. Tat. 1, 8. Cantarella (1952), p. 14.

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καὶ γὰρ δειλαὶ Τρῳ|[άδες ἔφυγον φάσγ]α̣να γυ̣μ̣νὰ πˈρολιποῦσαι· κἀμὲ γλυκερὰ β̣αίνε̣ι̣ φ̣ω̣νὴ | [ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱].· ἦχον δὲ σαφῶς ἐπιγι̣[(γ)νώσκ]ω καὶ̣ π̣ᾶσα |[ˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱]ς, δεσπότι̣, κατέδ[υ …..]..[..].σ̣τη|(ˬˬ) ̱ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱]ιακ̣[.]ν σὺν ἐμοὶ [……(.)]..[ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱ Π]ύρροσ̣ πελας.[ˈ ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱| ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱]ην ἀόρατον· αὐτὸς τυχὸν ἂ[ν] κα|[ˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱ ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱ˬˬ ̱]ο̣ϊδα

F2 TrGF 2 adespota F 680b ὦ Λῆμνε καὶ̣ κ̣ρα|[–ˬ–×–ˬ– ×–ˬ– Ἥφαι]σ̣τος, ἀναμείξας δ’ ὁμοῦ αδα|[ˬ–×–ˬ–×–] τ̣έχνην καὶ πάντ̣α̣ τὰ στοιχεῖα |[–×–ˬ– ×–ˬ–×ˬ] ἀ̣όρατ’ ἠργάζετο· ὅδ' ἔστ› Ἀχιλ|[λε–ˬ–×–ˬ– ×–ˬ–] Ζεύς, ο[…(.)].ήθησαν θεο̣ί̣

The above cited papyrus text was first published in 1955 by S. Eitrem, L. Amundsen and R. P. Winnington-Ingram310 as part of the papyrus collection of the Oslo University Library – inventory number 1413. Its origin is unknown because it was acquired as part of Professor C. Schmidt’s private collection. Despite certain problems with the dating, S. Eitrem and L. Amundsen have described the text’s character as typical for the second century ad. The papyrus is in a very bad state, comprising one larger piece, which is riddled with gaping holes, and several smaller fragments with regular edges that do not match. The roll was of low-quality, dark papyrus, which, influenced by external factors, became additionally discoloured in places. The text comprises verses of literature as well as musical notation. Two types of ink were used: a black ink to write the strophes and one in a lighter shade of grey for the musical notation. The large spaces left between the strophes and the musical notes indicates that the text must have been written first, with gaps left for the music or ‘score’ to be added later.311 The publishers are not sure if the two transcriptions were made by the same person in view of the slight differences that may be observed in the angle of inclination and Eitrem, Amundsen and Winnington-Ingram (1955), next edition: TrGF 2 F 680. With regard to the melody, also see: Pappalardo (1959), Winnington-Ingram (1958), p. 8, and Pöhlmann and West (2001), pp. 124ff.

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character of letters. However, these differences are too small to rule out the possibility that both the music and the words were entered by the same writer. Neither side of the papyrus sheet is complete, and much of its top and bottom are also badly damaged, so it is difficult say how much of the text is missing or what the original number and height of the columns was. The publishers have divided the text into two parts, which are called here F1 and F2. The division is on account of the differences in metre: F1 was written in anapaestic dimeter, whereas F2 in iambic trimeter. The fragments have been identified as originating from a Hellenistic tragedy. Verses 1–12 in the first fragment present a scene from Hades: we hear rumbling (κτύπ̣ο̣ς), and witness the appearance of an ominous cloud (ν̣έφος) as well as spectres of the dead (φθιμένων φαντ[ά]σματ̣). Visible among them is Ixion, stretched out on his wheel, and perhaps also Tantalus (Τάν̣[τ]α̣λ̣[ο]σ̣).312 Verse 14 may be translated as: ‘the Phrygian women cast swords to the ground’. Then an ally arrived (σύ]μ̣μαχοσ̣ ἔμολεν), who may in the next verse be identified as Achilles. The next line describes the cowardly flight of the Trojan women, leaving behind their naked swords. A voice is heard which to the narrator sounds sweet (v. 21). In the rest of F1 we can only make out individual phrases, of which the most significant are most probably an expression: Lady (v. 25), Pyrrhus (v. 30) and ‘unseen’ (v. 32). Fragment 1 may be interpreted as follows. This is without doubt a rhesis angelike by one the characters in the play, who relates extraordinary events: for some unknown reason, amid this earth’s din and darkness, come into view apparitions of the dead. This terrifies armed Trojan women, who, on seeing Achilles, abandon their weapons and flee. Achilles then speaks, either about his own son, Neoptolemus, or perhaps directly to him. The rhesis is addressed to Deidamia, as is made quite clear in verse 16, where the narrator says, ‘Have courage, miserable Deidamia’, and then in verse 25 he calls her ‘lady’. The publishers established that the drama plot must have been set on the island of Skyros, as that was the only place where Achilles’ widow could have lived. The identity of the actual speaker is still uncertain, though there is much to indicate that it could have been Phoenix. This character plays an important role in Sophocles’ Scyrians and was present on the island at the time of Achilles’ death. Eitrem and Amundsen also found an explanation for the term of reference ‘lady’, supposedly used by Phoenix, for as Peleus’ squire (Il. 23, 360) he had certain bonds of allegiance to the family of Deidamia’s husband. None of the known versions of the Achilles and Neoptolemus myth corresponds to the elements presented in this play. It undoubtedly concerns the appearance of the Trojan war hero after his death, but the circumstances of this epiphany are utterly different from those related by other ancient authors. According to the Little Iliad, Achilles’ ghost appeared to his son after his arrival at Troy, while in another lost epic, Nostoi, the ghost of the deceased hero comes to Agamemnon to warn him before his return home. Other versions concern the sacrifice of Polyxena. According to one, Achilles appears to Neoptolemus in a dream and tells him to offer Priam’s daughter as a human sacrifice.313 However, the most popular version, made so thanks to the See Eitrem, Amundsen and Winnington-Ingram (1955), p. 11. Q.S. 14, 179–222, Σ E. Hec. 40.

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tragedians, is the tale of Achilles appearing over his grave when the Achaeans are about to leave Ilion. The apparition is clad in gold armour and demands the death of Polyxena. This version, with minor modifications, is adopted by Sophocles in Polyxena and Euripides in Hecuba, on which in turn Seneca based his Trojan Women. Yet none of these versions mentions Trojan women bearing arms. And, indeed, the presence of the swords in our fragment is difficult to explain. The publishers have associated it with a theme from Euripides’ Hecuba, in which with the aid of her female servants the old queen wreaks bloody revenge on Polymestor and his sons. They suggest that in papyrus fragment 1413 Hecuba also wants to murder Neoptolemus for the wrongs committed against her family. This is a far-reaching though not entirely implausible alternative to the more commonly known myth. But there is no evidence to support the existence of such an episode. To me it seems equally probable for the Trojan women to take up arms to defend Polyxena, or alternatively to avenge her death. The appearance of Achilles at such a moment to demand the sacrifice of Polyxena or protect those who have already sacrificed her, including his son, would be much more in keeping with the known mythical versions. Ph. J. Kakridis has suggested a different explanation: according to a lesser known version of the myth, Achilles was killed on the battlefield by Penthesilea, but Thetis appealed to Zeus for him to be resurrected to in turn kill his Amazonian slayer.314 Nevertheless, here it is difficult to explain why the Amazons should be called Trojan or Phrygian women. Basically we do not know the play’s main plot, for the rhesis is only one of its elements. The publishers of the papyrus find are right to point out that only two events in Deidamia’s life are suitable for a tragedy: Achilles’ death and when Neoptolemus set out for Troy, both of which occur before Achilles’ epiphany. So who is the protagonist in this play? Perhaps the lonely Deidamia awaiting news of her son, like Penelope awaited news of her husband. However, it could also be the case that this play breaks the unity of time principle and concerns the departure of Pyrrhus’ son. Fragment 2, although preserved in a far worse condition, may prove useful here as it adds certain new elements to the plot. The text is in a different metre, which indicates that it must belong to a different part of the play. The publishers, however, were uncertain whether this was indeed the same play as in fragment 1. Fragment 2 begins with an apostrophe to the island of Lemnos. Eitrem and Amundsen rightly point out that this was a typical device used in the prologue or alternatively a means of introducing a new character. Either way the story must have been set on the island of Lemnos, and thus it would be difficult to associate fragment 2 with fragment 1, which is set on Skyros. There is also no way we can associate Deidamia with Lemnos. The only link between the two islands is Neoptolemus. He came with Odysseus to the island of Hephaestion to take Philoctetes’ famous bow, without which the Trojan war could not be won. These events were confirmed in Sophocles’ Philoctetes, and also perhaps in the plays of Aeschylus and Euripides with the same title. According to the publishers, fragment 2 first praises the land of Lemnos, where Hephaestion performs his famous craft, and next Neoptolemus as the son of Achilles. They also believe that in this fragment Neoptolemus is presented to Kakridis (1964), pp. 5 ff.

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somebody, perhaps Philoctetes. Here we should add that both an apostrophe to the land as well as the introduction of a character very much suggest that this is a prologue. The lack of connections between the fragments in terms of metre and contents, indicating origins from the same play, has led Eitrem and Amundsen to conclude that they actually belong to different plays. The brevity of the extant texts suggests that they were excerpts from two separate tragedies concerning Neoptolemus adapted for solo performances, i.e. converted into monodramas of sorts. Such practice was common among Hellenistic artists, and also in the later period. According to its publishers, the extant papyrus had belonged to a technites who added the music in between the texts. Even if this is true, it is quite plain we are dealing here with two examples of Hellenistic tragedy. The publishers say this is evident from not only the vocabulary and prosody, but also in the way certain themes are linked together, the dramatic description of the ghosts from Hades and above all the similarities to the tragedies of Seneca. Likewise, using a particularly obscure version of a myth is a typically Hellenistic trait. We should also note that these are two plays concerning the same main character: Neoptolemus. We do not know how much text is missing from the two fragments, but it cannot be all that considerable. On account of their different locations, it is highly unlikely that they originate from the same play – the lack of unity of time and place is simply too great. The publishers nevertheless suggest that both fragments were performed by the same artist. It is possible that they were indeed written for one actor, not so much to perform in a monodrama as in two plays, i.e. a dilogy, or perhaps even a trilogy. This actor clearly specialized in delivering rheseis and if this was a dilogy, he could have played the part of Philoctetes in one play and Odysseus in the other, in both cases he would have to present the two above rheseis on stage. We may have in fact a copy of the actor’s copy of the text with the musical notation, which was helpful to practice the art of acting before staging.

Atlas (TrGF 2 adespota F 655) PBodm XXVIII {(ΑΤΛΑΣ)} μόχθων· ἐπ’ ἄτην δευτέρα̣[ν {(ΗΡΑΚΛΗΣ)} εἶτ’ οὐκ ἐπαιδῆι τὴν μεθ’ ὁρκ̣[ίων φάτιν αἴρων παλαιόν τ’ ἀφθίτων [ {(ΑΤ.)} μήλ̣ων ἐπώμνυν δεῦρ[(ο) ἰδού̣, φέρου τόνδ’· ἄλλο δ’ οὐ̣[ ὅρκοι διεῖπαν· οὔτε τόνδ[ νώτωι βαρύν μοι μόχθον [..].[.].[ διηπάτημαι· τἆλλα δ’ εὐγενεῖ δόλ[ωι κλέπτων ἐπ’ ἄλλην πημάτων ἵξηι̣ .[ μαρτύρομαι δὲ τὴν κατ’ οὐρανὸν Θέμιν

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ὁθούν[ε]χ’ εὑρὼν οὐ δίκαιον Ἡρακλεῖ Ἄτλαντα̣, κεἰ πέφυκεν ἀφθίτων ἄπο̣, μέτειμ[ι·] κ̣εἰ γὰρ θνητά μοι τὰ μητρό̣[θεν, Δίων γ’ ἂ̣[ν] ε̣ἶ̣μεν ἄξιοι γεννητόρων. {(ΑΤ.)} ἄλλων [τὸ] ταρβεῖν, οὐκ ἐμόν· ῥώμηι τε γ̣[άρ πρῶτόν με μήτηρ Γαῖα Τιτάνων τεκ̣[εῖν αὐχεῖ Κρόνου θ’ ὅμαιμον, ὧι ποτ’ εἴχομ̣[εν _κοινὴν Ὀλύμπου τὴν ἄνω μοναρχίαν. {(ΗΡ.)} ἥ τοι πάρ[ε]δρον θν δρόμον κεκτ̣η̣μένη Δίκη̣ δέδο̣ρκεν ὀξύ, κἂν ἀπῆι μακ[ράν· κα]ὶ̣ δὴ τό[δ’] ἂ̣ν πρ̣ά̣ξαιμεν· ἢ π[ύ]γ̣αργο[ν ..(.)].[.]ναπ[.]λλων κοιράνων ὁρμωμε[ν ..]. τἀπὶ Φ[λ]έγραι γηγενῶν φρονήμ[ατα ….].λ[….]η· καὶ τὸν ἐγγελ̣ῶ̣ν̣τ’ ἐ[μοί [         έ]λθοιμ’· εἶτα δαιμ[ον [         ]ηρ λέλογχε· τ̣.[ [          ]οῖδ’ ἔχων ευν[ [          ]οὔτοι τουν̣δ̣[ [           ]αινουμ.[ [            ].ανευγε.[ και̣[…]μ̣[..]νορ.[ ὅπου γὰρ ὧδεχ[ πέποιθεν ἀλκ[..].[ θυμὸν καθημ[…]χθ[ ἐγὼ δὲ μοιρῶν [.]ν..[ ο̣ὕτω γε γραμμα̣[.]ων̣[ ἀρωγὸν εὕρω κ..τιδ[ φρούρημ’ [Ὀλ]ύμπ̣ου τη[ παῦλάν τιν’ ἥξειν π[ ἀλλ’ εἶα· μήλων ἐξοχ[ δώρημα θνητῶν οὐκ[ φυγὴν δὲ μόχθων ων̣[ παίδων γὰρ οἶμαι π.[ {ΗΡ.} ὦ δαῖμον, εἰ χρὴ τὴν [ τάξιν μ’ Ὀλυμπο̣[ {ΑΤ.} οὕτω πατρώιων ἐλπ[ νεύων ἐπ’ ἄτην μᾶλ[λον {ΗΡ.} ὦ δεινὰ τολμῶν̣ .δ..[ ξένων τ’ ἐπόπτην ου[ {(ΑΤ.)} μὴ κάμνε μόχθον̣ κα[ παλαιόν, ἐξ οὗ τήνδεκ.[ {(ΗΡ.)} ἀλλ’ εἰ τόδ’ Ἥραι τερπνὸ̣[ν π̣α̣ρ’ οὐδὲν οὕτω τἀμὰ [ ἐκεῖ]νο δ’ ἡμῖν̣ λ[υ]πρ̣[ὸν … τ]όλμαν ἔργω[ν] τ̣ῶ̣[ν



Tragedians and Tragedies …]δε κάμνων [ο]υ πυ[ … ]μ̣ηι· πάρεργον τ̣ο̣ῦ̣[το …].τα· ἔρημοι δ[ …]νδ’ ἀρωγὸν̣ το..[ τὸ]ν οὐ δίκαιον ο̣.[ [      ] [      ] [      ]αν [      ].ι [      ] [     ] [  ]υ [ ]. [ ].ι̣δων [  ]άφει· []..ε [ ]ν [   ]όνων [  ].. [] [ ]..α [      ] [ ]. [ ]τ̣οδε [  ]ραι· [  ]ρ̣ιν [ ]. [] [] [ ]ου [] [] [ ]· [   ] [   ] desunt 25 vel 55 versus τ.[ desunt 4 versus

Translation of verses 1–25 … toils, for another madness

Heracles Are you not ashamed? Among the promises … ancient … immortals?

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Atlas Apples I promised here [to bring?] Here they are, take them, other [things?] I did not [promise?] I have kept my promise, this not … A great weight on my back does not…

Heracles I have been deceived. The rest by noble ploy stealing for another’s [type of?] downfall [… I take heavenly Themis as my witness, to see that Atlas has not been honest with Heracles, though immortal by birth, I shall chase him, though mortal after my mother, Zeus is my rightful father.

Atlas Terrify others, not me, for … Mother Earth is proud to have borne me first among the Titans, kin of Kronos, with whom on Mount Olympus we ruled.

Heracles Dike, who chose to help the gods, glanced fiercely, though she resides far away and this we would do or the white tail…

In 1976 E. G. Turner published a papyrus text from the collection of Martin Bodmer that included the fragment of a play concerning Heracles and Atlas.315 This piece is traditionally called Atlas. The fragment is relatively well preserved, though what damage there is suggests that it may have been used as a filling to the leather cover of a later codex. The roll is of good quality light papyrus. The handwriting is very even, neat, clear and legible. The width of the letters and the spaces between the lines is also even. The papyrus is dated to the second century ad. It comprises two larger fragments, joined together by the original publisher, and several smaller fragments that bear only parts of phrases. Horizontal lines on the left side of the text columns mark the places where the speaker changes. Written in very small letters, one may also read notes concerning the stage. This is irrefutable evidence that the whole text was written for the stage! Moreover, all the publishers agree that the parts of Atlas and Heracles suggest it to be a satyr play.316 The play concerns the eleventh labour of Heracles. According to Pherecydes’ version of this myth, King Eurystheus ordered Heracles to steal golden apples from Turner (1976), pp. 1–23. Subsequent publications: TrGF 2, 231–5; Krumeich, Pechstein and Seidensticker (1999), pp. 624–31; Gauly (1991), pp. 256–61. Also see West (1976).

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the garden of Hesperides.317 The hero knew from Prometheus that this task could only be performed by Atlas, so he set out to ask for the Titan’s help. Resting the heavens on Heracles’ shoulders, Atlas went to take three of these famous fruits. On returning, however, the Titan decided not to give Heracles the apples and instead intended to hand them to Eurystheus himself, leaving the son of Zeus holding up the heavens. Following Prometheus’ advice, Heracles pretends to agree to this arrangement and only asks for pillows to be placed on his shoulders so that he could more easily bear the incredible burden. Not suspecting any tricks, Atlas placed the apples on the ground to hold up the heavens for a while. It was then that Heracles grabbed the apples, bid Atlas farewell and returned to King Eurystheus in Mycenae. The extant fragment presents the scene of Atlas returning from the garden with the apples. From the text it transpires that before setting out to the garden of Hesperides, Atlas and Heracles had agreed that the latter would hold up the sky while the Titan fetched the apples. Atlas keeps his promise and hands the hero the apples, saying: ‘Here they are, take them’ (ἰδού̣, φέρου τόνδ’). Of course Heracles, with his hands holding up the heavens, cannot take the apples. And indeed the agreement did not actually stipulate that Atlas should resume holding up the heavens, something that from Heracles’ point of view had seemed obvious. Thus the agreement is fulfilled, the promise kept, but Heracles feels deceived. He calls on Themis, and if she fails to avenge the broken promise, he himself intends to punish the Titan. Yet Atlas shows no fear of Zeus’ mortal son, himself being of the oldest generation of gods and former co-ruler with Kronos on Mount Olympus. The rest of the dialogue is unclear as only the first halves of the verses have survived. The agon is continued in the same tone. We do not know how Heracles goes about solving this impasse: whether he manages to put Atlas off his guard and trick the trickster, or whether he is brought out of his predicament thanks to the help of a third person, someone much brighter than he, the brawny simpleton. In Pherecydes’ version this third person was Prometheus. One cannot rule out that in the extant play this role is played by Silenus. The play’s personae are without doubt Heracles and Atlas. There is no verification of the presence of satyrs, but the nature of the play strongly suggests it. That such plays existed in the Classical period is confirmed by a so-called Morretti-Krater, a vessel made in Apulia c. 390–380.318 This vase depicts Heracles holding up the heavens and two satyrs dancing around him. One holds the hero’s bow and quiver, while the other his mace. Of course there is no direct connection between this vase and our play as the former represents something like a Doric farce or Sicilian phlyakes, yet the presence of Heracles and satyrs is very important in that these plays drew inspiration from Greek satyr plays. Our play is without doubt set in the West, where the earth and the sky meet. The dating of the play remains uncertain, but the publishers have no doubt that it is from the Classical period. A play bearing the same title is probably confirmed in an Athenian inscription recording the victory of dramatic actors in the year 255–254, Pherecyd. (FGrH 3 F 17 ap. Apollod. 2, 5, 11). ‘Morretti-Krater’, Milan, Museo Civico Archeologico AO. 9.284, photograph (Tafel 30) and description: T. Günther, R. Krumeich in Krumeich, Pechstein and Seidensticker (1999), p. 630.

317 318

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during the rule of the archon Alcibiades (SEG 26.208). However, the inscription describes the plays as [σατύροι]ς παλαιοῖς, therefore they were presumably renewed performances of older dramas.319 Moreover, we cannot be certain that this inscription has any connection with the papyrus text. Looking at this text’s metre we notice the complete absence of metric resolutions, as well as the caesura being consistently placed after the fifth foot. Such consistency is indicative of the Hellenistic era. A feature that distinguishes the papyrus text from other extant ancient dramas is the absence of the letter sigma. Though already known in the Classical period, the application of such lipogrammatic tricks is not found in any extant play of that period. One has to concede that such subtle games with the alphabet are primarily typical of the Hellenistic era and, especially on the stage, showing off this type of literary virtuosity would only seem normal in early Hellenistic theatre. We know of an author who did ‘play such games’ with text, namely Lasus of Hermione, who was active in the fourth century bc. Yet he cannot be the author of the papyrus text. Such literary games were also played in later times, as we learn from Athenaeus (10.448d). In the Roman Empire period, Nestor of Laranda lipogrammatically rewrote Homer’s Iliad, and Tryphiodorus did the same with Homer’s Odyssey. E. G. Turner sees two ways in which the papyrus drama could have come about: either it was originally written without the sigma letter, or alternatively it was an adaptation of a play originally written with the sigma letter.320 The publisher favours the latter possibility, believing the original to have been written by one of the three great tragedians. Of course, there is no evidence of Aeschylus, Sophocles or Euripides ever having written a play entitled Atlas (or about this myth). Turner, however, reminds us that not all their play titles have survived to this day (and, moreover, the play would not necessarily have had the title Atlas). Whichever way we look at it, taking a stance on this issue is merely a matter of conjecture. One cannot rule out that an original satyr play was written in Hellenistic times already with the sigma letter deliberately left out. Here one should add that the text does include the letter ξ (x), which means that the absence of sigma would not have been entirely audible to an audience. This suggests that the text was intended for reading only and perhaps also that it was indeed the lipogrammatical adaptation of an earlier drama. This is impossible to prove because there is no other evidence of such practice. Maybe it was a satyr play in which the author plays a game with the audience to show off his great literary virtuosity. This would naturally have required the recipients to be very well read and therefore the play would have been for a very select circle.321 However, we cannot rule out that in those times people were more attuned to hear the sigma sound or rather its lack, and this would include a theatre audience if it were forewarned. Perhaps scholars have underestimated how sensitive the ancient Greeks were to the spoken word. Even in Hellenistic times this was still mainly an oral culture, which could mean that people heard much more than would seem possible today. The fact remains that here we are dealing with a literary device

See Turner (1976), p. 18. Turner (1976), p. 21. 321 Also see Gallo (1991), pp. 167–8. 319 320



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used in a play that is to be found nowhere else and therefore constitutes a curiosity of sorts in the history of drama.

Cassandra (TrGF 2 adespota F 649) F1 P. Oxy. 2746 ΠΡΙΑΜΟΣ Θάρσησον, ὧ παῖ· μὴ κάμῃς· στῆσον πόδα, Καὶ σαῖσι β[ο]υλαῖς προσδέχου τὰ κρείσσ[ονα· ᾠδή ΚΑΣΣΑΝΔΡΑ Βέβληκε δεινόν κάμακα Πρ. Τίς, τέκνον; φράσον· ΧΟΡΟΣ ὁ Πηλιώτης [ ΚΑ. ἀλλ’ ἠστόχησε