Saviour Gods and Soteria in Ancient Greece 0192894110, 9780192894113

Table of contents :
Title_Pages
Dedication
Preface
List_of_Illustrations
Conventions_and_Abbreviations
IntroductionSaviour_Gods_in_Greek_Polytheism
SoteriaA_Polyvalent_Concept
Saving_the_CommunitySaviour_Gods_and_Collective_Deliverance
Individual_SalvationPersonal_Needs_and_Saving_Experiences
A_World_of_SavioursThe_Spread_of_the_Transdivine_Epithet
Between_Men_and_GodsHellenistic_Monarchs_as_Saviours
Soteria_in_Ancient_Greece_and_Early_Christianity
Conclusion
Appendix_I_Technical_Use_of____
Appendix_II_Sozon
Appendix_III_Hecate_Soteira_in_Epitaphs
Appendix_IV_Salus_and_Saviours_in_Roman_Religion
Bibliography
Index_of_Sources
Subject_Index

Citation preview

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 30/12/2021, SPi

Saviour Gods and Soteria in Ancient Greece

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Saviour Gods and Soteria in Ancient Greece THEODORA SUK FONG JIM

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Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP, United Kingdom Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries © Theodora Suk Fong Jim 2022 The moral rights of the author have been asserted First Edition published in 2022 Impression: 1 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Control Number: 2021951165 ISBN 978–0–19–289411–3 DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192894113.001.0001 Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A. Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials contained in any third party website referenced in this work.

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For my family

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Preface This book tackles the controversial notion of soteria and the bewildering plurality of gods called ‘saviour’ as a lens through which to explore larger issues concerning Greek polytheism. The idea came from a then newly published inscription from Aegae in Aeolis in Epigraphica Anatolica 2009, which speaks ambiguously of a cult of an unidentified ‘Saviour’ goddess (Soteira) on the one hand, and of a new cult of Seleucus I and Antiochus I as ‘Saviours’ (Soteres) on the other. From this arises a series of intriguing questions never tackled before: who is this ‘saviour’ goddess? What did it mean to call a divinity Soter or Soteira? What was the relationship between kings and gods similarly called ‘saviour’ in Greek antiquity? The elaborate text from Aegae is only one among several thousand inscriptions scattered all over the Greek Mediterranean which attest to a similar phenomenon. The language of ‘saving’ is ubiquitous in the Greek world and especially in the Greeks’ dealings with their gods, yet its centrality in Greek religion has long been obscured by its later prominence in Christianity. This book investigates what it meant to be ‘saved’ and the underlying concept of soteria in ancient Greece. Yet it goes beyond Greek religious vocabulary and cult epithets to investigate the lived religious experience and thought world of the Greeks. Inscriptions such as the one from Aegae constitute the most important source for this project. I was first introduced to the art of epigraphy as a graduate student at Oxford, and in the course of writing this book I have come to appreciate much more fully its importance to historians. This is especially true when studying the religious sensibility and lived experience of the Greeks, which, of all aspects of ancient Greek religion, I have always found most gripping. Yet the material for the book is not restricted to inscriptions on stone; it also includes archaeology, numismatics, prose, and poetry, and the topic reaches beyond Classical antiquity to early Christianity. The search for some of the least known archaeological sites has led me up lonely hilltops in Arcadia and down dangerous highways in modern-day Turkey. The time-span covered by these sources is also long; indeed longer than I originally intended. In the course of research it became clear that the subject of soteria cannot be restricted neatly to the Classical and Hellenistic periods, but must embrace what came both before and after it. The result is a study which spans from the late Archaic period to the early centuries of Christianity, though the focus remains on Classical and Hellenistic Greece. The writing of this book was completed in the Department of Classics and Archaeology at the University of Nottingham thanks to a period of research leave, after I first started it in the Department of History at Lancaster

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University. Various other institutions have also provided valuable facilities and stimulating environments for research: the British School at Athens, the Sackler Library at Oxford, and the Fondation Hardt at Geneva have all been superb in providing the necessary resources and intellectual stimuli. In 2020 my visit to the Center of Hellenic Studies, Harvard, had to be postponed owing to the global health crisis; nevertheless I am grateful to the CHS for its generous support with electronic resources and for the opportunity to join their lively virtual community. I would never have found the courage to tackle such a complex subject had it not been for the unfailing support and exacting standards of Robert Parker: I could not have hoped for a wiser and kinder teacher in my life. The reviewers of Oxford University Press are most perceptive in their observations and insights. Jan Bremmer, Emily Kearns, Barbara Kowalzig, and Teresa Morgan have read part or the bulk of the manuscript at various stages of its preparation and provided valuable comments. Bruno Currie, Lindsay Driediger-Murphy, Gunnel Ekroth, John Ma, and Shane Wallace kindly discussed with me specific issues. I am grateful to all of them for generously sharing their time, knowledge, and expertise, and for challenging me to bring this book to a higher standard. For technical support, I thank Sergio Quintero Cabello for producing the maps with great skill. Friends in various parts of the world have been pillars of support in the background: they all know who they are. The greatest and deepest debts I owe and can never repay are to my family: to my parents for unconditional support and the freedom to take the path less taken, to my sisters for all that they have done heroically, and to the little ones I wish I could bring with me. This book is dedicated with love to my family and to Faye, who is 26 as I write. S. F. Jim February 2021

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List of Illustrations Cover illustration: Votive relief to Asclepius from the south slope of the Athenian acropolis, Athens, Acropolis Museum, NM 1341 (© Acropolis Museum, 2012, photo by Socratis Mavrommatis). 1. Marble relief, Asklepeion at Epidauros, Archaeological Museum of Asklepeion, inv. 28 (Ephorate of Antiquities of Argolida, © Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports/Archaeological Resources Fund).

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2. Votive stele from Cyzicus, Collection Choiseul-Gouffier, Paris, musée du Louvre, MA2850 (© RMN-Grand Palais (musée du Louvre), photo by Hervé Lewandowski).

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3. Graffito of an elephant in El-Kanais, Egypt, I.Kanais 9bis (after A. E. P. Weigall, Travels in the Upper Egyptian Deserts, Edinburgh, London, 1909, pl. 31; A. Bernand, Le Paneion d’El-Kanaïs, Leiden, 1972, pl. 54.1).

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4. Votive relief to Asclepius, from the south slope of the Athenian acropolis, Athens, Acropolis Museum, NM 1341 (© Acropolis Museum, 2012, photo by Socratis Mavrommatis).

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5a. Marble column in Ras El-Soda, Egypt, Bibliotheca Alexandrina Antiquities Museum, BAAM, inv. 25788 (© Bibliotheca Alexandrina Antiquities Museum, photo by Mohamed Mounir).

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5b. Marble foot in Ras El-Soda, Egypt, Bibliotheca Alexandrina Antiquities Museum, BAAM, inv. 25789 (© Bibliotheca Alexandrina Antiquities Museum, photo by Mohamed Mounir).

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6. Marble statuette of Hygieia from Epidaurus, Athens, National Archaeological Museum, NM 272 (© Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports/Hellenic Organization of Cultural Resources Development).

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7. Map of saviour gods, Archaic period.

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8. Archaic temple of Athena Soteira and Poseidon, Vigla in Arcadia (photo by author, reproduced by the permission of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Arcadia. © Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports/Archaeological Resources Fund, N. 3028/2002). 123 9. Map of Athena Soteira.

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10. Map of joint cults of Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira.

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11. Map of saviour gods, c.479–400 .

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12. Map of saviour gods, fourth century .

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13. Map of Apollo Soter.

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14. Map of Dionysus Soter.

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15. Map of Heracles Soter.

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16a. Map of saviour gods, Hellenistic period.

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16b. Map of saviour gods in mainland Greece and Asia Minor, Hellenistic period.

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16c. Map of saviour gods in Hellenistic Egypt.

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17a. Map of saviour gods, Roman period.

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17b. Map of saviour gods in mainland Greece and Asia Minor, Roman period.

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18. Map of Zeus Soter.

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19. Map of Artemis Soteira.

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20. Map of Kore Soteira.

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21. Map of Dioscuri Soteres.

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22. Map of Asclepius Soter.

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23. Rectangular statue base in honour of Ptolemy I Soter, Egypt, CPI 605.

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24. Limestone plaque in honour of Ptolemy I and Berenice I as Theoi Soteres, in the modern village of Kom El-Ahmar in Middle Egypt, CPI 323.

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25. Rectangular limestone slab dedicated to Ptolemy V, Cleopatra I, and the Theoi Soteres, provenance unknown, CPI 584.

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Disclaimer: The author has made every reasonable effort to clear permissions for the use of Fig. 3, the elephant graffito in El-Kanais, which was first published in A. E. P. Weigall, Travels in the Upper Egyptian Deserts (Edinburgh, London, 1909), pl. 31, and subsequently reprinted in A. Bernand, Le Paneion d’El-Kanaïs (Leiden, 1972), pl. 54.1. Unfortunately the original publishing house, William Blackwood and Sons, is no longer in operation and cannot be contacted. The author would like to ask any rights-holders of this image to get in touch should any issues come to light.

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Conventions and Abbreviations Ancient authors and reference works are referred to as in OCD⁴, and occasionally LSJ (1996). Epigraphical publications are abbreviated following Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum and the recently published ‘List of Abbreviations of Editions and Works of Reference for Alphabetic Greek Epigraphy’ (accessible via https://www.aiegl.org/grepiabbr.html). Abbreviations of periodicals follow those in the American Journal of Archaeology (AJA) 95 (1991), 1–16 (as expanded at http://www.ajaonline.org), and are supplemented by those in L’Année Philologique. To the above epigraphic publications should now be added the Corpus of Ptolemaic Inscriptions, 3 vols (Oxford, 2021–). At the time of writing this book only the first volume of CPI is published, though a useful concordance of all CPI texts is provided in the appendix of A. Bowman and C. Crowther (eds) (2020), The Epigraphy of Ptolemaic Egypt (Oxford), 269–312. Translations of quoted texts, where cited from existing editions, are indicated in the footnotes. Where no translator is stated, the translations are my own. The spelling of familiar Greek names is Latinized following OCD⁴, whereas Greek personal names in inscriptions are Hellenized. All dates refer to  unless otherwise indicated.

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Introduction ‘Saviour’ Gods in Greek Polytheism

At some point during the fourth century , a workman in Athens brought an offering to the shrine of Asclepius. ‘Saved’ apparently from some ‘mighty rocks’, he thanked Asclepius with a marble relief, depicting himself and his mules drawing a wagon and approaching the god and his family. Was he injured in a landslide together with his animals, but fortunately restored to health by the god? Far away from the Greek mainland, in Byblos in Syria, Apollodoros set up a stone altar to a god whose name is no longer preserved, but who carries the epithet ‘[S]aviour’ ([S]oter): the inscription tells us that the god had saved him from the trembling of the earth. In Kollyda in Lydia, a married couple set up a marble altar to Zeus ‘for the safety (soteria) of themselves and their children’ after two people were struck dead by lightning. They were not, as one might expect, praying for the ‘salvation’ of the deceased (perhaps their acquaintances?), but their own selfpreservation from the anger of the god.¹ At first sight there appears to be nothing which connects these snapshots, taken from the lives of little-known individuals separated by time and place. Yet their different hopes and experiences are expressed similarly with the cognate words sozein (‘to save’), Soter (‘saviour’), and soteria (‘deliverance’, ‘preservation’, ‘safety’). The same language is used in innumerable prayers, dedications, and sacrifices all over the Greek world to invoke the gods, asking them for protection, safety, and deliverance—this is arguably the blessing most frequently sought in the exchange of charis between man and gods. But what did it mean to be ‘saved’ in a religion without doctrine, and to whom should the Greeks appeal in a world where multiple gods reigned? This book is about the multiplicity of ‘saviour’ gods and the associated blessing of soteria which they could dispense or withdraw. It focuses on the power of ‘saviour’ gods in the lives of the Greeks, how worshippers searched for soteria as they confronted the unknown and unknowable, and what this can reveal about their hopes and beliefs. The concept of soteria had close, and even entangled, relations with Christianity. The word is also used in Christian writings, not least the New Testament, to signify deliverance from the consequences of sin and attainment ¹ IG II/III² 4356 = IG II/III³ 4, 672 (fourth century ); Dussaud (1896), 299 (undated); TAM V.1 360 (33/4 ).

Saviour Gods and Soteria in Ancient Greece. Theodora Suk Fong Jim, Oxford University Press. © Theodora Suk Fong Jim 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192894113.003.0001

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of a blessed afterlife through the mediation of Christ the Saviour. Yet as the above episodes show, the concept goes back to Greek antiquity, where it had a different meaning or meanings and entailed a different experience. Its centrality in ancient Greek religion, however, has been obscured by its later importance in Christianity. In their concern not to impose Christian notions on Greek polytheism, many historians may have avoided the Greek concept altogether; or perhaps they have simply taken it for granted given its prevalence in Greek society. Either way, the result is that its place in Greek religion is left largely unexplored. Where Greek soteria is occasionally discussed, scholars have sometimes anachronistically attributed aspects to the Greek notion which were alien to it.² The challenge for historians therefore is to set aside our own cultural assumptions and expectations, and to rethink what we think we know about the Greek word by a thorough examination of the concept in its ancient context. Yet this book is not simply about the Greek concept and religious language. At the heart of the present study is the lived religious experience and thought world of the Greeks, which the religious vocabulary and cult epithets can help to unravel. What did the Greeks have in mind when calling a god ‘saviour’? How did they imagine and experience soteria? This book’s particular emphasis is on worshippers’ religious world-views, and how their choices and behaviour were shaped by their beliefs and perceptions of the divine. After about two decades of lively debates on the term ‘belief ’, and the extent to which it can apply to the study of ancient Greek religion, most historians now agree that ‘belief ’ is a useful and even necessary interpretative tool in understanding Greek religion, that is, if the term is used broadly in a sense devoid of Christian overtones, and if important distinctions are recognized between belief in Greek polytheism and that in Christianity. In the present study ‘belief ’ refers to worshippers’ religious world-view, presuppositions, and statements about the gods. Nevertheless, beyond this broad consensus the investigation of belief seems to have come to a standstill, and much remains unresolved as to how we can penetrate the beliefs of ancient worshippers and explore the variety of beliefs they entertained.³ The study of soteria is closely intertwined with these issues. Not only is the experience of soteria one of the clearest contexts where belief comes into play, it also illuminates a spectrum of beliefs ranging from everyday dependence on divine protection to more heightened beliefs in the miraculous and extraordinary. In particular, this study will investigate worshippers’ beliefs through the lens of divine naming—names and cult titles of gods—which remain a relatively new area of enquiry in Classics.⁴ Despite increased scholarly interest in cult epithets and divine names, the focus ² See Chapter 0.4 below on existing scholarship. ³ Recent discussions of belief: Parker (2011), 31–4; Versnel (2011), esp. 539–59; the useful review article by Harrison (2015); Pirenne-Delforge (2020), ch. 6; Anderson (forthcoming). ⁴ Theoretical analyses of Greek cult epithets: Usener (1948); Parker (2003); Belayche et al. (2005); Brulé (2007); Parker (2017a); Bonnet et al. (2018), and forthcoming work from Bonnet’s ERC project.

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has been on their theoretical analysis, whereas their potential as a means of gaining access to worshippers’ deepest fears and desires has yet to be exploited.⁵ The present study will engage with cult epithets—focusing on Soter (‘saviour’), Soteira (‘saviouress’), and the like—as a different angle from which to approach the religious thought world of the Greeks. Soteria for the Greeks, this book will demonstrate, had little or nothing to do with the afterlife; eschatological hopes, while present among the Greeks, were not normally expressed in the language of soteria. Unlike the Christian use of the word, soteria for the ancient Greeks could have a gradation of graver or less serious meanings depending on context, but almost without exception always with reference to this world rather than the next. The English word ‘salvation’ is potentially misleading in this respect: historians often use it loosely to refer to the afterlife in Greek antiquity, when the Greek words and ideas expressing such hopes are in fact not soteria; this only furthers the conflation or confusion between ancient and modern concepts of soteria.⁶ It is therefore preferable to translate the Greek soteria instead as ‘deliverance’, ‘preservation’, ‘safety’, ‘rescue’, or similar. Nevertheless, as we shall see in this study, none of these English terms can capture the full range of meanings of the Greek notion of soteria, and one translation or another may be more suitable depending on context. It is the multivalent nature of the concept and the diversity of experiences it encompasses which makes the subject so challenging and yet so fascinating. Not only will the present study show that the importance of soteria long predates the rise of Christianity, it will also demonstrate that soteria for the Greeks entailed a different experience or experiences from the one that we, after two millennia of Christian traditions, have come to associate with the term. If Greek soteria had little or no relation with the afterlife, what, then, did the Greeks need to be ‘saved’ from, and what did soteria consist in? The motif of divine ‘saving’ and ‘deliverance’ is a prominent theme already in the Homeric epics, but it is probably not until the Persian Wars, when the Greeks were confronted with an unprecedented external threat, that the concern for ‘salvation’ and ‘deliverance’ of the Greeks came to be conceptualized and expressed by the word soteria.⁷ From then on it was used by the Greeks in a range of meanings in a wide variety of situations. For individuals, soteria might concern safety at sea, deliverance from war, material security, physical well-being, and so on. For communities, it could be military victory, liberation from internal or external

⁵ But see the insights of Scheid (2003), 35: ‘to discover the theology behind the practice, we shall focus on the name of the deity, the deity’s epithets, the objects surrounding the deity’s religious image, and the ritual actions performed around it’; Parker (2017a), 173: ‘naming—so all modes of address, including epithets—is essential to a study of ancient and perhaps modern religious psychology’. ⁶ e.g. Parker (1983), 281–307, on ‘Purity and Salvation’; Adluri (2013), Philosophy and Salvation in Greek Religion, and its various chapters. ⁷ See Chapter 1.

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threats, relief from famine, or deliverance from other natural disasters. Unlike some studies in Greek religion which emphasize the role of either the polis or the individual at the expense of the other,⁸ this study will attend both to individuals and to collectives, and demonstrate that the two perspectives are compatible and provide the necessary complement to each other. Subsequent chapters will examine more closely the diversity of ‘saving’ experiences of communities and their members, and the possible interactions and influence between them.⁹ Whatever the situation and the object concerned, soteria implies safety or preservation from some force threatening it, whether real or potential, encountered or perceived. Underlying the concern for soteria is the Greek world-view about the unpredictability of divine action and the instability of human fortune. The importance attached to soteria in Greek antiquity is further demonstrated in the many Greek personal names beginning with the root sos-.¹⁰ Whether they relate to personal circumstances at birth or in life, these personal names must reflect to a certain extent the hopes and desires of individuals.¹¹ Their prevalence is one index of the deeply-seated need for soteria in Greek society.

0.1 What Are ‘Saviour’ Gods? Epithets, Power, and Divine Nature The seemingly simple, yet notoriously difficult, question of ‘what is a god’ has stimulated lively discussions among historians.¹² What, then, is a ‘saviour god’, and how did a god become a ‘saviour’? The earliest known literary references to Greek gods as soteres are in the Homeric Hymns, where the word refers to Poseidon and the Dioscuri in their capacity to save at sea. From at least the late Archaic period, Soter came to be applied as a cult epithet to an increasing number of major and lesser gods. So quickly did the epithet spread from one god to another and from place to place that, by the end of the Hellenistic period, there was hardly any region in the Greek Mediterranean where we do not find traces of divine ‘saviours’. A god might be called Soter in thanks for and commemoration of the deliverance he effected for an individual or community; the epithet was usually, though not exclusively, used retrospectively after divine aid. But one

⁸ See n. 53 below. ⁹ See Chapters 2 and 3. ¹⁰ Female personal names: e.g. Σώτειρα, Σωτηρία, Σωτηρίς, Σωτηρίχα. Male personal names: e.g. Σωζόμενος, Σώσανδρος, Σωσθένης, Σωσίβιος, Σωσιγένης, Σωσίδημος, Σωσίθεος, Σωσίπολις, Σώσιμος, Σῶσος, Σωτήρ, Σωτήριος, Σωτήριχος. Particularly popular were Σωτήριχος and Σωσίβιος, attested in 356 and 264 instances respectively across all regions according to LGPN online. Interestingly, some of these (Soter, Soteira, Sosipolis) also served as divine names or cult epithets, but the Greeks saw no problem in using them as personal names. ¹¹ On the value of personal names as evidence, see Hornblower and Matthews (eds) (2000). ¹² e.g. Loraux (1991); Lloyd and Burkert (1997); Parker (2011), 64–102.

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could also call upon a god as Soter before a risky enterprise or during a crisis.¹³ Depending on the means, initiatives, and vows of worshippers and worshipping communities, a momentary address to a god as Soter might sometimes be transformed into a permanent cult for the god under that title.¹⁴ More often than not, however, the evidence does not permit us to determine whether an established cult under that epithet lay behind a reference to a Soter, and therefore in this study I have included occurrences of the epithet regardless of whether a permanent cult is attested, and whether Soter was used as a permanent epithet or temporary form of address. Until recently, divine names and epithets have remained probably the most under-studied aspect of the divine, and yet this is one of the most illuminating areas for analysing the gods and the Greeks’ perceptions of them. A cult epithet is, at the most basic level, a ‘focusing’ device for identifying or focusing attention on a particular aspect of divine power or a particular cult site of a god.¹⁵ Thus Zeus Meilichios singles out Zeus’ ‘kindly’ aspect from his other faces, whereas Zeus Panamaros picks out his cult in Panamara from his many sanctuaries in Asia Minor. Innumerable cult epithets are attested in the Greek world and new ones continue to be brought to light with new epigraphic finds. Some of these epithets were specific to a single deity—such as Phoibos (‘Pure’, ‘Radiant’) for Apollo, and Phytalmios (‘Producing’, ‘Nourishing’) for Poseidon, whereas others could apply to more than one god in the Greek pantheon as the divine function they denoted was not the preserve of a single divinity—such as Epekoos (‘Listener’), Epiphanes (‘Manifest’), Hegemon (‘Leader’), and Soter (‘Saviour’). Soter was by far the most popular and widely shared ‘trans-divine’ epithet of this latter kind.¹⁶ Usually used to invoke a god’s ‘saving’ power within a circumscribed field, Soter could be borne independently by different gods who could lay claim, if in varying ways, to the power to ‘save’. Consequently we shall encounter many divinities similarly called Soter in the masculine, or Soteira in the feminine: Apollo Soter, Heracles Soter, Zeus Soter, Athena Soteira, Artemis Soteira, Kore Soteira, to name but a few. This system of cult epithets raises important questions about the unity and multiplicity of the divine. Given that multiple epithets could be applied to the same god, how much difference is there between the innumerable Zeuses bearing different epithets? On one level Zeus Meilichios simply represented an aspect of

¹³ e.g. Arr. Anab. 6.19.4–5, Indica 20.10, 21.2: Nearchus sacrificed to Zeus Soter before setting sail. ¹⁴ e.g. Xen. An. 3.2.9, 4.8.25: the Greek troops sacrificed to Zeus Soter and other gods in fulfilment of a vow, and instituted games and contests in their honour. On cults founded by private individuals, see e.g. IG IV 840 = IG IV².2 1236; IG IV 841; I.Egypte métriques, no. 109. ¹⁵ Parker (2003); Parker (2017a), ch. 1. Note that a theonym can be combined with both types of epithets, the topographical and the functional, and it is not uncommon to find Soter being attached to a double cultic name: e.g. [Ἀ]π̣όλλωνι Κενδρεισηνῳ σωτῆρι (IGBulg III 919), Ἀπόλλωνι Νισυρείτῃ σωτῆρι (SEG XLIX 1718), Ἀρτέμιδι Περγαίαι Σωτείρα[ι] (IG XII.3 1350), and Ἀπόλ[λωνι] Διδυμεῖ Σωτῆρι (IG XII.4 566). ¹⁶ Brulé (2007), 329, uses the phrase ‘épiclèses trans-divines’.

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Zeus, and therefore was not intrinsically different from Zeus without any epithet or with other epithets. But on another level Zeus Meilichios could be depicted with a different iconography, was invoked separately from Zeus under another epithet, and received different offerings and cultic actions, as if he had an autonomous status.¹⁷ Drawing on cognitive dissonance theories, Versnel resolves this apparent paradox by arguing for the capacity of the human brain to entertain multiple perceptions of the divine, and to shift from one conception to another by switching between different registers, so that ‘gods bearing the same name with different epithets were and were not one and the same, depending on their momentary registrations in the believer’s various layers of perception’. Given the Greeks’ ability to shift their perception unconsciously from one image of Zeus to another, the multiplicity of Zeuses in the Greek world was perhaps taken for granted by the ancients: to ordinary Greeks it was probably a non-issue, even though it may seem problematic to us today.¹⁸ The phenomenon of ‘trans-divine’ epithets, however, raises a further set of questions. If the application of different epithets to the same god could create, as it were, different gods, to what extent then did the sharing of the same epithet by different gods render them similar in character and function? How much difference was there between the plurality of gods called Soter? These are some questions which we shall explore in the course of this study.¹⁹ If the Greek ‘saviour’ gods did not grant ‘salvation’ after death, what power did they actually exercise, and how did they affect the everyday life of the Greeks? In comic fantasy, the birds in Cloudcuckooland imagine themselves as new gods dispensing blessings to mankind: protection of crops, health, wealth, longevity, happiness, life, peace, youth, laughter, dances, festivals, and even bird’s milk.²⁰ To this fairly impressive list of divine functions we may add sustenance of life, marriage, childbirth, child-rearing, coming of age, law and order, justice, political stability, military victory, trade, craft, and so on. Though involved in many of these spheres of life, ‘saviour’ gods were not normally the source of the above blessings; instead, their role was to maintain worshippers’ existing well-being (soteria) in these fields, or they might be called upon to lend aid in times of trouble so that the equilibrium in life could be restored and a state of safety or security be attained. Under normal circumstances the Greeks were unlikely to invoke Zeus Soter for rain and fertility of the fields. Agricultural prosperity was usually subsumed within regular sacrifices for ‘the health and safety’ of the polis, and only when crop failure became a reality would we see the Greeks praying to Zeus Soter ¹⁷ A much-cited example is Xen. An. 7.8.1–6, where Xenophon, despite his regular worship of Zeus Basileus, had incurred the wrath of Zeus Meilichios for not sacrificing to him. On Zeus Meilichios, see Cook (1914–40), vol. 2.2, 1091–1160; Jameson, Jordan, and Kotansky (1993), 81–103. ¹⁸ Versnel (2011), esp. ch. 1, quotation at 82 (Versnel’s italics). Non-issue: but see a rare instance of reflection by Socrates in Xen. Symp. 8.9. ¹⁹ See Chapter 4. ²⁰ Ar. Av. 586ff., 731–4, 1061–71. On areas of divine intervention, see also Mikalson (1983), 18–26; Burkert (1987), 12–29; Parker (2005b), chs 17–18.

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explicitly for favourable weather conditions.²¹ They were unlikely to invoke Zeus Soter for military success unless in situations of military crisis, and so on.²² When the Greeks called upon Zeus Soter, they were not invoking a different god from Zeus without an epithet, but a particular aspect of divine power subsumed within Zeus’ divine persona. It was usually only when specific needs for ‘deliverance’, ‘protection’, and ‘rescue’ arose that the Greeks would activate this aspect of divine power by invoking the gods under the epithet Soter. It can therefore be hard to identify the workings of ‘saviour’ gods outside specific situations when the Greeks needed deliverance from particular troubles. The power to ‘save’ was a subset of the gods’ multivalent power, and in many ways the most important. Multifarious as divine involvement might be, the interventions of ‘saviour’ gods were most clearly discernible in those areas involving the greatest dangers and human anxieties. Warfare and seafaring gave rise to the largest number of divine ‘saviours’: Zeus, Artemis, Athena, and Heracles were all popular military ‘saviours’, and Zeus, Apollo, Artemis, Athena, the Dioscuri, Heracles, Isis, Poseidon, and Tyche, among others, are all attested as maritime ones, if with varying frequency. Political liberation from internal and external threats tended to be attributed to Zeus Soter, as was deliverance from natural catastrophes such as earthquakes.²³ Cures from particular illnesses could be sought from Asclepius as well as, though less often, his family members and Isis, whereas Apollo presided over plagues.²⁴ These are just some broad spheres in which ‘saviour’ gods were at work. Their ‘saving’ operations were more highly varied than can be outlined here, and subsequent chapters will demonstrate the diverse nature of these gods and their wide-ranging power in the life of the Greeks. Among the plurality of ‘saviour’ figures available for help, Zeus was probably the most popular in the Greek world. He was invoked in so many spheres of life other than the military and political that, as a speaker in Alexis puts it, Zeus Soter was by far the ‘most useful’ (χρησιμώτατος) of gods to mortals.²⁵ Little less impressive was the range of ‘saving’ functions of his daughter Artemis. Not only could she intervene in military operations, she was also, inter alia, a protectress of the household and a saviouress in sailing. As the examples of Zeus and Artemis demonstrate, the multiplicity of divine power was the mark of a major Olympian figure; by contrast, the power of minor divinities was much more delimited. Asclepius and Hygieia specialized in healing, the Dioscuri in maritime rescue, Eileithyia in childbirth, and so on. Heroes, though they could also ‘save’, rarely ²¹ e.g. a group of villagers prayed to Zeus Chalazios Sozon (‘Zeus of Hail who Saves’) in Hasluck (1904), 21–3, no. 4. Other instances related to agriculture will be discussed in Chapters 2 and 3. ²² See especially Chapter 2. ²³ Political liberation: I.Priene 11 = I.Priene IK 6, and other examples in Chapter 2. Earthquakes: Dussaud (1896), 299; I.Anazarbos, no. 49; Aristid. Or. 49.38–41 (Hieroi Logoi III) Keil. ²⁴ See Chapters 2 and 3. But neither Asclepius nor Apollo was frequently called Soter in these particular spheres as they were the chief averters of diseases even without the epithet. ²⁵ Alexis fr. 234 K.–A. = Ath. 15.693a.

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      

carried cult epithets as their power was limited to specific functions in restricted localities.²⁶ It is important to realize, however, that the demarcation of timai between different gods is not as rigid as we may think; overlaps, extensions, and even changes in divine functions are not uncommon. Contrary to what we might expect, Asclepius Soter could also, exceptionally, be a god of the battlefield and a saviour at sea.²⁷ Such transgressions are nevertheless restricted and temporary, and the established powers of the different gods usually held one another in check.²⁸ Despite their potential to ‘save’, it would be misleading to assume that ‘saviour’ gods were necessarily benevolent helpers of mankind. In fact many of them were major Olympian figures with both a dark and a positive side. Thus Zeus Chalazios Sozon (‘Zeus of Hail who Saves’) could send or withdraw rain and hail at his will, and might have been conceptualized differently from the usual Zeus Soter. Apollo could send plague as well as cure it. Poseidon could cause storms to rise just as he could quell them. In one of the episodes which we shall examine later in greater detail, Poseidon Soter saved the Greek navy, not by protecting it from a storm, but by wrecking the enemy forces.²⁹ Asclepius and the Dioscuri are exceptions to this in bringing only aid rather than harm to mankind. How, then, did the Greeks deal with the multifaceted power of the gods as a simultaneous source of evil and blessings? Versnel’s idea of shifting foci mentioned earlier is illuminating in this respect: the human cognitive system could accommodate different and even contradictory perceptions of, say, Poseidon as a ‘saviour’ who was himself a most dangerous destructive force. Yet the insights of Versnel and Parker could be complemented and pushed further by considering the function of the epithet. In the Greeks’ dealings with their gods, the epithet Soter probably provided a means of coping with the multivalent nature of divine power. By focusing attention on the ‘saving’ aspect of the gods, the epithet could bring to the fore the positive and protective aspect of a divine persona, allowing the other, threatening aspects of divine power to recede temporarily into the background. In other words, the epithet was a lens by which worshippers could focus on one aspect of the god and distance themselves from others. In his discussion of God in the Old Testament, the biblical scholar Westermann distinguishes between what he calls the ‘saving god’, who intervenes in crises, and the ‘blessing god’, who keeps the world running by providing rain, crops, and so on. This is a variant of the distinction in anthropology between ‘high-intensity’ and ‘low-intensity’ rituals.³⁰ It is tempting to think, from what we have just seen, that the Greek ‘saviour’ gods were predominantly responsible for ‘saving’ rather ²⁶ Heroes: some rare examples are Achilles Soter in the Black Sea (IGDOP 50), Sosipolis in Elis (Paus. 6.20.2–5, 6.25.4). See also other heroes and heroines in Kearns (1990). ²⁷ IG II/III² 4357 = IG II/III³ 4, 673; IG IV².1 128.57–78; AvP VIII.3, no. 63. ²⁸ Parker (2005b), 388; Parker (2011), 87. ²⁹ Hdt. 7.192, to be discussed in Chapter 1. ³⁰ Westermann (1979), 26–9, 44–5. Anthropological distinction: see e.g. Van Baal (1976).

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than ‘blessing’. However, as will become clear as we proceed, they had a ‘blessing’ aspect as much as a ‘saving’ one; that is, they preserved the general well-being of worshippers as well as providing rescue in emergencies. Compared to divine interventions in the military and maritime spheres, less dramatic and less readily visible in the evidence are their roles in such areas of life as childcare, craft, trade, marriage, and agriculture.³¹ It is hard to see ‘saviour’ gods in action in these fields as they did not bring immediate benefit or tangible protection. Yet the Greeks could put their children, household, craftwork, property, crops, and animals under divine protection by praying for soteria. In the day-to-day experience of the Greeks, most of the time ‘saviour’ gods would remain in the background almost unnoticed, preserving the order of the world. It is often only when things went wrong—family illness, crop failure, natural disasters—that the Greeks might invoke a relevant god for specialized aid. Whichever terminology we employ to characterize these two aspects of divine ‘saviours’, the distinction thus made between them is not clear-cut. It is blurred and fluid since the preservation of existing well-being and the deliverance from actual troubles are but two sides of the same coin. No sooner does a man come off safe from danger than he worries about how long his well-being will last.³² Many thank-offerings commemorating divine deliverance from a crisis would therefore pray also for continued divine protection, which shows that their dedicators had both the past and the future in mind. ‘Saviour’ gods and the soteria they dispensed were both precautionary and crisis-related, both preventive and curative. Instead of focusing on a particular ‘saving’ action in isolation or putting it in one fixed category or another, we need to see it as part of a continuum of human experiences oscillating constantly between safety and danger.

0.2 Human Beings as ‘Saviours’ So far we have mentioned Olympian gods and lesser divine figures called Soter. Yet the word ‘saviour’ was by no means a preserve of the gods; the Greeks also used it of human beings who performed a major or lesser service.³³ Some of these individuals were so called momentarily in a sudden outburst of gratitude without any implication of cultic worship, whereas others—especially Hellenistic kings and Roman emperors—were given the title permanently in cult and worship. ³¹ But see Eur. Med. 14–15 for a rare application of soteria to marriage: the nurse reflects that the greatest soteria is when a woman is not at variance with her husband. Here soteria denotes a state of married life which is free of trouble. ³² On human life as a mixture of good and bad fortune, see e.g. Hom. Il. 24.527ff.; Solon, fr. 13 West, with commentary in Noussia-Fantuzzi (2010); Aesch. Supp. 93–5; Eur. HF 62, IT 475–8. ³³ Much rarer in the evidence are non-royal women called soteira: e.g. Eur. Heracl. 588 (Heracles’ daughter); TAM V.1 535 (a prophetess); Bean and Mitford (1965), 43, no. 47 (probably a nurse or wife of a physician).

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      

Whether human or divine, one might be called Soter for the ‘saving’ (in graver or less serious senses of the word) he performed or was expected to perform.³⁴ From this arise interesting questions of whether the title of Soter was a mark of divinity, and the extent to which monarchs formally honoured under this epithet were on a par with the traditional gods. Alongside our analysis of ‘saviour’ gods, we shall explore how human beings were recognized as such and how their roles compared to that of divine ‘saviours’. In particular, the cults of Hellenistic kings formally called Soter—such as Demetrius Poliorketes, Ptolemy I, and Antiochus I—will form the subject of a chapter.³⁵ Instead of limiting our investigation narrowly to a particular category of ‘saviours’, or dismissing applications of soter to human beings as ‘non-religious’, a richer and more thorough understanding of the phenomenon can be achieved by bringing together various kinds of saviours. The crossover between divine epithets and royal nomenclature, and the different forces with which the same word was used of different agents, may prove particularly illuminating for Greek conceptions of ‘saviour’ and the values attached to it.

0.3 Saviour Gods and the Study of Greek Polytheism The last few decades have seen a multiplicity of new paradigms in the study of Greek religion. Instead of focusing on ritual practices, origins, and evolutionary developments, which had dominated scholarly interest for much of the twentieth century, there has been a shift of focus back to the gods themselves: the complex working of Greek polytheism, the system of relations between the gods, the theology behind it, and ways of conceptualizing and experiencing the divine.³⁶ How, then, does the study of ‘saviour’ gods fit into these existing paradigms? To what extent can the plurality of ‘saviour’ gods be analysed by using recent approaches, and can the phenomenon in turn put these frameworks to the test, thereby confirming, nuancing, or refining their insights? We have seen how a major god like Zeus Soter and Artemis Soteira could operate in many different spheres of activity; at the same time a particular area of life might involve a number of gods variously associated with it. According to the

³⁴ Gods and human beings aside, inanimate objects might occasionally be described as soter or soteira for their protective functions: e.g. Soph. Eurypylus fr. 211 line 12 Radt: a spearhead as soteira (ὦ λόγχα, σώτ[ειρα πατρός]). Pl. Symp. 209d4–6: in their role as the guardian of the city, Lycurgus’ laws are referred to as the ‘saviours of Sparta’ (σωτῆρες τῆς Λακεδαίμονος). Gow–Page, HE, Posidippus XI: the famous lighthouse on Pharos in Alexandria was referred to as ‘saviour of the Greeks’ (Ἑλλήνων σωτήρ), as it was built ‘for the safety of mariners’ (Strabo: 17.1.6, 791: τῆς τῶν πλοιζομένων σωτηρίας χάριν). ³⁵ See Chapter 5. ³⁶ See nn. 37–8 below, and the more recent analyses of e.g. Bremmer and Erskine (2010) (with bibliography at 23 n. 21); Parker (2011), 64–102; Versnel (2011); Bonnet, Pirenne-Delforge, and Pironti (eds) (2016); Bonnet et al. (2016).

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‘structuralist’ approach advanced by Vernant and Detienne,³⁷ when different gods were involved in the same domain, each of them would contribute to it in a different way. How that difference is described is controversial; in early formulations a mode of activity was identified that was distinct to a particular god, but that approach has come to be faulted by Detienne himself as too close to the old method of differentiating gods through a small number of distinct traits.³⁸ However that may be, in some contexts one can make a case for different gods involved in the same sphere in different ways. To take seafaring as an example, while Poseidon could potentially save by stopping turbulence at sea, Athena could intervene by her metis and her art of navigation. Zeus exercised sovereignty over the sky and the weather, Aphrodite could exercise her calming influence at sea, and the Dioscuri could journey on horseback to rescue men from tempests or appear in the form of twin stars and provide guiding light.³⁹ Despite overlaps in their general functions, therefore, different gods complemented each other by contributing their distinct mode of operation, and each could lay claim, in varying ways, to the power to ‘save’. Often, however, it is difficult and somewhat arbitrary, at least on the basis of the evidence available to us, to see the particular contribution of a particular ‘saviour’ god. Unlike some literary narratives detailing the military aid lent by Artemis Soteira, the interventions of Zeus Soter in this and other spheres cannot be observed in detail: we hardly, if ever, see him in action. In connection to one of the most important episodes of Greek history to be discussed later, namely the expulsion of the Galatians from Delphi in 279 , Zeus was honoured as Soter with sacrifices and a grand festival when he was not even, or at least not explicitly, involved in protecting the sanctuary.⁴⁰ The most perhaps we can say is that, since in a sense ‘everything comes from Zeus’, any major act of saving must ultimately come from him. Again, where Zeus Soter was juxtaposed with other ‘saviour’ gods in the same sphere of life, it is not always easy to tell how each of them contributed to the soteria of the communities or individuals concerned. In a late dedication apparently related to deliverance from an earthquake, addressed jointly to Zeus Soter, Poseidon Asphaleios (‘Securer’), and Ge Hedraia (‘Steadfast’), it is unclear why Zeus should be involved in the domain of his brother, and how they complemented each other in protecting the area concerned.⁴¹ Poseidon and Ge have clear ³⁷ Some classic studies are e.g. Detienne and Vernant (1974); Vernant (1980a); Vernant (1983); Vernant (1991), 195–206, 246–50. ³⁸ Detienne (1997); Detienne (1998). ³⁹ A good recent book on different maritime gods is Fenet (2016). On the opposing relations between Poseidon and Aphrodite as gods of the sea, see Pirenne-Delforge (1994), 434–7. ⁴⁰ The event, to be discussed in Chapter 2, is referred to in Callim. Hymn 4, 171ff., Galatea, fr. 378–9; Diod. Sic. 22.9; Paus. 1.4.4, 10.19.5–10.23; Just. Epit. 24.4–8; Cic. Div. 1.37, 81. Sacrifice and festivals: IG XII.4 68, and other documents in Nachtergael (1977), appendices II–III. ⁴¹ I.Anazarbos, no. 49.

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      

specific roles: Poseidon Asphaleios could stop the tremor of the earth, whereas Ge Hadraia was the earth-goddess who remained steadfast. Yet again here Zeus was involved only in the broad general sense that ultimately he controlled everything that occurs. A different case is the frequent pairing of Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira attested in various parts of Greece: it is only a supposition that Athena contributed metis to complement the power wielded by Zeus, as the sources do not make explicit how they ‘saved’ together.⁴² Perhaps relevant is the picture in the Homeric poems of Athena as Zeus’ agent, bringing about his will through direct action.⁴³ The frequent combination of Athena Soteira with Zeus Soter in cult and in prayers may also be a manifestation of the goddess’ genealogical and cultic relations with her mighty father, rather than a reflection of their complementary modes of actions. We are vividly reminded of representations of her unusual birth in Attic vase-paintings, where Athena emerged, but was not yet fully separated from, her father, as if she was integrally related to Zeus.⁴⁴ How sharply aware the Greeks were of the different contributions of different ‘saviour’ gods is hard to determine. What we see is their perception of a shared power to save, expressed by the trans-divine epithet Soter.⁴⁵ So important is this aspect of their power that the name of gods is sometimes suppressed, leaving us with anonymous gods such as Theoi Soteres (‘Saviour Gods’) or the bare epithet Soter or Soteira,⁴⁶ which emphasizes the saving power of the god rather than its identity. As we shall see throughout this study, the composition, prominence, and functions of ‘saviour’ gods varied considerably from one local pantheon to another; yet traditional structuralism has little scope for accommodating change across time and space. Even when a homonymous god bore the same epithet Soter, his power could vary notably from place to place, and hence arises the earlier question about the multiplicity and unity of the divine. What structuralism does not explain is why some gods’ power could be activated in certain situations and localities, but remained dormant or absent in others. While some ‘saviours’ (such as Zeus and Artemis) were almost universally worshipped, if with different local emphases, other gods appeared only in particular localities as saviours and might exercise prominent saving functions not familiar to us from their usual share of timai in their Panhellenic persona. One such example we shall encounter is Hecate: neither prominent nor popular in the Greek mainland, Hecate Soteira

⁴² Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira: e.g. Lycurg. Leoc. 17 (Piraeus); I.Rhamnous, nos. 22, 26, 31 (Rhamnus); Diog. Laert 5.16 (Stagira); IG XII.4 279, 350, 358, 370, 407 (Cos); SEG LIX 1406 A (Aigai in Aiolis). ⁴³ e.g. Hom. Il. 4.70–2. Cf. Aristid. Or. 37.28 Keil, on the notion that Athena was the power (δύναμις) of Zeus. ⁴⁴ Birth of Athena: Hes. Theog. 924–9; LIMC II.1 s.v. Athena, nos. 343–64. ⁴⁵ Some other epithets come closer to denoting a deity’s mode(s) of action, e.g. Aphrodite Euploia (‘Fair-Sailing’) in Paus. 1.1.3, IG II/III² 2872, IOSPE I² 168; Aphrodite Galenaia (‘Calmer’) in Callim. Epigr. 5 and Gow–Page, GP, Philodemus XV = Anth. Pal. 10.21. ⁴⁶ Jim (2015); Graf (2017). See also Chapter 4.4 on anonymous saviour gods.

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was a mighty goddess in Lagina who delivered her city from major military crises through her manifestations.⁴⁷ Her centrality at Lagina seems to stand in sharp contrast with her attributes in other parts of Greece, so much so that we may wonder whether this is the same Hecate as the one(s) elsewhere.⁴⁸ Similar issues have been tackled in a seminal article by Sourvinou-Inwood. Using the case study of Persephone at Locri, where the goddess apparently presided over wedding and marriage rather than appearing in her usual form as a goddess of fertility or the underworld, she reminded us that we cannot simply extrapolate a god’s local personality from his Panhellenic one or from one local cult to that of another, as divine personality could be affected by a community’s circumstances as they developed.⁴⁹ Early structuralism’s emphasis on a single mode of activity gives, as has often been pointed out, too static a picture, when in practice a community’s changing needs and circumstances might help to shape the perception, personality, and functions of an existing divinity or give rise to new cults of ‘saviours’.⁵⁰ Far from being fixed and clearly-defined, the function, personality, and composition of ‘saviour’ gods could be continually configured and re-configured, albeit within certain limits, according to the experiences, needs, and decisions of communities and individuals. The role of individuals is not to be neglected or under-estimated in the process. As we shall see in subsequent chapters, worshippers might coin new epithets or apply an epithet to a god hitherto not so called according to their own circumstances. The same deity with the same epithet might be interpreted differently by different individuals or by the same individual in different contexts. The open nature of Greek polytheism afforded individuals much freedom of choice as well as thought: the same worshipper need not always appeal to the same god or set of gods when dealing with similar situations.⁵¹ How individuals made choices as to which ‘saviour’ to turn to in their moment of need, and what their decisions might reveal about their beliefs and perceptions of the divine, are important questions which we shall explore in this study. It is only relatively recently that the role of private individuals has been coming back into focus in the study of Greek religion.⁵² Contrary to some recent critiques, this

⁴⁷ Hecate Soteira at Lagina: I.Stratonikeia, nos. 505, 507, 510, 512; see Chapter 2. ⁴⁸ However, Hes. Theog. 411–52 describes Hecate as a multivalent goddess who has a share in the earth, the sea, and the sky, and who protects soldiers, horsemen, athletes, herders, and fishermen. The hymn’s authenticity and its sharp contrast with the goddess’ character in the later periods have been much discussed. See commentary of West (1966), ad loc. ⁴⁹ Sourvinou-Inwood (1978); see also Kearns (2013), 281–4, on ‘centripetal’ and ‘centrifugal’ tendencies in Greek religion. ⁵⁰ The role of human communities in ordering, delimiting, and shaping divine privileges is emphasized by Borgeaud (1996), esp. 19–23. ⁵¹ e.g. IG XII.3 Suppl. 1333 (= IG XII.3, 422), 1337, 1347: Artemidorus of Perge addressed various dedications, apparently all related to safety at sea, to different gods. ⁵² The extensive footnote in Versnel (2011), 121–2, n. 355, summarizes the state of scholarship on personal religion up to 2009. For more recent treatments of personal piety, see e.g. Jim (2014b), 130–75.

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      

approach is entirely compatible with emphasis on the organizing and regulating role of the polis,⁵³ and the present study will demonstrate that one must attend both to individuals and to collectives to understand the highly varied nature of ‘saviour’ gods and the different layers of meanings in the word soteria. It is through the complex and dynamic interactions between worshippers and worshipping groups, Panhellenic and local pantheons, the communal and individual, that the world of divine ‘saviours’ was constantly expanded, reconfigured, and re-interpreted. The last two decades have seen a variety of new paradigms in the study of Greek gods, subsequent to the ‘structuralist’ framework associated with Vernant and Detienne. The post-structural analyses of Parker and Versnel have already been mentioned. In a series of recent publications, Pirenne-Delforge and Pironti have, independently or jointly, proposed conceptualizing the gods as a ‘deity network’:⁵⁴ each god constituted a dynamic cluster of different powers, attributes, and activities which might be activated depending on context; at the same time each deity (a network on its own) belonged to a larger interconnected network of powers in the Greek pantheon. According to this model, the core of this ‘deity network’ lay not in a specific mode of action (as each god could have different modes of activity) but in the name of the god, which united different figures of the god in myth and cult, as a power and personality, and at local and Panhellenic levels. While not completely new or different from the earlier ‘structuralist’ approach that it seeks to modify, this ‘network’ model has the virtue of allowing a more dynamic and flexible picture of Greek religion. Where ‘saviour’ gods are concerned, we can imagine, another kind of ‘network’ was in some way created by the use of the trans-divine epithet Soter. When applied to different gods or to different cults of a homonymous god, it is true, the same epithet could express saving functions of different kinds and soteria in different senses of the word, and therefore it did not necessarily imply the same thing. But amid the multifarious functions of these saviour gods, the unifying core is their shared power to save. What mattered most to worshippers was the gods’ efficacy in saving rather than their specific contribution in a particular situation. The ability of the gods to provide immediate relief and satisfy the day-to-day needs of worshippers is a salient feature of Greek polytheism. Whatever terminology we employ to characterize these varying and overlapping paradigms, a central thread in recent scholarship is the shared recognition that it is no longer sufficient to analyse the gods

⁵³ Polis religion: Sourvinou-Inwood (1988) and (1990). Criticisms of the polis religion model: e.g. Kindt (2009), revised in Kindt (2012), 12–35; Eidinow and Kindt (2015); and bibliography in Parker (2011), 58, n. 57. Evaluations of these critiques: Parker (2011), 57–61; Harrison (2015); Jim (2016); Pirenne-Delforge (2016). ⁵⁴ Pironti (2007), 285, already speaks of a ‘réseau aphroditéen’; Pirenne-Delforge and Pironti (2009); Pirenne-Delforge and Pironti (2015) for a brief treatment; Pirenne-Delforge and Pironti (2016) for a detailed exposition.

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separately as individual deities or personalities, but as interrelated powers within a much wider pantheon, which was capable of expansion, contraction, and modification. Scholarship in Greek polytheism has therefore moved forward significantly in the last half century. The phenomenon of ‘saviour’ gods is too broad and varied to be captured by any one theoretical framework; instead a combination of approaches is needed. Without limiting its enquiry to any one divinity or one pantheon, this book will investigate a plurality of ‘saviours’—major gods, heroes, foreign deities, natural forces, and human beings—within the complex world of Greek polytheism, a system made up of not only divine figures but also human communities and their individual members. By doing so, the chapters which follow hope to illuminate the rich diversity of the ‘saving’ experiences of the Greeks, the multiple levels on which the gods operated, and the extraordinarily flexible and open nature of Greek religion.

0.4 Soteria in Classical and Biblical Scholarship Despite being such a pervasive phenomenon, the cults of ‘saviour’ gods and the underlying concept of soteria have attracted remarkably little attention among Classical scholars. Long ago useful groundwork on divinities called Soter and Soteira was laid by the relevant entries in Georg Wissowa’s re-edition of Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft and Wilhelm H. Roscher’s Ausführliches Lexikon der griechischen und römischen Mythologie.⁵⁵ However, much of the material is now out of date and needs to be supplemented by new epigraphic and archaeological discoveries in the last century. Nock’s article on ‘soter and euergetes’ contains many valuable insights, but it is concerned more with the varied use of these titles for human beings from the Classical to the Roman periods than the gods.⁵⁶ Where historians discuss ‘saviour’ gods in ancient Greece, some of them tend to study one specific cult without considering its relation to other ‘saviours’.⁵⁷ Others are interested in the literary motif of ‘saving’ in a particular text or genre of text, in particular poetry,⁵⁸ but without always paying close attention to the language used or investigating the wider significance of soteria in Greek polytheism. More recently, focusing on a different type of text, namely the Orphic gold leaves and philosophical discourses, the volume edited by ⁵⁵ RE III.A,1 s.v. Soter, Soteria, Sozon, Sozousa; Roscher, Lex. IV, s.v. Soteira, Soter, Soteria (personification), Sozon, Sozusa. ⁵⁶ Nock (1951). ⁵⁷ Launey (1987), 914–17, on the military significance of Zeus Soter; Delemen (1999), 39–43, nos. 286–91, on the Anatolian rider god Sozon; Raaflaub (2004), 102–17, on the political aspect of Zeus Soter/Eleutherios. ⁵⁸ e.g. Herzog-Hauser (1931); Burian (1986); Kearns (1990); Faraone (1997); Scullion (2005); Herrero de Jáuregui (2016); Herrero de Jáuregui (2017); Tordoff (2017).

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      

Vishwa Adluri, Philosophy and Salvation in Greek Religion (2013), is primarily concerned with ‘salvation’ in its Christian, eschatological sense and, with the exception of one chapter, its contributors do not consider the actual Greek usage of soteria and its cognates, so that the book is effectively about eschatological notions rather than soteria in philosophy.⁵⁹ Compared to these piecemeal treatments by Classicists, biblical scholars have, for a long time, taken a keen interest in the Greek concept. Already in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, they were interested in identifying ancient precedents for Christian uses of Soter and soteria. Preoccupied as they were with the Christian doctrine of salvation of the soul, some of them looked to mystery cults in the Graeco-Roman world for apparent parallels, and readily read the Christian eschatological notion of soteria back into Greek antiquity.⁶⁰ In claiming that the main function of Greek ‘saviour’ gods was to grant soteria after death, and that they offered the same spiritual promise for individual salvation that was later expressed in Christianity, these scholars overlooked startling differences between soteria in the two religious cultures, and their ideas in turn influenced, and sometimes distorted, early interpretations of ancient Mysteries by Classical scholars.⁶¹ Walter Burkert’s Ancient Mystery Cults (1987) is a reaction to many of these early interpretations. He aptly criticized these notions by arguing for the worldly character of Greek Mysteries, but his argument was based on the general nature of these cults rather than the language they used. While other biblical scholars’ discussions of ancient soteria are more balanced and devoid of such claims, they still tend to focus on later evidence in the Hellenistic and Roman periods, and their engagement with ancient Greek sources is inevitably highly selective.⁶² What results is a fragmentary and often inaccurate picture of the Greek notion of soteria, and readers should be wary of relying on these treatments to understand soteria in Greek religion. Much more valuable, by contrast, are biblical scholars’ discussions of soteria and Soter in Christianity; their insights will be drawn upon in our comparison between Greek and Christian conceptions later in this book.⁶³ In particular, the New Testament scholar Franz Jung’s Soter: Studien zur Rezeption eines hellenistischen Ehrentitels im Neuen ⁵⁹ The exception is the chapter by Menn (2013) in Adluri (2013), 191–216. ⁶⁰ e.g. Anrich (1894); Reitzenstein (1910); Loisy (1914); Angus (1925); Cumont (1929); Macchioro (1930); Lagrange (1937). ⁶¹ Influence on Classical scholarship: e.g. Frazer (1911–15); Halliday (1925), 240–4; Willoughby (1929), 30–1, 227–8; Tarn (1952), 353–4. Discussed in Jim (2017b). ⁶² e.g. the article by the Catholic theologian Allo (1926), on ‘Les dieux sauveurs du paganisme grécoromain’: while rightly recognizing that Greek gods called Soteres did not in fact grant worshippers a blessed afterlife, he went on to focus on Greek mystery cults given his primary concern with ‘salut de l’âme’, and he did not adhere consistently to the actual use of Soter in his discussion. Other, more recent works are e.g. Foerster and Fohrer (1971), s.v. σῴζω, σωτηρία, σωτήρ, σωτήριος, 965–1024 (966–9 on sozein and soteria in the Greek world); Silva (2014), vol. 4, s.v. σῴζω, 420–35 (420–1 on ancient Greek uses). ⁶³ See Chapter 6.

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Testament (2002) treats the use of Soter in the Septuagint and the New Testament thoroughly. Nevertheless, his whole treatment is shaped by his concern with the title of Soter applied to Christ. As a result, his emphasis lies on the application of this title to human beings rather than on gods called Soter or the concept of soteria; nor is he interested in the problems internal to the study of Greek polytheism which will be treated in the present study.

0.5 Sources and Methods To better understand the Greek conceptions of Soter and soteria, and to develop a richer and more varied view of the religious attitudes involved, it is necessary to go beyond the above discussions by stressing epigraphic and archaeological evidence in addition to the literary, and by focusing on the actual use of the language of ‘saving’ in the ancient sources. Although references to ‘saviour’ gods are also found in literary sources, it is epigraphic evidence which can best illuminate the diverse experience of the Greeks. In a much-quoted passage from Plato on piety, one of the definitions Euthyphro suggests for ‘piety’ is saying and doing what is pleasing to the gods in prayer and sacrifice, and this would in return bring security (σῴζει) in domestic and public affairs.⁶⁴ Whether or not one agrees with his view, divine protection is clearly an important goal underlying the whole ritual system and the exchange of charis between man and gods. Whether in times of need or in normal circumstances, the Greeks could sacrifice to the gods praying for soteria for themselves, their family, property, community, and so on. They could also make a vow to the gods, promising an offering should the soteria hoped for be granted.⁶⁵ As a result we have thousands of prayers and dedications all over the Greek world, offered by individuals and communities in hope and/or gratitude for soteria and testifying to the ‘saving’ power of the gods. This great abundance of epigraphic evidence will form the bulk of the material in this book. These prayers and dedicatory inscriptions bring us close to the ‘saving’ experience of the Greeks and their interactions with the gods. Dedicatory inscriptions aside, we have innumerable decrees concerning sacrifices performed for the soteria of the polis and its constituent groups.⁶⁶ Other epigraphic records we shall come across include, inter alia, decrees

⁶⁴ Pl. Euthphr. 14b. Cf. Eur. fr. 946 Kannicht. ⁶⁵ The votive mechanism is made explicit in a late inscription SEG XXXIX 883 (Chios): a father vowed to offer σωτήρια (here meaning ‘offerings in gratitude for saving’, see Chapter 0.6 below on semantics) and an image to the gods according to oracular instruction should they save his son from illness. ⁶⁶ See Chapter 2.

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concerning cult foundation, calendars of sacrifices, other so-called ‘sacred laws’,⁶⁷ temple inventories, graffiti in sanctuaries, honorific decrees, asylia decrees, and royal correspondence, all of which may contain references to cults of ‘saviours’ and concerns for soteria. Scattered all over the Greek Mediterranean from Italy and Sicily in the West to Asia Minor and Syria in the East, and stretching from at least the Archaic period down to the Roman imperial and beyond, these diverse kinds of epigraphic evidence on Soter and soteria have not been systematically collected or studied together. Given the widespread distribution of the material and the long history of the phenomenon, what is needed is a broad geographical and chronological framework, which will allow us to trace the growth and diffusion of the cults of these gods across the Mediterranean and, in the Hellenistic period, the spread of the epithet from the traditional gods to the Hellenistic kings. This approach has the added advantage of allowing us to identify variations between different local pantheons, and to identify changes in the concept of soteria and the use of Soter over time, thereby illuminating any changes in the character of Greek religion. For example, the extent to which the many cults of Zeus Soter in different regions were the same in character, how their functions and nature developed according to local circumstances, and how Zeus Soter came to be associated with certain monarchs, are questions which cannot be adequately answered if we limit the enquiry to too narrow a time frame or geographical area. This book will focus on ancient Greece and other regions that adopted Greek gods and religious terminology from the Archaic period to the end of the Hellenistic, though it will also consider phenomena not manifest until later, such as the cult of Sozon in Asia Minor,⁶⁸ and interactions between the Greek concept and early Christianity.⁶⁹ A comparison with Christian uses of the language is important for clarifying the concept’s complex and entangled relations with Christianity. Not only is it an enormous task to deal with evidence scattered so widely in time and space, it is also difficult to do justice to the diversity of the material available. Precisely because soteria concerned so many different aspects of Greek societies, the source material touches on a bewildering range of disparate subject matters— from warfare, tyranny, natural catastrophes, divine epiphanies, to hero cults, ruler worship, and many more. Any of these could potentially form an independent study on its own, and many of them bring the concept of soteria into close contact with other notions (such as eleutheria, nike, and autonomia). In one of his most well-known cults set up in Athens after the Persian Wars, Zeus was interchangeably called Soter (‘Saviour’) and Eleutherios (‘Liberator’) precisely because the

⁶⁷ The category of ‘sacred laws’ has been questioned: see Parker (2004b); Lupu (2009), 3–112, 502–4; Carbon and Pirenne-Delforge (2012); Harris (2015). See also the useful website A Collection of Greek Ritual Norms (CGRN, http://cgrn.ulg.ac.be/). ⁶⁸ See Appendix II. ⁶⁹ See Chapter 6.

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situation concerned the soteria (‘deliverance’) of the Greeks as much as their eleutheria (‘liberation’); in other situations, however, soteria could have nothing to do with eleutheria and political freedom. Soteria can sometimes overlap and converge with other concepts, and the extent of the overlap may expand or contract depending on context. The diversity of subject matters involving divine saving, the slipperiness of the boundary between soteria and other ideas, and the need to take into account the breadth of the subject while maintaining a sustained focus make the subject both interestingly diverse and particularly challenging for the historian. I have tried in the following chapters to present the most important and illuminating aspects of the phenomenon, and the material discussed is by no means exhaustive.

0.6 The Semantics of Soter, Soteria, Sozein, and Related Terms Before we can look more closely at the source material, an overview of the key words to recur in this study is necessary. The abstract noun σωτηρία is first attested in the early fifth century , and derives from the agent noun σωτήρ (‘saviour’, ‘protector’, ‘deliverer’).⁷⁰ The masculine Σωτήρ and the feminine Σώτειρα are the forms most common in the sources, but local variations in the Greek world might contribute to variants in spellings.⁷¹ The participle forms Σώζων and Σώζουσα are sometimes also used as cult epithets, in the singular or plural, present or aorist participle.⁷² Much rarer are the adjectival forms σωτήριος (in the singular) and σωτήριοι (in the plural), attested only in isolated instances.⁷³ Not to be confused with the abstract concept of σωτηρία is the neuter plural σωτήρια (from the adjective σωτήριος, and differently accented), used as a noun meaning ‘thank-offering for deliverance’. The Greeks might perform a sacrifice termed σωτήρια in gratitude for and commemoration of σωτηρία attained.⁷⁴ But offerings of this kind can also take other forms, ranging from a durable dedication to a large-scale festival held in honour of the gods: the most well-known celebration is the Delphic Σωτήρια commemorating the Greek expulsion of the Gauls in

⁷⁰ Chantraine (1933), 45, 78; Schwyzer (1934–71), vol. 1, 468–9; Chantraine (1968–80), vol. 4, 1084–5, s.v. σῶς; LSJ s.v. σωτηρία; Kearns (1990), 324; Beekes (2009), vol. 2, 1440–1; Montanari (2015), vol. 2, 2075. ⁷¹ e.g. Σαώτης (SEG LVI 551, Paus. 2.31.5, 2.37.2, 9.26.7–8), Σαώτας (IG IV².1 286), and Σαωτήρ (IG XII.2 484.21–2) from σαόω, and the Thessalian form Σουτεῖρ (IG IX.2 237, 1229). ⁷² e.g. Zeus Kasios Sozon and Aphrodite Sozousa in SEG XLIX 1408; Θεοὶ σώζοντες in IG XII.4 542 and I.Assos 28a; Θεοὶ σώισαντες in I.Priene IK 6; Eisityche Sozousa in RICIS 504/0216; Moirai Sozousai in SEG XXIV 902. ⁷³ Theoi soterioi: Soph. El. 281; IG IV 1553 (Corinth). Note also Zeus Soterios in Soph. Nauplius fr. 425 Radt. ⁷⁴ LSJ s.v. σωτήριος, -ον II. 2. e.g. Xen. An. 3.2.9; Arr. Indica 36.6; IG II/III² 661.22–3 = IG II/III³ 1, 915.22–3 (Athens); SEG XV 517 lines 7, 13 (Paros); IG XII.9 1186.33 (Histiaia in Euboea).

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279/8 .⁷⁵ Very often, however, the Greeks might simply express the idea of ‘saving’ with various forms of the verb σῴζειν, sometimes with the addition of prefixes such as ἀπο-, δια-, and ἐκ-. The language of soter, soteria, and sozein is ubiquitous in our epigraphic and literary records, especially in prayer and dedicatory formulae. It would therefore be worth singling out for discussion some of these formulae, though it must be emphasized from the outset that hopes of soteria can be variously expressed and are by no means limited to these. Particularly frequent in prayers accompanying sacrifices and dedications is the phrase ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας τοῦ δεῖνος (‘for the protection/deliverance/safety of someone’).⁷⁶ The preposition ὑπέρ specifies the benefit (here σωτηρία, in the genitive) received and/or being sought from the gods, whereas the other qualifying genitive (τοῦ δεῖνος) identifies the recipient of this blessing; the most common recipients are the dedicator himself, his family members, and his property.⁷⁷ In a village in Syria, for instance, a father prayed ‘for protection for himself, his spouse, his children, and his brothers’ (ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας ἑαυτοῦ καὶ τῆς συνβίου καὶ τέκνων καὶ ἀδελφῶν); instead of setting up dedications for each family member, he put each of them under divine protection in a single dedication. Elsewhere, another individual prayed ‘for protection for his household’ (ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας τοῦ οἴκου).⁷⁸ Farmers and pastoralists might pray for the well-being of their crops, sheep, and oxen.⁷⁹ Apart from personal welfare, individuals could pray for safety for the community to which they belonged.⁸⁰ All these were prayers ‘on behalf of ’ the soteria of the persons, groups, or objects concerned: they are explicitly named as the intended recipients of the divine favour, even though they had not made the offering themselves. Nevertheless, not all prayers and dedications concerned with soteria would use the abstract noun. Worshippers might project their desire for soteria onto a god’s name by using the epithet Soter, and they might also use the phrase ὑπὲρ ἑαυτοῦ (or similar),⁸¹ without specifying that soteria was the benefit hoped for and/or attained (the safety or general well-being of the beneficiary is implied). In such a case the epithet may often serve as the only clue that the dedicator had soteria in ⁷⁵ Dedication: e.g. Anth. Pal. 6.216. Delphic festival: Nachtergael (1977), with documents in appendixes I–II. Offerings called σωτηρία and the related term σῶστρα are discussed in Jim (2012), 318–20. ⁷⁶ The equivalent in Latin inscriptions is pro salute: see Appendix IV. ⁷⁷ The various meanings of hyper are discussed in greater detail in Jim (2014a). ⁷⁸ IGLS VI 2902; IGBulg III 1543. ⁷⁹ e.g. Phrygian Votive Steles, no. 336 (ὑπὲρ προβάτων σωτηρίας); MAMA V, no. 212 (ὑπὲρ βοῶν̣ σωτηρ̣ίας κὲ [τ]ῶν ἰδί[ων π]άντων); MAMA VII, no. 303 (ὑπὲρ βοῶν σωτηρίας); I.Iznik, no. 1506 ([ὑπὲρ] σωτηρίας καρ̣πῶ̣[ν]). See also Schuler (2012). ⁸⁰ e.g. IG XII.4 541, 543–4. ⁸¹ These two elements could appear in conjunction with each other or independently on their own: thus one could pray to Zeus Soter ὑπὲρ ἑαυτοῦ, but one could also pray to Zeus (no epithet) ὑπὲρ ἑαυτοῦ. For our purpose the former kind of expressions is more relevant than the latter, as prayers ὑπὲρ τινός (or similar) but without references to Soter/soteria/sozein are so ubiquitous and general that our analysis would become unfocused.

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mind, though its precise nature can be difficult to pin down. The economy of expression in the vast majority of dedicatory inscriptions makes it all the more important for historians to pay attention to their original context: information with regard to their archaeological context, the nature of the sanctuary, placement in the site, the kind of object dedicated, and any accompanying iconography, where available, all provide potential hints. Instead of, and sometimes in addition to, calling a god Soter or praying ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας, worshippers might indicate the circumstances motivating their offering with the verb sozein and its compounds. This may be used in the aorist passive participle, in a clause σωθεὶς ἐκ τινος (or similar), to signify the threat from which they were delivered. Some examples are σωθεὶς ἐγ μεγάλων κινδύνων (‘saved from great dangers’), σωθεὶς ἐκ πελάγους (‘saved from the sea’), σωθεὶς ἀπὸ πειρατῶν (‘saved from pirates’), and ἀπὸ σεισμοῦ διασωθείς (‘preserved from an earthquake’).⁸² Nevertheless, we must not be distracted by the small proportion of inscriptions bearing such formulae into thinking that soteria must relate to particular dangers or crises. As we shall see in subsequent chapters, soteria for the Greeks was about maintaining their existing safety and well-being as much as, and perhaps even more importantly than, deliverance from specific troubles. Pervasive though the language of saving may be, the Greeks did not use the above formulae or the epithet Soter systematically or consistently. Apart from Soter, Soteira, and the like, the Greeks could express similar concerns for soteria using a range of other epithets or none at all. Communities and individuals could, as we shall see in subsequent chapters, adapt their ways of addressing the gods and religious language according to their needs. In the third century , for instance, an Athenian commander called Soteles set up various dedications while serving on Icaros in the Persian Gulf. All of them seem to concern maritime safety, but each was variously expressed: one was addressed to Zeus Soter, Poseidon (without epithet), and Artemis Soteira; another to Poseidon Asphaleios (‘Securer’); and a fragmentary one is supplemented partially with [σωθέ]ντες. How Soteles decided which epithets and expressions to use in similar situations is a question which escapes us.⁸³ To take plague as another example—the situation where above all the soteria of the entire community was at stake, it was in fact more common for the Greeks to pray to Apollo under the title of Alexikakos (‘Averter of Evil’), Epikourios (‘Helper’), Apotropaios (‘Averter’), or without any epithet, than to Apollo Soter.⁸⁴ Not only are Soter and Soteira not invariably used, the dividing

⁸² I.Délos 2119 (σωθεὶς̣ ἐκ πολλῶν καὶ μεγάλων κινδύνων), 2305 (σωθεὶς ἀπὸ πειρατῶν), 2433 (σωθείσα ἐγ μεγάλων κινδύνων); OGIS 74 (σωθεὶς ἐκ πελ(άγ)ους); Dussaud (1896), 299 (ἀπὸ σεισμοῦ διασωθείς); I.Kanais, nos. 42, 43, 44 (σωθεὶς/σωθέντες ἀπὸ Τρωγοδυτῶν). See Chapter 3 for other instances. ⁸³ I.Estremo Oriente, nos. 416–18. Cf. the various dedications by Artemidorus of Perge in n. 51 above. ⁸⁴ Paus. 1.3.4, 8.41.8–9; LSS 115 A 4–7.

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      

line between these different epithets is also far from fixed. Other cult titles closely related in meaning, but each with a varying emphasis are, inter alia, Akesios (‘Healing’), Asphaleios (‘Securer’), Epekoos (‘Listener’), Iater (‘Healer’), Lysios (‘Deliverer’, ‘Releaser’, ‘Loosener’), Lyterios (‘Releaser’), and Phylake (‘Guardian’).⁸⁵ To complicate the matter further, in verse we may find poetic epithets bearing similar meanings to Soter,⁸⁶ such as Akestor (‘Healer’, ‘Saviour’), Erusiptolis (‘Saving the City’), and Poliouchos (‘Protecting the City’).⁸⁷ There are many other contexts where, confronted with similar problems, worshippers and worshipping communities made differing choices when in search of soteria. This raises a difficult and recurrent problem which we shall encounter throughout this study: given the multiple options available in Greek polytheism, how did communities and individuals decide which god to appeal to as ‘saviour’ and which epithet to use? Although it is often held that it was essential to appeal to the gods using the correct divine name and epithet,⁸⁸ in reality there was a great degree of flexibility and much room for variation, and the factors governing individuals’ choices are not always clear to us. The rich literary and epigraphic material, and the varying ways in which the Greeks expressed their hopes for soteria, make it difficult to circumscribe the subject. Yet a linguistic criterion is necessary if we are to avoid imposing our assumptions on the ancient Greeks, and to guard against neglecting aspects of what the Greeks meant by soter and soteria which do not correspond to our own expectations. Our analysis of ‘saviour’ gods should first and foremost be based on the actual uses of Soter and Soteira in the ancient sources. However, since similar concerns can be variously expressed, as we have just seen, I will also consider situations where the language of saving was used and gods with related epithets or no epithets were involved. Recent studies in divine naming have shown that the onomastic configurations of the gods are much more varied than the simple combination of a theonym and an epithet, and have called for a more inclusive and flexible criterion.⁸⁹ Instead of confining the following analysis too narrowly to ⁸⁵ e.g. Paus. 6.24.6 (Apollo Akesios); I.Estremo Oriente, no. 418 (Poseidon Asphaleios); I.Délos 2305 (theoi epekooi); IGBulg III 1475 (Phoibos Iater); Paus. 2.2.6–7 (Dionysus Lysios); Paus. 2.32.6 (Pan Lyterios); Phylake: Decourt and Tziaphalias (2015), A.16 (Artemis Phylake). See also Chapter 2 for epithets applied to city protectors. ⁸⁶ The distinction between cult epithet and poetic epithets is not simply between ‘actual use in cultic context’ and ‘poetic invention for adorning verses’, as hymns performed in cult often contained poetic epithets. Nor is the distinction that between inscriptions on stone and pure literary exercises in literature, as we also have verse inscriptions (e.g. Apollo Saoptolis in a late epigram SEG L 1179). The boundary between cultic and poetic epithets is difficult to delineate: see discussions in Parker (2017a), 10–11. ⁸⁷ Akestor: Eur. And. 900. Erusiptolis: Hom. Il. 6.305; Hymn. Hom. 11.1, 28.3. Poliouchos: Aesch. Sept. 312, 822; Ar. Eq. 581, Nub. 602. Soter and Soteira are not exclusive to prose, but can also appear in verse. ⁸⁸ Pulleyn (1997), esp. 97; Versnel (2011), 53–4. ⁸⁹ See Bonnet et al. (2018), which proposes speaking of an ‘onomastic formula’ or ‘onomastic sequence’ made up of different ‘onomastic attributes’.

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the epithets Soter and Soteira, therefore, I will employ a wider semantic field including words abutting and overlapping with these as the study develops, in those areas where they intersected substantially with other terminology: as in Chapter 1 with the language of divine rescue in Homer, and in Chapter 2 with city-protecting gods. Nevertheless, it would not be feasible to include indiscriminately situations where the motif (but not the language) of divine saving occurs, as this would risk blurring the focus and expanding the boundary of the subject infinitely to resemble something such as James Frazer’s Golden Bough. The complex problem of delineation is perhaps insoluble, and no single criterion would be entirely satisfactory. The best approach for the historian is to focus on chosen key words, while at the same time being aware of possible overlaps with other epithets, and of the flexibility of Greek religious language. By situating Soter in a broader semantic field, the present study hopes to achieve a richer and more thorough understanding of the values attached to ‘saviours’ by the Greeks, its relations with other terminology, and its significance in Greek polytheism. Soteria is such a broad and multi-faceted topic with such a wide array of epigraphic, textual, and archaeological evidence that scholars can approach it from different angles using different lenses, and each can obtain from it different views and satisfaction. Depending on one’s interest, one can also study soteria in Greek literature or the iconography of divine deliverance in Greek art. But that would be a very different book, and not necessarily one which sheds light directly on the lived religious experience, concerns, and beliefs of the people. While religion in literature has a complex relation with religion in real life, any detailed exegesis of individual texts or genre of texts without penetrating historical actors’ religious beliefs and mentality will doubtless be dry and divorced from their hopes and concerns. The approach adopted here is one which, I hope, will best reflect the Greeks’ own understandings and perceptions of the divine, capture the complexity of their religious mentality, and bring us closer to their religious feelings and experience.

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1 Soteria A Polyvalent Concept

In Book 2 of the Iliad, after Agamemnon’s call to battle, his troops rush to action and sacrifice to the immortal gods, each to a different one, praying for escape from death and the tumult of war.¹ This is a rare passage in the aristocratic and heroic world of Homer which, unusually, captures the religious practice of the Greek troops and the importance of protective divinities to ordinary individuals. We would like to know to which gods they prayed, under what epithets (if any), and how individual soldiers formulated their prayers for preservation. The need for divine deliverance was already commonplace in Homeric societies and certainly long predated them. Though full of saving interventions by human and divine agents, the Homeric epics do not have a specific noun with which to denote ‘deliverance’ or ‘rescue’, nor is any of the gods called Soter or Soteira. How, then, was the idea of divine saving expressed in Homer and other early Greek authors? How far back can we trace the concept of soteria and the associated epithet Soter? Focusing on literary evidence from the Archaic and early Classical periods, this chapter will trace the early history of soteria, the historical circumstances which shaped its development, and how its meaning developed over time.

1.1 The Archaic Period 1.1.1 Divine Rescue in Homer Divine ‘deliverance’, ‘preservation’, or ‘protection’ is a prominent theme threaded through the Homeric epics. While a major concern in the Iliad is the deliverance of the Trojans and the Achaeans (and their individual warriors) from the dangers of war and from destruction by their enemies, in the Odyssey the emphasis shifts to the deliverance of Odysseus and his comrades from perils at sea and to their safe return home. Verbs signifying divine rescue and protection permeate Homer, and not even the greatest Homeric heroes are immune from the need for divine deliverance. In ¹ Hom. Il. 2.400–1. The bT scholiast notes that the contingents came from different lands, and that each sacrificed to their ancestral gods.

Saviour Gods and Soteria in Ancient Greece. Theodora Suk Fong Jim, Oxford University Press. © Theodora Suk Fong Jim 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192894113.003.0002

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Book 15 of the Iliad, after Hector is wounded by Aias, Apollo comes at Zeus’ bidding to encourage him as follows: ‘Take courage now; such a helper (ἀοσσητῆρ) has the son of Cronus sent down from Ida, to stand by your side and defend you (παρεστάμεναι καὶ ἀμύνειν), Phoebus Apollo of the golden sword (χρυσάορος): I who have protected (ῥύομ᾽) you before, yourself and your steep citadel alike.’²

In the space of four lines Homer uses a variety of terms to express the act of divine rescue, defence, protection, and the like. Instead of Σωτήρ, Apollo describes himself as a ‘helper’ (ἀοσσητῆρ, from ἀοσσέω ‘to help’) who will defend (ἀμύνω) the hero just as he has always protected (ῥύομαι) him; his epithet χρυσάορος evokes the image of the god carrying a golden sword, standing by (παρίστημι) the warrior on the battlefield. Apart from ῥύομαι and ἀμύνω,³ related verbs used in Homer are, among others, ἄλαλκε, αλέξω, ἀπαλέξω, ἐπαλέξω, ἀμϕιβαίνω, ἐπαμύνω, ἐπαρήγω, ἐκλύω, λύω, σαόω, ϕυλάσσω, χραισμέω, and, where healing is concerned, ἀκέομαι and ἰάομαι.⁴ These verbs can apply to both human and divine agency, and what is ‘saved’, ‘defended’, or ‘preserved’ can be human beings (individuals, groups, communities) or objects. After Hector has unexpectedly recovered and rejoined battle, Thoas marvels that some god has again ‘delivered and saved’ (ἐρρύσατο καὶ ἐσάωσεν) Hector.⁵ As the reaction of Thoas shows, Homer’s characters often ascribe the unexpected deliverance of themselves or their enemies to divine action;⁶ this is representative of the wider tendency of the Greeks to attribute rescue from dangerous situations to divine agency. Amid this long list of verbs of overlapping meanings, the most frequently used in Homer is σῴζω in various forms.⁷ Most of the time it is used in relation to preservation of life from various forms of danger in war or at sea, and in the plot of the Homeric epics is often contrasted with death or destruction.⁸ In Book 22 of the Iliad, when Hector is pursued by Achilles around the walls of Troy, Zeus calls on the gods, who are looking on intently from Olympus, to consider whether they

² Hom. Il. 15.254–7. ³ ῥύομαι: Hom. Il. 5.344, 15.29, 15.257, 15.290, 20.194–5, Od. 12.107; ἀμύνω: Hom. Il. 1.456, 4.11, 5.603, 15.255, 15.375, 21.215. ⁴ Some of these words are used of both human beings and the gods; here I only list those instances where divine agency is concerned. ἄλαλκε: Hom. Il. 21.138, 23.185, Od. 13.319; ἀλέξω: Hom. Il. 1.590, 20.315; ἀπαλέξω: Hom. Il. 24.371, Od. 17.364; ἐπαλέξω: Hom. Il. 8.365, 20.315; ἀμϕιβαίνω: Hom. Il. 1.37, 1.451; ἐπαμύνω: Hom. Il. 8.414, 14.357; ἐπαρήγω: Hom. Il. 23.783, Od. 13.391; ἐκλύω: Hom. Od. 10.286; λύω: Hom. Od. 13.321; ϕυλάσσω: Hom. Od. 15.35, 20.52; χραισμέω: Hom. Il. 1.28, 1.566, 5.53. ⁵ Hom. Il. 15.290. ⁶ e.g. Hom. Il. 15.290, 20.450, Od. 4.363–4. ⁷ e.g. σῴζω: Hom. Il. 13.734, 15.290, 18.395, 18.405, Od. 5.130, 5.452; ἐκσῴζω: Hom. Il. 4.12, Od. 4.501. See further instances in the concordances of Prendergast (1962) and Dunbar (1962). On the various forms of σῴζω in Homer, see Chantraine (1968–80), vol. 4, 1085, s.v. σῶς; LSJ s.v. σῴζω. ⁸ e.g. Hom. Il. 15.502–3 (ἤ ἀπολέσθαι ἠὲ σαωθῆναι), 17.227–8 (ἤ ἀπολέσθω ἠὲ σαωθήτω).

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      

should save Hector from death (μιν ἐκ θανάτοιο σαώσομεν) or vanquish (δαμάσσαμεν) him at the hand of Achilles.⁹ Contrasted with δαμάζω (‘bring low’, ‘kill’), σαόω (or σῴζω in post-Homeric Greek) here denotes the deliverance of the hero from death and the preservation of his life. After Hector has met his doom, however, σαόω takes on a different meaning. As his body is disfigured by Achilles, Apollo reprimands the gods for not bringing themselves to save (σαῶσαι) him despite the offerings he had made in life. The same verb σαόω here means not to ‘revive from death’ or ‘save from troubles after death’, but to ‘preserve’ the corpse intact for his family and for receiving proper burial rites.¹⁰ As these two passages make clear, σαόω (or σῴζω) in Homer already had a range of meanings, as it would go on to in post-Homeric uses of this verb and its cognates. There is no discernible difference in its meanings in Homeric and post-Homeric usage; nor is there any marked difference in the ‘saving’ power of the gods: while their intervention is made more manifest and visible by the poet, any divine deliverance is only temporary and limited to life on earth, and not even Zeus can avert the allotted death from the ones he loved.¹¹ Despite the abundance of verbs meaning to ‘save’ or ‘protect’, the agent nouns Σωτήρ and Σώτειρα and the adjective σωτήριος are conspicuously absent. We find the adjectives σῶς (‘safe’) and ἀρτεμής (‘safe and sound’), though not always in relation to divine protection.¹² When referring to the gods’ ‘saving’ functions, Homer uses titles other than Σωτήρ and Σώτειρα, or no epithet at all. Faced with the imminent destruction of their city at the hand of Diomedes, the Trojans seek the protection of Athena on the advice of the seer Helenos. When the priestess of Athena places the robe chosen by Hecabe on Athena’s knees, she invokes the goddess with the epithet ἐρυσίπτολις (‘protecting the city’). Athena could be regarded as the protectress of Troy since she had a temple on the acropolis, but, paradoxically, she is the author of the city’s disaster in the Iliad.¹³ Elsewhere in Homer, the goddess bears the epithet Ἀλαλκομενηΐς. The nature of this epithet has been disputed: it may be geographical, connected with the Boeotian town of Alalkomenai on the southern shore of Lake Kopais, where a cult of the local hero Alalkomeneus and a temple of Athena are attested at a later date;¹⁴ alternatively,

⁹ Hom. Il. 22.174–6, with commentary in de Jong (2012), 104. ¹⁰ Hom. Il. 24.35. ¹¹ Cf. Hom. Od. 3.236–8, with discussions in Herrero de Jáuregui (2017) and Versnel (2017), 256–7. ¹² e.g. Hom. Il. 1.32 (σαώτερος), 22.332 (σῶς), Od. 4.98 (σόοι), 13.43 (ἀρτεμής). ¹³ Hom. Il. 6.305. Most modern commentators prefer ἐρυσίπτολις, but some scholiasts (A and T) and editions (Loeb and OCT) have ῥυσίπτολις. The poetic epithet ἐρυσίπτολις is also used of Athena in Hymn. Hom. 11.1, 28.3. Athena’s relationship to Troy is well explained in Graziosi and Haubold (2010), 27–8. Pirenne-Delforge (2017), 147–9, discusses the paradox that the Trojan women should propitiate Athena, that is, the goddess who is the chief champion of the Achaean camp. ¹⁴ On the cult of Athena in the Boeotian town of Alalkomenai, see Paus. 9.33.5; Strabo 9.2.36, 413; Schachter (1981–94), vol. 1, 111–14. The epithet Ἀλαλκομένη is used of Athena in a Chian inscription: Forrest (1986), 133–4 = McCabe, Chios Inscriptions, no. 46.

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it may be a functional epithet meaning ‘protectress’ and derived from the verb ἀλαλκεῖν (‘to ward off ’, ‘to keep off ’), as Aristarchus thought.¹⁵ The ambiguity is interesting and its significance might have been two-fold: Athena was protectress of the place Alalkomenai, which was impregnable because of her protection. In any case, these are the only two divine epithets in Homer comparable to Soter/ Soteira. Other nouns and adjectives designating the gods’ protective functions abound, but they serve as descriptions rather than epithets attached to the names of gods. The most frequent of these is ἐπιτάρροθος (‘helper’, ‘defender’);¹⁶ other synonyms are ἐπίρροθος, ἀμύντωρ, ἀοσσητήρ, ἐπαμύντωρ, and the adjective ἐπίκουρος (‘assisting’, ‘aiding’).¹⁷ As the opening passage shows, the practice of praying and sacrificing in hope and/or gratitude for divine ‘protection’ and ‘deliverance’ is already attested in the Homeric epics,¹⁸ and yet Homer does not have a specific abstract noun with which to denote this blessing. To cite just one more example, in Book 3 of the Odyssey, Nestor recounts to Telemachus and Athena in disguise how he and his company, with the help of a divine sign, crossed the sea from Lesbos to Euboea and landed in the harbour of Geraestus. There they laid on Poseidon’s altar thigh-bones of many bulls in gratitude for having crossed the great sea.¹⁹ Although his crew attributed their safety to Poseidon, neither the word soteria nor the epithet Soter is used. The absence of σωτηρία in this and other Homeric passages should not surprise us, as the word cannot form part of a hexameter.²⁰ However, the absence also of σωτήρ and σώτειρα—both of which can scan—makes it more probable that the abstract noun σωτηρία did not yet exist in Homer’s time, that is, the idea of ‘deliverance / safety/preservation’ had not yet come to be expressed by this word. Instead,

¹⁵ Hom. Il. 4.8, 5.908. Perhaps influenced by Hera’s topographic epithet Argeia (‘of Argos’), with which Athena Ἀλαλκομενηΐς appears in the same line, some scholars see Ἀλαλκομενηΐς as a topographic rather than a functional epithet: e.g. Chantraine (1968–80), vol. 1, s.v. ἀλέξω; Willcock (1978), 222; Kirk (1985–93), vol. 1, 332. Those who prefer to see it as a functional epithet include e.g. Leaf (1900–2), vol. 1, 155–6 and Cuche (2015), 14. The fact that in the preceding line, Hom. Il. 4.7, Zeus describes Hera and Athena as ἀρηγόνες (‘helpers’) of Menelaus may lend support to the latter interpretation. ¹⁶ ἐπιτάρροθος: Hom. Il. 5.808 (Athena), 5.828 (Athena), 11.366 (some god), 12.180 (theoi), 17.339 (Zeus), Od. 24.182 (some god). LSJ note that ἐπιτάρροθος in Homer is always used of gods, not humans, unlike other words in the following note. ¹⁷ ἐπίρροθος: Hom. Il. 4.390 (Athena), 23.770 (Athena); ἀμύντωρ: Hom. Il. 15.610 (Zeus), Od. 16.261 (Athena and Zeus); ἀοσσητήρ: Hom. Il. 15.254 (Apollo); ἐπαμύντωρ: Hom. Od. 16.263 (Athena and Zeus); ἐπίκουρος: Hom. Il. 21.431 (Aphrodite). There are other related words referring to human beings or objects as ‘defenders’, ‘helpers’, and ‘protectors’, e.g. ἐπαρωγός, ἀλκτήρ, and βοηθόος, but I have not included them here since they are not used in relation to the gods in Homer. ¹⁸ e.g. Hom. Il. 2.400–1, 6.305–11, 15.367–76. ¹⁹ Hom. Od. 3.173–9. A sanctuary of Poseidon at Geraestus is attested in later times in e.g. Aristid. Or. 46.18 Keil, but it is unclear whether the shrine came into being before or after Homer; see Schumacher (1993), 62–87. ²⁰ The noun σωτηρία can scan in iambics but not in hexameters or elegiacs. Nevertheless, neither do we find σωτήρ, σώτειρα, and σωτήριος in the surviving work of the principal iambic poets of the Archaic period—Archilochus, Semonides, and Hipponax—preserved admittedly only in fragments.

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      

sometimes Homer uses the word or image of ϕόως (‘light’) as a metaphor for ‘salvation’, a metaphor also used in later Greek literature.²¹

1.1.2 Hesiod and the Homeric Hymns As in Homer, Hesiod uses verbs such as σαόω and ῥύομαι, but not soteria, Soter, or Soteira.²² The feminine form soteira is not attested until Pindar,²³ whereas the Homeric Hymns provide the earliest known literary applications of the masculine noun soter to the gods. Poseidon is described as ‘a tamer of horses and a saviour of ships’ (ἵππων τε δμητῆρ᾽ ἔμεναι σωτῆρά τε νηῶν) in the Homeric Hymn to Poseidon, which ends with the hope that the god will be kindly and assist those at sea.²⁴ In a similar vein, the Dioscuri are described as ‘saviours of men on earth and of swift-faring ships’ (σωτῆρας τέκε παῖδας ἐπιχθονίων ἀνθρώπων ὠκυπόρων τε νεῶν), who would come to the rescue of sailors when invoked with prayers and the sacrifice of white lambs in the midst of a storm.²⁵ Their manifestation in storms, in the form of an electric discharge around the ship’s mast, is described also by the roughly contemporary Alcaeus (late seventh to early sixth century ): ‘ . . . Castor and Polydeuces, who journey on racing horses over the wide earth and all the sea, and easily deliver (ῤύεσθε) men from freezing death. Leaping to the peaks of their trim vessels, brilliant from afar . . . and bringing light (ϕ[άος ϕέ]ροντες) to the black vessel in the night of woe . . . .’²⁶ Nevertheless, both Homeric Hymns use soter as a description rather than a formal cult title of the gods. As we shall see shortly, it is not until the Classical period that Soter is securely attested as a cult epithet of Poseidon.

²¹ Hom. Il. 11.797, 15.741, 16.39. See also commentary in Kirk (1985–93), vol. 4, 355, on Hom. Il. 16.297–300. Cf. Hom. Il. 17.645: Aias prays to Zeus to protect his troops from darkness. This metaphor is also found later in e.g. Soph. El. 1354; Eur. HF 531–2, 1222, Med. 482. ²² See the lexicons of Hofinger (1975–8) and Minton (1976). However, according to Hes. Theog. 243, one of the Nereids is called Σαώ, a divine name not otherwise attested and probably invented by the poet to reflect the ‘saving’ role of the Nereids at sea: see West (1966), 32, 236. ²³ The earliest attestations of Soteira as a divine epithet are found in Pindar: Pind. Ol. 8.21 (Themis Soteira), Ol. 9.15 (Eunomia Soteira), Ol. 12.2 (Tyche Soteira); see the lexicon of Slater (1969), 483. However, the identity and prominence of ‘saviour’ gods in Pindar and other poetry differ from those in prose and inscriptions. Themis, Eunomia, and Tyche appear as Soteirai in verse only, and are very likely the poet’s literary creations, not reflecting any actual cultic worship of these deities under this epithet. On Tyche Soteira, see more fully Chapter 4, n. 40. ²⁴ Hymn. Hom. 22.5, 22.7, with commentary in Allen, Halliday, and Sike (1936), 412–15. Most of the Homeric Hymns probably belong to the Archaic period, some possibly later. ²⁵ Hymn. Hom. 33.6–19, with commentary in Allen, Halliday, and Sike (1936), 436–42, who consider the hymn to be well known by the sixth century  on the basis of a sixth-century inscription which apparently borrowed from it. Cf. Page, PMG, Fragmenta Adespota 1027c, where the Dioscuri, sons of Zeus and Leda, are described as the ‘best of saviours’ (κάλλιστοι σωτῆρες). Its ascription to the seventh-century poet Terpander by Bergk (1878–82), vol. 3, is generally regarded as insecure. ²⁶ Alcaeus fr. 34, with tr. and commentary in Page (1955), 265–8.

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1.1.3 Zeus Soter in Archaic Drinking Rituals Despite these references in the Homeric Hymns, it is not at all clear if Poseidon and the Dioscuri were the earliest divine soteres, and whether soter was first used in reference to maritime saving before spreading to other spheres of life as is sometimes suggested.²⁷ There are other pieces of evidence, both literary and non-literary, which suggest that the earliest god to bear Soter as a cult title might have been Zeus. Zeus Soter must have been widely familiar in Archaic Greece as the recipient of the third libation of mixed wine in symposia and other drinking contexts, a custom alluded to in, and probably predating, Pindar and Aeschylus.²⁸ This offering to Zeus Soter was probably intended to pray for the drinkers’ general well-being rather than to avert any supposed danger inherent in drinking.²⁹ The ritual seems to be alluded to on an Athenian red-figure kylix of late Archaic date. It shows a reclining wreathed man holding a phiale and a spear, and before his open mouth are the words ΖΕΥ ΣΩΤΗΡ incised in retrograde, as if he is invoking Zeus Soter while pouring a libation.³⁰ Zeus must have been invoked as Soter verbally in drinking contexts in different parts of the Greek world in the Archaic period, even though he might not have had an actual physical cult dedicated to him under that title.³¹

1.2 Classical Literature 1.2.1 Herodotus and Aeschylus: The Persian Wars It is not until the early fifth century, when the Greeks were confronted with the unprecedented threat posed by the Persians, that both the cult of divine soteres and the abstract noun soteria are securely attested. Despite Poseidon’s potential to protect at sea in the Homeric epics and his description as ‘saviour of ships’ in the Homeric Hymn, Poseidon did not appear under the epithet Soter until almost the final stages of the Persian Wars. Herodotus tells us that, when the Persian fleet was

²⁷ Cf. Donaldson (1841), 54–5, ap. Fennell (1893), 87, on Pind. Ol. 8.21. ²⁸ The earliest literary references are Pind. Isthm. 6.7–9 (c.484 or 480 ); Aesch. Supp. 26 (mid-470s or 470 according to Scullion (2002)), Ag. 244–7, 1386–7, Cho. 1073, Eum. 759–60 (458 ), Epigoni fr. 55.4 Radt. See also Soph. Nauplius fr. 425 Radt (the form Zeus Soterios is used); Ath. 15.692f–693f; and other references collected in Cook (1914–40), vol. II.2, 1123–5, n. 7. Aeschylus makes frequent allusions to, and perversions of, the ritual language of offering the third libation to Zeus Soter, as discussed in Burian (1986) and Scullion (2005). ²⁹ Contra Schol. vet. Pind. Isthm. 6, 10a; Wecowski (2014), 39–40, 74. ³⁰ Athens Acr. 434, ARV² 330, no. 5, fragment A (Athens, late Archaic period); discussed in Lissarrague (1995), 128–9; Gaifman (2018), 131–3. This and other possible pieces of Archaic evidence for Zeus Soter are discussed further in Chapter 4. ³¹ On other pieces of evidence referring to Zeus Soter in the Archaic period, see Chapter 4.1.

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      

anchored near Cape Sepias off the coast of Thessaly in 480 , there was a sudden change of weather and it was struck by a strong Hellespontine wind. On the fourth day when the storm ceased and when news of Persian losses reached the Greeks, they prayed and offered libations to Poseidon Soter before sailing back to Artemisium. According to Herodotus, this is how the god came to be honoured under the title (ἐπωνυμία) of Poseidon Soter, a title still in use in his day.³² This is one of the few cases where we can precisely date and observe the creation of the epithet (if not a physical cult).³³ Poseidon ‘saved’ the Greeks not by delivering their fleet from the storm, but by devastating the enemy’s much larger forces. Poseidon’s epithet, then, was prompted by the unexpected deliverance of the Greeks from the Persians in a naval battle. Nevertheless, this passage is curious to historians in several respects. According to the earlier chapters of Book 7, the people of Delphi had previously received an oracle to pray to the Winds, and this Delphic oracle was communicated to all the Greeks; at the same time, another oracle instructed the Athenians to appeal to Boreas, that is, their mythical son-in-law.³⁴ Poseidon had not featured at all in the run-up to the event, but was nevertheless credited with the deliverance of the Greeks and honoured with the title Soter, whereas the Winds and Boreas received only local worship. Poseidon was chosen as Saviour probably because the Greeks needed a Panhellenic figure to symbolize a naval victory; Poseidon was the most formidable god at sea and the most suitable symbol of a collective Greek triumph. However, despite Herodotus’ statement that the Greeks still worshipped Poseidon under the title of Soter in his time, we do not meet Poseidon Soter again in the rest of the Classical period.³⁵ The curious rarity of Poseidon Soter in our sources, and the uneven distribution of the epithet in the Greek pantheon, is a problem to which we shall return in another chapter.³⁶ Herodotus tells us of the origin of the worship of another Soter, this time not an Olympian god, but a river. Tradition had it that Perdiccas and his brothers were banished from Argos and came to Macedonia. Pursued by the king, they successfully crossed a river, whereupon its water surged so violently that the horsemen in

³² Hdt. 7.188–92, at 192: ‘they have used the title of Poseidon Soter ever since, from then to this day’ (Ποσειδέωνος Σωτῆρος ἐπωνυμίην ἀπὸ τούτου ἔτι καὶ ἐς τόδε νομίζοντες). The event is discussed in Burn (1984), 389–91; Mikalson (2003), 60–3. ³³ Unlike for Anemoi and Boreas (see below), Herodotus makes no mention of a shrine or altar built for Poseidon Soter, nor is there archaeological evidence for such a cult. Macan (1895–1908), vol. I.1, 285, thought that ‘an actual cult of Poseidon Σωτήρ does not appear to be here asserted’. ³⁴ Hdt. 7.178 (Anemoi), 189 (Boreas). ³⁵ Macan (1895–1908), vol. I.1, 285, followed by How and Wells (1928), vol. 2, 216, thought that the final clause Ποσειδέωνος σωτῆρος ἐπωνυμίην ἀπὸ τούτου ἔτι καὶ ἐς τόδε νομίζοντες is probably a later addition to the original (by Herodotus himself?). But even so Poseidon is clearly referred to as Soter a few lines earlier when he received prayers and libations. ³⁶ See Chapter 4.

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pursuit of them were prevented from crossing. On account of this the river received sacrifice from the descendants of these men as ‘saviour’.³⁷ This is a Macedonian royal myth explaining Perdiccas’ ascent to kingship and may not be taken at face value. Yet it still serves to illustrate the cult of a river as Soter and the kind of explanation that could be offered by the ancients. Both Poseidon and the Macedonian river received worship as Soteres by foiling the plans of the enemies and delivering the individuals or groups concerned from dangers. Their mode of ‘saving’—by destruction—shows the double aspect of these divinities: they could harm just as they could help, and it is the positive aspect on which the epithet Soter focused attention. The abstract noun soteria is first attested in Greek literature in the context of the Persian Wars, in Herodotus’ Histories and Aeschylus’ Persae. Herodotus uses the word as many as nine times, in most cases in relation to a community’s deliverance from a dangerous situation, and occasionally to the safety of prominent individuals; in one instance the preservation of an inanimate object is meant.³⁸ Its earliest occurrence in Herodotus is in Book 5, in the context of the Ionian Revolt. In his attempt to irritate Darius, the Milesian tyrant Aristagoras sent a messenger to offer deliverance (σωτηρία) to the Paeonians, who were living in Phrygia as prisoners of war taken by the Persians. He urged them to take the opportunity to get back safely (σώζεσθαι) to their homeland, promising to take care of the matter when they had made their flight as far as the sea. Here soteria signifies their safe escape from the Persians and a safe return home.³⁹ Not long afterwards Darius started quelling rebellions in Ionia. Defeated by the Persians, the Carians fled to Labraunda and were trapped in the sanctuary of Zeus Stratios. There they deliberated about how they could save themselves (ἐβουλεύοντο περὶ σωτηρίης), whether they should surrender or leave Asia altogether.⁴⁰ Although both passages use soteria in the context of the Ionian Revolt in the 490s , it is unclear whether the word was already in use by the time of the events recorded, or whether Herodotus was applying a word coined in his time to describe earlier events. Nevertheless, the recurrence of soteria and the prominence of the theme of ‘salvation’ in Aeschylus’ Persae (472 , see below) suggest that both the idea and the abstract noun must have been brought to the fore in the early decades of the fifth century. The Herodotean passages cited so far use soteria to express deliverance from the Persians; but the word was also used in internal conflicts of the Greeks. Threatened by the attack of the Spartan king Cleomenes, the Argives consulted ³⁷ Hdt. 8.138.2 (τῷ θύουσι οἱ τούτων τῶν ἀνδρῶν τῶν ἀπ᾽ Ἄργεος ἀπόγονοι σωτῆρι), with commentary in Bowie (2007). On rivers receiving cultic worship, see Bremmer (2019). ³⁸ Collective soteria: Hdt. 5.98.2 (the Paeonians), 5.119.2 (the Carians), 6.19.1 (the Argives), 7.172.3 (the Thessalians), 9.104 (the Persians); prominent individuals: Hdt. 6.104.2 (Miltiades), 8.118.2 (Xerxes at sea), 8.118.3 (Xerxes at sea); object: Hdt. 4.98.3 (a pontoon bridge). ³⁹ Hdt. 5.98.2. ⁴⁰ Hdt. 5.119.2.

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      

the Delphic oracle ‘concerning the safety of their own city’ (περὶ σωτηρίης τῆς πόλιος τῆς σϕετέρης).⁴¹ Whether the danger was posed by other Greeks or nonGreeks, it was in the perilous situations of war, in the face of an enemy, that the concern for deliverance from an external threat came to be expressed by the word soteria. All nine references to soteria in Herodotus appear in the military sphere, and they all relate to situations of crisis. Apart from soteria, the verb σῴζω and its compounds (with the addition of the prefixes ἀπο-, δια-, and ἐκ-) appear many times in Herodotus in connection with saving a person’s life or a community.⁴² Also frequent is the passive form σωθῆναι, accompanied usually by a preposition and a destination, for expressing ‘to get back safe’ to a place, often one’s homeland.⁴³ This may appear to be a non-religious use of the verb, but given Herodotus’ tendency to see gods at work in human affairs, we may wonder whether the passive form may imply divine agency making the return possible. Aeschylus’ Persae (472 ), probably the earliest of the extant Greek plays, uses soteria three times in contexts similar to those in Herodotus, but all in relation to the Persians rather than the Greeks. When recounting to the Queen the hardships encountered by the Persian army on its homeward march through northern Greece, the messenger describes the perils of the troops in crossing the frozen river Strymon, saying that those few remaining who survived the crossing (ὅσοι δὲ λοιποὶ κἄτυχον σωτηρίας) made their way home.⁴⁴ Soteria here refers to the physical survival by the Persians of the dangers of crossing the river. But in another passage, the same word refers to the Persian soldiers’ safe return home (νοστίμος σωτηρία).⁴⁵ It is in the former sense, that of being alive, that the ghost of Darius asks the Queen: is there any (hope of ) deliverance for Xerxes (ἔστι τις σωτηρία;)?⁴⁶ In the conflicts between the Greeks and the Persians, soteria in the sense of physical survival was the most basic need for communities and individuals, both Greek and Persian. Other plays of Aeschylus similarly use soteria to signify the deliverance or safe return of individuals or groups from perils in war.⁴⁷

⁴¹ Hdt. 6.19.1–2, 6.77.1–2. The oracle is discussed in Piérart (2003); Scott (2005), appendix 6; Hornblower and Pelling (2017), ad loc. (with bibliography). ⁴² See the lexicon of Powell (1977). ⁴³ e.g. Hdt. 4.97.6 (σωθέντος ἐμεῦ ὀπίσω ἐς οἶκον), 7.230 (σωθῆναι ἐς Σπάρτην), 8.92.1 (σωθῆναι ἐς Αἴγιναν), 9.104 (σῴζωνται ἐς τὰς κορυϕὰς τῆς Μυκάλης). Cf. Hom. Od. 10.473–4 (σαωθῆναι καὶ ἱκέσθαι οἶκον ἐϋκτίμενον καὶ σὴν ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν). ⁴⁴ Aesch. Pers. 508. The noun σωτηρία picks up the verb σεσωμένος in line 503. ⁴⁵ Aesch. Pers. 797. See similar expressions in Aesch. Pers. 737 (πρὸς ἤπειρον σεσῶσθαι), Ag. 343 (πρὸς οἴκους νοστίμος σωτηρία), 618 (εἰ νόστιμός τε καὶ σεσωμένος), 1238 (νοστίμος σωτηρία). ⁴⁶ Aesch. Pers. 735. ⁴⁷ Aesch. Ag. 343 (safe return of military men), 1238 (safe return of Agamemnon), Sept. 209 (safety at sea as a metaphor of deliverance from a military crisis). Rather different is the Furies’ power, in Aesch. Eum. 909, to grant τῶν βροτείων σπερμάτων σωτηρία as a blessing, literally ‘preservation of the seeds of humans’. This seems to relate to the other Aeschylean uses of soteria and its cognates in the Oresteia to signify the preservation and perpetuation of the bloodline of the house of Atreus from annihilation by reproduction: e.g. Aesch. Cho. 203, 236, 264, 505, Eum. 661.

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Aeschylus’ plays provide the earliest attestations of the adjective σωτήριος (‘saving’, ‘delivering’, ‘bringing safety’), a word apparently not attested in the Archaic period. The opening scene of the Supplices (470 ?) shows Danaus and his daughters in a sanctuary in Argos, invoking different gods for protection from the pursuit of the Egyptian princes, including among the divinities the ‘saving rays of the sun’ (αὐγαὶ Ἡλίου σωτηρίοι).⁴⁸ In the Seven Against Thebes (467 ), when the Theban maiden invoke the gods to save the city from the destruction of war, Eteocles rebukes them and asks if their crying and howling are ‘what is best and bringing deliverance to the city’ (ἦ ταῦτ᾽ ἄριστα καὶ πόλει σωτήρια).⁴⁹ Other uses of the adjective abound in Aeschylus, but mostly in non-religious contexts without any relation to the gods.⁵⁰ Apart from using Soter of the gods,⁵¹ Aeschylus provides us with an interesting instance of the word applied to living human beings, albeit with a different force and significance. In return for the Argives’ protection from the Egyptian princes in the Supplices, Danaus says to his daughters: ‘we must pray, sacrifice, and pour libations to the Argives as to the Olympian gods, since they are undoubtedly our saviours’ (Ἀργείοισιν εὔχεσθαι χρεών, | θύειν τε λείβειν θ᾽, ὡς θεοῖς Ὀλυμπίοις, | σπονδάς, ἐπεὶ σωτῆρες οὐ διχορρόπως).⁵² By the time the play was produced (470 ?), it would not have been new to the Greeks to acknowledge an Olympian god as Soter or to describe a human being as such in a non-religious sense.⁵³ But it is unparalleled to thank a group of living human beings for an exceptional service performed by paying them cultic honours as to the Olympians. What is being emphasized is the magnitude of the gratitude that the Argives deserve. This is an expression of thanks, here much exaggerated, found sometimes in speech. Similar expressions go back to Homer, where the Trojans are said to have prayed to Hector as a god.⁵⁴ We shall come across comparable examples, with or without cultic implications, in fifth-century literature.

⁴⁸ Aesch. Supp. 213. Scullion (2002) argues for a date of the Supplices in the mid-470s or 470. But Sommerstein (2008), 279, in the Loeb edition’s introduction to this play, allows for a later date, between 470 and 459 . ⁴⁹ Aesch. Sept. 183. Various verbs are used by the Chorus for ‘preserve’, ‘protect’, and the like: ἐπιρρύομαι (line 165), ἀμϕιβαίνω (line 175), ἀρήγω (line 179). ⁵⁰ Non-religious uses: e.g. Aesch. Ag. 646 (σωτήρια πράγματα), Eum. 701 (ἔρυμά τε χώρας καὶ πόλεως σωτήριον), Cho. 236 (ἐλπὶς σπέρματος σωτηρίου), 505 (κληδόνες σωτήριοι), Supp. 407 (ϕροντὶς σωτήριος), 417 (ϕροντὶς σωτήριος), 765 (πείσματα σωτήρια). ⁵¹ e.g. Aesch. Ag. 512 (Apollo), 664 (Tyche), Cho. 2 (Hermes), Sept. 520 (Zeus). It is not uncommon in tragedy to combine the masculine agent noun Soter with the feminine substantive Tyche: see Soph. OT 80–1 (Tyche Soter); Fraenkel (1962), vol. 2, 325. ⁵² Aesch. Supp. 980–2. ⁵³ e.g. Pind. Ol. 13.54 (Medea as soteira of Argo and its crew), Hdt. 7.139 (the Athenians as soteres of Greece). ⁵⁴ Hom. Il. 22.394 (θεῷ ὣς εὐχετόωντο); cf. Il. 7.298. Currie (2005), 178–9, 186–7, argues that Hector is, by such expressions, in some sense assimilated to a god.

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      

1.2.2 Thucydides: The Convergence of Soteria and Eleutheria Soteria and its cognates appear many times in Thucydides in military contexts, in most cases in relation to the state, and sometimes in relation to groups and individuals. At the beginning of the Peloponnesian War, Pericles enumerated the wealth of the Athenians, adding to that the gold on the statue of Athena on the acropolis, which he said could be used for their soteria but must be replaced afterwards. Soteria here refers to the self-defence of the polis in face of the emergencies of war; it denotes the preservation of Athens’ existing well-being and its deliverance from emergency should the city be in military and financial need.⁵⁵ After the outbreak of the plague and the second invasion of the Peloponnesians in 430 , the Athenians were greatly distressed by their private misfortunes. This led Pericles to make a second speech to exhort the Athenians not to neglect ‘the safety/welfare of the state’. The phrase τοῦ κοινοῦ ἡ σωτηρία is used twice in his speech in contrast to the private interest of individuals.⁵⁶ Within the polis, those whose soteria was most directly at stake in the war were the soldiers. The soteria of military men is a recurrent theme in the account of the Sicilian expedition. Nicias tried to dissuade the Athenians from launching the campaign by exaggerating the forces required. He concluded his speech by saying that the precautions he proposed were the ‘surest’ (βεβαιότατα) for the whole city and ‘bringing safety to those on campaign’ (τοῖς στρατευσομένοις σωτήρια).⁵⁷ The adjective σωτήριος is picked up by σωθήσεσθαι in the following chapter: while the older men thought that they would conquer Sicily or suffer no disaster, the Athenian youths were optimistic that they would get back safe (εὐέλπιδες ὄντες σωθήσεσθαι).⁵⁸ The hope of safe return home, here expressed by the verb σωθήσεσθαι, is elsewhere expressed by the noun σωτηρία. One of the exhortations used to encourage the Athenian fleet in the final engagements in 413  was their safe return to the fatherland (περὶ τῆς ἐς τὴν πατρίδα σωτηρίας).⁵⁹ Nevertheless, sometimes it can be difficult to pin down what σωτηρία means precisely, especially when it is used absolutely without any qualifying phrases. When the Athenian troops on the shore were watching the engagement at sea in 413 , they called on the gods not to deprive them of their soteria.⁶⁰ Here soteria could encompass various things: their immediate safety, safe return home, or more generally, deliverance from danger. ⁵⁵ Thuc. 2.13.5. ⁵⁶ Thuc. 2.60.4, 2.61.4. Cf. Thuc. 6.78.4: in Hermocrates’ exhortation of the Camarinaeans, public and private soteria—preservation of the state and the survival of individuals—are not mutually exclusive but closely intertwined. ⁵⁷ Thuc. 6.23.3. ⁵⁸ Thuc. 6.24.3. ⁵⁹ Thuc. 7.70. Cf. another absolute use in 7.61.1, where soteria presumably means the individuals’ life and safe return. ⁶⁰ Thuc. 7.71.3. Similarly vague is Thuc. 7.12.3, where τῶν πληρωμάτων ἡ σωτηρία means something like the ‘good condition of the crew’.

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Thucydides’ uses of soteria and its cognates seen so far, in the sphere of war, overlap largely with those in Herodotus’ Histories and Aeschylus’ Persae. However, the concept acquires new connotations in some other passages. This is best illustrated by the Melian dialogue in Book 5. At the beginning of their negotiation in 416/5 , the Athenian representatives said that the Melians should consider their soteria, meaning the safety and preservation of the Melians and their property—their homes, their land, crops, and all that would be destroyed in war.⁶¹ The Melians seemed to agree with the Athenians by replying that ‘this meeting is indeed about our soteria’ (ἡ μέντοι ξύνοδος καὶ περὶ σωτηρίας). Although the Melians used the same word, they were in fact thinking not of their physical survival or preservation, but of their political freedom or ἐλευθερία.⁶² Gomme and Hornblower note that the word καί is emphatic: it means ‘not just our material security but “our very existence as a Greek πόλις” (Gomme)’.⁶³ In the end the Melians decided not to give up their autonomy (ἐλευθερία), but to trust in tyche which had preserved (σῳζούσα) them thus far.⁶⁴ Consequently the city was besieged and taken over by Athens, the majority of the population was put to death or sold into slavery, and so the Melians lost both forms of soteria. The Melian dialogue demonstrates well that different forms of soteria existed: a city could be preserved physically from destruction, and continue to exist, but without political autonomy or freedom. Different conceptions of soteria might exist among different groups or even within the same group in any given situation. The close connection between soteria and eleutheria in some political contexts is further reflected in the treatment of the Spartan general Brasidas. In 422 , two years after capturing the Athenian colony, Brasidas died at Amphipolis fighting the Athenian army under Cleon. The people of Amphipolis established a posthumous hero cult in his honour. They gave him a public funeral in the city, transferred to him the title of ‘founder’ (οἰκιστής) from the Athenian colonist Hagnon, and considered him their soter (νομίσαντες τὸν μὲν Βρασίδαν σωτῆρά τε σϕῶν γεγενῆσθαι). In future he was to be honoured with games and annual sacrifices as to a hero.⁶⁵ The most zealous symbol of Sparta’s policy of ‘liberation’ of the Greeks, Brasidas was thus honoured for liberating Amphipolis from Athens;

⁶¹ Thuc. 5.87. It was in this same sense that the Athenian representatives used soteria again in Thuc. 5.91.2 (ἐπὶ σωτηρίᾳ τῆς ὑμετέρας πόλεως) and 111.2 (περὶ σωτηρίας βουλεύσειν). The Athenian understanding of the word is made explicit by the proposed treatments of the Melians in the subsequent chapters 5.91.2, 93, 111.3–4. ⁶² Thuc. 5.88. ⁶³ Gomme et al. (1945–81), vol. 4, 160; Hornblower (1991–2008), vol. 3, 232. ⁶⁴ Thuc. 5.112. ⁶⁵ Thuc. 5.11.1. On the cult of Brasidas at Amphipolis, see Malkin (1987), 228–32; Hornblower (1991–2008), vol. 2, 449–56 (with bibliography); Hoffmann (2000); Currie (2005), 164–5; Jones (2010), 24–6. Kearns (1990), 328, n. 9, notes that ‘nomisantes probably carries the implication of a customary cult title’.

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      

he was a soter in the sense of a ‘liberator’.⁶⁶ He was the first mortal in historical times to receive cultic worship as soter, even if posthumously, for an exceptional service performed. It was a distinctive feature in Greek religion to worship exceptional human beings with cultic honours after death, but such heroic honours are still very different in nature from the divine honours for living monarchs in the Hellenistic period. As we shall see in Chapter 5, it is not until after Alexander the Great that living kings are clearly attested as receiving the title Soter and fully fledged cults. Soteria, then, developed a close connection to eleutheria during the Peloponnesian War. So closely related were they in some political contexts that the two concepts and their associated epithets became almost synonymous.⁶⁷ This is the case of the cult of Zeus in the Athenian agora: its great stoa and statue of the god are referred to interchangeably in the sources as belonging to Zeus, Zeus Soter, and Zeus Eleutherios. There archaeologists have discovered traces of an altar of Archaic date, which was later replaced by the stoa built (c.430s–420s on architectural grounds), according to lexicographers, in commemoration of Athens’ deliverance from the Persians.⁶⁸ Some scholars suppose that the earlier altar belonged to Zeus Soter, whereas the stoa was for Zeus Eleutherios, that is, Zeus Soter became known as Zeus Eleutherios after the liberation of the Greeks from the barbarians. In discussing how the Athenian cult of Zeus Soter came to acquire the epithet Eleutherios after the Persian Wars, Raaflaub argues that Zeus Eleutherios was a specification of the function of Zeus Soter. He sees eleutheria as a particular aspect originally subsumed within soteria, an aspect which became separated from among the various other meanings of soteria and became an independent concept due to the experience of the Persian Wars, expressed by a new noun eleutheria.⁶⁹ According to our earlier analysis, however, although the Persian Wars directly threatened the political autonomy of the Greek poleis, in none of the uses of soteria by Herodotus or in Aeschylus’ Persae does it convey the sense of eleutheria. The concept of soteria in these two works primarily concerns communal and/or individual survival and preservation, not political independence, which is

⁶⁶ Cf. Brasidas’ reception at Scione the year before in Thuc. 4.121.1: the people crowned him with a gold crown as the liberator of Greece (χρυσῷ στεϕάνῳ ἀνέδησαν ὡς ἐλευθεροῦντα τὴν Ἑλλάδα) and greeted him like an athlete, but he is not referred to as soter at Scione. ⁶⁷ Although soteria might coincide and overlap with eleutheria in some contexts, in other cases it is clearly distinguished: e.g. Thuc. 6.69.3, the Syracusans are said to fight, each for his own immediate safety on the one hand and for their future liberty on the other (τῆς ἰδίας ἕκαστος τὸ μὲν αὐτίκα σωτηρίας, τὸ δὲ μέλλον ἐλευθερίας). Juxtaposed with eleutheria, soteria clearly refers to soldiers’ physical survival and not any political ideals. ⁶⁸ e.g. Didymus ap. Etym. Magn. s.v. Ἐλεύθερος; Didymus ap. Harp. s.v. Ἐλευθέριος Ζεύς; Hesych. s.v. Ἐλευθέριος Ζεύς. The sources are conveniently collected in Agora III, 25–30, with discussion in Agora XIV, 96–102 (96 on the earlier altar). See also Rosivach (1978); Rosivach (1987); Camp (1992), 105–7. ⁶⁹ Raaflaub (2004), esp. 108–10, 113.

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expressed by a separate word eleutheria.⁷⁰ In other words, in their earliest attestations the concepts of soteria and eleutheria were expressed separately from each other and denoted rather different concerns. It is not until the Peloponnesian War, in the writing of Thucydides, that the two concepts sometimes merged into one, as in the Melians’ conception of soteria. The relationship between the two titles proposed by Raaflaub and others— namely that Eleutherios was added to an existing cult of Zeus Soter after the Persian Wars⁷¹—is therefore not supported by the early development of their associated concepts. Nor is it borne out by literary or epigraphic evidence concerning this cult. Neither epithet is securely attested for Zeus in the agora in the fifth century,⁷² whereas fourth-century evidence speaks interchangeably of Zeus Soter and Zeus Eleutherios. The earliest secure evidence for Zeus Soter in this cult is a speech by Isocrates in c.370 , who relates how the Athenians set up honorific statues of Conon and Evagoras beside that of Zeus Soter for their defeat of the Spartan fleet off the coast of Cnidus in 394 ; but Pausanias refers to these same statues as near that of Zeus Eleutherios.⁷³ The state of the evidence does not allow us to establish the relative chronology of Zeus’ two titles with certainty. Analogies with other gods who became ‘Saviours’ in connection with this struggle— Poseidon Soter in 480  and Artemis Soteira in 479 ⁷⁴—make it equally probable that Zeus received the epithet Soter in Athens during the wars or as a result of the deliverance of the Greeks from the Persians.⁷⁵ Instead of predating the Persian Wars, Zeus’ epithet Soter in the Athenian agora might have been roughly contemporary with his other epithet Eleutherios.

⁷⁰ The noun eleutheria and the adjective eleutheros are attested in Aesch. Pers. and Hdt., see Dindorf (1876), 114; Italie (1955), 95; Powell (1977), 114. The noun eleutheria is not used in Homer and the Homeric Hymns. Homer uses eleutheros only in the set phrases ἐλευθερον ἦμαρ (‘the day or time of freedom’, Hom. Il. 6.455, 16.831, 20.193) and κρατῆρα . . . ἐλεύθερον (‘a mixing bowl of freedom’, Hom. Il. 6.528); see commentary in Kirk (1985–93), vol. 2, 221, 228. Zeus Eleutherios is attested in Pind. Ol. 12.1; Hdt. 3.142. ⁷¹ Raaflaub (2004), followed by Parker (1996), 157, 239. But long before Raaflaub, Judeich (1931), 340, already thought that the epithet Soter predated Eleutherios: ‘Es kann aber kein Zweifel sein, daß der Name Soter der ältere und der eigentliche Kultname war’. ⁷² The mid-fifth-century marble fragment, Agora III, p. 29, no. 39 [hόρος] Διὸς ἐ[λευθερίου], is too uncertain. ⁷³ Fourth-century evidence: IG II/III² 43 = RO 22, lines 65–6 (378/7, Charter of the Second Athenian League) (Zeus Eleutherios); Isoc. 9.57 (Zeus Soter); Xen. Oec. 7.1 (Zeus Eleutherios); cf. Paus. 1.3.2. ⁷⁴ Poseidon Soter: Hdt. 7.192. Artemis Soteira: Paus. 1.40.2–3, 44.4 (see Chapter 2). ⁷⁵ The altar of Zeus Eleutherios in Plataea (Paus. 9.2.5–6, Plut. Arist. 20.4), set up on the instruction of the Delphic oracle and after the saving intervention Zeus Soter in a dream (Plut. Arist. 11.5–6, see Chapter 2), seemingly provides a parallel case of Zeus Soter becoming Zeus Eleutherios. However, Classical sources speak only of Zeus Eleutherios in Plataea (Thuc. 2.71.2), and Plutarch’s reference to Zeus Soter might have been influenced by the interchangeable uses of soteria and eleutheria (and their cognates) in some context. Even if Plutarch’s late narrative may be relied upon, we need not suppose that the local cult in Athens must follow a similar development as the Panhellenic one in Plataea (see Chapter 2).

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      

1.2.3 Comedy and Tragedy Collective deliverance from the emergencies of the Peloponnesian War also forms an important theme in Aristophanes’ political plays. In Peace (421 ), the Chorus leader calls on everyone to go ‘straight to the rescue’ (εὐθὺ τῆς σωτηρίας). Soteria here means not just the rescue of the goddess Peace, but more importantly, the escape of Athens and other Greek cities from the destruction caused by the personified War, and their return to the old way of life.⁷⁶ The central theme of Lysistrata (411 ) is made explicit in the opening lines by the female protagonist: ‘the salvation (σωτηρία) of the whole of Greece is in the hands of her women’.⁷⁷ Both plays are concerned with the deliverance of Greece from the Peloponnesian War and restoration to normality, but in several other plays, soteria pertains to Athens specifically. In Frogs (405 ), Athens’ soteria in the perilous circumstances of the war is the major purpose for Dionysus’ journeys to the underworld: ‘I come down here for a poet . . . so that the city might be preserved (σωθεῖσα) to hold her choral festivals’. This is echoed by the question Dionysus puts to the poets, namely, what soteria there can be for the city (περὶ τῆς πόλεως, ἥντιν᾽ ἔχετον σωτηρίαν).⁷⁸ Such notions of soteria—in the sense of the deliverance of the state from a major threat—overlap largely with what was seen already in Herodotus and Thucydides, but in Aristophanes the word often carries a tint of nostalgia: not simply deliverance from the present troubles, but restoration of the state to its condition in the old days. In all the above instances the concern of soteria arises directly from the ongoing wars, but in Aristophanes’ Knights (424 ), the demos’ soteria is affected by a threat from within the polis. In the opening scene when Demosthenes suggests to Nicias that, instead of lamenting, they should look for some soteria (ζητεῖν τινα σωτηρίαν),⁷⁹ soteria appears to refer to Demosthenes’ and Nicias’ personal safety or escape from Paphlagon. But as the play progresses, it becomes clear that it concerns freeing the demos from the influence of the demagogues, in particular Cleon, and the collective well-being of the city. Demosthenes and Nicias look upon the Sausage-Seller as a ‘saviour to the city and to themselves’ (σωτὴρ τῇ πόλει καὶ νῷν), one who will overthrow Paphlagon and save them from the present kind of political leadership, thereby restoring the demos to its previous glory.⁸⁰ It

⁷⁶ Ar. Pax 301; cf. lines 292–4. ⁷⁷ Ar. Lys. 30–1: ὅλης τῆς Ἑλλάδος ἐν ταῖς γυναιξίν ἐστιν ἡ σωτηρία. This theme is picked up by cognate verbs which follow: Ar. Lys. 41, 46, 497–9, 525, 1144. ⁷⁸ Ar. Ran. 1419, 1435–6; cf. the similar theme in Ar. Ran. 1501, Ecc. 396–7. Contra Camassa (2020), who thinks that soteria in Ar. Ran. has an other-worldly dimension. ⁷⁹ Ar. Eq. 13. Rogers (1910) and Sommerstein (1981) translate soteria as ‘safety’, but its sense is surely much broader than that. ⁸⁰ Soter: Ar. Eq. 149. Similarly in line 458, the Chorus cheers the Sausage-Seller on, describing him as ‘saviour to the city and to her citizens’ (καὶ τῇ πόλει σωτὴρ τε τοῖς πολίταις). Willi (2003), 19 n. 50, is right to hesitate to count this use of soter as an epithet.

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may seem surprising that he is called soter of the city, when both the magnitude of the service involved and the level of honour received (none in this case) are significantly different from, say, Brasidas in Amphipolis as seen earlier. When used of the Sausage-Seller and other Aristophanic saviour-figures, soter is a mere description or momentary outburst of gratitude in recognition of a service one has performed or is expected to perform. Unlike its use for Brasidas, here it carries neither any implication of cult nor any suggestion that the individual concerned is greater than human.⁸¹ This was a commonplace feature of everyday speech, like ‘you have saved my life’ in English, often used in small crises: the word soter could potentially be addressed to any human being, regardless of social status and background,⁸² in a range of situations where a useful service was concerned.⁸³ Another Aristophanic character, Trygaeus, is hailed by the chorus as ‘saviour of all mankind’ for rescuing the goddess Peace and saving the city of Athens and the Greeks at large.⁸⁴ Nevertheless, the benefit need not have been saving a city from an internal or external threat; it could be much less serious and important in scale. In another play, Peisetaerus is seen as the soter of the Birds, a ‘saviour’ who will deliver them from their present plight, which he has graphically described, and restore them to their former status.⁸⁵ Even more trivial is Strepsiades’ use of soter for his son: by learning the Unjust argument, which he believes can defend him in any lawsuit brought by his moneylenders, his son will be ‘his defence, the saviour to the house, the bane of his enemies, ending the sorrows of his father’s great troubles’.⁸⁶ Even among these Aristophanic saviour-figures, therefore, the magnitude and nature of the service involved can vary greatly. Just like the multivalent concept of soteria, under the umbrella of human beings called soter can also be a wide range of graver and less serious meanings, and to address someone as such need not carry any religious significance. Ordinary individuals thus described in Aristophanes belong to one end of a long spectrum of human beings who were called ‘saviours’, more or less formally, with or without cult. We will meet other powerful individuals situated at other points of the continuum in subsequent chapters. ⁸¹ Contra Ehrenberg (1951), 271: ‘the mortal called by this name did not yet enter the ranks of the gods, but the name indicated the first step in this direction’; Currie (2020). ⁸² Contra Dunbar (1995), 371 on Ar. Av. 554–5, who considers the application of soter to the Sausage-Seller ‘comically incongruous with the low-class addressee’. It is not social background, but the nature of the service involved, which determines whether soter is an appropriate address. ⁸³ Other informal and non-religious uses of soter of living human beings are e.g. Pind. Ol. 13.54 (464 ): Medea is described as the ‘saviouress to the ship Argo and to its crew’ (ναῒ σώτειραν Ἀργοῖ καὶ προπόλοις); Hdt. 7.139: the Athenians are ‘saviours of Greece’ (σωτῆρες τῆς Ἑλλάδος) for defending the Greeks against Xerxes; Aesch. Cho. 264: Electra and Orestes are ‘saviours of their father’s hearth’ (σωτῆρες ἑστίας πατρός). ⁸⁴ Ar. Pax 915 (σωτὴρ ἅπασιν ἀνθρώποις), together with 866–9 (ἔσωσα τοὺς Ἕλληνας) and 1036 (ἔσωσε τὴν ἱερὰν πόλιν). ⁸⁵ Ar. Av. 545. ⁸⁶ Ar. Nub. 1161–2 (πρόβολος ἐμός, σωτὴρ δόμοις, ἐχθροῖς βλάβη, λυσανίας πατρῴων μεγάλων κακῶν), with 77 (σωθήσομαι) and 1177 (σώσεις μ᾽).

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      

As Strepsiades’ hope for escape from his prosecutors shows, over the course of the fifth century , soteria and its cognates continued to be extended to other areas of life than the military and political to signify deliverance from all kinds of trouble, be it a life-threatening situation or much milder circumstance. Yet it is possible that such personal uses of soteria already appeared earlier but are not recorded in the literary sources, given the tendency of Herodotus and Thucydides to focus on the public sphere rather than ordinary men and women. Aristophanes provides several instances from the day-to-day experiences of his characters. The Wasps shows Philocleon seeking escape (soteria) from his confinement by trying to chew through the net. As he is about to descend from the window, he prays to Lycus, his ‘neighbour hero’ (γείτων ἥρως), to ‘save’ (σῶσον) him from the risk of falling.⁸⁷ In the Thesmophoriazusae, as the female participants become suspicious, Euripides’ kinsman wonders what device will there be to save him (τίς ἔσται μηχανὴ σωτηρίας), using soteria in the sense of ‘getting away safe’. Later when he sees a glimpse of hope for escape from the women, he appeals to Zeus Soter: ‘gods, Zeus Saviour, there is hope’ (θεοί, Ζεῦ σῶτερ, εἰσὶν ἐλπίδες).⁸⁸ Although there is a touch of comically grandiloquent language here, this appeal to the god still shows the range of personal needs possibly overseen by Zeus Soter, and the multivalent nature of the underlying concept of soteria. By the end of the fifth century, gods identified as ‘saviour’ already played an important role in the daily life of the Greeks, and were not far removed from worshippers’ personal needs. The wide range of meanings of soteria and its cognates is also seen in Sophocles’ Philoctetes (409 ). For many years after being abandoned by his fellow Greeks, Philoctetes has been looking for a safe return home.⁸⁹ But soteria for him is not just about a safe homecoming, it also encompasses relief from his physical afflictions, material security or relief from hunger, safe-keeping of his bow, and escape from Odysseus’ pursuit.⁹⁰ Neoptolemus, on the other hand, wants to save him from his present plight by taking him away from Lemnos.⁹¹ If he fails to persuade Philoctetes to go, so he thinks, the latter will live as he does now, without soteria.⁹² It is difficult to pin down what precisely Neoptolemus means here by

⁸⁷ Ar. Vesp. 369, 393. ⁸⁸ Ar. Thesm. 1009. We have to understand εἰσὶν ἐλπίδες (sc. σωτηρίας); cf. line 946 (κοὐκ ἔστ᾽ ἔτ᾽ ἐλπὶς οὐδεμία σωτηρίας). See similarly Ar. Ecc. 1045, where Zeus Soter is named when the young man escapes from the first old woman. ⁸⁹ Soph. Phil. 311 (σῶσαί μ᾽ ἐς οἴκους), 488 (πρὸς οἶκον τὸν σὸν ἔκσωσόν μ᾽ ἄγων), 496 (μ᾽ ἐκσῶσαι δόμους), 528–9 (μόνον θεοὶ σῴζοιεν ἔκ τε τῆσδε γῆς ἡμᾶς). ⁹⁰ Cure from affliction: Soph. Phil. 1379 (κἀποσώσοντας νόσου); necessities of life: Soph. Phil. 297 (ϕῶς, ὃ καὶ σῴζει μ᾽ ἀεί); safe-keeping of the bow: Soph. Phil. 766 (σῷζ᾽ αὐτὰ καὶ ϕύλασσε), 803 (ἀντὶ τῶνδε τῶν ὅπλων, ἃ νῦν σὺ σῴζεις). The theme of ‘salvation’ in this play is well discussed in Avery (1965), 296–7. Avery thinks that the fire always preserves Philoctetes by providing him with the necessities of life. ⁹¹ Soph. Phil. 919 (Σῶσαι κακοῦ μὲν πρῶτα τοῦδ᾽). ⁹² Soph. Phil. 1396 (σὲ δὲ ζῆν, ὥσπερ ἤδη ζῇς, ἄνευ σωτηρίας).

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soteria: it entails something like ‘deliverance from all sorts of afflictions’ and evidently more than simply being alive. The meaning of σῴζω is pushed even further, and perverted, in Sophocles’ Ajax (undated). When Ajax says that he is going away to cleanse his stains and that others may soon learn that he has been saved, the Chorus and Tecmessa think that he means, by the word σεσωμένος, saved from his malady and purged of his stains; but Ajax really means deliverance from his disgrace and evils of life by death.⁹³ This particular use of σώζομαι is unusual and paradoxical, as it normally means to be saved, preserved, and kept alive from specific threats that may cause death or destruction. The ambiguous and differing understandings of σώζομαι do not arise here by chance; this constitutes an important theme of the play and the poet is deliberately playing on the word.⁹⁴ After describing Ajax’s insolence which incurs divine wrath, the Messenger says to the Chorus that, if Ajax is still alive, they might perhaps become his saviours (literally ‘bringing deliverance to him’) with the help of god (τάχ᾽ ἂν γενοίμεθ᾽ αὐτοῦ σὺν θεῷ σωτήριοι).⁹⁵ The adjective σωτήριοι here means saving Ajax from death;⁹⁶ there is a tint of irony in the idea that the gods may help in saving him considering Ajax’s attitude to the gods and his last word σώζομαι in the preceding scene (line 692). Euripides’ numerous uses of soteria and its cognates overlap largely with what we have already seen.⁹⁷ Particularly worthy of attention, however, is the recurrent theme in several of his plays that a choice member should die for the salvation of his/her family and/or communuity from a crisis. The earliest surviving play of Euripides to use this motif is Heraclidae (shortly after 431 ). Driven from their homeland and pursued by the Argive king, Heracles’ family fled to Athens as suppliants of Zeus Agoraios and secured the city’s protection;⁹⁸ but the oracles pronounce that a maiden of noble birth should be sacrificed to Kore to rout the enemies and to procure deliverance for the city (πόλει σωτηρία). One of the daughters of Heracles—unnamed in the play, but usually identified as ⁹³ Soph. Aj. 692, with the commentaries of Blaydes (1875); Kamerbeek (1953–84), vol. 1, 145; Stanford (1963), 150; Garvie (1998), 192; Finglass (2011). Cf. Eur. IA 1440, where Iphigenia says that she ‘has been saved’ (σέσωμαι) by dying. ⁹⁴ Equally ambiguous and ironic is line 660, when Ajax says that he will bury his sword and let Night and Hades ‘keep it safe below’ (σῳζόντων κάτω). This appears to mean the burial and safe-keeping of the cursed sword underground, but what Ajax really has in mind is that the sword will be buried with him in his grave. Cf. similar irony in the words σῳζέσθω κάτω in Soph. El. 438. ⁹⁵ Soph. Aj. 779. The adjective usually takes a dative, meaning ‘bringing deliverance to’ someone; but here it takes an objective genitive αὐτοῦ as noted by Kamerbeek (1953–84), vol. 1, 161. ⁹⁶ Cf. Soph. Aj. 812, where Tecmessa hastens ‘to save (σῴζειν) a man who is eager to death’. This line is deleted in some editions. ⁹⁷ e.g. physical survival or escape from death: Eur. HF 54, 304, 1336, IT 487, 593–4, Or. 678, 778, 1173, Phoen. 975, Tro. 753; safe escape: Eur. Hel. 1055; safe return: Eur. Hel. 1291; safety at sea: e.g. Eur. IT 1413; public deliverance of the community: Eur. IA 1472, Heracl. 402, 1045, Phoen. 893, 898, Temenidai fr. 729 Kannicht. There are many more instances in Euripides; here I only give select examples which use the abstract noun soteria. ⁹⁸ The choice of Zeus Agoraios in Marathon is discussed by Wilkins (1993), 60. Cf. Eur. HF 48, where Heracles’ family took refuge at the altar of Zeus Soter in Thebes.

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      

Macaria—offers herself for sacrifice to save her family and the Athenians,⁹⁹ but requests a fine burial at Argos in her capacity as soteira: ‘And if deliverance from your troubles and a return home (ἀπαλλαγὴ πόνων καὶ νόστος) are ever granted to you by the gods, remember how you ought to bury your saviouress (σώτειρα): the finest burial would be right’.¹⁰⁰ Euripides does not describe her treatment after death; funeral rites and other cultic honours for the heroine are referred to in later traditions.¹⁰¹ The word soteira here serves as a description rather than a permanent cult title of the heroine. Macaria is only one of the many mythical saviourfigures who ‘saved’ a community from a crisis.¹⁰² Since the literary motif has been much discussed and concerns mythical rather than historical times, and as not all these heroes and heroines are described as soter or soteira, I shall pass over this theme in the present study.¹⁰³

1.3 Concluding Observations We have seen that divine ‘deliverance’, ‘protection’, and ‘safety’ already constituted an important theme in the extant literature of the Archaic period, and we can imagine that the concern must have long predated Homer. Not only is there no lack of verbs in Homer referring to the act of divine rescue, there are also various epithets and nouns referring to gods and goddesses as ‘protectors’, ‘defenders’, and the like. Divinities in Homer therefore already exercised various protective functions embodied in the cult epithets Soter and Soteira even though these terms are not used. Outside the Homeric epics, we meet Zeus Soter as the recipient of the third libation in Archaic drinking culture, and Poseidon and the Dioscuri referred to as ‘saviours’ at sea in the Homeric Hymns.¹⁰⁴ However, it is probably not until the early decades of the fifth century, under the impetus of the Persian Wars, that the concern for the communal and personal deliverance of the Greeks came to be conceptualized by the abstract noun soteria. It was also in this ⁹⁹ Cf. Kearns (1989), 59, who thinks that she dies to save her own kind, not the Athenians. Cf. Wilkins (1990), 331 with n. 32: she dies to save her kin and the foreign city which will defend the Heraclidae in war. ¹⁰⁰ Eur. Heracl. 402, 586–9. ¹⁰¹ Strabo 8.6.19, 377; Paus. 1.32.6; Schol. Ar. Eq. 1151; Schol. Pl. Hipp. Mai. 293a. ¹⁰² Other Euripidean plays with this theme are e.g. Eur. Phoen. 890, 893: the sacrifice of Menoeceus is described as ‘a means of safety’ (μηχανὴ σωτηρίας) and ‘a cure for safety’ (ϕάρμακον σωτηρίας); Eur. IA 1420, 1472: Iphigenia agrees to die to bring soteria and victory to the Greeks (ὡς σωτηρίαν Ἕλλησι δώσουσ᾽ ἔρχομαι νικηϕόρον); Eur. Erechtheus, fr. 360 Kannicht: the sacrifice of Erechtheus’ daughter; Eur. Hec. 303–5: the sacrifice of Hecuba’s daughter Polyxena to appease the dead Achilles. Other saviour-heroes in tragedy are e.g. Eurystheus in Eur. Heracl. 1032–5 (πόλει σωτήριος) and Oedipus in Soph. OC 459–60 (πόλει μέγας σωτῆρ), both of whom were foreigners who became soter of Athens. ¹⁰³ On this literary motif, see Lefkowitz (1986), 95–100; Loraux (1987); O’Connor-Vissser (1987); Kearns (1989), 44–63, 202; Kearns (1990); Larson (1995), 101–9; Lefkowitz (1995); Connelly (1996), Kearns (1998); Wilkins (1990). ¹⁰⁴ Zeus Soter in symposia: see n. 28; Poseidon and the Dioscuri: Hymn. Hom. 22.5, 33.6.

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period of time that we find establishments of new cults of Olympian gods called Soter, including probably that of Poseidon Soter in 480 , and of Zeus Soter in the Athenian agora.¹⁰⁵ The extraordinary danger posed by the Persian invasions seems to have given rise to a new consciousness among the Greeks of the importance of ‘salvation’. Nevertheless, we cannot completely rule out the possibility that the concept already existed earlier, but was not used in the hexameter poetry of the Archaic period. If the concept indeed existed before then, the confrontation with the Persians must have brought it to a heightened awareness among the Greeks. In its earliest attestations in Aeschylus’ Persae and Herodotus’ Histories, soteria was used exclusively in the military sphere to signify deliverance—in the elementary sense of physical survival and preservation of life—from the perils of war. Occasionally it also referred to an individual’s safe return from campaign.¹⁰⁶ When the concept is first attested in Greek literature, therefore, soteria was primarily used in emergencies, in relation to situations of life-threatening dangers. From then on the concept became more flexible and comprehensive by acquiring new aspects and associations. During the Peloponnesian War, when Athenian imperialism came into direct conflict with the autonomy of other Greek poleis, soteria sometimes overlapped or coincided with the idea of political freedom or liberation (eleutheria) from external oppression.¹⁰⁷ Its prominence in some of Thucydides’ speeches and Aristophanes’ political plays shows that soteria must have become a politically potent buzzword in public debates in Athens towards the end of the fifth century . Yet the notion of soteria also appeared in aspects of life other than the military and political, and it took on different layers of meaning. On the most basic level it could refer to the physical survival or existence of an individual or a community;¹⁰⁸ but soteria to some Greeks could also mean a safe homecoming, economic security, cure from physical afflictions, and freedom from external domination. As Thucydides’ Melian dialogue and Sophocles’ Philoctetes demonstrate, an individual and a community could have one form of soteria without the other. So varied were the word’s meanings and emphases that there was no one unified concept of soteria even in the fifth century. Instead, different conceptions of soteria might exist among different groups and within the same group in any given situation. By the end of the fifth century (or even earlier), soteria could denote the preservation of existing security or well-being rather than deliverance from real dangers encountered. It was used in the private as much as the public sphere, in connection to a range of personal needs in much milder circumstances than true ¹⁰⁵ Probably Poseidon Soter: Hdt. 7.192 (which may not involve a physical cult site); Zeus Soter in the agora: see nn. 68, 73, and sources in Agora III, 25–30. ¹⁰⁶ Aesch. Pers. 797; the cognate verb is used to express the same idea in Hdt. 4.97.6, 7.230, 8.92.1, 9.104. ¹⁰⁷ Thuc. 5.87–8. ¹⁰⁸ Aesch. Pers. 508, 735; Thuc. 5.87, 5.91.2.

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      

crises. If Zeus Soter in the Athenian agora was the great deliverer who saved the Greeks from the barbarians, by 388  when Aristophanes’ Wealth was produced, individuals were sacrificing to Zeus Soter in the Piraeus under a diversity of circumstances: for a safe voyage, a successful lawsuit, material prosperity, and favourable omens.¹⁰⁹ Other references to Zeus Soter and soteria abound in the day-to-day experiences of Aristophanes’ characters, including rather petty personal concerns, which stand in sharp contrast to their grave connotations in their earliest attestations. Although some of these uses were intended to achieve a comic effect, they still show that the concept and associated epithet were sufficiently wide to cover a range of experiences, so much so that soteria had become almost a cliché: it was overused by the Greeks in all sorts of contexts without always reflecting its original force. Unlike some other Greek terms, soter and soteria are not intrinsically sacred in meaning, but can be applied to men and gods alike, in both religious and nonreligious contexts. Alongside gods and goddesses called Soter and Soteira, we have also come across human beings sometimes similarly described in mythical and historical times who varied greatly in their social background, nature of their services, and the level of their honour received (if any). The word can potentially apply to anyone with the ability to ‘help’ or ‘save’, and the mere use of the term is not itself an indication that the individual is of divine or semi-divine status. When applied to various Aristophanic characters, it expresses hope and/or gratitude for the practical benefits they have brought or are expected to bring. It is hard to tell if Aristophanes is borrowing or perverting religious language for comic effects, as the agent noun soter had always been used in both the religious and non-religious spheres. The earliest examples of human beings informally called soter, in Aeschylus, Herodotus, and possibly other sources,¹¹⁰ are roughly contemporaneous with our earliest attestations of the word’s religious uses.¹¹¹ Much later, even when used of Hellenistic kings, as will be argued in Chapter 5, it is the word’s ability to move imperceptibly across the two spheres, and therefore to allow the Greeks to see their kings as both human and/or divine at once, that gave the word potency. We shall continue to come across numerous applications of soteria (and its cognates) by other Greek authors and by Greek worshippers themselves. As we shall see in the next two chapters, the experiences covered by soteria overlap in fact with a lot of our own concerns. Unlike some other Greek ideas, it is by no ¹⁰⁹ Ar. Plut, 1178–84. ¹¹⁰ Human ‘saviours’: see nn. 52–3. Nock (1951), 721, reminded us that such addresses in daily speech might have existed even earlier: (1) we do not know how Pisistratus was described; (2) Aesch. Supp. 980 ‘simply give(s) a particular formulation to the sentiment expressed by Odysseus to Nausicaa’ in Hom. Od. 8.464ff.; (3) Solon is said to have saved his fatherland (σώσας τὴν πατρίδα) in Ath. Pol. 11.2. ¹¹¹ Pind. Isthm. 6.7–9 (Zeus Soter in Archaic drinking rituals); Aesch. Supp. 26 (Zeus Soter); Hdt. 7.192 (Poseidon Soter in 480 ); Paus. 1.40.2–3, 44.4 (Artemis Soteira in 479 ).

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means ‘desperately alien’ to us, and scholarship may have neglected it partly for that reason.¹¹² Despite its great applicability to our own needs, however, soteria remains surprisingly difficult to pin down. It has such a broad semantic range that there is no perfect equivalent in English; instead, many different translations, each with varying nuances and emphases, are needed in different contexts and even in the same context. It is the multivalent nature of the concept which makes it so difficult to define and yet so fascinating.

¹¹² ‘Desperately alien’: Versnel (2011), 10–16.

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2 Saving the Community Saviour Gods and Collective Deliverance

During the sacrifice to inaugurate the new city, the priest in Aristophanes’ Birds prays to the new gods to ‘grant the Cloudcuckoovillians health and safety for themselves and for the Chians’ (διδόναι Νεϕελοκοκκυγιεῦσιν ὑγίειαν καὶ σωτηρίαν αὐτοῖσι καὶ Χίοισι).¹ Although it is comic fantasy, this passing reference reveals a much more pervasive practice, in Classical Athens and elsewhere, of praying to the gods for the soteria of a city, and of extend the desired blessing to members of the polis and sometimes other groups.² From their very foundation to their later development and changing fortunes,³ Greek communities would honour their gods in different situations with innumerable prayers, sacrifices, dedications, and festivals in hope and/or gratitude for the soteria of the people. What, then, did soteria actually mean to Greek communities? To which gods did Greek cities appeal for soteria, and how did local circumstances give rise to cults of ‘saviours’? After the analysis of the polyvalent meanings of soteria in the last chapter, this chapter examines more closely the role of ‘saviour’ gods in the collective experience of Greek communities, including the Greeks at large, individual poleis, and their subgroups. It will investigate the diversity of ‘saving’ experiences of these different groups, and how divine saving was represented, commemorated, and sometimes even exploited by local communities in inter-state competitions. In view of the variety of ways in which the Greeks could express similar concerns, especially the frequency with which they would pray to a divinity for soteria without explicitly calling them Soter or Soteira (as in Aristophanes’ passage), it will take into account situations where the language of saving is used and gods (not necessarily called ‘saviours’) are involved. Related epithets of city-protecting gods will also be discussed to illuminate the relationship between Soter/Soteira and other epithets with overlapping meanings.⁴

¹ Ar. Av. 878–80, with the commentary of Sommerstein (1987), 176; Dunbar (1995), 513. On the addition of the Chians, see n. 121. ² A still earlier reference to the practice of extending the benefits of a sacrifice to other beneficiaries is Hdt. 6.111.2, but the divine favours sought were τὰ ἀγαθά, not soteria. ³ On the role of ‘saviour’ gods in city foundation or re-foundation, see e.g. Paus. 3.22.12 (Artemis Soteira in Boeae); Meritt (1935), no. 1 (Zeus Soter among other gods when Colophon extended its city walls). ⁴ See Chapter 0.6 for the linguistic criteria adopted in this study.

Saviour Gods and Soteria in Ancient Greece. Theodora Suk Fong Jim, Oxford University Press. © Theodora Suk Fong Jim 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192894113.003.0003

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2.1 Protective Divinities of Cities: Titles and Epithets 2.1.1 Poliouchos, Polieus/Polias, and Medeon/Medeousa Alongside Soter and Soteira, there exist other epithets which can similarly signify a god’s power to protect a community.⁵ In the last chapter we have already met Athena under the titles of Erusiptolis and Alalkomeneis, and other gods variously described as ‘defender’ or ‘helper’ in Homer.⁶ Outside the world of Homeric epics, Poliouchos (‘Protecting a City’) is among the earliest and commonest epithets for city protectors. Already in the late Archaic period, Athena received several dedications on the Athenian acropolis under the epithet Poliouchos or Polieouchos.⁷ Derived from πόλις and ἔχω,⁸ Poliouchos evokes the imagery of the goddess ‘holding’ the polis in her hands to protect it. The same idea is expressed without this epithet in Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazousae, where the women call upon Athena, ‘who holds our city and who alone is our manifest strength and tutelary goddess’ (ἣ πόλιν ἡμετέραν ἔχει καὶ κράτος ϕανερὸν μόνη κλῃδοῦχός τε καλεῖται). Similarly concerned about the soteria of the polis, the Chorus in Aristophanes’ Knights invokes Pallas Poliouchos, ‘guardian of land (μεδέουσα χώρας) that is the most sacred of all’.⁹ These are but two passages among many which refer to Athena as the city’s protectress; they show that Athena’s protective functions can be alluded to using different images and expressions other than the epithets Soteira or Poliouchos.¹⁰ The case of Athena Poliouchos at Athens must not (mis-)lead us to think that Poliouchos has always to designate a city’s chief divinity.¹¹ Nor should we assume that a local special god normally existed in all Greek poleis as in Athens. The notion of a ‘patron’ divinity, though widely adopted in modern scholarship,¹² is slippery and problematic: in other Greek poleis a single primary deity did not always exist, or at least is not always identifiable on the basis of the evidence

⁵ On titles of city-protective gods, see Brackertz (1976), Cole (1995), Paul (2016b). ⁶ Hom. Il. 4.8, 5.908 (Athena Alalkomeneis), 6.305 (Athena Erusiptolis). Other descriptions: see Chapter 1 nn. 16–17. ⁷ IG I³ 544, 683, 718, 775 = CEG 282, 198, 235, DAA 233. These are verse inscriptions, except IG I³ 775 = DAA 233, a non-metrical inscription which nevertheless uses poetic phrases. ⁸ Etymology: Chantraine (1968–80), vol. 2, 393, s.v. ἔχω (4), vol. 3, 926, s.v. πόλις; Beekes (2009), vol. 2, 1219–20, s.v. πόλις. ⁹ Ar. Thesm. 1136–42, Eq. 581–5; see also Ar. Nub. 601–2, Lys. 345. Divine epithets in Aristophanes are discussed in Willi (2003), 18–23. ¹⁰ On Athena as the protectress of Athens, see also Solon fr. 4.1–4 West; Aesch. Eum. 1001–2; Herington (1955), 8–11, 55–8; Parker (2005b), 395–7 (with further passages). A later expression with a similar symbolic meaning to Poliouchos is θεοὶ κατέχοντες: see Schuler (2012), 85, 95. ¹¹ Athena was Poliouchos in many cities: Hdt. 1.160 (Chios); CEG 348 (Opuntian Locris); IG XII.5 41 (Naxos); IG XII.5 134 (Paros); I.Cret. IV 171, 183 (Gortyn); Paus. 3.17.2 (Sparta). Many gods other than Athena were also called Poliouchoi: Plut. Thes. 6 (Poseidon at Troezen); SEG XLI 744 (Zeus at Eleutherna); IG XIV 402 and SEG XLII 870 (Asclepius and Hygieia at Messina in Sicily). ¹² Including the important work of Hansen and Nielsen (2004).

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      

available to us. In Sparta, for instance, protective functions seem to have been shared by a constellation of divinities, including Zeus, Apollo, Artemis, Athena, and the Dioscuri. This seems to be the norm of many poleis rather than an exception. Influenced perhaps by our own expectation in relation to Athena at Athens, it is easy to assume that other poleis would similarly have a special protective god or goddess with whom the polis associated itself, when in fact ‘patron’ divinity was not a category recognized by the ancient Greeks themselves. There was no Greek equivalent which captured the sense of a ‘local special god’, nor is this status a formally recognized one. The notion is, as Cole reminds us, more our own construct.¹³ Even in cases where a special protective divinity (whether called Poliouchos or some other title) can be identified for a given polis, what is certain is that the city still needed the protection of other divine protectors. This holds true for Athens, even though the city was felt to enjoy the special protection of Athena. In Greek polytheism each community was dependent on the favour of many divinities, since no god could have a unique relationship with a single city to the exclusion of others.¹⁴ As far as Poliouchos is concerned, it can refer to any god and even all the gods of the city, and is by no means exclusive to a city’s major divinity (if there was one). Aeschylus’ Seven Against Thebes applies it to all the gods of Thebes collectively. The Chorus of Theban maidens prays to θεοὶ πολιάοχοι χθονός (‘cityprotecting gods of the land’), and goes on to invoke them in succession as Zeus, Pallas, Poseidon, Ares, Kypris, Lykeios, Hera, and Artemis.¹⁵ Elsewhere in the same play, the poetic form Polissouchoi is used: Eteocles vows a great sacrifice and other victory offerings to χώρας οἱ πολισσοῦχοι θεοί (‘city-protecting gods of the land/country’), including those who dwell in the plains and those who watch over the agora, should the city be saved (πόλεως σεσωμένης) from its military crisis.¹⁶ In Agamemnon, Aeschylus uses the related term ἀστυνόμοι (‘protecting the city’) to refer to all the gods who protect the city, in much the same way that he uses Poliouchoi and Polissouchoi. Subsumed within θεοὶ ἀστυνόμοι are the gods above, the gods of the earth, those outside the city, and those of the agora.¹⁷ The prefix ἄστυ- usually refers to the town as opposed to the country (ἀγρός), but Aeschylus seems to make no such spatial distinction, and uses it in much the same sense as πόλις (in the sense of the city at large). Like Soter/Soteira, therefore, Poliouchos

¹³ Burkert (1995); Cole (1995); Bonnet and Pirenne-Delforge (2014), with critical review of Brackertz (1976)’s criteria for identifying ‘patron’ divinities. See also Parker (2005b), 395–7. ¹⁴ The problem of whether a city’s ‘patron’ divinity would necessarily favour his/her own city is complicated by Hom. Il. 6.297–311, where Athena, despite being the major goddess of Troy, did not listen to the prayer of the Trojan women. Discussed in Burkert (1995), 208–9; Pirenne-Delforge (2017), 147–9. ¹⁵ Aesch. Sept. 109, 128–57, with Hutchinson (1985), ad loc. See also πολιοῦχοι δαίμονες in line 822, though the anapaests 822–31 are generally thought to be inserted by a different hand. ¹⁶ Aesch. Sept. 271–2. Used also in lines 69 and 185, πολισσοῦχος is the poetic form of πολιοῦχος. ¹⁷ Aesch. Ag. 88–90. Cf. ϝἀστύοχος used of Heracles in IG V.2 77 I (Tegea, undated).

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and the much rarer Astynomoi could potentially apply to all the gods who could save the city. Whereas Poliouchos was applicable to multiple gods, the related epithets Πολιεύς and Πολιάς were exclusively associated with Zeus and Athena respectively. But as with Poliouchos, they need not imply that the gods thus named were the principal divinities of the place concerned: Athena Polias appears as early as the sixth century  in Argos, where the most important goddess was Hera.¹⁸ Derived from the noun πόλις, the two epithets originally refer to Zeus and Athena as guardians of the polis in the sense of the ‘acropolis’, and would have the connotations of strength and defence which the citadel evokes; it is only subsequently that they developed their wider meaning of the ‘city’ in the later sense of polis. Closely related to Πολιεύς and Πολιάς are μεδέων and μεδέουσα: they go back to even earlier in the Archaic period, and are not restricted to Athena and Zeus.¹⁹ From the verb μέδω (‘protect’, ‘rule over’), these epithets have the double meaning of ‘ruling over’ and ‘protecting’, and are accompanied by a genitive indicating the object of their rule or protection.

2.1.2 Soter/Soteira There is no direct correlation between the epithets Soter and Soteira and a divinity’s poliadic status. It is true that the chief divinities of some poleis (where identifiable) are sometimes attested under these titles: for example, Kore at Kyzicus, Hecate at Lagina, Apollo at Miletus, and later, Artemis at Ephesus.²⁰ Nevertheless, a larger number of principal gods are not attested under the titles of Soter and Soteira: Hera at Samos and Argos; Apollo at Delphi, Delos, Epidaurus, and Megara; Apollo and Artemis at Sicyon, just to name a few. These divinities did not need this epithet to exercise their protective functions: whether the title was used or not, they could be expected to guarantee the security of the polis and to oversee its soteria in general: political protection, military defence, and the general well-being of its members. But when more specific problems struck—such as plagues, earthquakes, and other natural catastrophes, worshippers might turn to other gods whose special skills were needed for soteria. In fact any divinity who could ‘save’ a city might be called Soter or Soteira, and so these epithets were by no means confined to a particular protective divinity. It is not uncommon to find

¹⁸ SEG XI 314. ¹⁹ Homer’s Iliad uses μεδέων always of Zeus, but more in the sense of ‘ruling over’ than ‘protecting’ a place: e.g. Hom. Il. 3.276, 16.234. Other gods and goddesses could also be called μεδέων and μεδέουσα: e.g. Hymn. Hom. 4.2 (Hermes), 10.4 (Aphrodite); Hes. Theog. 54 (Mnemosyne); Pind. fr. 95 (Pan); Syll.³ 1044.8 (Apollo); CIRB 22 (Hecate), 971 (Aphrodite). ²⁰ One example each: Barth and Stauber (1996), IMT, no. 1445 = Reinach (1890), 537–8, no. 2 (Cyzicus); I.Stratonikeia 507.6 (Lagina); I.Milet VI.1 279 (Miletus); I.Ephesos 1265 (Ephesus).

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      

prayers and offerings addressed to a plurality of gods as ‘saviours’ of a city. In Drepanum (or Trapani) in Sicily, for instance, a military commander dedicated ‘to all saviour gods of the city of the Drepani[ans]’ (Θεοῖς πᾶσι Δρεπαναί[ων] πόλεω[ς] σ⟨ω⟩τῆρσι).²¹ To commemorate the polis’ deliverance from an earthquake, a thank-offering in Cos was addressed ‘[to Zeus a]nd Hera Olym[pio]i and [al]l the gods saving [th]e city’ ([Διὶ κ]αὶ Ἥρᾳ Ὀλυμ[πίο]ις καὶ θεοῖς [πᾶσ]ι σώζουσι [τὰ]μ̣ πόλιν).²² In these instances Soter and its participle form Sozon are used in much the same way that Poliouchos is used in the Aeschylean passages seen earlier. The dividing line between these epithets is therefore thin and fluid. Given these various expressions for city-protecting gods, how then did Poliouchos, Polieus/Polias, and Medeon/Medeousa relate to Soter/Soteira? Compared to Soter/ Soteira, the protective power expressed by these epithets is of a much more general kind that is often associated with the most prominent divinities of a city. By contrast, the meaning of Soter and Soteira can expand or contract: in some cases they may extend to encompass the general protection entailed in Poliouchos or Polieus/Polias. Kore at Cyzicus is an example: here her epithet Soteira functions much like Poliouchos or Polias.²³ But very often Soter and Soteira represent a more specific aspect within the general protection these gods could offer, especially when particular problems struck. Poliouchos and Polieus/Polias tend to be defensive in character (though these could be used in crises too), whereas Soter and Soteira can be reactionary and/or precautionary. Thus in normal circumstances the Athenians might pray to Athena Polias or Athena Poliouchos for the defence and well-being of their city, but in critical situations they might invoke Athena Soteira for deliverance from specific crises. An example comes towards the end of the Peloponnesian War, when the safety of Athens was at stake: the Chorus in Aristophanes’ Frogs appeals to Soteira ‘who affirms that she will keep (Attic) land safe for all time to come’ (ἣ τὴν χώραν σώσειν ϕήσ᾽ εἰς τὰς ὥρας).²⁴ The goddess is most likely to be Athena, and her title Soteira is here an intense expression of a pressing concern and suits better the emergency at hand, though Poliouchos can also convey a similar sense. How the Greeks chose between these titles with overlapping meanings is a tricky question which eludes us. Another difference between Soter/Soteira and these other epithets lies in the status of the gods concerned. Many, though not all, of the gods called Poliouchos, Polieus/ Polias, and Medeon/Medeousa were among the most prominent deities in a local pantheon. Because of their derivation from πόλις and μέδω, they carry a sense of sovereignty and prominence that is absent in Soter and Soteira—as we shall see in this study, any divine figures might be so called as long as they could save, regardless of their status in the local pantheon. As a result Soter and Soteira ²¹ SEG LII 893 (undated). ²² IG XII.4 542 (early second century ). ²³ On Kore Soteira at Cyzicus, see Chapter 2.4 below. ²⁴ Ar. Ran. 378–81. Soteira’s identity is discussed in Jim (2015).

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were much more widely applied to different gods than these other titles, though Poliouchos is, as we have seen, also potentially ‘trans-divine’.

2.1.3 Prostaterios, Prostates, and Other Expressions A different group of epithets with overlapping meanings, all with the prefix πρό-, expresses the protection a god (or his image) offers by standing ‘in front’. In Aeschylus’ Seven Against Thebes, Eteocles trusts that the Electran gate could be defended by Polyphontes together with the goodwill of Artemis Prostaterios (‘Standing in Front’, ‘Protecting’) and other gods. He might be alluding to a sanctuary or cult statue of Artemis under this title outside the city gate of Thebes.²⁵ Nevertheless, the spatial reference of προστατήριος is not necessarily specific to the polis: the divinity thus named was a general protector who might stand in front of a threatened individual, group, place, or entity to protect it from harm.²⁶ The epithet is often used of Artemis and Apollo, whose statues might be placed in front of doors, gates, or other entrances to ward off evil.²⁷ The same sense is expressed by προστάτης (‘who stands before’), which is frequently used of Apollo.²⁸ The cognate verb προστατέω (‘stand before as a defender’) is used in Euripides’ Heraclidae of Hera, who defends the Argives against Athens. The participle form προστατοῦσα is attested in the Hellenistic period: in Chersonesus in the Black Sea, its chief goddess Parthenos is said to be ‘always the protectress of the Chersonesitans’ (ἁ διὰ παντὸς Χερσονασιτᾶν προστατοῦσα Παρθένος).²⁹ Prostaterios and Prostates are not confined to religious contexts, but can refer to anything placed in front of something.³⁰ These terms also leave open the object before which the god (or his image or altar, etc.) stands, whereas some other epithets, such as προθυραία (‘before the door’) and προπύλαιος (‘before the gate’),³¹ specify what is under protection. Other expressions use a qualifying genitive to specify that a polis is being protected. In the Hellenistic period and beyond, we

²⁵ Aesch. Sept. 449–50, with commentaries of Verrall (1887), Tucker (1908), and Hutchinson (1985). ²⁶ e.g. Soph. El. 637: Clytemnestra prays to the image of Apollo in front of the palace, addressing him as Phoibos Prostaterios. ²⁷ On statues of Apollo (without the epithet Prostaterios) at city gates, probably shooting his arrows to avert plagues, see e.g. Merkelbach and Stauber (1996), no. 4, lines 18–20 (Hierapolis), no. 9, lines 29–30 (Callipolis on the Thracian Chersonesus). ²⁸ e.g. Soph. Trach. 209; IOSPE I² 80–115 (Olbia, imperial period). ²⁹ Eur. Heracl. 349–50; IOSPE I² 352 = IOSPE³ III 8, lines 23–4 (Crimean Chersonesus, c.110 ). ³⁰ Non-religious use: e.g. Aesch. Ag. 976, referring to ‘fear hovering before my heart’ (δεῖμα προστατήριον καρδίας). ³¹ e.g. IG IV².1 276 (Ἀρτάμιτος Προθυραίας in Epidauros, third century ). The adjective propylaios already describes a statue or altar of (Apollo) Aguieus in Ar. Vesp. 875. The Molpoi inscription from Miletus, LSAM 50 (450/449 ), refers to a Ἑκάτη ἡ πρόσθεν πυλέων. But Propylaios and Propylaia do not seem to be attested as cult epithets until much later: Paus. 1.22.8 (statue of Hermes Propylaios, at the entrance to the Athenian acropolis), 1.38.6 (temple of Artemis Propylaia at Eleusis). On theoi propylaioi, see also Carratelli (1965).

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      

find gods and goddesses referred to as προκαθήμενος/προκαθήμενα τῆς πόλεως (from προκάθημαι ‘to be seated before’, ‘to lie before’), and προεστώς/προεστῶσα τῆς πόλεως (from προΐστημι ‘to set before’, ‘to stand before’). In the ancient city of Elaia near Pergamum, Demeter and Kore received sacrifice as προκαθήμεναι θεαὶ τῆς πόλεως ἡμῶν. In Aphrodisia, Aphrodite is variously called προκαθημένη τῆς πόλεως ὑμῶν θεός and [προεστ]ῶσ̣α τῆς πόλε[ως ἡμ]ῶ̣ν ἐπιϕανεστά[τη θ]εά.³² These phrases represent part of a strategy we shall see later, in the Hellenistic period and beyond, by which different cities sought to emphasize the special relations and protection they enjoyed from a particular divinity.

2.2 Panhellenic ‘Saving’ Experience 2.2.1 The Eleutheria at Plataea We saw in Chapter 1 that it was probably in the context of the Persian Wars, when the Greeks were confronted with the unprecedented threat of a common external enemy, that the notion of σωτηρία was crytallized or brought to a heightened awareness among the Greeks. We also discussed the stoa of Zeus Soter/Eleutherios in the Athenian agora, erected presumably to commemorate the liberation of the Greeks from the Persians, and which continued to be a site of memory for other battles concerned the soteria and eleutheria of the Athenians.³³ Outside Athens, in connection with the same conflicts with the Persians, we find another cult and possibly festival of Zeus Eleutherios, in Plataea, which was of Panhellenic significance. Like the cult in the Athenian agora, there was a close link between Zeus’ two epithets Soter and Eleutherios in Plataea. Even though the cult subsequently set up in Plataea was in honour of Zeus Eleutherios, the god who intervened in the battle of Plataea (479 ) is said to be Zeus Soter in one late source.³⁴ Plutarch recounts how, revealing himself in the dreams of the general of the Plataeans, Zeus Soter dissuades him from moving the Greek army to Eleusis. After their victory at ³² Demeter and Kore: Syll.³ 694.50 (129 ). Aphrodite: I.Aphrodisias and Rome, no. 18; MAMA VIII 413a.8–10. Other examples are discussed in Brackertz (1976), 211–16, 230–2; Schuler (2012), 84–6. ³³ Isoc. 9.57: when the Greeks were set free from Sparta (οἱ δ᾽ Ἕλληνες ἠλευθερώθησαν) after their victory in the battle of Cnidus in 394 , Conon and Evagoras were granted honorific statues next to the statue of Zeus Soter in the Athenian agora. Paus. 1.26.2, 10.21.5–6: the inscribed shields of Leokritos and Kydias, two Athenians who died fighting against the Macedonians and the Gauls in the early third century , were dedicated in the stoa of Zeus Eleutherios. ³⁴ The main sources are Thuc. 2.71, 3.58; Posidippus fr. 31 K.–A.; Plut. Arist. 11, 19–21; Diod. Sic. 11.29; Paus. 9.2.5–6; Strabo 9.2.31, 412; Anth. Pal. 6.50 (a variant of the epigram in Plut. Arist. 19.6; Plut. De malignitate Herodoti 873b). See also Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 3, 180–1; Schachter (1981–94), vol. 3, 125–35; Rigsby (1996), 49–51; Mikalson (2003), 91–2, 99–100; Raaflaub (2004), 102–4; Wallace (2011); Wallace (forthcoming).

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Plataea, the Greeks were instructed by the Delphic oracle to set up an altar of Zeus Eleutherios and to sacrifice upon it.³⁵ The establishment of this local cult is confirmed by Thucydides: in their debate with the Spartans during the Peloponnesian War, the Plataeans reminded them of the sacrifice performed by the Spartan Pausanias to Zeus Eleutherios in their agora immediately after the battle of Plataea, and of how he guaranteed the independence and inviolability of Plataea. The Plataeans were using the battle’s significance in the ‘liberation of the Greeks’ to appeal to Spartan sentiments.³⁶ A cult of Zeus Eleutherios, then, already existed in Plataea in the fifth century and received sacrifices on a local scale. Apart from these local sacrifices, there was to be a Panhellenic festival in commemoration of the event according to later sources. Plutarch records the proposal of Aristides, ratified in the general assembly of the Greeks after the battle of Plataea, to establish a festival of liberation, the Eleutheria, which was to be celebrated by all the Greeks every four years on the anniversary of the battle. Aristides’ role in its establishment is not recorded in Diodorus Siculus,³⁷ but whatever the extent of Athenian initiative, this common-Greek festival is represented by both authors as going back to 479 . Curiously, however, for reasons not entirely clear to us, it is not attested until as late as the middle of the third century . It is alluded to in a decree in honour of the Athenian Glaukon, who enriched ‘the sacrifice in honour of Zeus Eleutherios and Homonoia and the contest which the Greeks celebrate at the tomb of the heroes (literally “good men”) who fought against the barbarians for the liberty of the Greeks (ὑπερ τῆς τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἐλευθερίας)’.³⁸ Some scholars consider it possible that the Plataean Eleutheria had started earlier than this decree, under Macedonian patronage in the 330s, when Philip II and Alexander revived the ideology of Greek freedom as they planned a Panhellenic war against Persia. Accordingly, the 330s might be the terminus ante quem for its (re-)establishment, but how far back can we trace this Panhellenic festival? The Eleutheria is unlikely to have been held after the destruction of Plataea caused by the Spartans in 427  during the Peloponnesian War: it lay desolate for most of the period from 427 until 338 , when Philip won his victory at Chaeronea and restored the Plataeans to their homeland.³⁹ We can only

³⁵ Plut. Arist. 11.5–6 (dream manifestation), 19.6–7 (altar and sacrifice), 20.4–5 (cult foundation). Simon. Plataea elegy, fr. 14.7 West², alludes to Zeus’ approval (νεύσαντο[ς]) in a fragmentary context; this leads Petridou (2015), 121–2, to wonder if this points to Zeus’ dream epiphany. She considers the dream epiphany very probably a ‘post eventum fabrication of Diodorus’. ³⁶ Thuc. 2.71. ³⁷ Plut. Arist. 21.1–2; cf. Diod. Sic. 11.29. ³⁸ Glaukon’s decree: Étienne and Piérart (1975); Thériault (1996), 112–18; English translation in Austin (2006), no. 63. Étienne and Piérart date this decree to 261–246 , but consider it possible (at 68) that the Eleutheria had started earlier, under Macedonian patronage in the 330s after Chaeronea. The possibility of Macedonian (re-)foundation is entertained by West (1977); Schachter (1981–94), vol. 3, 130–1; Wallace (2011). ³⁹ I owe this observation to Chikako Sugawara, who kindly shared with me her thoughts on the Plataean Eleutheria. Destruction in 427 : Thuc. 3.68.3. Repatriation by Philip II: Paus. 4.27.10, 9.1.8. See also Prandi (1988), esp. 62–3, 160–8; Badian (1993); Hansen and Nielsen (2004), no. 216.

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      

speculate whether the festival was celebrated before its destruction, that is, during the half-century between 479 and 427, but has left no traces in fifth-century literary and epigraphic evidence. Despite the close link between the epithets Soter and Eleutherios in both the Athenian and Plataean cults of Zeus, and despite the possible Athenian initiatives (through Aristides, according to Plutarch) in the Plataean festival, the Plataean Eleutheria appears to have been established independently of and possibly later than the Athenian cult of Zeus Soter/Eleutherios in the agora; it also had a Panhellenic significance and clientele not paralleled by the Athenian cult. This common-Greek festival at Plataea is worth mentioning since it is often regarded as the prototype of Soteria festivals in the later period. As we shall see shortly, the commemoration of collective Greek deliverance with cult and festival, like the one at Plataea, was to become increasingly common in the Hellenistic era. Instead of Eleutheria, some of these later celebrations were termed Soteria. The last chapter has already discussed the early relationship between soteria and eleutheria: originally these were two contemporaneous and separate concepts expressing different concerns—soteria denoted physical survival and preservation, eleutheria political freedom—and the two concepts did not coincide with each other until the Peloponnesian War.⁴⁰ From the Classical period on, as the meaning of soteria continued to expand and acquire other aspects and associations, at times the concept would coincide, overlap, and become almost synonymous with eleutheria in certain political situations. That Plutarch refers to Zeus Soter in Plataea, whereas Classical sources speak of Zeus Eleutherios, may have been influenced by the often interchangeable uses of soteria and eleutheria (and their cognates) in some political contexts. This may also explain why, instead of Eleutheria, some Hellenistic festivals similarly celebrating political liberation were called Soteria.⁴¹

2.2.2 The Delphic Soteria Two centuries after the major danger posed by the Persians, the Greeks were invaded by another group of barbarians—the Gauls had been advancing through northern Greece, and reached as far as Delphi in 279 . There the Galatian forces under Brennus were miraculously repulsed by the Greeks with divine help. Shortly afterwards, in the spring of 278 , the Coans decided to offer thanksgiving sacrifices at Delphi and on Cos. Their express motive for the sacrifices, according to their decree, was ‘so that it may be manifest that the demos shares in the joy of ⁴⁰ Contra Raaflaub (2004), esp. 108–10, 113; see discussion in Chapter 1. ⁴¹ e.g. A third-century festival in Priene, celebrating its liberation from tyranny, as documented in I.Priene 11 = I.Priene IK 6 (see Chapter 2.3 below).

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the Greeks over the victory and that it duly pays thank-offerings to the god for the epiphany that took place in the dangers confronting the sanctuary and for the deliverance (soteria) of the Greeks’.⁴² On reaching Delphi, the Coan theoroi were to sacrifice a gold-horned ox to Apollo Pythios ‘on behalf of the soteria of the Greeks’ (lines 23–5). On Cos, the prostatai were to sacrifice to Apollo Pythios, Zeus Soter, and Nike a full-grown victim each, and the day of its performance was to be declared a sacred day ‘because of the deliverance and victory of the Greeks’ (line 40). In a remarkable contrast to the local self-interest and inter-state rivalry which characterized much of Greek history, what was (ostensibly) celebrated here was not so much the self-preservation of the Coans themselves but the collective ‘salvation’ and ‘deliverance’ of the Greeks from a common threat. Subsequently, a new festival commemorating deliverance from the Gauls, called the Σωτήρια, was established sometime between 278 and the 260s by the Delphic Amphictiony, then under the control of the Aetolian Confederacy.⁴³ Organized probably annually and separately from the Pythia,⁴⁴ this was expanded by the Aetolians in the archonship of Polyeuktos in Athens, variously dated in the 240s,⁴⁵ when it was declared a penteteric crown contest equal to the Pythian games (in musical contests) and Nemean games (in gymnastic and equestrian contests), and delegations were sent out to other Greek cities to seek recognition for the festival. From the surviving decrees accepting the invitation, we learn that the expanded Soteria was presented by the Aetolians as ‘a reminder of the salvation of the Greeks and the victory over the barbarians who attacked the sanctuary of Apollo common to the Greeks’.⁴⁶ The Coan inscription is the only available contemporary reference to the miraculous defeat of the Gauls in 279 . Despite its mention of the ‘epiphany’ of the god and his punishment of the aggressors, it does not describe how Apollo actually intervened.⁴⁷ Later literary accounts, by contrast, are more elaborate in ⁴² IG XII.4 68, Syll.³ 398, lines 14–20; Austin (2006), no. 60. ⁴³ On the Delphi Soteria, see Reinach (1904); Roussel (1924); Nachtergael (1977); Sherwin-White (1978), 107–8; Sánchez (2001), 305–9. On new Panhellenic festivals in the Hellenistic period, see Robert (1936), 21–2 (784–5 in reprint); Parker (2004a); Rutherford (2013), 54, 76–88. ⁴⁴ It is disputed whether it was celebrated annually (as Nachtergael suggests) or every other year: see Knoepfler (1995), 152–5, with Scholten (2000), 42 n. 47, 238. ⁴⁵ Following Nachtergael (1977), it is sometimes accepted that the archonship of Polyeuktos dates to 246/5, and the first celebration of the expanded festival to 245/4: e.g. Sánchez (2001), 307; Parker (2004a), 19. Others date the archonship to 247/6: e.g. Meritt (1981); Knoepfler (1995), 158–9. But J. D. Morgan dates the archonship to 250/249 in an unpublished conference paper entitled ‘Polyeuktos, the Soteria, and the Chronology of Athens and Delphi in the Mid-Third Century ’, the abstract of which is in AJA 102 (1998), 389. On the Aetolian role and propaganda, see Flacelière (1937); Champion (1995); Grainger (1999), esp. 100–4, 144–6; Scholten (2000), 31–45, 99–102, and appendix A. ⁴⁶ Surviving recognition decrees are collected in Nachtergael (1977), appendix III, nos. 21–7 (quotation at no. 22.5–7 from Chios). Similar formulations, with some variations, appear in several other decrees: nos. 21.9–12 (Athens), 23.4–6 (Tenos), 24.7–9 (a Cycladic island). Rather different in language is no. 25 (Smyrna), which may belong to a later date than nos. 21–4, as Elymn (1990) suggests. ⁴⁷ IG XII.4 68, Syll.³ 398 (lines 5–6, 17–19). See also Call. Hymn 4, 171ff., where Apollo is the only god mentioned in the Gallic invasion, and Ptolemy II Philadelphus is put on a par with the god.

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      

their descriptions of the divine manifestation, and mention divine figures other than Apollo.⁴⁸ Pausanias tells how thunder and lightning were sent by the god (10.23.1: ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ), along with other natural phenomena involving severe frost, snow, and landslide. He also relates the intervention of the heroes Hyperochus, Laodocus, Pyrrhus, and Phylacus, and the mania sent by the god (10.23.8: ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ, probably Pan), which led the Gauls to slaughter among themselves.⁴⁹ The most graphic account comes from Justin: he describes how Apollo, manifesting himself as a beautiful youth, was seen leaping into his temple through the opening in its roof; the god was accompanied by Athena and Artemis in armour from the nearby temples. These goddesses are sometimes interpreted as the ‘White Maidens’ referred to in some other accounts. Diodorus Siculus mentions Apollo’s oracle which proclaimed that the god, along with the White Maidens, would protect (ϕυλάξειν) everything in the sanctuary; he adds that the ‘White Maidens’ were taken by the Greeks to be Athena Pronaia and Artemis from the precinct in Delphi.⁵⁰ Cicero’s De divinatione associates the White Maidens in the oracle with the snowstorm, but it is also possible to wonder whether the attribute ‘white’ was an allusion to ‘light’ or ‘salvation’. The appearance of the two goddesses in some of these sources might well have been a piece of propaganda by the Aetolians to advertise their central role in defending Delphi and Greece: Artemis and Athena were important divinities in Aetolia.⁵¹ Influenced possibly to different degrees by the Aetolian version of events and by ancient authors’ desire to draw parallels with the Persian Wars, the various literary accounts cannot be taken as faithful representations of the event. Despite the discrepancies in the sources and their elements of invention, what nevertheless seems clear is Apollo’s paramount role in defending his sanctuary and the Greek forces. His epiphany is the only one mentioned in the Coan decree, and he was given precedence over Zeus and Nike in the sacrifice on Cos. Despite his major, if not exclusive, role, Apollo was surprisingly not called Soter, in the Coan decree or in later sources. The title went instead to Zeus, who overshadowed ⁴⁸ The main literary accounts are Callim. Hymn 4, 171ff., Galatea, fr. 378–9; Diod. Sic. 22.9; Paus. 1.4.4, 10.19.5–10.23 (esp. 10.23 on divine epiphanies); Just. Epit. 24.4–8; Cic. Div. 1.37, 81. The sources are discussed in Nachtergael (1977), ch. 2. On military epiphanies, see Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 3, 11–46. On epiphanies in the Gallic wars specifically, see Graf (2004), 120–1; Platt (2011), 154–6; Petridou (2015), 122–4. ⁴⁹ Nachtergael (1977), 25, takes ‘the god’ in 10.23.8 as Apollo. However, Pan is explicitly associated with the panic in Paus. 10.23.7, and is most probably ‘the god’ in the passage which immediate follows. ⁵⁰ Diod. Sic. 22.9. Suda s.v. Ἐμοὶ μελήσει ταῦτα καὶ λευκαῖς κόραις, also explains the ‘White Maidens’ in the oracle as Athena and Artemis. Cf. the oracle in Paus. 10.22.12: ‘he proclaimed that he would himself defend his own’ (ϕυλάξειν δὲ αὐτὸς ἐπηγγέλλετο τὰ ἑαυτοῦ), with commentary in Frazer (1913), vol. 5, 344–6. See also Parke and Wormell (1956), vol. 1, 254–9. On the sanctuary of Athena Pronaia in Delphi, see Homolle (1902); Bourguet (1914), 304–29; Demangel, Daux, Charbonneaux, and Gottlob (1923–6); Bommelaer (1991), 47–71. Bommelaer, at 27, 50–1, thinks that Artemis had a (yet unidentified) temple in the precinct of Athena Pronaia or nearby, but his view seems to be based on Diod. Sic. and Justin rather than actual archaeological finds. ⁵¹ On the cults of Artemis and Athena in Aetolia, see Antonetti (1990), 241–69, 281–2.

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Apollo in the expanded Panhellenic festival: surviving recognition decrees refer to the contest of the Soteria as honouring Zeus Soter and Apollo Pythios (ὁ ἀγὼν τῶν Σωτηρίων τῶι Διὶ τῶι Σωτῆρι καὶ τῶι Ἀπόλλωνι τῶι Πυθίωι).⁵² Why, then, should Zeus be given such an epithet and prominence despite his apparent lack of involvement in the conflict?⁵³ The Zeus Soter presiding over the penteteric festival has a Panhellenic significance. This was a Panhellenic Zeus, a Saviour who cared for all the Greeks alike, and not a local or poliadic Zeus who might favour a particular polis over another. Zeus was chosen as Soter presumably because of his relevance to all the Greeks and his great popularity as a mighty protector in military affairs. As the king of gods, he was the most suitable symbol of Panhellenic solidarity and the victory of Hellenism over barbarianism.

2.3 Saving the Polis: Soteria at Local Level 2.3.1 Warfare and Military Crises We saw in the last chapter how Poseidon was honoured as Soter for wrecking the Persian fleet in favour of the Greeks in 480 . At about the same time, during the same struggle with the Persians, the cult of Artemis Soteira was established in Megara, though with local rather than Panhellenic significance. Pausanias relates how, when a contingent of Mardonius’ army marched through Megaris in 479 , night came on ‘with the will of Artemis’ (γνώμῃ Ἀρτέμιδος), so that the soldiers were unable to see in the dark and wandered into a hilly region. There, they exhausted their arrows shooting against the rocks, which echoed like soldiers groaning, thinking that they were shooting at their enemy. This left them without arms in their later engagement with the opposing camp. For this reason the Megarians had an image of Artemis Soteira made by Strongylion, and a bronze replica was erected in the town of Pagae nearby. We have no contemporary evidence of this cult in the Classical period. In the imperial period coins of both Megara and Pagae depict Artemis running in a short tunic and carrying a torch in each hand, an image probably modelled on Strongylion’s original statue.⁵⁴ Slightly more than a century later, Megara’s colony Byzantium was delivered by a similar instance of divine intervention when Philip II tried to take the city by surprise in 340/339. The goddess concerned is here Hecate Phosphoros, ‘Lightbringer’, not Artemis Soteira, but Hecate was always closely associated with ⁵² Nachtergael (1977), appendix III, nos. 21.8–9, 23.3–4, 24.5–7, 25.8. ⁵³ The cult of Zeus was insignificant in Aetolian religion; Zeus Soter is attested only in isolated instances in Aetolia, e.g. in IG IX.I² 137.85–6: see Antonetti (1990), 256. ⁵⁴ Paus. 1.40.2–3, 44.4, with commentaries. Coins: LIMC II.1 s.v. Artemis, nos. 448–9 (imperial period). A priestess of Artemis Soteira is attested in IG VII 112 (Roman period), and [Artemis] Soteira is restored in the fragmentary IG VII 16.b.10 (undated).

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      

Artemis and ‘Light-bringing’ was often both a literal and metaphorical reference to saving. According to Stephanus of Byzantium, the citizens were alerted by the enemies’ torches, but according to Heschyius of Miletus, by clouds of fire and the barking of dogs on a moonless and stormy light. Whatever the precise mode of divine manifestation, the city set up a statue of Hecate holding torches in thanks and commemoration of the event.⁵⁵ The lexicographers’ accounts imply that Byzantium established the cult of Hecate Phosphoros spontaneously after its deliverance in the fourth century, but it seems probable that the cult was brought there by settlers from Megara. (Other) cultic links between Megara and Byzantium are well attested, and this might well be a case where a cult of Artemis Soteira spread from the mother-city to its colony, and took on a different (but closely associated) divine name and epithet. Byzantine coins of imperial date, like contemporary coins at Megara and Pagae, bear the image of a goddess holding two torches; she is variously identified by modern scholars as Artemis, Hecate, or Persephone, all of whom are torch-bearing divinities.⁵⁶ Artemis is again believed to have intervened in the third century , when the Aetolian forces invaded the Peloponnese and seized the town of Pellene in Achaea in 241 . Plutarch describes vividly how, amid the confusion, a captive woman of great beauty and stature wearing a crested helmet happened to be standing in front of the sanctuary of Artemis Soteira and looking down from the acropolis. Mistaken as the goddess herself, she struck the enemy with such amazement and terror that they could not defend themselves. But according to the Pellenians, it was the statue of Artemis, brought forth by the priestess from her temple, which robbed the enemy of their senses. This statue was so terrifying to look at that no one would normally touch or gaze upon it except the priestess, and on this occasion it proved useful in terrifying the enemy.⁵⁷ Whether Artemis intervened by means of a mortal woman, her cult statue, or her own manifestation, she probably received the title Soteira in Pellene in commemoration of this intervention. Three different episodes, each from a different time and place, provide valuable pieces of evidence for how Artemis (and the closely associated Hecate) were believed to ‘save’. Warfare involved the protection of many ‘saving’ divinities; nevertheless, Artemis has dominated our discussion here partly because of her great popularity in warfare, and partly because her saving interventions are fortunately described in some literary narratives in a level of details not available ⁵⁵ Hesychius of Miletus, FGrH 390 F 1, 27; Steph. Byz. s.v. Bosporos. A similar nocturnal intervention involving torches is recorded by Polyaenus Strat. 1.12. ⁵⁶ Coins: e.g. BMC Thrace, 100, no. 69; Schönert-Geiss (1972), vol. 2, 35–6, nos. 1454–5, 1528, 1568, 1667, 1691. The evidence is discussed in Firatli and Robert (1964), 155–7, and Loukopoulo (1989), 105–9. On the connections between the epithet Phosphoros, light, and soteria, see also Zografou (2005), 534–5. ⁵⁷ Plut. Arat. 32, with Paus. 7.27.3 and discussion in Platt (2011), 13–19. Plutarch does not refer to Artemis under the epithet Soteira, but she is identified as such in Pausanias.

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to us for other saviour figures such as Zeus Soter. According to Vernant’s elegant theory, Artemis was not a goddess of the wild as often supposed, but a goddess of the margin who presided over the boundary between the civilized and the wild, order and disorder, familiar and unknown.⁵⁸ Where warfare is concerned, he argued, Artemis intervened when a battle turned so savage that a city was threatened with total annihilation, that is, when the boundary between savagery and civilization was crossed. At such moments she brought deliverance not by physical or military force, but indirectly by causing mental confusion or panic among the aggressors. In his corrective to Vernant’s approach, however, Parker points out that Artemis intervened not necessarily in the postulated situation of total war—indeed none of the episodes just examined can be regarded as such; instead her intervention tends to occur at night and always relates in some way to light or vision.⁵⁹ It is tempting to think that the double torches of Artemis Soteira, substituting for the bow as her usual attribute, contributed somehow to achieving this. It is as if the flames of her burning torches could cast a temporary veil over the human eyes or cause a blurring of vision. Whatever the precise functions of her double torches, they are clearly charged with metaphorical values of ‘light’ (ϕάος), which, from Homer onwards, was a metaphor for ‘salvation’.⁶⁰ Artemis the ‘light-bringer’ (Phosphoros) was also one who could bring ‘salvation’ (Soteira) to her worshippers; the goddess is sometimes attested under both epithets in the sources.⁶¹ What is less clear, however, is why Artemis Soteira/Phosphoros often (though not always) carried two torches, instead of one.⁶² While we may expect Artemis Soteira to be at work indirectly in warfare, it is rather unusual, and even bizarre, to find Asclepius intervening as a ‘saviour’ on the battlefield. Asclepius first acquired the epithet Soter, not in recognition of his healing power, but because of his saving intervention in a military conflict, as we learn from a paean of Isyllos inscribed on a large stele in Epidaurus. The paean

⁵⁸ Vernant (1991), 195–206, 246–50. ⁵⁹ Parker (2005b), 400–1; Parker (2011), 90–1. ⁶⁰ e.g. Hom. Il. 15.741, 16.39, 17.645; Soph. El. 1354; Eur. HF, 531–2, Med. 482; Fraenkel (1962), vol. 2, 266, and other bibliography in Graf (1985), 232 with n. 121. See also Ellinger (2009), 29, on the metaphor of light associated with Artemis’ torches. ⁶¹ IG XI.4 1276 (third century , Delos); IG XII.3 1328 (second century , Thera); Gow–Page, HE, Diotimus I = Anth. Pal. 6.267. ⁶² I owe this observation to Graf (1992), 274–5. Artemis Soteira/Phosphoros with two torches is attested in e.g. Megara, Pagae, Byzantium (discussed above), Delos (I.Délos 2379), and possibly Odessus (IGBulg I² 88 bis, with addendum in IGBulg V 5034: Artemis or Hecate?). Note that even without the epithet Soteira or Phosphoros, Artemis may be represented as holding a torch in each hand: e.g. Paus. 8.37.1 (Artemis Hegemone in Lykosoura); Merkelbach and Stauber (1996), no. 11 (statue in an Anatolian town); I.Délos 1417.B.II.57–8, 67–8 (Delos), with Bruneau (1970), 187–8; Paus. 9.19.6 (Aulis), with commentaries. On other images of Artemis bearing two torches, see LIMC II.1 s.v. Artemis, nos. 417–20, 445–9, 506–7, 510–11. Light-bearing divine images are discussed in Parisinou (2000), 81ff.

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tells how, when a child came from Bosporus to seek a cure, he encountered Asclepius shining in gold armour; the god was on his way to save the Spartans ‘from grievous doom’, namely, the invasion by Philip of Macedon.⁶³ After Asclepius had saved them, the Spartans called upon everyone to receive the god with xenia and proclaimed him as their Soter (lines 77: σωτῆρα εὐρυχόρου Λακεδαίμονος ἀγκαλέοντες).⁶⁴ Asclepius’ involvement is curious, since he was neither a prominent god in Spartan religion, nor was he a warrior or fighter. Instead, his relation to armies normally lies in protecting soldiers’ physical wellbeing and providing cures. As Platt suggests, Isyllos was adapting existing discourses of divine epiphanies to promote political alliances at Epidaurus and across the Peloponnese when mainland Greece was at risk.⁶⁵ If divine epiphany was a familiar motif by Isyllos’ time (third century ), what is notable and novel in his text, however, is the military role ascribed to Asclepius. The divine healer here turned, unusually, into a god of the battlefield, and the Spartans seem to have transposed to him a cult epithet familiar from the military sphere. The subject of the paean is represented in a marble relief now in the Epidaurus Museum, depicting Asclepius borrowing weapons from Athena (Fig. 1).⁶⁶ By taking up Athena’s shield and helmet, and by carrying the epithet Soter, it is as if Asclepius is reshaped or transformed into a different god of a distinctive identity. Similar tales of divine rescue must have been common in the local histories and imagination of the Greeks. An interesting development in the Hellenistic period is the remarkable increase in reported epiphanies of gods saving their city, and the permanent recording of many of these for commemoration and public display. One notable instance comes from the Greek colony of Chersonesus in the Black Sea. There Syriskos son of Herakleidas was praised for ‘having diligently written up and read aloud the epiphanies of the Parthenos’.⁶⁷ Parthenos was a prominent goddess in the Crimea, and was usually identified by the Greeks with Artemis.⁶⁸ The goddess appears to have performed a series of saving deeds for the city; Syriskos not only wrote them down but read them out probably in public performances, perhaps to renew collective memory of the city’s deliverance and

⁶³ Philip II in 338  or Philip III in 317–316 . Whether the child from Bosporos was Isyllos or someone else has been disputed: see recent discussion in Herrero de Jáuregui and Goldhill (2019). ⁶⁴ IG IV².1 128.57–78, translation in Edelstein and Edelstein (1945), vol. 1, T 295; commentary in Kolde (2003), 12–15, 175–222, and more concisely Kolde (2005), esp. 550–1. Words related to ‘saving’ recur in the poem: βοαθόος (line 60), ἐρύκω (line 69), σωτηρία (line 75), σαόω (line 75), σωτήρ (line 77). ⁶⁵ Platt (2015), 498–9. ⁶⁶ Epidaurus Museum inv. no. 28. ⁶⁷ IOSPE I² 344 = IOSPE³ III 1 (c.250–200 ), lines 2–4: [ἐπειδὴ] Συρίσκος Ἡρακλείδα τὰ[ς] [ἐπιϕαν]είας τᾶς Παρ̣θένου ϕιλ[οπόνως συγ]γράψας ἀν[έ]γνω. ⁶⁸ Instead of associating her with Artemis or Iphigenia (e.g. Hdt. 4.103) as often thought, Braund (2007), 195–6, suggests an association between Parthenos and the nymphs at Chersonesus. On the complex identity of Parthenos at the Crimean Chersonesus, see now Braund (2018), ch. 1, esp. 51–5.

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Fig. 1 Marble relief in Epidaurus, depicting Asclepius borrowing weapons from Athena (Epidaurus Archaeological Museum inv. 28, Ephorate of Antiquities of Argolida).

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its protectress’s power. One of these epiphanies of Parthenos is mentioned in a contemporary decree sometimes associated with the invasion of the Sarmatians in the third century. It tells how the demos, ‘because of her (the goddess Parthenos), was saved [from great dan]gers’ (σωθεὶς δι᾽ α̣ὐτὰν [ἐκ τῶν μεγίστων κινδύν]ων).⁶⁹ The preserved portions of the fragmentary decree do not reveal how the goddess intervened, but the words barbaroi and [ele]uthera[-] (lines 14, 16) suggest that she must have delivered the city from a major external threat. A century later, when the city was beset by the forces of the Scythian king Palakos, the goddess is said to have been present (συμπαροῦσα) with Mithridates Eupator’s general Diophantos, and to have emboldened the army and warded off the danger with divine signs. The decree honouring Diophantos, while not calling the goddess Soteira, describes Parthenos as ‘always protecting the Chersonesitans’ (ἁ διὰ παντὸς Χερσονασιτᾶν προστατοῦσα Παρθένος).⁷⁰ The present participle προστατοῦσα (from προστατέω) and the phrase διὰ παντὸς reinforce the sense of continued defence and safety enjoyed by the people: it is as if the goddess’s protection was never ceasing. The decree further mentions the festival of Partheneia, during which the honours for the general would be publicly proclaimed. One wonders whether on this occasion the recorded epiphanies of the goddess would also be read out, as they might have been by Syriskos a century earlier. These are but two among other interventions performed by the goddess to save her city from military crises. The painstaking recording of the goddess’s manifestations, their public oral performance at Chersonesus, and the official honours recognizing Syriskos’ work all demonstrate the city’s desire to publicize the saving power of its principal goddess and her special favour for the demos. Hellenistic Asia Minor provides us with further reports of epiphanies of gods saving their cities.⁷¹ Stratoniceia in Caria experienced a series of divine manifestations performed by two important gods in its territory, Hecate at Lagina to the north and Zeus of Panamara to the south; both of these cults came under the control of Stratoniceia.⁷² A Hellenistic decree from Lagina mentions how the demos, on account of its piety, ‘was saved (διεσώθη) from dangers and from critical times surrounding it, and became free and autonomous and was in possession of the greatest good things, for Hecate stands by it in

⁶⁹ IOSPE I² 343 = IOSPE³ III 51 (c.250–200 ), quotation at lines 9–10. Association with the Sarmatians: Rostovtzeff (1919), 205, followed by Vinogradov (1997), and Vinogradov, Marchenko, and Rogov (1997), 93–103. ⁷⁰ IOSPE I² 352 = IOSPE³ III 8, lines 23–4 (c.110 ). ⁷¹ See also e.g. Artemis Kindyas in Bargylia, who preserved the city’s ancestral autonomia probably in the war against Aristonikos in 133–129  (I.Iasos, no. 613, with a new lex sacra in Blümel (1995), no. 1; Blümel (1997), 153–5; Blümel (2000)); Zeus Osogo in Malysa (I.Malysa, no. 306), who is said to be the city’s ‘saviour and benefactor’ (σωτὴρ καὶ εὐεργὲτης τῆς πόλεως) and to have performed ‘many great vivid manifestations’ (πολλαὶ καὶ μεγάλαι ἐπιϕανεῖς [ἐνεργεῖαι]). ⁷² The cult of Hecate in Lagina is discussed in Laumonier (1958), 344–425 (354–5, 359–60 on the inscriptions discussed here); Kraus (1960), 41ff.

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all these (dangers)’.⁷³ The last phrase ἡ Ἑκάτη ἐν πᾶσι τούτοις συνπαρισταμένη αὐτῶι is comparable to the description of Parthenos as ‘always protecting the Chersonesitans’ (ἁ διὰ παντὸς Χερσονασιτᾶν προστατοῦσα Παρθένος) in the decree from Chersonesus.⁷⁴ Unfortunately the date and historical context of this decree are uncertain; we can only speculate whether it concerns the conflict with Mithridates (88–85 ) or some other military crisis.⁷⁵ Hecate’s saving intervention in the Mithridatic war is alluded to in a decree of the Roman senate. In 81 , in recognition of Stratoniceia’s loyalty to Rome during this war, Sulla granted a number of privileges to the city: the asylia of Hecate’s temple was recognized, and her games were reorganized into a penteteric Panhellenic festival called the Hecatesia, which was now combined with the Romaia.⁷⁶ Jointly honoured with Roma Thea Euergetes, Hecate appears in this decree under the double epithets Soteira Epiphanes (‘Saviouress Manifest’); the goddess might have been newly granted the title of Soteira on this occasion to commemorate her deliverance and manifestations during the war. Hecate also appears under the epithet Soteira, in one instance alongside Epiphanes, in several dedicatory inscriptions (mostly private) in Lagina, but none of them alludes to any ‘saving’ deeds by the goddess, and most of them are undated (and therefore we cannot ascertain whether or not the epithet was already in use before the Roman grant of 81 ).⁷⁷ Although the earliest occurrence of Hecate’s epithet Soteira in Lagina cannot be established confidently, what these dedications do show is the widespread adoption of this title for the goddess by the local people. If Hecate indeed acquired her epithet in recognition of her role in the Mithridatic wars (as is likely), the epithet’s original, specific reference to her saving intervention appears to have become much weakened in subsequent uses of the epithet in other contexts, and ‘Hecate Soteira’ might have at some point become a fixed expression referring to Lagina’s poliadic divinity. A few decades later, during the Parthian invasion under Labienus Parthicus in 40 , it was the other god in the region, Zeus Panamaros (also variously spelt Panamarios or Panemerios), who ‘[performed many vivid manifestation]s for the deliverance of the city’ (line 3: [μεγάλας ἐπιϕανεῖς ἐνήργησεν ἐνεργεία]ς εἰς τὴν πόλεως σωτηρίαν) and saved the sanctuary from dangers.⁷⁸ The remarkable inscription, heavily restored unfortunately, details the epiphanies of this divine protector during the nocturnal invasion of the enemy: through his thunderbolts, a ⁷³ I.Stratonikeia, no. 512; republished in van Bremen (2010), 496–502, lines 7–11. Also discussed in Robert (1937), 461–2, with n. 5 (on its date). ⁷⁴ IOSPE I² 352 = IOSPE³ III 8, lines 23–4. ⁷⁵ Van Bremen (2010), 501–2, leaves open two possibilities: the war against Aristonikos (133–129 ) or the conflict with Mithridates (88–85 ). ⁷⁶ I.Stratonikeia, nos. 505, 507 = OGIS 441.1–129, 441.130–42. On the festival and asylia, see Rigsby (1996), 418–23. ⁷⁷ Dedicatory inscriptions: I.Stratonikeia, nos. 217, 300, 330, 510, 516, 1108. ⁷⁸ I.Stratonikeia, no. 10, with Roussel (1931); Pritchett (1971–91), vol. 3, 6–7; Graf (2004), 118–19; Belayche (2009) (on the political significance of Zeus’ epithet Panamaros); Petridou (2015), 99–100, 139–41.

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dense fog, a storm accompanied by thunder and lightning, and the howling of dogs, the god repelled the invading force and miraculously all the Stratoniceans were saved (πάντες ἐσώθησαν). As in the case of Hecate, Zeus was thanked by the expansion of his cult and the recognition of its inviolability (asylia). His festival, the Panamareia, is most likely to have been established or expanded in the aftermath of this crisis.⁷⁹ Yet the Parthian invasion was only one occasion among many on which the god protected the city. A later inscription in Roman times states that ‘Zeus of Panamara, greatest and most manifest, protects the city for all time’ (ὁ μέγιστος καὶ ἐπιϕανέστατος Ζεὺς Πανάμαρος σώζει τὴν πό[λιν διὰ παντὸς χρόνου]).⁸⁰ It is in the light of these frequent divine interventions that we can understand the Stratoniceians’ proud statement, in another inscription, that ‘the city has, from the start, been preserved from many great and continual dangers [with the providence] of its greatest presiding gods [Zeus P]anemar[ios and H]ecate’ (lines 1–3: τὴν πόλιν ἄνωθεν τῇ τῶν προεστώτων αὐτῆς μεγίστων θεῶν [προνοίᾳ, Διὸς Π]ανημε[ρίου καὶ Ἑ]κάτης ἐκ πολ]λῶν καὶ μεγάλων καὶ συνεχῶν κινδύνων σεσῶσθαι).⁸¹ The phrase προεστῶτες τῆς πόλεως θεοί, in the perfect participle form, evokes the image of Zeus and Hecate standing before the city and putting it under their divine protection. The various phrases we have seen, προεστώς/προεστῶσα τῆς πόλεως, προκαθήμενος/προκαθήμενα τῆς πόλεως, and συνπαριστάμενος/συνπαρισταμένη τῇ πόλει are but different expressions carrying similar ideas of divine presence and assistance for the polis. Though coming from different places and contexts, the inscriptions above record the saving experiences of these Hellenistic cities in remarkably similar language: all of them record the epiphany (ἐνάργεια, ἐπιϕάνεια) of their chief divinities when in great dangers (κίνδυνοι), all emphasize their gods’ continued presence and protection for all time (διὰ παντός, διὰ παντὸς χρόνου),⁸² all celebrate their deliverance (σωθείς, διασωθείς, σωτηρία) from crises and their recovery of eleutheria and autonomia. As in the expulsion of the Gauls from Delphi, in some of these cases the divinity’s manifestation and intervention provided the impetus for raising the prestige of the cult in question, whether by instituting a commemorative festival or expanding an existing one. Some of these gods, such as Hecate, might have acquired the epithet Soter/Soteira along with other honours in thanks and recognition of their intervention. For gods not so called, such as Zeus Panamaros, the use of the toponymic emphasizes the god’s special link with the locality concerned; yet the lack of the epithet Soter by no means diminishes the saving power of the divine protector. ⁷⁹ Rigsby (1996), 423–7, considers it likely that Zeus’ cult was granted asylia in 39  following the precedent of Hecate’s in 81 . ⁸⁰ I.Stratonikeia, no. 15.3–4. ⁸¹ I.Stratonikeia, no. 1101 = LSAM 69; Robert (1937), 516–23; Rigsby (1996), 418ff. ⁸² Cf. Tit.Cal. (in ASAA n.s. 6–7), no. 69, where the Kalymnians spoke of Zeus as their ‘perpetual saviour’ (τὸ διηνεκὴς Σωτήρ).

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2.3.2 Liberation from Tyranny What we have seen thus far concerns the deliverance of communities from external threats. Yet Soter and soteria could also be used in connection to liberation from the internal threat of tyranny, and in one instance the occasion was celebrated with a festival called the Soteria.⁸³ Following the defeat of Antigonus and Demetrius at Ipsus in 301 , an otherwise little-known tyrant called Hieron seized power in Priene and ruled for three years before he was expelled by the people.⁸⁴ The event is commemorated in an inscription of the early third century, which refers repeatedly to the Prienians’ struggle for freedom and autonomy.⁸⁵ The demos had fought ‘for the soteria of all the citizens’ (ὑπὲρ τῆς σωτηρ̣[ίας ἁπάντων τῶν πολιτ]ῶν), driven out the tyrant and his army, and recovered their autonomy and ancestral constitution. In order to preserve the memory of this struggle and to demonstrate their piety ‘towards ‘the gods who had saved us’ (πρὸς τοὺς θεοὺς τοὺς σώισαντ[ας ἡμᾶς]), there was to be an annual festival called Soteria on the day the city regained its autonomy, during which its citizens would wear crowns and perform sacrifices in private and in public. The θεοὶ σώισαντες presumably refer collectively to the gods who had helped the city and whose pronoia is mentioned earlier (line 11). Particularly important are Zeus S[oter] and [Athena] Nike in whose honour the festival was held (lines 28–9) and who were singled out for special mention.⁸⁶ Yet the Prienians took care not to neglect other divinities by sacrificing also to ‘all the gods and heroes who inhabited the polis and hinterland of Priene’ (lines 31–2). ‘Saving gods’ again feature in the recovery of the freedom of Sicyon in the Peloponnese. After the city had changed from the rule of one tyrant to another,⁸⁷ in 251 , Aratus son of Cleinias returned to Sicyon, liberated the city from the tyranny of Nicocles with a coup, brought Sicyon into the Achaean League, and recalled exiles to the city. Upon their return to Sicyon, the exiles set up a bronze statue of Aratus to the gods.⁸⁸ The verse inscription, recorded by Plutarch, interestingly refers to both Aratus and the recipient gods as ‘saviour’; the exiles erected the statue of their soter (Aratus) to the theoi soteres in return for his arete and justice. They honoured both as ‘saviours’ since they owed their safe return to

⁸³ On Greek tyranny, see e.g. Andrewes (1956); Berve (1967); McGlew (1993), esp. ch. 4; De Libero (1996); Lewis (2009); Teegarden (2014). ⁸⁴ On Hieron, see Paus. 7.2.10; Otto (1913) in RE VIII, 1513–15, s.v. Hieron, no. 17; Berve (1967), 423, 720; Habicht (1985), 84. ⁸⁵ I.Priene 11 = I.Priene IK 6 (298 ). The supplements are different in the two editions: here I follow those in I.Priene IK 6. ⁸⁶ Contra Graf (2010b), 78: the Prienian festival Soteria was ‘named not after any saviour god but after the rescue from tyranny; the sacrifice and prayers address all the gods who helped their city’. ⁸⁷ Plut. Arat. 2.1. ⁸⁸ Plut. Arat. 14.3: εἰκόνα . . . στάσαμεν ἀντ᾽ ἀρετᾶς ἠδὲ δικαιοσύνας σωτηρος σωτῆρσι θεοῖς.

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human as much as divine agency. The theoi soteres here refer to all the gods overseeing the protection of themselves and the city, including Zeus Soter (see below) and other divinities.⁸⁹ Even though he was described as a ‘saviour’ in the dedicatory inscription, Aratus did not receive cultic worship in his lifetime; the honorific statue of Aratus was an offering intended to the ‘saviour’ gods rather than an object of cult in itself. However, when he died in 213 , the people of Sicyon were instructed by the Delphic oracle to pay Aratus funeral rites and offerings termed ζωάγριον (from ζωγρεῖν or ζωόν ἀγρεῖν, ‘to take alive’), meaning a ‘thank-offering for saving their lives’. Accordingly they brought his body back into the city, buried him inside the city walls as its ‘founder’ and ‘saviour’ (ὥσπερ οἰκιστὴν καὶ σωτῆρα τῆς πόλεως ἐκήδευσαν), and instituted yearly sacrifices to him. The posthumous honours for Aratus are strikingly similar to those for Brasidas at Amphipolis in 422 as discussed in Chapter 1. Although the threat confronting the city was different, both Brasidas and Aratus were honoured posthumously as ‘saviour’ in the sense of a ‘liberator’. Both were given a public funeral in the city, regarded as the city’s ‘founder’ (οἰκιστής) and ‘saviour’ (σωτῆρ), and honoured with annual sacrifices as to a hero.⁹⁰ One of the sacrifices to Aratus was termed σωτήρια: it corresponded to the ζωάγριον prescribed in the Delphic oracle, and was to be performed by the priest of Zeus Soter on the day he freed the city from tyranny.⁹¹ The cult of Zeus Soter is not otherwise known in Sicyon, and might have been established in connection to the city’s recovery of freedom. The juxtaposition between human and divine ‘saviours’ in the liberation of Sicyon reminds us that the word Soter is by no means a preserve of the gods, and that human agency could also bring about soteria in some of the very same situations where divine saviours were at work. We shall come across many other human beings formally honoured with cult and the cult title Soter in Chapter 5.

2.3.3 Natural Phenomena 2.3.3.1 Plague Plague was probably the most disastrous of natural catastrophes in Greek antiquity, and one which meant that, above all, the soteria of the entire community was at stake. Despite the abundance of evidence on plague, it is surprisingly difficult to find ‘saviour’ gods in this context, when we might expect Apollo Soter and Artemis Soteira to be at work.

⁸⁹ Contra Ma (2014), 120, who thinks that theoi soteres can mean ‘the gods in general’. ⁹⁰ Thuc. 5.11.1, discussed in Chapter 1. ⁹¹ Plut. Arat. 53; see also Polyb. 8.12.7–8; Paus. 2.9.4; Griffin (1982), 79–81. On intramural burials, see Parker (1983); Malkin (1987), 200–4 (on oikists), 233–7 (on Aratus).

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The near absence of gods called ‘saviour’ in such a context is partly explained by the diversity of other epithets relating to the cure of plague. Pausanias tells us that Apollo received the epithets Alexikakos (‘Averter of Evil’) and Epikourios (‘Helper’) from the Athenians and the Phigaleians respectively for warding off the great plague in the fifth century, and that both epithets signified something similar.⁹² Pan Lyterios (‘Releaser’) is said to have been worshipped in Troezen for a similar reason, whereas the inhabitants of Cyrene were instructed to sacrifice to Apollo Apotropaios (‘Averter’) should the city be attacked by nosos or loimos.⁹³ We do not meet Apollo Soter as a healer of plague until the second century : in Caesarea Troketta in Lydia a statue of Apollo Soter was set up when the town was struck by plague. But the original oracle from Clarus, preserved on the same statue base, only specified a statue of Phoebus (without epithet) holding a bow, presumably in the act of shooting arrows. If Apollo could send plague suddenly by shooting arrows, he could also shoot it away.⁹⁴ Similar instructions, for a statue of Apollo with the same attribute, were given to at least two other communities affected probably by the same outbreak of plague.⁹⁵ The rarity of Apollo Soter in relation to pestilence, and yet the large number of sources mentioning Apollo without any epithet in a similar context, suggest that the epithet was not necessary for Apollo to exercise this function: he was the chief averter of plague in antiquity. In an oracular response to another plague-stricken Anatolian town, however, it was the statue of Apollo’s sister that was brought in:⁹⁶ Artemis was represented as holding two torches—her burning torches are comparable to Apollo’s bow and arrows. It is under these very attributes that Apollo and Artemis were invoked in Sophocles’ play when Thebes was ravaged by plague: ‘I would gladly celebrate the invincible shafts coming from your golden bowstring as you stand by me bringing aid, and the fiery torches of Artemis’.⁹⁷ Artemis’ two torches remind us of the torch-holding images of Artemis Soteira in Megara and Pagae seen earlier, and of their possible metaphorical values of ‘light’ and ‘saving’.

⁹² Paus. 1.3.4, 8.41.8–9. At 6.24.6, Pausanias further considers Apollo’s epithet Akesios (‘Healing’) in Elis analogous to Alexikakos in Athens. However, the meaning of Apollo’s title Epikourios at Bassae is disputed: see detailed discussion in Jost (1985), 485–9; Cooper (1992–6), vol. 1, 75–9 (who argues for its martial meaning and its derivation from ἐπίκουρος, in the sense of ‘mercenary troops’); Parker (2003), 178 with n. 43. ⁹³ Paus. 2.32.6; LSS 115 A 4–7 (late fourth century ). ⁹⁴ See Hom. Il. 1.46–52: Apollo sends plague upon the Achaean army by shooting arrows. ⁹⁵ The oracular responses are collected in Merkelbach and Stauber (1996). A statue of Apollo is prescribed in relation to plague in no. 4, lines 18–20 (Hierapolis), no. 8 B, lines 27–8 (Caesarea Troketta), no. 9, lines 29–30 (Callipolis on the Thracian Chersonesus). Discussions of these oracular responses: Parke (1985), 150–7; Várhelyi (2001), 13–31; Busine (2005), 89–94. ⁹⁶ Merkelbach and Stauber (1996), no. 11; discussed in Graf (1992). Why Artemis instead of Apollo was called upon is well explained in Graf (2007), 114–15: in this case the plague was caused by a sorcerer who had buried wax figurines, which had to be melted with Artemis’ burning torches. ⁹⁷ Soph. OT 203–7 (tr. Loeb). See also Soph. OT 150, where Phoebus is invokes as ‘saviour’ and one who can end the pestilence (σωτηρ θ᾽ ἵκοιτο καὶ νόσου παυστήριος). Faraone (1992), 57–64, discusses Apollo and Artemis as ‘bow-bearing plague gods’.

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2.3.3.2 Water shortage Divine deliverance is also recorded when Greek communities suffered from water shortage, but the gods concerned are not necessarily called ‘saviour’. One of these instances supposedly gave rise to the cult of Zeus Hellanios at the summit of the Mt Oros on Aegina. Traditions have it that when the Greeks were afflicted by a drought, the poleis sent envoys to the Delphic oracle for remedy, and were told to ask Aeacus—son of Zeus and ancestral hero of Aegina—to propitiate Zeus on their behalf. After Zeus had sent rain and they were saved (σωθέντες), the Greeks established a sanctuary on Aegina on the very spot where Aeacus made his prayer. It was ‘because of the salvation of Hellas’ (διὰ τὴν τῆς Ἑλλάδος σωτηρίαν) that Zeus was honoured as Hellanios by the Aeginetans.⁹⁸ Instead of Soter, he was called Hellanios (or Panhellenios in some sources) presumably because the crisis concerned all the Greeks and this cult had a Panhellenic relevance. Zeus was again at work, this time through the agency of his daughter, when the Greeks were afflicted with a similar problem during the Persian Wars. The Lindian Chronicle records how, when the Lindians were besieged by Darius’ forces in c.490  and ran out of water, their main goddess Athena sent a dream vision and promised to ask her father for help (περὶ βοαθείας). On the following day a sudden rainstorm gave the Lindians abundant water but left the opposing camp in need; astounded by the goddess’s manifestation, the Persian forces broke up the siege.⁹⁹ The miraculous storm is not reported in Herodotus, but recorded several centuries after the purported event, at a time when it became almost fashionable for Hellenistic cities to claim divine favour and protection for their own city. Much later, when the Goths attacked the Ionian cities and besieged the sanctuary of Apollo in Didyma in  262/3, the defenders of the shrine ran out of water and were threatened with either surrender or death from thirst. In the critical situation a spring miraculously began to flow and saved them. Apollo’s miracle is recounted in various epigrams inscribed in the adyton of his shrine. Even though Apollo is not called Soter in this context, his deliverance of the

⁹⁸ Isoc. 9.14–15 (σωθέντες); Schol. Pind. Nem. 5.17b (διὰ τὴν τῆς Ἑλλάδος σωτηρίαν) (the scholion notes that some say it was a flood, not a drought); Schol. Ar. Eq. 1253 a–b; Diod. Sic. 4.61.1–3; Paus. 2.29.7–8; Strabo 8.6.16, 375. The sources are conveniently collected in Polinskaya (2013), 630–4, with discussion at 319–44. Hellanios is the Doric Aeginetan form of the epithet, whereas the Ionic form is Hellenios. ⁹⁹ Lindos II, no. 2.D.1–42, with commentary in Higbie (2003), 141ff. The terms Soter/Soteira, soteria, and sozein are not used, but only the related word βοήθεια in 2.D.23. For a similar motif, see Diod. Sic. 17.49: Alexander and his army, when traversing the Libyan desert to consult the oracle of Ammon, ran out of water and suffered from thirst. But a sudden rainstorm burst from the heavens and they were unexpectedly rescued by divine providence (ἔδοξεν ἀνελπίστως σωθεῖσι θεῶν προνοίᾳ γεγονέναι). The incident is mentioned also (but the word sozein is not used) in Plut. Alex. 27.1, Curt. 4.7.14, Arrian 3.3.4.

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townsmen is reiterated by the cognates sozein and diasozein in the epigrams.¹⁰⁰ Whereas in the last two episodes Zeus was invoked given his sovereignty over the sky and the weather, here Apollo intervened in his capacity as the protector of his sanctuary.

2.3.3.3 Weather and agriculture The episodes above illustrate the gods’ control over nature and their power to send or withhold rain at their will. Similar divine power appears to be alluded to in two altars in Miletus, one belonging to ‘Zeus Aitherios Soter and Apollo Didymeus’, and another to ‘Zeus Keraunios Soter’.¹⁰¹ We do not know what prompted their dedication, but the concern they betray seems to be with the weather: Zeus is worshipped as the lord of the sky (aitherios) with his thunderbolt (keraunios). Combining these attributes with Soter might have been an attempt to bring Zeus’ ambivalent and unpredictable power under control: the Milesians seem to be invoking Zeus to preserve them by providing sufficient rain for a good harvest, and not to lay waste the fields with violent thunderstorms. This is comparable to a communal dedication by members of a village in Mysia: the villagers dedicated a stele to Zeus Chalazios Sozon (‘Zeus of Hail who Saves’), and prayed to him first for a good harvest and protection of crops from harm, and then for the health and safety of the local inhabitants.¹⁰² The double epithets Chalazios Sozon juxtapose the protective power of Zeus and the harm from which protection was sought and/ or received. Agricultural prosperity must have been a pressing concern for most communities in Greek antiquity. Underlying these villagers’ prayer is a sense of helplessness and insecurity widely shared by agrarian societies, and the need to depend on the gods for favourable conditions. Nevertheless, when food shortage became a reality, it is much more common to find human benefactors rather than divine ‘saviours’ providing aid in such a context. Even though Greek gods like Zeus could control the weather, they could not work miracles by granting a sudden supply of food to communities on the brink of starvation.¹⁰³ Instead, particular individuals might preserve the city by providing grain, thereby bringing

¹⁰⁰ I.Didyma 159, I.5, II.1, III.4, 14; Robert (1948), 119–20; Fontenrose (1988), 23–4. Apollo of Didyma is frequently attested under the title of Soter (e.g. I.Didyma 75; I.Milet VI.1 279–81: Apollo Didymeus Soter), but in this particular instance he is not so called in the sources. ¹⁰¹ I.Milet VI.3 1248 (undated), 1257 (late Hellenistic or early imperial). Cf. IG XII.6 534 (Zeus Soter Keraunios); Tit.Cal. (in ASAA n.s. 6–7), no. 69, lines 9–10 (‘the perpetual saviour Zeu[s Patroos and Ke]raunios’). For I.Milet VI.3 1248, Robert (1971) 606–7 (626–7 in reprint), postulated that Zeus’ epithets and association with Apollo Didymeus were prescribed by an oracle from Didyma. ¹⁰² Hasluck (1904), 21–3, no. 4 (precise provenance unknown), with fig. 1: ‘for the fruitfulness and freedom from harm of their crops, and for the health and safety of their farmers and those assembling for the god and residents in the Thracian village’ (ὑπὲρ εὐκαρπίας καὶ ἀβλαβίας τῶν καρπῶν καὶ ὑπὲρ ὑγιείας καὶ σωτηρίας τῶν γεοκτειτῶν καὶ τῶν συνερχομένων ἐπὶ τὸν θεὸν καὶ κατοικούντων Θρακίαν κώμην). Discussed in Schuler (2012), 72, 76. ¹⁰³ But see Paus. 2.23.1 for a mythical instance: when the Argives who survived a shipwreck during their homeward journey back from Troy were suffering from cold and hunger (λιμός), they prayed that

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about its soteria in the sense of the physical sustenance and survival of its citizens. Since these individuals are not called soter, they will not be discussed here.¹⁰⁴

2.3.3.4 Earthquake The Mediterranean is notorious for being plagued by earthquakes even today; the physical and psychological threat this posed must have been even greater in antiquity.¹⁰⁵ In the late second century  the people of Miletus consulted Apollo’s oracle in Didyma, and were advised to propitiate Poseidon Asphale(i)os ‘to preserve the city’s order in stability, free from danger’ (lines 4–5: σώιζειν θ᾽ ὑμετέρης κόσμον πόλεως ἀσάλευτον ἐκτὸς κινδύνου).¹⁰⁶ The original consultation is not preserved, but Poseidon’s epithet Asphaleios (‘Securer’) points to the possibility of an earthquake. Might the Milesians have felt tremors in Miletus or its neighbouring areas, become concerned about earthquakes and/or floods of the Maeander,¹⁰⁷ and consulted Apollo for remedies and/or prevention? The oracle is recorded on an altar in Didyma (lines 1–7), and is followed by an epigram (lines 8–17) describing the ox-sacrifices to Poseidon performed by Andronikos son of Potamon, the tamias and epistates for the construction of Apollo’s temple. It is interesting that it refers to Poseidon under slightly different epithets from the one pronounced by the god: Asphale(i)os Soter Poseidon megistos. As we saw in Chapter 1, Poseidon Soter normally relates to safety (from dangers) at sea,¹⁰⁸ but here, with Asphaleios added to his titles, the god seems to oversee tremors of the earth and turbulence at sea at once. The distinction between the stability of the earth and safety at sea is perhaps not important in this context, as earthquakes might often lead to tsunamis, and it is therefore appropriate to invoke Poseidon under both titles to be protected from both threats. Poseidon is not the only god available for protection from earthquakes; very often the Greeks might appeal to Zeus Soter for the same concern. A similar combination of epithets, close to those for Poseidon just seen, is used of Zeus in Patara in Lycia. There we find an altar of ‘Theos Soter Hedraios Asphales, Poseidon Hedraios, and Helios Apollo’. The unnamed Theos Soter (‘Saving someone of the gods might become their ‘saviour’ in their distress, whereupon they found a cave of Dionysus in which wild she-goats had gathered. In historical time times, however, it is difficult to find ‘saviour’ gods relieving a community from famines. ¹⁰⁴ Various Hellenistic decrees honour human beings for preserving the city by providing grain, e.g. IG II/III³ 1, 863, 911, 985 (Athens); Hatzopoulos, Macedonian Institutions II, nos. 39 (Gazoros), 54 (Morrylos). ¹⁰⁵ On ancient earthquakes, see Robert (1978a), 398–408 (94–104 in reprint); Guidoboni (1994); Olshausen and Sonnabend (1998) (especially chapters by Chaniotis, Lafond, and Mylonopoulos); Sonnabend (1999); Mylonopoulos (2006), 123ff.; Graf (2010a) (further bibliography in n. 4); Thély (2016). ¹⁰⁶ I.Didyma 132; Fontenrose (1988), 190–1, R14; Oesterheld (2008), 232ff. ¹⁰⁷ Rehm in I.Didyma envisaged both possibilities, but Robert (1968), 576–7 (592–3 in reprint), thought that earthquake, not flooding, was meant. ¹⁰⁸ Poseidon Soter: Hymn. Hom. 22.5; Hdt. 7.192; IG II/III² 1300. See also Poseidon Sosineos in CIRB 30.

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God’) is here distinct from Poseidon Hedraios; he is in all probability Zeus, who appears as ‘Zeus Soter Hedraios’ in another altar from the same place. The concern with the stability of the earth is reiterated by the epithets Asphales (‘Safe’) and Hedraios (‘Steadfast’, ‘with a Firm Base’), which qualify the ‘saving’ function of Theos Soter.¹⁰⁹ These dedications are closely associated with safety from earthquakes, but we do not know if the original prayers were precautionary or reactionary, that is, to prevent an earthquake or to seek aid when tremors were already felt. Nor are we told who set up these two altars; yet the distinction between ‘public’ and ‘private’ dedications is less important in this context, as earthquakes could affect the soteria of a community as much as that of its individual members. Zeus Soter is again at work in some late instances of earthquakes recorded in literary sources. The Greek chronicler John Malalas records an earthquake in his home town Antioch in Syria in the reign of Trajan ( 115), after which the surviving Antiochenes built a temple in Daphne bearing the inscription ‘those who were saved erected (this) to Zeus Soter’ (οἱ σωθέντες ἀνέστησαν Διι Σωτῆρι).¹¹⁰ Aelius Aristides tells how, while he was living in Smyrna, a series of earthquakes struck the eastern Aegean and Asia Minor sometime after September  149; many villages were destroyed and Mytilene in particular was nearly all levelled. While the Ephesians and Smyrnaeans turned to Apollo’s oracle at Clarus in the midst of the terrors, Aristides sacrificed an ox in public to Zeus Soter in accordance with divine command. After this the earth ceased trembling, and he attributed this to the providence and power of the gods.¹¹¹ About a century later, according to the Historia Augusta, a terrible earthquake devastated not only the cities of Asia but also Rome. After consultation of the Sibylline Books sacrifices were made to Jupiter Salutaris—the Latin equivalent of the Greek Zeus Soter.¹¹² We shall continue to meet Zeus Soter in similar situations in the following chapter: Zeus was a much more popular ‘saviour’ than Poseidon when earthquakes occurred. Probably following a violent earthquake which affected the cities of the eastern Aegean in the reign of Antonius Pius, several thank-offerings (εὐχαριστήρια) were made on Cos ‘for the deliverance of the city’ (ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας τῆς πόλεως).¹¹³ We are not told explicitly what dangers the city had encountered, and the combination of gods invoked varied from one dedication to another, but their recurrent ¹⁰⁹ TAM II 403; cf. TAM II 404 (both are imperial period). Cf. I.Anazarbos, no. 49 (a private dedication), for another instance of Zeus Soter’s involvement, alongside Poseidon Asphaleios, in an earthquake. Thély (2016), 32–3, discusses Poseidon and the stability of the earth. ¹¹⁰ John Malalas, Chron. 11.8. ¹¹¹ Aristid. Or. 49.38–41 (Hieroi Logoi III) Keil, with Behr (1968), 74–6. On Salutaris and other Latin epithets, see Appendix IV. ¹¹² Historia Augusta 23.5. ¹¹³ IG XII.4 541–4 (early second century ), with Segre’s note in Iscr. Cos EV 199. Earthquake: Paus. 8.43.3.

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references to Zeus and Hera Olympioi, Zeus Hypsistos, and Hera Ourania all hint at the gods’ celestial aspect, whereas Poseidon Asphaleios in one instance points to a concern with the stability of the earth. One of them was addressed to ‘Zeus and Hera Olympioi and all the gods saving the city’ ([Διὶ κ]αὶ Ἥρᾳ Ὀλυμ[πίο]ις καὶ θεοῖς [πᾶσ]ι σώζουσι [τὰ]μ̣ πόλιν).¹¹⁴ ‘The gods saving the city’ are not restricted to gods attested under the epithets Soter and Soteira in Cos,¹¹⁵ but concern all the gods in the Coan pantheon who preserved the city. There were perhaps too many to be named individually, and perhaps the dedicator used this catch-all phrase to avoid neglecting any. It is also noteworthy that at least three out of the four dedications were made, rather unusually, by private individuals or groups within the polis: private dedications ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας τῆς πόλεως are difficult to find.¹¹⁶ Here members of the polis were expressly concerned with the well-being of their community, presumably after experiencing some crisis which threatened their collective survival and safety. It also shows that the dividing line between ‘saving the city’ and ‘saving individuals’ is not clear-cut, as some situations could impinge on the safety of both.

2.3.3.5 Flooding All these communities were fortunate enough to have attained soteria in one way or another. But as Diagoras the atheist astutely observed, there must have been many more cases of the gods not saving, which have nevertheless left few or no traces in our written records.¹¹⁷ A rare explicit complaint about this is expressed in a Hellenistic epigram, concerning the destruction of Ephesus by flooding in the early third century . After lamenting the present plight of the Ionian city, its author asks where the ‘Saving daimones’ (σαωτῆρες δαίμονες) had turned their eyes.¹¹⁸ As we have seen, it is not uncommon to address the gods as an anonymous group theoi soteres, but daimones soteres has no epigraphic or literary parallel. In Homer the word daimones is sometimes used interchangeably with theoi, the gods. It is unclear whether the author is using daimones in the epic sense of the gods (especially since this is a verse inscription), or whether there is an element of euphemism here, that is, he wants to avoid attributing the disaster to particular gods, and so speaks vaguely of daimones, the power responsible for human misfortune.¹¹⁹ What is unusual here is the combination of daimones and saviours: ¹¹⁴ IG XII.4 542. ¹¹⁵ These are Zeus Soter (IG XII.4 422–3), Athena Soteira (alongside Zeus Soter: IG XII.4 350, 358), Asclepius Soter (IG XII.4 1187), Isis Soteira (IG XII.4 554), Hekata Soteira (IG XII.4 564), and theoi soteres (IG XII.4 406.C.10). ¹¹⁶ These are more common in rural communities only in Asia Minor, but rare in mainland Greece: Schuler (2012), 80–1. ¹¹⁷ Diog. Laert. 6.59; Cic. Nat. D. 3.89. ¹¹⁸ Anth. Pal. 9.424 = Gow–Page, HE, Duris I. On daimones, see Mikalson (1983), 50, 59–60, 65–6; Geisser (2002), 7–80; Versnel (2011), 276–7 (with bibliography). ¹¹⁹ Cf. Aesch. Ag. 664, where the herald attributes the deliverance of his ship to Tyche Soter, when the rest of the Achaean fleet was destroyed.

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the Greeks normally referred to the gods as saviours after they were saved, whereas here Ephesus was destroyed. It is counterintuitive, and almost ironic, to speak of the ‘saving daimones’ in this context.

2.4 Soteria outside Situations of Crisis What we have seen so far are mostly critical situations where, confronted by some external or internal threat or natural disaster, a community needed soteria in the sense of ‘rescue’ and ‘deliverance’. However, soteria and saviour gods were relevant not only in situations of crisis; not all cults and festivals of ‘saviours’ arose out of emergencies. Greek communities also approached the gods with prayers, offerings, and festivals on a regular basis in the hope of maintaining their existing well-being.

2.4.1 Public Sacrifices ἐϕ᾽ ὑγιείαι καὶ σωτηρίαι Compared to the fully-fledged periodical festivals such as the Delphic Soteria seen earlier, sacrifices for the soteria of the polis were conducted much more frequently and on a much smaller scale, such as that performed by the priest in Cloudcuckooland in the scene which began this chapter.¹²⁰ It must have been a common practice, already in the fifth century  and possibly earlier, to sacrifice regularly to the gods for health and soteria of the polis. Innumerable decrees in the Greek world carry the prayer formula ὑπερ ὑγιείας καὶ σωτηρίας or ἐϕ᾽ ὑγιείαι καὶ σωτηρίαι; this was usually followed by the recipients of the blessings in the genitive case, such as τῆς βουλῆς καὶ τοῦ δήμου, τοῦ Ἀθηναίων, and sometimes other groups outside the polis (such as the Chians in Athenian sacrifice).¹²¹ A priest or magistrate might be entrusted with conducting the sacrifice ‘on behalf of ’ (hyper) the soteria of the polis, and the charis—here soteria—associated with the offering would be channelled to members of the civic community and sometimes other groups, even though they did not take part in it.¹²² In Classical Athens, where epigraphic evidence containing such references is most abundant, the responsibility of these officials thus entrusted with conducting these sacrifices and the outcome of the sacrificial rituals were taken very seriously by the demos. A wealth of Attic decrees from the second half of the fourth century ¹²⁰ Ar. Av. 878–80. ¹²¹ The Chians were added to the string of beneficiaries in Athenian prayers on account of their loyalty to Athens during the Peloponnesian War: Ar. Av. 878–80; Thuc. 6.31.2; Eupolis fr. 246 K.–A.; Thrasymachos fr. 3 DK; Theopompos FGrH 115 F 104. ¹²² On sacrifice by participation and sacrifice by proxy, see Parker (2005b), 66–7, 95–7; Naiden (2013), 186–96. On the meaning of hyper in prayer formulae, see Jim (2014a).

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 onwards attests to elaborate procedures in place to ensure their proper performance.¹²³ These decrees honour magistrates who sacrificed for the public good: officials who conducted sacrifices ‘for the health and soteria’ of the people would report the successful outcome to the boule, which would then resolve to ‘accept the good things (τὰ ἀγαθά) that had occurred in the sacrifices’ and to commend the officials concerned for their services.¹²⁴ A fourth-century example is this decree honouring the priest of Dionysus and the hieropoioi: ὅτι δοκεῖ τῆι βουλῆι τὰ μὲν ἀγαθὰ δέχεσθαι τὸν δῆμο[ν], ἃ ἀπαγγέλλουσι ὁ ἱερεὺς καὶ οἱ ἱεροποιοὶ γεγονέναι ἐν τοῖς ἱεροῖς οἷς ἔθυον τῶι Διονύ[σ]ωι καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις θεοῖς ἐϕ᾽ ὑγιείαι καὶ σωτηρίαι τῆς βουλῆς καὶ τοῦ δήμου το̃ Ἀθηναίων καὶ παίδων καὶ γυναικῶν καὶ τῶν ἄλλων κτημάτων τῶν Ἀθηναίων·¹²⁵ It seems good to the council that the demos should accept the good things, which the priest and the hieropoioi report to have occurred in the sacrifices which they made to Dionysus and to the other gods, for the health and soteria of the Athenian council and demos and of the children and women and other possessions of the Athenians.

Though curiously absent in fifth-century epigraphic records, the institution illustrated by this decree must have existed earlier, as Aristophanes’ Birds shows. The practice is alluded to when Peisetairos duly reports to the assembly of Birds that ‘the sacrifices are fair’ (τὰ ἱέρ᾽ ἡμῖν ἐστιν καλά).¹²⁶ When magistrates report the successful outcome of the sacrifices to the boule, τὰ ἱερά are usually said to be καλά (‘fair’) or καλὰ καὶ σωτήρια (literally ‘fair and providing safety’).¹²⁷ It is only fitting that sacrifices ‘for health and soteria’ are reported as καλὰ καὶ σωτήρια. Mikalson stresses that τὰ ἱερά are not the sacrifices or sacrificial rituals, but the entrails of the sacrificial victims which indicate favourable omens when examined; it was the good omens which promised that the accompanying prayer ‘for health and soteria’ of the polis was favourably received by the gods.¹²⁸ By accepting the ‘good things’ (τὰ ἀγαθά) resultant from the sacrifices, the demos transferred the divine favours thus secured to members of the polis as a whole.¹²⁹ The abundance of Attic decrees similar to the one just quoted demonstrates not only the great importance attached to these seemingly formulaic and mundane prayers but also the divine favours constantly bestowed on the Athenians. We can only wonder how the

¹²³ The earliest epigraphic attestations are IG II/III³ 1, 306, 359, 416. ¹²⁴ This institution is discussed in Rhodes (1972), 132; Parker (1996), 124, 247; Parker (2005b), 66–7, 95–6, 100; Mikalson (1998), 42–4, 132–4; and recently Mikalson (2016), ch. 4. ¹²⁵ IG II/III² 410 = IG II/III³ 1, 416, lines 11–16. ¹²⁶ Ar. Av. 1118; see also Theophr. Char. 21.11. ¹²⁷ e.g. IG II/III² 949–50, 974, 1000, 1039, 1042–3, 1054. ¹²⁸ Mikalson (2016), ch. 4. ¹²⁹ The practice of accepting the ‘good things’ secured by such sacrifices is attested also outside Athens: e.g. Rigsby, Asylia, nos. 28, 29, 128.8–12, 131.14–17.

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Athenians would have responded (as for instance by repeating the sacrifice) in cases where the omens turned out unfavourably, and the extent to which the ‘health and soteria’ of the polis was felt to be at risk. What, then, did ὑγίεια and σωτηρία entail for the polis in these regular sacrifices? Mikalson explains that ὑγίεια concerns not just disease and good health, but ‘things necessary for a healthy life’, whereas σωτηρία concerns not so much ‘the preservation or restoration of democracy’ but also ‘personal, physical safety and safety from the dangers of war that so threatened all Greek cities’.¹³⁰ As will become clear in this study, the concept of σωτηρία at times overlaps with ὑγίεια in the sense of physical health, and at other times it can take on different meanings depending on context. Many regular sacrifices and prayers for the polis were probably precautionary in nature, that is, they probably insured the polis against potential threats, and soteria had the general sense of ‘safety’, ‘well-being’, and ‘preservation’. In good times this may seem no more than a routine prayer and ritual, but when the polis was at risk, it could take on a very different significance. One interesting example comes from the height of the Chremonidean War: a decree shows that the eponymous archon sacrificed to Dionysus ‘for the health and salvation of the boule, the people of the Athenians, and the crops in the countryside’ (ἐϕ᾽ ὑγιείαι καὶ σωτη[ρίαι τῆς βο]υλῆς καὶ τοῦ δήμου τοῦ Ἀθηναίων κα[ὶ τῶν κ]αρπῶν τῶν ἐν τεῖ χώραι). If soteria in a normal year refers to the Athenians’ general well-being, in this context it refers to their preservation and deliverance from Macedonian domination. The unusual addition κα[ὶ τῶν κ]αρπῶν τῶν ἐν τεῖ χώραι reveals how pressing food supply was to the Athenians when the harvest from Attica was under threat, and the outcome of this sacrifice might have been at the centre of public attention.¹³¹ This is a rare epigraphic attestation of a public prayer for the preservation and well-being of crops from mainland Greece. In Attica the hope for ‘soteria of crops’ was normally subsumed within regular sacrifices ‘for health and soteria’ of the polis and therefore not usually readily visible; in this particular year, however, it is stated separately and explicitly when food shortage became a reality. Despite being an important and regular part of cultic practices in all ancient societies, prayers for agricultural prosperity are rarely attested epigraphically outside Asia Minor partly due to what Schuler calls ‘regional epigraphic habit’.¹³² However, similar prayers and sacrifices for the soteria of the community and its crops are likely to have been made in a great number of festivals conducted by poleis all over the Greek world. To mention just one example, from Magnesia on the Maeander, an annual festival celebrated from the early second century  onwards honoured Zeus Sosipolis (‘Saviour of the City’) with a procession and the

¹³⁰ Mikalson (1998), 295–6; Mikalson (2016), 89. ¹³¹ IG II/III² 668 = IG II/III³ 1, 920 (266/5 ?), lines 8–10; discussed in Oliver (2007), 131, 212. ¹³² Schuler (2012).

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sacrifice of a most beautiful bull when sowing began. On this occasion chosen representatives of the city would pray ‘for the safety (soteria) of the city and the country’ and their constituent groups, and ‘for peace, prosperity, bearing of grain, and all the other fruits and livestock’.¹³³ Zeus Sosipolis is here entrusted with the well-being of crops, livestock, farmers, and the local inhabitants at large. The Magnesians’ concern for agriculture is representative of that of the rest of the Greek world; many more civic festivals in other communities must have contained prayers for soteria of members of the polis in the sense of their general well-being, agricultural prosperity, and material security, even though they were rarely recorded explicitly on stone.¹³⁴

2.4.2 Cults of ‘Saviours’ Not Related to Crises Earlier in this chapter we have seen how a god might acquire the title Soter/Soteira after delivering a community from a particular crisis. However, we need not assume that a major ‘saving’ event must lie behind the foundation of every cult and festival of a ‘saviour’ god. This seems to be the case with the cult of Kore Soteira in Cyzicus. Traditions had it that Kore was given the city as her dowry upon her marriage to Hades, and there she was honoured above all the gods.¹³⁵ Fourth-century silver coins of the city bear the image of her head and the word Soteira, which suggests that the cult of Kore Soteira was popular from at least the fourth century  onwards.¹³⁶ According to one inscription, the Cyzicenes were the first (πρᾶτ[οι]) to celebrate a festival in her honour called Soteria. The origin of its establishment cannot be established, but this local festival was augmented to a Panhellenic and penteteric event in the late third or early second century  on the advice of the Delphic oracle.¹³⁷ This involved a similar process to what we saw in the expanded Soteria at Delphi: envoys were sent out to seek recognition and invite participation from other cities.¹³⁸ Originally called Soteria, derived without doubt from Kore’s epithet Soteira, the festival came to be variously named in later times after the goddess’s divine name Kore or Persephone: the Koreia, the

¹³³ LSAM 32 = CGRN, no. 141 (197/6 or 180s ), esp. lines 26–31, with discussion in Nilsson (1906), 23–7. ¹³⁴ See also GIBM, no. 975 (180–145 ): a festival in Amathus on Cyprus involved sacrifices to Aphrodite ‘for the well-being of the people of Amathus and of the crops’ (lines 5–7: ὑπὲ[ρ τῆς σω]τηρίας τοῦ Ἀμαθουσίω[ν δήμου] καὶ τῶν καρ̣πῶν). ¹³⁵ App. Mith. 75. On Kore in Cyzicus, see Hasluck (1910), 210–13. ¹³⁶ Coins: BMC Mysia, 36, nos. 124–33; SNG Copenhagen, Mysia, nos. 53–6, 58–62; SNG von Aulock, Mysien, nos. 1217–26; Sandstrom (1993), vol. 1, 243–7. ¹³⁷ Rigsby, Asylia, no. 165. ¹³⁸ Rigsby, Asylia, nos. 167–70, with Nilsson (1906), 359–60; the detailed study of Robert (1978a), 460–77 (156–73 in reprint); Habicht (2005), 95–6; Habicht (2010).

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Phersephassia (or Phersephattia), and ἱερὸν Κόρης Ἰσοπύθιον (‘the sacred isopythian contest of Kore’) apparently all refer to the same event.¹³⁹ These alternative names might have been intended to avoid ambiguity and confusion with other Soteria festivals in the Greek world; but they might also reflect a weakened awareness of Kore’s ‘saving’ power over time. The Mysteries of Kore Soteira are attested in the imperial period, but both the nature of the mystery cult and the benefits of initiation remain largely unclear.¹⁴⁰ How Kore became Soteira in Cyzicus unfortunately cannot be traced. But neither her epithet Soteira nor her festival Soteria seems to have been occasioned by a specific saving intervention, or at least there is no evidence to suggest that this was so. The only recorded saving intervention of Kore Soteira to my knowledge is rather late, when the city was besieged both by land and sea by Mithridates VI in 73 . Plutarch tells how, when the Cyzicenes were celebrating the Phersephassia but lacked a black heifer for sacrifice because of Mithridates’ siege, the goddess caused the sacred heifer reared on the opposite mainland to swim over to the city and to present itself for sacrifice. This was but one of the manifest signs (σημεία ἐναργῆ) sent by Kore Soteira to encourage her people. Again the goddess appeared in the dream of the grammateus Aristagoras to promise help (speaking in ambiguous language) and to cheer the people on. On the following day a violent wind miraculously smashed the siege engines of the king. Kore was not prominent or popular as a ‘Saviouress’ in other parts of the Greek world, but in Cyzicus owed her local prominence to her poliadic status. As the principal goddess of the city, she is likely to have exercised much broader ‘saving’ functions than military protection. Her epithet Soteira at Cyzicus is almost synonymous to Poliouchos and Polias for Athena at Athens discussed towards the beginning of this chapter. Kore provides us with a possible case of the existence of a major cult of a ‘saviour’ without reference to any particular saving event. We therefore need not assume that some terrible crisis must lie behind the establishment of every cult of ‘saviours’ and Soteria festival.¹⁴¹ ¹³⁹ Koreia: Posidonius, FGrH 87 F 28 = Strabo 2.3.4, 98. Phersephassia: Plut. Luc. 10. ἱερὸν Κόρης Ἰσοπύθιον: AEM 8 (1884), 219–20, no. 49 (a list of victors). Dittenburger in Syll.² 791, and Nilsson (1906), 359–60, treated the different names as referring to the same festival; but Ziehen (1938), RE XIX, s.v. Pherephattia, 2035–7, thought they might refer to different festivals in honour of Kore. Robert (1929), 129 (1095 in reprint) n. 3, Robert (1978a), 466–70 (162–6 in reprint), left the issue inconclusive. On the meaning of ‘isopythian’ contests, which imitated the traditional Panhellenic games, see Parker (2004a). ¹⁴⁰ Initiates of her Mysteries are mentioned in many inscriptions of imperial date: e.g. Barth and Stauber (1996), IMT, nos. 1401, 1455, 1457, 1459–61, 1463–4, 1467–8, 1476, 1570–1, 1866. One late inscription speaks explicitly of ‘the Great Mysteries of Kore Soteira’ (μεγάλα μ[υ]στήρια τῆς Σωτήρας Κόρης): IMT, no. 1445 = Reinach (1890), 537–8, no. 2. ¹⁴¹ Kore’s saving intervention: Plut. Luc. 10. Other cases possibly not related to crises: e.g. Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira in the Piraeus, and the Diisoteria celebrated in their honour, on which see Deubner (1932), 174–5; Garland (1987), 138; Parker (1996), 239–40; Parker (2005b), 466–7; Parker (2008). Note also Zeus Soter and Artemis Soteira in Megalopolis, whose cult in the agora seems to have been established to safeguard the newly founded city (Paus. 8.30.10; IG V.2 432).

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2.5 Conclusion We have seen how, from the time when it received a heightened significance for the Greeks during the Persian Wars, the concept of soteria became increasingly popular, and continued to be employed and emphasized by Greek communities when in political, military, and other kinds of needs. Divine intervention in emergencies could lead to the use of the epithet Soter of the god concerned, and even establishment of a new cult or festival in his honour under that title. The frequency with which miracles were reported especially in the Hellenistic period, the care taken to record permanently and publicize widely these manifestations in writing and/or on stone, and the enthusiasm with which the cities celebrated these commemorative festivals and in some cases invited participation from other cities all suggest a strong element of civic pride and inter-state competition. It is certainly not the case that the gods were more inclined to manifest themselves in the Hellenistic period than before, but rather cities were vying with each other in advertising the efficacy of their major divinities, and in proclaiming the special favour and ‘protected’ status they enjoyed. In contrast to Christianity,¹⁴² then, the Greek concept of soteria had an important public dimension as well as a private one. Soteria for the Greeks was not just about personal safety and deliverance; it was also about the security and well-being of the community, which could directly impinge on that of its members. Many of the situations discussed in this chapter concern situations of crisis— military threats, tyrannical rule, water shortage, other natural disasters, and so on. They are chosen partly because they provide some of the most vivid and colourful illustrations of ‘saviour’ gods at work, and partly because divine involvement in such situations tends to be more readily visible in our literary and epigraphic records. Yet we must not be distracted by these crises-related situations into neglecting the importance of soteria for communities during good times. There exist thousands of regular sacrifices and prayers for the health and soteria of the polis all over the Greek world, which show that soteria concerned maintaining a community’s existing well-being as much as, and perhaps even more importantly than, deliverance from specific problems. It would, after all, be rash to wait until misfortunes strike to cultivate the gods for protection. In the day-to-day experience of Greek communities, ‘saviour’ gods would usually remain in the background, preserving their existing order and status quo, and therefore it can be hard to see them explicitly at work in normal circumstances. It is tempting to categorize these different situations into ‘high-intensity’ and ‘low-intensity’ uses of soteria; yet this would be potentially misleading as the distinction thus made is fluid and not clear-cut.¹⁴³ When the Delphic Soteria

¹⁴² See Chapter 6.

¹⁴³ See Introduction n. 30 for the distinction.

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was celebrated for the first time, the Greeks might remember more vividly, and invoke more earnestly, the gods’ power to keep them safe from the barbarians. But once the crisis had receded to the background, in subsequent celebrations of the festival, its original significance might have faded away, and the Greeks are likely to have had in mind their general well-being. In other words, what was originally a ‘high-intensity’ experience could become a ‘low-intensity’ one. Conversely, what we call ‘low-intensity’ rituals might be no more than routine prayers and rituals in a good year, but when adversities struck, the same rite could take on a very different significance, hence the Athenian prayer ‘for health and safety of crops in the countryside’ during the Chremonidean War.¹⁴⁴ Equally fluid is the dividing line between ‘saviour’ gods and other cityprotecting divinities. We have seen other epithets which can similarly express a god’s power to protect a community, some of the commonest are, inter alia, Alexikakos (‘Averter of Evil’), Apotropaios (‘Averter’), Epikourios (‘Helper’), Medeousa (‘Protecting’, ‘Ruling Over’), and Poliouchos (‘Protecting a City’). The dividing line between Soter and these epithets with overlapping meanings is a very thin one. Apart from these functional epithets signifying divine protection, the Greeks might also use other kinds of epithet, and the choice of title could be a matter of emphasis: Zeus Hellanios emphasized the Panhellenic relevance of his cult, whereas Zeus Panamaros stressed the god’s special relationship with the locality concerned. Soter and Soteira are not invariably used where soteria was hoped for, and the lack of these epithets (or other related ones) by no means diminishes the god’s saving power. Given the diversity of expressions for similar ideas and the flexibility in religious language, how the Greeks decided which cult epithet to use and whether to use one at all is a tricky question which often escapes us. The flexibility, and sometimes even apparent arbitrariness, with which the Greeks addressed their gods is a feature of Greek polytheism which we have seen before and which we shall encounter again in other parts of this study. As we move on to the relationship between ‘saviour’ gods and private individuals in the next chapter, we shall see how individuals might coin new epithets or adapt their ways of addressing the gods according to their own needs and circumstances.

¹⁴⁴ IG II/III² 668 = IG II/III³ 1, 920, lines 8–10.

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3 Individual ‘Salvation’ Personal Needs and ‘Saving’ Experiences

Towards the end of Aristophanes’ Wealth, a priest of Zeus Soter comes onto the stage complaining that, despite his position, he is starving to death now that Wealth has recovered his eyesight and made everyone rich. In the past, he says, people used to sacrifice to Zeus after a safe voyage, after a successful lawsuit, and when seeking favourable omens (presumably before embarking on an enterprise).¹ Aristophanes is referring to the cult of Zeus Soter in the Piraeus, which must have been one of the most popular and prosperous cults in Classical Athens. Today archaeological remains of this shrine can no longer be traced, but Pausanias tells us that the precinct was adorned with bronze images of Zeus and Athena, and was ‘the most noteworthy sight in the Piraeus’.² By contrast to the cult of Zeus Soter in the Athenian agora, which had a public and political character as we saw in the previous chapters, the one in the Piraeus primarily served the needs of private individuals. Situated in the bustling harbour town of Attica, it must have been frequented by merchants, sailors, soldiers, travellers, and many others from Attica and elsewhere. The temple, we can imagine, must have been filled with the smoke of sacrifice and innumerable dedications from worshippers ‘saved’ by the god in one way or another. The clientele and personal needs that Zeus Soter served were probably more wide-ranging than Aristophanes suggests. This chapter continues the theme of the previous one, on the role of ‘saviour’ gods and the ‘saving’ experiences of the Greeks, but instead of communities, the focus shifts to individuals and their interactions with the gods.³ Aristophanes’ passage provides a valuable reference to the religious needs of ordinary individuals, which are rarely documented in the work of most Greek authors. Apart from what the priest mentions, under what other circumstances, and with what expectations, did the Greeks invoke the gods for soteria? How did individuals choose to ¹ Ar. Plut 1178–84. ² Paus. 1.1.3. The temple is also described in Strabo 9.1.15, 398; Anecd. Bach. p. 91, s.v. Δισωτήριον, says that the temple of Zeus Soter at Athens (presumably the one in the Piraeus) is called the Disoterion. See also Lycurg. Leoc. 17, with commentary in Roisman and Edwards (2019), 104, on this cult. ³ The dividing line between ‘public’ and ‘private’ saving situations can be ambiguous in cases where, for instance, a group of soldiers or farmers is concerned; this raises the problem of which chapter the material should belong in. This is not crucially important for our purposes since the categories are artificial and not absolute, and some contexts concern the soteria of a community as much as that of its members.

Saviour Gods and Soteria in Ancient Greece. Theodora Suk Fong Jim, Oxford University Press. © Theodora Suk Fong Jim 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192894113.003.0004

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which gods to turn as ‘saviours’, and what did soteria mean to them? To answer these questions, we rely to a large extent on prayers and dedicatory inscriptions left by worshippers themselves: these are personal testimonies of the gods’ ‘saving’ power and tokens of hope and gratitude for soteria prayed for and/or received. Hundreds of such dedications are scattered all over the Greek world; what follows is a selection of materials that can best shed light on the personal needs and ‘saving’ experiences of private individuals. While the source materials differ from those in the previous chapter, the ‘saviour’ gods we shall encounter and the saving functions they performed largely coincide and overlap with those we have seen before. Most of these inscriptions are brief and uninformative, but the hopes for soteria they express are no less varied.

3.1 Warfare One group of worshippers not mentioned by the priest in Aristophanes’ Wealth consists of those on campaign. Zeus Soter was particularly popular among armies and soldiers throughout the Greek world. Apart from the cult in the Piraeus, in the Hellenistic period there emerged another joint cult of Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira in the coastal deme of Rhamnus in Attica, where an important fort and garrison was situated. Attested in Attic epigraphic records from 229 , this cult in Rhamnus seems to have been above all a protective cult for the troops. Its clientele seems to have consisted mainly of soldiers and their commanders—military and naval officers are among those offering sacrifices and dedications to Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira,⁴ but it is possible that other social groups in Rhamnus also participated.⁵ Zeus and Athena probably became ‘saviours’ of the troops because of dangers on campaigns, and this remained an important local cult providing a common focus of worship even in less risky situations. Outside Attica Zeus Soter enjoyed widespread worship by soldiers across the Greek world, and was the most frequently invoked ‘saviour’ in the military sphere.⁶ Armies on the move could appeal to Zeus Soter even when a cult site of the god was not close at hand. A well-known instance of this is recorded in Xenophon’s Anabasis. Shortly after the murder of the Greek generals, when Xenophon addressed the Ten Thousand and spoke of their ‘many excellent hopes of safety (soteria)’, someone in the troops sneezed and this was interpreted ⁴ Sacrifices: I.Rhamnous, nos. 22, 26, 31. Dedications: I.Rhamnous, nos. 146, 148–53. ⁵ On different groups coexisting at Rhamnus, see Osborne (1990), 277–85, esp. 283. ⁶ Zeus Soter’s great popularity among military men is evident from the many dedications he received from them: e.g. I.Rhamnous, nos. 148–52 (strategoi at Rhamnus); IG II/III² 3011 = IG II/III³ 4, 417 (ephebes in Athens); IG VII 3206 = Tod II, no. 197 (the cavalrymen of Alexander the Great, in Orchomenos); SEG XXVI 718 (four strategoi in Cassope); I.Kition 2003 (Ptolemaic military officials in Kition), OGIS 119 (a Ptolemaic military official in Itanos), and other examples in Chapter 3.2 below. Launey (1987), 914–17, discusses Zeus Soter and other ‘saviour’ gods worshipped by armies.

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as a good omen sent by Zeus Soter. Xenophon therefore proposed to make ‘thankofferings for deliverance’ (σωτήρια) to Zeus Soter as soon as they reached a friendly land.⁷ The theme of divine deliverance is reinforced by the repeated use of σωτηρία and σῴζειν when Xenophon resumed his speech, where the words had several layers of meaning: not just the soldiers’ physical survival, but also their safe arrival, and deliverance from dangers in their long journey homeward.⁸ The army fulfilled their vow when they reached the city of Trapezus on the Euxine Sea: they performed ox sacrifices as σωτήρια to Zeus and held small-scale contests in his honour.⁹ Zeus was chosen as Soter partly because of the omen he was believed to have sent; his Panhellenic significance would also suit the diverse backgrounds of the soldiers making up the Ten Thousand.¹⁰ Less frequently attested than Zeus as Soter, but no less suitable as a military protector, is Heracles, whose military prowess and exploits made him an appropriate patron of soldiers.¹¹ In the second century  three warriors from Cassope in Epirus honoured Heracles as follows: Φιλώτας Φρύνωνος Ἵππαρχος Φιλοξένου Κύλισος Πολυξένου Ἡρακλεῖ Σωτῆρι τὸν ἐγ Διὸς βλαστόντα παῖδ̣᾽ Ἡ̣ ρακλέα Σωτῆρ᾽ ἀνηγ̣ ό̣ρ̣ε̣υ̣σαν οἱ (ἀ)πὸ Κ[ασ]σώπης μολόντες Ἀσίαν̣ ἱππικοῖς ὀχήμασιν, ὅτε στρατηγὸς ἦγε̣ Μάαρκος στρατὸν ἐπ᾽ Ἀριστόνικον, ὃν κρατήσαντες δορὶ Ῥώμην ἄγουσιν οἵδε Βουχετίων ἄπο βλαστόντες Ὀξ[ύλ]ου τε τοῦ παλαίχθονος, σωθέντες θύουσιν εἰς πάτραν ἀϕειγμένοι, τὸν συνπα[ρ]α̣στατοῦ[ντ]α πολεμικαῖς ἀεὶ μάχαις ἀνιδρύσαντο τόνδ᾽ Ἡρακλέα.¹² Philotas son of Phrynon, Hipparchos son of Philoxenos, Kylisos son of Polyxenos, to Heracles Soter.

⁷ Xen. An. 3.2.8. ⁸ Xen. An. 3.2.9–11, with Dillery (1995), 69–70. ⁹ Xen. An. 4.8.25. ¹⁰ Cf. Hom. Il. 2.400–1, where Agamemnon’s troops prayed, each to a different god. ¹¹ On Heracles’ military role, see Burkert (1985), 211; Graf (1985), 99; Stafford (2012). On the cult of Heracles in Epirus, see Tzouvara-Souli (1993), esp. 77. ¹² Dakaris (1987) = SEG XXXVI 555 (shortly after 129 ); BE (1988), no. 791; with revisions in Merkelbach (1991) = SEG XLI 541 and discussion in Daubner (2006), 144–7. Merkelbach notes that line 12 is not metrical, and that the stone needs to be examined.

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Heracles, the son brought forth from Zeus, they proclaimed as Saviour, those men from Cassope who went to Asia with horse-drawn chariots, when Markos the general led an army against Aristonikos, whom the men springing from Bouchetion and Oxylos, the ancient inhabitant, defeated and brought to Rome. After returning safely to their fatherland, they offered sacrifice and erected this (statue of ) Heracles, who always stands beside them in battles.

The elaborate verse text is inscribed on a base once supporting a bronze statue of Heracles. The dedicators had taken part in the Roman campaign against Aristonikos, the rebellious son of Eumenes II of Pergamum. That they went to Asia Minor with chariots shows that they must have been very well off and were no ordinary soldiers. After handing over Aristonikos to Rome, and upon their safe return to Cassope (σωθέντες εἰς πάτραν), they performed a sacrifice and erected the statue to Heracles Soter, who ‘always stands beside them in battles’. This is a rare explicit statement of the dedicators’ special relationship with their protective god, and the language is reminiscent of that employed in some Hellenistic decrees cited in the last chapter.¹³ One wonders whether, in proclaiming the god as Soter, they cried out to ‘Heracles Soter’ on the battlefield, or if any declaration on some ritual occasion was involved. In any case what might have been a momentary address in speech here translates into a permanent title of the god. Compared to the much shorter inscriptions left by most individuals, this elaborate text had greater potential for serving various functions at once: not just an expression of thanks for divine protection received, but also a display of the individuals’ wealth, achievement, ancestry, and special relationship with the divinity. Dionysus was not prominent as Soter whether in warfare or other activities, but was honoured as such by a group of mercenaries. Archaeologists have discovered, in the modern city of Drama in Macedonia, a marble block intended as a thankoffering to Dionysus Soter (Διονύσῳ Σωτῆρι εὐχαριστήριον). It was set up by a military commander and five soldiers, who were Thracian mercenaries.¹⁴ They do not reveal how Dionysus protected them while on campaign, and given Dionysus’ general popularity among the Thracians,¹⁵ it seems likely that he was chosen not necessarily because of any saving intervention he effected in battle, but because he was the god whom these soldiers would normally worship at home.

¹³ Cf. IOSPE I² 352 = IOSPE³ III 8, lines 23–4 (ἁ διὰ παντὸς Χερσονασιτᾶν προστατοῦσα Παρθένος); I.Stratonikeia, no. 512.10–11 (ἡ Ἑκάτη ἐν πᾶσι τούτοις συνπαρισταμένη αὐτῶι). ¹⁴ SEG LVII 577 (early second century ). The fragmentary text mentions Tral(e)is, who were Thracian or Illyrian mercenaries; the former must be meant here as most of the dedicators have Thracian names: see Launey (1987), 398–402. ¹⁵ For another attestation of Dionysus Soter in Thrace, see Schönert-Geiss (1987), Textband 64–85, Tafelband 37ff. (coins in Maroneia inscribed ΔΙΟΝΥΣΟΥ ΣΩΤΗΡΟΣ ΜΑΡΩΝΙΤΩΝ, c.189/8–49/45 ). It used to be thought that Dionysus came from Thrace to Greece, but attestations of Dionysus on Linear B tablets discovered from Pylos point rather to a Minoan-Mycenaean origin: the controversy is summarized in Burkert (1985), 162–3.

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      

Closely associated with warfare is the danger of captivity while on campaign.¹⁶ But instead of Heracles or Zeus, we find, rather unexpectedly, Asclepius at work in one instance in this context. In the fourth century , not long after the god’s arrival in Athens, someone thanked Asclepius for being ‘saved from the wars, ransomed and freed’ ([– – – – σ]ωθεὶς ἐκ ῶμ πολέμων καὶ λυτρωθὲς – – – – – ων ἐλευθερωθὲ[ς ἀνέθη]κεν).¹⁷ The dedicator was probably taken as prisoner, and carried or sold off as a slave, but was fortunately ransomed and returned to freedom thanks to Asclepius. He seems to have had in mind protection of a different kind than physical well-being: the god’s power to save him from war and captivity. Although the god is not called Soter here, the text shows that already in the Classical period, Asclepius’ saving power was more wide-ranging than we tend to suppose and not limited to healing. As we saw in the last chapter, Asclepius could even, in another exceptional instance, take up arms and intervene on the battlefield.¹⁸ In the last chapter we have already met the barbarian forces of the Galatians, whose large-scale movement eastward posed a major threat to the Greeks. We learn of the experience of one Phanokritos from Thyateira, who was captured during the Gallic invasion. Subsequently his father dedicated a stele to Apollo Pityaenos ‘for the health (ὑγίεια) of himself and his wife and for the release (σωτηρία) of his son Phanokritos, who returned safely after being captured by the Galatians (ὃς ἁλοὺς ὑπὸ τῶν Γαλατῶν ἐσώθη)’.¹⁹ Apollo’s epithet Pityaenos refers to the neighbouring village of Pityaia: it was to the local Apollo that the father had vowed and was now giving thanks. As the stele was set up in the thirtyseventh year of the Ptolemaic era (276/5 ), Phanokritos must have been taken prisoner by the Galatians who crossed the Hellespont to Asia Minor in 278 , but fortunately he was released. Sometimes soteria could overlap in meaning with hygieia in the context of health and healing (see below), but here the two concepts express rather different concerns: the father was praying for the physical wellbeing (ὑγίεια) of the couple and the release and safe return (σωτηρία, ἐσώθη) of their son. Instead of erecting two dedications, the father economically combined his two prayers in one single stele. He further sought to extend the divine favour to all his family members, and ended by praying that Apollo be gracious to himself, his wife, descendants, and brothers. This illustrates well the capacity of Greek offerings to look simultaneously backward and forward.

¹⁶ Bielman (1994) contains various decrees which use the language of saving in connection with the freeing of captives in ancient Greece, but these concern human rather than divine agency. ¹⁷ IG II/III² 4357 = IG II/III³ 4, 673; NM 1354; LIMC II.1 s.v. Asklepios, no. 92 (first half of fourth century ). ¹⁸ IG IV².1 128.57–78 (see Chapter 2), though the action there concerns the city of Sparta rather than an individual. See also the Epidaurian iamata, e.g. IG IV².1 121.79–89, 123.8–21, where some actions not related to healing are documented. ¹⁹ TAM V.2, no. 881.

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Captivity in war was again the theme of an inscribed relief in Cyzicus, where a prominent cult of Meter existed. Rather strikingly, it was set up by a eunuch priest (gallos) of Meter for the safety of his partner (σύμβιος). The inscription relates how Markos was taken prisoner and carried off to slavery while on campaign in Libya, and the goddess informed her priest Soterides in a dream that Markos ‘[will be saved from] gre[at da]ngers’ by invoking her ([σωθήσεται ἐκ τῶν] με[γάλω]ν [κι]νδύνων).²⁰ The stone breaks off here, but the fact that Soterides was discharging his vow must suggest that his prayer was answered. The sacrificial scene might well depict the animal sacrifice conducted upon Markos’ safe return: a servant is leading a sheep towards the altar; behind him is a figure in female attire (in all probability the gallos) and a male figure (could this be Markos?), both of whom are holding a musical instrument in one hand and holding up the other in a gesture of adoration (Fig. 2). Meter was here honoured for sending the dream vision and saving Markos from captivity. In this as in the last inscription, the passive form of sozein signifies ‘safe return’ or ‘getting home safely’.²¹ It is interesting to note the dedicator’s name Soterides, which also expresses the concern for soteria.²² Various dedications commemorate individuals’ deliverance from war and/or captivity using the formula σωθεὶς ἐκ τινός. In Rhodes, an individual ‘saved from captivity from Cilicia’ (σωθεὶς ἐκ Κιλικίας ἐκ τᾶς αἰχμαλωσίας) fulfilled his vow to Phosphoros, most probably referring to Artemis.²³ Elsewhere, we meet someone ‘saved from war and immeasurable hardships’ (σωθεὶς ἐκ πολέμ[ου] καὶ ἀμετρήτων μάλα μόχθων), and a group of individuals ‘saved from great wars and foreign seas (?)’ (σωθέντες ἐκ πολέμων μεγάλων καὶ ἀλλοδαποῖο θαλασσῶν).²⁴ A very common formulation is ‘saved from (great) danger’ (σωθεὶς ἐκ (μεγάλου) κινδύνου),²⁵ but in the absence of further contextual information we cannot determine whether the danger was military.

²⁰ Syll.³ 763 (46 ); Charbonneaux (1964), 76, no. 2850; Vermaeseren (1977–89), vol. 1, 94, no. 287; Van Straten (1993), 255–6. On the cult of Meter, see Roller (1999), esp. 332–3 on this text. ²¹ This usage is already found in Classical literature: see Chapter 1, and also Hornblower and Biffis (2018), 17–21. ²² See Introduction n. 10 on other personal names beginning with the root sos-. ²³ SEG XLII 747 (Rhodes, undated); cf. (Artemis) Soteira Euekoos Phosphoros Ennodia in IG XII.1 914, and Artemis Soteira in IG XII.1 915. ²⁴ IG XIV 1564 (Germania Superior, undated); I.Stratonikeia 1104 (Stratoniceia, imperial period). ²⁵ IG II/III³ 4, 1360 (Athens, fourth century ); I.Délos 2119 (Delos, undated); I.Délos 2433 (Delos, undated); IG XII,1 742 (Rhodes, undated); I.Sinuri 8 (Sinuri, second to first century ); CIG 3669 (Cyzicus, undated); Malay, Lydia Mysia Aiolis, nos. 118 (Katakekaumene region, late Hellenistic/early Roman), 137 (Nisyra, Roman imperial period); Malay–Petzl, Lydia, no. 204 (Lydia, Roman imperial period). These and related formulae are discussed in Habicht (2001).

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      

Fig. 2 Votive Stele set up by Soterides in Cyzicus, first century  (Louvre MA2850, © RMN-Grand Palais (musée du Louvre), photo by Hervé Lewandowski).

3.2 Seafaring Maritime activities gave rise to a larger number of ‘saviour’ gods than any other sphere of life: Zeus, Apollo, Artemis, Athena, the Dioscuri, Heracles, Isis, Poseidon, Theos Hypsistos, and (in Greek literature) Tyche are all attested as

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‘saviours’ at sea, though their popularity among seafarers varies greatly as we shall see shortly. Their impressive number is an index of the great dangers inherent in seafaring in antiquity, and of the anxieties associated with it in the minds of the Greeks. There is inevitably some overlap here with the last section, as ‘saviour’ gods worshipped by armies might also be invoked by navies and sailors for protection: this is an extension of their power to save military men. In the cult in Rhamnus already mentioned, for instance, a trierarch was honoured, among his other services, for having ‘sacrificed to Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira for the health, safety, and unity of his fellow sailors, so that they might be united and be preserved (σωιζόμενοι) and be expedient to the demos in the future’.²⁶ Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira were here entrusted with the hygieia, soteria, and homonoia of the fleet. Armed forces probably made no distinction between protection on land and at sea, and could appeal to Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira for both. While the Athenian troops at Rhamnus turned to Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira, another Hellenistic garrison invoked a different set of ‘saviour’ gods in a different context. When serving in a Seleucid garrison on Icaros (modern Failaka) in the Persian Gulf, far removed from his deme and polis cults, an Athenian commander Soteles set up at least four dedications on the island, either independently or jointly with his troops.²⁷ One of them is inscribed ‘Sotel[es] the Athenian and his sold[iers] to Zeus Soter, Poseidon, Artemis Soteira’ (Σωτέλ[ης] | Ἀθηναῖο[ς] | καὶ οἱ στρα[τιῶται]|Δὶ Σωτῆρι || Ποσειδῶνι | Ἀρτέμιδι | Σωτείραι).²⁸ Zeus Soter was given precedence presumably for his control over the sky and weather, and more importantly, human fortune. Poseidon was the lord of the sea even without further specification. Artemis Soteira relates to a local cult on the island: there an indigenous goddess was associated by the Greeks with Artemis, and a temple of Artemis Soteira already existed by at least the third century .²⁹ Another dedication, by Soteles alone, was addressed to Poseidon Asphaleios (‘Securer’) perhaps in relation to earthquakes and, by extension, rough seas,³⁰ whereas a third and fragmentary one mentions a sacrifice made in gratitude for being saved ([σωθέ]ντες ἔθυσαν), although the name(s) of the god(s) are not preserved.³¹ The ²⁶ I.Rhamnous, no. 31 (225/4 ), lines 9–12: ἔθυσεν δὲ καὶ τῶι Διὶ τῶι σωτεῖρι καὶ τεῖ Ἀθηνᾶι τεῖ [σω]τείραι περὶ ὑγιείας καὶ σωτηρίας καὶ ὁμονοίας τῶν [συ]νπλευσάντων, ὅπως ἂν ὁμονοοῦντες καὶ σωιζόμε[νοι κ]αὶ εἰς τὸ μετὰ ταῦτα χρησιμοὶ γίνωνται τῶι δήμωι. ²⁷ Soteles’ activities have been variously dated to the late fourth or early third century , but a recently published sherd bearing his name has been dated, on the basis of stratigraphy and more securely than before, to the first half of the third century: see Gatier (2007) = SEG LVII 1772. ²⁸ Roueché and Sherwin-White (1985), no. 1 = SEG XXXV 1477, I.Estremo Oriente, no. 416 (with bibliography). ²⁹ Arr. Anab. 7.20.3–4; Ael. NA 11.9. The temple is mentioned in the so-called great Icaros inscription: Roueché and Sherwin-White (1985), no. 3; I.Estremo Oriente, nos. 421–2. See also Jeppesen (1989). ³⁰ I.Estremo Oriente, no. 418: [Σωτ]έλης | [Ἀθη]ναῖος | [Πο]ειδῶ|[νι Ἀσ]ϕαλ|[είῳ] (‘Soteles the Athenian to Poseidon the Securer’). ³¹ I.Estremo Oriente, no. 417: [– – σωθέ]ντες ἔθυσαν | [– – – κε]χαρισμένα | [– – – Σω]τέλου ἡγεμόνος.

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      

theme of protection on land and at sea recurs in these objects. Soteles and his troops might have vowed to various divinities before or during their long voyage, and set up these dedications in gratitude for their safety. Soteles’ dedications show that it was not uncommon for the Greeks to invoke multiple gods for maritime protection; it was probably expedient to solicit the help of as many gods as possible for such a dangerous enterprise. Such is the strategy of another group of soldiers. On Tenos in the Hellenistic period, a group of Rhodian soldiers together with their naval commander and trierarchs dedicated to as many as ten divinities in accordance with the Delphic oracle: Zeus Soter, Poseidon Asphaleios, Athena Soteira, Artemis Orthosia, Heracles, Ares, Athena Areia, Enyo, Enyalios, and Nike.³² Though not all the gods were called Soter/Soteira, the partial overlap with Soteles’ first dedication is noteworthy: Zeus Soter and Poseidon are again given precedence over other deities; a local goddess, here Athena (not Artemis), was invoked as Soteira presumably because of her prominence on Rhodes.³³ As the examples on Tenos and Icaros show, where multiple gods were invoked, very often Zeus (with or without the epithet Soter) would occupy first place given his highest status in the Greek pantheon.³⁴ In both inscriptions from Tenos and Icaros, Poseidon is given second place after Zeus Soter but is not himself called ‘saviour’ (though he is Asphaleios in the Tenian inscription). Poseidon Soter is surprisingly difficult to find in epigraphic evidence, and almost absent in dedications from private individuals. This is curious given Poseidon’s powerful influence at sea. As we saw in Chapter 1, Poseidon first acquired the epithet Soter after assisting the Greek fleet by wrecking the Persian forces in 480 .³⁵ However, even though Herodotus tells us that the title of Poseidon Soter was still in use in his time, there is in fact no evidence of Poseidon Soter in the rest of the Classical period, and only scraps of it in the Hellenistic period.³⁶ The closest we come to the private worship of Poseidon Soter is an admiral’s dedication in Panticapaeum in the Bosporus, addressed to

³² IG XII.5 913 (second century ). ³³ For another example of Athena Soteira on Rhodes, see Clara Rhodos 2 (1932), 184, no. 9. ³⁴ See also e.g. (1) Arr. Anab. 1.4.5 (Alexander sacrificed to Zeus Soter, Heracles, and the River Danube); Arr. Indica 36.3 (Alexander offered sacrifices termed σωτήρια to Zeus Soter, Heracles, Apollo Alexikakos, Poseidon, and all gods of the sea); in both instances Zeus comes first as the dynastic god of the Macedonian kings. (2) Diod. Sic. 13.102.2 (the Athenians vowed to Zeus Soter, Apollo, and the Semnai before the naval battle of Arginusae). Cf. (3) RO 114 (public dedication at Selinus, note esp. line 10: τὸ Διὸ[ς ?προ]γρά[ψ]α̣ντες). ³⁵ Hdt. 7.192. ³⁶ The relatively small number of inscribed dedications to Poseidon is also a factor; e.g. there are remarkably few private dedications (only two) to Poseidon in the entire new corpus IG II/III³ 4,2. Hellenistic evidence is scrappy: the reference to [Ποσειδῶνος] Σωτῆρος ἐπὶ Σο[υν]ίου in IG II/III² 1300.9 (c.230 ) appears in a highly fragmentary context. Equally doubtful is the supplement ἐπὶ Σουνίου ἐν [τῶι] Σωτ̣[ῆ]|[ρος ἱερ]ῶι in I.Rhamnous, no. 20.28–9 (235/4 ), restored based on IG II/III² 1300.9. Contrast Petrakos’ earlier supplement in the ed. pr. of this text in Prakt (1989), 28–31, no. 14, with pl. 13 = SEG XLI 87: ἐπὶ Σουνίου ἐν ΟΙΣ ΑΝ[– – c.4 – –] | [– – – c.12 – – –]ναι· A re-examination of the stone by autopsy is needed.

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Poseidon Sosineos (‘Ship-Saving’) and Aphrodite Nauarchis (‘Mistress of Ships’).³⁷ Sosineos is hitherto not attested as an epithet of Poseidon,³⁸ and might have been coined by the admiral to reflect his concern for safety at sea. Poseidon could obviously cause or quell storms and save mariners at will,³⁹ but was rarely called ‘saviour’ for reasons which we shall postpone discussing until the next chapter. While we would expect seafarers to seek aid from Zeus Soter and Poseidon Soter for reasons already discussed, it is rather unexpected to invoke Apollo as ‘saviour’ at sea given that maritime protection is not a prominent part of his Panhellenic persona.⁴⁰ The earliest epigraphic attestation of Apollo Soter concerns a pilgrimage by sea:⁴¹ after travelling from Apollonia in Cyrenaica to Delphi in about the middle of the fourth century , five sacred ambassadors (thearoi) set up a dedication to Apollo Soter in Apollonia upon their safe return home.⁴² Apollo was doubly appropriate as Soter given his close connection to Apollonia, and given that Delphi was the destination to which these individuals were travelling. The dedication raises the important question of how Greek worshippers chose their ‘saviour’ in a given situation. Their choice, it would appear, was not necessarily strictly or primarily dependent on what is thought of as a god’s normal sphere of influence, but other considerations may be at play. For these sacred ambassadors, Apollo was particularly appropriate to the place concerned. We are not told on what mission they were sent to Delphi: might they have been consulting the oracle of Apollo for advice? Another group of sailors, from Miletus, set up a dedication when they landed on the island of Cos.⁴³ Apollo was the principle god at Miletus, and the cult of Apollo at Didyma had come under Milesian control by at least the third century . Although ‘Apollo Didymeus Soter’ seems to have become a semi-standard way of referring to this god in the Hellenistic period and therefore the title Soter might have lost its original significance,⁴⁴ in the present context this epithet might well relate to

³⁷ CIRB 30 (first century ). ³⁸ Sosineos is attested as the name of a hero in the sacrificial calendar of Thorikos (SEG XXXIII 147.50). The identification between Sosineos and Poseidon in a (funeral?) relief in Andros by Petrocheilos (2010), no. 95 is highly uncertain: see Chaniotis’s remarks in EBGR (2011) [2014], no. 101. ³⁹ The language of saving is used in a private dedication for Poseidon from Messene, published in Themelis (1994), 95, taf. 42b; Themelis (2010), 111: a woman dedicated to Poseidon (no epithet) for her husband and son who were saved (ὑπὲρ τῶ ἀνδρὸς καὶ τῶ υἱῶ [λα]χῶσα [σ]ωθέντων). The supplement [τυ]χῶσα would fit better than [λα]χῶσα. See also Papazarkadas and Wallensten (2020), no. 1, for a newly published dedicatory inscription from Kalauria, which ends with a prayer to Poseidon (no epithet) to preserve Sosistratos’ family. ⁴⁰ But see Fenet (2016), 139–71, on Apollo’s relation to the sea. ⁴¹ The other fourth-century attestation of Apollo Soter is literary: Dem. 43.66. ⁴² Oliverio (1961), no. 20, with fig. 35; SEG XX 707 (c.350 ). ⁴³ IG XII.4 566 (second to first century ). Cf. the very similar IG XII.4 567, dedicated to Apollo Didymeus, but without the epithet Soter. ⁴⁴ Apollo Didymeus Soter recurs in e.g. I.Didyma 75, I.Milet VI.1 279–81, I.Milet VI.3 1234–6.

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      

maritime protection of the Milesian crew. Apollo was chosen here as the god whom these Milesians would normally worship at home. Apollo again features as Soter in a voyage of Aelius Aristides. On his way from western Greece to Asia Minor in  144, Aristides landed on Delos but refused to set sail for two days, much against his crew’s wishes, because of a divine sign he received of an impending storm; that night the island was hit by a violent wind and rain storm. Aristides was himself hailed as ‘benefactor and saviour’ by his sailors for saving them from the potential disaster, but he attributed their deliverance (soteria) from dangers to Delian Apollo, whom he called Soter.⁴⁵ Three groups of people, then, all honoured Apollo as Soter but for different reasons: the Apollonian ambassadors chose the god at their destination Delphi, the Milesians invoked their principal divinity at home, and Aristides acknowledged the god who sent the divine sign and on whose sacred island he escaped from a potential shipwreck. The case of Apollo suggests, significantly, that maritime saviours were not necessarily the gods most prominently associated with the sea, but could be chosen for other reasons. Compared to Apollo and Poseidon, the Dioscuri are more widely and frequently attested as ‘saviours’ of seafarers.⁴⁶ An inscribed relief from Histria on the western coast of the Black Sea shows the Dioscuri Soteres on horseback, coming to the rescue of two worshippers who hold up their hands in prayer.⁴⁷ This is typical iconography of the twin gods; it reminds us of Alcaeus’ description of how they ‘journey on racing horses over the wide earth and all the sea, and easily deliver (ῤύεσθε) men from freezing death’.⁴⁸ The two worshippers here represent the soldiers and their commander mentioned in the accompanying inscription, who went on an expedition to assist the Apollonians. They might have been caught in some storm during their voyage but were delivered by the gods and got back safely. Given their character as specialist rescuers, are we to assume, then, that every mention of the Dioscuri Soteres and every dedication made in the Mediterranean in their honour must imply emergencies at sea? This does not appear to be what motivated the foundation of their cult under this title on the island of Tylos, which, like Icaros (Failaka), was a Hellenistic settlement in the Persian Gulf. There Kephisodoros, a strategos of an administrative unit ‘Tylos and the islands’, dedicated a temple to the Dioscuri Soteres ‘on behalf of King Hyspaosines and Queen Thalassia’ in the early years of the Characene kingdom.⁴⁹ The temple foundation need not relate to a specific naval expedition; it was erected

⁴⁵ Aristid. Or. 50.32–7 (Hieroi Logoi IV) Keil. The words sothenai, soteria, and soter recur in this passage. ⁴⁶ See the geographical distribution of the Dioscuri Soteres in Chapter 4, Fig. 21. ⁴⁷ I.Histriae 112 (third century ); Vianu (2001), 132, no. 178, pl. 73a (SEG LI 932). ⁴⁸ Alcaeus fr. 34, with tr. and commentary in Page (1955), 265–8, discussed in Chapter 1.1. ⁴⁹ I.Estremo Oriente, no. 147 = 427 (140–124 ): ὑπὲρ βασιλέως Ὑσπαοσίνου καὶ βασιλίσσης Θαλασσίας, τὸν ναὸν Διοσκόροις Σωτῆρσι Κη[ϕισό]δωρος στρατηγὸς Τύλου καὶ τῶν νήσων εὐχήν

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for the general well-being of the royal couple and as an expression of Kephisodoros’ loyalty to the king. The Dioscuri Soteres were suitably chosen given the maritime character of the Characene kingdom (also reflected in the queen’s name Thalassia). The temple would also provide a common focus of worship for soldiers serving abroad. Closely related in function to the Dioscuri are the Samothracian gods, whose Mysteries were believed to offer initiates protection at sea.⁵⁰ While serving in a Ptolemaic garrison in Coptus in Egypt, a commander from Thera set up a votive dedication to them to commemorate ‘having been saved from great dangers sailing out of the Red Sea’ (σωθεὶς ἐγ μεγάλων κινδύνων ἐκπλεύσας ἐκ τῆς Ἐρυθράς θαλάσσης).⁵¹ Another individual, in Apameia in Phrygia, similarly honoured the Samothracian gods because he was ‘saved from the sea’ (σωθεὶς κατὰ θάλ[ασ]σαν).⁵² Both dedicators might have been initiates, and both addressed their offerings to the ‘Great Gods of Samothrace’, which was the commonest way of referring to them in inscriptions outside the island.⁵³ By contrast to the Dioscuri, the Samothracian gods are hardly attested under the title of Soteres despite their similar power of saving mariners.⁵⁴ If they did not need to be so called since they were specialist rescuers at sea, then it is difficult to explain why the Dioscuri frequently carried the epithet. Equally curious is the absence of the epithet Soteira for Aphrodite, who could calm storms and save in other ways at sea. In a shrine of Aphrodite at Nymphaion in the Crimea, two individuals, probably corn-dealers, left a graffito attesting that they were ‘saved together with their corn because of Aphrodite’ (σὺ{Υ}ν σείτῳ σωθέντες διὰ Ἀϕροδείτην). Another group of merchants, according to Polycharmus, invoked the small image of Aphrodite they had on board to save (σῴζειν) them when caught in a storm near Naucratis. When they were so seasick that they had given up all hopes of survival (ἀπειρηκόσι τοῖς ἐμπλέουσιν τὴν σωτηρίαν), the goddess filled the space around her image with fresh myrtle and brought them to safety.⁵⁵ As the ‘guardian of every voyage’ (τῆς (‘On behalf of King Hyspaosines and Queen Thalassia, Kephisodoros, strategos of Tylos and the islands, (dedicated) the temple to Dioscuri Soteres (in fulfilment of ) a vow’). Discussed in Kosmin (2013). ⁵⁰ On the Samothracian gods, see Cole (1984), Clinton (2003), Bremmer (2014), 21–36, Clinton (forthcoming). ⁵¹ CPI 342; I.Portes, no. 48; OGIS 69 (246–222 ?). ⁵² MAMA VI p. 145, no. 94; CIG 3961 (Apameia, undated); Cole (1984), appendix I, no. 54. ⁵³ Cole (1984), 1–2, notes that they are called Theoi Megaloi or simply Theoi in inscriptions from Samothrace, and that ‘Samothracian’ is only used when they are mentioned elsewhere. See Mueller (1913), ch. 1, for a collection of inscriptions, and Parker (2017a), 141 n. 52. ⁵⁴ The Samothracian gods are not attested as Soteres except in Orph. Hymn 38 (lines 3, 24), but the language of saving is used in connection to them; e.g. Diod. Sic. 4.43.1–2, 4.48.5–7 relates that Orpheus twice saved the Argo in a storm by praying to the Samothracian gods for the soteria of the crew. See also Apoll. Rh. 1.916–21; Schol. Apoll. Rh. 1.917b, 918a, 918e; Schol. vet. Ar. Pax. 278. ⁵⁵ SEG LXI 625 (3) (third-century ); Polycharmus FGrH 640 F 1 = Ath. 15.675f–676c. See also another anecdote in Plut. Quaest. Graec. 303c. The language of saving at sea is used in connection to Aphrodite in e.g. I.Délos 2305 (in n. 58 below); Page, FGE, anon. VII = Anth. Pal. 5.11; Gow–Page, GP, Antipater XCIII = Anth. Pal. 9.143.

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      

πάσης ναυτιλίης ϕύλαξ), Aphrodite had many epithets signifying her maritime connection, such as Euploia (‘Fair-Sailing’), Galenaia (‘Calmer’), Pontia (‘of the Deep Sea’), Pelagia (‘of the Open Sea’), and Limenia (‘of the Harbour’),⁵⁶ and perhaps for this reason did not need the epithet Soteira.⁵⁷ Other dedicatory formulae, used in relation to a range of gods with or without the epithet Soter/Soteira, are ‘saved from water’ (ἐξ ὑδάτω[ν] σωθείς), ‘saved from pirates’ (σωθεὶς ἀπὸ πειρατῶν), ‘saved from the sea’ (σωθεὶς ἐκ πελάγους), and ‘saved from great dangers at sea’ (σωθεὶς ἐκ μεγάλου κινδύνου τοῦ κατὰ θάλασσαν).⁵⁸ In the Asclepieum in Pergamum, two individuals honoured Asclepius Soter after they were ‘saved by him from the sea outside (i.e. the Atlantic Ocean) and the barbarians there’ (ἀπὸ τῆς ἔξω θαλάσσης καὶ τῶν ἐκεῖ βαρβάρων σωθέντες ὑπ᾽ αὐτοῦ). We would like to know how Asclepius actually ‘saved’ at sea; the god is thanked here probably because the dedicators came from and/or landed in Pergamum, where an important cult centre of Asclepius existed.⁵⁹ In Dionysias in southern Syria an individual with a Greek name Antiochos, son of Diomedes, was ‘saved from the depth of a wild sea and the limits of fearful land’ (Διὶ σωτῆρι καὶ ϕωσϕόρῳ ἐκ θαλάσης (sic) β[υθοῦ] ἀγρίας καὶ περάτων γῆς ϕοβερᾶς σωθ[είς]); afterwards he set up an altar ‘to Zeus Soter and Phosphoros’. Phosphoros is here not a separate divinity (such as Artemis or Hecate), but an epithet applied unusually to Zeus, who is otherwise rarely attested under this title in the Greek world. The god in question seems to have been Baalshamin, whom the Syrians identified with Zeus Ouranios.⁶⁰ A great number of other maritime ‘saviours’ are attested and cannot all be discussed.⁶¹ What emerges from the above analysis is that the Greeks had no single or exclusive ‘saving’ god of the sea, and that maritime ‘saviours’ were not ⁵⁶ ‘Guardian of every voyage’: Page, FGE, anon. LXXXIII = Anth. Pal. 9.601. Euploia: e.g. Paus. 1.1.3; IG II/III² 2872; IOSPE I² 168. Galenaia: Callim. Epigr. 5; Anth. Pal. 10.21. Pontia: IG XII.4 302.b.41. Pelagia: Artem. 2.37. Limenia: Paus. 2.34.11. On Aphrodite and the sea, see Pirenne-Delforge (1994), esp. 433–9; Parker (2002); Demetriou (2010) (collection of sources); Pironti (2015); Fenet (2016), 105–36. ⁵⁷ But note the phrase ‘Aphrodite Sozousa’ on an anchor from Spain (SEG XLIX 1408) and in a painting in Pompeii depicting a boat (Maiuri (1958), 16). It is disputed whether the phrase refers to the name of the goddess, the name of the boat, or something else. ⁵⁸ CIMRM, no. 568 (Helios aniketos [Mithras?]); I.Délos 2305 (Zeus Ourios and Astarte Palaistine Aphrodite Ourania); I.Kanais, no. 42 (the Jewish god); IG X.2 67 (Theos Hypsistos Megistos Soter). ⁵⁹ AvP VIII.3, no. 63 (Pergamum, second century ). The dedication is addressed to ‘Zeus Soter Asclepius’: the god concerned is Asclepius rather than Zeus; his name is being combined with that of Zeus to elevate his power. This phenomenon is discussed in Parker (2017b). In the imperial period it is common to find the word order ‘Soter Asclepius’: see Chapter 4.3. As for the background of these dedicators, Habicht in AvP VIII.3 thought that they might have been merchants or visitors to Pergamum. Cf. LGPN V.A s.v. Erennianos, which takes one of the dedicators to be Pergamene by origin. On Asclepius’ power to save ‘from the sea’, see also Aristid. Or. 48.12–14 (Hieroi Logoi II) Keil (ἐκ τοῦ πελάγους ἄρα αὐτὸς ὁ σεσωκὼς ἦν). ⁶⁰ Mouterde (1931), 141–4 = SEG VII 967 (second to third century ). ⁶¹ e.g. IGDOP 50 (Achilles Soter); SEG XLVII 1517 (Heracles as σῶτερ ἁλιτρύτων, cf. IG XIV 1003); AvP VIII.3, no. 63 (Zeus Soter Asclepius); I.Délos 2132 (Isis Soteira Astarte Aphrodite Euploia Epekoos).

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necessarily the gods most closely or explicitly associated with seafaring. The plurality of divine helpers available for seafarers led Wachsmuth to conclude that what was important was not so much which god was called upon in one’s prayer, but that a prayer was made.⁶² While he is right to emphasize the multiple options available in Greek polytheism, it is nevertheless still important to ask, as far as contextual information allows, why a particular god was chosen as saviour in a given situation, and what force the epithet carried in each case. The uneven spread of the epithet in the Greek pantheon is a problem to which we shall return in greater detail in the following chapter.

3.3 Barbarians and Foreign Lands Travelling in foreign lands must have been as frightening as traversing the open sea in antiquity. It is in this context, when the Greeks were in Egypt in the Hellenistic period, that we meet Pan Soter for the first time: Pan is not otherwise attested under this epithet anywhere in the Greek world. Situated some 55 kilometres to the east of Edfu, in the eastern desert of Egypt, was a small shrine at El-Kanais founded by the pharaoh in the thirteenth century , and dedicated originally to Amun-Re and other Egyptian deities. The site continued to be in use over the centuries, and in the Ptolemaic period it was frequented by soldiers, officers, miners, hunters, and other individuals sent by the Ptolemies to explore the desert’s resources. These individuals left many graffiti on the temple’s rock surface and in the vicinity, in which they associated Pan with the Egyptian god Min (who resembled Amun-Re in iconography).⁶³ Min was an ithyphallic god whose protection was sought by nomads, hunters, miners, and travellers in the eastern desert.⁶⁴ When stationed in Egypt far away from home and civilization, Greek soldiers and officers saw in the local Min the familiar god Pan. Associated with grottos, mountains, and distance from urban life in general, Pan was a god of wild nature embodying the fear and danger associated with wilderness. In military contexts Pan was often thought to be responsible for sowing panic in the enemies,⁶⁵ but at El-Kanais he probably reflected the fear experienced by lonely individuals traversing the desert. ElKanais marked the departure from the mountainous desert and approach towards the Nile Valley to its west. To borrow Borgeaud’s phrase, El-Kanais was a ‘panic landscape’ where we can expect to find Pan. The god’s ambiguous nature on the

⁶² Wachsmuth (1967), 476–9. ⁶³ The graffiti are collected in I.Kanais and discussed in Mairs (2011). The dating of most of these graffiti is relative rather than precise: see Bernand in I.Kanais pp. 30–1. ⁶⁴ On Min, see Mercer (1949), 137–40; Watterson (1984), 187–9; Redford (2002), 218–20. ⁶⁵ e.g. Paus. 10.23.7–8, during the Galatian invasion, with Chapter 2 n. 49.

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border between man and beast, culture and wilderness, suits well El-Kanais’ borderline position between danger and safety, the unknown and the familiar.⁶⁶ Most Hellenistic graffiti from the shrine at El-Kanais were addressed to Pan; some of them use the aorist passive participle σωθεὶς/σωθέντες in various formulations: ‘saved from the land of the Sabaeans’ (σ[ω]θεὶς γῆς ἀπὸ τῆς αβαίων),⁶⁷ ‘saved from the sea’ (σωθεὶς ἐκ πελους),⁶⁸ and ‘safely arrived in Egypt’ (ἐσώθην εἰς Αἴγυπτον).⁶⁹ Unless contextual information suggests otherwise, we need not suppose that σωθεὶς/σωθέντες must indicate deliverance from some real danger encountered on land or at sea; it can mean no more than ‘having arrived/returned safely’. A particularly common formula, used in as many as ten graffiti, is ‘having safely returned from the Trogodytes’ (σωθεὶς/σωθέντες ἀπὸ Τρωγοδυτῶν),⁷⁰ who were the indigenous people in the eastern desert. One graffito reads: Πανὶ Εὐόδωι Σωτῆρι Μελανιᾶς Ἀπολλωνίου Περγάος σωθὲν (sic) ἐκ Τρωγοδυτῶν.⁷¹ To Pan of Good Road, Saviour, Melanias son of Apollonios of Perge, returned safely from the Trogodytes.

Incised and painted in red in a niche at the foot of a cliff, Melanias’ text was on a rock surface decorated by a small four-legged animal (perhaps a camel) and a much bigger human figure in profile view wearing what appears to be a hat or helmet: might this represent a Trogodyte as Bernand thought?⁷² That the Greek travellers should commemorate their safe return from the Trogodytes may give the impression that they were perceived as the most terrifying aspect of their experience. However, no substantial evidence suggests that they were particularly dangerous or aggressive. Greek papyri from Egypt suggest that, instead of being utterly removed from the Greek world, some of the Trogodytes served and received payments from the Hellenistic monarchs in the third century .⁷³ What was more dangerous must have been the harsh and inhospitable environment of the desert, which its inhabitants had come to ⁶⁶ On Pan, see Launey (1987), 933–6 (on Pan’s military associations), 983–5 (on Pan and Min), 1016–18 (on hunters); Borgeaud (1988), esp. ch. 3, 59–60, on Pan’s associated landscape; Garland (1992), ch. 2; Parker (1996), 163–8. See also Bernand (1977) on Pan in deserts of Egypt. ⁶⁷ CPI 566 = I.Kanais, no. 2. ⁶⁸ I.Kanais, no. 42; I.Jud. Egypt, no. 121. This was engraved by a Jew, who wrote ‘praise of the god’ (θεοῦ εὐλογία), meaning the Jewish god rather than Pan. ⁶⁹ CPI 548 = I.Kanais, no. 9bis. See also no. 140: περὶ σωτηρίας. ⁷⁰ I.Kanais, nos. 3 (= CPI 567), 13 (Crete), 18, 43 (= CPI 550, Perge), 44, 47, 60 (Cyrene), 61, 62 (Lycia), 82, 90. The dedicators’ background is diverse; I indicate in parenthesis their provenance where it is mentioned. Most of these come from the Ptolemaic period according to Bernand’s dating. ⁷¹ CPI 550 = I.Kanais, no. 43, with pl. 40, 1. ⁷² Bernand in I.Kanais, no. 43, p. 110: ‘un personnage à barbiche, qui paraît ligoté’. ⁷³ On the Trogodytes, see Diod. Sic. 3.14.6–15.1, 3.32–5; Strabo 16.4.17, 776, 17.1.2, 786, 17.1.53, 819. See also Jahn (1948), RE VII.A, s.v. Trogodytai; Householder and Prakken (1945), 111; Casson (1989), 98–9 (99 on papyri).

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symbolize. When the Greeks wrote σωθεὶς/σωθέντες ἀπὸ Τρωγοδυτῶν, they were perhaps referring not to ‘deliverance from (the hands of ) the (dangerous) Trogodytes’, but ‘safe return from (the land of ) the Trogodytes’. This is comparable to an expression in another text addressed to Pan, ‘who saved me from the land of the Trogodytes’ (ὃ̣ς̣ δ̣ι̣έσωισεν Τρωγο̣δ̣υτῶν με [ἐκ] γῆς).⁷⁴ The hope of safe passage through the desert is reflected in Pan’s recurrent epithet Euodos (‘of good road’), which far outnumbers his other title Soter in the graffiti. The god who granted a smooth journey to desert travellers was essentially one who protected them. Euodos and Soter, therefore, are different ways of expressing a similar concern. However, Pan’s saving power was not limited to safe passage through the desert. In the most elaborate text of this dossier, after thanking Pan for safety in the land of the Trogodytes, the dedicators further thanked the god for saving them when they went off course in the Red Sea, sending a breeze to their ships, and bringing them to the harbour of Ptolemais.⁷⁵ To most travellers the distinction between land and sea travel was probably thin and unimportant; here it seems that every good fortune during the long journey to Egypt was attributed to Pan. Melanias’ graffito cited earlier is one of the few which use the epithet Soter of Pan. Pan Soter features again in two other graffiti, both of which concern Didymarchos son of Eumelos from Perge. He also left a third graffito in which Pan is twice invoked without epithets. Written in highly irregular handwriting and betraying inaccuracies in Greek, Didymarchos’ texts were scratched in various places outside the temple:⁷⁶ Πανὶ Σωτῆρι Διδύμαρχος Εὐμήλου Περγαῖος

Παννὶ Σοέρι Διδύμαρχος Εὐμήλου Περγαῖος ἧχον

Διδύμαρχος Εὐμήλου Περγαῖος ἧχον
Πάν, Πάν.

To Pan Soter Didymarchos son of Eumelos of Perge.

To Pan Soter (I) Didymarchos son of Eumelos of Perge I came.

(I) Didymarchos son of Eumelos of Perge I came. Pan. Pan.

Didymarchos seems to have journeyed through the desert several times. On more than one occasion he left a graffito as he passed by the shrine, in hope and gratitude for the god’s protection. Other individuals indicated their repeated visits

⁷⁴ CPI 563 = I.Kanais, no. 8. ⁷⁵ CPI 563 = I.Kanais, no. 8. ⁷⁶ I.Kanais, nos. 25, 39, 40. The form ἧχον seems to signify ἧκον.

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to the shrine by such words as τὸ δεύτερον and τρίτον.⁷⁷ One of the graffiti is restored to read ‘safely returned [from the Trogodyt]es, a return favour [to Pan] for the thir[d time]’ (σωθεὶς [ἐκ Τρο]γοδυτῶ[ν, Πανὶ χά]ρις τρί[τον]).⁷⁸ It would seem, then, that the soteria offered by the god was short-lived and time-limited; worshippers had to renew their prayers and thanks, as if to reactivate the god’s saving power even in similar situations.⁷⁹ These humble graffiti were much easier to repeat than expensive dedications; they offer us a glimpse of how individuals might invoke the gods for soteria on multiple occasions of a very similar nature. In other spheres of life, it must have been just as common to repeat one’s prayers for soteria and to perpetuate a continuous cycle of charis between man and gods.

3.4 Elephant-Hunting One of the individuals in the El-Kanais dossier identified himself as a worker or carpenter (τέκτων) who took part in the hunting of elephants. His graffito is accompanied by a charming drawing of an elephant (Fig. 3), and reads ‘Dorion, a carpenter, part of those with Eumedes, having marched up for the hunting of elephants, I returned safely to Egypt’.⁸⁰ Dorion appears to have served the Greek general Eumedes, who was sent to the hunt by Ptolemy II Philadelphus and founded the Hellenistic city of Ptolemais Theron (‘of the Hunts’) on the western coast of the Red Sea.⁸¹ He might have accompanied Eumedes’ elephant-hunting expeditions outside Egypt, where he probably had to build structures in hunting stations to accommodate both the hunting parties and the elephants, and to safeguard his team from the wild animals. In this context, the ‘safety’ he attained might have had various aspects: not just safe return to Egypt, but also protection from the potentially harmful animals, and safe passage through the Red Sea and the eastern desert. Dorion did not attribute his safety to Pan or any other god; his text reads more like a commemoration of his own role and safety attained. Later in the third century , on the island of Philai in the Nile, we find an altar addressed to the ‘saviour gods’ (theoi soteres), including Isis, Sarapis, Harpocrates, and Ammon,

⁷⁷ τὸ δεύτερον: I.Kanais, no. 49 (possibly same dedicators as in no. 48); τρίτον: I.Kanais, nos. 24, 73 (same dedicator as in no. 24?), 87, 90. Note also [σ]ωθε̣ὶ̣[ς] πάλιν in no. 72, which can be interpreted as ‘safely returned again’ or ‘safely got back’. ⁷⁸ I.Kanais, no. 90. ⁷⁹ Cf. Bernand in I.Kanais, no. 25, who suggests that Didymarchos, by leaving a greater number of texts, probably wanted to make up for the fact that he could not engrave his name in the temple itself. ⁸⁰ CPI 548 = I.Kanais, no. 9bis, with pl. 54.1: Δωρίων τέκτων, τῶν μετ᾽ Εὐμήδου ἀναζεύξας ἐπὶ τὴν θήραν τῶν ἐλεϕάντων καὶ ἐσώθην εἰς Αἴγυπτον. ⁸¹ Eumedes and the foundation of Ptolemais Theron: Strabo 16.4.7, 770; Cohen (2006), 341–2; Müller (2006), 192–9, with appendix ii. On elephant-hunting by the Ptolemies, see Scullard (1974), 123–45, Casson (1993), Burstein (1996), and further bibliography in Cohen (2006), 342 n. 2.

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Fig. 3 Graffito by Dorion in El-Kanais, early Ptolemaic period (after Weigall 1909, pl. 31; Bernand, I.Kanais, pl. 54.1).

‘for the soteria of elephants’ (ὑπὲρ [τ]ῆς τῶν ἐλεϕάντων σωτηρίας̣).⁸² The expression presents an interesting ambiguity: was this a prayer ‘for safety from (potentially dangerous) elephants’ or ‘for safety of elephants (from potential dangers)’?⁸³ By analogy with Dorion’s graffito, might the dedicator(s) have been involved in the hunting and/or conveyance of elephants outside Egypt, and sailed along the Nile while bringing the animals homeward to the king? Some scholars have connected this text to the battle of Raphia in 217 , in which African elephants were employed by Ptolemy IV in significant numbers against Antiochos’ Asian ones. On this interpretation, the elephants were probably needed to support the war effort. Depending on the precise dating of the altar in relation to the battle, ‘soteria of the elephants’ could mean the safe arrival of the elephants,⁸⁴ their preservation during the battle, and/or their continued well-being after the war so that they might remain useful in future combats. The intensity of the concern for soteria is reflected in both the prayer hyper soterias and the epithet soteres, here referring collectively to Isis, Sarapis, Harpocrates, and Ammon. Various other

⁸² CPI 450 = I.Thèbes Syène, no. 309, with pl. 149, 3. Date: second half of the third century , c.217 . The stone is broken after line 3, and the missing part might have contained the name(s) of the dedicator(s). ⁸³ Nachtergael (1982), 179, entertains both possibilities, but Bernand in I.Thèbes Syène, no. 309 and Bricault (1999), 339–40, prefer the latter. ⁸⁴ Connection to Raphia: Roccati (1981), no. 6; Bricault (1999). The transport of elephants was prone to hazards such as shipwreck and drowning: see e.g. Scullard (1974), 131–2; Casson (1993), 257.

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inscriptions in Egypt also refer to Isis and Sarapis as theoi soteres; here the title extends to Isis’ son Harpocrates and to Ammon.⁸⁵

3.5 Crops and Animals In antiquity farming and animal rearing were no less risky and unpredictable than warfare and seafaring. In the last chapter we have already seen communal sacrifices, prayers, and festivals regularly conducted by Greek poleis for soteria of crops and livestock. Communal rituals aside, individual farmers and pastoralists did not forget to beseech the gods for protection of their crops and animals, which constituted their most valuable possessions. One individual in Thrace dedicated a marble relief depicting someone offering a sacrifice; it was addressed to Apollo (without epithet) ‘for his own well-being and his vines at Akra (or on hilltop)’ (ὑπὲρ τῆς ἑαυτοῦ σωτηρίας καὶ τῶν ἰδίων ἀμπέλων ἐπὶ ἄκραν).⁸⁶ Another farmer, in Mysia, dedicated to Zeus Soter and Heracles ‘for his [crops and] grains’.⁸⁷ Zeus Soter is again the recipient of a thank-offering from someone who had vowed ‘on behalf of his oxen’, and is depicted as holding a sceptre in one hand in the relief.⁸⁸ A shepherd in Roman Phrygia honoured Zeus Alsenos with a votive relief ‘for the well-being of his sheep’ (ὑπὲρ προβάτων σωτηρίας).⁸⁹ Another prayed to Hypsistos ‘for the well-being of his oxen and all his private affairs (or all his family members)’ (ὑπὲρ βοῶν̣ σωτηρ̣ίας κὲ [τ]ῶν ἰδί[ων π]άντων [Ὑψ]ίστω εὐχ̣ [ήν]).⁹⁰ Although a vow is sometimes mentioned, these offerings do not appear to have concerned animals recovering from sickness, but are more probably associated with the herd’s general well-being and healthy growth. The original prayers are likely to have been precautionary. These prayers were often combined with the well-being of the dedicator’s family or other groups. In Iuliopolis in Bithynia, for instance, we find a stone altar for ‘the best and greatest god, who listens to prayers, saviour of himself, his children, and all his oxen’ (Θεῷ ἀρίστῳ μεγίστῳ ἐπη|κόῳ σωτῆρι ἑαυτοῦ κ̣αὶ τῶν τέκνων αὐτοῦ καὶ πάντων τῶν [βο]|ῶν Κάττιο̣ς̣ Τέργος εὐχήν). Here the genitive qualifying soter is another way of expressing the more common formula ‘for the soteria of himself, his children, and all his oxen’. The other side of this altar bears

⁸⁵ Isis and Sarapis as theoi soteres: the documents are conveniently collected in Bricault (1999). Artem. 2.39 refers to Sarapis, Isis, Anubis, and Harpocrates as soteres of men in peril, but does not specify in which contexts. ⁸⁶ IGBulg I² 374. It is unclear whether ἐπὶ ἄκραν contains a toponym (‘at Akra’) or whether it should be taken literally (‘on hilltop’). Dunst ap. IGBulg I², ad loc.: ‘Man vermisst eine Stellungnahme zu ΕΠΙΑΚΡΑΝ’. ⁸⁷ Wiegand (1904), 301. ⁸⁸ IGBulg III 1805, pl. 153 (Hadrianopolis, undated). ⁸⁹ Phrygian Votive Steles, no. 336. ⁹⁰ MAMA V 212. The identity of (Theos) Hypsistos is disputed: see Mitchell (1999); Belayche (2011); Parker (2017a), 124–9.

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an epigram ending with the prayer ‘may you care for him, for his children, an[d for his pro]perty (presumably his livestock)’ (σοὶ δ᾽ αὐτός τε μέλοι τέκνα τε κα[ὶ κτέ]ανα). We are not told explicitly who his saviour is, but Zeus seems the most likely candidate.⁹¹ Zeus is again invoked, this time under a local epithet, in a dedication in the village of Nakoleia in Phrygia: a couple honoured Zeus Bronton (‘Thundering’) ‘for the soteria of themselves, their private affairs (or family members), their crops, and their village’ (περὶ ἑαυτῶ̣[ν] κὲ τῶν ἰδίων κὲ τ[ῶν] κα̣ρ̣πῶν κ̣(ὲ) τῆς [κώ]μ̣ης σωτη̣ρ̣ί̣α̣ς̣).⁹² Bronton is a very common epithet of Zeus in Phrygia. This is an interesting instance of individuals including the well-being of their village community in their private prayers. Variously invoked as Soter or under other local epithets, Zeus was popular among farmers: members of agricultural communities turned to their local Zeus for agrarian protection as they did for other kinds of needs, and his control over the weather and, by extension, over nature made him an appropriate object of worship. These humble and often crudely fashioned dedications bring our attention back from high-ranking officials and military and naval commanders to average individuals, who depended on the gods for the protection of their livelihood and preservation of their vulnerable possessions. These private dedications for the soteria of crops and animals are concentrated in Asia Minor, especially Roman Phrygia, where it was a more common practice to record such prayers on stone.⁹³ But their rarity in other parts of the Greek world by no means suggests that similar prayers were absent or any less important elsewhere. Across Greek societies where farming and animal husbandry constituted the main source of livelihood, many more farmers, shepherds, and goatherds must have similarly beseeched the gods for the well-being of their crops and animals but have left no traces in our epigraphic records.

3.6 Wealth When individuals prayed for the soteria of their crops and livestock, they were essentially praying for economic security and prosperity. It should come as no surprise that soteria could relate to wealth in Greek antiquity, if we think of poverty as one of the banes of life from which individuals hoped to be delivered.⁹⁴

⁹¹ Marek (2000), 129–35, with photo = SEG L 1222 (Iuliopolis, second to third century ). Marek thinks that it must refer to Zeus: the description as ‘the best and greatest god’ naturally suits Zeus, and two dedications to Zeus Sarnendenos are found nearby. ⁹² MAMA V 220; cf. a similar prayer in MAMA V 218. ⁹³ See the excellent discussion in Schuler (2012), 63–100 (80–1 on individuals praying for their village communities), with very useful appendices on dedications for crops and/or livestock. ⁹⁴ This is the theme of various Greek epigrams: e.g. Gow–Page, HE, Callimachus XXVIII = Anth. Pal. 6.301, doubtless a literary exercise, shows someone σωθεὶς ἐξ ἁλός dedicating to the Samothracian gods; he was not ‘saved from the sea’, but ‘saved by means of a salt-cellar’, as he escaped (ἐκϕεύγω) his debt by eating salt alone. Other epigrams use the word ἐρύομαι in relation to poverty: Gow–Page, HE,

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      

A scene in Aristophanes’ Ecclesiazusae shows a speaker coming forward in the assembly naked, saying that he is in need of ‘four staters’ worth of soteria’ himself, meaning his material well-being: he must be living in dire poverty and needs a cloak weighing four staters. He goes on to propose how fullers should supply warm cloaks to those in need, as a way of saving the polis and its citizens.⁹⁵ When the priest in Aristophanes’ Wealth complains that people no longer sacrifice to Zeus Soter ‘because they are all rich’, the implication is that they used to cultivate Zeus Soter for material security or prosperity. According to Chremylus at the beginning of the play, Zeus rules over the world because he has the most silver, and people sacrifice to him in the hope of getting a share.⁹⁶ Outside the theatre, however, the relationship between ‘saviour’ gods and wealth is more difficult to find in the sources; the closest we come are the prayers to Zeus Soter for crops and animals seen earlier.⁹⁷ Instead of Soter, other epithets of Zeus relate more explicitly to this aspect of the god, such as Ktesios (‘of Property’), Olbios (‘of Prosperity’), Meilichios (‘Kindly’), Karpodotes (‘Giver of crops’), and Ploutodotes (‘Giver of riches’).⁹⁸ Perhaps also relevant in this respect is the catch-all formulae ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας πάντων τῶν ἰδίων and ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας αὑτοῦ καὶ τῶν ἰδίων (or similar), which can refer to all personal matters (including personal possessions) or family members or both.⁹⁹

3.7 Health and Healing To the vast majority of ordinary Greeks, the most relevant and essential form of soteria must have been their physical well-being, whether it was preservation of health or restoration to good health. Since his arrival in mainland Greece in the fifth century , Asclepius became the most popular god overseeing health and healing, and was performing this function before he acquired the epithet Soter. His saving power is already evident in one of the earliest votive dedications he received on the south slope of the Athenian acropolis. There an individual set up a Leonidas XXXVI = Anth. Pal. 6.300 (ὡς ἐκ νούσου ἀνειρύσω, ὧδε καὶ ἐχθρῆς / ἐκ πενίης ῥύσῃ); Gow– Page, GP, Philip XXI = Anth. Pal. 6.231 (εἰ δ᾽ ὡς ἐκ πελάγους ἐρρύσαο Δᾶμιν, ἄνασσα, / κἠκ πενίης); Page, FGE, Cornelius Longus I = Anth. Pal. 6.191 (ὡς νούσου, ῥύεο καὶ πενίης). ⁹⁵ Ar. Ecc. 412–17: ὁρᾶτε μέν με δεόμενον σωτηρίας τετραστατήρου καὐτόν. Instead of taking this as comic exaggeration, Sommerstein (1998), ad loc., infers that many ordinary Athenians were deprived of their basic necessities when Athens was in a desperate state in the early years of the fourth century. ⁹⁶ Ar. Plut. 130ff., 1178–84. ⁹⁷ But see a dedicatory epigram IG II/III³ 4, 1362 (Athens, fourth century ), in which the dedicator prays to the goddess (presumably Athena, without epithet) to ‘preserve (σῶιζε) his wealth’. ⁹⁸ Some of these epithets are attested alongside Soter: e.g. Ricl (2009), 188 (Zeus Soter Karpodotes, unpublished text); Ramsay (1890), 235 (Διὶ Μεγίστῳ Καρποδότῃ Σ[ω]τῆρι Ὀλυνπίῳ); Jones (2014), no. 6, with pls 6–7 ([Θεῷ] ὀλβίῳ ἐπηκόῳ καὶ σωτῆρι) (most probably Zeus). But these epithets are not exclusive to Zeus: e.g. CMRDM I, no. 142 (Μηνὶ Σωτῆρι καὶ Πλουτοδώτηι) (most probably one god rather than two); I.Delta I, pp. 925–8, no. 1 = SB 5863 (Σαράπιδι Διονύσωι, Ἴσιδι Ἀϕροδίτηι, θεοῖς σωτῆρσι καὶ πολυϕόροις). ⁹⁹ e.g. IGBulg V 5578, 5587; I.Stratonikeia 1118; MAMA V 10, 129, 221; IGLS IV 1322–7.

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Fig. 4 Votive relief dedicated to Asclepius, from the south slope of the Athenian Acropolis, first half of the fourth century  (NM 1341, © Acropolis Museum, 2012, photo by Socratis Mavrommatis).

relief of Pentelic marble, showing Asclepius and his family on the left, approached by a man who has his right hand raised and is almost touching the arm of the god. Wearing a short chiton and a conical hat (pilos), the man is followed by a wagon drawn by two horses or mules (Fig. 4). These attributes may suggest that he was a wagoner or manual labourer working outdoors. The relief is not a stock portrait, but appears to have been specially commissioned to reflect the dedicator’s circumstance. The fragmentary verse inscription mentions some ‘mighty rocks’ and that he was ‘saved’ (σωθές). Had the dedicator, along with his cart and animals, narrowly escaped from large rocks rolling down a hill slope in a landslide? Or was his wagon toppled when transporting stones, himself seriously injured, and was restored to health by Asclepius? Much of his cart is missing in the surviving part of the relief, and we may wonder if it was represented as loaded with stones on the latter interpretation. The ‘shrine’ in the last line probably refers to the Asclepieum in Athens, to which he was now bringing an offering to express his thanks before the god.¹⁰⁰ Though the slab of Pentelic marble was small, it must have involved considerable expense for a wagoner who earned a living by manual labour.¹⁰¹ This is only one example among others which testify to Asclepius’ saving power

¹⁰⁰ IG II/III² 4356 = IG II/III³ 4, 672 (first half of the fourth century). NM 1341+ EM 8754 + Acr. Mus. 7988; LIMC II.1 s.v. Asklepios, no. 395 (end of fifth century); Kaltsas (2007), 325. ¹⁰¹ Pilos was usually worn by artisans, fishermen, sailors, outdoor workers, and travellers. The heavy cross-barred wheel and the animals’ crude features and resemblances to mules lead Beschi (1969–70), 85–93, to suggest that a farm cart is depicted.

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      

without using Soter as his cult epithet.¹⁰² It is not until much later, from the late Hellenistic period on, that it became more common to call upon Asclepius Soter for reasons which we shall discuss in the next chapter.¹⁰³ In the Hellenistic and Roman periods Isis gained prominence in Greece and had close links with healing. She seems to have intervened in a similar accident in Ras El-Soda situated east of Alexandria in Egypt. There a rectangular marble column is found in situ and conspicuously positioned at the entrance of a small temple of Roman date; it is crowned with a marble foot in a sandal and tells the dedicator’s experience in verse (Figs 5a–b): ῥιϕθεὶς ἐξ ἵππων ἀπ᾽ ὀχήματος ἔνθ᾽ Ἰσίδωρος / σωθεὶς ἀντὶ ποδῶν θῆκεν ἴχνος μάκαρι.

Fig. 5a Marble column set up by Isidoros in Ras El-Soda, Roman imperial period (BAAM, inv. 25788, © Bibliotheca Alexandrina Antiquities Museum, photo by Mohamed Mounir).

¹⁰² Other Classical dedications to Asclepius which use the language of ‘saving’ are e.g. IG II/III² 4368 = IG II/III³ 4, 700 (μέγας σωτήρ, but soter is here not an epithet); CEG 755 = IG II/IIII³ 4, 718 (δεινὰ παθὼν καὶ πολλὰ [ἰ]δὼν σωθείς). See also Parker (1996), 183 n. 109. ¹⁰³ See Chapter 4.

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Fig. 5b Marble foot at the top of Isidoros’ marble column (BAAM, inv. 25789, © Bibliotheca Alexandrina Antiquities Museum, photo by Mohamed Mounir). Thrown from his horses from his carriage at this spot, Isidoros, having been saved, in return for his feet dedicated (this) foot to the blessed one.¹⁰⁴

Isidoros’ horses had probably lost control, flung their master off his carriage and crashed it, leaving him seriously injured in his legs. Yet with divine help he miraculously recovered the use of his feet, and in gratitude he set up this marble foot at the very spot where he had the accident. Who was ‘the blessed one’ who saved him? Isis seems highly probable given her healing power, and her cult statue was the largest among several others found inside the temple.¹⁰⁵ It is interesting that the dedicator was called Isidoros (literally ‘Gift of Isis’): might he be more inclined towards Isis given his name, even if he must have acquired it before the ¹⁰⁴ Bibliotheca Alexandrina Antiquities Museum, inv. 25789. Adriani (1940), 145–8, pl. LIV, with BE (1950), no. 223; Adriani (1961), series A, II, no. 188; I.Egypte métriques, no. 109. The temple is discussed in Naerebout (2006), esp. 123–4. On horse- or carriage-related accidents, see also IG IV².1 122.95–101; Robert (1955), 279–81. ¹⁰⁵ Adriani (1961) and Bernand in I.Egypte métriques suggested Isis, but Guarducci (1967–78), vol. 3, 74–5, preferred Sarapis. Petridou (2009), 86–7, leaves both possibilities open.

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incident and probably did not choose it himself?¹⁰⁶ The goddess might have been depicted in the bust once affixed to the top of the marble foot. Foot-shaped monuments are generally thought to represent the foot or epiphania of Isis or Sarapis,¹⁰⁷ but in the present instance the reference is ambiguous; it can be interpreted as both the foot of the divinity and that of the worshipper. It is not until the late Hellenistic and Roman periods that Asclepius was increasingly attested under the title of Soter, so much so that it became almost a standard way of referring to the god. One late example concerns a freedman in Rome, who was cured of a tumour in his spleen: Ἀσκληπιῷ θε[ῷ] μ̣εγίστῳ [σ]ωτῆ[ρι] εὐε̣ρ̣[γ]έτῃ ὄνχο[ν] σπληνὸς σωθεὶς ἀ̣πὸ σῶν χιρῶν ο̣ὗ τόδε δ̣ῖγμα ἀργ̣ ύρεον εὐχαριστ[ή]ρ̣ιον θεῷ Νεοχάρ[ης] [Σ]εβαστο [ῦ ἀπ]ελ[εύ][θ]ερος Ἰουλιαν[ός]. To Asclepius, greatest god, saviour and benefactor, saved by your hands from a tumour of the spleen, of which this was silver model, a thank-offering to the god, Neochares Ioulianos, freedman of an emperor (dedicated).¹⁰⁸

The silver representation of a spleen (now lost) is comparable to anatomical ex-votos found elsewhere in the Greek world.¹⁰⁹ It is intended to give thanks for the cure effected on the one hand, and to put the organ under the god’s continuous protection on the other. Asclepius is again the ‘saviour’ in another dedication, at Lebena on Crete: δοιούς σοι Διόδωρος ἐθήκατο, Σῶτερ, Ὀνείρους / ἀντὶ διπλῶν ὄσσων ϕωτὸς ἐπαυράμενος (‘Diodoros dedicated to you, Saviour, two Dreams in return for his two eyes, enjoying the benefit of light’).¹¹⁰ Instead of two eyes, Diodoros chose to depict two dreams (probably statues of the personified Dreams) presumably because he recovered his eyesight through treatment or instructions in dreams sent by Asclepius. It is not uncommon for dedicators to omit the name of the saviour god:¹¹¹ here the physical context of dedication, namely the sanctuary of Asclepius at Lebena, makes it unnecessary to identify him. In the imperial period Asclepius’ title ‘saviour’ came to be shared by Hygieia and other family members. An interesting instance is a statue base from Roman Epidaurus inscribed Λυσίμαχος τῇ ἐμαυτοῦ σωτείρῃ καὶ Τελεσϕόρῳ (‘Lysimachos

¹⁰⁶ On theophoric names, see Parker (2000). ¹⁰⁷ On this type of monument, see e.g. Dow and Upson (1944); Castiglione (1971); Puccio (2010). ¹⁰⁸ IGUR I 105 (c.  150–200). ¹⁰⁹ Representations of internal organs were rare in ancient Greece, but more common in central Italy. On anatomical ex-votos, see Rouse (1902), 211ff.; Roebuck (1951); Van Straten (1981), esp. 100–1, with appendix; Forsén (1996); Forsén (2004) (with further bibliography). ¹¹⁰ I.Cret. I, xvii, no. 24 (third century ); Melfi (2007), appendix I, no. 43. Asclepius’ connection with Dream (Oneiros) and Sleep (Hypnos) is mentioned in Paus. 2.10.2. ¹¹¹ e.g. IG XII Suppl. 209 (Paros), 433 (Thasos). See Chapter 4.4, on unnamed Soter and Soteira.

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Fig. 6 Marble statuette of Hygieia set up by Lysimachos in Epidaurus, Roman imperial period (NM 272, Sculpture Collection, National Archaeological Museum).

to my Soteira and to Telesphorus’).¹¹² Lysimachos did not make explicit who his saviouress was; it would have been obvious to visitors to the shrine since his text accompanied a marble statue of Hygieia, in the form of a maiden standing with a snake draped around her shoulders (Fig. 6). Lysimachos must have set up this statue in her honour after the goddess effected a cure. The remarkable phrase ἐμαυτοῦ σώτειρα (‘my saviouress’) emphasizes his personal relation with his saviour goddess, though it may be an alternative expression to the more usual ‘the goddess who saved me’. Lysimachos’ dedication may be compared to a stone column found near River Meles at Smyrna, inscribed with an iambic couplet: Ὑμνῶ θεὸν Μέλητα ποταμόν, τὸν σωτῆρά μου, παντὸς δὲ λοιμοῦ καὶ κακοῦ πεπαυμένου (‘I sing of the god Meles the river, saviour of me, who was spared from every plague and ill’).¹¹³ Instead of saving the dedicator from drowning, what is referred to is the healing power of water; the loimos and kakon were physical rather than metaphorical. It should become clear from these instances that the title ¹¹² IG IV².1 570; NM 272; LIMC V.1 s.v. Hygieia, no. 120; Stampolidis and Tassoulas (2014), 208–10, no. 73. ¹¹³ I.Smyrna 766 = Steinepigramme 05/01/02 (probably second century ); Herzog (1934), 18–19, attributed this to Aelius Aristides; Bowie (1989), 220. On cults of rivers, see Bremmer (2019).

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      

Soter/Soteira was by no means limited to the major Olympian gods: it was the power to save rather than the identity or status of a divine being which determined whether Soter/Soteira was a suitable title. These two inscriptions are noteworthy for the extremely rare statements of close personal relationship they provide between an individual and a protective god. Compared to some other religious cultures, it was unusual in Greek religion to have a personal saviour or to address a god as ‘my saviour’; where exceptionally attested, the isolated instances tend to relate to healing.¹¹⁴ Even though major health crises might prompt personal expressions of gratitude to the gods, we must not be distracted by these instances and think that ‘saviour’ gods only or mainly intervened in illness or injuries. Many other prayers, sacrifices, and dedications hyper soterias of oneself and/or one’s family to Asclepius and sometimes Hygieia, with or without the epithet Soter/Soteira, might have been about maintaining the individuals’ existing physical well-being. This aspect is less readily discernible in our epigraphic evidence, but can be inferred especially from cases where many individuals were named (they are unlikely all to be ill at once).¹¹⁵

3.8 Childbirth Childbirth must have been fraught with dangers in antiquity, yet it is difficult to find divinities explicitly called ‘saviours’ in this sphere of life. Instead of Asclepius,¹¹⁶ women would more often turn to Artemis and Eileithyia for a safe delivery. Artemis’ role in safe labour is a frequent motif in Greek epigrams. One epigram refers to Artemis as ‘soother of birth-pangs’ (ὠδίνων μειλίχος), others invoke the goddess to ‘release’ the dedicator from her ‘birth-pangs’ (λύσουσ᾽ ὠδίνων).¹¹⁷ After women were ‘freed from the burden and pain of difficult travail’ (δυσωδίνοιο γενέθλας ἀργαλέον . . . ϕυγοῦσα βάρος), it was common practice for them to dedicate to Artemis items of their clothing as thank-offerings.¹¹⁸ In one epigram, for instance, Artemis or Eileithyia (or Artemis Eileithyia?) is described as κουροσόος (‘saviour of children’), and received from a woman various of her accessories as ὠδίνων ῥύσια (from ῥύεσθαι ‘to save’, ῥύσιος/-ον ‘saving’), meaning ¹¹⁴ A further example is Bataille (1951), no. 120, where Asclepius, Amenothes, and Hygieia are referred to in a graffito as ὑμῶν σωτῆρες (Thebes in Egypt, first to second century ). On ‘personal gods’, see Parker (2017a), 83, 121–2. ¹¹⁵ e.g. IGBulg IV 2350 (ὑπὲρ τῆς ἑαυτοῦ σωτηρίας καὶ συνβίου καὶ τέκνων θεῷ Ἀσκληπ̣ιῷ̣ [δ]ῶ̣ρον); SEG XXXIII 540 (Κυρίῳ Ἀσκληπιῷ Σωτῆρι . . . ὑπὲρ τῆς ἑαυτῶν σωτηρίας δῶρον). ¹¹⁶ Even though Asclepius could also help with pregnancy and delivery as some Epidaurian iamata show: e.g. IG IV².1 121.3–22, 122.60–3. ¹¹⁷ Gow–Page, HE, Leonidas I, Nissia XII = Anth. Pal. 6.202, 273; Gow–Page, GP, Crinagoras IX = Anth. Pal. 6.242. Cf. Gow–Page, GP, Adaeus VIII = Anth. Pal. 9.303, which relates how Artemis ‘saved’ or ‘preserved’ (σώζειν) dogs in labour. ¹¹⁸ Gow–Page, HE, Perses II = Anth. Pal. 6.272.

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‘an offering for deliverance from the pain of childbirth’.¹¹⁹ There is therefore no lack of related words for expressing the goddess’s function in granting a safe delivery. However, even though she was the most popular Soteira in other spheres of life, Artemis is curiously never attested under this epithet in this context. One wonders whether the goddess’s darker side was seen to outweigh her positive influence in this respect: despite her power to save women in labour as alluded to by Callimachus,¹²⁰ she was also an archer whose arrows could cause deaths when these occurred.¹²¹ Much later, in the Roman imperial period, a woman set up a marble statue on a base thus inscribed: Βλαυθία Ἀλεξάνδρου ὑπὲρ ἑαυτῆς Εἰλειθυίῃ σωζούσῃ ἐπισωζούσῃ εὐχήν (‘Blauthia daughter of Alexandros, on behalf of herself, to Eileithyia Sozousa Episozousa (in fulfilment of ) a vow’).¹²² What remains today is the lower half of the statue of a female figure, which could have represented either the goddess or Blauthia. Eileithyia was a specialist in childbirth who assisted women in labour,¹²³ and probably did not need the epithet Soteira to exercise this function. This is a rare epigraphic attestation of Eileithyia as a ‘saviour’ goddess.¹²⁴ The vow may suggest that Blauthia had promised a statue to the goddess in the event of a successful delivery and had her prayer answered, but it is puzzling that the child is not mentioned: she was fulfilling the vow ‘on behalf of herself ’. The major interest of this text lies in Eileithyia’s double epithets σωζούσα ἐπισωζούσα, literally ‘Saving’ and ‘Continuing to Save’. Not otherwise attested in the Greek world, the idiosyncratic form ἐπισωζούσα seems to have been fashioned by adding to the present participle σωζούσα the prefix ἐπί, which has the force of ‘in addition to’.¹²⁵ While σωζούσα commemorates the dedicator’s safety during a recent childbirth, ἐπισωζούσα expresses her hope for continued divine protection after the delivery and/or in a future pregnancy and delivery. In other words, the two epithets seem to concern two different aspects of divine saving, one looks to the past and another to the future. The present participles further have the effect of emphasizing the continuous protection of the goddess.

¹¹⁹ Gow–Page, HE, Perses III = Anth. Pal. 6.274. Gow–Page think that Artemis is meant, but Eileithyia seems to me equally probable. (Other) epigrams to Eileithyia in relation to childbirth are e.g. Gow–Page, HE, Callimachus XXIII, Leonidas XXXVIII, Nicias III = Anth. Pal. 6.146, 200, 270. ῥύσια: cf. an offering termed παυσιτοκεῖα in Gonnoi II, 190–1, no. 175 bis, and possibly another termed λυσίπονα in SEG LVI 601. ¹²⁰ e.g. Callim. Hymn 3, lines 20–3. ¹²¹ Hom. Il. 21.483–4. Cf. Hom. Il. 6.205, 428, Od. 11.172–3, 198–9. ¹²² IG II/III³ 4, 1152 (provenance disputed: Athens or Paros?); EM 5291; Pingiatoglou (1981), 65, 159, E 42, with pl. 18.1. ¹²³ As in Hymn. Hom. Ap. 97–116; Hdt. 4.33–5. ¹²⁴ But see Orph. Hymn 2, where Eileithyia (associated with Prothyraia and Artemis) is invoked as the ‘saviouress of women’ (line 3: θυλειῶν σώτειρα) and ‘saviouress of all’ (line 14: σώτειρα προπάντων), who freed women from the pains of labour (line 9: λύουσα πόνους; line 11: λυσιπήμων). ¹²⁵ LSJ s.v. ἐπί, LSJ Supplement, s.v. ἐπισῴζω. Cf. an epitaph in Peek, GVI 1148.15: σώιζουσα πολύστονος Εἰλείθυια.

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3.9 Household Though not attested explicitly as a ‘saviouress’ of women in labour, Artemis was worshipped as a protectress of private households in various parts of Greece. In Tegea a herm bearing the head of Artemis is inscribed Μεγιστὼ Ἀρτέμι Σωτείραι Ἐ̣νοκία[ι].¹²⁶ Otherwise not attested as an epithet, Enoikia (‘in the House’) here qualifies Artemis Soteira’s role as a protectress of household. This is comparable to Ἄρταμις Σώτειρα ἐπὶ τᾶς οἰκίας incised on a vase from Thera.¹²⁷ The original placement of the herm cannot be traced, but it was probably erected outside a house, as was another image of Artemis Soteira according to a Hellenistic epigram. The epigram commemorates the occasion when an individual erected an image of a torch-holding Artemis on his estate. Artemis is invoked under the double epithets Phosphoros Soteira, and asked to ‘give delightful light’ (χαρίεν ϕῶς δίδου) to the dedicator and his children, which is a metaphor for granting soteria in the sense of ‘protection’.¹²⁸ Another epigram addresses Artemis as ‘guardian of possessions and the field’ (ϕύλαξ κτεὰνων τε καὶ ἀγροῦ): the dedicator called upon the goddess to shoot thieves with her bow and to ‘protect her friends’ (σάου δὲ ϕίλους), in return for which he promised to sacrifice animals from his own herds. The protection being sought here extends over his property, his fields, and his livestock.¹²⁹ Although they might be literary exercises, these Hellenistic epigrams are very likely to reflect cultic practices in lived religion, where it must have been fairly common to invoke Artemis, with or without the epithet Soteira, as protectress of one’s land and property. Archaeological evidence also confirms Artemis Soteira’s role in domestic religion: found in situ in a niche of a private house on Delos was a Hellenistic marble base inscribed Σπόριος Στερτένιος Ἀρτέμιδι Σωτείραι (‘Spurius Stertinius to Artemis Soteira’). The statuette on top no longer survives, but another dedication (in a different place on Delos) by the same individual depicts Artemis Soteira holding two long torches and accompanied by a dog.¹³⁰ Might the missing statuette have represented Artemis Soteira similarly as bearing torches, which could bring light or soteria? Neither of Stertinius’ two dedications tells us anything more about his concerns, but the placement of Artemis’ image in a niche at home—instead of a shrine or public space for instance—strongly suggests protection of the household. Artemis’ protection of domestic dwellings and their entrances may be an extension of her usual function as a guardian of gateways: the related epithet Propylaios/Propylaia (‘Before the Gate’) is more common for this ¹²⁶ IG V.2 68 (second century ), with photo in Rhomaios (1912), 379–80, no. 10. ¹²⁷ Sigalas and Matthaiou (2004–9), no. 3. ¹²⁸ Gow–Page, HE, Diotimus I = Anth. Pal. 6.267. ¹²⁹ Gow–Page, HE, Theodoridas III = Anth. Pal. 6.157. Gow–Page think that the goddess is perhaps Artemis Soteira as in Diotimus I. ¹³⁰ I.Délos 2378–9 (late second or early first century ), with photos in Siebert (1966), figs 3–6. On Artemis Soteira on Delos, see Bruneau (1970), 203–5.

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function,¹³¹ but Artemis is also attested as Soteira in this context.¹³² Presiding over the margin between a domestic or civic space and the outside territory, once again the goddess was patrolling the boundary between the civilized and the wild, safety and danger.¹³³

3.10 Earthquake In the last chapter we have already seen how Greek communities appealed to Poseidon, Zeus, and other gods under various epithets for protection from earthquake. How, then, did individuals respond to earthquakes, and which gods did they choose as ‘saviour’? Interestingly it is again Zeus, rather than Poseidon, who dominated the evidence as ‘saviour’ when these occurred. In Anazarbos in Cilicia, one Menophilos set up an altar to ‘Zeus Soter, Poseidon Asphaleios (Securer), and Ge Hedraia (Steadfast)’ for his association or his local area.¹³⁴ Later in Byblos in Syria, a survivor ‘saved from earthquake’ thanked the god with a limestone altar: ‘To [Zeus S]aviour, Apollodoros son of Neikon, saved from earthquake, dedicated (this)’ ([Διὶ Σ]ω̣τῆρι Ἀπολλόδωρος Νείκωνο ἀπὸ σεισμοῦ διασωθεὶς ἀνέθηκεν). The name of the ‘saviour’ is no longer preserved, but Zeus is the most likely candidate given the space available and by analogy with many other dedications and sacrifices to him in similar circumstances.¹³⁵ Zeus was often invoked as ‘saviour’ in such occurrences probably in the general sense that, as the supreme god in the Greek pantheon, he exercised ultimate control over everything, including the trembling of the earth. Despite the three-fold division of the universe among Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades so often recounted in Greek poetry,¹³⁶ Zeus’ power is much more varied than we may think, and by no

¹³¹ On Propylaios/Propylaia, see Chapter 2 n. 31. ¹³² Marangou and Matthaiou (2010–13), no. 2 (Amorgos, date disputed): an altar to Artemis Soteira by someone who built a tower. Ashton (1995), 20, BI.3 (Megiste, third century ): statues of Apollo Pylaios (‘Before the Gate’) and Artemis Soteira by someone who built a gateway (πυλῶν). J. Robert and L. Robert in BE (1958), no. 460, thought that these statues in Megiste were probably set up in the niches of the πυλῶν. ¹³³ See structuralist interpretations of Artemis: Chapter 2 n. 58. ¹³⁴ I.Anazarbos 49 (first to second century ): Διὶ Σωτῆρι Ποσιδῶνος Ἀσϕαλείῳ Γῆς Ἑδραίας Μηνόϕιλος ὑπὲρ τῆς γιτνίας. Interestingly the inscription combines the dative and genitive cases. The last word γ(ε)ιτνία probably concerns ‘une association de quartier’ (BE (1954), no. 238) or ‘adjoining area’ (LSJ). Cf. similar epithets, used in varying configurations of the gods, in TAM II 403–4 (discussed in Chapter 2). ¹³⁵ Dussaud (1896), 299 (second to third century ). The stone is broken in the top left-hand corner where the theonym would have been written. Dussaud’s very plausible supplement [Διὶ Σ]ω̣τῆρι fits well the narrow space available and was accepted by Robert (1978a), 399 (95 in reprint). However, Alpi (2011) = SEG LXI 1390, proposes [Θεῷ Σ]ω̣τηρι and thinks that Poseidon is meant: Poseidon was prominent in Berytos, and this kind of limestone came from Berytos instead of Byblos. Other offerings to Zeus Soter in relation to earthquakes: see Chapter 2. ¹³⁶ e.g. Hom. Il. 15.187–93; Hes. Theog. 73–4, 881–5; Pind. Ol. 7.55; Apollod. Bibl. 1.2.1; Aristid. Or. 45.23, 46.8 Keil.

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means limited to control over the weather and celestial elements. The Orphic Hymns refer to Zeus, among his many other attributes, as seisichthon (‘earthshaker’) and pantotinaktes (‘all-shaker’).¹³⁷ Stability of the earth is usually the domain of Zeus’ brother Poseidon, but where this is concerned Poseidon is more often invoked under other epithets than Soter—not least Asphaleios (‘Securer’), Enosichthon (‘Earth-Shaker’), and Seisichthon (‘Earth-Shaker’).¹³⁸ Earlier in this chapter we have already come across Poseidon Asphaleios (alone) in the Athenian commander Soteles’ dedication on Icaros, and (alongside nine other divinities) in the Rhodian soldiers’ dedication on Tenos.¹³⁹ As the inscriptions by the Rhodians and Menophilos (quoted above) show, Poseidon Asphaleios often appeared alongside Zeus Soter but was not himself called ‘saviour’.¹⁴⁰ Often translated as ‘Securer’, Asphaleios consists of the negative prefix ἀ- and the transitive verb σϕάλλω (‘make to fall’). So the word literally means ‘not to cause to tumble’, that is, worshippers might be propitiating Poseidon not to shake the earth. A similar idea seems to be expressed by the combination of his epithets Enosichthon (‘Earth-Shaker’) and Soter. In the city of Gerasa in Syria, an individual dedicated to ‘Zeus Poseidon Enosichthon Soter’ for the soteria of the emperors.¹⁴¹ The god in question is Poseidon rather than Zeus: Poseidon’s power is being elevated by combination with the name of Zeus, to signify that Poseidon is a great god.¹⁴² This is a rare attestation of Poseidon Soter in relation to earthquake; interestingly, his double epithets Enosichthon Soter (‘Earth-Shaker, Saviour’) juxtapose his capacity to shake the earth as well as to contain it.¹⁴³ Might the dedicator be appealing to Poseidon not to cause tremors, or might the emperors have been recently delivered from one? Whatever the precise context of this dedication, Soter here seems to be used to counter or ward off the very danger Poseidon was capable of causing. Unfortunately none of the above dedicators tells how the gods saved them. A dedicatory epigram from Cos interestingly details the experience of a group of women who, while celebrating a religious rite, were interrupted by an earthquake.¹⁴⁴ The fragmentary text mentions how the son of Kronos shook the land ¹³⁷ Orph. Hymn. 15.8. See also Thély (2016), 34–42, on Zeus’ relation to earthquakes. ¹³⁸ On Seisichthon and other epithets of Poseidon in relation to earthquake, see e.g. I.Tralleis 1, a Delphic oracle given to a priest of Zeus ‘on the safety of the polis’ (ὑπὲρ τῆς σωτηρίας πόλεως). ¹³⁹ I.Estremo Oriente, no. 418 (Icaros); IG XII.5 913 (Tenos). ¹⁴⁰ Poseidon Asphaleios alongside Zeus Soter: e.g. IG XII.5 913 (Tenos); I.Anazarbos 49 (Anazarbos); see also Meritt (1935), no. 1 (Colophon). ¹⁴¹ I.Gerasa, no. 39 (second century ): [ὑπὲρ σ]ωτηρίας Σεβαστων Διὶ Ποσειδῶνι Ἐνοσίχθονι σωτῆρι Ἀντίοχος Γαΐου ἀνήγειρεν. ¹⁴² A similar process is at work in ‘Zeus Soter Asclepius’ in AvP VIII.3, no. 63 (in n. 59 above). This phenomenon is discussed in Parker (2017b). ¹⁴³ For similar juxtapositions, cf. Zeus Aitherios Soter in I.Milet VI.3 1248; Zeus Keraunios Soter in I.Milet VI.3 1257; Zeus Chalazios Soter in Hasluck (1904), 21–3, no. 4. These are discussed in Chapter 2. ¹⁴⁴ The cult of Demeter is well attested on Cos: see Sherwin-White (1978), 305–12; Paul (2013), 72–9.

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of Meropes three times when they were celebrating the sacred rites (teletai) of Demeter, whereupon one Aischron led them in prayer to Demeter Soteira, and this stilled the trembling of the earth. In commemoration of this Aischron brought the present dedication to Demeter and possibly Kore under the title of Soteira.¹⁴⁵ Tantalizingly fragmentary, this is nevertheless a valuable text showing how a goddess—who is not otherwise attested as Soteira in the Greek world—here acquired the epithet: Demeter became ‘saviouress’ to this specific group of women under the particular circumstances. Despite the deliverance she offered on this occasion, however, Demeter’s epithet did not catch on: Demeter is not attested again as Soteira whether on Cos or anywhere else in the Greek world.

3.11 Lawsuits Despite Aristophanes’ passage at the beginning of this chapter, where the priest of Zeus Soter cites successful lawsuits as one of the occasions for sacrificing to the god, ‘saviour’ gods rarely appear in legal contexts in other sources.¹⁴⁶ The verb sozein and the concept of soteria are, however, occasionally used in law-court speeches to mean acquittal or escape from prosecution.¹⁴⁷ A rare instance of ‘saviour’ gods at work in a legal context comes from Hellenistic Delos, where the priest of Sarapis escaped successfully from a prosecution brought against him. A long text, preserved on a marble column on the sacred island, recounts how Apollonios inherited the priesthood from his father and grandfather, who first brought the cult of Sarapis from Egypt; then in accordance with the god’s command he purchased a piece of land and established a permanent shrine on the island for the god—this is presumably Sarapieion A, where the column was found. Yet certain wicked individuals brought a public lawsuit against him on grounds not made explicit to us. Apollonios therefore begged the god to ‘protect’ him (ἀλεξῆσαι) and to ‘ward off evil dooms of death’ (θανάτου δὲ κακὰς ἀπὸ κῆρας ἐρῦξαι). On the day of the trial, the god manifested his power by depriving his accusers of their power of speech. On account of his saving intervention at the trial, Sarapis and his consort Isis are jointly referred to as ‘saviours’ (σαώτορες) in the inscription subsequently set up in the shrine.¹⁴⁸ In the Hellenistic period, it is ¹⁴⁵ IG XII.4 514 (c.200 ) retains many supplements of Herzog (1932). Lines 2–3: [Δάματ]ρ̣ί̣ / Σωτείραι, [Κόραι Σωτείρ]ᾶι̣ . ¹⁴⁶ Ar. Plut. 1178–84. Meyer (2010)’s argument that metics who escaped from conviction in graphai aprostasiou would dedicate a phiale weighing 100 drachmai to Zeus Soter/Eleutherios is untenable and needs to be treated with caution; see review by Vlassopoulos (2011). ¹⁴⁷ e.g. Isoc. 17.17; Lys. 19.54, 22.3; Lycurg. Leoc. 148. See also an oracular consultation concerning a lawsuit: I.Dodone Evangelidi, no. 224A. ¹⁴⁸ IG XI.4 1299 = RICIS 202/0101 (end of third century ). The inscription has two parts, a shorter prose version narrated by Apollonios (lines 1–28), and a more detailed hexameter text by Maiistas (lines 29–94). The word σαώτορες appears in line 33 in Maiistas’ poem. Discussed in Roussel (1915–16), 71–8, 289–90; Bruneau (1970), 457–66; Moyer (2011), ch. 3.

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not uncommon to find Sarapis and Isis being referred to as Theoi Soteres, but this is the only text which refers to them as ‘saviours’ in the context of a successful lawsuit.¹⁴⁹

3.12 Manumission Although the language of saving was sometimes used in relation to personal freedom or liberty, as with individuals freed from captivity seen earlier (see Chapter 3.1 above),¹⁵⁰ any links between ‘saviour’ gods and the manumission of slaves remain slight and intermittent in our sources. We have already seen the cult of Zeus Soter/Eleutherios in the Athenian agora possibly connected with the Persian Wars. Despite Hyperides’ attempt to explain that Zeus ‘acquired the title of Eleutherios because the freedmen (exeleutheroi) built the stoa near him’,¹⁵¹ there is no evidence that freedmen worshipped Zeus Soter/Eleutherios; instead the freedom associated with this cult was public and political rather than personal. In a large number of manumission records of Hellenistic date from Bouthrotos in Epirus, Zeus Soter features as the recipient of slaves being manumitted.¹⁵² As part of the process of ‘sacral manumission’, a slave would typically be dedicated or sold to a god, who would make no use of his right of ownership, so that the slave would in effect be free.¹⁵³ Many of these manumission texts show masters consecrating their male or female slaves to Zeus Soter,¹⁵⁴ whose cult must have existed in Bouthrotos by the second century , as his priest is mentioned in the dating formula of some of these texts. In the context of manumission Zeus’ epithet Soter might express not just the freeing of a slave from his master, but also the hope that the god would continue to protect or guarantee his freed status and inviolability. Nevertheless, one should perhaps not read too much into the epithet as it was presumably the slave-owner who performed the dedication, and his main concern might not have been the divine protection of the slave. Nor should we be distracted by the large number of texts mentioning Zeus Soter: Bouthrotos is one

¹⁴⁹ See also Baslez (1977), 134, on legal help offered by Egyptian gods on Delos, often in a commercial context. ¹⁵⁰ See nn. 19–20 above, and also IG IX.2 238 (different supplements in I.Vallée Enipeus, no. 59), a dedication in Pharsalos to [Zeus S]oter by someone who escaped from Aetolia together with others (probably exiles?) ([σωθεὶς ἐξ Α]ἰτωλίας [σὺν] τοῖς ϕυγάσιν). ¹⁵¹ Harp. s.v. Ἐλευθέριος Ζεύς. In the same entry Harpokration goes on to say that Didymus says Hyperides is wrong: Zeus was called Eleutherios because the Athenians were freed from the Persian threat. ¹⁵² I.Bouthrotos 110–17, 119–51bis. Zeus Soter is mentioned in as many as forty-two texts, in the dating formula and/or as the divine recipient. ¹⁵³ On sacral manumission, see Zelnick-Abramovitz (2005), 86–99. ¹⁵⁴ A common formula is ἀνατίθητι ἱερὸν/ἱερὰν τõι Διὶ τõι Σωτῆρι (‘dedicated as sacred to Zeus Soter’), and less often ἀνατίθητι παρὰ Δία Σωτῆρα or ἀνατίθητι παρὰ Διὶ Σωτῆρι (‘dedicated before Zeus Soter’): see e.g. I.Bouthrotos 123–6.

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of the Greek cities which provides us with the greatest number of manumission texts. Equally popular in Bouthrotos as the god in manumission is Asclepius (not called Soter), who features in about half of the epigraphic corpus.¹⁵⁵ Outside Bouthrotos, there are only isolated mentions of ‘saviour’ gods in connection to slaves. A manumission record from Calydon in Aitolia mentions the fictive sale of two slaves to Artemis Laphria and Zeus Soter ‘for the purpose of freedom’ (ἐ̣π᾽ ἐλευθερίαι).¹⁵⁶ This is the only attestion of Zeus Soter in Calydon, and we know nothing more about this cult and its local prominence. In Beroia in Macedonia, new manumission inscriptions have come to light from the sanctuary hitherto known as belonging to Dionysus Pseudanor (‘Pseudo-Male’ or ‘False Man’), referring to the god as Dionysus Soter Pseudanor.¹⁵⁷ Dionysus is neither the commonest god in manumission nor the commonest ‘saviour’ in the Greek world; we await publication of these texts to learn more. Does it follow, then, that there existed a close connection between ‘saviour’ gods and the freeing of slaves? In a recent article Kamen suggests that Apollo, Asclepius, and Sarapis are the commonest gods in manumission, and that their power to heal and save makes them particularly appropriate for effecting a slave’s transition from slavery to freedom, that is, from a kind of symbolic ‘sickness’ or ‘social death’ to a state of being ‘healed’ or ‘reborn’. At first sight the presence of ‘saviour’ gods in the above examples may seem to confirm her argument. However, any connection between ‘saviour’ gods and the freeing of slaves might have been incidental—it is not the case that a god called Soter was needed to effect or protect a slave’s freedom, but rather that a local cult of a ‘saviour’ god was at hand for the purpose of sacral manumission. In Bouthrotos, Asclepius was just as viable as Zeus Soter for the purpose. Many local gods could have served similar functions as divine recipients in sacral manumission, and the epithet Soter was neither necessary nor important for the purpose. How slave-owners chose which god to involve is a question which largely escapes us. Gods to whom slaves were consecrated varied from one place to another, and it is hard to identify a close relation between particular gods or particular epithets and manumission.¹⁵⁸ ¹⁵⁵ Asclepius is mentioned in I.Bouthrotos 1–4, 6, 66–109. ¹⁵⁶ IG IX.1² 137 (130–120 ), lines 85–90. It is tempting to think that Zeus Soter was, unusually, added to Artemis Laphria because a male slave and a female one were being sold, whereas all other manumission entries in the same inscription sold only one slave (either male or female) to Artemis Laphria. But this hypothesis cannot stand as it was not uncommon elsewhere in Greece to consecrate multiple slaves to a single god. ¹⁵⁷ Unpublished texts (second century ), mentioned in Oxford Archaeological seminar 28 November 2016. On Dionysus’ other epithet Pseudanor, see Polyaenus, Strat. 4.1: Argaeus, king of Macedon, tricked and routed the invading enemy by dressing a large number of women as men; on account of this he established a temple of Dionysus Pseudanor. ¹⁵⁸ Darmezin (1999), 183–4, notes that ‘il ne semble pas y avoir de prépondérance de tel ou tel dieu dans les affranchissments par consécration’, ‘il ne semble donc pas qu’il y ait eu des divinités ‘spécialisées’ dans la protection des affranchis’. However, using Darmezin’s data (which excludes many manumission records from Bouthrotos not yet published then), Kamen (2012) reaches a different conclusion.

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3.13 Conclusion: Choosing, Creating, and Honouring your ‘Saviour’ To return to the passage in Aristophanes with which we began, the priest of Zeus Soter gives the impression that universal wealth is a sufficient condition to render all the gods redundant, and that even the most powerful divine ‘saviour’ is left without worshippers. However, we have seen that economic security constitutes only one form of soteria, and that the Greek ‘saviour’ gods oversaw a much wider range of personal needs. For individuals, they could grant soteria in the sense of recovery from illnesses and injuries, preservation of health, safety on land and at sea, deliverance from war and captivity, safe return home, protection of crops and animals, legal victory, and so on. At first sight these disparate activities may seem completely unrelated to each other, but what unites them is the implication of some threat or risk, whether real or potential, in the uncertainties of life. The Greeks could have one form of soteria but lack another; even if ‘saved’ from poverty, therefore, a rich Athenian would without doubt need to cultivate Zeus Soter or other gods for the safe-keeping of his wealth, well-being of his family, and other kinds of soteria. In comic fantasy we find Ploutos overthrowing Zeus Soter; in reality, however, individuals would have needed him just the same in different spheres of life. Amid the wide range of saving situations we have seen, Zeus Soter recurs in many of them. In addition to granting protection at sea, success in lawsuits, and favourable omens as the priest in Aristophanes tells us, Zeus Soter was widely popular among soldiers; he was involved in military enterprises, agricultural prosperity, the stability of the earth, the protection of livestock, and the freeing of slaves. A much larger number of surviving dedications were addressed to Zeus Soter than to any other ‘saviours’, but unfortunately they hardly ever reveal how Zeus Soter actually ‘saved’. Zeus was so widely worshipped by individuals perhaps out of a sense that he exercised ultimate control over everything. Despite the omnicompetence of Zeus, however, worshippers were still dependent on the favour of many other divinities for safety and security. As we have seen, a multiplicity of ‘saviour’ gods could often be active in the same sphere of life, and it has emerged from our analysis that there was no such thing as a ‘saviour’ god par excellence in a particular field of activity. Nor did gods who saved necessarily bear the epithet Soter/Soteira. How individuals chose their ‘saviour(s)’ in any given situation could be affected by many factors, such as the local pantheon, the locality concerned, oracular instruction, divine nature (or perception of it), personal preference, and social norms. Other factors could have been at play and are not always discernible to us, but what seems evident is that worshippers did not always select a saviour on the basis on what was considered as a god’s usual ‘saving’ power or sphere of influence. Significantly, gods who predominated in a given sphere often were not called Soter/Soteira and perhaps did not need the

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epithet to carry out their main function—Apollo in averting plague, Artemis in childbirth, Asclepius in healing, and so on. Conversely, gods not normally associated with a particular activity might sometimes be called upon to bring aid. Thus Asclepius could also save from war and captivity and, in one exceptional instance, from dangers at sea and among the barbarians.¹⁵⁹ The most striking case is seafaring, where, contrary to what we might expect, Aphrodite and Poseidon are hardly addressed as ‘saviours’ even when invoked or thanked in relation to voyages, whereas Apollo was so called by several groups of sailors each for a different reason.¹⁶⁰ Poseidon Soter is again almost absent in earthquakes, though he often appeared as Asphaleios when these occurred; instead Zeus is most frequently attested as Soter where stability of the earth was concerned. Artemis does not appear under the title of Soteira in prayers related to childbirth, even though she was the most popular ‘saviouress’ in other spheres of life. The most frequent bearers of the epithet Soter in a given activity therefore may not necessarily be the gods most prominently or explicitly associated with it. This illustrates well that, as discussed in the Introduction, the gods in Greek polytheism did not work in rigidly separated spheres of influence; overlaps, extensions, and occasional transgressions in divine functions are not uncommon. The uneven, and seemingly random, distribution of the epithet Soter/Soteira in the Greek pantheon is a complex problem to which we shall return in the next chapter. Such complexities arise in part from variations in divine naming and flexibility in Greek religious language. As we have seen, there is no lack of other epithets which the Greeks could use, and in some contexts it was more common to refer to certain gods under some of these titles than as Soter: Asphaleios for Poseidon, Euploia and Galenaia for Aphrodite, Alexikakos for Heracles, and so on. Not only could individuals choose different gods and epithets when encountering similar problems, they might also coin new epithets or adapt existing ones to suit their specific needs. We have already met an admiral (nauarchos) who thanked Poseidon Sosineos (‘Ship-Saving’) and Aphrodite Nauarchis (‘Mistress of Ships’). The epithets were probably chosen by the admiral to reflect his role in the fleet on the one hand and his concern with maritime safety on the other.¹⁶¹ The resonance between the god’s epithet and the dedicators’ role or title is again attested in Thessaly, where a group of military men called οἱ συμπολιϕύλακες and their commander set up a dedication to Heros Poliphylax (‘Guardian of the City’).¹⁶² The most interesting of all is the grateful woman’s dedication to Eileithyia Sozousa Episozousa: while Sozousa commemorated her personal safety ¹⁵⁹ Asclepius and war: IG II/III² 4357 = IG II/III³ 4, 673; IG IV².1 128.57–78 (discussed in Chapter 2). Asclepius saving at sea: AvP VIII.3, no. 63; Aristid. Or. 48.12–14 (Hieroi Logoi II) Keil. ¹⁶⁰ See Chapter 3.2 above. ¹⁶¹ CIRB 30. The double meaning of Nauarchis—Aphrodite as mistress of the fleet and as the admiral’s Aphrodite—is noted by Wallensten (2008), 92 n. 48. ¹⁶² I.Atrax 84 (third century , disputed provenance: Atrax or Larrisa?).

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in a recent childbirth, Episozousa is apparently newly coined to pray for the goddess’s continued protection after the delivery and/or in a future pregnancy and delivery.¹⁶³ In some contexts such as the shrine at El-Kaais, it is true, individuals might tend to imitate or copy each other’s graffito. But in other cases individuals did not simply take over existing forms of epithets used by the polis or by other worshippers, and instead might select from the available epithets what was most suitable to them and adapt them according to their own situation with a certain originality and creativity. Not only could individuals coin new epithets or adapt them as context required, they could also apply the epithet to divine powers hitherto not normally so called. A woman in Thrace fulfilled her vow to the Anemoi Soteres.¹⁶⁴ That the Winds were not normally called ‘saviours’ did not bother her. Surely the Greeks did not consult a dictionary of divine names to look up how a particular deity should be addressed under what circumstances, but new ‘saviours’ could be created as their needs arose. Apart from commemorating their saving experience, one of the main purposes in setting up a permanent dedication was doubtless to give thanks to the gods for the soteria attained and to commemorate the power of the god concerned. The idea, implied in most dedications, is sometimes made explicit in the text. In the fourth century  an Athenian, saved probably from a war (σωθεὶς ἐ[κ πολέμου]), set up a dedication as ‘pro[of] of [y]our miraculous power, for all to see’ ([σ]ῆς ἀρετῆς Α . . . παρα[δείγματ]α πᾶσιν ἰδέσθαι).¹⁶⁵ Similar language is used in Syria when someone was ‘saved from the depth of a wild sea and the limits of fearful land’; he then set up an altar as ‘p[roof] of the miraculous power of Zeus’ (Διὸς ἀρετῆς π[αράδειγμα]).¹⁶⁶ In Roman Phrygia, a family discharged a vow to Hosios Dikaios after it was ‘saved by the great miraculous power (of the god)’ (σωθέντες ἐκ μεγάλης ἀρετῆς).¹⁶⁷ In contrast to the very common formula σωθεὶς ἐκ τινός indicating the threat from which one was delivered, here the preposition ἐκ followed by a genitive is instrumental: the dedicators were saved ‘by means of ’ or ‘with the aid of ’ the god’s power. In all these cases it was explicitly the gods’ arete, rather than that of the worshipper, which was being commemorated, and which the worshipper hoped to experience again. While a spectrum of ‘saving’ experiences existed, in the vast majority of cases soteria for individuals involved the attaining of specific, well-defined, and often short-term goals amid the uncertainties in life. Honouring the gods with dedications was an attempt to transform a momentary deliverance they effected into a

¹⁶³ IG II/III³ 4, 1152. ¹⁶⁴ IGBulg IV 2231 (undated, Pautalia). But see Page, PMG, no. 858: Εὖ̣ρ᾽ ὦ σωτὴρ τᾶς Σπάρτας; Paus. 8.36.6: the North Wind (Boreas) received sacrifice as he proved to be the soter of the Megalopolitans from the Spartans under Agis. ¹⁶⁵ IG II/III² 4908 = IG II/III³ 4, 1443. ¹⁶⁶ Mouterde (1931), 141–4 = SEG VII 967; discussed earlier in n. 60. ¹⁶⁷ Ricl (2008), 569, no. 12.

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more permanent relationship with them; the ideal was to perpetuate a continuous cycle of charis between man and gods. Precisely because soteria tends to be shortlived and time-restricted, one had constantly to renew one’s prayer for divine protection and to reactivate the gods’ saving power. We have already met a Pergean who left three graffiti honouring Pan (called Soter in two of them) on rock surfaces at El-Kanais, as if Pan’s protection had to be renewed for each journey by another invocation.¹⁶⁸ Much later, an individual in Rome tells us that he was ‘saved from great dangers many times’ (ἐκ μεγάλων κινδύνων πολλάκις σωθείς).¹⁶⁹ Our epigraphic evidence hardly allows more than a snapshot of a particular individual’s life, and we rarely learn how long-lasting the saving power of a god might be. Aelius Aristides’ Sacred Tales sheds some interesting light in this respect. Asclepius, often called Soter in his work,¹⁷⁰ saved Aristides and his family servants on countless occasions and in matters not necessarily restricted to illness.¹⁷¹ However, as Behr observes, most of the cures were specific remedies for specific ailments, and his life continued to be plagued by new diseases and recurrent ones. Asclepius was his ‘saviour’ in the sense that he provided relief from many of his symptoms and prolonged his life, but he could not deliver him from his afflictions completely.¹⁷² Though late and atypical, Aristides’ experiences demonstrate well the short-lived nature of soteria and the permanent state of man’s insecurity which held true for all the Greeks. However blessed one might be by the gods, there could be no deliverance once and for all.¹⁷³ It is not until much later, with the coming of Christianity as we shall see in Chapter 6, that a new and eternal kind of soteria came to be offered in a different religious culture.

¹⁶⁸ I.Kanais, nos. 25, 39, 40. ¹⁶⁹ IGUR I 193; IG XIV 1030. ¹⁷⁰ Asclepius Soter: e.g. Aristid. Or. 47.1, 66 (Hieroi Logoi I); 48.7, 37, 40 (Hieroi Logoi II); 49.7 (Hieroi Logoi III); 50.4, 9, 38 (Hieroi Logoi IV) Keil. ¹⁷¹ e.g. Aristid. Or. 47.78 (Hieroi Logoi I) Keil: τὴν τοίνυν τροϕὸν τὴν ἀρχαίαν . . . μυριάκις μὲν ἔσωσεν παρ᾽ ἐλπίδας (‘He saved countless times, beyond expectation, my old nurse’). Not restricted to illness: e.g. Aristid. Or. 48.12–14 (Hieroi Logoi II) Keil, on deliverance from dangers at sea. See also Aristid. Or. 49.38–41 (Hieroi Logoi III) Keil: Asclepius seems to be the (unnamed) god who commanded Aristides to sacrifice to Zeus Soter during the earthquakes of  149. ¹⁷² The effectiveness of his cures is discussed in Behr (1968), 39–40. ¹⁷³ Cf. Hom. Od. 3.236–8.

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4 A World of Saviours The Spread of the Trans-divine Epithet

Chapters 2 and 3 illustrated the wide-ranging power of ‘saviour’ gods in the lived experience of communities and individuals. As we have seen, Soter was a ‘transdivine’ epithet applicable to multiple gods in the Greek world. Nevertheless, not all the gods received the title, and it was much commoner for some gods than others. If, in theory, all the Greek gods had the power to ‘save’ in one way or another, why would some gods be often called Soter, and others rarely or not at all? This chapter tackles the problem of the ‘mouvement épiclétique’:¹ it will first trace the spread of this epithet among the gods across the Greek Mediterranean from the Archaic period down to the Roman imperial, and then it will explore possible factors affecting its uneven application in the Greek pantheon. In the course of the analysis, we will look more closely at the epithet itself: what functions it served, what implications it had for the unity of the divine, and how its significance changed (if at all) over time. Yet we will go beyond the theoretical analysis of the epithet, and investigate what its uneven distribution may tell us about the Greeks’ perception of their gods. Various complications confront us from the outset. First of all, not all references to a divine Soter necessarily involved a physical cult or a permanent cult epithet. A god might be called Soter by a specific group at a particular moment for the ‘saving’ he had performed or was called upon to perform, even when no cult was created or dedicated to him under that title. As we have seen, for instance, Athenian soldiers on campaign far away from home could still appeal to Zeus Soter even if no cult site dedicated to him under that title was close at hand.² Only references to such elements as temples, altars, festivals, religious personnel, and cultic communities (such as associations) can help us determine whether an established cult lay behind a reference to a Soter. As the state of evidence often does not permit us to decide, I have included occurrences of the epithet regardless of whether an actual cult existed, and whether Soter was used as a permanent epithet or a temporary form of address. A second complication is the discrepancy between the use of the epithet in prose and in verse. Not only are there poetic

¹ This is the phrase of Brulé and Lebreton (2007), 227. ² e.g. I.Estremo Oriente, no. 416 (Icaros).

Saviour Gods and Soteria in Ancient Greece. Theodora Suk Fong Jim, Oxford University Press. © Theodora Suk Fong Jim 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192894113.003.0005

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epithets bearing similar meanings to Soter,³ the chronology, composition, and prominence of ‘saviour’ gods in verse also differ in some respects from those in prose texts and inscriptions. I will draw attention to where different kinds of sources are not in accord with each other, and I will focus on gods called ‘saviour’ in actual cultic worship rather than where the epithet was only applied in poetry.⁴ A different problem is the imperfect dating of our evidence: many of our inscriptions are roughly dated or not dated at all. Precision is equally unattainable when one attempts to rank ‘saviour’ gods in terms of popularity, as this inevitably depends on the survival of evidence. Nevertheless, absolute figures are not critically important for our purpose. What follows is a broad sketch illustrating trends that can be observed; the picture will doubtless change as new pieces of evidence come to light and existing ones get re-evaluated or re-dated.

4.1 The Proliferation of Soteres in the Greek World 4.1.1 Early Cults of Divine Soteres Even though ranking the ‘saviours’ in terms of chronology and frequency of appearance may not be entirely accurate, there is no doubt that Zeus Soter was by far the most frequently invoked Soter in the Greek world. Not only was he the most popular, he was probably also the earliest Olympian god to be called ‘Saviour’. As we have seen in Chapter 1, in Archaic Greek culture it was a common practice to offer the third libation of mixed wine to Zeus Soter at symposia.⁵ A combination of literary and archaeological evidence suggests that Zeus was probably already called Soter verbally in drinking contexts before any actual cult was established for him under that title. A red-figure kylix from the Athenian acropolis, by a late Archaic vase-painter, shows a wreathed man reclining and holding a phiale and a spear, and incised before his open month are the words ΖΕΥ ΣΩΤΗΡ in retrograde; he seems to be invoking Zeus Soter while pouring a libation as banqueters in symposia would normally do. Other early vessels incised Διὸς Σωτῆρος (or similar) include, for example, a pottery sherd as early as the third quarter of the sixth century from Olbia on the northern shore of the Black Sea, and an Attic drinking cup from the Thracian city of Kallatis on its western

³ Poetic epithets: see Introduction nn. 86–7; Chapter 1.1. ⁴ e.g. Themis and Eunomia appear as Soteira only in poetry. Hermes and Tyche appear as Soter/ Soteira early in the poetry of the Classical period, but are not attested epigraphically (save one uncertain identification of Hermes, see n. 42 below) until the imperial period. See also Chapter 1 n. 23. ⁵ See references in Chapter 1 n. 28.

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coast (late fifth or early fourth century).⁶ One wonders whether some of these early vessels were used for pouring libations to the god before being dedicated to him. Unfortunately the date of the earliest cult of Zeus Soter at a fixed site cannot be pinned down precisely, as evidence from the Archaic period is slight and uncertain (Fig. 7).⁷ In Phigaleia in Arcadia is an Archaic temple in which Zeus Soter was jointly worshipped with Athena from at least the fourth century, but whether Zeus already bore this title there in the Archaic period cannot be ascertained.⁸ On the island of Aegina is an inscription in archaic lettering published in the Inscriptiones Graecae as Διὸς Πασίο | κ̣αὶ Σοτε̂ρο[ς] | π̣ε̣δ̣α̣ϕέρεν (second half of the sixth century). Nevertheless, the letters ΤΕΡΟ no longer survive on the stone today; the reading Σοτε̂ρο[ς] and the existence of the cult on Aegina have both been questioned.⁹ It is sometimes thought that before the Persian Wars an altar of Zeus Soter already stood in the Athenian agora where the stoa of Zeus Eleutherios was later constructed (c.430–420s on architectural grounds). But as discussed in Chapter 1, neither epithet is securely attested for Zeus in the agora in the fifth century, and their relative chronology cannot be established with certainty.¹⁰ By analogy with other gods who became ‘Saviours’ in connection with this struggle (see below), it is possible that Zeus received the epithet Soter in Athens during the Persian Wars or shortly afterwards. Already in the fifth-century  Zeus appeared under the title of Soter on two edges of the Greek world. Apart from various vessels from Olbia,¹¹ we have in Sicily a small bronze ball inscribed Διὸς Σοτῆρος from Himera, a gold ring inscribed ΣΟΤEΡ above a snake flanked by two birds (eagles?), and a bronze

⁶ Athens Acr. 434, ARV² 330, no. 5, fragment A; discussed in Lissarrague (1995), 128–9; Gaifman (2018), 131–3; Roussiaiéva (1992), 56, no. 11 (Olbia, Ζηνὶ Σωτῆ[ρι]). Other vessels in Olbia similarly incised ‘of Zeus Soter’ come from the fifth century: see n. 11 below. I.Kallatis, no. 254 (Διὸς Σωτῆρος Βαδίσκου). ⁷ I have excluded here the tenuous identification in Sismanidis (2012) = SEG LXII 480 between a late Archaic temple in Stagira in the Chalcidice and the joint cult of Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira mentioned in Aristotle’s will (Diog. Laert. 5.16). ⁸ There archaeologists have discovered a bronze sheet of Archaic date dedicated to Athena alone (SEG XLVI 447, XLVII 440) and a fourth-century statue base dedicated to Athena (no epithet) and Zeus Soter (SEG XLVI 448, XLVII 441). ⁹ Ed. pr.: Peek (1934), 43–4, no. 6 = SEG XI 2. Revised edition: IG IV².2 1061 (second half of sixth century). Cf. Polinskaya (2008); Polinskaya (2013), 343–4. Pasios was equivalent to the Attic Ktesios, and πεδαϕέρεν was the Doric form of the Attic μεταϕέρειν (‘to move’, ‘to carry away’). The epithet Soter is not otherwise attested on Aegina, whether for Zeus or other gods, nor is it ever justaposed with Ktesios. But see Chapter 3.6, for possible connections between Zeus Soter and wealth. ¹⁰ See Chapter 1, nn. 72–3, and sources conveniently collected in Agora III, 25–30. ¹¹ Vessels in Olbia: in addition to the sixth-century one in n. 6, SEG XXXII 748–9, 760 (fifth-century black-glazed bowls). But secure evidence for a cult of Zeus Soter in Olbia only emerges in the fourth century: I.Olbia 71 = IGDOP 11 (members of a thiasos); IOSPE I² 25 (honorific decree). Note also IGDOP 50, which attests to Achilles Soter in fifth-century Olbia.

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strigil stamped with an Archaic image of Zeus and the word ΣΩΤΗΡ.¹² These are portable objects rather than artefacts related to an actual cult, and they were probably brought by Greeks travelling to the fringes of the Greek world in the course of such activities as colonization. Back in the Greek mainland, an actual cult was probably established in Boeotia: if Euripides’ tragedy can be taken to reflect the religious topography of Greece, an altar of Zeus Soter probably already existed in the agora in Thebes in his time.¹³ Taken together, these pieces of evidence suggest that Zeus Soter must have been a familiar figure in the fifth century, even though he did not always have a fixed abode. From then on he became increasingly widely known under this title, and in many places he was the earliest god attested as ‘Saviour’. He was the first to appear under this epithet in the Thracian cities on the western coast of the Black Sea in the late fifth or early fourth century; Italy, Cyprus, and Asia Minor in the fourth;¹⁴ and Egypt in the late fourth century.¹⁵ Attica alone developed two later cults after the one in the agora, one in the Piraeus (by the early fourth century) and another in Rhamnus (third century), both of which were shared with Athena Soteira.¹⁶ It is clear therefore that by the end of the Classical period, Zeus Soter already enjoyed widespread popularity across the Greek world. The earliest cult of Athena Soteira, according to Pausanias, may be an Archaic temple on Mt Boreius in Arcadia. There Pausanias reports seeing traces of a sanctuary of Athena Soteira and Poseidon, reputedly built by Odysseus when he returned from Troy, and this has been identified, though not unanimously, with the remains of a seventh-century temple at modern-day Vigla between Asea and Pallantion.¹⁷ Nevertheless, aetiological myths of this kind are not reliable, nor is there any epigraphic evidence of Athena Soteira from this early site to confirm Pausanias’ identification. So confused are the moderns about the location of the

¹² Bronze ball: SEG LVII 872, LXI 746 (Himera, 425–400 ). Its purpose is disputed, and it may not constitute sufficient evidence of a cult; cf. Torelli (2003) = SEG LIII 1001, who identifies a temple on the acropolis of Himera as belonging to Zeus Soter on the basis of this object. Gold ring: Manganaro (2003), 5–8 (provenance unclear, fifth century ); strigil: Marwitz (1979), 72–3, with photos = SEG XXX 1789 (found in the sea between Syracuse and Leontinoi, c.400 ). ¹³ Thebes: Eur. HF 48, 520–2, 922–7, with Schachter (1981–94), vol. 3, 149 n. 1, followed by Berman (2015), 111. ¹⁴ Italy: BM Vase F548 = CIG 8470C (Puglia, mid-fourth century) is a crater inscribed ΔΙΟΣ ΣΩΤΗΡΟΣ. See also CVA Germany 8, 38, pl. 75.1, a hydria incised with Ζ[Ε]ΥΣ ΣΩΤΗΡ above the stern of a boat (Capua in Campania, probably fourth century). ¹⁵ Egypt: see n. 45. ¹⁶ Piraeus: the date of its foundation cannot be ascertained; the cult is only attested in literary and epigraphic evidence starting from the early fourth century , though we cannot rule out the possibility that it was founded earlier in the fifth. Rhamnus: see Chapter 3 n. 4. ¹⁷ Hom. Od. 11.127; Paus. 8.44.4, with commentaries. Romaios (1957); Jost (1985), 195–7, 293–4; and Mylonopoulos (2003), 98–103, all identify the temple as the one on Mt Kravari to the northeast of Asea. But there is, confusingly, another Archaic temple on Mt Hagios Elias at Kandréva to the northwest of Asea, also topped by a chapel; this was identified with the temple in question by Holmberg (1941), 20–5. The association or confusion is understandable given the similar myths told of Saint Elias and Odysseus (Hom. Od. 11.119–34), as related in Cook (1914–40), vol. 1, 170–1.

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Fig. 8 Archaic temple of Athena Soteira and Poseidon on Mt Boreius (?), now only the foundation remains and is topped by a little chapel (author’s photo).

site and the identity of its gods that the ancient hill-top shrine to the northeast of Asea (if this is the one Pausanias refers to) is now labelled, bizarrely, by the Greek Ministry of Culture and Sports as the ‘sanctuary of Athena and Zeus Soter’ (Fig. 8). Despite the statement in Pausanias, therefore, there is no secure attestation of Athena Soteira from the Archaic period. In the Classical period we hear of an unnamed Soteira, most probably Athena, briefly invoked in speech in Aristophanes’ Frogs (405 ) towards the end of the Peloponnesian War, but without referring to any particular cult in Athens.¹⁸ It is not until the fourth century  that cults of Athena Soteira are firmly attested: alongside Zeus Soter in the Piraeus and in Stagira in the Chalcidice, and independently in Chersonesus in the Black Sea.¹⁹ From the third century on Athena Soteira continued to appear sporadically here and there, often together with her father (Figs 9 and 10),²⁰ but overall is not as widely attested or popular as Artemis Soteira.

¹⁸ Ar. Ran. 378–81; discussed in Jim (2015). ¹⁹ Fourth-century attestations: Lycurg. Leoc. 17 (Piraeus, joint cult), IG II/III³ 1, 445.30–1 (by supplement, Piraeus); Diog. Laert 5.16 (Stagira, joint cult); IOSPE I² 406 = IOSPE³ III 121 (Crimean Chersonesus). ²⁰ Third-century attestations: Rhamnus (joint cult), Cos (joint cult), Delos (joint cult), Delphi, Lamia in Thessaly, Aegae in Aeolis (joint cult), Lapethos in Cyprus. The frequent pairing between Athena Soteira and Zeus Soter is discussed in the Introduction.

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      

Fig. 9 Athena Soteira, attested independently of Zeus Soter, from the Archaic period down to the Roman imperial.

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Fig. 10 Joint cults of Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira.

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Two Saviours appeared in the early fifth century as a result of the struggle with Persia. As we have seen in Chapter 1, Poseidon is described as ‘a tamer of horses and saviour of ships’ in the Homeric Hymns, and was given Soter as an epithet in recognition of his miraculous wrecking of the Persian fleet near Cape Sepias in 480 . If not for Herodotus’ statement that the Greeks still used the title of Poseidon Soter in his time,²¹ it would be easy to assume that his cult (if any) and epithet had fallen into neglect, as we have no evidence of Poseidon Soter in the rest of the Classical period, and only isolated and sometimes uncertain instances in the Hellenistic and beyond.²² At about the same time, if we believe Pausanias, Artemis Soteira emerged in Megara in 479 , after intervening in its favour against Mardonius’ army.²³ But from then on the cults of these two Saviours developed in rather different ways: Poseidon Soter very rarely appeared again, whereas Artemis Soteira became the most popular Soteira, second only to Zeus in terms of frequency of attestation and geographical spread in the Classical (Figs 11 and 12) and Hellenistic periods (see below).

4.1.2 Proliferation from the Fourth Century  After Zeus, Athena, Poseidon, and Artemis, many other gods came to share the epithet Soter/Soteira in the fourth century , most of whom were Olympian figures: Apollo, Asclepius, Dionysus, the Dioscuri, Kore, and possibly Heracles all became ‘Saviours’ in this period (Fig. 12).²⁴ A particularly interesting case is Asclepius, who was first proclaimed Soter by the Spartans in the second half of the fourth century on account, bizarrely, of his military assistance.²⁵ However, the circumstances in which other gods first acquired the epithet cannot be traced, and literary and epigraphic records are not always in accord with each other. Described as ‘saviours of mankind on earth and of swift-faring ships’ as early as the Homeric Hymns, the Dioscuri do not appear as Soteres in epigraphic and numismatic evidence until the fourth century.²⁶ Apollo, Dionysus, and possibly

²¹ Hymn. Hom. 22.5; Hdt. 7.188–92. Discussed in Chapter 1. ²² IG II/III² 1300 (Sunium, c.230 ) and I.Rhamnous, no. 20.27–8 (Sunium, 235–229 ) are fragmentary and uncertain (see doubts expressed in Chapter 3 n. 36). See also Poseidon Sosineos in CIRB 30 (Panticapaeum, first century ). On Poseidon’s title Soter in relation to earthquakes, see I.Didyma 132 (Miletus, late second century ); I.Gerasa, no. 39 (Gerasa,  150–200). ²³ Paus. 1.40.2–3, 44.4: see Chapter 2. ²⁴ ‘Possibly Heracles’: that is, if the ceramic fragment from Panskoye incised with his name (SEG XXXIX 703, fourth or third century?) belongs to the fourth century . ²⁵ Asclepius: IG IV².1 128.57–78 (discussed in Chapter 2). ²⁶ The Dioscuri: Hymn. Hom. 33.6–19; IG IX.1 130 (Elateia in Phocis); BMC Sicily, 235, nos. 6–7; Head, Hist. Num. pp. 189–90 (Tyndaris in Sicily, c. mid-fourth century ).

Fig. 11 Saviour gods attested between c.479 and 400 .

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Fig. 12 Saviour gods attested in the fourth century .

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Heracles all started receiving this epithet in about the same period (Figs 13, 14, 15), and exhibited a similar pattern to each other: Apollo was more widely attested among them, but none of them became popular or prominent as ‘saviours’. As Figure 14 shows, Dionysus Soter was confined to mainland and northern Greece.²⁷ Kore Soteira was prominent in Cyzicus as its chief goddess,²⁸ and in Megalopolis in Arcadia she was one of the two Great Goddesses, but elsewhere in Greece she remains infrequently attested.²⁹ Thus many Olympian gods were already added to the circle of Soteres by the late fourth century . Gods who received the epithet in the Hellenistic period were mainly foreign gods or lesser figures in the Greek pantheon. Developments in the Hellenistic era are too complicated to be traced in detail. Not only did other, often untraditional, gods acquire this epithet as the Greeks came into contact with them, existing Soteres also moved into regions where they had not been formerly worshipped under that title (Figs 16a–c). Particularly noteworthy in the third and second centuries  are the Syrian, Egyptian, and other foreign divinities who now appeared as new Soteres. At Beroea in Macedon, we find a native Macedonian priest dedicating to Atargatis Soteira.³⁰ The Syrian goddess arrived in Macedonia via channels not entirely clear to us, but her title Soteira (of which this is the only attestation) probably came from Greece and more specifically Macedonia—where Soter and Soteira are attested as epithets of other gods from the fourth century³¹— rather than reflecting an original equivalent in Syria. A similar process of giving the epithet to foreign gods is seen for a local goddess in modern Dzhangul on the northern shore of the Black Sea. There archaeologists have uncovered a group of graffiti dedicated to an indigenous goddess variously called Targa or Tarke, one of which was to Achilles So[ter and] Tarke Sot[eira].³² Isis and Sarapis first appeared alongside each other (and sometimes other Egyptian deities) as Soteres in the late third century , and were initially confined to Egypt and (marginally) Syria. They were apparently jointly recognized as Theoi Soteres for intervening in Ptolemy IV’s favour during the battle of Raphia in 217 .³³ From Egypt, Isis Soteira

²⁷ Dionysus in northern Greece: Drama and Beroia in Macedonia, Maroneia in Thrace. Mainland Greece: Delphi, Troezen, Lerna, Epidaurus. ²⁸ Kore in Cyzicus: see Chapter 2 nn. 136–8. ²⁹ Kore outside Cyzicus: Megalopolis (Paus. 8.31.1–2), Sparta (Paus. 3.13.2), Erythrae (I.Erythrai 201.a.49), Didyma (I.Didyma 504), Mytilene (IG XII.2 112), and Delphi (FD III.3 359). The supplement [Κόραι Σωτείρ]ᾶι̣ in IG XII.4 514.3 (Cos) is uncertain, as are many instances listed in H€ofer (1913b), cols 1244–6. ³⁰ I.Kato Makedonia I, no. 19; Lightfoot (2003), 77, 539. Observing that Atargatis is attested in Phistyon in Aetolia in the late third century, Nock (1933), 59, 282, suggested that the cult ‘was perhaps brought back by Aetolian mercenaries returning home’. ³¹ Diog. Laert. 5.15–16: Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira in Stagira in the Chalcidice. ³² SEG LXIII 571, no. 16 (second century ). Achilles Soter is already attested independently in Olbia (IGDOP 50) in the fifth century . ³³ The evidence is collected in Bricault (1999), appendix; see also Savvopoulos (2020), 87–8.

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      

Fig. 13 Geographical distribution of Apollo Soter.

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Fig. 14 Geographical distribution of Dionysus Soter.

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      

Fig. 15 Geographical distribution of Heracles Soter.

Fig. 16a Saviour gods attested in the Hellenistic period (central area enlarged in Fig. 16b).

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Fig. 16b Saviour gods attested in the Hellenistic period: mainland Greece and Asia Minor.

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Fig. 16c Saviour gods attested in Hellenistic Egypt.

(without Sarapis) made small inroads into the Aegean (Delos, Rhodes, Cos) and the West (Rome) in the later Hellenistic and Roman periods, and was more widely diffused than Sarapis Soter was independently. There is as yet no evidence of Isis Soteira and Sarapis Soter, whether independently or jointly, from mainland

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Greece, northern Greece, or Asia Minor, even though they were present in these regions without this epithet.³⁴ Late-comers in the use of the epithet include Hecate, Meter, Pan, and the Egyptian goddess Bubastis. Not until the second century  are they attested as ‘Saviours’, and, like Isis and Sarapis, only in limited areas outside the Greek mainland. References to Hecate Soteira concentrate in two regions in Asia Minor, specifically Lagina in Caria (where she was the chief goddess) in the late Hellenistic period, and the Tembris Valley in Phrygia in the imperial, but she remains rare outside Asia Minor.³⁵ Other Saviours appeared only on an ad hoc basis, and some remained purely local. The Phrygian mother goddess was called Soteira in isolated instances in Phrygia, Cyprus, and Egypt.³⁶ Probably by association with Artemis, the Egyptian goddess Bubastis appears fleetingly as Soteira in a dedication by a Greek family in Alexandria for the Ptolemaic royal house.³⁷ But unlike some other Egyptian deities, Bubastis did not appear again under this epithet. Beyond the Hellenistic period further gods acquired the title ‘saviour’ (Figs 17a–b). Probably owing to genealogical and/or cultic links with Asclepius, the epithet Soter/Soteira came to be extended to Hygieia and, less often, Telesphorus.³⁸ Hera Soteira appeared for the first time, by epithet sharing, alongside Zeus Soter in Panticapaeum in the Bosporus.³⁹ Tyche had long featured as Soteira in early Greek poetry but is unlikely to have received any actual cult under this title; it is not until the Roman imperial period that Tyche Soteira was worshipped in various parts of Greece.⁴⁰ Tyche appears to have been associated with Isis in a graffito in Pompeii, which is addressed to Eisityche Sozousa. Eileithyia appears in an isolated instance, under the two epithets Sozousa Episozousa, in a woman’s dedication in Athens or ³⁴ Apuleius refers to Isis as ‘saviouress’ (sospitatrix) three times in Apu. Met. 11.9, 15, 25, but it does not seem to be a title of her cult in Cenchreae east of Corinth. ³⁵ Lagina: e.g. I.Stratonikeia, nos. 507, 510, 516, 1108, and discussion in Chapter 2. Phrygia: see Appendix III. Hecate outside Asia Minor: IG XII.4 564 (Cos, second century , most probably due to influence from Caria); SEG LVII 680 (Tomis in Thrace, Roman period); I.Délos 2448 (Delos, undated); and possibly SEG XXXIV 989, cf. BE (1966), no. 525 (Tyndaris in Sicily, Roman period). ³⁶ Meter: Orph. Hymn 27.12 (Φρυγίης σώτειρα); SEG XXIII 687 (Cyprus); CCCA V, no. 4 (Canopus). ³⁷ CPI 179 = I.Louvre 16. Hdt. 2.137–8 identifies Bubastis with Artemis. Bernand in I.Louvre comments: ‘la déese Boubatis est appelée «salvatrice» parce qu’elle était la déesse des accouchements et la protectrice des enfants, comme Artémis et comme Isis’. Similarly, the editors of CPI think that the goddess’s epithet ‘may be related to her attribute as protector of motherhood’. But we saw in Chapter 3 that Artemis is never attested explicitly as Soteira in relation to childbirth or protection of children, though related words are used. ³⁸ Hygieia Soteira: IG IV².1 419, 570; TAM V.2 1350; I.Cret. I, xvii, no. 26 A. Hygieia and Asclepius as Soteres: IGBulg III 1628, IV 2034; IG XIV 402a; SEG XLII 870. Telesphorus Soter is rarely attested independently: IG IV².1 421, 561; AvP VIII.3, no. 126. See also IGBulg III 1476; CIG 6753: Asclepius, Hygieia, and Telesphorus as Theoi Soteres. ³⁹ Hera: CIRB 36, 76 (Panticapaeum). ⁴⁰ Tyche Soteira in poetry: Pind. Ol. 12.2; Aesch. Ag. 664; Soph. OT 80–1. Epigraphic evidence: MAMA IV 143.D.5 (Apollonia in Phrygia); I.Ephesos 1238, 3220 (Ephesus); I.Epidauros Asklepieion, no. 334 (Epidaurus).

Fig. 17a Saviour gods attested in the Roman period (central area enlarged in fig. 17b).

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Fig. 17b Saviour gods attested in the Roman period: mainland Greece and Asia Minor.

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Paros; this appears to have been a creation or adaptation by the individual.⁴¹ We also meet Hermes Soter and Helios Soter (often associated with another god) here and there.⁴² At the same time new ‘saviour’ gods not previously encountered arose in various parts of Asia Minor: Sozon, Men Soter, and Zeus Papas (or Papias) Soter.⁴³ Amid the emergence of these new ‘saviours’, some existing Soteres continued to extend to areas where they had not been previously honoured as such. The most remarkable one is Asclepius Soter, who, though rare in earlier periods, became ubiquitous in the imperial era for reasons which we shall examine below (Chapter 4.3.4).

4.1.3 ‘Mouvement Épiclétique’: Some Observations We have seen how, beginning in the late Archaic and early Classical periods with four major Olympian Soteres—Zeus, Athena, Poseidon, and Artemis—the epithet spread quickly in the following centuries to an increasing number of major and lesser gods, extending not just throughout ancient Greece itself, but also across much of the Mediterranean. It is difficult to identify one single centre where the epithet first emerged and then spread to the rest of the Greek world. Rather, the use of the epithet seems to have sprung up more or less independently and simultaneously in various regions. The lack of clear centres should not surprise us since the diffusion of the epithet was not a centralized process, unlike, for instance, the official adoption and propagation of the title for Ptolemy I by the Ptolemaic royal house across its kingdom and beyond, which we shall discuss in the following chapter. In the decades following the Persian Wars, a few Olympian figures called Soteres were dotted around the Greek mainland—Attica (Zeus Soter in the Athenian agora), Central Greece (Zeus Soter in Thebes), and the Megaris (Artemis in Megara). Outside mainland Greece, Zeus Soter is already attested as far afield as Sicily in the West (Himera), and the northern and possibly western

⁴¹ Eisityche: RICIS 504/0216. Eileithyia: IG II/III³ 4, 1152 (Athens or Paris?); discussed in Chapter 3. ⁴² Hermes: setting aside a literary reference in Aesch. Cho. 2 and an uncertain supplement in IG XII.7 249 (variously supplemented as Ἑρμέω ἱερὸν Σωτῆρ[ος] or by F. Hiller in the app. crit. as Ἑρμέω ἱερὸν Σωτήρ[ιχος ἀνέθηκεν]), Hermes only bore Soter as an epithet in the imperial period. These are I.Pisid.Cen., no. 5, XXVI line 131 (dice oracle); I.Perge, no. 207, XXVI line 1 (dice oracle); SEG XXXVIII 1562 (altar in Heliopolis in Syria); Harper (1968), 112, no. 3.06 (dedication to Kyrios Hermes Soter). See also IG II/III³ 4, 1347 (first century ), a dedication to Hermes by someone who was ‘saved’. Helios: Paus. 8.31.7 (Megalopolis); TAM V.3 1633 (Philadelphia in Lydia); Malay and Tranriver (2016), no. 1 (village of Parloai in Lydia); I.Prose 55 (Bousiris in Egypt); IGR I 1153 (Ptolemais Hermiou); SEG XXXIX 1502 (Hierapolis in Egypt); I.Gerasa, no. 195 (Gerasa). ⁴³ Sozon: see Appendix II. Men: CMRDM I, no. 142 (provenance unknown). Zeus Papas/Papias: MAMA V p. 154 R 19; MAMA V p. 103 (Nicolea in Phrygia); both texts are cited more clearly in ANRW II 18.3, 2018–19. According to Arrian (ap. Eust. Il. 5.408, p. 110 van der Valk), Papas was the Bithynian name of Zeus.

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coast of the Black Sea (Olbia, Chersonesus, Panticapaeum, and possibly Kallatis) (see Fig. 11 above). The fourth century saw a great expansion both in the number of Olympian gods who became Soteres and in their geographical spread, though the impressive increase could be partly the result of the greater amount of evidence available: they appeared in other parts of Central Greece, the Chalcidice in the north, Italy in the west, Cyrene in the south, Cyprus and the Aegean (Amorgos, Cinarus, Rhodes, and possibly Thera and Crete), and a few coastal cities of Asia Minor (Colophon, Cyzicus, Loryma) (Fig. 12 above). Only starting from the third century do we find secure evidence in Thessalian cities,⁴⁴ Egypt,⁴⁵ and the Persian Gulf. Evidence from Thrace proper, where datable, is lacking until the second century. By the end of the Hellenistic period, ‘saviour’ gods extended throughout Greece and the neighbouring areas where Greek gods and religious language were adopted (Fig. 16a above). In the imperial period, the furthest that they are known to have penetrated is Roman Britain, where two dedications to divine soteres have come to light from the town of Deva (modern Chester) (Fig. 17a above).⁴⁶ Spread all over the Mediterranean, this world of saviour gods was created, and constantly expanded and propagated, by a vast number of people in movement— soldiers, sailors, traders, colonists, pilgrims, worshippers, priests, and other cult personnel.⁴⁷ These people helped to bring the epithet to the far corners of the Mediterranean. At the same time the Greek epithet might be applied to non-Greek gods when they were brought to the Greek world. The last two chapters illustrated the different situations in which the Greeks appealed to and interacted with ‘saviour’ gods: different social groups were involved, and although some ‘saviour’ gods might have had a greater prominence in certain spheres of life than in others, no ‘saviour’ god was consistently or narrowly related to a particular social group or occupation. Their wide relevance to all members of society makes it difficult to explain the diffusion of the epithet using a network approach or Social Network Analysis, which emphasizes the relations and interactions between social entities, that is, when applied to Greek religion, the ‘social connectivity’ of worshippers.⁴⁸ If we must identify the most prominent group among those dedicators who explicitly stated their occupation, it would be military officers and soldiers. Nevertheless, their greater visibility in the evidence may be due to, among other factors, their perilous experience while on campaign, their desire to advertise their ⁴⁴ Except the worship of Poseidon Soter in 480  off the coast of Thessaly in Hdt. 7.192. ⁴⁵ An anomaly is CPI 107 = I.Delta I, p. 413, no. 1, a limestone stele inscribed Διὸς Σωτήρος, dated to the late fourth century  (?) based on its lettering. ⁴⁶ IG XIV 2547, SEG XXXVII 840; discussed in Chapter 4.5 below. ⁴⁷ On mobility of the Greeks, see Purcell (1990) (32 on the alleged Greek fear of seafaring), Horden and Purcell (2000), Malkin (2011), Garland (2014). ⁴⁸ Recent applications of network approaches, with varying levels of success, are e.g. Malkin, Constantapoulou, and Panagopoulou (2009); Collar (2013); Taylor and Vlassopoulos (2015); Brughmans, Collar, and Coward (2016); Concannon and Mazurek (2016).

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rank and role, and their better finances which enabled them to leave a permanent memorial. On the other hand, many anonymous farmers’ day-to-day prayers for soteria must have gone unrecorded on stone: considerations such as cost, the lack of need to identify themselves, and local epigraphic habits might have rendered it unnecessary. It would therefore be misleading to think that military men played a key role in the use and spread of the epithet Soter. Movement of Hellenistic armies was only one factor contributing to its diffusion; other factors and agents can at times be discerned—such as colonial ties,⁴⁹ cross-cultural interactions,⁵⁰ oracular instructions, and divine commands.⁵¹ More often than not, however, such processes are invisible in the evidence, and given the patchy nature of this, any attempt to deduce a coherent pattern or identify potential routes of transmission must remain speculative. Amid the vast number of ‘saviour’ gods and the extent of their distribution, no single mechanism or explanation can sufficiently account for how the epithet spread; a myriad factors might operate at the same time, and some might be more relevant for particular cults, places, and historical contexts than others. We can imagine that, if a god successfully ‘saved’ a worshipper or community, another would try it out. Regardless of their divine status (gods or heroes),⁵² origins (Greek or non-Greek), and identity, divine figures proven effective in offering soteria might be recognized as Soter. Some principal divinities of a city, it is true, were also called Soter or Soteira;⁵³ but it is by virtue of their ability to ‘save’, rather than their local prominence or poliadic status, that the gods received the title. As a result further gods could acquire the title, and the pantheon of divine saviours always had room for change and expansion. This does not mean, however, that all the gods received the epithet or carried it with equal frequency. The curious rarity of Poseidon Soter aside, the many Olympian gods who acquired the epithet by the end of the fourth century—Zeus, Artemis, Athena, Apollo, Dionysus, Dioscuri, Kore, and possibly Heracles—are often also the ones who continued to appear more frequently as ‘Saviours’ than did some later and lesser figures. By contrast, those Olympian figures who did not bear the epithet in the

⁴⁹ e.g. (1) The cult of Artemis Soteira might have spread from Megara to its colony Byzantium as Hecate Phosphoros (see Chapter 2). (2) I.Didyma 504 shows a prophet Damianos seeking Apollo’s permission to set up an altar in Didyma for his ‘ancestral goddess’ (πατρὶα θεά) Kore Sotira (sic) beside that of Demeter Karpotrophos, and to ordain the goddess’s epithet. He was probably from the Milesian colony Cyzicus (where Kore Soteira was prominent) or from Miletus. Discussed in Robert (1968), 583–4; Robert (1978a), 471 (167 in reprint); Fontenrose (1988), R30–1. (3) Artemis Soteira might have travelled with worshippers from Rhodes (IG XII.1 914–15) to its peraia Loryma (I.Rhod.Per., no. 6). ⁵⁰ e.g. CPI 169 = I.Delta I, pp. 925–8, no. 1; SB 5863 (Σαράπιδι Διονύσωι, Ἴσιδι Ἀϕροδίτηι, θεοῖς σωτῆρσι καὶ πολυϕόροις); CPI 179 = I.Louvre 16 (Bubastis Soteira). ⁵¹ e.g. Paus. 2.31.5 (Troezen); IG XII.5 913 (Tenos); IG XI.4, 1254–5 = RICIS 202/0171–2 (Delos). ⁵² Heroes: e.g. Macaria in Eur. Heracl. 586–9; Achilles Soter in IGDOP 50; Sosineos in SEG XXXIII 147.50; Sosipolis in Paus. 6.20.2–5. ⁵³ See Chapter 2.1.

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Classical period remained generally without it later⁵⁴—Aphrodite, Demeter, Hera, and Hermes appeared only on an ad hoc basis; Ares, Hephaestus, Hestia, and the Samothracian gods not at all. Many Soteres arose from the contexts of warfare and seafaring perhaps because of the great dangers and anxieties associated with these activities in antiquity. Common as military ‘saviours’ were Zeus (sometimes paired with Athena), Artemis, and to a lesser extent Heracles. Seafaring gave rise to the largest number of ‘saviours’, but the spread of the epithet within this sphere of activity is far from even, and each of the gods was relevant to maritime safety in different ways or modes of actions. As we saw in Chapter 3, some maritime gods frequently received the title (the Dioscuri), but others extremely rarely (Poseidon, Aphrodite) or not explicitly (the Samothracian gods), whereas gods not prominently linked to seafaring also feature from time to time (Apollo).⁵⁵ Healing gods only came to be called ‘saviour’ rather late: only from the late Hellenistic period onwards, after Asclepius was officially recognized as Soter in Pergamum by the Attalid royal house (see Chapter 4.3 below), did he become increasingly ubiquitous under this title, and his family members occasionally carried the epithet by virtue of their genealogical and/or cultic links with him. If Asclepius treated particular ailments of ordinary men, Apollo presided over nosoi in a much wider sense, and in particular loimoi.⁵⁶ However, Apollo was rarely called Soter in this respect, despite Aelian’s statement that ‘not only did he know how to save, but he was also the father of Asclepius, the saviour and adversary of diseases’.⁵⁷ This is only a rough overview of the most common Soteres involved in different spheres, and crossover of divine functions is not uncommon.

4.2 ‘Saviour’ Gods and Greek Polytheism: Larger Issues 4.2.1 One God or Many? Following recent advances in the study of cult epithets, it is by now a familiar fact that the Greeks might distinguish between one god’s different cults by adding different epithets.⁵⁸ But we have yet to explore in greater detail the sharing of the

⁵⁴ ‘Generally’: some traditional gods who did not normally have the epithet could be ad hoc ‘saviours’, on which see Chapter 4.2 below. ⁵⁵ See Chapter 3 for references. ⁵⁶ Parker (1983), 275ff.; Burkert (1985), 147; Graf (2009), 94–101. ⁵⁷ Ael. NA 10.49: καὶ αὐτὸν σώζειν εἰδότα καὶ μέντοι καὶ τὸν σωτῆρα καὶ νόσων ἀντίπαλον Ἀσκληπιὸν ϕύσαντα. ⁵⁸ Parker (2003); Versnel (2011), 60–87, 517–25. In his study of divine names and divine multiplicity in the ancient Near East, Allen (2015) argues that appending different epithets to the same divine name created independent gods considered to be separate and distinct. On the unity and plurality of the divine, see also the recent reflections in Pirenne-Delforge (2020), passim.

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same ‘trans-divine’ epithet by multiple gods, and its implications for the unity of the divine. Given so many Soteres and Soteirai in the Greek pantheon, to what extent were they similar to each other in function and character? How did the soteria offered compare from one god to another and from place to place? Long ago Gernet reminded us that the epithet, indicating a particular and temporary function, did not in fact obliterate the divine name and the identity that it expressed.⁵⁹ As should have become apparent in the course of this study, different gods bearing the same epithet Soter might perform different kinds of ‘saving’ functions and grant soteria in varying senses of the word. Their power was complementary to each other rather than substitutive, and one would need many of them for soteria. It should therefore not surprise us that Epidaurus had as many as nine Soteres (mostly late), and Attica no fewer than six.⁶⁰ As Burkert observed, it was the principle of polytheism that one needed many gods, especially when their workings were unpredictable, and the security of a polis and its members had to be guaranteed by all the gods together.⁶¹ Epigraphic evidence sometimes offers glimpses into the multiplicity of divine protectors worshippers and worshipping communities might turn to. After an earthquake which badly affected the eastern Aegean in the second century , for instance, the Coans made various thank-offerings ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας τῆς πόλεως to Zeus, Hera, Sarapis, Apollo, Asclepius, Poseidon Asphaleios, and ‘all the gods saving the polis’ (θεοὶ πάντες σώζοντες τὴν πόλιν).⁶² Among the many deities honoured in Thera by the Ptolemaic official Artemidoros of Perge are the Dioscuri Soteres, Hecate Phosphoros, the Samothracian gods, Poseidon Pelagios, and Artemis Pergaia Soteira.⁶³ Despite his particularly close relation with Asclepius, Aelius Aristides entertained no exclusive relationship with this ‘saviour’, and saw no problem in acknowledging other gods as such.⁶⁴ Unlike in Christianity (see Chapter 6), the open nature of Greek polytheism allowed worshippers to turn to multiple saviours at once. Each of these gods might contribute to the soteria of a community or individual in different ways, whether in the same sphere of activity or in different ones,⁶⁵ even though their particular contribution or action is not always discernible to us. Slightly different is the case of multiple cults of one deity bearing the same epithet. The Peloponnese, for instance, is densely populated with ten cults of

⁵⁹ Gernet and Boulanger (1932), 226. ⁶⁰ Epidaurus: Zeus, Apollo, Artemis, Asclepius, Dionysus, Hygieia, Linus, Telesphorus, and Tyche. Attica: Athena, Artemis, Asclepius, the Dioscuri, Poseidon, and Zeus. ⁶¹ Burkert (1995), 207–9. ⁶² IG XII.4 541–4, discussed in Chapter 2. ⁶³ IG XII.3 Suppl. 1333 (= IG XII.3 422), 1335b (= IG XII.3 421b), 1337, 1347, 1350. Artemidoros’ many dedications can be found in IG XII.3 421–2, IG XII.3 Suppl. 1333–50. ⁶⁴ Asclepius Soter: see Chapter 3, n. 170. Other divine ‘saviours’ in Aristides’ work are Zeus, Apollo, Sarapis, and the Aegean Sea. ⁶⁵ The structural approach emphasizes that different gods, when involved in the same domain, would contribute to it in different ways: see Introduction, nn. 37–8.

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Artemis Soteira:⁶⁶ to what extent were they considered the cults of the same goddess by the local people? In Attica, should we speak of one single Zeus Soter or at least three (in the Athenian agora, the Piraeus, and Rhamnus)? To what extent is Zeus Soter in Selinus the same as the Zeus Soter in Olbia? On one level there must have been some basic affinities between the different cults of Zeus Soter and between those of Artemis Soteira for them to share the same name and epithet, such as the same mythical traditions, Panhellenic persona, and portfolio of powers. On another level they had different local aetiological myths,⁶⁷ satisfied different needs, and had varying local roles and prominence. As SourvinouInwood reminded us, the attributes of a cult could be shaped by the worshipping community’s needs and circumstances as they developed, and we must not assume that a god’s local character would be the same everywhere or would necessarily mirror his Panhellenic persona.⁶⁸ Nor should we assume that each cult was static in function: each might respond to changing contexts and accommodate a multitude of functions. Zeus Soter in the Piraeus is a good example of a multi-functional god satisfying diverse needs.⁶⁹ We can imagine a situation where a divine saviour proven effective in one sphere would attract worshippers with other hopes, thus widening his portfolio of saving power and leading to the spread of his cult elsewhere. As a result the same divine name combined with the same epithet did not necessarily express the same thing: its precise function and character might vary, with different degrees, from one context to another and from place to place. The multiplication of homonymous cults and the expansion or diversification of their functions are analogous to a shop with different branches; each might operate on a different scale and tailor its services to local circumstances. Whether the Blackwells in Oxford is the same as the Blackwells in any other English city is a question which will provoke different answers depending on whom we ask and what he/she needs at a particular moment. Soter was such a broad title that it could accommodate a range of functions and changes in functions. Like the concept of soteria, the epithet was elastic: it had a built-in flexibility to meet the changing needs of worshippers and worshipping groups, and individuals might read into the same title different kinds of ‘saving’ roles and different meanings of soteria. This elasticity may seem more applicable to gods with many timai, such as Zeus and Artemis, but it is not entirely irrelevant to divine specialists either. Asclepius Soter was fundamentally a healer, but he could also, exceptionally, intervene on the battlefield and rescue at sea.⁷⁰

⁶⁶ These are located in Boeae, Epidaurus, Megalopolis, Megara, Messene, Pagae, Pellen, Phigaleia, Tegea, and Troezen. ⁶⁷ e.g. Artemis Soteira had different aetiological myths in Troezen (Paus. 2.31.1) and Boeae (Paus. 3.22.12). ⁶⁸ Sourvinou-Inwood (1978). ⁶⁹ Ar. Plut. 1178–84, Lycurg. Leoc. 17. ⁷⁰ IG II/III² 4357 = IG II/III³ 4, 673; IG IV².1 128.57–78; AvP VIII.3, no. 63.

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4.2.2 Panhellenic and Local ‘Saviours’ No other ‘saviour’ was as powerful and multivalent as Zeus Soter. Despite his widespread popularity among armies, it is difficult or misleading to define him as a ‘military’ saviour. In fact Zeus Soter was popular not because he had clearly defined functions, but precisely because his notorious vagueness offered more to his worshippers than just military protection and victory. His priests, sanctuaries, religious associations, and festivals are attested in many places.⁷¹ Apart from the Diisoteria celebrated in Athens from the fourth century on, a festival of Dios(s)oteria is attested on Rhodes and in Anisa in Cappadocia during the Hellenistic period. Soteria festivals in honour of Zeus Soter (sometimes jointly with other gods) are attested in Delphi, Priene, Megalopolis, and Akraiphia.⁷² Some of these publicly organized cults relate to deliverance from external domination (such as the ones in the Athenian agora and Delphi), liberation from tyranny (Priene), or the safeguarding of the city more generally (Megalopolis).⁷³ However, Zeus’ ‘saving’ roles are by no means limited to the political and public spheres. As we saw in the last chapter, he could also satisfy a range of personal needs: individuals turned to him for material security, safe voyages, successful lawsuits, and protection of major enterprises;⁷⁴ slaves were (figuratively) consecrated to him in manumission; farmers prayed to him on behalf of their crops and animals; survivors from earthquakes thanked him for deliverance; and Hellenistic gymnasia were sometimes entrusted to his protection.⁷⁵ His power extended to so many aspects of life that, as the cause and overseer of everything, Zeus Soter was no doubt the ‘most useful’ (χρησιμώτατος) of gods to mortals (Fig. 18).⁷⁶ Like her father, Artemis Soteira also exercised a plethora of ‘saving’ functions. Artemis was well known for nocturnal interventions in the military sphere, and was called Soteira in Megara and in Pellene for such assistance.⁷⁷ Yet her power was not limited to this: in Boeae in Arcadia she was supposedly worshipped for guiding the settlers where to dwell,⁷⁸ and in Tegea and various places she is attested as a protectress of

⁷¹ Associations: e.g. I.Olbia 71 = IGDOP 11 (thiasos of Zeus Soter in Olbia, fourth century ); Lindos II 252, 630, 683 (Soteriastai in Hellenistic Rhodes); IG XII.4 2811 (thiasos of Zeus Soter and Astarte on Cos, first century ). ⁷² Athens: e.g. IG II/III² 380, 676, 783, 971, 1006, 1008, 1496, 3483; Rhodes: Maiuri, Nuova Silloge, 19, line 8 (third century ); Anisa: Robert, Noms indigènes, 458–9, line 24 (second to first century ); Delphi: Nachtergael (1977), appendix II, nos. 2–11; Priene: I.Priene 11 = I.Priene IK 6; Megalopolis: IG V.2 432.15–17; Akraiphia: SEG XV 332, IG VII 2727. ⁷³ See Chapter 3. ⁷⁴ Ar. Plut. 1178–84. ⁷⁵ Gymnasia: SEG XLVI 1721 (Xanthos, 196 ); SEG L 572 (Apollonia Mygdonike in Macedonia, 106 ). See Chapter 3 for other aspects of saving by Zeus. ⁷⁶ Alexis fr. 234 K.–A. = Ath. 15.693a; Cornutus, Theol. Graec. 9.14–20. ⁷⁷ Megara: Paus. 1.40.2–3, 44.4. Pellene: Plut. Arat. 32, with Paus. 7.27.3. ⁷⁸ Boeae: Paus. 3.22.12. Here Artemis Soteira exercised the function usually expressed by the title Hegemone (‘Leader’). Conversely, Artemis sometimes bore the epithet Hegemone when acting as a Soteira (‘Liberator’) from tyranny: Malkin (2011), 183–4 n. 52.

Fig. 18 Zeus Soter, widely attested across the Greek world from the Archaic period onwards.

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the household. Outside the Peloponnese, Artemis Soteira was, inter alia, a guardian of gateways, a healer from plague, and a protectress in sailing (Fig. 19).⁷⁹ In contrast to the ubiquitous Zeus Soter and Artemis Soteira, who are widely attested under these titles across the Mediterranean, some saviour gods remain fairly localized: they might be prominent ‘saviours’ in a particular place, but their role and status might differ greatly in other localities. The most notable cases are Hecate and Kore. Hecate was not a popular Saviouress in the Greek world, but as we saw in Chapter 2, in her role as the principal goddess of Lagina in Caria, she saved her city from major military crises on more than one occasion, and probably also exercised other broader ‘saving’ functions. The goddess was already popular in western Asia Minor early on,⁸⁰ even though she is not attested under the title of Soteira there until the Hellenistic period. The centrality she enjoyed in her most important sanctuary in Lagina was unparalleled elsewhere, and one wonders about the extent to which Hecate Soteira in Lagina was the same in nature and identity as the goddess bearing the same name and epithet elsewhere in the Greek world.⁸¹ Outside Caria, in the Roman imperial period a group of epitaphs and dedications mentioning Hecate Soteira clusters in the Tembris Valley in Phrygia. Yet her character in the Phrygian inscriptions might well be different from that in Lagina, though precisely what ‘saving’ function she performed (if any) for the dead remains uncertain.⁸² Even in Asia Minor, therefore, Hecate Soteira might have different characters in two micro-regions and was not necessarily one and the same. Similarly to Hecate in Lagina, Kore Soteira owed her local prominence in Cyzicus to her status as the principal goddess. There she had an important Hellenistic festival called the Soteria (date of establishment unclear) and a major mystery cult in the imperial era. Nevertheless, little is known about how she acquired the epithet there, what saving functions she performed, and how she compares to Kore Soteira in other parts of Greece (Fig. 20).⁸³ Kore Soteira remains a figure whose character is hard to determine. What seems certain is that, despite the goddesses’ possible associations with the underworld in some contexts, neither Kore Soteira nor Hecate Soteira can be shown to have offered soteria in the sense of salvation in the afterlife.

⁷⁹ See Chapters 2 and 3. ⁸⁰ Nilsson (1906), 397–8, Burkert (1985), 171, and other references in Graf (1985), 258 n. 307. See also more recently Zografou (2010). ⁸¹ But see the extraordinary elevation of Hecate’s power in numerous spheres of life in Hes. Theog. 411–52. ⁸² See Appendix III. ⁸³ Kore in Cyzicus: see Chapter 2.4. Kore outside Cyzicus: see n. 29 above.

Fig. 19 Artemis Soteira from the Classical period down to the Roman imperial.

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Fig. 20 Kore Soteira in Cyzicus and other parts of ancient Greece.

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4.2.3 Ad Hoc ‘Saviours’ The discussion has so far concentrated on the more common divine ‘saviours’. A god not normally called Soter might, however, become an ad hoc ‘saviour’ as a result of exceptional events or other processes. As we saw in the last chapter in connection to earthquakes, Demeter was invoked by a group of women who, while celebrating her sacred rites in her sanctuary on Cos, encountered such an occurrence. On account of her protection Demeter became the Soteira of this group of women on this particular occasion; yet the epithet is not attested for the goddess on Cos or anywhere else before or afterwards.⁸⁴ Some gods might, exceptionally, acquire the title by association with another god or gods bearing it. In Egypt, a dedicator from Alexandria associated Dionysus and Aphrodite with Sarapis and Isis respectively, and called them θεοὶ σωτῆρες καὶ πολύϕοροι.⁸⁵ As we have seen, Dionysus was infrequently named Soter and Aphrodite hardly ever Soteira, but here they became ‘saviour gods and bringers of plenty’ by interpretatio Graeca of the Egyptian gods. On Delos, another highly cosmopolitan place, Aphrodite was juxtaposed with Isis and Astarte, and came to share Isis’ epithet Soteira in a dedication ‘to Isis Saviour Astarte Aphrodite FairVoyage Listener’ (Ἴσιδι Σωτείραι Ἀστάρτει Ἀϕροδίτηι Εὐπλοίαι ἐπ[ηκόωι]).⁸⁶ We have already met Pan Soter, who in El-Kanais was associated by Greek travellers with the Egyptian god Min. Pan did not in fact acquire the title from Min, who is not attested as Soter himself, but was thus named owing to the protective function he could perform in the specific physical environment of the eastern desert.⁸⁷ A different process by which a god might acquire the epithet has already been alluded to, namely by familial and/or cultic links. Gods worshipped together in a particular cult site might sometimes share the same epithet. Hera is not otherwise known as Soteira, but became one when paired with Zeus Soter in Panticapaeum.⁸⁸

4.3 Soter as a Cult Epithet: Divine Timai, Nature, and Other Factors Earlier in this book I have already raised the difficult question of why some gods were frequent bearers of the title Soter, whereas for others it made a fleeting ⁸⁴ IG XII.4 514. Demeter appears alongside Zeus as Soteres in several dice oracles in Asia Minor, e.g. TAM II 1222 V.5; TAM III.1 34 V.28; I.Pisid.Cen. 5 V.30; Naour (1980), no. 5, V.22–3. But the nature and date of the evidence make such references irrelevant to our purpose. On dice oracles, see Graf (2005), esp. 59–66 on divinities named; Nollé (2007). ⁸⁵ CPI 169; I.Delta I, pp. 925–8, no. 1; SB 5863: Σαράπιδι Διονύσωι, Ἴσιδι Ἀϕροδίτηι, θεοῖς σωτῆρσι καὶ πολυϕόροις, Νικαγόρας Ἀριστονίκου Ἀλεξανδρεύς. ⁸⁶ I.Délos 2132, with discussion in Bonnet (2015), 507–8; Parker (2017a), 43, 165. On the Phoenician Astarte and her possible association with Aphrodite, see Bonnet (1996), esp. 87–96; Parker (2002), 147–50; Budin (2004). ⁸⁷ Pan Soter: I.Kanais 25, 39, 43. ⁸⁸ CIRB, nos. 36, 76.

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appearance or not at all, even though they were also capable of saving. It is time to bring together the diverse material we have seen so far, and examine more closely the varying uses of this epithet in the Greek pantheon. Recent scholarship has made important progress in explaining the application of cult epithets among the gods. In a seminal article in 2003, Parker argues that the system of cult epithets intertwines two principles of organization, namely the topographical and the functional. The former locates a particular cult among a god’s many sanctuaries, whereas the latter identifies the relevant divine function among a god’s many timai. In other words, a cult epithet is a ‘focusing’ device for picking out a particular cult site or relevant aspect of divine power.⁸⁹ Parker’s model is particularly valuable for understanding epithets specific to a god or shared by a few gods,⁹⁰ and for the phenomenon of applying different epithets to a god when in different places and situations. However, it has less explanatory value for ‘trans-divine’ epithets shared by a large number of divinities, who had widely varying divine personae and portfolios of power. In the case of Soter, it is true, the title can identify a god’s capacity to save among other aspects of his power. Given epithets’ functional role in focusing upon a particular aspect of a god, we can expect multi-functional Olympian figures to bear the epithet Soter/ Soteira more frequently—Zeus, Artemis, Apollo, Athena, and so on. When calling these divinities Soter/Soteira, worshippers were emphasizing the gods’ saving attribute which was particularly desirable or necessary to them in a particular situation, and excluding other aspects which might not be suitable or relevant. By contrast, according to Parker’s model, divine specialists with limited timai in a particular sphere of activity would have less or no need for epithets to identify their specialist function. For this reason, therefore, Greek heroes such as Amphiaraus (a healing specialist) and Phrontis (a seafaring hero) did not normally have epithets despite their ability to ‘save’. Nevertheless, while this holds true in some cases, there are other cases which cannot be sufficiently or satisfactorily explained by Parker’s theory. Contrary to what his model postulates, we saw in the previous chapters that some divine specialists were in fact frequently called Soter, not least the Dioscuri and, in the later period, Asclepius. Further difficulties arise when we consider Poseidon, who had proved himself capable of ‘saving’ and worthy of the title Soter in the Persian Wars,⁹¹ and yet hardly appeared under this epithet again afterwards. The argument, if we follow Parker’s model, that Poseidon was the lord of the sea, and therefore did not need further specification to exercise his maritime function, is not adequate. Given the multivalence of his power in relation to the sea, we would expect seafarers to propitiate Poseidon for maritime safety, using the epithet Soter to highlight the protective aspect of his ⁸⁹ Parker (2003); more recently, Parker (2017a), ch. 1. ⁹⁰ e.g. Asphaleios for Poseidon, Keraunios for Zeus, Alexikakos for Apollo and Heracles. ⁹¹ Hdt. 7.188–92, with discussion in Chapter 1.

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power among his other potentials. Parker’s model does not explain variations in the application of the same epithet to different gods in different places across time, or to the same god in different spheres of activity and/or in different time periods.⁹² Apart from a god’s portfolio of power, other factors might well be at work when worshippers chose whether or not to apply an epithet to a god in a given situation. In what follows, I will seek to explore some of the possible considerations and tendencies that can be observed.

4.3.1 Poseidon: A Destructive ‘Saviour’ Apart from divine timai, the presence (or absence) of the epithet Soter/Soteira is likely to have been affected by a god’s divine nature and worshippers’ perception of it. The rarity of Poseidon under the title of Soter seems to be partly related to this. Inhabiting the border between the earth and the sea, Poseidon embodies the dangerous threat of collision: storms, tsunamis, earthquakes, and flooding are all closely connected to him. It was in his power to cause tremors on land and at sea as well as to stop them.⁹³ Although the god had both a positive and a negative side as most Olympian gods did, Poseidon’s negative aspects seem to outweigh his positive ones. His threatening aspect is a familiar theme in Greek literature. Already in Homer, Poseidon at first saves Ajax at sea, but angered by Ajax’s boastful claim that he has been saved despite the gods, Poseidon plunges him back into the sea with his trident and drowns him.⁹⁴ To return to the Archaic temple reputedly built by Odysseus on Mt Boreius, Athena’s epithet Soteira and Poseidon’s lack of it reflect nicely Odysseus’ opposing relations with these two divinities in Homer. Athena almost always protects him,⁹⁵ whereas Poseidon is most hostile to him and cannot suitably be called Soter. The god’s image in the Homeric epics stands in stark contrast to his description in the Homeric Hymn as ‘saviour of ships’.⁹⁶ During the Persian Wars, according to Herodotus, Poseidon first became Soter of the Greeks by wrecking much of the enemy’s fleet, that is, by a mode of destruction. The relationship between gods in Greek literature and gods in lived religion has been much discussed;⁹⁷ what is certain is that the Greeks’

⁹² e.g. Artemis Soteira was popular in warfare, but nearly absent under the same title in childbirth. Asclepius Soter was extremely rare in the earlier periods, but became much more common in later ones. ⁹³ On Poseidon, see e.g. Schachermeyr (1950); Bremmer (1987); Mylonopoulos (2003); Graf (2010); Doyen (2011); Pevnick (2014); Thély (2016), ch. 1 (with some very good insights). ⁹⁴ Hom. Od. 4.499–511. ⁹⁵ See also Soph. Phil. 134: Odysseus appeals to Hermes and Athena Polias Nike, who always saves him (Νίκη τ᾽ Ἀθάνα Πολιάς, ἣ σῴζει μ᾽ ἀεί). ⁹⁶ Hymn. Hom. 22.5. ⁹⁷ e.g. Mikalson (1991); Sourvinou-Inwood (1997); Sourvinou-Inwood (2003); Versnel (2011), 517–25; Martin (2016).

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conceptualizations of Poseidon must have helped to shape, and were in turn shaped by, his image in the Homeric epics and other Greek literature. Poseidon’s saving power therefore sprung perversely from his very power to destroy, whereas the Dioscuri were predominantly friendly helpers of mankind. It would be more appropriate to propitiate Poseidon not to cause harm before setting sail, but when caught in a tempest, the Greeks were much more likely to call upon the Dioscuri or other gods for rescue. Potentially revealing in this respect is a dedication on Icaros (modern Failaka) seen in Chapter 3, dedicated ‘to Zeus Soter, Poseidon, Artemis Soteira’ by the Athenian commander Soteles and his troops.⁹⁸ It is telling that Poseidon, bearing no epithet, is sandwiched between Zeus Soter and Artemis Soteira, as if he was the source of evil whose malicious power was countered by the two Saviours. Could it be that Poseidon was seen as the author of disasters at sea rather than intrinsically a ‘saviour’? This is just one example among others where Poseidon appears alongside a divine ‘saviour’ but is not himself so called. As pointed out in the last chapter, it was in fact much more common to juxtapose Poseidon with another divine figure called Soter than to attach the epithet to him.⁹⁹ Where earthquake is concerned, Poseidon similarly exercised the dual potential to cause tremors and to stop them. Aelius Aristides refers to Poseidon’s power both ‘to shake and to save’ (κινεῖν τε καὶ σῴζειν). In the course of discussing Apollo’s opposing effects in relation to plague, Macrobius cites the case of ‘Neptune, whom people call now Enosichthon, or “Earth-shaker”, now Asphalion, or “He who steadies” ’.¹⁰⁰ As we saw in the last chapter, Asphaleios is the commonest title for invoking Poseidon when earthquakes occurred, and the word—combining the negative prefix ἀ- and the transitive verb σϕάλλω (‘make to fall’)—literally means ‘not to cause to tumble’.¹⁰¹ Similar hopes are expressed in a different way by a dedicator in Gerasa, by juxtaposing Poseidon’s epithets Enosichthon (‘Earth-shaker’) and Soter. This is a rare attestation of Poseidon under the title of Soter; it seems to be especially added here to offset the god’s

⁹⁸ I.Estremo Oriente, no. 416 (with bibliography). Discussed in Chapter 3. ⁹⁹ e.g. IG IV 840 = IG IV².2 1236; IG IV 841 (Zeus Soter and Poseidon at Kalauria); Arr. Indica 36.3 (Zeus Soter, Heracles, Apollo Alexikakos, Poseidon, and all the gods of the sea); IG XII.5 913 (Zeus Soter, Poseidon Asphaleios, Athena Soteira, Artemis Orthosia, and six other gods); Aristid. Or. 46.1 Keil (Zeus Soter and Poseidon Asphaleios); and other inscriptions in Chapter 3 n. 140 concerning earthquakes. Fenet (2016), 184 and I reached the same observation on this independently. ¹⁰⁰ Aristid. Or. 20.23 Keil; Macrob. 1.17.22 (tr. Loeb). ¹⁰¹ According to Paus. 7.21.7, Asphaleios is a standard cult epithet of Poseidon along with Pelagios and Hippios. Poseidon Asphaleios: e.g. Ar. Ach. 682 (fifth century); Meritt (1935), no. 1.17 (fourth century, Colophon); SEG XV 517, line 12 (mid-third century, chronicle of Archilochus from Paros); I.Didyma 132 (second century , Didyma); IG XII.4 544, 622 (second century , Cos); and other instances in n. 99 above. See also Poseidon Panasphalios in IG XII Suppl. 30 (first to second century , Mytilene).

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dangerous potential to shake the earth, and to supplicate the god to adopt a benevolent attitude rather than otherwise.¹⁰² It would appear that Poseidon was rarely called Soter, not because he presided over the sea (and therefore did not need the epithet), but more because of the perception that he was a malicious trouble-maker rather than a ‘saviour’. Many worshippers probably honoured Poseidon out of fear more than gratitude; prayers and sacrifices to the god might have been offered in an attempt to propitiate him. It may be for similar reasons that Ares lacked the epithet Soter: Ares symbolized the disorderly, disruptive, and destructive forces of war.¹⁰³ Similar ambivalence might have been felt towards Artemis where childbirth is concerned: otherwise a popular ‘saviouress’ in other spheres of life, Artemis was not called Soteira when this occurred probably because of her potential to kill women in labour.¹⁰⁴ As Hera says to Artemis in the Iliad, ‘it was against women that Zeus made you a lion, and granted you to slay whomever of them you are minded to’.¹⁰⁵ What is presented here is nevertheless only one interpretation of these divinities. It does not rule out other, and even multiple perceptions of the same gods in Greek polytheism. Aelius Aristides, in his Isthmian oration regarding Poseidon, praises the god’s friendliness to mankind, and elsewhere tells how ‘those who have escaped dangers at sea credit the good deed equally to Poseidon and Heracles’. Nevertheless, as with many other (philosophically influenced) literary works in this period, Aristides tends to emphasize the gods’ virtues and philanthropy towards mankind, and his views cannot be taken to represent those of ordinary Greeks in his time or earlier.¹⁰⁶

4.3.2 Divine Specialists: The Dioscuri and the Samothracian Gods Both Poseidon and the Dioscuri are described as ‘saviours of ships’ as early as the Homeric Hymns, but the Dioscuri proved far more popular as ‘saviours’ among seafarers (see Fig. 21). Their ubiquity under the epithet Soteres would go against Parker’s model, according to which functional epithets such as Soter are not necessary or less so for divine specialists with clearly circumscribed timai. The frequent attestation of the Dioscuri Soteres may be related to their divine nature and modality of ‘saving’, which are very different compared to Poseidon: whereas Poseidon might save by causing destruction (to one’s enemies) or by suppressing ¹⁰² I.Gerasa, no. 39 (discussed in Chapter 3.10). Cf. Zeus Keraunios Soter in I.Milet VI.3 1257, Zeus Chalazios Soter in Hasluck (1904), 21–3, no. 4, both of which similarly juxtapose a god’s power to protect and to cause harm. ¹⁰³ Hymn. Hom. Mart. 2 describes Ares as πολισσόος. However, this is without parallels to the best of my knowledge, and the hymn is a late intruder from the fifth century . ¹⁰⁴ Chapter 3.8. . ¹⁰⁵ Hom. Il. 21.483–4 (tr. Loeb). Cf. Hom. Il. 6.205, 428, Od. 11.172–3, 198–9. ¹⁰⁶ Aristid. Or. 40.12 (quotation), 46.9–16 Keil. On Aristides’ theology, see Parker (2016).

Fig. 21 Dioscuri Soteres from the Classical period down to the Roman imperial.

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his anger, the Dioscuri would intervene by coming to the immediate rescue of seafarers in perils. Given their major function in maritime rescue and their generally benevolent character, the twin gods are more suitably called ‘saviours’ than Poseidon.¹⁰⁷ It seems likely that worshippers would appeal to them as ‘saviours’ when calling for help, and again when giving thanks to them for the soteria attained. When used retrospectively, especially in dedications, the epithet often commemorated the gods’ ‘saving’ intervention and the dedicator’s deliverance on the one hand, and expressed the hope of continued protection on the other. Instead of identifying or picking out an aspect of their power, therefore, in the case of the Dioscuri the epithet Soteres was used more as a means of emphasizing the gods’ saving power and commemorating the saving event. If the frequent attestation of the Dioscuri under the title of Soteres can be thus explained, it is nevertheless difficult to understand the lack of the same epithet for the Samothracian gods, who were similarly specialist helpers at sea. Cognates words of sozein and soteria are sometimes used to refer to their power to deliver from dangers at sea, but the epithet Soteres is not attested for them.¹⁰⁸ Might initiates in the Samothracian Mysteries have been given specific symbola to use in perils at sea? But even so, nothing would prevent the Greeks from giving thanks to these gods as Soteres after they came off from dangers. Despite the similar maritime functions exercised by the Dioscuri and the Samothracian gods, their protection seems to have worked in different ways. In Greek art and literature the Dioscuri are often represented graphically as galloping on horseback and coming to the rescue of seafarers caught in storms, bringing light to vessels in the midst of darkness.¹⁰⁹ By contrast, it is much more difficult to see the Samothracian gods in action: their divine operation and attributes are as enigmatic as their identity. Some literary sources speak vaguely of their epiphaneia when invoked in tempests, whereas others mention a purple fillet which initiates could use in danger.¹¹⁰ Yet any epiphaneia on their part seems unlikely to be in anthropomorphic forms and in discernible actions like those of the Dioscuri.¹¹¹ Could it be that the epithet Soter tends to move towards gods who could act in a more human-like way? The capacity of the word soter to refer to both human beings and divine figures might have in some way facilitated this tendency. Its frequent application to

¹⁰⁷ But it is disputed whether the Dioscuri might also be a bad sign to seafarers: see Artem. 2.37; Cook (1914–40), vol. 1, 773–4. ¹⁰⁸ Except in Orph. Hymn 38 (lines 3, 24); see Chapter 3 n. 54. ¹⁰⁹ Literary representations: Hymn. Hom. 33.6–19; Alcaeus fr. 34. Iconographical representations: e.g. Vianu (2001), 132, no. 178, pl. 73 a; Athens, NM 1409; Louvre MA746; LIMC III.1 s.v. Dioskouroi, nos. 1–25, 118. ¹¹⁰ e.g. Diod. Sic. 5.49.5 (the gods’ epiphaneia when called upon); Schol. vet. Ar. Pax. 277b (epiphaneia); Schol. Apoll. Rh. 1.917b (purple fillets). ¹¹¹ It may be telling that Petridou (2015) does not discuss the epiphaneia of the Samothracian gods in her chapter on ‘epiphanies in crisis’ or elsewhere in her book.

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Hellenistic kings (see Chapter 5) therefore might have further encouraged a level of cross-fertilization, affecting how the Greeks imagined and perceived divine ‘saviours’. As we shall see shortly, another human-like specialist frequently called Soter is Asclepius in the later period.

4.3.3 ‘Saving’ and ‘Blessing’ Gods: Aphrodite and Demeter Like the Samothracian gods, Aphrodite was a friendly helper to seafarers but is rarely attested under the epithet Soteira. As discussed in Chapter 3, Aphrodite had many other epithets signifying her connection to the sea, not least Euploia (‘FairSailing’), Galenaia (‘Calmer’), and Pontia (‘of the Deep Sea’), and perhaps did not need the title Soteira partly because of this.¹¹² Another factor appears to relate to her mode of saving. Although Aphrodite could aid at sea, she seems to have helped mariners less by actively intervening or rescuing them from perils, and more by granting favourable conditions for completing a voyage—she soothed voyages by providing smooth sailing, stilling the sea, granting fragrance of myrtle for the seasick, and water to quench thirst—all this is in keeping with the goddess’s more general ability to conciliate and ensure harmony.¹¹³ Aphrodite, then, offered protection at sea in ways very different from the direct intervention of the Dioscuri. I mentioned in the earlier chapters that the Greek ‘saviour’ gods could both deliver from actual dangers and preserve one’s existing well-being, that is, to recall the Old Testament scholar Westermann’s terminology, they had both a ‘saving’ aspect and a ‘blessing’ one.¹¹⁴ It is tempting to think that the ‘blessing’ aspect alone was not always sufficient to make a Greek god ‘saviour’, and that one had to be able to perform both functions to earn the title. This may explain why such divinities as Aphrodite and Demeter are rarely attested as Soteira. The explanation seems particularly pertinent for Demeter, who blessed mankind with the gift of grain but could not grant immediate relief from agricultural hazards. The goddess oversaw the physical sustenance of the world by providing grain, while remaining in the background almost unnoticed. When crop failure and famines struck, the Greeks would more probably appeal to Zeus Soter for favourable weather conditions and/or to human benefactors for supplies of grain.¹¹⁵ Nevertheless, this proposition is undermined by cases where

¹¹² See Chapter 3 n. 56 on these related epithets, and n. 57 on the phrase ‘Aphrodite Sozousa’, which is variously interpreted. ¹¹³ e.g. Gow–Page, HE, Anyte XV = Anth. Pal. 9.144 (a fair voyage); Gow–Page, HE, Posidippus XIII = Ath. 7.318d (smooth sailing and smoothing the sea); Polycharmus FGrH 640 F 1 = Ath. 15.675f–676c (fragrance of myrtle); Plut. Quaest. Graec. 303c (water); and Chapter 3 n. 55. ¹¹⁴ Westermann (1979), 26–9, 44–5; discussed in the Introduction. ¹¹⁵ Weather and agriculture: see Chapter 2 nn. 101–2 (Zeus Soter), n. 104 (human soteres).

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‘saviour’ gods were invoked in a precautionary context and without any links to specific crises.¹¹⁶

4.3.4 Standardized ‘Saviours’: Asclepius and Hecate in Later Periods Asclepius was both a ‘saving’ and ‘blessing’ god; he could provide cures from illness and preserve good health, and the Greeks frequently prayed to him for both kinds of soteria. Already in the fourth century , soon after his cult was established on the south slope of the Athenian acropolis, Asclepius received various private dedications testifying to his power to ‘save’ from various kinds of sufferings.¹¹⁷ Nevertheless, the god is hardly attested under the epithet Soter in the Classical and early Hellenistic periods, and probably did not need it to activate his healing power. After a momentary appearance strangely in a fourth-century military conflict (see below), Asclepius never appeared as ‘saviour’ again until the later Hellenistic period, whereas the Roman era saw a remarkable increase in attestations of the god under this title across the Greek world (Fig. 22 below).¹¹⁸ How, then, can we understand the changing use of the epithet for Asclepius over time, and to what extent does that relate to the timai of the god? We learn from a paean of Isyllos (see Chapter 2) how Asclepius first acquired the epithet Soter: rather bizarrely, for defending the Spartans against the invasion of Philip of Macedon.¹¹⁹ When the Spartans proclaimed Asclepius as their Soter, they seem to be transposing to him an epithet familiar from other gods active in the military sphere. Rather than focusing on an existing aspect of Asclepius and thereby circumscribing his time, Soter here refers to a new function in Asclepius’ portfolio of power: he is attributed an aspect of saving not normally associated with him. Isyllos’ paean illustrates how a healer familiar throughout Greece might assume a remarkably different role in a particular context; but even here Asclepius is unlikely to have completely shed his original function: once he stripped his arms and gleaming armour, he would be ready to offer cures as usual.

¹¹⁶ e.g. IG XII.3 Suppl. 1350 (Artemidorus’ dedication to Artemis Soteira for long life); MDAI(A) 29 (1904), p. 301 (dedication to Zeus Soter and Heracles ‘for [crops and] grains’); IGBulg III 1805, pl. 153 (thank-offering to Zeus Soter for oxen). ¹¹⁷ IG II/III² 4356–7, CEG 755 = IG II/III³ 4, 672–3, 718. ¹¹⁸ Asclepius Soter in the Hellenistic period: SEG L 1211 (Pergamum, after 125 ), and several other second-century Pergamene inscriptions in n. 124 below. An isolated and supposedly secondcentury  attestation of Ascle[pius] | So[ter] from Sunium (SEG XVI 177 = IG II/III³ 4, 899) is too fragmentary to be certain; cf. Riethmüller (2005), vol. 2, 38–41, followed by Gorrini (2015), 149; the text is not in Melfi (2007–). ¹¹⁹ IG IV².1 128.57–78.

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Asclepius Soter does not appear anywhere again in the fourth and third centuries .¹²⁰ In the Roman imperial period, however, Asclepius Soter became extremely common. When Höfer in Ausführliches Lexikon der griechischen und römischen Mythologie said that ‘kein Gott erhält nächst Zeus so häufig die Epiklesis Σωτήρ als Asklepios’,¹²¹ the bulk of his evidence in fact came from the Roman era. The change in the later period seems to have followed his official recognition as Soter in Pergamum by the Attalid royal house in the second century , that is, about two centuries after Asclepius’ cult was established in Pergamum in the fourth. Asclepius seems to have been honoured with the title Soter and the festival Soteria after Eumenes II’s successful encounter with the Galatians (168–166 ), during which the king fell seriously ill and presumably recovered thanks to the god.¹²² If this is indeed how Asclepius first became Soter in Pergamum, this would be a ‘commemorative’ epithet, intended to honour the god’s saving intervention on the one hand, and possibly on the other to echo Eumenes II’s own title as Soter, newly earned for defeating the Gauls.¹²³ Royal impetus probably caused Asclepius in Pergamum to be formally recognized as ‘Saviour’; from then on references to Asclepius Soter became increasingly common. He appears under this title in various second-century inscriptions in Pergamum, and Pergamene coins from the 130s onwards bear the legend Ἀσκληπιοῦ Σωτῆρος on the reverse.¹²⁴ As the fame and prestige of the Asclepieum at Pergamum grew in the imperial era, Asclepius’ title also spread swiftly and widely to other places. Outside Pergamum, Asclepius bore this epithet in an abundance of inscriptions of imperial date in other parts of Asia Minor, the Aegean islands, Athens, Epidaurus, Macedonia, Thrace, Rome, and elsewhere (Fig. 22). It is noteworthy that the epithet frequently preceded the theonym, both in Pergamum and elsewhere—almost invariably where his priesthood, officials, and temple are mentioned in public inscriptions (though not on Pergamene coins), and less consistently in private dedications—and this preference may suggest a level of influence following Attalid usage and/or mutual influence between different Greek poleis.

¹²⁰ A fourth-century verse inscription from Athens, IG II/III² 4368 = IG II/III³ 4, 700, gives thanks to the god as μέγας σωτήρ. But the word soter does not function here as Asclepius’ cult epithet. ¹²¹ Höfer (1909–15c) in Roscher, Lex. IV, s.v. Soter, col. 1250. ¹²² The king’s illness: Livy 45.34.11. The festival Soteria kai Herakleia at Pergamum, previously associated with the war between Attalus II and Prusias II by Robert (1984), is now thought to have been instituted by Eumenes II after his conflict with the Galatians: see Wörrle (2000), 561–2. The second celebration of the festival is mentioned in AvP VIII.3, no. 3. ¹²³ Eumenes II’s title Soter will be discussed in Chapter 5. ¹²⁴ Second-century attestations: e.g. I.Pergamon 246 = OGIS 332 (138–133 ); AvP VIII.3, nos. 65, 70, 97. Coins: BMC Mysia, 128ff., nos. 150–1, 154–7, 171. The Hellenistic cult of Asclepius Soter in Pergamum should be distinguished from the much later one of Zeus Soter Asclepius (AvP VIII.3, no. 63), whose round temple was erected in Hadrian’s reign. On Asclepius Soter in Pergamum, see Ohlemutz (1940), 144–5, 154–6.

Fig. 22 Asclepius Soter, attested mainly in the later Hellenistic and Roman periods.

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Asclepius provides us with a case study where the same god appears under the same epithet with greatly varying frequency in different time periods owing to various factors and stimuli. The recognition conferred by the Attalids, if this is indeed how Asclepius became Soter in Pergamum, shows that royal impetus could facilitate the use and spread of a divine epithet (and not just the kings’ royal titles, on which see Chapter 5). After saving Eumenes II from his illness, the god came to be widely called Soter in reference to his healing power, when previously he probably did not need this title when performing the same function. Over time, however, its original meaning was sometimes much weakened, when the epithet was used habitually of the god as a more or less fixed title, regardless of whether the Greeks were referring to his saving function. This further suggests that the use of cult epithets could be affected by fashion: from about the end of the Hellenistic period onwards, it became increasingly fashionable to refer to the god as ‘Soter Asclepius’. The rarity of Asclepius Soter (or Soter Asclepius) in the Classical and early Hellenistic periods, and the mass of evidence of imperial date, demonstrates not so much the changing power or increased popularity of the god, as the changing use of Soter from an epithet commemorating a particular divine intervention to its banal and standardized use in the later period. Asclepius was not the only divinity whose epithet seems to have lost its original force over time. Many references to Hecate as Soteira in the imperial period seem to have been similarly affected by what we may call ‘épiclétique fashion’. A group of dedicatory and funeral inscriptions from Roman Phrygia refer to the goddess regularly as Soteira Hecate. Even though the onomastic configurations of the gods are variable and flexible,¹²⁵ it may be significant in this case that all these Phrygian inscriptions invariably have the epithet Soteira preceding the divine name, a word order similarly adopted in a great number of references to Soter Asclepius in about the same time period. It is not clear what ‘saving’ function Hecate was invoked to perform in these inscriptions, and it seems likely that the goddess had come to be referred to habitually as ‘Soteira Hecate’ in this part of Roman Asia Minor. This transition of the epithet in the later period to more banal uses is nonetheless not clearcut or absolute, as standardized uses in certain cases need not prevent it from being re-activated in other contexts and being used in the traditional way—to emphasize, signify, and commemorate the ‘saving’ power of the gods. Even in the early first century , as we saw in Chapter 2, Lagina could honour its chief goddess Hecate as Soteira Epiphanes for her military intervention probably in the Mithridatic War.¹²⁶ We have seen that a variety of factors could have affected the uneven application of the epithet Soter/Soteira in the Greek pantheon. Depending on context and the gods concerned, one or more factors might have been at work, and the ways in ¹²⁵ As rightly emphasized by Bonnet et al. (2018). ¹²⁶ I.Stratonikeia, no. 507 (81 ); discussed in Chapter 2.

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which the same epithet was used might be different. While various trends and patterns can be identified as discussed above, no single explanation can account for the diversity of the phenomenon. Unlike some other functional epithets more or less specific to a particular divinity, which forms the focus of Parker’s important article,¹²⁷ Soter is a ‘trans-divine’ epithet capable of a variety of modalities in its application. It defies being captured by any single theory, as its force and function could change from one god to another and from context to context. Different ways of naming the gods, and the varying ways in which the same epithet was used of different gods in different places and time periods, reflect the varying choices, approaches to, and perceptions of the divine by different worshippers and worshipping groups. The flexibility, elasticity, and multiplicity of ways in which the same epithet could be used is what makes the theoretical analysis of this ‘transdivine’ epithet so challenging and yet fascinating.

4.4 The Worship of (Unnamed) Soter, Soteira, and Soteria As we have seen throughout this study, the epithets Soter and Soteira are usually used in combination with the name of a divinity. But sometimes the theonym may be omitted or suppressed, and a god can be referred to using the epithet alone. We have already come across the unnamed Soteira in Aristophanes’ Frogs, most probably meaning Athena Soteira, and also an individual’s remarkable reference to ‘my saviouress’ in Epidaurus, referring to Hygieia.¹²⁸ A group of ‘saviour’ gods may be referred to collectively as θεοὶ σωτῆρες or, less often, θεοὶ σωτήριοι or θεοὶ σώζοντες (or similar) without identifying each of them.¹²⁹ Specific gods may often lie behind the anonymous group ‘saving gods’, or this can be a generic term for all the gods who protected an individual or a community; but it does not seem to be a vague expression for ‘all the gods in general’. When Seleucus I sent lavish dedications to the sanctuary of Apollo at Didyma ‘as offerings to the Saviour Gods’ (εἰς ἀνάθεσιν τοῖς θεοῖς τοῖς Σωτῆρσι), the Theoi Soteres are most probably the gods at Didyma to whom Seleucus I had prayed for protection and was now praying for the soteria of the royal family and the city, including, among others, Zeus Soter and the unnamed Soteira in the same text.¹³⁰ We have already seen ¹²⁷ Parker (2003). ¹²⁸ Ar. Ran. 378–81; IG IV².1 570. The phenomenon is discussed in Jim (2015). ¹²⁹ e.g. Soph. El. 281; I.Priene 11 = I.Priene IK 6; CPI 584 = Bowman, Crowther, and Savvopoulos (2016), 106–7, no. 5; IG IV 1553; IG XII.4 542; I.Assos 28a; and other examples in Graf (2017). ¹³⁰ I.Didyma 424 = OGIS 214 (288/7 ), lines 14–15 (Theoi Soteres), 43 (Zeus Soter), 45 (Theoi Soteres), 48 (Soteira). See lines 19–20: ὑγιαινόντων ἡμῶν καὶ εὐτυχούν τῶν καὶ τῆς πόλεως διαμενούσης σώας (‘when we are healthy and have good fortune and your city remains safe’), which, as Welles noted in Royal Correspondence, no. 5, is a variant of the more common ὑπερ τῆς ὑγιείας καὶ εὐτυχίας ἡμῶν καὶ τῆς σωτηρίας τῆς πόλεως. Cf. Dittenburger in OGIS 214 n. 9; Ma (2014), 120: ‘l’épithète «saveur» peut s’appliquer à toutes les divinités, et il ne doit pas s’agir de divinités particulières à Milet: le roi fait une offrande aux dieux en général’.

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how, after Priene was liberated from tyranny in the early third century, its citizens attributed its deliverance to θεοὶ σώισαντες, presumably referring collectively to the gods who had helped the city, including Zeus S[oter] and [Athena] Nike, who were singled out for special mention.¹³¹ Some worshippers and worshipping communities might consider it unnecessary to name a god or gods, whose identity might be obvious in a particular place or context.¹³² Others might have found it difficult to identify with certainty the intervention of particular gods given the limits of human perception: the phrase theoi soteres was comprehensive enough that one need not fear leaving any out. This might well be why, in a thank-offering commemorating the deliverance of Cos from an earthquake, the phrase ‘to all the gods saving the polis’ (θεοὶ πάντες σώζοντες τὴν πόλιν) was added after Zeus and Hera.¹³³ Whether the Greeks had particular gods in mind or not, it was probably not always important to name them: in all these cases what was emphasized was the gods’ power to save rather than their identity.¹³⁴ So central was the concern for soteria to the Greeks that the abstract concept might receive cult and worship in itself. In the sanctuary of Asclepius in Epidaurus is an altar inscribed with a single word Σωτηρίαι; this seems to indicate the worship of the abstract soteria rather than an unnamed goddess called Soteira.¹³⁵ Elsewhere in the Peloponnese, Pausanias records two sanctuaries of Soteria in Achaea, one in Aegium, another in Patrae, the latter supposedly connected to the hero Eurypylus’ recovery from madness. Both shrines had images of Soteria, whose representation we can only guess, and indeed the image in Aegium was, according to Pausanias, seen by none but the priests.¹³⁶ In all these cases the saving aspect of the gods was so important that it seems to have acquired independence and become an autonomous figure receiving worship in itself. The phenomenon of worshipping an abstract concept is not widespread in ancient Greece as far as soteria is concerned, but is much more common for other concepts such as nike, homonia, hygieia, and peitho.¹³⁷ Roman religion had a similar practice of deifying abstractions, including salus, which is the closest Latin equivalent for the Greek soteria (see Appendix IV). A related phenomenon concerns divinities with theonyms (not epithets) related to saving. In Attica was a hero called Sosineos (‘Save-Ship’) in Thorikos, and in ¹³¹ I.Priene 11 = I.Priene IK 6. See also I.Eleusis 486 = IG II/III³ 4, 1050: Soteres Theoi and Soteres Theai of the emperors seem to be gods and goddesses who protected the emperors, not Demeter and Kore specifically. ¹³² e.g. IG IV².1 512 (Asclepius and Hygieia in Epidaurus); I.Assos 28a (Dioscuri in a maritime context); I.Fayoum III 203 (Dioscuri or Isis and Sarapis). ¹³³ IG XII.4 542; discussed in Chapter 2. ¹³⁴ See Vernant (1985), esp. 362–5, for the idea that the Greek gods were powers, not persons. ¹³⁵ IG IV 1319 and IG IV².1 310 have Σωτηρίαι, but Peek in I.Epidauros Asklepieion, no. 133, thought that Σωτηρίας is on the stone. ¹³⁶ IG IV².1 310 (Epidaurus); Paus. 7.21.6–7 (Patrae), 7.24.3 (Aegium). ¹³⁷ On personifications cults, see Deubner (1902–9), Stafford (2000), and, in Roman religion, Axtell (1907), Clark (2007).

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Elis another one called Sosipolis.¹³⁸ In the Roman imperial period, we further encounter in Ephesus the cult of Sopolis (the personification of ‘Saviour of the polis’).¹³⁹ Instead of being an aspect of a god among many, in these cases ‘saving’ power was the divine figure’s sole divine function and dominated his whole divine persona. We shall encounter another god called Sozon (‘The Saving One’) in Thrace and various parts of Anatalia, but the process at work seems to be different from what we have just seen, and it will be considered in Appendix II.

4.5 Later Developments In the imperial period Soter was often used as what Parker calls a ‘praise epithet’, that is, an epithet which served primarily to glorify rather than to identify. The phenomenon appears to be closely related to the later shift in religious attitudes towards what is sometimes called ‘henotheism’, that is, the tendency to privilege and acclaim one god as superior in a particular moment of devotion, but without denying the cultic worship of other gods in the pantheon.¹⁴⁰ When used in this way Soter was often combined with other exaltatory epithets, such as Megistos (‘Greatest’) and Epekoos (‘Listener’).¹⁴¹ In Philae a strategos addressed Isis as μεγίστη θεὰ πανσώτιρα (sic). The prefix pan- emphasizes Isis’ unlimited power to save in every respect, and, together with μεγίστη, makes Isis the greatest saviour.¹⁴² A similar tendency to elevate the power of one’s saviour is demonstrated by two inscriptions from the town of Deva (modern Chester) in Roman Britain. One was addressed ‘to the mighty Saviour gods’ ([Θεοῖς] [σωτ]ῆρσιν ὑπερμενέσιν) who remain unnamed, and the other honoured Asclepius, Hygieia, and Panakeia as ‘supreme saviours of mankind among the immortals’ (Πανυπειρόχας ἀνθρώπων σωτῆρας ἐν ἀθανάτοισιν).¹⁴³ The most remarkable example of this type is a pillar in Rome inscribed ‘to Zeus Helios Great Sarapis Saviour Wealth-Giver Listener Benefactor Invincible Mithras, a thank-offering’. Several gods are here associated with each other and a total of nine or ten epithets are used.¹⁴⁴ In this as in some other cases, a god might acquire multiple epithets by

¹³⁸ SEG XXXIII 147.50; Paus. 6.20.2–5. See also Heros Sosipolis in Mesambria in SEG XXX 703. ¹³⁹ Sopolis: I.Ephesos 128.3, 1060.4, 1233.1 (second century ); discussed in Rogers (2012), 239, 305. Sozon: see Appendix II. ¹⁴⁰ On henotheism, see Versnel (1990); Versnel (2011), esp. ch. 3. ¹⁴¹ Parker (2017a), ch. 5. ¹⁴² I.Philae 134. Cf. J. A. Letronne ap. Bernand, who interprets pansotira in terms of healing power. See also Chaniotis (2010), 138. ¹⁴³ Samama (2003), nos. 523 (= IG XIV 2547), 524 (= SEG XXXVII 840). On the form πανυπειρόχας, referring here to Asclepius as to the two goddesses, see BE (1970), no. 667. Other examples are IGUR I 105 (Ἀσκληπιῷ θε[ῷ] Μεγίστῳ [Σ]ωτῆ[ρι] Εὐε̣ρ̣[γ]έτῃ), 145 (Θεᾷ Ἐπηκόῳ Ἀρτέμιδι Αὐλίδι Σωτείρῃ); Drew-Bear and Naour (1990), 1949–50 (Διὶ Μεγίστῳ Καρποδότῃ Σ[ω]τῆρι Ὀλυνπίῳ). ¹⁴⁴ RICIS 501/0126 (Διὶ Ἡλίῳ μεγάλῳ Σαράπιδι σωτῆρι πλουτοδοτῃ ἐπηκόῳ εὐεργέτῃ ἀνεικήτῳ Μίθρᾳ χαριστήριον). It is disputed whether the second last word is a dedicator Μίθρα or a divine recipient Μίθρᾳ (‘to Mithras’).

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association with other gods and sharing their titles,¹⁴⁵ and the amassing of epithets became in some way the mark of a great god. As these examples demonstrate, a common strategy in the imperial period was to use a string of epithets and the superlative to underline the power and uniqueness of a god. A further development is the application of Soter to monarchs as a formal title in cultic contexts. Applications to the gods aside, Soter became a royal title of a large number of Hellenistic kings and, later on, Roman emperors. It seems possible that its application to monarchs might, in turn, have encouraged the further spread of the epithet among an increasing number of gods. The relationship between divine and royal ‘saviours’, and the importance of the title in Hellenistic royal ideology, will be explored in the next chapter.

¹⁴⁵ e.g. I.Délos 2132 in n. 86 above.

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5 Between Men and Gods Hellenistic Monarchs as ‘Saviours’

Back in Chapter 1, we saw how the Spartan general Brasidas was honoured with a posthumous hero cult in Amphipolis in 422 , and was considered the city’s soter for liberating it from Athenian domination.¹ In the Classical period heroization and posthumous cults such as this constituted the dominant method for honouring exceptional human beings.² However, from the last few decades of the fourth century , there were important new developments in the treatment of human beings, especially royal figures, who now dominated the political scene of Greece. Not only could monarchs be worshipped in their lifetime with the same cultic practices and rituals as those traditionally reserved for the gods, many of them were also honoured under the same epithet Soter.³ How, then, did the cults of royal ‘saviours’ arise? Who was the earliest human being to receive both a lifetime cult and the cult title Soter? To what extent were ‘saviour’ kings comparable to the ‘saviour’ gods of ancient Greece? This chapter lies at the intersection between two related issues: how royal uses of Soter and soteria relate to the earlier history of the epithet and concept on the one hand, and how the phenomenon relates to larger concerns and developments in Hellenistic history on the other. Even though ruler worship has been extensively studied by modern historians,⁴ royal titulature is usually subsumed within this practice and given little attention.⁵ In what follows, we shall look at various case studies of Alexander the Great’s early successors in the four major Hellenistic kingdoms, who became ‘saviour’ through different processes and factors.⁶ We will

¹ Thuc. 5.11.1; discussed in Chapter 1. ² That is, even though there were isolated instances of mortals exceptionally accorded cult during their lifetime: see n. 19. ³ Other epithets used of both gods and kings are e.g. Epiphanes, Euergetes, and Kallinikos, but Soter was the most commonly used of these. ⁴ e.g. Habicht (1970); Price (1984b), esp. ch. 2; Walbank (1984); Chaniotis (2003) (with bibliography); Buraselis and Aneziri (2004); Iossif, Chankowski, Lorber (2011); Parker (2011), appendix 3; Petrovic (2015); Caneva (2020c). ⁵ Some exceptions are Van Nuffelen (2009); de Callataÿ and Lorber (2011); the important work of Muccioli (2013); Strootman (2020). ⁶ Royal Soteres in the minor dynasties are discussed in Muccioli (2013), 169ff.

Saviour Gods and Soteria in Ancient Greece. Theodora Suk Fong Jim, Oxford University Press. © Theodora Suk Fong Jim 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192894113.003.0006

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further situate ‘saviour’ kings in the wider context of their divine counterparts and other human beings similarly called. There were different kinds of royal nomenclature, and the complications thus arising need to be addressed from the outset. In some local communities, a king might be spontaneously acclaimed as ‘saviour’ and/or honoured with a local cult under this title in recognition of a royal benefaction. At the same time, rulers might officially assume certain epithets and impose their use more widely across their kingdom.⁷ In addition to locally conferred and officially adopted titles, sometimes a king might become conveniently referred to under a particular title or nickname in late historiography. As these different types of royal naming need not correspond to each other, the same king might appear under different titles in different sources and contexts. To take Demetrius I as an example, he was honoured as Soter in Athens in 307  for liberating the city from Cassander’s control, but became widely known in ancient and modern scholarship as Poliorcetes (‘Besieger of Cities’) for besieging Rhodes from 305 to 304 . Confining ourselves too narrowly to a single type of royal nomenclature may risk neglecting the varying forces with which the same title was used in different settings, and the possible processes of interactions and influences between them.⁸ Without privileging one type of royal titulature over another, therefore, this chapter will take into account the different agents using this epithet of the kings (individuals, groups, cities, or rulers themselves), its different geographical spread (a particular polis or a kingdom), and the different frequencies of its occurrence (ad hoc or regularly). Civic inscriptions of an official nature constitute our main source, and these will be supplemented by dedicatory inscriptions, literary sources, and legends on coins.

5.1 Early Precursors How far back can we trace the cultic worship of kings in their lifetime under the title of ‘saviour’? The practice is attested in an abundance of evidence in the Hellenistic period, but isolated instances before the death of Alexander the Great—though not without ambiguities and complications—may be considered as precursors of the Hellenistic phenomenon.

⁷ e.g. Seleucus I was honoured as Soter in Aegae in Aeolis, but was officially known as Nicator (‘Conqueror’). ⁸ Cf. Habicht (1970), who studied local cults and cult titles of early Hellenistic kings, but not dynastic cults and officially adopted titles, and Muccioli (2013), who considers official royal epithets only.

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5.1.1 Gelon of Syracuse Gelon, the tyrant who ruled Syracuse between 485 and 478 , is one of the earliest rulers attested as a ‘saviour’. The only available piece of evidence comes not from the direct testimony of contemporary epigraphic evidence, but from a literary passage several centuries later whose reliability has been questioned. Diodorus Siculus tells how, after his victory over the Carthaginians at Himera in 480 , Gelon appeared unarmed in Syracuse before an assembly of his troops and made a speech on his accomplishments for the city, whereupon the crowd ‘with one voice all hailed him as benefactor, saviour, and king’ (μιᾷ φωνῇ πάντας ἀποκαλεῖν εὐεργέτην καὶ σωτῆρα καὶ βασιλέα).⁹ Euergetes, soter, and basileus sound strangely Hellenistic—as we shall see shortly, these are titles common for monarchs in the period after Alexander the Great. This raises the question of whether Diodorus or his source might have applied anachronistically the titles familiar by his time.¹⁰ Most scholars consider it unlikely that Gelon was acclaimed as such, and even if he was, the word soter was here a momentary form of address in a public outburst of gratitude rather than a formal cult title. What is comparable to the Hellenistic ‘saviour’ kings, however, is Gelon’s exercise of absolute power and his relationship with his people: they were dependent on this powerful individual for military defence and other kinds of protection.¹¹

5.1.2 Dion of Syracuse More than a century later, another prominent figure in Syracuse was said to have been hailed as Soter, this time for liberating the city from tyranny. Since the late fifth century  Syracuse had been under the tyranny of Dionysius I and then his son Dionysius II. In 357/6 , Dion entered Syracuse and declared his intention to liberate the city and all the Sicilians, to restore their autonomy, and to dissolve the whole tyranny that had lasted for almost half a century.¹² The event is recorded in the overlapping and at times potentially confusing accounts of Diodorus and Plutarch, written several hundred years after the time of Dion. Plutarch describes how, when Dion arrived at the city, the Syracusans spontaneously set out tables and sacrificial offerings and mixing-bowls in the streets, pelted him with flowers,

⁹ Diod. Sic. 11.26.6, with discussion in Currie (2005), 170–2. ¹⁰ See e.g. Pearson (1987), 139; Rutter (1993), 176–8; Sacks (1994), 214–15; Hornblower (2011), 47–8. ¹¹ The parallels between Sicilian tyrants and Hellenistic kings have often been noted; see e.g. recently de L’isle (2021), who argues that the Sicilian tyrants and the Diadochoi were both part of an existing tradition of Greek autocracy. ¹² Declaration and entry: Plut. Dion 29.1; Diod. Sic. 16.10.3.

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and supplicated him like a god with prayers (προστρεπομένων ὥσπερ θεὸν κατευχαῖς). Plutarch seems to imply that Dion was treated on a par with the gods, but according to Diodorus, sacrifices and incense were offered to the gods in every house; as for Dion, everyone hastened to gaze upon him and acknowledged his arete in terms greater than for a mortal.¹³ His second arrival at the city, when it was besieged by the tyrant, was again met with much rejoicing: when Dion was seen leading his army through the city against the besiegers, so Plutarch tells us, the Syracusans called him their ‘saviour and god’ (σωτῆρα καὶ θεὸν ἀποκαλούντων). But according to Diodorus, Dion was re-elected in the assembly as the supreme commander and granted heroic honours (τιμαὶ ἡρωικαί) after he had successfully driven Dionysius from the city. In the assembly ‘the Syracusans with universal praises and with elaborate testimonies of approval honoured their benefactor as the one and only saviour of their native land’ (οἱ δὲ Συρακόσιοι πανδήμοις ἐπαίνοις καὶ ἀποδοχαῖς μεγάλαις ἐτίμων τὸν εὐεργέτην ὡς μόνον σωτῆρα γεγονότα τῆς πατρίδος).¹⁴ The case of Dion deserves our attention as he received religious treatment previously unknown for living human beings informally called soter.¹⁵ However, the complementary but varying accounts of Plutarch and Diodorus have perplexed historians as to the precise nature of his honours.¹⁶ Plutarch seems to imply divine treatment by the populace (but not a permanently institutionalized cult) even before he had expelled the tyrant, whereas Diodorus speaks explicitly of heroic honours (τιμαὶ ἡρωικαί) decreed by the Syracusan assembly only after the deed was accomplished. Regardless of how we describe these treatments received, remarkably, during his lifetime, what both authors emphasize is the unusually high level of honour conferred on a man in recognition of his exceptional arete. The Syracusans honoured Dion at a level higher than that for a mortal ‘because of the magnitude and unexpected nature of the change (in their fortune)’.¹⁷ To call him ‘the only saviour of the fatherland’ was a rhetorical hyperbole emphasizing the magnitude of their gratitude; Dion was surely not the only attested ‘saviour’ in Syracusan history, but the best or greatest at that moment.¹⁸

¹³ Popular reception: Plut. Dion 28.3–29.1; Diod. Sic. 16.11.1–2. Currie (2005), 186, thinks that the spontaneous sacrifices in Plut. Dion 29.1 were ‘evidently sacrifices to Dion, not just on his behalf’ (his italics). Cf. Diodorus, who describes the Syracusans as ‘giving thanks to the gods’ (εὐχαριστούντων τοῖς θεοῖς). ¹⁴ Plut. Dion 46.1; Diod. Sic. 16.20.5–6 (tr. Loeb). ¹⁵ On human beings informally called Soter without cultic worship, see Chapter 1. ¹⁶ e.g. Badian (1981), 42–3; Fredricksmeyer (1981), 152–3; Sanders (1991), 285–6. Habicht (1970), 10, noted acutely that ‘In fact, what to call a cult that derived its sacred liturgy from hero cult but was dedicated to a living man was more important theoretically than practically’ (tr. Dillon). ¹⁷ Diod. Sic. 16.11.2 (tr. Loeb). ¹⁸ Like the acclamation heis theos, monos here means ‘best’ rather than ‘the only one’. See Versnel (2011), 296–8, 300–3 (quotation at 297): Greek monos has ‘a contrastive and elative force pertaining to quality, not an ontologically exclusive or all-embracing one’.

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Differently from Gelon, then, Dion of Syracuse was one of the few individuals in the Classical period who received cultic honours while alive, whether we term this treatment ‘heroic’ or ‘divine’. Among these figures exceptionally being paid lifetime cult, he was also the first to be recognized as soter, even if momentarily.¹⁹ Dion is therefore sometimes seen by historians as anticipating the Hellenistic practice of honouring living kings with cultic worship and the title of Soter.²⁰ There is, however, a major difference in how the word soter was used of Dion and the Hellenistic kings: in both Plutarch’s and Diodorus’ passages soter was a temporary salutation for Dion in public reactions similar to that for Gelon in 480 ; it fell short of the formal cult title which we find later for many Hellenistic kings.

5.1.3 Philip II of Macedon The first living king to receive Soter as a cult title appears to have been Philip II of Macedon. A recently published text from Thasos is plausibly restored to read [Β]ασιλέως Φιλί[ππου] in the first line and σωτῆρος in smaller letters in the second.²¹ As the inscription is dated to the fourth century  on the basis of letter forms, the king in question must be Philip II of Macedon rather than any other later king of the same name. The divinity of Philip II is a subject of long-standing debate in the history of ruler worship: did this phenomenon begin with Philip II, so that henceforth the traditional divide, once strictly held between men and gods, became breached and blurry? At the heart of this controversy have been isolated pieces of epigraphic and literary evidence which seem to suggest that Philip was possibly paid divine cult by various communities, but unfortunately the sources are too slight, contentious, and at times of disputed reliability for certainty.²² Precisely because the state of the evidence does not permit any definitive conclusion, historians could interpret the same sources either way depending on their larger argument. Amid this ongoing debate, the new block of marble from Thasos is an exciting find. It apparently forms part of an altar, as suggested by its rectangular shape and its use of the genitive case in the inscription. If so, it is contemporary evidence for a cult of Philip II during his lifetime, and also shows that Philip was the first king to be called Soter in a cultic context. What we cannot ¹⁹ Other early human beings paid lifetime worship, but not called Soter, are e.g. Lysander of Sparta (Plut. Lys. 18.2–4 = Duris, FGrH 76 F 71) and Hagnon at Amphipolis (Thuc. 5.11.1). On early cults of living human beings, see Habicht (1970), 3–10; Currie (2005), ch. 9. ²⁰ See modern discussions in nn. 13 and 16. ²¹ Hamon (2015–16) = BE (2017), no. 424, SEG LXV 736. ²² RO 83.ii.4–5 (Eresos); SEG XXXVIII 658 (Philippi); IGBulg V 5412 (Philippopolis); Aristid. Or. 38.480 p. 715 Dindorf = 9.14 Behr (Amphipolis); Clem. Al. Protr. 4.54.5 (Cynosarges). For cult honours possibly granted at Philip II’s own instigation, see Paus. 5.20.9–10 (the ‘Philippeum’ at Olympia); Diod. Sic. 16.92.5, 16.95.1 (Philip’s eikon in the procession in Aegae).

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ascertain, nevertheless, is the precise nature of the cult in question: whether the altar was set up at private or public initiative and in what context, what kind of sacrifice and other cultic treatments (if any) were involved,²³ and how regularly Philip was called Soter. This altar aside, there are, confusingly, several other dedicatory inscriptions similarly mentioning a ‘King Philip’, with or without the title Soter, from areas under Macedonian influence;²⁴ yet these inscriptions appear to be of a later date and to refer, in my view, to Philip V of Macedon instead of Philip II as sometimes thought.²⁵ In the absence of further contextual information, the new text cannot be taken securely as attesting to divine honours for Philip II; nor does it resolve the controversy over his deification. It nevertheless provides the earliest attestation of Soter as a cult title for the king most probably in his lifetime. Depending on our perspective, it is possible to see Philip as marking a key moment of transition in how Soter was used of living human beings, or as one in a long line of human beings called ‘saviours’ in one way or another.

5.1.4 After Alexander On careful scrutiny, therefore, it emerges that none of the above figures firmly attests to a lifetime divine cult of a human being as Soter. The word was used of Gelon and Dion as a temporary form of address during a public outburst of gratitude, and did not translate into a formal or permanent cult title. Philip II was

²³ On the possibility of kings receiving heroic honours before the Hellenistic period, see Currie (2005), 244–6, with bibliography. Ekroth (2002), passim, argues at length that sacrificial rituals for heroes are more similar to those for the gods than traditionally thought, and that the type of altar (eschara or bomos) is not a sufficient indicator for the nature of the cult (heroic or divine). ²⁴ These are Veligianni (1991) = SEG XLI 599 (Maroneia, 187/186–183 ?); SEG L 606 (Nikiti, late third or early second century ); Recherches Thasos II, 230, no. 405 (another text from Thasos, before 196 ?); RICIS 113/0902 (Amphipolis, late third or early second century ); SEG XLVII 917 (Berga, late third or early second century ). Discussed in Jim (2017a), with further bibliography. ²⁵ I have argued in Jim (2017a) that these inscriptions, apart from the newly published one from Thasos, probably refer to Philip V of Macedon on the basis of (1) the dating of most of these stones to the late third or early second century  on palaeographical grounds; (2) their reference to βασιλεὺς Φιλίππος in Hellenistic times, when one would expect further qualifications (such as the use of patronymic) if Philip II was referred to at the time of another, reigning king of the same name; and (3) the possible historical contexts in which Philip V might have been called Soter in some of these communities, e.g. when he entered Thasos in 202  (Polyb. 15.24.1–3, cf. Demetrius I’s entry to Athens in 307  in Plut. Dem. 9.1) and when he took over Maroneia in 200  (Livy 31.16.4). Unfortunately, however, the article’s arguments have been misrepresented by Fröhlich in BE (2018), no. 95, first by omitting its central arguments, and then by distorting and simplifying those he partially cites: the association between Philip V and Zeus is not, I argued, a determining factor, since Philip II was also associated with the god, but BE has misunderstood. As for the possibility that Philip V might have been hailed as Soter when entering Thasos in 202 , BE may be rash to dismiss it as ‘peu vraisemblable’. Paradoxical as it may seem, as will be demonstrated in this chapter, it is indeed often the case that conquerors might be presented as ‘saviours’ in the kings’ representation of themselves and/or in the cities’ version of events. By contrast to BE’s assertion that these (mostly later) texts ‘sans aucun doute possible’ belong to Philip II, the possibility that some of these inscriptions refer to Philip V should at least be entertained.

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the earliest living king who received this title in a cultic context, but tantalizingly it remains unclear what kind of cultic honours he was given. After Philip II, Alexander the Great is never attested under this epithet; nor was it in fact common in the time of Philip II and Alexander the Great for kings to bear epithets. It is only after Alexander, as his so-called successors contended for power and support from local communities, that living kings were accorded isotheoi timai and the epithet Soter became commonplace and securely attested. The remarkable growth of ruler cults from the late fourth century  relates to the changing political landscape after the death of Alexander the Great. To the Greeks who had never experienced monarchic rule in the Archaic and Classical periods, Alexander’s successors constituted a new kind of power which was uncomfortably unfamiliar to them and strangely at odds with the constitutional structure of the independent Greek poleis. Under such circumstances, Price eloquently argued, ruler worship arose in Greek cities as a means of representing to themselves their new masters in a traditional guise, and therefore a way of coming to terms with their extraordinary power.²⁶ His important insights can be pushed further if we consider also these cults’ potential for the kings. Royal benefactions (on which these cults were based), specifically royal ‘saving’, provided these kings with a potentially powerful means of legitimizing, humanizing, and integrating their external power. It could appeal to the traditional Greek values of soteria and eleutheria on the one hand, and disguise the harsh realities of conquest and subjugation on the other. In what follows, we shall explore the different contexts and varying senses in which these kings could claim to be ‘saviours’ of the cities. The language of ‘saving’, as we shall see, played an important part in the ideology of kingship and in the interaction between rulers and their subjects.

5.2 The Antigonids 5.2.1 Antigonus I and Demetrius I at Athens Antigonus I and Demetrius I were the earliest of Alexander’s successors²⁷ who were honoured by a Greek city with a lifetime cult and the title of Soter.²⁸ Thanks to an abundance of Attic inscriptions, in combination with Plutarch’s Life of Demetrius and Diodorus Siculus’ history, we are in an unusual position of being

²⁶ Price (1984b), esp. ch. 4 (25–7 on the new political circumstances). ²⁷ The Antigonids known to have been called Soter are: Antigonus I, Demetrius I, Antigonus II, Antigonus III, and Philip V. ²⁸ Before receiving cult at Athens, Antigonus I was honoured by Scepsis (OGIS 6, 311 ) for his contribution towards the eleutheria and autonomia of the Greeks, but was not called Soter.

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able to trace their cult from its original establishment to its subsequent developments. Not only is this the most well-documented case of Hellenistic kings called Soter, it also set off new trends which shaped later developments of ruler cults.²⁹ In 314 , during the wars of the Diadochoi, Antigonus I famously proclaimed at Tyre that ‘all the Greeks were to be free, without garrisons, and autonomous’.³⁰ As part of this propaganda of freedom and autonomy for the Greeks, in 307/6 he sent his son to liberate Athens, which had been ruled by Demetrius of Phalerum (appointed by Cassander) since 317. On sailing into the harbours, Demetrius I announced his intention to set Athens free, to expel the garrison, and to restore the laws and ancestral constitutions to the Athenians. ‘Most of the people at once threw their shields down in front of them, and with clapping of hands and loud cries urged Demetrius to land, hailing him as their saviour and benefactor (εὐεργέτην καὶ σωτῆρα προσαγορεύοντες)’.³¹ Demetrius was greeted as euergetes and soter on the spot, and Soter soon became the official title bestowed upon the father and son. Plutarch tells us that the Athenians were the first of all people to proclaim Antigonus and Demetrius as king, and were the only ones to give them the title of Saviour Gods (μόνοι δὲ σωτῆρας ἀνέγραψαν θεούς). The verb ἀναγράφειν (‘to record’, ‘to register’) may suggest that the title was formally voted for and permanently inscribed in civic documents by the Athenians.³² By driving out the other Demetrius and the garrison, liberating the Athenians from Cassander’s tenyear rule, and restoring their democratic and ancestral institutions, Antigonus and Demetrius were the Athenians’ ‘Saviours’ in the sense of being their liberators from external domination and restorers of democracy. In view of the kings’ benefactions to the city and their sudden change of fortune, the Athenians bestowed on Antigonus and Demetrius a series of extravagant honours on a scale never seen before for mortals in Greek history.³³ The two ‘Saviours’ were henceforth to be honoured with an eponymous priest, who, according to Plutarch, was to replace the archon in the dating formulae used in public and private documents.³⁴ Other honours were to include annual games with a sacrifice and a procession, an altar ‘of the Saviours’ (location unclear),³⁵ and

²⁹ On the cult of Antigonus I and Demetrius I at Athens, see e.g. Scott (1928a); Scott (1928b); Habicht (1970), 44–55; Rosivach (1987); Parker (1996), 258–62; Habicht (1997), ch. 3; Mikalson (1998), esp. 75–104; Thonemann (2005); Kuhn (2006); Erskine (2014). ³⁰ Diod. Sic. 19.61.1–4. On Antigonus’ propaganda of freedom for the Greeks, see Billows (1990), esp. 197–205. ³¹ Plut. Dem. 8.5–9.1 (tr. Loeb); see also Polyaenus 4.7.6. ³² Plut. Dem. 10.3. However, in contemporary epigraphic evidence the word theoi is not actually used of Antigonus and Demetrius. ³³ The honours voted are summarized, but not in chronological order, in Plut. Dem. 10.3–12.3 and Diod. Sic. 20.46.1–2. ³⁴ Yet epigraphic evidence does not demonstrate such a change in the prescripts of Athenian decrees: see Dreyer (1998). ³⁵ The altar ‘of the Saviours’ (Diod. Sic. 20.46.2) is probably different from the altar ‘of Demetrius Kataibates’ (‘Descendent’) erected at the spot he first alighted (Plut. Dem. 10.4). There was perhaps

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a golden statue pair of the father and son in a chariot, prominently placed beside the statues of the Tyrannicides in the agora. Its location beside this important monument must have been carefully chosen to symbolize the kings’ role in opposing Cassander’s tyranny and defending the democracy.³⁶ So great were Antigonus’ and Demetrius’ contributions to Athens that their images were to be woven on the peplos presented to Athena at the Panathenaea. There were to be two new tribes called Antigonis and Demetrias; as tribal eponyms the kings’ portrait statues were added to existing representations of the ten eponymous tribal heroes in the Athenian agora and in the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi.³⁷ By incorporating the kings in Athenian monuments in a Panhellenic sanctuary, the Athenians were publicizing the Antigonids’ benefactions and their gratitude before all the Greeks. Subsequently the kings’ title Soter, along with further divine honours, are attested in Athenian inscriptions set up collectively by the polis and by constituent groups on their own initiative. In 304/3 , the Athenians passed a decree when they received news of Demetrius’ successful campaigns in the Peloponnese.³⁸ It seems that an Athenian contingent had participated in the king’s liberation campaigns but had not yet returned, and ‘in order that the remaining affairs might be accomplished for the benefit of the Athenian people and all the Greeks, (and that) those on campaign might be saved from war (σωιζόμεν[οι ἐκ πολέμου]) and return to the polis after overcoming the enemies’, the Athenians resolved to perform an ox sacrifice ‘to Athena Nike, Agathe Tyche, and the Saviours on behalf of the soteria of those on campaign’ (ὑπὲρ τῆς σωτηρίας τῶν στ[ρατευομένων τῆι τε] Ἀθηνᾶι τῆι Νίκηι καὶ τῆι Ἀ[γαθεῖ Τύχει καὶ το]ῖς Σωτῆρσιν). The unnamed ‘Saviours’ refer without doubt to Antigonus and Demetrius. They were to be the recipients also of a separate, commemorative sacrifice instituted for the future: henceforth there was to be an annual sacrifice to the Saviours and to Agathe Tyche as a memorial (ὑπόμνημα) of the contests, at public expense of 200 drachmai.³⁹ As we saw in Chapter 2, rituals commemorating a community’s deliverance, whether a fully fledged festival or simpler sacrificial rites, were a commonplace in the Hellenistic period. What is startling and unconventional here, however, is the more than one altar: Plut. Dem. 12.3 speaks of the βωμοί of Antigonus and Demetrius around which hemlock grew. Habicht (1970), 49–50, argued that the altar of Demetrius Kataibates dates to 304 instead of 307. ³⁶ Golden statues: Diod. Sic. 20.46.2. This is one of the rare instances in Athenian history when the Athenians allowed honorific statues to be set up next to the Tyrannicides: see Ma (2013), 118–19. ³⁷ Archaeological evidence shows that the pedestal bearing the statues of the eponymous heroes in the agora was extended on both ends to accommodate those of Antigonus and Demetrius: see Shear (1970), esp. 171–5, 197–200. There were probably two sets of such monuments in the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi, one at its entrance, and possibly another on the large base in front of the Athenian treasury: Paus. 10.10.1–2, with commentary in Frazer (1913); Vatin (1991), 165–83, 187–8; Amandry (1998); Jacquemin (1999), 186–7, 228–9, 315, nos. 77–8. ³⁸ Peloponnesian campaigns: Plut. Dem. 25 and Diod. Sic. 20.102–3. ³⁹ SEG XXX 69, with commentary in Woodhead (1981) and Agora XVI 114.

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practice of sacrificing to the kings in both the immediate ox sacrifice and the annual sacrifices in future. It is much more common, in conformity with religious conventions, to pray and sacrifice to the gods hyper (‘on behalf of ’, ‘for’) a king, that is, to transfer the benefits associated with the sacrifice to the king named; yet here, rather remarkably, the kings were made the recipients of sacrifices themselves and put on a par with the gods.⁴⁰ Both kinds of sacrifices—to and for the kings—are documented for Demetrius in another contemporary decree, passed by the ‘Athenian select volunteers’, most probably those who served in his Peloponnesian campaigns. Separately from the official statue group of the father and son near the Tyrannicides, these Athenians decided to erect an equestrian statue of Demetrius next to that of Demokratia in the agora, a placement which emphasized the king’s role as the protector and restorer of Athenian democracy. The decree goes on to stipulate that ‘[those re]sponsible for the sacrifices [performed on behalf of Antigonus and Demet]rius should also sacrifice to Demetrius Soter’. Remarkably, apart from being the beneficiary of prayers and sacrifices made on his behalf, Demetrius was also to receive sacrifice in his own right as if he were a god.⁴¹ In more or less the same period of time, a group of at least eleven Athenian citizens—could these be the ‘select volunteers’ also?—jointly set up a monument in honour of the Soteres at their own expense, proudly stating that their dedication was intended as a great example ([παρ]άδειγμα μέγιστον) for others to follow.⁴² Whether or not the same group of Athenians was involved, these two inscriptions show that the practice of calling the kings Soter and honouring them with isotheoi timai must have quickly caught on among members of the Athenian public; its use was by no means restricted to decrees collectively enacted by the council and assembly. All three inscriptions come from the years shortly after Demetrius’ first arrival at Athens in 307/6. They cluster around 304, when he expelled Cassander a second time in response to an Athenian appeal for help. The lavish honours publicly voted for Demetrius and his father, the commitment to spend large sums on sacrifices to the two ‘Saviours’ in perpetuity, the citizens’ initiative to dedicate at their own expense, and their exhortation to other Greeks to bestow similar honours on the kings all demonstrate the spontaneous enthusiasm, gratitude, and goodwill of the Athenians, who were evidently in friendly relations with the Antigonids at the end of the fourth century. The kings’ widespread popularity is

⁴⁰ Habicht (1970), 138–9 and Price (1984b), 223 n. 73, collected examples of direct sacrifice to living Hellenistic kings, with or without the title Soter, from the late fourth to the first century . On the difference between sacrifices to and sacrifices for monarchs, see Price (1984b), 210–20; Habicht (1997), 166–7; Mikalson (1998), 160–1. ⁴¹ SEG XXV 149 (c.303/2 ), lines 16–17: τοὺς δὲ κα]θισταμένους εἰς τὰς θυσίας τὰς [συντελουμένας ὑπὲρ Ἀντιγόνου καὶ Δημητ]ρίου καὶ Δημητρίωι Σωτῆρι θύειν. Cf. Moretti, ISE, no. 7, which has [συντελουμένας ὑπὲρ βασιλέως Δημητ]ρίου. ⁴² IG II/III² 3424 (end of 4th century?) = CEG 777. This is strikingly similar in spirit to the select volunteers’ call upon other Greek cities to accord Demetrius similar honours in SEG XXV 149, lines 14–15, 19–21.

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also reflected in the practice of drinking a toast to them, mentioned in Alexis and Antiphanes; the ritual must have been in fashion when the poets were writing.⁴³ If the Athenians were on good terms with their ‘Saviours’ initially, relations quickly deteriorated after 304. After his second entry into Athens, during his residence in the Parthenon in the winters of 304/3 and 303/2, Demetrius began to behave increasingly inappropriately and strained his relations with the Athenians. Following the Antigonids’ setback in the battle of Ipsus in 301, the Athenians voted never again to receive a king within their city walls,⁴⁴ making it clear that the city’s ‘Saviour’ was no longer welcome. Plutarch mentions an Athenian decree (date unclear) that anyone mentioning peace and reconciliation with Demetrius would be put to death.⁴⁵ Despite their attempts to resist the king’s return, the Athenians were brought to the brink of starvation by Demetrius’ siege in 295 and had no choice but to open their city gate. During the years of their fluctuating relations with the king, and especially when Demetrius changed from being initially a liberator to an aggressor or conqueror in 295, how did the Athenians react to the honours they formerly voted for the ‘Saviours’? Whether or not there were proposals to demolish their cults and honours, as there was in Rhodes when Demetrius besieged the Rhodians in 304,⁴⁶ the title and cult of the Antigonid Soteres were preserved amid these vicissitudes. Their statues were still standing in the agora after the siege.⁴⁷ Demetrius could probably justify his title Soter by presenting the siege as a ‘liberation’ of Athens from Lachares, who had made himself tyrant of Athens at Cassander’s urging in 296, and by sending a generous gift of 100,000 bushels of grain to relieve the Athenians of the starvation which ironically he had inflicted.⁴⁸ Probably to thank Demetrius for his unexpectedly lenient treatment and to acknowledge his power, a new festival, the Demetrieia, was instituted and added to the City Dionysia.⁴⁹ The festival and other honours were preserved until at least ⁴³ Alexis fr. 116 K.-A. = Ath. 6.254a; Antiphanes fr. 81 = Ath. 10.423c, with discussion in Scott (1928b), 233–6. ⁴⁴ Plut. Dem. 30.3. ⁴⁵ Plut. Dem. 34.1. ⁴⁶ Cf. Diod. Sic. 20.93.6–7, for a proposal among the Rhodians to pull down the statues of Antigonus and Demetrius when besieged by Demetrius in 304, on the grounds that it would be absurd to honour equally their besiegers and their benefactors (δεινὸν εἶναι λέγοντες ἐν ἴσῳ τιμᾶσθαι τοὺς πολιορκοῦντας τοῖς εὐεργέταις). However, the proposal was not carried out, and the proposers were punished. The implication of a Rhodian cult of the Antigonids is discussed in Habicht (1970), 73–4. ⁴⁷ We learn this from a decree in 295/4 in honour of the king’s friend Herodoros, who was granted a statue in the Athenian agora ‘except next to those of Harmodius and Aristogeiton and the Saviours’ (IG II/III³ 1, 853, lines 41–2: [πλὴν παρ᾽ Ἁρμό]διον καὶ Ἀριστογείτο[να καὶ τοὺς Σωτ]ῆρας); commentary in Osborne (1981–3), vol. II, D 68. ⁴⁸ Lachares: Plut. Dem. 34.4; PA 9005; Ferguson (1929). Gift of grain: Plut. Dem. 34.4. ⁴⁹ The Demetrieia was added to the Dionysia (which was not ‘renamed’, contra Plut. Dem. 12.2), so that the City Dionysia and the Demetrieia constituted one single festival, as in IG II/III³ 1, 857.42 (293/2 ). The name of the festival attested epigraphically is Demetrieia, not Demetria (cf. Plut. Dem. 12.2). On the Demetrieia, see also Thonemann (2005), esp. 78–80, for its date and interpretation. Buraselis (2012) examines the phenomenon of combining the festival of a god with honours for a ruler, and terms them ‘appended festivals’.

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287 when Athens revolted, and until then more honours continued to be conferred, not least the much-cited Ithyphallic hymn in 291 or 290.⁵⁰ When describing Demetrius’ changing relations with the Athenians, Plutarch reflects on how extravagant honours constitute the ‘weakest proof ’ (φαυλότατον τεκμήριον) of a people’s goodwill (εὔνοια) towards those in power, since the same honours might be conferred out of dread unwillingly, or out of affection, and became worthless if prompted by fear (φόβος).⁵¹ If the honours for Demetrius between 307/6 and 304/3 were granted in gratitude and spontaneous support for the king, what was preserved and newly granted in the following decade reflects not so much the goodwill of the Athenians as their fear of and dependence on the king for survival. In 287  the Athenians revolted from Demetrius and tried to free themselves from Macedonian domination with the help of Ptolemy I.⁵² The Athenians dedicated to Zeus Eleutherios in the agora the inscribed shield of the citizen who displayed the greatest valour and died in the struggle.⁵³ This was a marked political and religious statement: Zeus Eleutherios was affirmed as the ultimate protector of Athens’ political freedom, and as superior to the city’s one-time ‘Saviour’ Demetrius. What, then, happened to the honours formerly heaped on the Antigonids? According to Plutarch, the traditional practice of using the archon’s name (rather than the Antigonid Soteres’ priest) in dating formulae was restored,⁵⁴ but as mentioned before it is unclear if their priest had ever become eponymous.⁵⁵ The Demetrieia, celebrated along with the City Dionysia since c.294, disappears from epigraphic evidence definitely from 285/4,⁵⁶ and may have been celebrated for the last time in 287 before Athens revolted. Similarly to the Demetrieia, other cultic practices such as the annual games, commemorative sacrifices, and processions in honour of the Antigonid Soteres most probably ceased to be celebrated.⁵⁷ We do not know whether the altar ‘of the Saviours’ and their statues near the Tyrannicides were demolished or, more probably, simply ignored.⁵⁸ The other monument in the agora, the equestrian statue of Demetrius ⁵⁰ Ithyphallic hymn: Demochares, FGrH 75 F 2; Duris, FGrH 76 F 13 = Ath. 6.253b–f; Marcovich (1988), 8–19; Chaniotis (2011b). ⁵¹ Plut. Dem. 30.4–5. The distinction between honours conferred through goodwill and through fear is similarly made in Paus. 10.10.2, according to which the Athenians set up the statue of Ptolemy II in Delphi out of goodwill (εὔνοια), but those of Antigonus I and Demetrius I out of the dread (δέος) they inspired. ⁵² Two Ptolemaic officials are honoured for their contribution to Athens’ soteria during the revolt: IG II/III³ 1, 863 (Zenon), 911 (Callias of Sphettos). ⁵³ Paus. 1.26.2. Cf. Paus. 10.21.5–6: an Athenian who died fighting the Gauls in 279 had his shield dedicated by his family to Zeus Eleutherios. ⁵⁴ Plut. Dem. 46.1, with 10.3. ⁵⁵ See n. 34. ⁵⁶ The Great Dionysia is mentioned alone, without the Demetrieia, in IG II/III³ 1, 870.36–8, 871.41–3. ⁵⁷ Diod. Sic. 20.46.2; SEG XXX 69. ⁵⁸ Cf. the Rhodians’ treatment of the Antigonids in Diod. Sic. 20.93.6–7: despite proposals to pull down the statues of Antigonus I and Demetrius I when the island was besieged in 305–4, the Rhodians retained such memorials of their friendship as a means of gaining the king’s mercy should the island be captured.

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set up by the ‘Athenian select volunteers’ near the statue of Demokratia, appears to have survived until 200 . Its bronze fragments were discovered by archaeologists in the northern part of the agora in a well in a layer dating to c.200 , which suggests that the statue was probably tossed into the well during the antiMacedonian climate of 200.⁵⁹ Outraged by Philip V’s repeated assaults on Attica at the time, the Athenians resolved to remove and destroy all statues, accompanying inscriptions, celebrations, and priesthoods in honour of Philip V and his ancestors.⁶⁰ Such cancellations apparently go as far back as Antigonus I and Demetrius I. It is at this time that the tribes Antigonis and Demetrias were disbanded and the kings’ statues alongside the eponymous heroes probably removed.⁶¹ After a period of independence from 287 to 262 , Athens again fell under Macedonian domination after its defeat in the Chremonidean War. During this second period of Macedonian control (262–229 ) we find a curious reference to sacrifices to Soteres in two Athenian decrees, passed in the reigns of Antigonus II and Demetrius II respectively.⁶² Both inscriptions honour the prytaneis, inter alia, for sacrificing to Apollo Prostaterios (‘Standing before’), Artemis Boulaia (‘of the Council’), and other ancestral gods, and for sacrificing also to the Saviours on the appropriate days well and with love of honour. These sacrifices, successfully conducted ‘for the health and safety of the council and the people’ (ἐφ᾽ ὑγιείαι καὶ σωτηρ[ίαι τῆ]ς βουλῆς καὶ τοῦ δήμου) and of members of the Macedonian royal family,⁶³ were reported to the boule, which now praised the prytaneis for their proper performance. This is the institution we saw in Chapter 2: prayers by magistrates for the health and soteria of various groups of Athenians are attested in Attic inscriptions from at least the fourth century . What is new in this second period of Macedonian control is that, as an expression of the Athenians’ loyalty to the king, members of the Macedonian royal house were regularly included alongside (but not preceding) the boule and the demos as beneficiaries

⁵⁹ On the archaeological find, see Shear (1973), 165–8; Houser (1982) = SEG XXXII 151; Camp (1986), 162–5; Brogan (2003), 198ff. = SEG LIII 151. ⁶⁰ Livy 31.44.2–9. See also Livy 31.24.18, 31.26.9–13 for Philip’s brutal attacks on temples and tombs. On the Athenian damnatio memoriae against the Macedonians, see Flower (2006), 34–41; Byrne (2010); Kousser (2017), 202–12. ⁶¹ The abolition of the two tribes is not mentioned in literary sources but is based on IG II/III² 2362 (200 ), in which (according to the orthodox view) eleven tribes remained, that is, after the creation of the tribe Ptolemais but before that of Attalis. See McDonald and Walbank (1937), esp. 190–2; Walbank (1940), 124–5; Pritchett (1954), esp. 162–4; Shear (1970), esp. 199–200; cf. Traill (1986), ch. 3. ⁶² These are IG II/III³ 1, 1036 (c.250–240 ) and 1029 (234/3 ). The former and earlier decree is very fragmentary, and is restored on the basis of the latter. ⁶³ The references to the Macedonian royal house were erased in the anti-Macedonian climate of 200 , but have been restored to read ‘of King Demetrius and Queen Phthia and their descendants’ in IG II/III³ 1, 1029.16–17, and ‘of King Antigonus and Queen Phila and their descendants’ in IG II/III³ 1, 1036.8–9.

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of the city’s sacrifices and prayers.⁶⁴ Who, then, were the unnamed Soteres receiving sacrifices? That the two honorific decrees were passed in the context of Macedonian control, and that the Macedonian royal family’s well-being was prayed for, make it very likely that Antigonus I and Demetrius I were the anonymous Soteres in question.⁶⁵ It is interesting to note how the Soteres were placed after, and distinguished from, the gods and goddesses as recipients of sacrifice; the sequence seems to suggest nuances of gradation in the hierarchy of the divine and mortal recipients. The cult of the Antigonid Soteres might have been discontinued when Athens revolted in 287 but appears to be now renewed. What would have provided enough impetus to reactivate sacrifices to the Antigonid Soteres posthumously? To what extent was renewed Macedonian subjugation in itself a sufficient reason, and might specific benefactions of the present king have triggered their revival? Regardless of their precise context, what is significant is that, unlike the Macedonian royal family members whose names were originally included in Attic prayer formulae between 262 and 230 but were later excised in 200 as part of the damnatio memoriae against the Macedonians,⁶⁶ the word Σωτῆρσιν remained intact on stone. The ambiguous anonymity of the Soteres allowed them to stay: they could be interpreted as Antigonus I and Demetrius I when the Athenians were expressing their loyalty to the Macedonians, and as Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira at other times when the relationship with the kings turned sour. Even under the reigns of Antigonus II and Demetrius II to which the present inscriptions belong, any Athenian reading the stone could interpret the ‘Saviours’ either way. Their ambiguous identity provided the Athenians a way of coping with their Macedonian overlords: their perception could change between different identifications (as gods or as kings) depending on the context, and no unanimity was required. The cult of Antigonus I and Demetrius I as Soteres, then, lasted briefly in Athens from 307 to 287, with possible revivals in the later third century. This case study has demonstrated in detail one possible context for the establishment of ruler cults and their potential for change and modification. Even if a king was officially given Soter as a permanent cult title by the city, his status as the deified ⁶⁴ e.g. IG II/III³ 1, 995.9–11, 1002.21–5, 1026.7–10. See also other documents listed in Dow (1937), 48–50; Habicht (1982), 148 n. 137. Scholars such as Price (1984b), 223–5, and Mikalson (1998), 160–1, have noted how the Athenians reversed their initial practice of sacrificing to the Macedonians kings in 307  to sacrifices for the kings, as if recognizing the excessiveness of their former action and/or reflecting the changed relations with their Macedonian overlords. However, in the present inscription, both sacrifices to and for the kings are attested. ⁶⁵ Antigonus I and Demetrius I are favoured by Ferguson (1911), 126 n. 1; Habicht (1997), 165; Paschidis (2008), 522, nos. 6, 8; Osborne and Byrne in IG II/III³ 1, 1029. Contra Rosivach (1987), 274 and Mikalson (199), 112 n. 20, who identify them as Zeus and Athena, and accordingly think that there is no evidence of an Athenian cult of the Antigonid ‘Saviours’ after 287 . ⁶⁶ According to Livy 31.44.2–9, the Athenians resolved not only to remove and destroy all statues and inscriptions of Philip V and his ancestors, but also to abolish all cultic honours for them, and to curse them whenever the priests offered prayers on behalf of the demos and the Athenian allies.

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‘saviour’ was far from stable or fixed, and he might move up and down a sliding scale according to changing circumstances and his relations with the community.⁶⁷ This should cause no surprise if we consider that the cult title and divine honours were contingent upon a king’s performance of particular deeds, and so they could be removed or withdrawn when he failed to continue doing good for the community.⁶⁸ At the beginning, Demetrius I was treated like a god immediately after ‘liberating’ Athens from Cassander in 307 and 304, whereas his ‘saving’ must have been viewed with much less enthusiasm in retrospect, especially when he started to encroach upon the city’s autonomy and therefore to reverse the very achievement for which he originally received the title. We can conceptualize Demetrius’ position as being highest up the scale and closest to that of the gods in 307 in 304, but moving down the scale as he failed to live up to the Athenians’ expectations. Subsequently he dropped off the scale when the city revolted and discontinued his cult, but it was brought back during the second period of Macedonian domination as an expression of loyalty to the Antigonids.

5.2.2 Antigonus II During the second period of Macedonian domination in Athens (262–229 ), Antigonus II, son of Demetrius I, was also granted divine honours as ‘saviour’. Contrary to the widely held assumption that, unlike most other Hellenistic monarchs, Antigonus II discouraged or did not receive divine worship, a divine cult in Athens and Rhamnus in his honour, and possibly another in Ios, have come to light.⁶⁹ A decree from Rhamnus reveals that ‘King Antigonus, saviour of the demos, continues doing good to the demos of Athens and because of this the demos honoured him with godlike honours (ἰσόθεοι τιμαί)’. The demos who voted for these honours refers to the Athenians rather than the people of Rhamnus. Following the decision of the polis to honour Antigonus II as ‘saviour of the people’, the demesmen of Rhamnus now resolved to sacrifice to the king (θύειν αὐτῶι) each year at the gymnastic contest of the Great Nemesia and to wear crowns.⁷⁰ The decree does not make explicit the historical context for honouring Antigonus II, but the most likely occasion seems to be the king’s withdrawal of his garrison from the Museum Hill in 256 or 255, an act which supposedly ⁶⁷ This develops from the idea of a ‘sliding scale’ in Currie (2005), 176–7. ⁶⁸ On the duration and abolition of ruler cults, see the excellent discussion in Habicht (1970), 85–92. ⁶⁹ Outside Attica, there is possibly another divine cult for Antigonus II under the title of Soter in Ios (IG XII Suppl. 168); this is discussed at length by Habicht (1970), 65–73, 256–7, and the arguments will not be repeated here. ⁷⁰ I.Rhamnous, no. 7 (262–240/239 ). A later decree, I.Rhamnous, no. 17 (236/5 or 235/4), reveals that the sacrifices to Antigonus II had been interrupted by the ‘war of Demetrius’ (239 or 238 to 229) and were reinstituted during the reign of his son and successor Demetrius II.

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‘liberated’ the city to some extent.⁷¹ Overlooking the administrative and symbolic centre of Athens, the hill had been formerly garrisoned by Demetrius I in 295 but was subsequently freed in 287.⁷² A garrison was again imposed when Athens lost the Chremonidean War, and according to Pausanias, ‘in time Antigonus removed the garrison of his own accord’. This seems to be the action referred to in Eusebius’ Chronicle for the year 256: ‘Antigonus gave freedom to the Athenians’ (Antigonus Atheniensibus rursus dedit libertatem).⁷³ Antigonus II’s removal of this visible symbol of Macedonian domination might have been considered a significant concession, and might have evoked hope of Athens’ eventual liberation, even though the city was far from being completely ‘freed’ from Macedonian domination. Recently Oetjen has shown that in 255 all the fortified places including Rhamnus were returned to the Athenians and the phrourarchoi removed, except four key places (Piraeus, Munychia, Salamis, and Sunium) which were returned in 229 by the Macedonian commander Diogenes.⁷⁴ That Rhamnus was freed in 255 would explain well why the deme would follow the polis in sacrificing to the king. If it is correct to think that Antigonus II became ‘saviour of the demos’ for these reasons, this would suggest that the benefits associated with royal ‘saviours’ could vary greatly in kind and magnitude—ranging from the expulsion of another foreign power, to a ruler’s relaxation (but not withdrawal) of his own military control. There is a hint of irony in honouring the very monarch who had deprived the city of freedom, but what was more important in the given circumstances must have been its partial restoration or relief from the present hardships, even if it was the same person who had caused it. The sacrifice to Antigonus II in Rhamnus was discontinued after Athens was finally freed from Macedonian rule in 229 .⁷⁵ It may be significant that, just as divine honours for this ‘saviour’ disappeared from Athenian cultic practices, another pair of saviours came to light: Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira appear in epigraphic records in Rhamnus from the year 229,⁷⁶ and received sacrifices commemorating the city’s recovery of ancestral freedom. Even if the joint cult had existed already in Rhamnus before then (rather than being newly established

⁷¹ This has been suggested by Gauthier in BE (1994), no. 299, and Habicht (1996), reprinted in Habicht (2006), 285–8. Other suggestions are e.g. the conclusion of peace with Alexandros of Corinth (Krallis (2003)); Antigonus II’s defence of Athens against an offensive of Ptolemy II (Oetjen (2014), 118–21); and Antigonus II’s defeat of the Gauls in Lysimacheia in 278 or 277 (Just. Epit. 25.1–2; Diog. Laert. 2.142; IG II/III³ 1, 1034; Nachtergael (1977), 177; Will (1979–82), vol. 1, 108–9; Haake (2001), 116–18; Mitchell (2003), 283). ⁷² Plut. Dem. 34. ⁷³ Apollodorus FGrH 244 F 44; Paus. 3.6.6; Euseb. Chron. 2.120 Schöne. See also Gabbert (1982), 174–6; Hammond and Walbank (1972–88), vol. 3, 288, 293, 596 n. 8. ⁷⁴ Plut. Arat. 34.4–6; Paus. 2.8.6; Oetjen (2014), 111ff. ⁷⁵ I.Rhamnous, no. 31 (225/4 ) mentions sacrifice to Nemesis alone in lines 15–18. ⁷⁶ Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira in Rhamnus: I.Rhamnous, nos. 22, 26, 31, 146, 148–53. Athens’ patrios eleutheria is alluded to in nos. 22 and 26.

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under the impetus of 229), Athens’ change of fortune in 229 must have given new importance to the cult and the soteria associated with it.

5.2.3 Antigonus III Compared to the last few Antigonids, whose worship as ‘saviours’ was confined to particular localities, Antigonus III (son of Antigonus II’s half-brother) is said to have been thus honoured in Sparta and more widely in Greece. After defeating Cleomenes III and becoming the master of Sparta in 222 ,⁷⁷ Antigonus III restored to the Spartans their ancestral constitution and eleutheria, and conferred on them the greatest public and private good. In recognition of the king’s favours, ‘not only therefore was he regarded as their benefactor at the time but after his death he was venerated as their preserver (σωτήρ), and it was not only in Sparta alone but throughout Greece that he received undying honour and glory (ἀθάνατος δόξα καὶ τιμή)’.⁷⁸ Despite Polybius’s distinction between the use of euergetes (in life) and soter (after death), it seems more likely that the king was publicly honoured as both already in his lifetime. Elsewhere Polybius tells us that the Spartans proclaimed Antigonus III as their ‘saviour and benefactor’ in public festivals in the hearing of all Greece.⁷⁹ The κοιναὶ πανηγύρεις must have been the Panhellenic Games, specifically the Nemean Games held in Argos in probably 222 , which Antigonus III passed by shortly after taking over Sparta. On that occasion, and in the presence of the king, the Achaean League and each of its members bestowed on him ‘immortal glory and honour’.⁸⁰ The ἀθάνατος δόξα καὶ τιμή, twiced referred to in identical formulation by Polybius without further specification, probably constituted sacrifices, processions, games, statues, and cities named after the king.⁸¹ Notwithstanding the proclamation of Antigonus III as ‘saviour and benefactor’ in a Panhellenic setting, his title Soter is attested epigraphically for him in only a few places, and does not seem to have become Panhellenic as Polybius suggests. One instance comes from the village of Geronthrai not far from Sparta; there a small altar, probably set up by an individual, is inscribed βασιλέος Ἀντιγόνου

⁷⁷ On the date of the battle of Sellasia, see Walbank (1957–79), vol. 1, 272–3. ⁷⁸ Polyb. 5.9.8–10 (tr. Loeb). On Antigonus’ treatment of the Spartans, see also Plut. Arat. 46; Plut. Cleom. 28–30. ⁷⁹ Polyb. 9.36.5. ⁸⁰ Polyb. 2.70.4–5, see also 18.6.6. The Nemean Games were probably postponed from 223 to 222 because of war: see Walbank’s commentary on Polyb. 2.70.4. Gauthier (1985), 50–2, postulates that Antigonus might have been greeted by a crowd of Spartans as their euergetes and soter in 222; his titles might then have been formally recognized in an honorific decree passed by the assembly which has not come down to us, and the proclamations in the Nemean Games was probably based on the civic decree. ⁸¹ On various honours bestowed on Antigonus III by the Achaeans and others, see e.g. Plut. Arat. 45.3; Walbank (1957–79), vol. 1, 290; le Bohec-Bouhet (1993), 458–62.

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Σωτῆρος (‘of King Antigonus Soter’).⁸² This might be an example of private individuals following a state decision in calling a monarch Soter. Elsewhere in the Peloponnese, Antigonus III was honoured as ‘Soter and Euergetes’ in Mantinea. He had taken over Mantinea and granted it to the Achaeans in 223/2 ; after that the city was renamed Antigoneia after the king. Antigonus was the Achaeans’ ‘benefactor’ for helping them acquire this place, whereas the word Soter might refer to his general protection as the ‘founder’ of the new city.⁸³ Back in Macedonia, an altar ‘of Zeus and King Antigonus Soter’ in Oreskeia, if correctly attributed to Antigonus III, may relate to his successful defence of Macedonia against the Illyrian invasion in 221 .⁸⁴ Each of these objects, then, can be connected to a specific context and does not reflect any Panhellenic recognition of Antigonus III as Soter. Even towards the end of the third century , specific achievements or benefactions by the kings continued to constitute the main reason for honouring them as ‘saviour’.

5.3 The Ptolemies 5.3.1 Ptolemy I Whereas the above Antigonids were locally honoured as Soteres in various Greek communities, Ptolemy I was recognized as Soter much more widely across the Ptolemaic kingdom and beyond.⁸⁵ He is probably the most well-known ‘saviour’ figure among the Hellenistic monarchs and, as we shall see, he acquired this title through various processes and agents—local communities, private individuals, and the Ptolemaic royal house all played a role.

5.3.1.1 Rhodian honours Ptolemy I appears to have been first honoured as Soter locally in Rhodes for defending the city against the aggression of Demetrius I. The Lindian Chronicle records how, when the Rhodians were besieged by Demetrius I from 305 to 304 , Athena Lindia appeared in the dream of her former priest repeatedly for six ⁸² IG V.1 1122 (after 221). Influenced by Polyb. 5.9.8–10, which says that Antigonus was called Soter posthumously, Tillyard (1904–5), 111–12, no. 11, and le Bohec-Bouhet (1993), 459, think that this dedication was set up after Antigonus’ death in 221. ⁸³ IG V.2 299 (Mantinea, 221 ): [βασιλέα Ἀντίγονον βασ]ιλέως Δημητρίου [ἡ πόλις Ἀντιγονέων τὸν σ]ω̣τῆρα καὶ εὐεργέτην. On the possible context, see Polyb. 2.56–8; Plut. Arat. 45.8–9; Fougères (1898), 503–4. ⁸⁴ SEG XLVIII 812 (Oreskeia, c.222/1 ): Διὸς καὶ βασιλέως Ἀντιγόνου Σωτῆρος ἐπὶ ἐπιστάτου Αἰνείου τοῦ Δημητρίου εὐεργέτου ⟦καὶ⟧ ⟦Ε̣ὐ̣δ̣ή̣ μ̣ο̣υ̣ τ̣ο̣ῦ̣⟧. It is disputed whether euergetes is referring to King Antigonus or the epistates, as discussed by Hatzopoulos in BE (1999), no. 378. Chaniotis in the apparatus criticus of SEG suggests that ‘one cannot exclude an attribution to Antigonos Gonatas’. Illyrian invasion: Polyb. 2.70.4–5; Plut. Cleom. 30. ⁸⁵ Ptolemaic kings securely attested as Soter include Ptolemy I, Ptolemy IV, and Ptolemy IX.

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nights, commanding him to ask one of the prytaneis to write to Ptolemy I,⁸⁶ who was Rhodes’ most important ally at the time. According to Diodorus Siculus, the Egyptian king sent forces and food more than once, and when the siege ended in a peace settlement, the Rhodians, in consultation with the oracle of Ammon in Libya, honoured Ptolemy as a god (Πτολεμαῖον ὡς θεὸν τιμῆσαι) and dedicated to him a precinct called the Ptolemaeum. Lesser honours, in the form of honorific statues but presumably without a cult, were granted for Cassander and Lysimachus, who had also sent aid and who ‘held second place in general opinion, yet made great contributions to the salvation of the city (πρὸς τὴν τῆς πόλεως σωτηρίαν)’.⁸⁷ Ptolemy I alone received a fully fledged cult: a priest of Ptolemy I (without epithet) is still attested in Rhodes in the late third century , and a paean in honour of him (probably accompanied by sacrifices?) is mentioned by the Rhodian historian Gorgo in his On the Sacrifices in Rhodes.⁸⁸ None of these sources mentions the title Soter, but Ptolemy I had evidently contributed greatly πρὸς τὴν τῆς πόλεως σωτηρίαν. The only ancient source which attributes Ptolemy’s well-known epithet Soter to the Rhodians is Pausanias: when describing the statues of the various Ptolemies at the entrance of the Odeum at Athens, Pausanias explains that Ptolemy son of Lagus was given the name Soter by the Rhodians.⁸⁹ Most historians relate this passage to Ptolemy I’s intervention in Rhodes in 305–304 , and it is widely accepted that Ptolemy received his title Soter from the Rhodians.⁹⁰ Recently, however, some scholars have questioned the reliability of Pausanias’ statement on the grounds that he is inaccurate in other Ptolemaic matters, and also that the epithet is absent in both Diodorus’ account and Rhodian documents. Instead, they have postulated alternative origins for Ptolemy I’s title which are no more convincing.⁹¹ We should not expect a locally ⁸⁶ Lindos II, no. 2.D.95–115, with Higbie (2003), 149–51. On the siege, see Diod. Sic. 20.82ff.; Berthold (1984), ch. 3. ⁸⁷ Diod. Sic. 20.84.1, 88.9, 96.1–3, 98.1, 99.2, and especially 100.1–4 on the honours (tr. Loeb). ⁸⁸ Priesthood: Segre (1941), esp. 35–6. Paean: Gorgo, FGrH 515 F 19 = Ath. 15.696f–697a. ⁸⁹ Paus. 1.8.6: καλοῦσι . . . τὸν δὲ τοῦ Λάγου Σωτῆρα παραδόντων Ῥοδίων τὸ ὄνομα. See also Paus. 1.6.2, cf. Arr. Anab. 6.11.8, Curt. 9.5.21: Arrian and Quintus Curtius explicitly refute the tradition that Ptolemy was called Soter for saving Alexander in India, as Ptolemy himself said that he was not present on the occasion. ⁹⁰ e.g. Strack (1897), 128; Habicht (1970), 109; Will (1979–82), 201; Berthold (1984), 78; Walbank (1984), 92; Green (1990), 32–3; Johnnson (2000), 102–6; Hauben (2010); Hölbl (2001) 93, cf. 116 nn. 79–80; Caneva (2020a); Caneva (2020b), 137. ⁹¹ Hazzard (1992) and Hazzard (2000), ch. 1, argue that Ptolemy I did not receive this title from the Rhodians in his lifetime, but posthumously from his son in 263/2. More recently, Worthington (2016a) and Worthington (2016b), 168–9, suggest that Ptolemy I received the title Soter from the Egyptians for defending them from an Antigonid invasion in 306 , but this is not supported by any evidence. Seemingly supporting Worthington’s hypothesis, but not considered by him, is a demotic text from the temple of Deir El-Bahari first published by Brecciani (1983), which bears a dating formula in the second year of king Ptolemy (I, in Brecciani’s view) and an expression referring to Ptolemy as p3y nsw nht p3 ┌ ┐ S tr, meaning ‘king protector, Soter’. However, Clarysse (1987), 30 n. 78 has questioned the early Ptolemaic date of this text on palaeographical grounds, and in a new edition of the text Vleeming (2015), 147–9, no. 1529 has now down-dated it to the second year of Ptolemy II (284 ) and interpreted Soter as part of his patronymic.

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conferred title to be applied consistently; its absence in the Rhodian sources does not allow us to draw any firm conclusion that the title was not used. Ptolemy I could justifiably be called the Rhodians’ ‘Saviour’ if by supplying troops and food he enabled them to hold out. If the Rhodians indeed honoured him as Soter in 304, this would be a mockery of their aggressor Demetrius I, who was honoured as ‘Saviour’ in Athens a few years before and who, because of his siege engines in this campaign, became commonly known as Poliorcetes.⁹²

5.3.1.2 Individual initiatives Despite possible Rhodian initiatives in honouring Ptolemy I as Soter, the king’s title is rarely attested during his lifetime. Two intriguing instances from Egypt, neither of which shows any identifiable Rhodian influence, raise the possibility that certain individuals might have referred to their reigning king as Soter of their own accord. Both of these concern objects set up by private individuals, and they constitute the only epigraphic attestations of Ptolemy I under the title of Soter during his reign. One of these is a bilingual text in Greek and demotic on a rectangular statue base, erected in Egypt (precise provenance unknown) by a certain Diodotos son of Achaios ‘(in honour of ) King Ptolemy Soter, Diodotos son of Achaios’ (βασιλέα Πτολεμαῖον Σωτῆρα Διόδοτος Ἀχαιοῦ). The lettering of both the Greek and the demotic supports a date in the third century  (Fig. 23),

Fig. 23 Rectangular statue base set up in Egypt by Diodotos son of Achaios in honour of Ptolemy I Soter, 305–282  (CPI 605).

⁹² Poliorcetes: Diod. Sic. 20.92.2.

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Fig. 24 Limestone plaque set up by three individuals in honour of Ptolemy I and Berenice I as Theoi Soteres, 305–282  (CPI 323).

and the editors have dated it to the lifetime of Ptolemy I.⁹³ The other dedication is a small limestone plaque found in the modern village of Kom El-Ahmar in Middle Egypt (Fig. 24), inscribed ‘(in honour of ) King Ptolemy and Queen Berenice, Theoi Soteres; Heliodoros, Thymoides, Hermogenes, having been saved, in fulfilment of a vow’ (βασιλέα Πτολεμαῖον καὶ βασίλισσαν Βερενίκην θεοὺς Σωτῆρας Ἡλιόδωρος Θυμώιδης Ἑρμογένης σωθέντες εὐχήν).⁹⁴ If Ptolemy I and his wife are correctly identified as the royal couple here,⁹⁵ their title Theoi Soteres may reflect the three individuals’ own initiative in recognizing the king and queen as ‘saviours’ for particular benefactions they had received. It seems possible that the royal couple were, exceptionally, honoured as ‘Saviour Gods’ in their lifetime because of the ‘saving’ attributed to them.⁹⁶ This limestone plaque therefore has important implications not only for the private use of the title Soter for Ptolemy I but also for the ‘saving’ power of the king and queen. In what ways did the royal couple ⁹³ CPI 605; OGIS 19; Breccia (1911), no. 1. Vleeming (2001), 68–9, no. 98, gives both the Greek and demotic. ⁹⁴ CPI 323; Rubensohn (1913), no. 1; Lajtar (1999), no. 53; I.Varsovie, no. 50; Pfeiffer (2015), no. 5. On the use of the accusative in honorific inscriptions, see Ma (2013), 49ff. ⁹⁵ Rubensohn (1913) in the editio princeps argued for the reign of Ptolemy I and Berenice I, whereas Lajtar in I.Varsovie, no. 50, proposes a much later date in the first century  and identifies the couple as Ptolemy IX and Berenice III. Pfeiffer (2015) leaves open both possibilities. Recently, however, the editors of CPI 323 have dated the inscription to the reign of Ptolemy I on palaeographic grounds. ⁹⁶ Such is the view of Rubensohn (1913) and Wilcken (1913), 202 n. 1, followed by Fraser (1956), 51 n. 1, Fraser (1972), vol. 2, 367–8 n. 229, and Crowther (2020), 259–63. The inscription is also discussed in Jim (2021).

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actually save the three individuals? Were they soldiers or military officers in the king’s service? Could they have been captured by some barbarians but were ransomed and freed? We have just seen how Ptolemy I delivered the Rhodians from the siege of Demetrius I by sending grain and military forces, but even if monarchs could send supplies of food, money, and troops, individuals on a dangerous journey or campaign are much more likely to have appealed to a ‘saviour’ god and not a king when in perils. Monarchs could save in ways within the limits of powerful human beings, such as by providing financial and military aid, but are much less likely to be able to help when individuals were caught in bad weather, drowned at sea, or attacked by wild animals. It is worth noting that the queen is here honoured alongside the king as Theoi Soteres. We shall return to cult titles of Ptolemaic queens later.

5.3.1.3 Royal promotion by Ptolemy II Only after the death of Ptolemy I do we find plenty of references to him as Soter. More than two decades after the siege in Rhodes, the cult of Ptolemy Soter is firmly attested epigraphically in the decree of the Nesiotic League, usually dated to c.280 .⁹⁷ The decree was a response to Ptolemy II Philadelphus’ invitation to recognize the expansion to isolympic status of the Ptolemaea in Alexandria, which was held in honour of the then deceased Ptolemy I, and to send theoroi to it in perpetuity. The Islanders were ready to comply since, depending on the supplement, they were ‘the first (πρώ[τοις] or πρῶ[τον]) to have honoured Ptolemy Soter with divine honours’ or had ‘formerly’ (πρ[ότερον]) honoured him this way.⁹⁸ On what former occasion, then, might the Islanders have granted Ptolemy I isotheoi timai? Habicht associated the earlier honours to Ptolemy’s takeover (and therefore supposed ‘liberation’) of the Nesiotic League from Demetrius I in 287/6.⁹⁹ Nevertheless, even if an earlier cult for Ptolemy I Soter had been established by the Islanders in 287/6, this would not be the first time in Hellenistic history when a king received a lifetime cult and the title of Soter: it was preceded by the cult of

⁹⁷ IG XII.7 506 = Syll.³ 390. Date: see bibliography in Constantakopoulou (2017), 40 n. 40. Hazzard (2000), 47–58, argues for a lower date of this decree in 262 , but see Chaniotis’s remarks in SEG LIII 907. ⁹⁸ Lines 27–8: πρώ[τοις] in Delamarre (1896), 104, and Syll.³ 390; πρῶ[τον] in Holleaux (1907), 343 n. 2; but πρ[ότερον] in IG XII.7 506. The statement is sometimes interpreted as meaning that the Islanders were the first of the Greeks to honour Ptolemy with the title of Soter, and therefore before the Rhodians did. However, as rightly noted by Tarn (1913), 438–9, and Nock (1951), 129 (722 in reprint), πρώ[– – – –] is referring not to the title Soter specifically but to the isotheoi timai, which, in my view, could but need not be accompanied by the epithet. ⁹⁹ See lines 10–16 (on Ptolemy I’s earlier service to the Islanders), with discussions in Habicht (1970), 69 n. 41, 112 n. 6. On the League under Ptolemaic rule, see Merker (1970), Bagnall (1976), 136–58. Contrary to the traditional view that the League was founded in 314 by the Antigonids, Meadows (2013) argues that it was founded in the early years of Ptolemy II, but see criticisms in e.g. Buraselis (2015), 360–1, Constantakopoulou (2017), 33ff.

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Antigonus I and Demetrius I as Soteres in Athens in 307 . We also need to exercise caution when inferring from the decree a pre-existing ruler cult among the Islanders. Claims of previous honours for Hellenistic kings are difficult to verify without corroborating evidence.¹⁰⁰ References to past honours for the kings exemplify the strategy, in civic decrees as in royal letters, of situating the present honours in a continuum of past favours and future benefactions rather than of focusing on a particular action in isolation.¹⁰¹ In the Islanders’ decree Ptolemy I is referred to under the title of Soter as many as four times,¹⁰² but an important complication is often overlooked: whose use of the word was it? Were the Islanders following Ptolemy II’s reference to his father as such in his letter, or were they already referring to the king as Soter even before and independently from Ptolemy II’s letter and wording? The case cannot be determined as we lack Ptolemy II’s original letter and comparable responses from other invited cities.¹⁰³ Similar complications apply to various other contemporary decrees dating from the reign of Ptolemy II and alluding to the worship of the deceased Ptolemy I Soter in different parts of the Greek world, namely in Delos, Naxos, and Miletus.¹⁰⁴ All these references testify only to what Ptolemy I was called at the time these decrees were passed, but not necessarily the establishment or existence of his cult under that title at an earlier date or in his lifetime. Despite all the scholarly debates on the divinity of Ptolemy I based on the decree of the Nesiotic League, therefore, all that this inscription testifies to securely is that Ptolemy I was called Soter by the Islanders by that date: the year c.280 provides the terminus ante quem for its use among the Islanders. It seems highly probable that the Islanders were using Ptolemy I’s official title after its formalization and promotion by his son. Shortly after Ptolemy I’s death in 283, Ptolemy II proclaimed the deification of his father as ‘Saviour God’ in c.280, instituted the already-mentioned Ptolemaea in Alexandria, and invited theoroi from different Greek cities.¹⁰⁵ It was also during his reign that coins were minted

¹⁰⁰ Similar claims were made by several other cities, e.g. OGIS 6.25 (Scepsis, 311 ); OGIS 219.16ff. (Ilium, 279–274 ). The decree of Scepsis in 311  resolves to honour Antigonus I (without epithet) with sacrifice and festival each year just as before (καθάπερ καὶ πρότερο[ν]), which, if reliable, would push back the date of the earliest known ruler cult of Alexander’s successors even further. ¹⁰¹ Ma (2000), 186–7. ¹⁰² Syll.³ 390 lines 11, 28, 43–4, 48–9. ¹⁰³ Only two responses survive. Apart from the decree of the Nesiotic League under discussion (Syll.³ 390), the only extant response is the fragmentary CID IV 40 (262/1 or 266/5 ) from the Delphic Amphictyony; yet the title Soter is not used in its surviving part. ¹⁰⁴ Delos: Syll.³ 390.48–9; IG XI.4 1038, lines 16–17, 23–5, with commentary in Durrbach (1921), no. 21. Naxos: IG XII.4 135.31–2; Crowther (1999), 257–66, no. 2 = SEG XLIX 1106. Miletus: I.Delphinion 139, lines 24, 54. The cults in all three places are discussed in Habicht (1970). Naxos was a member of the Nesiotic League, whereas Delos’ membership is less clear, as discussed in Bagnall (1976), 151–2. ¹⁰⁵ The Alexandrian Ptolemaea is also mentioned in IG V.2 118. On the Ptolemaea at Alexandria, see Callixeinus, FGrH 627 F 2 = Ath. 5.196a–203b (on the spectacle); Dunand (1981); Rice (1983); Walbank (1996); Thompson (2000).

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with the legend ΠΤΟΛΕΜΑΙΟΥ ΣΩΤΗΡΟΣ.¹⁰⁶ Soter was appropriately chosen as a royal epithet for the founder of the Ptolemaic dynasty: as the pharoahs already bore Egyptian titles which expressed the idea of ‘saviour’, the Greek epithet could be refashioned to become an equivalent to these existing Egyptian titles. By capturing a similar notion in Egyptian titulature, it could gain wide acceptance by the Egyptian communities.¹⁰⁷ Ptolemy II’s initiatives must have promoted the use and adoption of the title Soter for his father in Egypt and beyond, as for instance among the participating states in the Alexandrian Ptolemaea. His initiatives would also explain why Ptolemy I became widely known as Soter only posthumously: epigraphic attestations of his title Soter (with or without Theos) almost always come from the period after his death.¹⁰⁸ When Ptolemy I’s wife Berenice I died, she was also deified and included in the worship of Ptolemy I, and the deceased couple were jointly honoured as ‘Saviour Gods’ (Theoi Soteres). Theocritus’ Idyll 17, a eulogy to Ptolemy II dated between 279 and 270, speaks of the shrines and sacrifices which the king established for his deceased parents, and of the gold and ivory statues in their honour as ‘helpers to all mankind’ (πάντεσσιν ἐπιχθονίοισιν ἀρωγοί).¹⁰⁹ In epigraphic evidence the deceased couple were frequently referred to as Theoi Soteres or simply Soteres.¹¹⁰ If it is correct to think that Ptolemy I was called Soter spontaneously among the Rhodians in 304 and momentarily by certain individuals during his lifetime already before Ptolemy II’s initiative to promote his father’s image as ‘saviour’, this would be a case where an epithet used locally by his allied city and unofficially by particular individuals came to be formally adopted and officially propagated in his realm after his death. Instead of eliminating the apparent anomaly presented by the two private inscriptions discussed earlier, the possible role of individuals in recognizing their reigning king as Soter, that is, prior to and independently from Ptolemy II’s initiative to honour his father as such, at least deserves to be considered. The role of the Nesiotic League in the process is more difficult to pin down: it is not clear whether the Islanders’ cultic honours and cult title for Ptolemy I provided one of the building blocks for an official royal cult, or whether (as seems more probable) they were stimulated by Ptolemy II’s honours for his father under

¹⁰⁶ These coins date to 263/2 or after. See Svoronos (1904–8), nos. 650–704, 722–57, 765–87, 794–817, 821–33 (the earliest one is no. 821). ¹⁰⁷ See Koenen (1993), esp. 61. ¹⁰⁸ e.g. Breccia (1911), nos. 2–3; IG XI.4 1123–4; I.Delphinion 139; OGIS 16, 103.5. ¹⁰⁹ Theoc. Id. 17.121ff., at 125. Gow (1950), vol. 2, 345, explains ἀρωγοί as Σωτῆρες. Cf. Hunter (2003), 189: ‘it is tempting to see in ἀρωγός an allusion to that title [sc. Soter]’, but Hunter thinks that it is uncertain if Soter was already in use as Ptolemy I’s title in the time Theocritus’ Encomium was composed. ¹¹⁰ e.g. I.Alex.Ptol. 8; Evelyn-White and Oliver (1938), Part II, no. 7; OGIS 22–3, 29 (supplemented), 54.3, 56.22, 90.4, 90.38, 724, 725, 739.4. The theoi soteres in the inscription on the Alexandrian lighthouse (Lucian, Hist. conscr. 62; SB 7332) can be interpreted as referring to Ptolemy Soter and Berenice or to the Dioscuri.

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that title. What is important for us to recognize is the dynamic interaction possible between different agents using the title: local and individual uses could have provided the forerunner for a royal cult under that title, and the royal cult might in turn have encouraged its adoption more widely in other localities.

5.3.1.4 Founder and saviour in Ptolemais Hermiou Separately from the royal cult established by his son for him, Ptolemy I also received cult in Ptolemais Hermiou (also known as Ptolemais in the Thebaid), a new city founded by the king in Upper Egypt.¹¹¹ A Roman copy of a Hellenistic decree from Ptolemais mentions its foundation by ‘[King Ptolemy] Theos Soter’ and the ‘protection’ ([προσ]τασία) he offered.¹¹² The king is similarly referred to as Theos Soter in a Hellenistic altar at Philae, set up by the garrison forces of Ptolemais.¹¹³ Unlike the centrally administered dynastic cult which came to an end with the end of the Ptolemaic dynasty, this founder cult in Ptolemais continued in the Roman period. Inscriptions from as late as the third century  still attest to his cult under the titles of θεὸς Σωτήρ, ὁ μέγιστος θεὸς Σωτήρ, or simply Σωτήρ.¹¹⁴ A cult probably existed in Ptolemais Hermiou during Ptolemy I’s lifetime in his capacity as its founder, but whether he was called Soter or Theos Soter already then cannot be verified. It seems probable that the king was referred to as Theos Soter only after 215 , when Ptolemy IV Philopator not only introduced his great-grandfather Ptolemy Soter into the dynastic cult at Alexandria¹¹⁵ but also established a separate eponymous priesthood for him at Ptolemais Hermiou.¹¹⁶ On the other hand, if Ptolemy I was indeed honoured as Soter or Theos Soter already in life as the founder of the city, this would be an interesting early case where a king became Soter not on account of delivering a community from some threat, but on account of his act of foundation and the general protection he offered as its founder. This would be comparable to the role of Antigonus III as ‘saviour’ in Antigoneia (renamed from Mantinea) discussed

¹¹¹ On the city foundation, see Cohen (2006), 350–2; Müller (2006), 166–8; Bowman (2020), 67ff. ¹¹² CPI 358; I.Prose, no. 62; Fraser (1959–60), no. 1; Pfeiffer (2015), no. 3 (with bibliography). ¹¹³ CPI 451; I.Philae, no. 20; SB 3448 = Plaumann (1910), 51ff. ¹¹⁴ I.Philae, no. 166 (Soter); P.London III 80 604B (ὁ μέγιστος θεὸς Σωτήρ); SB 7396 (ἱερὸν θεοῦ Σωτῆρος); Papyrus Fouad Ier inv. 211, published in Scherer (1942), 43ff., col. II, line 2 ([ἱ]ερὸν Σωτῆρος). The temple of Theoi Soteres in IGR I 1151 has been variously interpreted as referring to Ptolemy I and Berenice (Milne (1929), 32) and to the Dioscuri (Plaumann (1910), 94–6). ¹¹⁵ Ptolemy I’s deification as ‘Saviour God’ by Ptolemy II in c.280 is a separate matter from his integration into the ‘dynastic cult’ in Alexandria, that is, the cult originally set up by Ptolemy I in honour of Alexander the Great. It was not until the reign of Ptolemy IV Philopator that Ptolemy I and Berenice I were first included as Theoi Soteres in the eponymous dating formulae in their rightful position immediately after Alexander: see e.g. the dating formula in the Rosetta stone (OGIS 90.4–5), and discussion in Fraser (1972), vol. 1, 218–19, 224. ¹¹⁶ Habicht (1970), 123; Fraser (1972), vol. 1, 219–20.

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earlier. In the later Hellenistic period, it was not uncommon to find kings honoured as both ‘founder’ and ‘saviour’.¹¹⁷

5.3.2 Ptolemy IX Soter II Almost two centuries after Ptolemy I Soter earned his title in Rhodes by a specific deed, Ptolemy IX appears to have assumed the title as soon as he came to the throne. A marriage contract in a demotic papyrus dated to the first year of his reign (116 ) already refers to him under the titles of Philometor Soter.¹¹⁸ Coins issued during his lifetime bear the legend ΣΩΤΗΡΟΣ.¹¹⁹ It is unclear whether the title was chosen by himself or by his mother and joint-ruler Cleopatra III (wife of Ptolemy VIII Euergetes II), but using the same epithet as Ptolemy I could doubtless evoke the founder of the dynasty. Ptolemy IX is sometimes referred to in the sources as ‘the second Soter’ (ὁ δεύτερος Σωτῆρ),¹²⁰ which may suggest the existence of some official list recording the Ptolemaic kings’ official titles. Already during their reign, Ptolemy IX and Cleopatra III were referred to jointly as θεοὶ μεγάλοι Φιλομήτορες καὶ Σωτῆρες or θεοὶ Φιλομήτορες Σωτῆρες.¹²¹ Ptolemy IX is the first identifiable example we have of a king carrying the title Soter without any evidence of an associated ‘saving’ deed; this phenomenon was common with later kings, especially those in minor dynasties.

5.3.3 Ptolemaic Queens Various Ptolemaic queens were honoured as ‘Saviouress’, but none of them appears to have obtained the title by any major ‘saving’ deed. We have already met Berenice I, who was deified posthumously and honoured jointly with Ptolemy I Soter in the royal cult as Theoi Soteres.¹²² Berenice received this title by virtue of her husband called Soter, and not because of any specific saving she had formerly performed in her lifetime.¹²³ After Berenice I, both Arsinoë II and Berenice II (wives of Ptolemy II and Ptolemy III respectively) are attested under the cult title Sozousa (‘the Saving One’). In Alexandria was a street named Arsinoë Sozousa: there might have been an eponymous shrine for her under that title in this street, but whether it was a ¹¹⁷ Antigonus III in Mantinea: see n. 83. Later kings honoured as both Ktistes and Soter are: Philip V in Nikiti (Hatzopoulos, Macedonian Institutions II, no. 78), Eumenes II in Panion in Thrace (OGIS 301); Antiochus IV (I.Estremo Oriente 103). ¹¹⁸ P.Ryl.Dem. no. 20. His other title Philometor is explained in Paus. 1.9.1. ¹¹⁹ Svoronos (1904–8), nos. 1659ff. ¹²⁰ e.g. OGIS 173, I.Délos 1533–4. ¹²¹ CPI 2, 110, 368 = OGIS 739, 738, 167. ¹²² See n. 110. ¹²³ That is, with the possible exception of private dedication CPI 323 = Rubensohn (1913), no. 1, discussed earlier.

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lifetime or posthumous cult cannot be established.¹²⁴ Also in Alexandria was a temple on the shore in honour of Berenice Sozousa, constructed posthumously by her son.¹²⁵ Arsinoë II and Berenice II were called Sozousa probably by virtue of their association with Isis (for Egyptian eyes) and/or Aphrodite (for Greek ones), and of the safe sailing the queens could supposedly offer.¹²⁶ In a manner strikingly similar to Aphrodite, so Posidippus tells us, Arsinoë Aphrodite would grant fair voyage (εὔπλοια) to those who prayed to her amid a storm.¹²⁷ The role of Arsinoë II and Berenice II as protectress of sailors was promoted by the Ptolemaic royal house to reinforce the empire’s image as a naval power in the Mediterranean.¹²⁸ Their cults and cult titles represent a larger attempt to present the queens as goddesses who could act in ways comparable to the traditional goddesses. More Ptolemaic queens were honoured with cult and the cult title Soteira/ Sozousa than in other Hellenistic kingdoms probably because of the different status they enjoyed.¹²⁹ To name just two later examples, Ptolemy IX’s grandmother Cleopatra II (wife of Ptolemy VI Philometor and later Ptolemy VIII Euergetes II) seems to have assumed the titles Philometor Soteira in her lifetime from 132/1 after her revolt from Ptolemy VIII.¹³⁰ Upon her death in 116/5, her daughter and subsequent queen Cleopatra III used the same titles and added new ones of her own. She is attested in demotic papyri as Cleopatra Philometor Soteira Dikaiosyne Nikephoros;¹³¹ these epithets probably alluded to her close association with Isis.¹³²

¹²⁴ See street names in SB 7630.6, with discussions in Fraser (1972), vol. 1, 35–6, 237–8. ¹²⁵ Zenob. 3.94 (καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν αἰγιαλῶν δὲ ἱερὸν αὐτῇ ἱδρύσατο, ὅ ἐκάλουν Βερενίκης Σωζούσης). The temple of Berenice Sozousa mentioned in Zenobius has been associated with the temple of Berenice Aktia (‘Of the Seashore’) attested on a papyrus, P.Ryl. 585.27. ¹²⁶ On Arsinoë’s and other Ptolemaic queens’ association with Aphrodite and Isis, see e.g. Pomeroy (1990), 28–39; Fraser (1972), vol. 1, 237–40; Barbantani (2005); cf. recently Llewellyn-Jones and Winder (2016). Isis Sozousa: POxy. 1380.76. Aphrodite Sozousa: see Chapter 3 n. 57. Among the ‘Saving goddesses’ referred to in CPI 47 = I.Alex.Ptol. 49 = Fraser (1964), no. 10 (Ἴσι καὶ ταῖς ἄ̣[λλαις θε]αῖς ταῖς σῳ[ζούσαις]) may be Isis, other goddesses, and (as Fraser suggested in the addendum) Arsinoë II and Berenice II. ¹²⁷ Gow–Page, HE, Posidippus XIII = Ath. 7.318d; see also Gow–Page, HE, Posidippus XII for the shrine concerned, on Cape Zephyrium near Alexandria. ¹²⁸ Ptolemaic naval ambitions: Hauben (1983); Marquaille (2008), 58–60; Grabowski (2014), 29ff. On Hellenistic queens as protective goddesses, see Jim (2021). ¹²⁹ A possible example in the Seleucid kingdom is Laodice III and Antiochus III, jointly honoured as ‘comm[on saviour]s’ (κοιν[οὶ σωτῆρε]ς) in Ma (2000), no. 17, line 51 (by supplement). ¹³⁰ We owe our knowledge of this to the detailed dating formulae in Greek documents, which list the deified rulers served by the priest in the dynastic cult at Alexandria: P.Bad. II 2 (130/29); UPZ II 217. I.13 (131/130); Ijsewijn (1961), 120. ¹³¹ e.g. P.Cairo dem. 30602, 30603, partly translated in Rowlandson (1998), no. 34; Pap. Lugd. Bat. XV, pp. 66–8; Fraser (1972), vol. 1, 221. Other instances are listed in Thompson (1989), 699 n. 17. ¹³² See Dunand (1973), vol. 1, 41–2.

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5.4 The Seleucids 5.4.1 Seleucus I and Antiochus I in Aegae Among the four major Hellenistic dynasties the Seleucids had the largest number of kings attested as Soter,¹³³ the earliest of whom were Seleucus I and Antiochus I. After defeating Lysimachus in the battle of Corupedium in 281  and becoming the master of western Asia Minor, Seleucus I was given cultic honours in various local communities, independently or in conjunction with his son Antiochus I, and in some cases received the title of Soter. One of these cults has recently come to light from the city of Aegae in Aeolis.¹³⁴ Divine honours for Seleucus I and Antiochus I were established in Aegae shortly after Seleucus I’s victory over Lysimachus in 281 .¹³⁵ A recently published decree reveals that a precinct was to be drawn out and a temple was to be constructed next to the precinct of Apollo; there were to be two cult statues bearing the names of Seleucus and Antiochus, and an altar inscribed ‘of Saviours Seleucus and Antiochus’ facing the temple. The kings were to be the recipients of sacrifices, including a twice-monthly sacrifice on the day the city became free, and possibly of libations, incense, prayers (or vows), and paeans (perhaps in a musical contest in their honour).¹³⁶ Apart from a month renamed Seleukeon, there were to be two new tribes and two refurbished public buildings, the prytaneion and strategion, named after Seleucus and Antiochus. The kings were ‘saviours’ of Aegae in the sense of its ‘liberators’ from Lysimachus: their cult title emphasized the city’s newly attained soteria or eleutheria on the one hand, and was juxtaposed with the epithets of Zeus Soter and (Athena?) Soteira mentioned in the same decree on the other. Antiochus I does not feature in Justin’s admittedly brief account of Corupedium, and if he was not involved in the battle directly or indirectly, this would be an instance of a king getting the title not by virtue of any actual ‘saving’ performed, but by virtue of his co-rulership and genealogical relations with another royal Soter. The cult of Seleucus I and Antiochus I in Aegae reminds us of the elaborate honours voted for Antigonus I and Demetrius I in Athens in 307/6. But even if the honours were strikingly similar, the atmosphere in western Asia Minor must have been very different from that in Athens two and a half decades earlier. It is hard to believe that, after having been formerly under the Lydian and then the Persian ¹³³ Known Soteres among the Seleucids: Seleucus I, Antiochus I, Seleucus III, Antiochus III, Seleucus IV, (possibly) Antiochus IV, Demetrius I, Antiochus VII, and Demetrius III. ¹³⁴ Malay and Ricl (2009), no. 1 = SEG LIX 1406 A, CGRN, no. 137; with discussions in Sève in BE (2010), no. 522, and Habicht (2020). ¹³⁵ On the battle of Corupedium, see Just. Epit. 17.1.8–17.2.2; Grainger (1990), 183–4; Lund (1992), 205–6. ¹³⁶ The decree does not specify the recipients of the libations, prayers/vows, and paeans, but the kings are the most likely candidates.

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empires, and having repeatedly changed hands from one master to another for the last few decades (or centuries), the Greeks of Asia Minor would greet yet another king with the same enthusiasm as the Athenians did when Demetrius first freed them from Cassander in 307/6. In his work on Roman imperial cults in the Greek cities of Asia Minor, Price argued that ruler worship formed part of the process by which communities came to terms with a new ruler, but his elegant theory works less well for communities with long experiences of subjugation to monarchical power.¹³⁷ To what extent did the people in Aegae genuinely regard Seleucus I and Antiochus I as their ‘saviours’ or ‘liberators’? Might they have found it best to greet their new masters with what was becoming increasingly common in the treatment of Hellenistic monarchs? As might have become apparent in this chapter, ‘saving’ a city had become convenient Hellenistic terminology or euphemism for expelling one’s opponent and bringing a place under one’s own power. The stone is broken at the top where the ἐυεργετήματα were probably recorded, leaving it unclear what royal concessions were granted and what ‘becoming free’ (line 20: ἐλεύθ[ερ]ο̣ι̣ ἐγενόμεθα) actually entailed for the community.¹³⁸ The inscription represents the city’s version of the event in 281, and to draw on Ma’s insight, royal ‘benefactions’, ‘saving’, and ‘freedom’ provided a language with which the city constructed its own narrative of the events, instead of recording or remembering them in terms of conquest or suppression by an external power.¹³⁹ Underneath the apparent enthusiasm and unanimous support for the royal ‘saviours’ might have been dissent and unease about the new masters. Outside Aegae, cults of Seleucus I, in his own name or along with his son, are attested also in various other Asia Minor cities after 281 , including Priene, Ilium, Erythrae, Colophon, and Magnesia on the Maeander. Yet none of these is as elaborately documented as that in Aegae, and none uses the title Soter, except that in Lemnos.¹⁴⁰ Strategically located in the northern Aegean, Lemnos was previously an Athenian cleruchy and a highly valued Athenian possession. The island had recently passed from Lysimachus to Seleucus I after Corupedium and, just before his death in the same year, Seleucus restored the Lemnian cities of Hephaestia and Myrina to the Athenians.¹⁴¹ The third-century historian Phylarchus explains the enthusiastic response of the Athenians: ‘since they were ¹³⁷ Price (1984b). ¹³⁸ Malay and Ricl (2009), 43, think that it probably entailed liberation from Lysimachus, reestablishment of peace, and confirmation of the city’s ancestral constitution and laws. ¹³⁹ Ma (2000), 214–28. ¹⁴⁰ Priene: statues of Selecus I and Antiochus I (I.Priene 18 = I.Priene IK 29–31 = OGIS 215). Ilium: an altar in the agora inscribed ‘of king Se[leucus Nikator]’; sacrifices to the king; a month named after him; and penteteric contests in his honour (OGIS 212 = I.Ilion 31, Robert, Ét. anat. 172ff.). Erythrae: a festival called the Seleuceia, and a paean in which Seleucus is mentioned as the son of Apollo (IG XII.1 6; I.Erythrai 205 = LSAM 24). Magnesia on the Maeander and Colophon: a tribe named after Seleucus (I.Magnesia 5; Meritt (1935), 380–1, no. 6). Discussed in Habicht (1970), 82ff.; Grainger (1990), 185. ¹⁴¹ An Athenian decree honours Komeas (IG II/III³ 1, 884.39–42, 280/279 ), who seems to have led an embassy to Seleucus I and was probably involved in securing the island’s freedom for the Athenians (line 41: Ἀθηναίων ἐλεύθερας). Discussed in Paschidis (2008), 160–1.

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suffering at (πικρῶς ἐπιστατουμένοι) Lysimachus’ hands, Seleucus not only eliminated (ἐξαίρεσθαι) him, but restored both cities to them’. Because of this the Athenian cleruchs on Lemnos set up temples for both father and son, and poured libations to Seleucus as Soter—instead of conventionally to Zeus Soter.¹⁴² If Aegae and other western Asia Minor cities greeted the new king with a degree of reservation and compulsion, the Athenians had clearly reaped substantial benefits from the situation and must have been greatly delighted by the king’s benefaction. Seleucus I was Soter to the Athenian cleruchs in the sense of a ‘restorer’ of their former territorial possessions. The emergence of these Seleucid cults among the Greek poleis of western Asia Minor, to which the one at Aegae is now added, is sometimes seen as a wave of popular enthusiasm for Seleucus I on the one hand and a reflection of Lysimachus’ widespread unpopularity on the other.¹⁴³ However, Memnon, a local historian from Heraclea Pontica who drew on a third-century author Nymphis, offers a different picture from that in epigraphic evidence. Memnon tells how, ‘the Herakleans on learning that Lysimachos had been killed, . . . acted bravely with regard to their longing for freedom (πρὸς τὸν τῆς ἐλευθερίας ἀνδραγαθίζεσθαι πόθον), which they had been deprived of for eighty-four years both by tyrants of their own race and, after them, by Lysimachos’. They fell into arguments with Seleucus I’s envoy Aphrodisios, and sent a delegation to the king, doubtless to negotiate their eleutheria, but were dismissed.¹⁴⁴ What these Greek cities desired was not just ‘freedom from Lysimachus’, but political independence, freedom from external domination, and restoration of their ancestral institutions. Heraclea Pontica was, as the envoy said, ‘stronger’ (karron in Dorian) and therefore in a better position to negotiate than other cities, but even so was unsuccessful. Seleucus’ treatment of his subjects and their reactions to the king must have varied from one case to another. As we have just seen, the Athenians on Lemnos must have been much more grateful than the people in Aegae and the other cities of Asia Minor. The episode in Memnon nevertheless illustrates the potential unpopularity of the king in some quarters of Asia Minor after his victory; it also warns against the ready assumption, based on the cultic honours documented epigraphically, that Seleucus was enthusiastically welcomed everywhere as a ‘Saviour’. ¹⁴² Phylarchus FGrH 81 F 29 = Ath. 6.254f–255a (tr. Loeb). Cf. similar drinking rituals in honour of the Antigonids in Alexis fr. 116 K.-A. = Ath. 6.254a, Antiphanes fr. 81 = Ath. 10.423c. There was also a bronze statue in Athens in honour of Seleucus I: Paus. 1.16.1. Seleucus’ motives in returning the island to the Athenians are discussed in Lund (1992), 203–4. On Zeus Soter in drinking rituals, see Chapter 1.1. ¹⁴³ Lysimachus’ rule, especially in the last few years of his reign, is often depicted in a negative light in both ancient and modern scholarship: e.g. Phylarchus FGrH 81 F 29 = Ath. 6.254f–255a explicitly states that the Athenians were suffering (πικρῶς ἐπιστατουμένοι) at his hands; Memnon FGrH 434 F 5.7 speaks of ‘the hatred of his subjects’ (μῖσος παρὰ τῶν ὑπηκόων); Malay and Ricl (2009), 43: ‘liberation . . . from the detested rule of Lysimachos’. Contra Lund (1992), passim, esp. ch. 7, who questions this widely held negative image of Lysimachus. ¹⁴⁴ Memnon FGrH 434 F 6–7, quotation at F 6.1 (tr. Brill’s New Jacoby online).

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For cities which lacked Heraclea’s strength to negotiate with their king, ruler worship provided a way of securing the new master’s goodwill and acknowledging his power. It was a means of self-preservation in the constant political struggles between the Hellenistic superpowers. As the decree from Aegae explicitly puts, an embassy was to be dispatched to Seleucus ‘to praise him and ask him to preserve goodwill and friendship’.¹⁴⁵ Without necessarily implying that the soteria and eleutheria hoped for was attained, what the cult of the Seleucid ‘Saviours’ in Aegae testifies to is the Greek cities’ readiness to back a new winner in the constant political struggles, and the flexibility with which they applied the title of Soter.

5.4.2 Antiochus I and the Gauls Though jointly honoured with his father as Soter in Aegae, Antiochus I did not earn the title Soter in his own right until he defeated the Gauls. While Alexander’s successors were contending for power, the Gauls were preparing for the most spectacular invasion of Greece since the Persian Wars. We saw in Chapter 2 how, after invading Macedonia in 280, the group led by Brennus reached as far as Delphi in 279 but was miraculously repelled with the help of the gods. Another group entered eastern Thrace and was defeated by Antigonus II at Lysimacheia in 278 or 277,¹⁴⁶ and a different group crossed the Hellespont to Asia Minor in 278/7. Victory over the barbarians earned several Hellenistic kings the title of Soter. Antiochus I was the first of the Hellenistic kings to organize a sizable army to counter the Galatians’ incursion into Anatolia and, at some point between c.275 and 268, defeated them in the so-called ‘battle of the Elephants’. Appian explains that the king ‘was called Soter for driving out the Gauls who invaded Asia from Europe’.¹⁴⁷ The date of the epithet’s first appearance cannot be established with certainty, but cultic honours for Antiochus I under this title are attested during his lifetime in various communities of western Asia Minor. A decree from Ilium, if correctly attributed to the time of Antiochus I, provides for a golden equestrian statue of the king to be erected in the most distinguished place in the sanctuary of Athena, bearing an inscription which describes him as the ‘[benefactor and sa]viour of the people’. In Bargylia was a gymnastic contest in honour of king Antiochus I

¹⁴⁵ Malay and Ricl (2009), no. 1 = SEG LIX 1406 A, CGRN, no. 137, lines 56–7: καὶ ἐπαινέσαι αὐτὸν καὶ ἀξιῶσαι τὴν̣ ε̣ὔνοιαν καὶ τὴν φιλίαν διαφυλάσσειν. ¹⁴⁶ Victory at Lysimacheia earned Antigonus II the title of king of Macedonia. Some scholars think that the feat might have also earned him the title of Soter: see n. 71. ¹⁴⁷ Appian Syr. 65 (ὃς καὶ σωτὴρ ἐπεκλήθη Γαλάτας ἐκ τῆς Εὐρώπης ἐς τὴν Ἀσίαν ἐσβαλόντας, ἐξελάσας). Cf. Lucian, Zeuxis 9–11, at 11; Suda s.v. Σιμωνίδης, Μάγνης Σιπύλου, with commentary and bibliography in Ceccarelli (2008). On Antiochus I’s victory over the Galatians, see e.g. Bar-Kochva (1973); Mitchell (1993), vol. 1, 18–20; Sherwin-White and Kuhrt (1993), 32–4; Grainger (2010). But Coşkun (2011) questions the connection between the local honours (in the following note) and the ‘Elephant victory’.

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Soter.¹⁴⁸ Although these decrees make no allusion to the defeat of the Gauls, it is generally believed that the king earned the title on account of this feat, which he and/or his descendants seem to have emphasized.¹⁴⁹ Antiochus I also founded the city of Soteira in Aria, but whether this relates to his epithet and thus reflects an attempt to advertise his achievement can only be guessed.¹⁵⁰ We shall see later how Attalus I and Eumenes II also became Soter after overcoming the Gauls. After the death of Antiochus I, his title Soter was officially propagated in the Seleucid kingdom by his descendants. Gold oktadrachms and silver tetradrachms issued under the reign of Seleucus II bear the legend ΣΩΤΗΡΟΣ ΑΝΤΙΟΧΟΥ on the reverse and Antiochus I’s head on the obverse.¹⁵¹ It was probably during the reign of Antiochus III, when a dynastic cult of the Seleucid royal house was founded, that Soter was officially recognized as Antiochus I’s title.¹⁵² Royal initiative probably explains how Soter became a regular part of Antiochus I’s royal titulature used in the whole kingdom, a process comparable to that suggested for Ptolemy I Soter posthumously. The case of Antiochus I shows how a cult epithet used locally of the king could come to be formally recognized and centrally promoted by the royal house.¹⁵³ The royal cult might have in turn inspired local cults for the kings under that title. Priesthoods of Antiochus I Soter, attested after the king’s death in various parts of Asia Minor, might have been thus inspired.¹⁵⁴ Interactions and mutual influence are therefore possible between ruler cults locally established and royal cults centrally organized.

5.4.3 Antiochus III at Teos Antiochus III is usually called Megas (‘the Great’),¹⁵⁵ but was honoured as Soter locally in the Ionian city of Teos when he passed through the city in c.203 . After Teos had passed from Attalid control to Seleucid rule, Antiochus III went before ¹⁴⁸ Ilium: OGIS 219.36–8 = I.Ilion 32.36–8; its date and the identity of the king (Antiochus I or Antiochus III?) remain controversial: see Ma (2000), appendix 1, with bibliography. Bargylia: Syll.³ 426.20–2 = I.Iasos 608.20–2 (270–261 ). See also later attestations of Antiochus I under the title of Soter in other cities: CIG 3075 = SEG XLI 1002 (Teos, 268–254?); OGIS 229.100 = I.Smyrna 573.100 (Smyrna, 245 or 243?); OGIS 246.4 (provenance disputed, second century ), and texts in n. 154 below. ¹⁴⁹ e.g. Dittenberger in OGIS 426, n. 1; Mitchell (1993), vol. 1, 18; Scholten (2000), 41. ¹⁵⁰ Steph. Byz. s.v. Soteira; Ammianus Marc. 23.6.69; Ptolemy Geogr. 6.17.7; cf. App. Syr. 57, who locates it in Parthia and ascribes its foundation to Seleucus I. Cohen (2013), 40, 286. ¹⁵¹ Coins: Le Rider (1999), vol. 1, 74–5, 80–90 (on the date and mint); Houghton, Lorber, and Hoover (2002–8), Part I, vol. 1, 225–8. ¹⁵² Van Nuffelen (2004). The epigraphic evidence on the organization of a dynastic cult of the Seleucids is scanty and late (Ma (2000), nos. 4 and 37, are both under Antiochus III’s reign), leading to controversies about when precisely it was established. ¹⁵³ Cf. similarly Ptolemy I: that is, if it is correct to think that he first got the title from the Rhodians. ¹⁵⁴ Priesthood of Antiochus I Soter: I.Estremo Oriente 76 (Seleucia on the Tigris, c.209 ); OGIS 233.2, 14 (Antiochia in Persis, c.205); OGIS 245.11–12, 35–6 (Seleucia in Pieria, 187–175). ¹⁵⁵ On Antiochus III’s title Megas, see Bevan (1902a), Ma (2000), appendix 4.

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the assembly in person and made the city ‘sacred, inviolable, and free from tribute’, especially from the harsh contributions it had been paying to Attalus I, ‘so that on account of the increase of the affairs of the city, he should not only receive the title of benefactor of the people, but also that of saviour’ (lines 20–2: ἵνα γενομένης ἐπαυξήσ[ε]ως τῶν κατὰ τὴν πόλιν μὴ μόνον εὐεργεσίας λάβῃ τὴν ἐπιγραφ[ὴ]ν τῆς τοῦ δήμου, ἀλλὰ καὶ σωτηρίας).¹⁵⁶ The city’s financial hardship under the fomer reign is emphasized, and cognate words meaning ‘to release’ recur in the decree.¹⁵⁷ Compared to the other Hellenistic kings, who became Soter for warding off an(other) external power or barbarian threat, Antiochus III was the Teians’ benefactor and saviour not just for ‘liberating’ them from Attalid rule, but for releasing them in perpetuity from the financial burdens formerly imposed by the Attalids. Together with his wife Laodice, who similarly bestowed benefactions on the Teians, the royal couple were to recive cultic honours as the city’s ‘comm[on saviour]s’ (line 51: κοιν[οὶ σωτῆρε]ς). Antiochus III, we can imagine, might have been informally acclaimed as euergetes and soter by the assembled Teians on the spot or given the credit as such. However, it is unclear whether Soter was formally used of Antiochus III in Teos, and whether the word was inscribed on the cult statues of the royal couple stipulated by the present decree. Unlike for Antiochus I, the reference to Antiochus III and Laodice as ‘saviours’ probably remains local and momentary; it does not appear again in other Teian documents,¹⁵⁸ and is rarely documented outside Teos.¹⁵⁹

5.4.4 Demetrius I Soter Soon after coming to power in 162 , the Seleucid king Demetrius I—not to be confused with Demetrius I Poliorcetes among the Antigonids—was faced with unrest in Babylonia, as the satrap Timarchus had rebelled and claimed kingship in his own right. Appian explains how ‘he killed Timarchus who had rebelled and governed Babylon badly in other respects. For this reason he was called Soter, beginning with the Babylonians’.¹⁶⁰ If Appian’s statement is reliable, it would ¹⁵⁶ SEG XLI 1003 I = Ma (2000), no. 17, lines 18–22 (tr. Ma). Literally: ‘he should receive the credit not only of the benefaction of the people, but also its soteria’. On the word ἐπιγραφή here, see commentary by Herrmann (1965), 53, followed by Gauthier (1985), 51–2; cf. ἐπιγράφειν in Plut. Tim. 36.3 (on Timoleon saving Sicily from tyranny). The same benefactions are referred to in a contemporary Teian decree: SEG XLI 1003 II = Ma (2000), no. 18, lines 50–2. The date of these Teian documents is disputed: Ma (2000), appendix 2, prefers c.203  to 197/6 . ¹⁵⁷ e.g. ἀνεῖναι (line 18), ἀπολυεῖν (line 20), παραλύειν (lines 33 and 48). ¹⁵⁸ Note that the king is twice referred to as ‘King Antiochus the Great’ in the other contemporary Teian decree: SEG XLI 1003 II = Ma (2000), no. 18, lines 11 and 30. ¹⁵⁹ A possible instance outside Teos is a fragmentary dedicatory inscription in Sidon, restored to refer to Antiochus III, Laodice, and their son as ‘[theoi s]oteres kai [theoi euerget]ai’, but the text is too fragmentary for their identity to be certain: see Stucky (2005), Gr 4, followed by Bonnet (2015), 228–9. ¹⁶⁰ App. Syr. 47: ἐφ᾽ ᾧ καὶ σωτήρ, ἀρξαμένων τῶν Βαβυλωνίων, ὠνομάσθη.

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suggest that even in the middle of the second century , the title was still ‘earned’ by specific deeds and was not simply assumed (as it was by Ptolemy IX later). Appian implies that the Babylonians were not the only people to call Demetrius I Soter and that the title was subsequently used more widely. Similarly to Antiochus I Soter, Demetrius I seems to be another Seleucid king whose locally conferred epithet, here originating from Babylonia, came to be officially adopted and promoted by the royal house, but this time during the king’s lifetime rather than after death. Coins minted during the reign of Demetrius I bear the legends ΒΑΣΙΛΕΩΣ and ΔΗΜΗΤΡΙΟΥ ΣΩΤΗΡΟΣ, which may suggest that the epithet was formally assumed and promoted by the king himself.¹⁶¹ After his death, his son Antiochus VII is referred to as ‘son of king [Demetr]ius Soter Megistos’ in a marble slab dedicated to Zeus Soter from the city of Acre in Israel.¹⁶² A list of deified Seleucid kings contains a reference to ‘Demetrius Theos Soter’.¹⁶³ When Arrian says that Demetrius I was ‘also called Soter by the Syrians, the second (to bear that title) after the son of Seleucus Nicator’ (that is, Antiochus I),¹⁶⁴ he must have had in mind the official adoption of the title by the Seleucid royal house, since there are in fact various other Seleucids called Soter in particular localities as we have seen. By contrast to his predecessors who were named after either Seleucus or Antiochus, it is interesting that this Seleucid king should be given an Antigonid name,¹⁶⁵ but should adopt the epithet Soter previously held by his ancestors. Using this title could doubtless associate Demetrius I with the early Seleucids and their illustrious achievements.¹⁶⁶

5.5 The Attalids Only three Attalid kings are attested under the title of Soter, two of whom received it on account of their victory over the Gauls.¹⁶⁷ Prophesied in the oracle of

¹⁶¹ Coins: Houghton (1983), 99–100, nos. 991ff.; 115–16, nos. 1242ff.; Hoover (2007), nos. 406–7, 412, 428; Houghton, Lorber, and Hoover (2002–8), Part II, vol. 1, nos. 1627–32, 1639–43, 1649–52, 1654–7, 1660–4, 1683–92, 1703–5. ¹⁶² Landau (1961) = SEG XIX 904 (c.130/129 ); BE (1963), no. 281; Boffo (1994), no. 14 (with bibliography). ¹⁶³ OGIS 246.11 (second century ); both the provenance and the nature of the inscription remain unclear (a dedication, cult calendar, or something else?). ¹⁶⁴ App. Syr. 67: σωτὴρ καὶ ὅδε πρὸς τῶν Σύρων, δεύτερος ἐπὶ τῷ Σελεύκου τοῦ νικάτορος παιδὶ ὀνομασθείς. ¹⁶⁵ See scholarly interpretations in Bevan (1902b), vol. 2, 124–5; followed by Helliesen (1981). ¹⁶⁶ If the earlier king Antiochus IV had indeed been called ‘Saviour of Asia’ in Babylon in OGIS 253 = I.Estremo Oriente 103 (166 ), Demetrius I’s title Soter might further reflect a reaction to Antiochus IV and a wider competition or dispute between the two branches of the Seleucid dynasty, as has been suggested by Muccioli (2013), 164–5. However, the provenance of this text is dubious: see strong doubts expressed by Sherwin-White (1982), 65–6. ¹⁶⁷ Known Soteres among the Attalids: Attalus I, Euemens II, and Attalus II. On Attalus II as Soter (not discussed here), see Norwood (1917).

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Phaennis as the ‘helper’ (ἀοσσητήρ) of Asia Minor Greeks against the Gauls,¹⁶⁸ Attalus I successfully defeated the barbarians in c.230s and was recognized as ‘king’ and ‘saviour’.¹⁶⁹ In Pergamum and Heraclea near Latmus was a series of small altars and statue bases for ‘King Attalus the Saviour’, variously inscribed in the genitive, dative, or (in the case of honorific statues) accusative cases.¹⁷⁰ Those in Pergamum concentrate on the acropolis: are we to imagine that, upon his triumphant return to the capital, Attalus I was greeted by citizens who had set up altars in his honour and upon which sacrifices were performed during some celebration on the acropolis? At first sight the objects’ limited scale and humble nature may seem to suggest that these were dedicated by individuals at their own initiatives. However, by analogy with known cases in other kingdoms, it seems more probable that they were constructed in accordance with royal command.¹⁷¹ About half a century later, Attalus I’s son Eumenes II was given the same title after overcoming the Gauls. A decree from Telmessus in Lycia describes him as [βασι]λεὺς Εὐμένης ὁ σωτὴρ καὶ εὐεργέ[της ἡμ]ῶν when commending his victory over the Bithynian king Prusias I, his ally Ortiagon, and the Galatians.¹⁷² First attested in this Telmessus decree, his epithet Soter came to be widely used in the Attalid kingdom. The phrase βασιλεὺς Εὐμένης Σωτήρ, sometimes with the addition of καὶ Εὐεργέτης and (after his death) θεός, is attested in inscriptions from Pergamum, Panion in Thrace, Hierapolis, Sardis, Tralles, and another town of the Pergamene kingdom.¹⁷³ Robert noted acutely that inscriptions referring to ‘King Eumenes Soter’ come only from cities within Eumenes’ realm, whereas those referring simply to ‘King Eumenes’ come from the outside. In Pergamum were two small altars for ‘King Eumenes Soter’ and ‘King Eumenes Soter and Euergetes’, comparable to those for Attalus I Soter mentioned earlier. Particularly interesting is a private dedication in Panion, a military colony founded by Eumenes II in Thrace: there an individual set up a marble altar to Zeus Soter, ¹⁶⁸ Paus. 10.15.2–3. ¹⁶⁹ Title of ‘king’: Polyb. 18.41.7 (= Livy 33.21.3); Livy 38.16.14; Strabo 13.4.2, 624. On Attalus I’s defeat of the Gauls, see Hansen (1971), 28–38; Will (1979–82), vol. 1, 196–7; Allen (1983), ch. 5. ¹⁷⁰ Pergamum: I.Pergamon 43–5 and possibly 59 (partly supplemented); Schwarzer, AvP XV.4 S21; MDAI (A) 33 (1908), 403–4, no. 32. Heraclea near Latmus: RPhil 23 (1899), 283, nos. 5, 6 (= OGIS 289). The possible context for setting up these dedications is discussed in Jim (2017a). On the ‘grammar of honours’, see Ma (2013), 17–24, 49ff. ¹⁷¹ 1 Macc. 1:47, 1:55 (altars decreed by Antiochus IV Epiphanes); POxy. 2465 fr. 2, col. I (altars for Arsinoë II Philadelphus), with discussions in Robert (1966) and Jim (2017a), 441–2. ¹⁷² Clara Rhodos 2 (1932), 172ff., no. 3 (184 ). Eumenes’ war with Ortiagon is mentioned in Polyb. 22.21 and Trogus, Prol. 32. Ortiagon was the chief of the tribe of the Tolistoagii (or Tolistobogii) and probably fought as an ally of the Bithynian king Prusias I. Mitchell (1993), vol. 1, 25, notes that the Gauls are here placed on an equal footing with Prusias and Ortiagon, which may imply that they fought as allies rather than mercenaries. ¹⁷³ OGIS 301 (Panion), 305 (Sardis), 308 (Hierapolis), 332 (Pergamum); MDAI (A) 27 (1902), 95, nos. 86–7 (Pergamum); I.Magnesia 86.16 (an unidentified town); Dumont-Homolle, Mélanges, 407 n. 81a (Panion); Robert (1934), 279–91 = OMS II 1178–90 (Tralles). The sources are conveniently collected and discussed in Robert (1934), 284–6 = OMS II 1183–5, with addendum in Robert, Ét. anat. 73 n. 1, and in Allen (1983), appendix 4.

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Athena Nikephoros, and Apollo ‘on behalf of King Eumenes, saviour and benefactor, and founder of the city’ and members of the royal family.¹⁷⁴ As the principal divinity at Pergamum, Athena was promoted by the Attalids as their dynastic protective goddess from Attalus I on, and at some point acquired the epithet Nikephoros. Her cult was probably brought to Panion by the Attalid armies or the Attalid royal house. Back in Pergamum, Zeus frequently appeared alongside Athena Nikephoros in an abundance of dedications, but in all these cases Zeus never bore any epithet.¹⁷⁵ In this dedication in Panion, Zeus is (unusually) called Soter doubtless to commemorate soteria from the Gauls on the one hand, and to echo the newly earned title of Eumenes II on the other. By contrast to the Ptolemies and the Seleucids discussed earlier, scholars generally agree that there is little evidence of a dynastic cult for the Attalids.¹⁷⁶ However, the strikingly similar series of altars and statue bases for Attalus I and Eumenes II, their concentration in the state capital, and the epigraphic attestations of Eumenes II Soter from within his realm only, all seem to point to some royal instruction proclaiming the kings’ epithets as official and requiring their worship with altars and sacrifice under that title. Some level of state organization was probably involved, though precisely how it was regulated can only be speculated on—as for instance by some royal decree which has not survived. Whether it was conferred spontaneously by his subjects and/or assumed by the king himself, Eumenes II’s epithet recognizes his achievement as comparable to that of his father and of Philetairus, the founder of the Attalid dynasty. Even though the title is not attested for Philetairus, he already played a similar role in protecting local communities from the barbarians.¹⁷⁷ Within a few decades, therefore, members of the Seleucid and Attalid dynasties had become Soteres as a result of their Gallic victories.¹⁷⁸ At a time when the Hellenistic kings were competing for control over Asia Minor, the Gallic invasions presented for them great ideological and propaganda value: as the Greek cities could not defend themselves effectively against the Gauls but had to depend on their rulers, the kings could present themselves as ‘saviours’, ‘protectors’, and ‘guardians’ of the Greeks and their civilization from the barbarians and therefore ¹⁷⁴ OGIS 301 (Panion). Kalinka (1926), no. 87, has Ἀπόλλωνι Π[υθίωι], whereas OGIS and Seure (1900), 165, no. 8, have Ἀπόλλωνι. Robert in OMS II 1183, noted that the dedicator, Diodoros son of Arridaios, has a Macedonian patronymic. ¹⁷⁵ Precisely when Athena acquired the title Nikephoros and which military victory gave rise to it is disputed: see summary in Walbank (1957–79), vol. 1, 503. Zeus and Athena Nikephoros: e.g. I.Pergamon 33–7, 51–6, 58, 63, 65–6, 69, 214–16. ¹⁷⁶ On the cults of the Attalids, see e.g. Hansen (1971), 453–70; Fishwick (1987–), vol. I.1, 17–18; cf. Allen (1983), 145–58, who thinks that a royal cult was probably founded in the year 188 when the Attalid kingdom expanded in power and territory with the treaty of Apamea. ¹⁷⁷ Philetairus helped to defend Cyzicus (OGIS 748, with CIG 3660) and possibly Cyme (SEG L 1195) against the Gauls. ¹⁷⁸ And possibly the Antigonid dynasty also, if Antigonus II indeed became Soter for defeating the Gauls as sometimes thought: see n. 71.

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justify their right to rule. Unlike other uses of the title Soter discussed earlier, most of which refer to a king’s supposed ‘liberation’ of a city from another monarch, these rulers could claim to be the true defenders of the Greeks against a common external threat which was comparable to the Persian invasion two centuries earlier. Ironically, however, the title Soter glosses over the very fact that some of these supposed ‘champions’ or ‘protectors’ of the Greeks were also the ones who, in their constant wars against each other, had facilitated and perpetuated the Gallic threat.¹⁷⁹

5.6 Saviour Kings and Hellenistic History: Central Issues and Observations 5.6.1 A Spectrum of Human Soteres: Royal and Non-royal Figures Given how widely it was used among the kings in the Hellenistic world, it can be easy to forget that the word Soter was by no means a royal prerogative. As we saw in Chapter 1, ordinary individuals could be thus called in everyday speech, and we have met generals, tyrants, and powerful individuals in other chapters who were called Soter with or without cult.¹⁸⁰ There is therefore a long spectrum of human beings called ‘saviours’, formally or informally, for shorter or longer periods of time, with or without cultic honours, in life or after death. At one end of the spectrum are ordinary individuals informally called ‘saviour’ in momentary outbursts of gratitude, at the other end are monarchs bearing Soter as a formal title along with isotheoi timai. These various ‘saviours’ are, it needs to be emphasized, rather different in nature. As Nock reminded us, it was one thing when used to express thanks or hopes of a moment, another when accorded or assumed as a constant epithet.¹⁸¹ Situating royal ‘Saviours’ along this long string of human beings can nevertheless remind us that the word Soter does not denote a fixed category of people: it is not a status or class to which one belonged in life or after death; rather it expresses the addressee’s beneficent relations to the addresser and recognizes the practical benefit he had given and/or was expected to give. The term could potentially apply to anyone with the ability to ‘save’, if in different ways and in various senses of the word. Depending on the scale of the benefit, Soter might be used with greater or lesser formality: it could be conferred as a formal ¹⁷⁹ e.g. Polyb. 5.77–8: Attalus I was one of the kings who enlisted Galatian contingents in his army. On royal image and realities, see Hannestad (1993), Mitchell (2003), Strootman (2005). ¹⁸⁰ e.g. Diod. Sic. 11.26.6 (Gelon in Syracuse); Thuc. 5.11.1. (Brasidas in Amphipolis); Plut. Pel. 12.4 (Pelopidas and his comrades); Diod. Sic. 16.20.6 and Plut. Dion. 46.1 (Dion); Plut. Arat. 14.3, 53 (Aratus). ¹⁸¹ Nock (1951), 128–9 (721–2 in reprint).

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title along with divine honours if a supposedly major benefit was concerned. It was therefore not kingly status per se which made someone a Soter, but the performance of some major ‘saving’ function and/or the capacity to do so. Kings and individuals in positions of power often got this title as they were capable of affecting the freedom, defence, and life and death of communities and their members.

5.6.2 Royal Saving and Divine Saving The increasing use of the royal epithet Soter and the growth of cults of royal ‘saviours’ bear importantly on the motivations for the establishment of ruler cults in the Hellenistic period. The phenomenon illustrates well Habicht’s insight that ruler cults were established not as mere flattery of the Hellenistic monarchs, but on account of their actual exercise of power and major benefits conferred, here specific ‘saving’ deeds.¹⁸² Traditionally, as we saw in Chapters 2 and 3, Greek gods were given this epithet in hope and gratitude for rescue at sea, deliverance from war, release from captivity, safe return home, recovery from illness, material security, general well-being, and so on.¹⁸³ Consequently, if a king performed the same ‘saving’ functions as the gods did, he might be honoured in the same way and under the same epithet. From what we have seen, the deeds which earned Hellenistic kings this title could range from ‘liberation’ from another external power, to restoration of democracy and ancestral institutions, provision of food and other supplies, remission of taxes, defence against the Gauls, and possibly removal of their own garrisons. There are inevitably limits as to the situations in which royal saviours could act. Nevertheless, even though the kings’ spheres of influence were more limited and their methods of intervention different, the protective actions by virtue of which kings were worshipped as ‘Saviours’ overlapped partly with those of the gods. In both cases the people were dependent on the goodwill and favour of an enormous power which could do both good and evil. Whether applied to kings or gods, the epithet characterizes this relationship of dependence, and acknowledges that the ‘Saviour’ was more than human and capable of actions that could profoundly affect the well-being, security, and survival of the community. Unlike the application of Soter to some gods, which might reflect their divine nature and disposition to save mankind,¹⁸⁴ when applied to kings the epithet by no means expresses their personality or character; it only captures and commemorates their deeds in a specific historical circumstance. None of the monarchs

¹⁸² Habicht (1970), part 2. ¹⁸³ See Chapters 2 and 3. ¹⁸⁴ See Chapter 4, on how divine nature might affect the application of the epithet to gods (or the lack thereof ).

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discussed in this chapter was called ‘saviour’ because of their general policy or intrinsic tendency to ‘save’ the Greeks, but because of what they did specifically for a community, especially in the early Hellenistic period. These kings were paid cult and the cult title for what they had done and were capable of doing, not for their character or royal policy.¹⁸⁵ There is therefore a grain of truth when Plutarch says that Soter and Kallinikos were epithets given for achievement (πρᾶξις), and Euergetes and Philadelphos for excellence (ἀρετή).¹⁸⁶ What Plutarch’s categorization does not take into account, however, is that πρᾶξις and ἀρετή are too closely intertwined to be differentiated neatly, and that kings were frequently called ‘Soter and Euergetes’ simultaneously for a specific deed (rather than a particular quality). His schematization fails in particular to work for divine epithets: in the case of the gods, divine behaviour or action was closely related to divine personality and power, and the ἀρετή of the gods is sometimes cited explicitly by dedicators as the reason for honouring them as Soter.¹⁸⁷

5.6.3 Soter as a Royal Epithet: Functions, Flexibility, and Potency Seemingly a trivial and merely decorative element in ruler worship,¹⁸⁸ the epithet could in fact fulfil important functions in the complex process of interaction and negotiation between the Greeks and their kings. While acknowledging the community’s gratitude to and dependence on the kings by honouring them as Soter, the polis was not entirely powerless, but could encourage further royal benefactions by exercising some form of symbolic power over its master. When accepting the title ‘Saviour’ and other honours, the monarch was drawn into a reciprocal process of exchange and commitments that sought to oblige or constrain his royal power. Proclamation of the title in a Panhellenic setting, as in the case of Antigonus III, might serve as a public reminder of royal promises and therefore a means of exerting a level of moral pressure on the king to continue to do good.¹⁸⁹ Like reciprocal gift-giving between men and gods, the title was a means of propitiating the king and encouraging further royal favours—here specifically ‘saving’ and ‘protective’ actions—and making monarchical power less unpredictable or irrational. Nevertheless, there is no guarantee that such ‘symbolic control’

¹⁸⁵ This is much emphasized by Habicht (1970), 156–9 and followed by e.g. Fishwick (1987), I.1, 26, 39. ¹⁸⁶ Plut. Coriolanus 11.2. This passage is discussed in greater detail in Jim (2022). ¹⁸⁷ e.g. Mouterde (1931), 141–4 = SEG VII 967: a dedication to Zeus Soter and Phosphoros as ‘p[roof] of the arete of Zeus’ (Διὸς ἀρετῆς π[αράδειγμα]); IG II/III³ 4, 1443, and Ricl (2008), 569, no. 12, in which the dedicators commemorated the arete of the gods after being saved, but without calling them Soter. These three examples are discussed in Chapter 3. ¹⁸⁸ That is, compared to other elements such as monumental building, eponymous priesthoods, and sacrificial rituals. ¹⁸⁹ Polyb. 2.70.4–5, 9.36.5; cf. Ma (2000), 205–6.

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was always effective: Demetrius I is a clear case where an elaborate cult under that title failed to contain the king’s behaviour, even if we do not know whether it might have encouraged him to consider himself on a par with the gods and to behave more irrationally. Apart from the symbolic control it could potentially exercise, royal epithets might serve other, psychological functions for communities and their members. Just as the divine epithet might divert worshippers’ attention from the fearsome and harmful aspects of some divinities (such as Zeus and Poseidon, as suggested in earlier chapters), when applied to Hellenistic kings the title Soter could highlight the ruler’s benevolent and protective aspect which communities wanted to cultivate, and pass over negative elements in his makeup, thereby providing a way of coping with the often fearsome nature of royal power. In the poleis’ construction of their own histories, the language of ‘saving’ further allowed communities to selectively remember potentially disturbing political events: instead of subordination and conquest, it helped them to shift attention to their new master’s benefaction and protection.¹⁹⁰ Part of the reason why Soter was such a useful title in the Greeks’ interaction with their rulers lay in its polyvalent and malleable nature. The notion of ‘saviour’ is vague and flexible enough to allow different meanings and interpretations by different people using it. Even when applied to the same king, the word could take on varying meanings depending on context. Thus Demetrius I of Macedonia might have been the Soter of the Athenians in 307 in the sense of their ‘liberator’ from Cassander and ‘restorer’ of ancestral institutions, but subsequently his title might be much weakened to no more than an acknowledgement of his power to affect Athens’ survival and/or an incentive for him to do good. When using Soter of a king, the Greeks need not have sharply distinguished these meanings: that is, they need not have been clear in what sense(s) they were using it. It is its imprecision and fluidity which gave the word such wide currency. The title’s flexibility is further enhanced by its possible application to gods and men alike. Its dual significance captures well the ambivalent position of monarchs as between human and divine: they were and were not gods at once. Individuals could therefore see their royal Soteres as all-powerful godlike figures and/or mere mortals as they liked. In the vast and ethnically diverse Hellenistic kingdoms, attitudes could differ with regard to the kings’ divinity, as for instance between the native Egyptians and Greek settlers in Egypt or even among them. For those less inclined to believe in the divinity of their king, the epithet’s dual significance could provide a way of evading precision and avoiding seeing the king exactly as a god. Its ability to move across the divine and mortal spheres also explains why the Athenians could leave the word Soteres (sc. Antigonus I and Demetrius I)

¹⁹⁰ Ma (2000), 214–28; see also recently Thomas (2019), on memory and local history.

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untouched in some Athenian decrees in the damnatio memoriae against the Macedonians in 200 :¹⁹¹ depending on one’s political orientation and background, anyone reading the stone would be free to interpret the Soteres as referring to the Antigonids and therefore as an expression of loyalty to the Macedonians, or to Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira, who had long been the protective divinities of the Athenians. For the monarchs themselves, the epithet was no less useful. ‘Liberation of the Greeks’ was a popular slogan in the struggle for power among the Greeks at all times, and Soter was a title loaded with political ideology, which could appeal to the Greeks’ desire for soteria and eleutheria. Ptolemy II’s initiatives to promote the posthumous cult of his father under this title may reflect a wider ideological and political struggle between the Antigonids and the Ptolemies in the first half of the third century.¹⁹² Where Hellenistic kings (such as Antiochus I, Attalus I, Eumenes II) earned the epithet Soter for defeating the Gauls, both the deed and the title could help them to present themselves as the true defenders of the Greeks and create legitimacy for their rule. Very often, later kings might adopt the same epithet as their predecessor(s): the Seleucid royal line was punctuated with a Soter every few decades, as if to reactivate or renew memory of the early Seleucids’ achievements.¹⁹³ Not only could Hellenistic monarchs link themselves, via their epithet, to their predecessors of the same title and thereby gain popularity or legitimacy, they could also associate themselves with the Olympian gods, especially Zeus, the most powerful and frequent bearer of this epithet in the Greek pantheon, and enhance their ‘god-like’ image or greatness. Ptolemy I was associated in his birth myth with Zeus,¹⁹⁴ and this link could be reinforced further by sharing the same epithet as the god.

5.6.4 Local and ‘Universal’ Royal Titles It remains to explain why some kings’ title Soter was restricted to local use, whereas for others it came to be adopted much more widely across their realm and beyond.¹⁹⁵ Antigonus I and Demetrius I provide the earliest attestation of the former, whereas Ptolemy I is the earliest king bearing Soter as an official title in his kingdom. As we have seen, Ptolemy I became widely known as Soter not because of any ‘universal’ policy on his part to liberate Greece, but because of his descendant’s initiatives to adopt Soter as his official epithet and to propagate his posthumous cult under that title. Despite some efforts of Ptolemy I to champion

¹⁹¹ IG II/III³ 1, 1029, 1036. ¹⁹² See nn. 196–7. ¹⁹³ See n. 133. ¹⁹⁴ See Suda s.v. Λάγος = Ael. F 283 Domingo-Forasté; Ogden (2013). ¹⁹⁵ The distinction is discussed in Habicht (1970), 156–9, esp. 158 n. 83.

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Greek freedom,¹⁹⁶ his ‘universal’ title Soter reflects neither a broader policy pursued towards Greece nor widespread recognition of his achievement in this respect. Comparisons between the policies of Alexander’s early successors demonstrate that Antigonus I’s commitment and contribution to defending Greek freedom, whether by himself and/or via his son, was greater than that of Ptolemy I and his other counterparts. Realizing the value of goodwill of Greek cities in his attempt at a universal empire, Antigonus famously proclaimed the freedom of the Greeks at Tyre in 314, included a clause on Greek freedom in the peace settlement with other successors of Alexander in 311, sent his son on ‘liberating’ missions in Athens and the Peloponnese, and in 302 attempted to revive the Hellenic League of Philip II: all this formed part of a splendid propaganda drive intended to win over the Greeks.¹⁹⁷ As Plutarch declares, Antigonus and Demetrius fought ‘with wonderful eagerness to free all of Greece, which had been reduced to slavery by Cassander and Ptolemy’, and ‘none of the kings waged a nobler and juster war than this’.¹⁹⁸ It may therefore seem like a paradox that, despite being the most zealous defenders of Greek eleutheria and autonomia, for Antigonus and Demetrius the word Soter did not become a permanent feature of their royal image or an official title adopted more widely outside Athens. The Athenians were, as Plutarch says, ‘the only people’ to call them Soteres.¹⁹⁹ Compared to Ptolemy I, the use of the title Soter for Antigonus and Demetrius was much more restricted in time and space. This relates partly to Athens’ revolt from Demetrius and its changed relations with the king in 287, which made the continued worship of the Antigonid ‘Saviours’ inappropriate. The principal factor, however, is the lack of Antigonid initiatives to institutionalize that title unlike for their Ptolemaic counterparts and later the Seleucids. Since a centrally organized dynastic cult under that title is lacking for Antigonus I and Demetrius I, the locally conferred epithet Soter remained restricted to those communities ‘saved’ by the kings which chose to honour them under that title. The same holds true for their descendants Antigonus II, Antigonus III, and Philip V, who were honoured as Soter in certain localities and yet whose epithet had no wider validity outside these very communities. Not even the public proclamation, in a Panhellenic setting, of Antigonus III as Sparta’s soter and euergetes made his titles ‘universal’, if they lacked relevance to other Greek cities.²⁰⁰ ¹⁹⁶ Diod. Sic. 19.62.1 (proclamation in 314 in imitation of Antigonus I), 20.37.1–2 (his plan to free the Peloponnesian cities in 308), and sources in nn. 52 and 87. ¹⁹⁷ Diod. Sic. 19.61.1–4 (proclamation in 314 ), 19.74–5 (liberation of various cities in 313), 19.105.1 (peace settlement in 311); OGIS 5–6 (Antigonus’ letter and Scepsis’ response in 311), with excellent commentary in Welles, Royal Correspondence, no. 1; Diod. Sic. 20.46.5 (the Hellenic League of 302); 20.100.6 (liberation of the Chalcidians). The words eleutheria and eleutheroun recur in Plutarch’s account of Antigonus’ and Demetrius’ actions: e.g. Plut. Dem. 8.1, 8.5, 9.2, 9.5, 9.6, 15.1, 23.2, 24.5. Their policies are discussed in Simpson (1959), 390–1; Billows (1990), 197–205. Cf. Wehrli (1968), who concentrates on the limitations and negative aspects of Antigonus’ policy. ¹⁹⁸ Plut. Dem. 8.1. ¹⁹⁹ Plut. Dem. 10.3 (μόνοι δὲ σωτῆρας ἀνέγραψαν θεούς). ²⁰⁰ Polyb. 2.70.4–5, 9.36.5.

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If the epithet is used of the Antigonids only locally, and of Ptolemy I and Ptolemy IX as an official title centrally promoted and propagated in the kingdom (and in the case of Ptolemy I, probably after local use in Rhodes), its application among the Seleucids combines these two trends. Antiochus I was, as we have seen, locally called Soter in Aegae, Lemnos, and various cities in western Asia Minor before his title was formalized and officially recognized in the reign of Antiochus III, when a dynastic cult for the Seleucid royal house was founded. Less clear is the development in the Attalid dynasty: although the evidence seems to indicate spontaneous local conferrals of the title for Attalus I and Eumenes II after their respective Gallic victories, as discussed earlier the strikingly similar series of dedications to both kings and their geographical concentration may suggest a level of state organization requiring the worship of the kings under that title. The cases of the Seleucids and probably the Ptolemies demonstrate well that local uses of the title could predate and facilitate royal adoption of that title, and that its central adoption might in turn lead to its use by other localities.²⁰¹ It is therefore not simply a matter of cities imitating royal practices, nor is it just a matter of the Hellenistic dynasties adopting and formalizing pre-existing local cults. Rather mutual influence and interactions seem highly probable.²⁰²

5.6.5 Individuals and Ruler Worship: Agency and Strategies Much less visible in the evidence, but no less important in royal naming, is the role of individuals and groups. We have seen that Demetrius I was hailed first by a crowd of Athenians as euergetes and soter in 307/6 before he was formally named as Soter in the Athenian assembly.²⁰³ In some cases private practices might have operated independently of, or even preceded, civic or royal initiatives. The three individuals’ monument in honour of probably Ptolemy I and Berenice I as Theoi Soteres, if indeed dedicated during their lifetime because of the ‘saving’ attributed to them,²⁰⁴ would be an interesting case where a royal couple became ‘Saviour Gods’ to individual subjects prior to any official adoption and standardization of that title by the Ptolemaic royal house. The same can be said of the statue in honour of Ptolemy I Soter in his lifetime, by Diodotos son of Achaios as discussed earlier.²⁰⁵

²⁰¹ Other localities: e.g. the participating states in the Alexandrian Ptolemaea. ²⁰² Interactions between local and dynastic cults of the Seleucids are discussed in Sherwin-White and Kuhrt (1993), 202, 206; Ma (2000), 233–4; Van Nuffelen (2004), esp. 299–300. Cf. Bikerman (1938), 236–50, who emphasized the autonomous development of the local cults of the Seleucids independently from the dynastic cult. ²⁰³ Plut. Dem. 9.1. A similar process may apply to Antigonus III in Sparta, as postulated by Gauthier (1985), 50–2, in n. 80 above. ²⁰⁴ CPI 323; Rubensohn (1913), no. 1: see nn. 94–5. ²⁰⁵ CPI 605; OGIS 19.

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Fig. 25 Rectangular limestone slab dedicated to Ptolemy V, Cleopatra I, and the Theoi Soteres, 204–180  (CPI 584).

Not only could individual Greeks play a role in the naming of their kings, they might also adopt various strategies in expressing the different statuses of gods and deified kings. An interesting case is a rectangular limestone slab dedicated ‘to King Ptolemy (V) and Queen Cleopatra (I), Gods Manifest and Beneficent (θεοῖς Ἐπιφανέσι καὶ Εὐχαρίστοις) and to the Saviour Gods (θεοῖς Σωτῆρσι)’.²⁰⁶ Theoi Soteres are inscribed in much larger lettering in the last line than the rest of the text (see Fig. 25), as if implying the much greater significance and honour accorded to them. Although their identity is not revealed, these are in all probability the Egyptian gods (perhaps Isis and Sarapis) rather than the deceased Ptolemy I and Berenice I discussed earlier. Even more intriguing is a bilingual inscription on an altar from Lapethos in Cyprus, thought to commemorate a military victory of Ptolemy I: Ἀθηνᾶι Σωτείρᾳ Νίκῃ καὶ βασιλέως Πτολεμαίου Πραξίδημος Σέσμαος τὸν βω[μὸ]ν ἀνέθ[η]κεν ἀγα[θ]ῆι τύχηι (‘To Athena Soteira Nike and (of?) King Ptolemy, Praxidemos son of Sesmas dedicated this altar, with good fortune’).²⁰⁷ The Phoenician version of the text shows that the altar was addressed to the goddess and to king Ptolemy.²⁰⁸ Accordingly one would expect the dative case for both recipients; yet the Greek text expresses the king awkwardly in the genitive. Despite scholars’ various attempts to correct the Greek and to ²⁰⁶ CPI 584; Bowman, Crowther, and Savvopoulos (2016), no. 5 (first half of the second century ), with fig. 5. ²⁰⁷ OGIS 17. ²⁰⁸ Bianco and Bonnet (2016), no. 2.5, thus translate the Phoenician: ‘À Anat force de vie (ou des vivants) et au seigneur des rois Ptolémée, Ba‘Ishillem, fil de Sesmay, a consacré l’autel. À la Bonne Fortune!’

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explain away the genitive βασιλέως Πτολεμαίου, the beauty of this text lies in the conceptual confusion (or rather distinction?) which seems to have occurred. Instead of a slip on the part of Praxidemos (apparently a Hellenized Phoenician) or a result of his insufficient command of Greek, it might well reflect the dedicator’s reluctance (conscious or unconscious) to put the king in the same case and therefore on the same level as Athena Soteira. The altar was, as Nock noted, intended for both the goddess and the king, if in different ways.²⁰⁹ The association between the king and the goddess, and yet the different cases used of them, seem to betray a certain unease in equating the king to the Olympian gods: Ptolemy I was assimilated to but differentiated from the gods at once. The king’s distinction from the gods is also reflected in the priority given to the divine: Athena (or Anat in Phoenician) is named first and is the one who assured the protection and victory of Ptolemy I.

5.6.6 Change over Time: Greek Religion in Decline? From Antigonus I and Demetrius I down to the late Hellenistic period, the use of the epithet Soter has undergone various important changes. When used of Alexander’s early successors, Soter invariably referred to specific deeds accomplished by the kings. This is particularly true of local conferrals of the title, which in this early period always responded to the kings’ ‘saving’ action in specific historical circumstances. Yet this link already became weakened when the title was officially adopted posthumously for Ptolemy I in the royal cult, as the whole realm came to use the title regardless of whether the people had supposedly experienced the king’s ‘saving’. By the late third and early second centuries , the use of Soter had become increasingly routine: communities might have felt compelled to use a title which had become fairly common if not standard in the treatment of Hellenistic monarchs. Instead of responding to a particular ‘saving’ act performed, a community might honour a king as Soter because of his potential to do good (and harm). At the same time some monarchs begin to assume the title without evidence of associated ‘saving’ deeds. Ptolemy IX Soter II is an identifiable example of a monarch assuming the epithet when he came to the throne in 116 .²¹⁰ Originally contingent on the performance of specific protective functions, the use of Soter later became increasingly common so that kingly status per se and the potential to save—rather than the actual exercise of that power—became a sufficient reason for granting or assuming that title, and the epithet came to form

²⁰⁹ Nock (1930b), 51 (242 in reprint). ²¹⁰ Ptolemy IX Soter: see nn. 118–20. Another possible example is Demetrius III among the Seleucids: life-time issues of coins bearing the epithet Soter are attested for Demetrius III: Houghton, Lorber, and Hoover (2008), Part II, vol. 1, 583, 587–94, nos. 2445–6, 2450–7.

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part of the vocabulary of kingship. It may therefore not always be safe to infer specific ‘saving’ actions from a king’s epithet Soter, especially in the later Hellenistic period. This is also why I intend to pass over later examples and those in the minor dynasties of which we know little. The heaping up of royal epithets, common from the second century on, may imitate the use of multiple epithets for the gods on the one hand and reflect the ‘depreciation’ in value of royal epithets on the other. As an increasing number of kings were called Soter, the royal epithet came to lose its original significance and value, and some kings began to be honoured with more than one epithet.²¹¹ Despite this proliferation of Hellenistic monarchs called Soter, these royal ‘Saviours’ by no means replaced or diminished the importance of their divine counterparts, but might even have facilitated in turn the growth of cults of divine saviours and the use of the epithet in the Greek pantheon. We have seen that the cult of Zeus Soter and Athena Soteira grew in importance (if it did not first emerge) in Rhamnus when Antigonus II ceased to be worship as Soter in Athens, as if the Athenians were reaffirming the importance of the traditional gods as ‘Saviours’.²¹² It was not only communities which continued to honour the Olympian gods, the kings themselves also saw no conflict in paying worship to these divinities as ‘saviours’, and indeed needed their blessing just the same. Seleucus I, praying for the soteria of the royal family and for the city, sent a series of lavish dedications to the temple of Apollo at Didyma, including items addressed to the Theoi Soteres, Zeus Soter, and an unnamed Soteira.²¹³ Even when honoured with the same title of Soter and isotheoi timai as those of the gods, these kings were integrated into the existing cultic structure of the cities rather than replacing the traditional gods. At Aegae, the new cult of Seleucus I and Antiochus I as Soteres was juxtaposed with that of Zeus Soter and (Athena?) Soteira.²¹⁴ If the cults of Zeus Soter and (Athena?) Soteira in Aegae predated the cult of the Seleucid Soteres, there are other interesting cases where the gods seem to have newly acquired the epithet on account of royal recognition. As we saw in the last chapter, Asclepius became widely known as Soter only from the later Hellenistic period onwards probably because of the initiatives by the Attalid royal house to honour him as such.²¹⁵ Isis and Sarapis seem to have been jointly recognized as Theoi ²¹¹ CPI 379 = OGIS 89 (Ptolemy IV: Theos Megalos, Philopator, Soter, and Nikephoros); OGIS 301 (Eumenes II: Soter, Euergetes, and Ktistes of the polis); I.Estremo Oriente 103 (Antiochus IV: Theos Epiphanes, Soter of Asia and Ktis[tes, and Euergetes] of the polis). ²¹² I.Rhamnous, nos. 22, 26, 31, 146, 148–53. ²¹³ I.Didyma 424 = OGIS 214 (288/7 ), lines 14–15 (Theoi Soteres), 43 (Zeus Soter), 45 (Theoi Soteres), 48 (Soteira). See also lines 19–20: ὑγιαινόντων ἡμῶν καὶ εὐτυχούν τῶν καὶ τῆς πόλεως διαμενούσης σώας ὡς ἐγὼ βούλομαι καὶ ὑμεῖς (εὔ)χεσθε. ²¹⁴ Malay and Ricl (2009), no. 1 = SEG LIX 1406 A, CGRN, no. 137 (Aegae). See also SEG XLI 1003 I = Ma (2000), no. 17 (Teos): the cult-images of Antiochus III and his wife were placed by the statue of Dionysus (not called Soter). Paul (2016a) discusses these and other mechanisms of integrating the kings into the existing religious landscape. ²¹⁵ Wörrle (2000), 561–2 and discussion in Chapter 4.

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Soteres for intervening in favour of Ptolemy IV in the battle of Raphia in 217 .²¹⁶ It is easy to assume that the epithet spread from the gods to the kings, whereas the epithet’s movement in the other direction is often overlooked. Despite the ithyphallic hymn’s famous claim that kings were more accessible than the traditional gods, what we see instead is the continued growth of cults of divine saviours in Hellenistic Greece, which reflects in part the great importance of soteria amid the political instabilities and uncertainties of this period. So common did the title become that, in the Hellenistic period and beyond, human beings other than monarchs could also be honoured as soter (often with the addition of euergetes). After a century and a half ’s influence in Greece, the Macedonians were perceived as a threat to Greek autonomy and freedom, and were finally defeated by the Romans in the Second Macedonian War (200–196 ). In the Isthmian Games of 196 , the Roman general Flamininus famously proclaimed the freedom of the Greeks, whereupon ‘all were eager to spring forward and to greet and hail him as the saviour and champion of Greece’.²¹⁷ After this flurry of public excitement, various Greek cities independently honoured him as ‘saviour’ in a more substantial and permanent manner.²¹⁸ Flamininus was only one example among many human beings called ‘saviour’, with or without cultic honours, though perhaps the one most spectacularly treated after the Hellenistic kings. Towards the end of the first century , Callimachos, the governor of Thebes in Egypt, was to be called ‘saviour of the city’ for ‘having nourished and saved everyone’ (διαθρέψας καὶ σώσας πάντας) when the city was struck by famine.²¹⁹ In Aphrodisias an individual, whose name is not preserved, is honoured as σωτῆρ καὶ εὐεργέτης for having guarded (διαφυλάξαι) the forts and saved his fatherland from many great dangers (ἐκ πολλῶν καὶ μεγάλων κιṿδύνων σεσωκότα τὴν πατρ[ί]δα).²²⁰ Among the Romans, the Emperors were the most frequent bearers of the title, but Roman officials and governors could also be called ‘saviours’, as attested in an abundance of epigraphic examples.²²¹ It is nevertheless deceptive to think of a neat and linear movement of the word from the traditional

²¹⁶ Bricault (1999), with documents in the appendix; see also Savvopoulos (2020), 87–8. ²¹⁷ Plut. Flam. 10.5: ἔσπευδον δὲ πάντες ἀναπηδῆσαι καὶ δεξιώσασθαι καὶ προσειπεῖν τὸν σωτῆρα τῆς Ἑλλάδος καὶ πρόμαχον. See similarly Poly. 18.46.12: some wanted to call him Soter (σωτῆρα προσφωνῆσαι βουλόμενοι) and others threw crowns and fillets on him. ²¹⁸ Plut. Flam. 16.4 (Chalcis), Syll.³ 592 (Gytheum, 195 ), Livy 34.50.9 (Acrocorinth, 194 ). ²¹⁹ OGIS 194, I.Prose 46 (39 ). ²²⁰ I.Aphrodisias 2007, 12.701. For other examples of non-royal ‘saviours’, see e.g. I.Délos 1723 (c.100 ): a banker is described as soter and euergetes in a private dedication to Zeus Kunthios and Athena Kunthia; IG IX.1² 1233 (date unclear): the island of Leucas crowns someone (named not preserved) as its ‘perpetual saviour’ (ὁ ἀεὶ σωτῆ[ρ]); TAM V.1 535 (date?): a prophetess who served as the mouthpiece of Zeus is described as the dedicator’s soteira in a private dedication. ²²¹ IG VII 264 = I.Oropos 442 (Sulla in Oropus, 86–81 ); SEG LX 941 (Q. Lutatius Catulus in Maroneia, c.80 ); I.Pergamon 410 (Lucius Antonius, 49 ); Herrmann–Malay, Lydia, no. 68 (an Asiarch, first century ); I.Ankyra 198–9 (a Roman governor,  177); Malay, Lydia Mysia Aiolis, no. 131 (a proconsul,  188/9). More examples in Roman times are collected in Nock (1951), 138 ff. (727ff. in reprint), Erkelenz (2002).

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gods to Hellenistic kings and then to non-royal human beings, as soter is applicable to men and gods alike in any period of Greek history. Its direction of movement can therefore be a matter of perspective depending on which group we focus upon. That an abundance of human beings other than monarchs could be called Soter should not surprise us: whether a god or king or ordinary citizen, the identity of the ‘saviour’ did not matter as long as he could ‘save’. Instead of being a new phenomenon that further devalues traditional religion, what we see here is a continuation of the connection between major ‘saving’ deeds and honour that was deeply rooted in Greek culture, a connection that can be traced at least as far back as Gelon at Syracuse. The underlying need for soteria, and the practice of honouring one’s ‘saviour’ (human or divine) for soteria received, reflect key Greek values that predated the Hellenistic period and continued after it.

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6 Soteria in Ancient Greece and Early Christianity In about the late 40s , Paul arrived in the Macedonian city of Thessalonica, then part of a Roman province, bearing the message of the Christian faith. As the main Macedonian port on the Thermaic Gulf, Thessalonica was bustling with a cosmopolitan mix of populations and offered a variety of religious options—the cults of the traditional Olympian gods still flourished, as did the ones of Isis, Osiris, and Sarapis, and the more recent worship of Roman emperors. To worshippers of these pagan gods, Paul brought a message of salvation which was markedly different from the customary sense of soteria in Greek religion. As we learn from his first letter to the Thessalonians, he exhorted them to put on ‘the hope of salvation’ (ἐλπίς σωτηρίας) as a helmet, for ‘God has destined us not for wrath but for obtaining salvation (εἰς περιποίησιν σωτηρίας) through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us’.¹ While the word soteria must have been familiar, what would have struck his audience was the Christian idea of redemption from sins, deliverance from divine wrath and other consequences hereafter, and admission into eternal life. Paul emphasized that this salvation could only be attained through the death of God’s son, whom Paul elsewhere called Soter.² Written after his departure from Thessalonica ( c.50–1), this letter is now widely accepted as the earliest book of the New Testament, and the verse just cited represents the earliest preserved Christian use of soteria.³ In this, as in other letters he wrote before his death (by the mid-60s ),⁴ Paul used sozein and soteria invariably in an eschatological sense to refer to deliverance from sins and death, and admission to eternal bliss through the mediation of Jesus.⁵ Paul was adopting the familiar Greek words and attributing to them connotations alien to them in ancient Greek. This chapter moves beyond Classical and Hellenistic Greece to compare ancient Greek and early Christian uses of Soter and soteria: it asks where the Christian notion of soteria came from, how these terms were used and with what ¹ 1 Thess. 5:8–10 (quotation). On the background to this letter, see Mitchell (2003). ² Phil. 3:20; Eph. 5:23. ³ On Pauline chronology, see Becker (1993), 31, Brown (1997), 428. ⁴ The Pauline epistles are usually taken to include Romans, 1 and 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians (?), Philippians, Colossians (?), 1 Thessalonians, 2 Thessalonians (?), and Philemon. A question mark in parenthesis indicates those where Paul’s authorship is disputed. ⁵ See Bachmann and Slaby (1980), 1760–2, s.v. σώζω, 1766–8, s.v. σωτήρ, σωτηρία, σωτήριον.

Saviour Gods and Soteria in Ancient Greece. Theodora Suk Fong Jim, Oxford University Press. © Theodora Suk Fong Jim 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192894113.003.0007

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significance in Christianity, and the extent to which they differed from or overlapped with the ancient Greek uses which we have seen throughout this study. Whereas the analysis of cult epithets in Greek religion is a relatively recent development, the names of God and Jesus have been the focus of intense interest by biblical scholars, some of whom see their names as a key to revealing the underlying theological conceptions associated with the titles.⁶ This chapter builds on existing scholarship in Biblical Studies, but goes beyond it to consider developments in both Greek antiquity and early Christianity, and their mutual influence or interactions (if any). Amid the myriad Christian writings, its focus is on the New Testament in its current form,⁷ and on explicit uses of soter, soteria, and cognate words rather than the presence of the associated idea, which is ubiquitous in Christian writing.⁸ Before we move on to biblical applications of the words, we shall look first at Greek mystery cults, which are sometimes said to have provided precedents for eschatological uses of soteria found later in Christianity.

6.1 Ancient Precedents? Soteria and Greek Mystery Cults When identifying possible influences on the use of soter and soteria in Christianity, biblical scholars have often looked to mystery cults in the GraecoRoman world for parallels.⁹ As early as the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, some scholars emphasized ancient precedents for Christian ideas in an attempt to undermine the position of the Roman Catholic Church, whereas others stressed the ultimate triumph of Christianity despite similar promises in paganism.¹⁰ Whatever the agenda of biblical scholars, the majority of existing treatments are preoccupied with the apparent similarities between ‘salvation’ in the two religious cultures, whereas their startling differences have too often been overlooked. Greek mystery cults, it used to be said, were ‘religions of salvation’ (Erlösungsreligionen) already expressing the same spiritual concern for individual ⁶ Names of God: e.g. Parke-Taylor (1975), Viganò (1976), Mettinger (1988). Names of Jesus: e.g. Taylor (1953), Hahn (1963), Sabourin (1963), Karrer (1991), Böttrich (2000), and especially Jung (2002) and Karrer (2002). ⁷ The Greek follows that of Rahlfs (1935) for the Septuagint, and Nestle and Aland (2012) for the New Testament. The English translation cited here, for both the Old and New Testaments, is that of the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) unless otherwise indicated, but I have anglicized the spelling ‘savior’ into ‘saviour’ as in the anglicized edition of the NRSV (1995). ⁸ It is beyond the scope of this chapter to provide a detailed exegesis of all biblical passages in which these terms appear. For close analyses of the theological contents of soteria in different biblical authors or books, see e.g. Jantsch (2017) on Luke; du Toit (2019) on Mark; Hoegen-Rohls (2019) on John; and other useful chapters in du Toit, Gerber, and Zimmermann (2019). ⁹ Some early works are e.g. Anrich (1894), Cumont (1929), Macchioro (1930), Lagrange (1937). The influence of ancient Mysteries on early Christianity has been much debated: see Smith (1990), Graf and Johnston (2013), 58–61, Bremmer (2014), x–xi, ch. 6. ¹⁰ e.g. Loisy (1914), Angus (1925). Note that Loisy was a Roman Catholic but was later excommunicated by the Church.

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salvation that was later expressed in Christianity. According to these scholars, the gods of Mysteries were often called Soter, and the main purpose of initiation was to attain soteria after death. This was achieved by sharing the experience of the divine ‘saviour’—especially Dionysus, Osiris, and Attis—who had himself died but risen again. Influential as they have been on early interpretations of ancient mystery cults,¹¹ these notions are not borne out in the ancient sources, and they have been criticized by Burkert in Ancient Mystery Cults (1987), who argued against the other-worldly character of Greek Mysteries and the universality of the ‘dying and rising god’.¹² A close semantic analysis of the sources reveals that the gods of Greek Mysteries were in fact rarely called Soter.¹³ There were, it is true, various Greek mystery cults which concerned the hereafter, but Demeter and Kore in the well-known Eleusinian Mysteries are never attested under the title of Soteira; Dionysus released (ἔλυσε) his initiates from ancestral guilt in his capacity as Lysios or Lyseus (‘Releaser’), not Soter; and Isis is rarely attested as Soteira in her Mysteries. Hecate had a mystery cult on Aegina, but whether or not it had an eschatological dimension as recently suggested, the goddess is not attested under the epithet Soteira on the island. The only mystery cult presided over without doubt by a divine ‘saviour’ is that of Kore Soteira in Cyzicus in the imperial period, but as we saw in the previous chapters, little is known about the nature of her Mysteries, and there is no evidence that the benefit was eschatological.¹⁴ Even more striking is the near-absence of the language of soteria for referring to a blessed afterlife.¹⁵ Despite the eschatological dimension of many mystery cults just mentioned, their post-mortem benefits were always expressed in terms other than soteria, and there was no consistent language with which to express the idea of a blessed afterlife in ancient Greek. Thus Eleusinian initiates were ‘blessed’ (ὄλβιοι), ‘thrice-happy’ (τρισόλβιοι), or had ‘sweeter hopes about death’ (ἡδίους τὰς ἐλπίδας ἔχουσιν περὶ τελευτῆς);¹⁶ Dionysiac initiates were made ‘pure’

¹¹ e.g. Reitzenstein (1910); Dornseiff (1929), s.v. Soter, 1216–17; Gardner (1919), 81; Halliday (1925), 240–4; Willoughby (1929), 20–1, 227–8; Tarn (1952), 353–4. ¹² Burkert (1987). However, Burkert has been criticized for downplaying the spiritual and otherworldly aspect of Mysteries by e.g. Brenk (1989), Bianchi (1995). ¹³ I here summarize the findings in Jim (2017b). ¹⁴ Dionysus’ epithet Lyseus is explained in an Orphic fragment, OF 350. Isis is sospitatrix in Apul. Met. 11.9, 15, 25, but the first two instances have no connection to Mysteries, whereas the last is used in a predominantly this-worldly sense. Hecate on Aegina: Polinskaya (2013), 290–6, argues against the traditional interpretation that this cult could cure madness. Kore at Cyzicus: Barth and Stauber (1996), IMT, no. 1445 = Reinach (1890), 537–8, no. 2 (μεγάλα μ[υ]στήρια τῆς Σωτήρας Κόρης), and other references in Chapter 2 n. 140. ¹⁵ Near-absence: the only exception to the best of my knowledge is in one of Plato’s eschatological myths, Pl. Phd. 107c–d, where soteria refers to escape from evils awaiting the unjust in the underworld. Discussed in Jim (2017b), 266–9. ¹⁶ ‘Blessed’: Hymn. Hom. Cer. 480–4; Pind. fr. 131a, 137. ‘Thrice-happy’: Soph. fr. 837 Radt. ‘Sweeter hopes’: Aristid. Or. 4.28–9 Keil.

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(καθαροί) and granted ‘release’ (λύσις) from their ancestral guilt by Dionysus.¹⁷ Apuleius in his Metamorphoses uses the abstract noun salus, the adjective salutaris of Lucius, and the agent noun sospitatrix (‘saviouress’) of Isis, but the deliverance referred to is in this world rather than the next, and we must be cautious about projecting eschatological connotations onto these words.¹⁸ Unlike in Christianity, the ancient Greeks did not have a specific abstract noun to denote post-mortem felicity, even though the idea already existed among them. If the gods of ancient Mysteries could confer soteria on their initiates, it was soteria in the here-and-now. The language is frequently used in the cult of the Great Gods at Samothrace in reference to protection from perils at sea. Orpheus, an initiate in the Samothracian Mysteries, twice saved the Argo in a great storm by praying to the Samothracian gods for soteria, meaning deliverance from the storm and physical survival.¹⁹ Outside specific crises, initiates and non-initiates alike could pray and sacrifice to the gods of Mysteries, as they could to any other gods, for protection on earth. Attic inscriptions attest to sacrifices to the Eleusinian goddesses ‘for the health and safety’ (ἐϕ᾽ ὑγιείαι καὶ σωτηρίαι) of the Athenians.²⁰ In central Thrace, a priest of Dionysus set up two altars to the god, one for the soteria of himself and his children, and another for his children and ‘his initiates, whom, blessed Dionysus, save (σῶζε)’.²¹ Such prayers and dedications completely accord with religious convention, which we have seen throughout this study, to pray to the gods in hope and/or gratitude for physical ‘protection’ or general ‘wellbeing’. In none of these uses do soteria or its cognates carry any hint of anticipation of post-mortem benefits. It thus becomes clear that soteria for the ancient Greeks—even in the context of ancient Mysteries—always had a this-worldly sense, and not the eschatological connotation which the English word ‘salvation’ has in Christianity or in the modern day. Although the idea of post-mortem felicity already existed among the Greeks, this was neither an aspect of the Greek concept of soteria, nor was it the exclusive concern of ancient mystery cults, which varied in nature and emphases depending on the cult concerned. As Burkert reminded us, concentration on these cults’ eschatological aspects may obscure more practical concerns they also served in this world. In antiquity most of the Greeks were probably more concerned about their immediate well-being than a better lot in the hereafter.²² The character of ancient Mysteries is still very different from Christianity, which,

¹⁷ Graf and Johnston (2013), nos. 5–7, 9, 26; OF 350. ¹⁸ Apul. Met. 11.1 (salus), 5 (salutaris), 12 (salus), 21 (salus). Sospitatrix: Apul. Met. 11.9, 15, 25. ¹⁹ Diod. Sic. 4.43.1–2, 4.48.5–7. ²⁰ I.Eleusis 181, 202, 229 = IG II/III³ 1, 915, 1188, IG II/III² 949; IG II/III³ 1, 1372. ²¹ IGBulg III 1864 (ὑπὲρ ἑαυτοῦ καὶ τῶν πέ[δ]ων (sic) μου συνμύστων περὶ σωτηρίας), 1865 (μυστῶν ἰδίων, οὓς σῶζε, μάκαρ Διόνυσε). ²² Lane Fox (1986), Burkert (1987).

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as we shall see shortly, is explicitly and primarily concerned with the destiny of the soul.

6.2 Jewish Precedents Instead of ancient mystery cults, some scholars see the Septuagint, the Greek version of the Hebrew Bible intended for the Hellenized Jewish communities,²³ as the most likely antecedent for early Christian uses of Soter and soteria.²⁴ Both words appear in the Septuagint many times, but the translation between the relevant Hebrew and Greek expressions is far from consistent or regular. Soter, soteria, and their cognates most frequently render the Hebrew root yšc, which means ‘width’, ‘spaciousness’, and hence ‘lack or removal of restraint’; yet the same Hebrew form is also rendered by other, related words such as διασῴζω, βοηθέω, ῥύομαι, and ἐξαιρέω.²⁵ At the same time soter and its cognates can translate a variety of other Hebrew roots, such as mlt: ‘to deliver’, nšl ‘to rescue’, plt: ‘to escape’, šrd ‘to survive’, hyh : ‘to keep alive’, and ‘zr ‘to help’.²⁶ Hebrew has a rich variety of words in the domain of ‘deliver’, ‘rescue’, and ‘save’, and translators of the Hebrew Scriptures could choose among different Greek words as they saw fit. As in English, then, Hebrew had no single equivalent which could encompass all these meanings, and in the Greek rendering of the Hebrew Bible, the wordgroup soter/soteria/sozein fused together subtle nuances of escape, deliverance, and protection expressed in different Hebrew roots. The Septuagint uses Soter predominantly of Yahweh and occasionally of human beings, including the judges of Israel and other individuals who brought deliverance in specific military crises.²⁷ Instead of judicial personnel in the modern sense of the word, these ‘judges’ were rulers of Israel in the pre-monarchic period with a significant military role. Their deeds are recounted in the book of Judges following a recurrent pattern: the people of Israel sinned against Yahweh, who then sold them into the hand of oppressors, but when the people cried out, Yahweh sent them a deliverer. The word soter is explicitly used of the first two of

²³ On the complications of what constitutes the Septuagint and its use by the Jews and Christians, see Rajak (2009). ²⁴ e.g. Nock (1928), esp. 92–3 (80–1 in reprint); Hill (1967), 15–17. ²⁵ Brown, Driver, and Briggs (1953), Hatch and Redpath (1975), Klein (1987), Muraoka (1998). ²⁶ Siedl (1970), 807–8; Foerster and Fohrer (1971), 1012–13; Barr (1973), esp. 42–4; Oxtoby (1973), 20; Lee (2018), 110–14. ²⁷ Judges: Judg. 3:9, 3:15; see also Neh. 9:27. Other human beings: (1) Judg. 12:3, referring to the men of the tribe Ephraim, who ‘would not deliver’ (Codex Alexandrinus has οὐκ ἦν ὁ σῴζων, whereas Codex Vaticanus has οὐκ εἶ σωτήρ) Jephthah from the hands of the Ammonites when called upon. (2) The deuterocanonical portions of the Book of Esther, in Addition E chapter 16:13, have King Artaxerxes refer to Mordecai as ‘our saviour and perpetual benefactor’ (τό τε ἡμέτερος σωτὴρ καὶ διὰ παντὸς εὐεργέτης) (the text is not recognized as part of the Hebrew canon and is thus not in Rahlfs (1935), but can be found in Hanhart (1966) and in the NRSV Old Testament).

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these judges,²⁸ whereas several others are said to have similarly ‘saved’ Israel from oppression using the verb sozein.²⁹ Compared to Hellenistic kings called Soteres in the previous chapter, these judges are soteres not by virtue of achievements of their own, but because they were entrusted with performing a saving task delegated to them by the true Saviour. The first of these figures, Othniel, became Israel’s judge when ‘the spirit of the Lord came upon him’.³⁰ These judges did not earn the description soter after saving the people, but were already designated as such before they carried out the task. It was a temporary functional description signifying their role in God’s longer-term plan to save Israel rather than a formal or honorific title, and they certainly did not receive cult as the Hellenistic kings did. But like the ‘saviour’ kings we have met, these judges ‘saved’ by defending or delivering their people from specific crises in this world, especially political and military ones, and had no spiritual or eschatological function.³¹ Later on, in the monarchic period, several kings of Israel are said to have saved or brought soteria to the Israelites in much the same way as the judges did earlier, but are not explicitly described as soteres.³² The application of soter to human agents in the Septuagint should not obscure the fact that Yahweh himself was the ultimate source of ‘salvation’, and that these individuals were but instruments of God. As the Book of Judges puts it, ‘Whenever the Lord raised up judges for them [the Israelites], the Lord was with the judge, and he delivered them (καὶ ἔσωσεν αὐτούς) from the hand of their enemies all the days of the judge’.³³ Samuel, the last of these judges, took Israel’s desire for a king as a rejection of ‘your God, who saves you from all your calamities and your distresses’ (ὁ θεός, ὃς αὐτός ἐστιν ὑμῶν σωτὴρ ἐκ πάντων τῶν κακῶν ὑμῶν καὶ θλίψεων ὑμῶν), literally meaning in Greek, ‘God, who himself is your saviour’.³⁴ By contrast to the New Testament, where soteria predominantly concerns individual destiny in the hereafter as we shall see shortly, in the Septuagint Yahweh’s saving work applies primarily to the people of Israel as a whole, and less often to individuals. The nature of soteria in the Septuagint was overwhelmingly physical, pertaining to this life rather than the next. The vast majority of occurrences are military in nature: soteria could mean military assistance, release from captivity, escape from enemies, liberation from oppression or foreign ²⁸ Judg. 3:9 (Othniel), 3:15 (Ethud). ²⁹ e.g. Judg. 3:31 (Shamgar), 6:14–15, 6:36–7, 8:22 (Gideon), 10:1 (Tola). ³⁰ Judg. 3:10. ³¹ I owe some of these observations to Jung (2002), 230–8. ³² 2 Kings 13:5 and 14:27 use the Hebrew root ‫שע‬ ַׁ ‫ ָי‬to refer to God’s deliverance of the Israelites from their enemies via a king he sent, and it is rendered as σωτηρία and ἔσωσεν respectively in the Septuagint. The agent noun Soter is not explicitly used of the kings in the Greek version, even though 2 Kings 13:5 (καὶ ἔδωκεν κύριος σωτηρίαν τῷ Ισραηλ) is translated into English as ‘therefore the Lord gave Israel a saviour’ in NRSV and similarly in many other versions. ³³ Judg. 2:18. See also Neh. 9:27: ‘you gave them saviours who saved them from the hands of their enemies’ (ἔδωκας αὐτοῖς σωτῆρας καὶ ἔσωσας αὐτοὺς ἐκ χειρὸς θλιβόντων αὐτούς), literally ‘you gave them saviours, and you saved them’. ³⁴ 1 Sam. 10:19.

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domination, physical survival, and military victory.³⁵ It could also signify safe return, safety, and deliverance from other earthly afflictions.³⁶ As in ancient Greece, the deliverance thus attained was short-lived and had to be constantly renewed, as the Israelites sinned repeatedly and were abandoned by Yahweh to their enemies, only to be rescued by himself or his agents yet again. In the Septuagint Yahweh’s repeated interventions for the Israelites thus constituted a continuous process of ‘saving’, which was different in nature from the eternal and everlasting salvation which would come in future. Eschatological nuances of soteria are rare in the Septuagint, and concentrate in the book of Isaiah, who prophesied that on the day of the Lord the people will ‘rejoice in his salvation’ (25:9: εὐϕρανθησόμεθα ἐπὶ τῇ σωτηρίᾳ ἡμῶν), that ‘Israel is saved by the Lord with everlasting salvation’ (45:17: Ισραηλ σῴζεται ὑπὸ κυρίου σωτηρίαν αἰώνιον), and that ‘all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God’ (52:10: ὄψονται πάντα τὰ ἄκρα τῆς γῆς τὴν σωτηρίαν τὴν παρὰ τοῦ θεοῦ).³⁷ Even though a deeper, spiritual meaning may be detected, soteria in these verses is not entirely detached from the Israelites’ welfare on earth, namely the restoration of Israel to its land and the eventual liberation of its people from oppression. It is not in the Septuagint, but the New Testament, that eschatological uses of soteria became a lot more common and prominent.

6.3 Biblical Uses of Soter and Soteria Soteria for Paul, as we saw at the beginning of this chapter, is primarily eschatological; yet Pauline usage by no means represents its only meaning in Christianity. Even in the New Testament, soteria and sozein have a wide range of meanings, and the emphases vary in different parts of it. By contrast to the Pauline epistles, ‘saving’ in the synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) and the Acts of the Apostles carries a strong physical component. In these books the verb sozein is often used to signify physical preservation and deliverance from perils in the present life.³⁸ Sozein frequently features in miracles performed by Jesus: when he calms storms at sea, restores sight to the blind, heals other diseases, expels demons from the possessed, or revives the dead.³⁹ His miraculous healing reminds us ³⁵ Military assistance: 2 Sam. 10:11 = 1 Chr. 19:12; Ps. 60:11. Captivity: 1 Sam. 11:9. Escape from enemies: 2 Sam. 15:14. Oppression: 2 Chr. 12:7. Survival: Ezra 9:8, 9:13. Victory: Judg. 15:18; 1 Sam. 19:5; 2 Sam. 19:2, 23:10; 2 Kings 13:17; 1 Chr. 11:14; 2 Chr. 20:17; Ps. 18:50, 144:10. ³⁶ Safe return: Gen. 28:21. Safety: Job 5:4; Ps. 12:5. Other afflictions: Ps. 69:29. ³⁷ Isa. 25:9, 45:17, 52:10. Also relevant are Isa. 43:11–12, 45:20–2 (discussed in Chapter 6.5 below), though the words used are sozein and soter, not soteria. ³⁸ Physical survival: Mt. 24:22; Mk. 13:20. ³⁹ Seafaring: Mt. 8:25; Acts 27:31. Crossing water: Mt. 14:30. Eyesight: Mk. 10:52; Lk. 18:42. Other diseases: Mt. 9:21–2; Mk. 3:4, 5:23, 5:28, 5:34, 6:56; Acts 4:9. Demonic possession: Lk. 8:36. Revival from death: Lk. 8:50. When Jesus tells the woman suffering from haemorrhage that ‘your pistis has saved you’ (ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε) in Mt. 9:22, Mk. 5:34, and Lk. 8:48, it is disputed whether sozein concerns

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vividly of that effected by Asclepius as recorded in the Epidaurian iamata, and some scholars have seen a close association between the healing performed by Jesus and that in Graeco-Roman culture.⁴⁰ Compared to the verb sozein, the abstract noun soteria is used predominantly, but not exclusively, in the eschatological sense in the New Testament.⁴¹ However, the earthly sense of soteria continues to be found, as in the Gospel of Luke, where Zechariah prophesied that God would save the people of Judea ‘from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us’ (σωτηρία ἐξ ἐχθρῶν ἡμῶν καὶ ἐκ χειρὸς πάντων τῶν μισούντων ἡμᾶς).⁴² Soteria here signifies physical deliverance from (the potential harms of ) enemies, whereas in another book, it refers to the preservation of physical well-being. While Paul is sailing for Rome, he urges members of his crew, who have not eaten for fourteen days, to take food ‘for it will help you survive’ (τοῦτο γὰρ πρὸς τῆς ὑμετέρας σωτηρίας ὑπάρχει).⁴³ Both verses use soteria in much the same way it was used by the ancient Greeks. Sometimes the word may have two layers of meaning, both physical and eschatological. When Noah built an ark ‘to save his household’ (εἰς σωτηρίαν τοῦ οἴκου αὐτοῦ), the word soteria seems to denote not just safety from the flood but also deliverance from the wrath of God and his punishment of mankind.⁴⁴ Despite an overall shift in focus from soteria primarily in this world to soteria predominantly in the next from the Old Testament to the New, therefore, across the writing of the New Testament itself, there is no neat movement from physical to spiritual saving from its earlier to the later books. Instead, Jesus’ saving work oscillates between the physical and the spiritual. The two aspects of soteria are complementary to each other, yet the ultimate concern of Christianity rests with the latter, as encapsulated in a much-cited saying by Jesus: ‘for those who want to save (σῶσαι) their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save (σώσει) it’.⁴⁵ Despite the continuities between pagan and Christian uses of the word soteria, a central difference should be emphasized. Christianity offered not simply physical protection, safety, and escape from earthly perils, but redemption from sins, deliverance from their consequences hereafter, and admission into eternal life. Where Soter and its cognates are qualified with other attributes, we find Jesus saving the soul (ψυχή) of his followers and sinners from their sins, from God’s

physical healing (e.g. Hagner (1993), 249; Davies and Allison (1988–97), vol. 2, 130) or signifies something broader, namely, salvation by faith and deliverance from sins (e.g. Gundry (1982), 174; Luz (2001), 42; Schröter (2019), 134). Bosenius (2019) stresses its ambiguity. ⁴⁰ Epidaurian iamata: IG IV².1 121–3. Healing in Christian and pagan traditions: e.g. Theissen (1983), esp. 265–76; Schröter (2019). ⁴¹ Contra Foerster and Fohrer (1971), 1002, according to whom soteria in the New Testament is not used in an earthly sense. ⁴² Lk. 1:71. ⁴³ Acts 27:34. ⁴⁴ Heb. 11:7, with Koester (2001), 477. But Moffatt (1924), 168, has ‘to save alive’. ⁴⁵ Lk. 9:24; also in Mk. 8:35 and Mt. 16:25, but Mt. has ‘will find (εὑρήσει) it’ instead of ‘will save it’.

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wrath, and from death.⁴⁶ Compared to the practical, worldly, and often short-lived soteria offered by the saviour gods of ancient Greece, the saving effected by Jesus is said to be ‘eternal’,⁴⁷ ‘complete’, and ‘once for all’.⁴⁸ Whether physical or spiritual, Christian soteria is attained not by ritual initiation but by ‘faith’ (pistis) in Christ Jesus.⁴⁹ The idea of salvation from sin has a centrality in Christianity which was completely absent in Greek religion. The emphatic sense of sin in Christianity creates a need for salvation from its consequence through the death of Christ. The forgiveness of sin is achieved, as Paul pointed out in his letter to the Thessalonians,⁵⁰ through the mediation of a divine figure who could reconcile the faithful with God and thereby grant them eternal bliss instead of eternal damnation. The notion of sin is almost completely absent in Greek traditions except perhaps in Orphism. The Orphic myth of Dionysus is generally thought to tell how the baby Dionysus, born from Zeus and Persephone, was dismembered by the Titans but then reborn. Humanity was stained with the crime of the Titans and required ritual purification by initiation into the Mysteries of Dionysus, who would mediate between the initiates and the goddess of the underworld.⁵¹ Nevertheless, the very existence of this tradition is disputed,⁵² and even if such beliefs existed in Orphism, they were held by a minority and remained exceptional within Greek religion. Later on, in Judaism, the idea of sin is certainly present, but its relation to soteria is neither prominent nor explicit from our analysis of the Septuagint. It is only in the New Testament, beginning with the Pauline epistles, that sin and soteria became much more closely related and given a heavier emphasis. Could it be that Paul, originally a Jew born in a Hellenistic city in Asia Minor, and familiar with both pagan and Jewish traditions,⁵³ tried to express in Greek the ideas inherited from a Hebrew tradition? Or once the language of soteria was established in the Septuagint, did it pass into the New Testament and other Christian writings, where it was given a new emphasis? Whatever the origins of the Christian, eschatological notion of soteria, it was to become a central aspect ⁴⁶ Saving of souls: Jas. 1:21.1; 1 Pet. 1:9. Save from sins: Mt. 1:21; Lk. 1:77, 7:49–50; Acts 5:31. Save from God’s wrath: Rom. 5:9. Save from death: Jas. 5:20. ⁴⁷ e.g. Heb. 5:9: ‘he became the source of eternal salvation (αἴτιος σωτηρίας αἰωνίου) for all those who obey him’. See also Isa. 45:17: ‘Israel is saved by the Lord with everlasting salvation’ (Ισραηλ σῴζεται ὑπὸ κυρίου σωτηρίαν αἰώνιον). ⁴⁸ Heb. 7:25 σῴζειν εἰς τὸ παντελές has been variously translated as ‘for all time to save’ (NRSV) or ‘save completely’ (REB and NIV); Jude 5: ‘the Lord, who once for all (ἅπαξ) saved a people out of the land of Egypt’. See similarly Philo Ebr. 111: παντελὴς σωτηρία ‘complete safety’. ⁴⁹ e.g. Mk. 16:16; Lk. 7:49–50, 8:48, 8:50; Acts 16:30–1; 1 Cor. 1:21; 2 Thess. 2:13; 1 Tim. 4:10; 2 Tim. 3:15; Jas. 2:14; 2 Pet. 1:1. On pistis, see Morgan (2015). ⁵⁰ 1 Thess. 5:8–10. ⁵¹ On the myth, see Olympiodorus In Phd. 1.3 = OF 304 I, 318 III, 320 I, with discussions in especially Bernabé (2002), Henrich (2011), and Graf and Johnston (2013), ch. 3. ⁵² Edmonds III (2013), chs 6 and 9, argues for an Orphism without original sin and without a fixed canon of Orphic doctrines, but see Parker, BMCR 2014.07.13. ⁵³ On the background and education of Paul, see e.g. Hengel (1991), 18–39.

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of the Christian doctrine and its emphasis differed greatly from the word’s original meanings in paganism. The earliest occurrence of the agent noun Soter in the New Testament is difficult to pin down with certainty. Dating the books in the Bible is a notoriously contested exercise, and this is further complicated by the fact that parts of some books may come from an earlier source or tradition. If it is correct to think, as is generally believed, that the infancy narrative in the first two chapters of Luke’s Gospel developed from older Jewish traditions of the pre-Christian era,⁵⁴ and that they therefore belong to the oldest strata of the New Testament, then the earliest Christian application of the term Soter might be found in this part of Luke’s Gospel.⁵⁵ It appears where Mary, on her visit to Zechariah and Elizabeth in Judea, recognizing the miraculous intervention of God in her conception as a virgin, burst out in praise: ‘my spirit rejoices in God my saviour’ (1:47: ἐπὶ τῷ θεῷ σωτῆρί μου).⁵⁶ In another verse Soter designates Jesus when an angel announced his birth to the shepherds and told them not to be afraid: ‘to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord’ (2.11: ὅτι ἐτέχθη ὑμῖν σήμερον σωτὴρ ὅς ἐστιν χριστὸς κύριος ἐν πόλει Δαυίδ).⁵⁷ Nevertheless, even if these verses developed from older Jewish sources, it is unclear if the verbal formulations were pre-Luke. If soter was Luke’s own use of words, then the earliest occurrences of Soter in New Testament writing would be in Paul’s letters to the Philippians and Ephesians, both of which use it with reference to Christ.⁵⁸ Despite its great relevance to Jesus’ saving mission, however, the agent noun Soter is surprisingly infrequent in the New Testament. Where it occurs, the word refers more often to Jesus than to God, and some Christian authors seem to see no conflict in designating both God and Jesus as such.⁵⁹ Used twenty-four times in total with reference to God (eight times) and to Jesus (sixteen times), the word appears much less frequently than sozein (107 times) and soteria (forty-six times), and is unevenly distributed across the different books. Apart from its occurrences in the Gospel of Luke and the Pauline epistles already mentioned, Soter is used once in the other Gospels and twice in Acts.⁶⁰ Other occurrences concentrate in the Pastoral letters (ten times: six of God, four of Jesus), where ‘God our Saviour’ is ⁵⁴ On the complex question of the sources of the Lucan birth narrative, see e.g. Plummer (1901), xxiii–xxix, 30, 46; Winter (1954); Flusser (1988); Nolland (1989), 62–3, 98–9; Bovon (2002), 7; Steyn (2005), 74–5. ⁵⁵ That is, even though Luke’s Gospel ( c.80–5) was written later than the Pauline epistles (by the mid-60s ). ⁵⁶ Lk. 1:47. The phrase is close to that in the Greek version of Hab. 3:18: ἐγὼ δὲ ἐν τῷ κυριῴ ἀγαλλιάσομαι, χαρήσομαι ἐπὶ τῷ θεῷ τῷ σωτῆρί μου. ⁵⁷ Lk. 2:11. Apart from Soter in these two verses, Luke also uses the cognate word soterion (the neuter substantive of the adjective soterios) in two verses, Lk. 2:30, 3:6, which again are thought to come from an older layer of tradition. ⁵⁸ Phil. 3:20; Eph. 5:23. Note that the authorship of Ephesians and its date are disputed. ⁵⁹ The title is accorded to both God and Jesus in e.g. Lk 1:47, 2:11; Titus 1:3–4, 2:10, 2:13, 3:4–6. In Titus, each of the three uses of the title for God is followed by its use for Christ in an adjacent verse. ⁶⁰ Jn. 4:42; Acts 5:31, 13:23.

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a standard phrase,⁶¹ and in the Catholic letters (ten times: one of God, six of Jesus), where ‘our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ’ or similar expressions recur.⁶² Their recurrent and rather formulaic nature in the later books of the New Testament may give the impression that, from about the last few decades of the first century  onwards, Soter became increasingly common and established as a title of Christ.⁶³ Nevertheless, its sparing use by the Apostolic Fathers—who wrote in the decades after the Pastoral epistles—shows that the title did not become universally or immediately popular among the early Christian authors,⁶⁴ and therefore it is difficult to chart a gradual increase in its use over time from the later New Testament writings onwards. Even in the second century , its frequency and popularity varied greatly from one Christian text to another.⁶⁵ The curious rarity of Soter and the relatively late date when it became more frequent for Christ in the New Testament have long puzzled biblical scholars. How can we account for Christian authors’ sparing use of a title which, of all divine names, would seem most significant for Jesus? It is widely held that this was a response of the primitive Christian community, whether positively or antithetically, to its use for Roman emperors. Some scholars consider Christian uses of the title to have been stimulated by pagan ruler cult,⁶⁶ whereas others hold that pagan associations retarded its general acceptance in Christianity. Taylor, for instance, considered it ‘most probable . . . that the use of the name in Greek religion, and above all in Caesar worship, restricted and delayed its currency in the primitive tradition’.⁶⁷ Neither position, however, seems tenable. If stimulated by Roman imperial worship, one would expect the word to be applied to Jesus earlier, as it was already borne by Augustus (27 – 14).⁶⁸ If delayed by early Christian authors because of its pagan associations, it is hard to explain why another divine

⁶¹ Soter in the Pastoral letters (which comprise 1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, and Titus): 1 Tim. 1:1, 2:3, 4:10; 2 Tim. 1:10; Titus 1:3, 1:4, 2:10, 2:13, 3:4, 3:6, with a good discussion in Quinn (1990), 304–15. ⁶² Soter in the Catholic letters (which comprise James; 1 and 2 Peter; 1, 2, and 3 John; Jude): 2 Pet. 1:1, 1:11, 2:20, 3:2, 3:18; 1 Jn. 4:14; Jude 25. ⁶³ e.g. according to Kelly (1963), 163, Christ’s title Soter ‘rapidly established itself and became normal’ after the Pauline epistles, and there was a ‘growing, and increasingly confident, readiness to hail Christ as Saviour’; contra Wieland (2006), 27–8. ⁶⁴ Only eight instances among the Apostolic Fathers according to Foerster and Fohrer (1971), 1018–19: four in Ignatius of Antioch, and only once each in Polycarp of Smyrna, Martyrdom of Polycarp, Epistle to Diognetus, and 2 Clement. By contrast, the word is fairly popular in the Gnostic writings of Valentinus and his followers in the mid-second century ; yet it is much less common in other branches of Gnosticism: see Foerster and Fohrer (1971), 999–1001, 1019–20. ⁶⁵ Contra e.g. Moehlmann (1920), 2, 20, Taylor (1953), 109, and Horbury (1998), 146, who think that the title became popular or standard in the second century . ⁶⁶ Bousset (1913), 293–301 (310–17 in English translation); cf. Barrett (1994–8), vol. 1, 290. ⁶⁷ Taylor (1953), 108–9; see similarly Bruce (1963), 52, Kelly (1963), 163. The supposed opposition between Christian and Roman imperial terminology has been challenged by Nock (1928), 85–97 (76–85 in reprint), and Jung (2002). ⁶⁸ The title is by no means evenly distributed among the Roman emperors. See Nock (1928), 92 (81 in reprint), and in greater detail Karrer (2002), esp. 160, 166–70, who studies the possible influence between Roman imperial and Christian uses of the title.

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and imperial title, kyrios,⁶⁹ was habitually used of Christ in the New Testament. The argument that soter was avoided because of Roman imperial uses also presupposes an opposition between early Christianity and the Roman empire, when, as far as the New Testament is concerned, there is no explicit rivalry or antithesis between the Christian Soter and the pagan ones (whether human or divine).⁷⁰ Considering the openness of Greek polytheism and how readily the epithet was extended to foreign gods and humans as long as they could ‘save’, Greek worshippers are unlikely to have challenged Christian use of the title for their God and Jesus at least at the beginning of Christianity. If there was indeed any conscious contrast between the Christian and pagan saviours, as is often assumed, there would have been all the more reason for Christian authors to assert Jesus’ status as the true Saviour instead of delaying the use of the title. According to a different explanation, soter was avoided not because of pagan use but because of its use of God. Moehlmann argued that soter did not become common for Jesus until he was also given the divine title theos following the death of Paul. According to Moehlmann, Jesus was distinguished from and subordinate to God in the primitive Church, and this, to his mind, prevented the transfer of God’s divine title to Christ.⁷¹ To support his correlation between soter and theos, Moehlmann cited Hellenistic and Roman rulers who were deified as both soter and theos. Nevertheless, he has neglected the important fact that soter in the Graeco-Roman world did not necessarily imply divinity,⁷² and he has left out the equally many instances where soter was not accompanied by the title theos, whether in preChristian uses or in the New Testament.⁷³ Moehlmann and others speak repeatedly of the ‘persistent refusal’, ‘restraint’, and ‘delay’ in extending the title to Jesus, as if it was deliberately avoided by authors of the New Testament. It is not my intention here to tackle a theological issue, but I tentatively offer some possibly overlooked explanations. Instead of a conscious avoidance on the part of the early Church, it was perhaps not considered necessary to call Jesus soter since the very name of ‘Jesus’ (Ἰησοῦς) itself means ‘saviour’. The angel sent by the Lord announced to Joseph the birth of Jesus, saying ‘she (Mary) will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins’ (τέξεται δὲ υἱόν, καὶ καλέσεις τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ Ἰησοῦν· αὐτὸς γὰρ σώσει τὸν λαὸν αὐτοῦ ἀπὸ τῶν ἁμαρτιῶν αὐτῶν). Although the agent noun soter is not used, the angel is explaining (γάρ) the name Ἰησοῦς in terms of Jesus’ saving mission.⁷⁴ ‘Jesus’ (Ἰησοῦς) is the Greek equivalent of the

⁶⁹ Biblical use of kyrios: Bousset (1913); Bachmann and Slaby (1980), 1074–90, s.v. κύριος; Hurtado (2003), esp. 108–18; and other scholarship in n. 6. Kyrios is a cult epithet of pagan gods: Parker (2017a), ch. 5. ⁷⁰ The closest examples of antithesis are Isa. 43:11, 45:21, and Acts 4:12 (see Chapter 6.5 below). ⁷¹ Moehlmann (1920). On Jesus’ title theos, see Harris (1992). ⁷² Moehlmann (1920), 37–9. ⁷³ See Bachmann and Slaby (1980), 1766, s.v. σωτήρ. ⁷⁴ Mt. 1:21. Gundry (1982), 23; Davies and Allison (1988–97), vol. 1, 209; Hagner (1993), 19.

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Hebrew ‫‘( ֵישׁוַּע‬Jeshua’), a shortened and later form for ‫שַע‬ ֻׁ ‫‘( ְיהוֹ‬Joshua’), which means ‘Yahweh is salvation’.⁷⁵ This verse in Matthew is quoted by Justin in his First Apology in the second century  when explaining that ‘the name Jesus in the Hebrew language means Soter in the Greek tongue’ (τὸ δὲ Ἰησοῦς ὄνομα τῇ ἑβραΐδι ϕωνῇ σωτὴρ τῇ ἑλληνίδι διαλέκτῳ δηλοῖ).⁷⁶ So long as the original meaning of his name was understood, it was perhaps not necessary to give Jesus the title of Soter. Apart from Soter and Ἰησοῦς, there was no lack of other words to express similar ideas in the Bible, so the rarity of Soter may derive in part from some authors’ preference for other words, and in part from the availability of other options, rather than a matter of conscious avoidance. Taylor and Saboutin have each studied over thirty names of Jesus; some of what they classified as ‘soteriological’ titles are, among others, ‘the redeemer’ (λυτρωτής), ‘the mediator’ (μεσίτης), ‘the expiation’ (ἱλασμός), ‘the lamb’ (ἀρνίον), and ‘the advocate’ (παράκλητος).⁷⁷ To their collection we can add other, though less frequent, expressions such as ὁ ῥυόμενος (‘the Deliverer’) and its cognate verb ῥύεσθαι, which, like sozein, can have both a physical and an eschatological sense.⁷⁸ In Romans 11:26, after saying that all Israel will be saved (σωθήσεται), Paul quotes an Old Testament verse which refers to ὁ ῥυόμενος (‘the Deliverer’) coming out of Zion.⁷⁹ Other words relating to salvation and deliverance are, among others, ἀπαλλάσσειν (‘to release’, ‘to set free’), βοηθεῖν (‘to help’), (ἀπο)λύτρωσις (‘redemption’), λυτροῦσθαι (‘to redeem’), and ἱλάσκεσθαι (‘to be merciful’).⁸⁰ The New Testament focuses more on the means of attaining salvation—faith in Christ and the forgiveness of sins—than the name of the agent and the concept of ‘salvation’ itself. Where they are explicitly expressed at all, ‘Saviour’ and ‘salvation’ are often discussed through terms other than Soter and its cognates. Compared to ancient Greek polytheism, in Christianity the relation between worshippers and their divine ‘saviour’ (whether God or Jesus) is much more personal. In ancient Greece, as we have seen, it is difficult to find such expressions as ‘my saviour’ or ‘our saviour’, which signify a personal relation with a saviour god,⁸¹ but in the Bible and other Christian writings ‘God our saviour’ (θεὸς ὁ σωτὴρ ἡμῶν), ‘our lord and saviour Jesus Christ’ (ὁ κύριος ἡμῶν καὶ σωτὴρ Ἰησους ⁷⁵ Foerster (1968); Arndt and Danker (2000), s.v. Ἰησοῦς; Silva (2014), vol. 4, 424, s.v. σῴζω. Silva at 424 also discusses other proper names, e.g. Isaiah, Hosea, and Hoshaiah, which are also related in meaning to salvation. ⁷⁶ Justin 1 Apol. 33.7. ⁷⁷ Taylor (1953), 107–23; Sabourin (1963), 135–90. ⁷⁸ Bachmann and Slaby (1980), 1677, s.v. ῥύομαι. ⁷⁹ Rom. 11:26, from Isa. 59:20. On eschatological uses of ῥύεσθαι, see also Col. 1:13; 1 Thess. 1:10. But 2 Tim. 4:18 distinguishes between ῥύεσθαι and σῴζειν, using the former for rescue from evil attacks on earth and the latter for deliverance to the Lord’s heavenly kingdom. ⁸⁰ See e.g. Hill (1967), Steyn (2005), 71–2. ⁸¹ Some rare and mostly late examples are ASAA n.s. 25–6 (1965), 324–5, no. 24 (Ἀρτέμιδος Σ ̣ ωτείρας ἡμετέρας); I.Smyrna 766 (Ὑμνῶ θεὸν Μέλητα ποταμόν, τὸν σωτῆρά μου); IG IV².1 570 (Λυσίμαχος τῇ ἐμαυτοῦ σωτείρῃ καὶ Τελεσϕόρῳ). Private individuals’ use of such phrases is discussed in Chapter 3.7.

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Χριστός), or similar formulations are extremely common.⁸² Already in the Septuagint, especially in Psalms, the expression ‘God my/our saviour’ (ὁ θεὸς ὁ σωτήρ μου/ἡμῶν) is familiar.⁸³ We have already seen Mary rejoicing ‘in God my saviour’ (ἐπὶ τῷ θεῷ σωτῆρί μου).⁸⁴ Nevertheless, both religious cultures share the expressions ‘saviour of the world’ or ‘saviour of mankind’. Christ is ‘the saviour of the world’ (ὁ σωτὴρ τοῦ κόσμου) and ‘saviour of all people’ (σωτὴρ πάντων ἀνθρώπων).⁸⁵ These expressions are striking similar or identical to those used of Roman emperors and occasionally the Greek gods—probably by extension from imperial use to divine use.⁸⁶ It is difficult to determine whether Christianity derived similar phrases from Roman imperial cults or developed them independently, and the extent to which there was mutual influence. What is interesting is that, contrary to the claims of some scholars,⁸⁷ pagan formulations do not seem to have deterred Christian authors from using them. The result of this linguistic survey turns out to be somewhat surprising. There is, contrary to what we might have expected, more than one divine Saviour in the New Testament, and it was apparently not considered incompatible with Christian monotheism to designate both God and Jesus as such. While God is the ultimate source of salvation, it was through Jesus that God brought salvation to mankind.⁸⁸ However, as we have seen, Jesus is not called Soter from the very beginning of Christianity, nor is this his most prominent title in the New Testament. It is far outnumbered by other titles such as Kyrios, Christos, and the Son of Man.⁸⁹ As for the concept of soteria, it could continue to be used in an earthly sense alone in the first century of Christianity in much the same way as it had been in ancient Greece, although it also acquired a new eschatological aspect that was alien to it in Greek traditions. By borrowing this familiar Greek term and retaining its original meanings, Christians could make their Gospel both intelligible and attractive to audiences in the Graeco-Roman world. At the same time, however, they stretched the concept to include deliverance from sin and life beyond death. Given that soteria for the Greeks had always been confined to the here-and-now, this derivation—if Christianity indeed derived this central concept from Greek religion—involved a significant adaptation and change in meaning. If frequency of occurrence can be taken as one indicator of a word’s significance (or the lack thereof ), then readers might be surprised to find that ‘salvation’ and ⁸² See Bachmann and Slaby (1980), 1766, s.v. σωτήρ. Christian formulae combining Soter and a possessive pronoun in various formulations are studied in detail by Linssen (1929), 11–28. ⁸³ e.g. Ps. 25:5, 27:1, 27:9, 65:5, 79:9, 95:1; Isa. 12:2; Mic. 7:7. ⁸⁴ Lk. 1:47. ⁸⁵ ‘Saviour of the world’: Jn. 3:17, 4:42, 12:47; 1 Jn. 4:14. ‘Saviour of all people’: 1 Tim. 4:10. ⁸⁶ Emperors: e.g. IG XII.5 557 (Julius Caesar, σωτὴρ τῆς οἰκουμένης); BE (1974), no. 461 (Claudius, σωτὴρ τοῦ συνπάμπαντος [ἀνθρώ]πων γένους); IG II/III² 3293, 3384, IG XII.3 1396 (Hadrian, σωτὴρ τοῦ κόσμου). Greek gods: e.g. IGBulg I² 86 bis, a dedication ‘to Soter Asclepius of the world’ (τῷ τῆς οἰκουμένης σωτῆρι Ἀσκληπιῷ); Steinepigramme 05/01/06 = I.Smyrna 750 ([σ]ωτῆρ᾽ ἀνθρώπων Ἀσ[κληπιόν]). ⁸⁷ See n. 67. ⁸⁸ See e.g. Jn. 3:17; Acts 13:23, 5:30–1; 1 Tim. 2:5; 1 Jn. 4:14. ⁸⁹ On these titles, see Bachmann and Slaby (1980), Hurtado (2003), and bibliography on the names of Jesus in n. 6 above.

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‘saviour’ are less dominant in early Christian thinking than we might have assumed. This seems startling if we consider Christianity as the religion of salvation par excellence. However, it need not surprise us if we consider the different hands involved and the different times of composition of the biblical books, and the great variety of words, concepts, and titles available for expressing similar ideas, so that it is natural not to find uniformity and strict coherence. The presence or absence of the word group and its use could largely be a matter of an author’s choice, and so it is methodologically erroneous to postulate a linear development from the Old Testament to the New, or from the earlier New Testament books to the later ones. The situation is, in some ways, not dissimilar to what we have encountered in ancient Greece: there was no regularity and no means of regulating when to use which cult epithet of which gods under what circumstances. The picture is, though it may not be to historians’ liking, untidy. The considerable room for variation in Greek polytheism as in early Christianity is what makes the use of divine titles so challenging to grapple with.

6.4 Funeral and Dedicatory Inscriptions: Pagan and Christian The discussion so far has concentrated on biblical uses of Soter and soteria. Outside the theological circle, how did early Christians understand the concept of soteria, and how commonly did they use it in an eschatological sense? As Christianity spread in the Greek Mediterranean, to what extent was there any identifiable change in pagan use of soteria? To shed light on these questions, we shall turn to funeral and dedicatory inscriptions by pagans and Christians, and examine how worshippers used the language of ‘saving’ in these contexts. Pagan epitaphs did not normally use the language of soteria,⁹⁰ not even in those which anticipated the afterlife. Where eschatological hopes are expressed on tombstones, the deceased are usually said to be dwelling in the place of the pious; in the Elysian fields; in ether or the upper air; or among the immortals, the blessed, or the heroes.⁹¹ These expressions resemble how eschatological promises are referred to in the various ancient Mysteries discussed at the beginning of this chapter. Whether in Greek mystery cults or in funeral inscriptions, there was no single abstract noun to denote post-mortem felicity, even though the idea already existed in ancient Greece. In the few instances where the language of

⁹⁰ Setting aside a dossier of Phrygian epitaphs in which Hecate Soteira is mentioned in an enigmatic formulae: see Appendix III. ⁹¹ e.g. CEG 10 (αἰθὲρ μέμ ϕσυχὰς ὑπεδέχσατο); Peek, GVI 431.4 (ἐν Ἠλυσίωι), 1031 = Steinepigramme 16/22/03 (ψυχὴ δ᾽ ἀθανάτων αἰθέρα ναιετάει); Peek, GVI 1990.9 (μακάρων νῆσοι); Corinth VIII.1, no. 130 (εὐσεβέων χῶρος); RICIS 308/1201 (μακάρων δ᾽ ἔδραμον εἰς λιμένας); I.Egypte métriques, no. 88 (χῶρος ἥσυχον ἀθανάτων); CIRB 1057 (ἠρώων χῶρος); Kaibel, Epigrammata graeca, no. 366.6 (μακάρων νῆσοι ἀθανάτων). See also Peres (2003), 106–21, 217–32.

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soteria or sozein appears in pagan epitaphs, it is important to note that it carries no eschatological connotation. One of these shows an Athenian proudly proclaiming that he lived until age 90 after ‘having sacrificed to all the gods and having been protected (σωθείς) always by them’, that is, he had always enjoyed divine protection in life because of his piety.⁹² Another concerns a soldier buried in Cotiaeum: the inscription tells us that the dust holds him ‘saved from troubles’ (σωθεὶς ἐκ καμάτων), presumably referring to death as a relief from troubles in life, a motif also found in other epitaphs.⁹³ Elsewhere in Asia Minor, a sarcophagus in Alexandria Troas bears the phrase σωτηρία τοῦ παντὸς πράγματος (‘protection of all matters’), presumably referring to the safekeeping of the tomb and all the grave goods, and goes on to impose a fine on anyone who puts another corpse in it.⁹⁴ Even down to the second or third century , despite the potential influence of early Christianity, therefore, the use of sozein and soteria by pagans was still confined to life on earth.⁹⁵ Even in early Christian epitaphs, soteria and its cognates are surprisingly rare. Among the some 4,250 early Christian inscriptions from Greece and Asia Minor collected in Inscriptiones Christianae Graecae,⁹⁶ dating mainly from about the second to the sixth centuries , there are some three thousand epitaphs, but only a few refer to Christ’s title Soter. As Ogereau observes, in fact the word Soter is far less common in Christian inscriptions than in pagans ones from the same region where it designates the title of pagan gods, rulers, or officials.⁹⁷ Apart from these references to Christ as Soter, only a handful of Christian epitaphs use soteria and sozein in an eschatological sense, to which we can add a few more from other corpora.⁹⁸ A Cretan epitaph appeals to Jesus to save the soul of the deceased woman (σῶ̣ [σον] τὴν ψυχὴ ̣ [ν] αὐτῆς),⁹⁹ and another concerns a priest who ‘[sou]ght salvation in [ma]ny toils’ ([ζητ]ήσασ ἐν πόνοις [πολλ]οῖς

⁹² Peek, GVI 392 = IG II/III² 13137 (second century , Athens): πᾶσι θεοῖς θύσας καὶ σωθεὶς πάντοτε ὑπ᾽ αὐτῶν / εἰς τύνβον κεῖμαι, ἐννέα ἔχων δεκάδες. ⁹³ Peek, GVI 533 = Steinepigramme 16/32/10 (Cotiaeum, first or second century ). Similar motifs can be found in SEG IV 727 (ῥυομένη ̣ ν νούσων, Neoclaudianopolis, second to third century ); Peek, GVI 2040.7 = I.Pergamon 576.7 (νόσων ἄκος, Pergamum, Roman imperial period). ⁹⁴ I.Alexandreia Troas 156 (Alexandria Troas, second or third century ). ⁹⁵ This is confirmed also by Peres (2003) whose comparison between afterlife beliefs in pagan epigrams and in the New Testament demonstrates that pagan epigrams have no salvation language, not even those which anticipated the afterlife. ⁹⁶ Breytenbach, Hallof, and Huttner (2016), online at: http://www.epigraph.topoi.org/ica/ icamainapp/. More inscriptions will continue to be added to this useful database. ⁹⁷ Soter: ICG, nos. 76 (by supplement), 1689, 1887 (epitaph?), 3306 (epitaph?); see also Bandy (1970), no. 76, Ogereau (2019), 619. ⁹⁸ Soteria and sozein: ICG, nos. 2375, 3043, 3200; Bandy (1970), no. 99, and appendix, no. 1; Beševliev (1964), no. 136 ; and possibly I.Gerasa, no. 333, which may or may not be funereal in nature (see n. 110 below). The impact of Christianity on funeral inscriptions and their ‘epigraphic habits’ is discussed in Mitchell (2017). ⁹⁹ Bandy (1970), no. 99 (Crete, fourth century ).

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σωτηρίαν).¹⁰⁰ An epitaph in Thessalonica begins with the phrase ‘for salvation and troubles’ (Εἰς σωτερίαν κὲ καμάτους), but it is unclear whose salvation is meant (the deceased daughter or her mother, who set up the stone?).¹⁰¹ Though present in Christian funeral inscriptions, these expressions remain remarkably rare even in the fourth and fifth centuries when the Christian faith was fairly widespread across the Roman empire. Instead of soteria, eschatological hopes are most frequently expressed by the adjective μακάριος or μακαριώτατος, a word similarly used in pagan epitaphs.¹⁰² It is outside funeral practices, in dedications and invocations, that sozein and soteria are more frequently used by early Christians. An interesting group of Christian graffiti (fifth to seventh centuries ), scratched on the slope of the promontory at Grammata in the north-western tip of Syros, shows many sailors invoking God (and sometimes saints) for protection with the word σῶσον or βοήθει: Lord, protect the boat;¹⁰³ protect the crew,¹⁰⁴ protect the voyage.¹⁰⁵ These individuals must have reached the port safely and were praying for continued protection on their onward voyage. Thus one graffito reads ‘Lord, we thank you because you have [s]av[ed] us, [Kyria]kos of Miletus, of the trading post of Hypon’ (Κ ̣ (ύρι)ε εὐχαρι[σ]το̣[ῦ]μέν σοι ὅτι [ἔ]σωσ[ες] ἡ̣ μᾶς, [Κυρια]κὸς Μιλίσιως ἐνπωρίου Ὑπῶνο[ς]).¹⁰⁶ In all these instances the ‘saving’ prayed for and/or attained was clearly physical rather than eschatological. Such prayers and invocations aside, Christian dedications also made frequent use of the prayer formula hyper soterias just like their pagan equivalents. Christians could pray ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας ἑαυτοῦ καὶ τοῦ οἴκου αὐτοῦ (‘for the well-being / safety of himself and his family’), ὑπὲρ σωτηρί̣ ας ναυτῶν (‘for the safety of sailors’), ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας τῆς νάου (‘for preservation of the temple’), ὑπὲρ εὐχῆς κὲ σωτηρίας τοῦ δεσπότου ἡμῶν (‘for (the fulfilment of the) prayer and safety/salvation of our master’), and so on.¹⁰⁷ One interesting use of sozein concerns the polis collectively rather than ¹⁰⁰ Bandy (1970), appendix, no. 1 (Crete, fifth century ). This epitaph has been variously taken as Christian or Jewish, and Halbherr ap. Bandy interprets the phrase ἐν πόνοις [πολλ]οῖς σωτηρίαν as ‘alluding to the Christian notion of earthly sufferings which procure eternal rest’. ¹⁰¹ ICG 3200 = Feissel, Recueil, no. 179. For other Christian uses of soteria/sozein in epitaphs, see ICG, no. 2375: ἡμετέρ[αν σω]τηρίαν (Ankyra, fourth to fifth century ); ICG, no. 3043 = Feissel, Recueil, no. 35: Χ(ριστ)έ, [σῶσον] κ(αὶ) πάλ[ιν ἀνά]στησ[ον ἡμᾶς] (‘Christ, [save us] and rai[se us] agai[n]’) (Edessa, fourth to fifth century ); Beševliev (1964), no. 136: Κ(ύρι)ε σῶσον (Odessus, undated). ¹⁰² Christian uses: see Sironen (1997), nos. 278, 290, 292, 311, and indexes in Beševliev (1964), Bandy (1970), and Feissel, Recueil. Pagan epitaphs: see n. 91. Apart from μακάριος / μακαριώτατος, pagan and Christian epitaphs share other terminology expressing post-mortem felicity, such as in ether or heaven (αἰθήρ): e.g. Sironen (1997), 171 (εἰς αἰθέρα ψυχὴ διέπτη). ¹⁰³ Protect the boat/ship: I.Chr.Cyclades, nos. 71, 79, 103, 131. ¹⁰⁴ Protect the crew: I.Chr.Cyclades, nos. 92, 130. ¹⁰⁵ Protect the voyage or crossing: I.Chr.Cyclades, nos. 83, 113, 117. ¹⁰⁶ I.Chr.Cyclades, no. 95; cf. similarly no. 109. The text is slightly different from that in IG XII.5 712, 68. ¹⁰⁷ ICG, no. 3444 (Troezen, fifth to sixth century ); cf. no. 4022. SEG LI 1875 (Cape Drepanon in Cyprus, fifth or sixth century ); SEG XXXIX 730c (Rhodes, undated); SEG XXIX 1227 (Skamandros in Troas, sixth century ?).

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individual salvation: a marble stele in Amphipolis invokes Christ to ‘save and raise up this city’ (σῶσον καὶ ἀνάστησον καὶ τὴν πόλειν ταύτην), when the city was probably troubled by plague or military invasion. The text reminds us of the communal concerns for soteria which we saw in Chapter 2.¹⁰⁸ Occasionally, however, there are attempts by worshippers to Christianize these dedicatory formulae or to give them a more spiritual emphasis. A mosaic inscription from Cyzicus invokes the Lord to ‘save the soul of your servant Hipasios’ (σῶσον τὴν ψυχὴν τοῦ δούλου σου Ἱπασίου), whereas a fragmentary text, from Dionysopolis in Phrygia, is made ‘for the salvation of the faithful’ (εἰς σ]ω ̣ τ̣ηρίαν τῶν πιστῶν).¹⁰⁹ The references to the soul and to the faithful mark these prayers as different from pagan concerns. Where contextual or further information is lacking, it is often unclear whether ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας τινός concerns a person’s general well-being or the life beyond, and the two aspects can sometimes be difficult to disentangle. A dedicatory inscription, on a mosaic panel in a church in Gerasa in Syria, seems to contain a prayer for the salvation of the donor’s parents ([ὑ]π̣ὲρ σω[τ]ηρίας πατρὸς [καὶ μ]η ̣ τρός). Depending on whether his parents were alive or (more probably) buried in the church, soteria could take on an earthly or eschatological meaning or both.¹¹⁰ A similar element of ambiguity is present in the many Christian dedications ‘for (fulfilment of ) a prayer and salvation’ (ὑπὲρ εὐχῆς καὶ σωτηρίας) of someone.¹¹¹ But even if a second layer of meaning may lie behind some Christian dedications, what is significant is that soteria and its cognates continued to be used in an earthly sense by Christians. There seems to be little or no resistance to using a dedicatory formula widely familiar in dedications addressed to the pagan gods. So strikingly similar are these prayers to what we have seen in the earlier chapters that, if removed from their original archaeological and Christian contexts (such as Christian titles, symbols, and churches), pagan and Christian prayers hyper soterias would be hardly distinguishable.

6.5 Epilogue: Pagan and Christian ‘Saviours’—Contact, Conflicts, and Competition When Christianity became legal in the fourth century , many of saviour gods had already been worshipped, in peaceful coexistence other, for almost a millennium. Having long protected individuals through their everyday troubles and particular crises, these gods and

the Greek with each and cities cults were

¹⁰⁸ ICG, no. 3647 = SEG XLVIII 720 (Amphipolis, sixth century ). ¹⁰⁹ SEG LXI 1029 (Cyzicus, fifth century ); ICG, no. 1080 = MAMA IV 327 (Dionysoupolis,  400–600). I owe these two texts and observations to Haensch (2017), 341–2. ¹¹⁰ I.Gerasa, no. 333 (sixth century ). The editors think that the parents might have been buried in the church. ¹¹¹ ICG, nos. 418, 1115–16, 1451, 1468.

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still flourishing in the first few centuries of the Christian era. This bewildering plurality of cults and the freedom of choice which characterized Greek polytheism stood in sharp contrast with Christianity’s demand to worship one true Saviour.¹¹² Despite the henotheistic tendency in Hellenistic Greece to elevate one god above the others in the pantheon,¹¹³ the sole worship of one god to the exclusion of others is unprecedented in Greek religion. Christian monotheism’s demand is made clear in God’s proclamation that ‘I am the Lord, and besides me there is no saviour’.¹¹⁴ As the book of Isaiah puts it, ‘Ignorant are those who carry idols of wood, who pray to gods that cannot save (οἳ οὐ σῴζουσιν) . . .’, as Yahweh asserts that ‘there is no God apart from me, a righteous god and a Saviour (δίκαιος καὶ σωτήρ); there is none but me. Turn to me and be saved (σωθήσεσθε), all you ends of the earth; for I am God, and there is no other’.¹¹⁵ Similar statements are made of Jesus in the New Testament: ‘There is no salvation (σωτηρία) in anyone else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved (σωθῆναι)’.¹¹⁶ Although οἳ οὐ σῴζουσιν refers to other gods in general and not to the Greek saviour gods specifically, it still holds true that in Christianity other gods are deemed inferior, illegitimate, and incapable of ‘saving’ mankind spiritually and eternally. Much more polemical than Isaiah are some early Christian writers, who denounced paganism as a perversion of the true religion. In his Exhortation to the Greeks (Proptrepticus) written towards the end of the second century , Clement of Alexandria denounced the pagans who, ‘not understanding that it was God who benefited them, invented certain saviours, the Dioscuri, Heracles averter of evils, and Asclepius the healer’.¹¹⁷ Among the Greek gods, Asclepius in particular could be seen as a rival of Jesus for the healing miracles he was widely believed to have performed. Eusebius’ Life of Constantine, written in the fourth century  after the conversion of Constantine, recounts vividly a Christian attack on this pagan saviour in the name of the true Saviour. Even though ‘countless people got excited about him [Asclepius] as a saviour and healer (σωτὴρ καὶ ἰατρός)’, in the eye of the Christian author, ‘when it came to souls he was a destroyer, drawing the gullible away from the true Saviour (ἀληθοῦς ἀϕέλκων σωτῆρος) and attracting them to godless error’. At the command of Constantine, the temple of Asclepius at Aegae in Cilicia was razed to the ground, thus demonstrating that ‘the one who used to promise others a way of avoiding evils

¹¹² The impact of early Christianity on pagan religion would require a much larger treatment. See e.g. MacMullen (1981), Lane Fox (1986), Trombley (1993–4). ¹¹³ On henotheism, see Versnel (1990), Versnel (2011), ch. 3. ¹¹⁴ Isa. 43:11. ¹¹⁵ Isa. 45:20–2. The English translation is that of the New International Version. ¹¹⁶ Acts 4:12. ¹¹⁷ Clem. Al. Protr. 2.22: τὸν γὰρ εὐεργετοῦντα μὴ συνιέντες θεὸν ἀνέπλασάν τινας σωτῆρας Διοσκούρους καὶ Ἡρακλέα ἀλεξίκακον καὶ Ἀσκληπιὸν ἰατρόν.

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and disasters could find no spell to protect himself (ἑαυτῷ πρὸς ἄμυναν)’.¹¹⁸ The motif that pagan gods are unable to defend themselves is also found in other Christian writings.¹¹⁹ The destruction of Asclepius’ temple represents only one episode in a long series of conflicts between pagans and Christians. It was in the same period of time, in the reign of Constantine, that we find a curious instance of soteria apparently referring to salvation after death, and seemingly supporting the view that ancient mystery cults offered eschatological soteria, a claim we encountered at the beginning of this chapter. When explaining the passwords (symbola) used by pagans, the Christian apologist Firmicus Maternus describes a scene in the celebration of a mystery cult, during which a priest anoints the throats of initiates mourning over a statue and whispers: θαρρεῖτε μύσται τοῦ θεοῦ σεσωσμένου· ἔσται γὰρ ἡμῖν ἐκ πόνων σωτηρία.¹²⁰ Take heart, initiates, the god has been saved! There will be salvation from sufferings for us.

The god thus ‘saved’ and the cult in question have been endlessly debated among historians.¹²¹ Despite repeated attempts to look for comparable rites in Greek antiquity, what is striking about this passage is not the extent to which it supposedly represents any of the ancient Mysteries, but its close resemblance to Christianity. It may well be that a pagan cult, under the influence of Christianity, was borrowing Christian language and motif at this date. Firmicus adduces this example to illustrate paganism’s perverse imitation (imitatio corrupta) of the true religion, and to condemn its supposed salvation as a false promise. Nevertheless, written from a stance which is clearly hostile and affected probably by the ideological and political contexts of its time, this Christian text cannot be securely taken as a faithful representation of pagan cult practice in Firmicus’ own days, and still less of that in the earlier periods. Any other-worldly emphasis of soteria, if indeed present in some Greek cult, might well be a late adaptation in a context of religious conflict and competition.¹²² The character of soteria, then, is remarkably consistent from its earliest attestations in the late Archaic period down to about the fourth century . Despite its ¹¹⁸ Euseb. Vit. Const. 3.56, with commentary and translation in Cameron and Hall (1999). But despite Eusebius’ claims, the cult of Asclepius at Aegae seems to have continued to function according to other sources: see references in Cameron and Hall (1999), 303. ¹¹⁹ e.g. Judg. 6.31 (on Baal and the destruction of his altar); Euseb. De laudibus Constantini 9. ¹²⁰ Firm. Mat. Err. prof. rel. 22.1. I have discussed this passage more fully in Jim (2017b), 273–4. ¹²¹ The cult has been variously identified as that of Attis, Osiris, or the Eleusinian Mysteries. Scholarship before 1982 is conveniently collected in Turcan’s commentary in the Belles Lettres edition, pp. 313–15. ¹²² Lancellotti (2002) demonstrates how traditions of Attis might have been adapted and reinterpreted over time by different circles.

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encounter and interaction with Christianity in the later Roman empire, and despite its new eschatological connotation which later became a central aspect of Christian doctrine, soteria never shed its earthly layers of meanings. Even after Christianity was legalized, soteria was still capable of being used by pagans and Christians alike in a this-worldly sense without necessarily suggesting postmortem benefits. The continuities between pagan and Christian conceptions of soteria are therefore just as striking as the differences. It cannot be emphasized enough that even in the New Testament, there was no one unified conception of soteria, and that it has a wide range of meanings and emphases, which can vary from one book to another. If soteria in the Greek world is deemed ephemeral and material, and is thought to concern safety on earth, good health, and material security, the Christian notion of soteria is not free from such connotations either. As we have seen, Christians could appeal to their God for maritime protection, physical well-being, and relief from earthly troubles or afflictions using the very same word soteria and its cognates. This should not surprise us as Christians faced the same uncertainties in life as did the ancient Greeks, and Christianity could not afford to uproot from popular beliefs the earthly dimensions of soteria which were deeply ingrained in Graeco-Roman culture. The ultimate success of Christianity over paganism lies, not in any radical departure from Graeco-Roman traditions, but in part in its ability to simultaneously offer soteria on earth and to go beyond it to fashion a new promise.

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Conclusion This book has demonstrated how pervasive the need for soteria was in the Greek world, and how central and fundamental it was in the relationship between men and gods. In their search for soteria, the Greeks approached their gods with innumerable prayers, sacrifices, and votive offerings. Whether in normal circumstances or in times of need, Greek poleis and their members at all levels of society would seek soteria from the gods. Not only could they appeal to the gods for soteria before beginning an activity and/or when encountering some danger in the process,¹ they could also bring an offering to commemorate soteria attained and to pray for continued divine protection. The Greeks projected their desire for it onto the names of individuals, inanimate objects, and above all their gods.² So widespread is the phenomenon that, from at least the Archaic period down to the Roman imperial, there were hundreds of cults of gods bearing the title Soter or Soteira all over the Greek world. Yet Soter and soteria were not necessarily godrelated. Human beings could also be called soter, informally in speech or formally with cultic honours, depending on the nature and magnitude of the services they had performed or were expected to perform with regard to safety, protection, and well-being. As the word soter was not a prerogative of the gods, the Greeks had a spectrum of different ‘saviour’ figures, who, though similar language was sometimes applied to them, had greatly varying significance in their mental universe. Despite the pervasiveness of the phenomenon, soteria and ‘saviour’ gods remain elusive and difficult to pin down. While this study has focused on the words Soter, soteria, and sozein, it has also taken account of contexts where the same concerns were expressed without the language of ‘saving’ being used or without the gods receiving the epithet Soter. On the one hand, gods who ‘saved’ did not necessarily bear the title of Soter or Soteira. The clearest illustration of this is Asclepius: he had long been performing his ‘saving’ function of healing before he acquired the title, and the Epidaurian iamata are full of testimonies of his saving power without using sozein or cognate words.³ The absence of the title therefore by no means undermined a god’s power to ‘save’. On the other hand, ¹ e.g. Arr. Anab. 6.19.4–5, Indica 20.10, 21.2 (before Nearchus’ expedition), 36.3 (after Nearchus’ return); Gow–Page, HE, Leonidas LIII = Anth. Pal. 6.221 (goatherds invoking Zeus Soter when threatened by a lion). ² Personal names: see Introduction n. 10. Inanimate objects: e.g. Syll.³ 763.7 (warship), Strabo 16.4.7, 770 (harbour), App. Syr. 57 (city), and other examples in Introduction n. 34. ³ IG IV².1 121–3.

Saviour Gods and Soteria in Ancient Greece. Theodora Suk Fong Jim, Oxford University Press. © Theodora Suk Fong Jim 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192894113.003.0008

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      

there were other, related epithets similarly signifying a god’s protective power: Alexikakos (‘Averter of Evil’), Asphaleios (‘Securer’), Iater (‘Healer’), Lysios (‘Deliverer’, ‘Releaser’, ‘Loosener’), Phylake (‘Guardian’), Prostaterios (‘Standing in Front’, ‘Protecting’), and so on. The dividing line between these epithets is thin and slippery; how worshippers decided how to formulate their prayer and which epithet to use (if any) in any given situation is a process which largely eludes us. It has therefore not been possible to confine this study narrowly to a semantic analysis of the words from the root so-; instead it must also take into account other related words and expressions. Worshippers’ choices of gods and epithets might have been affected by many factors, such as, inter alia, social norms, cultural knowledge, the local pantheon, proximity to cult sites, worshippers’ needs and circumstances, personal preference, and the availability of other epithets. The untidy and seemingly inconsistent picture can be difficult for us to grapple with, but imprecision is in fact an inherent feature of Greek religion. Accuracy could often not be attained given the limits of human knowledge and the ultimate unknowability of the divine;⁴ nor was precision needed to achieve the desired results, as similar effects could often be attained by different means and varying ways of addressing the gods. Different ways of naming the gods may reflect different choices and approaches to the divine from different worshippers and worshipping groups in different times and places. This also explains why there can be no unitary or straightforward answer to the question repeatedly raised in this study, as to why some gods were more often called Soter or Soteira, and others rarely or not at all even though they were also capable of saving. Without trying to simplify the complexity of the problem, what this study has endeavoured to demonstrate is the plurality of options available, the flexibility of Greek religious language, the polyvalence of the epithet and the underlying concept, and the freedom of choice offered by Greek polytheism when the Greeks approached their gods (via different means and under various forms of address) for soteria. The impressive number of ‘saviour’ gods we have encountered and their ubiquity all over the Greek world is a reflection of the risks and dangers (potential or real) which permeated all aspects of life in antiquity, and of the fears and uncertainties associated with them in the minds of the Greeks. We have seen how the Greeks sought soteria from the gods in circumstances ranging from farming and healing to sailing and warfare. Confronted with the unknown and unknowable in these and other activities in life, the Greeks turned to their gods for safety, protection, and deliverance. Invoking a god as Soter (or similar) might have had the psychological effects of bringing to the fore the positive, protective aspect of the gods and assuring oneself that one was under divine protection amid the ⁴ Hence many prayers and hymns express doubts and uncertainties as to the most appropriate divine name to use (if there was one): e.g. Aesch. Ag. 160–3, Eur. Bacch. 275–6, and other examples in Versnel (2011), 49ff.

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vicissitudes of human fortune. Along with animal sacrifices, oracular consultations, and festival celebrations, Greek religious language constituted an important means of coping with anxieties in the Greeks’ day-to-day experience and dealings with the divine. Given the multiple options available in Greek polytheism, worshippers could appeal to different gods and try different means in any given situation or in different ones. Despite our tendency to think of the gods as working in separate spheres, in fact there were few gods who were not in some contexts asked to save in one way or another,⁵ and multiple gods were often involved in different ways in the same sphere of life. Unlike heroes and specialized gods with a closely circumscribed function,⁶ most of the Greek gods had a complex set of competences overlapping with those of each other, so that there was no clear delineation of power within the Greek pantheon. As we have seen, even Asclepius could, exceptionally, save on the battlefield,⁷ and Zeus Soter probably owed his widespread popularity in the Greek world not to any clearly defined functions, but to his omni-competence and ability to ‘save’ in many spheres of life. Amid the myriad protective divinities available to help, the Greeks made no conscious distinction between their origins (Greek or nonGreek), divine status (god or hero), identity (Artemis or Hecate), and epithet (Soter or not); indeed any figure (human or divine) or entity capable of offering soteria might be called upon to save. It was the gods’ saving power and efficacy, not their name or personality, which mattered most to the ancient Greeks. By contrast to the Christian, eschatological notion of ‘salvation’ which did not develop until much later, soteria to the Greeks was strikingly this-worldly in nature. ‘Saviour’ gods and soteria in ancient Greece were almost without exception always concerned with immediate help, protection, deliverance, and well-being in this life.⁸ From what we have seen, soteria normally involved well-defined and short-term goals; it lacked permanence and had to be secured from the gods time and again. The appeal of ‘saviour’ gods lies in fact not in any miraculous power on their part to transform life or death once and for all, but precisely in their ability to respond to the most basic and personal needs of worshippers in everyday situations: good health, physical survival, economic security, safety on land and at sea, the well-being of crops and livestock, safe return home, and so on.⁹ The gods of Greek polytheism provided much-needed relief and practical help in the day-today problems of worshippers. To most ordinary Greeks, this pragmatic and downto-earth nature of soteria in the here-and-now must have been much more important than some remote promise for the future. ⁵ Some exceptions are e.g. Ares, Hestia, and Hephaestus. ⁶ e.g. Amphiararaus at Oropus in healing, Eileithyia in childbirth, the Dioscuri in seafaring. ⁷ IG II/III² 4357 = IG II/III³ 4, 673; IG IV².1 128.57–78. ⁸ To the best of my knowledge the only exception where soteria is used in connection with the afterlife is Pl. Phd. 107c–d, which is discussed in Jim (2017b), 266–9. ⁹ On personal needs in this life and after, see Burkert (1987), 12–29.

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Nevertheless, soteria did not necessarily relate to crises or emergencies. It was not limited to deliverance from an actual threat already encountered or an impending one, but could equally concern the preservation of existing wellbeing and the avoidance of potential troubles in normal circumstances. In the third century  when Artemidoros of Perge carved a rock-cut inscription in Thera in honour of Artemis Soteira of his home-city, who had promised him ninety years of life, he seems to have had in mind the goddess’s role as his preserver and protector in general, rather than deliverance from any specific danger encountered in his career as a military official.¹⁰ Yet this distinction between crisis-related and precautionary uses of Soter/Soteira and soteria is fluid and ceases to be important if we think of life as oscillating between risks and security. For this reason many thank-offerings which we have seen, while acknowledging soteria attained, were also made with a view to preserving the worshippers’ present and future well-being. Each of these offerings is an attempt to transform a momentary experience of divine saving into a more permanent relationship of interdependence between men and gods. Over time, the language of soteria became almost a cliché, and the epithet Soter became semi-standard for some divine and human figures in the Graeco-Roman world.¹¹ Yet neither the concept nor the gods lost their appeal and power. Many cults of divine ‘saviours’ persisted well into the Roman imperial period. As late as the fourth century , in the face of the rise of Christianity and growing tension between pagans and Christians, Libanius could still glorify Artemis in Antioch for having saved him ‘from the very gates of death’ when the collapsing frieze from the bouleuterion narrowly missed him.¹² Even after the legalization of Christianity in the Roman empire, both pagans and Christians could continue to use soteria in a this-worldly sense, even though Christianity had given the word a new aspect not previously associated with it in Greek tradition. So deeply ingrained is the earthly character of Greek soteria that, even when the concept was adopted and adapted in early Christianity, well-being in the here-and-now remained part and parcel of the Christian notion of soteria. The remarkably stable and persistent character of soteria for almost a millennium testifies to how deeply rooted the concept was in Graeco-Roman culture, how widely shared the concerns were across different religious groups, and how central and fundamental this blessing was in any relationship between humans beings and the divine.

¹⁰ IG XII.3 1350. ¹¹ Especially Asclepius Soter, Hecate Soteira, Hadrian as Zeus Olympios Soter in the Roman period. ¹² Lib. Or. 5.1 (μ᾽ ἐξ αὐτῶν τῶν τοῦ θανάτου πυλῶν ἐρρύσατο καὶ διέσωσεν), 45–53. This hymn in honour of Artemis is dated to 365 , that is, shortly after Emperor Julian reversed the Roman empire’s move towards Christianity and restored traditional Greek religion. Goldhill (2006) discusses brilliantly how Libanius appropriated this personal tale of divine ‘saving’ as an assertion of his Greek identity and a defence of traditional Greek culture. Cf. Simonides, who was similarly saved by the gods from a collapsing roof, as recounted in Cic. De or. 2.352–3, Quint. Inst. 11.2.13.

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APPENDIX I

Technical Use of εἰς σωτηρίαν τῆς πόλεως I discussed in Chapter 2 the customary practice of praying and sacrificing to the gods ‘for the health and soteria’ (ὑπερ ὑγιείας καὶ σωτηρίας or ἐφ᾽ ὑγιείαι καὶ σωτηρίαι) of the polis, as attested in innumerable inscriptions in the Greek world. This religious language, referring to prayers, has to be distinguished from the very similar formulae εἰς σωτηρίαν τῆς πόλεως, εἰς φυλακὴν τῆς πόλεως, εἰς φυλακὴν καὶ σωτηρίαν τῆς πόλεως, and their variants, which serve a very different purpose of defining the status of some decrees of the Greek states. These formulae appear in some thirty decrees coming from different parts of the Greek world, from the Greek mainland across the Aegean to Asia Minor, and ranging from the fourth century  to the Roman imperial period, and the majority curiously have no apparent connection with the safety or security of the city concerned.¹ One of the earliest examples is a fourth-century Athenian naval list concerning an expedition to found a colony in the Adriatic. After detailing the allocation of funds, ships, and equipment for the enterprise, the decree ends by stating that ‘if there is anything lacking in this decree about the dispatch, the council is to have authority to pass a decree, provided that it does not annul any of the measures decreed by the People. All this is to be for the defence of the country (ταῦτα δ᾽ εἶναι ἅπαντα εἰς φυλακὴν τῆς χώρας)’.² In this, as in other decrees bearing similar formulae, the subject matter usually has no direct bearing on the ‘protection’ or ‘defence’ of the city or its land. Nor do these decrees betray a consistent set of concerns or circumstances pertaining to the actual safety and security of the community. It seems likely that εἰς σωτηρίαν τῆς πόλεως or similar phrases were used originally in times of crises, where they had their usual, literal meaning, but later came to be used in a different, technical sense. The change in their use may be illuminated by a passage in The Athenian Constitution: in the run-up to the oligarchic revolt in Athens in 411 , the Athenians made the resolution that anyone who wished should be free to make and draft proposals for public safety (περὶ τῆς σωτηρίας) with impunity; the normal procedures of indictment for illegal proposals (graphe paranomon), impeachment (eisangelia), and judicial summon (prosklesis) were to be suspended, so that any Athenian who wished could give advice about the soteria of the polis when Athens was in a military and political crisis.³ Probably originating from this and similar uses of the phrase in situations of emergency, at some point περὶ τῆς σωτηρίας τῆς πόλεως (and its variants) came to be used in a technical sense to signify constitutional procedures not made explicit in Greek decrees, and not necessarily identical to the ones taken in Athens in 411.

¹ The decrees are collected and discussed in Gschnitzer (1983). ² RO 100.165–71 = IG II/III³ 1, 370 (tr. Rhodes and Osborne), with commentary. The earlier clause giving the council the right to supplement the assembly’s decision appears also (in a slightly varying formulation) in another fourth-century decree similarly containing the clause [ταῦτα δὲ εἶναι] εἰς φυλακὴν τῆς χώ[ρας] (IG II/III² 435 = IG II/III³ 1, 404). But it remains uncertain if the meaning of εἰς φυλακὴν τῆς χώρας is necessarily connected to the authority of the boule. ³ Arist. Ath. Pol. 29.2, 29.4, with commentary in Rhodes (2020), 374; cf. Thuc. 8.67 (without the word soteria). See also the occurrence of similar phrasing in other situations of crisis: Ar. Ecc. 396–7 (during the Corinthian War, 395–387/6), 401; Isae. 5.37–8 (Corinthian War); Isoc. 7.1 (after the end of the Social War in 355); Dem. De cor. 170, 248 (after the defeat at Chaeronea in 338).

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Gschnitzer has studied this group of inscriptions bearing these formulae, and suggested that they were used to place a decree in a superior category so that it would have priority in the event that other decrees conflicted with it.⁴ However, what remains unclear is the kind of priority or privilege these decrees were given, and in some cases, it is difficult to envisage a genuine need for priority.⁵ Focusing on Attic decrees, Rhodes thinks that the formula εἰς σωτηρίαν / περὶ σωτηρίας τῆς πόλεως is different from εἰς φυλακὴν τῆς χώρας / τῆς πόλεως. On the basis of the above passage in Ath. Pol., he thinks that περὶ σωτηρίας τῆς πόλεως in Athens provides for an open debate by removing some of the normal constitutional safeguards.⁶ This completely open probouleuma, in his view, belongs to the ‘deliberative’ stage before a decree is enacted, whereas εἰς φυλακήν applies to an enacted decree and places it in some privileged category.⁷ The ‘privilege’ or ‘priority’, according to Oliver, is perhaps financial in nature: εἰς φυλακήν probably concerns the finances and resources of the polis, and places the decree in a different category of expenditure.⁸ Nevertheless, not all decrees can be securely shown to have explicit financial implications. Nor is it clear how we should interpret the combined formula εἰς φυλακὴν καὶ σωτηρίαν in various non-Attic decrees if we follow Rhodes’s distinction between σωτηρία and φυλακή.⁹ We cannot assume that Athenian uses of the formulae necessarily represent those in other Greek states with different constitutions and constitutional procedures, and it seems possible that the formulae might signify different privileges and varying categories (if any) in different poleis. Despite the similar phraseology, the formulae do not necessarily have the same technical meaning across the Greek world.

⁴ Gschnitzer (1983). ⁵ e.g. I.Erythrai nos. 35–6 (honorific decrees), as noted by Rhodes and Lewis (1997), 523. ⁶ Rhodes compares this to the Romans’ de re publica, which would allow open discussion of any proposal for the public good: e.g. Livy 22.1.5; Varro ap. Gell. 14.7.9. ⁷ Rhodes (1972), 231–5; reiterated in Rhodes and Lewis (1997), 31, 522–3. However, a complication arises in that, apart from the literary examples cited in n. 3 above where εἰς σωτηρίαν / περὶ σωτηρίας τῆς πόλεως are interpreted literally in situations of crisis, the phrase does not in fact occur as a technical formula in Attic decrees. All five Attic decrees examined by Rhodes use the phrase εἰς φυλακήν (IG II/III³ 1, 370, 404, 1011; IG II/III² 1228, 1631), though one of them also carries the combined formulae εἰς φυλακὴν καὶ σωτηρίαν in its normal, literal meaning rather than a technical one (IG II/III³ 1, 1011, lines 17–18). It invites the Athenians ‘to make a monetary contribution [for the preservatio]n of the city and the protection of the country’ (ἐπιδιδό[ναι εἰς τὴν σωτηρία]ν τῆς πόλεως καὶ τὴν φυλακὴν τῆς χώρας). ⁸ Oliver (2007), 209–12. ⁹ e.g. IG XII Suppl. 200 (Paros); IG XII.7 509 (Heracleia); I.Delphinion 147 (Miletus); RPhil 63 (1937), 332–3, no. 7 (Chios); Syll.³ 742.15ff. (Ephesus); I.Kyme 12 (Kyme).

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APPENDIX II

Sozon In the Roman period we meet a new god Sozon (‘The saving one’) in various parts of Anatolia and to a lesser extent in Thrace.¹ His name appears to be the participle of the Greek verb σῴζειν (‘to save’). Although we have seen the participle form Σώζων (masculine) and Σώζουσα (feminine) sometimes used as an epithet for several gods and goddesses,² it is interesting in this case that an indigenous god acquired a Greek name. It is possible that a local deity with a non-Greek name was translated into Greek when exposed to Greek influence.³ But it is equally possible that, instead of starting as an indigenous god who later acquired a Greek name, Sozon was originally an epithet of some god, and the epithet later acquired autonomy and functioned independently as a theonym in itself. Both processes have been envisaged by modern historians, and no firm conclusion has been drawn.⁴ What is evident is that Sozon was closely associated with Apollo in several respects. Several dedications to Sozon were found in the sanctuaries of Apollo;⁵ and he is portrayed explicitly as Apollo on coins and on a relief.⁶ A votive marble plaque from Iconium, dedicated to Sozon by a Roman for his children, depicts a nude Apollo with unshorn hair holding a lyre in his left hand, below which is a snake.⁷ On altars Sozon is sometimes depicted in bust form with a radiant head, an attribute which connects him with the sungod Helios, with whom Apollo is often associated.⁸ Yet his representation as Apollo or with Apollo’s attributes remains rare; more often Sozon is depicted on horseback, an iconography applied also to various other gods in Anatolia who were very variously named.⁹ Therefore Sozon did not have a distinct iconography of his own, and cannot be securely identified where accompanying inscriptions explicitly referring to him are lacking. In most pieces of evidence the name Sozon stands alone as a theonym, but it can sometimes accompany the name of Apollo: at least three inscriptions refer to ‘Apollo Sozon’.¹⁰ On the first possibility raised earlier, Sozon might have started as an independent, indigenous figure who acquired a Greek name and who was then associated with the Greek god Apollo ¹ Anatolia: the evidence is collected in Weinreich (1969–79), vol. 2, 221–32 (= RE IIIA, 1248–56, s.v. Sozon), to which add Delemen (1999), 39–43, nos. 286–91; MAMA I, no. 8; I.Mus. Burdur, nos. 116, 180; SEG LXV 1462. Thrace: IGBulg III 1594, 1811; I.Thrake Aeg. E459. See also Roscher, Lex. IV, 1280–6, s.v. Sozon; LIMC VIII.1 Supplement s.v. Sozon. ² See references in Introduction, n. 72. ³ Scholarship is summarized in Delemen (1999), 40–2, to which add Horsley (2007), 101, quoting J. S. Sheldon, who postulates Sozon’s connection with a Zoroastrian divine being called Saošyant (Avestan) or Sūdōmand (Pahlavi), ‘the saving one (at the end of the world)’. ⁴ Parker (2017a), 89–90. ⁵ Bean (1962), nos. 7–8 = BE (1963), no. 253 (from the sanctuary of Apollo at Sura in Lycia); I.Mus. Burdur, nos. 181–2 = I.Pisid.Cen., nos. 104a, 104g (sanctuary of Apollo at Perminounda in Pisidia). ⁶ BMC Lydia, p. 156, no. 2, pl. XVII.1: a nude Apollo is depicted on the reverse of coins inscribed ΣΩΖΩΝ (Mastaura in Lydia, first century ). ⁷ Relief: I.Mus. Konya, no. 16 = LIMC II.1 s.v. Apollon, no. 485. ⁸ Radiant head: e.g. LIMC VIII.1 Supplement s.v. Sozon, no. 7; MAMA IX, no. 58. ⁹ On other rider-gods in Anatolia, see Delemen (1999). ¹⁰ Two in Thrace (IGBulg III 1594, I.Thrake Aeg. E459) and one in Sizma in Lycaonia (SEG VI 392). Note also I.Sultan Dağı, no. 44, which refers to ‘Letioides Sozon’.

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on the basis of certain similarities between them. It is not uncommon to find the juxtaposition between a Greek and a non-Greek god’s name and/or between a major god and a lesser one. The process being postulated here is similar to that for Zeus Ammon, except that, confusingly, here the indigenous god had already acquired a Greek name Sozon before being associated with Apollo. Accordingly ‘Apollo Sozon’ in Anatolia and Thrace should be interpreted differently from Apollo Soter whom we have encountered in earlier chapters in different parts of Greece, in which the component Soter is a functional epithet applied to Apollo to refer to ‘Apollo in his aspect as a saviour’. However, we cannot rule out the possibility that a different process is at work: Sozon might have originally been an epithet of Apollo (or some indigenous predecessor of Apollo), which became partially detached from the god and formed a separate figure. I have studied elsewhere the process by which the gods’ ‘saving’ function was so important that it became autonomous and functioned as an independent figure on its own (whether we call this a bare epithet or a freestanding theonym).¹¹ In the case of Sozon the precise process of formation and the origin of his name cannot be established with certainty; yet worshippers were probably not worried about Sozon’s name and status so long as he could ‘save’. The possibility raised earlier that the indigenous Sozon was assimilated to the nearest Greek god Apollo may find analogy in a phenomenon noted by Robert in Anatolia: the inhabitants of Zekeria Köy assimilated their rider-god to Ares, apparently to mark their god’s character as above all a warrior and as distinct in identity from that of another rider god similarly represented in other regions. Accordingly Robert reminded us that the association between an indigenous god with a Greek one can be revealing about the particular nature of the god which the local population wanted to emphasize.¹² If a similar process is at work behind Apollo Sozon, what common traits might the indigenous population or the newly arriving Greeks and Romans have seen in the Greek Apollo and the local Sozon? Whether the functional overlaps (if any) between Sozon and Apollo lay in their celestial power, solar character,¹³ or something else can only be guessed. Neither Sozon’s iconography (which is not distinctive) nor dedicatory inscriptions (which are unhelpfully brief ) reveal anything about his divine character. Many dedications to Sozon mention a vow, one was made hyper soterias, and another was brought by someone who might have been ‘saved’ (δι[ασωθείς] is restored),¹⁴ but nowhere do we see Sozon in the act of ‘saving’. Apart from any special power he might have had (if any), as a local deity he probably also oversaw the general well-being of the community and provided protection of a general kind to the rural population.

¹¹ Jim (2015). ¹² Robert (1946), 63ff. ¹³ In Anatolia both Sozon and Apollo could be depicted with a double-axe, which is often regarded as a celestial symbol: see Delemen (1999), 39, with n. 154. Solar character: see n. 8 above. ¹⁴ Drew-Bear (1976), no. 3 (hyper soterias); I.Sultan Dağı, no. 44 (δι[ασωθείς]).

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APPENDIX III

Hecate Soteira in Epitaphs In the Roman imperial period a group of six funeral inscriptions from Asia Minor speaks ambiguously of the deceased as having been ‘honoured’ by Hecate Soteira (see list at the end). Three of these epitaphs come from Cotiaeum in Phrygia (nos. 1, 4, 6), whereas the other three, whose provenance is unknown, are sometimes attributed to the surrounding area of the Upper Tembris Valley on the basis of the similar artistic style and unique formula (nos. 2, 3, 5) they share with the other tombstones in the dossier. These epitaphs typically record the name of the living in the nominative, the verb καθιερόω or less often ἀφιερόω (‘consecrate’), the name of the deceased in the accusative, who is qualified by the phrase τειμηθέντα ὑπὸ Σωτείρης Ἑκάτης.¹ An example is SEG XXIX 1696 (no. 5): Ἀμίας Μνένναν τὸν ἑαυτῆς ἄνδραν τιμηθένταν ὑπὸ Σωτίρης Ἑκάτης κατιέρω[σ]εν καὶ Ἀπο[λλωνι]ος καὶ Μάν[λ]ιος υἱοὶ α[ὐτοῦ]. The text is inscribed on a large marble stele decorated with relief on two registers: the upper panel depicts a triple-form Hecate holding a torch in each hand, flanked by Persephone (left), Demeter (right), and Helios (top); the lower panel shows the busts of two human beings, presumably Amias and her deceased husband. The iconographical style is shared by most other tombstones in this dossier, which were presumably produced in local workshops in Phrygia. The phrase τειμηθέντα ὑπὸ Σωτείρης Ἑκάτης is used in five of the six epitaphs, whereas in the remaining one (no. 4) it is omitted and replaced by the verb καθιερόω followed by the goddess in the dative case (κατεειέρωσεν Σωτίρῃ Ἑκάτῃ).² Hecate Soteira appears in all six epitaphs, but the same expression τειμηθέντα ὑπὸ θεοῦ or, less often, καθιέρωσαν τῷ θεῷ is also used occasionally in relation to Apollo, Zeus, and other gods in a number of other epitaphs from Phrygia.³ What role (if any) did Hecate Soteira play in the realm of the dead, and in what sense where these individuals ‘honoured’ by the goddess? To what extent does this constitute sufficient evidence that Hecate Soteira could confer ‘salvation’ in the afterlife? It is not uncommon to find the verb τιμάω (‘I honour’) used in the aorist active indicative in epitaphs of Roman imperial date in various parts of Asia Minor. Its subject is normally a family member (in the nominative) honouring the deceased (in the accusative),⁴ and in such uses the verb probably meant no more than paying tribute to and commemorating the dead. However, the meaning of τειμηθέντα ὑπὸ θεοῦ is enigmatic and has been variously interpreted. Long ago Keil and Premerstein suggested that those ¹ These are CIG 3827q; SEG XXIX 1696, LXI 1565 (= LXVI 1666), XL 1241; CMRDM I, no. 99; Keil– Premerstein, Lydien II, 143, no. 267. ² Interestingly, CMRDM I, no. 99 (no. 4) reverses the way the two verbs were used in the rest of this dossier: instead of being ‘honoured’ by Hecate and ‘consecrated’ by the living, here we find the living ‘honouring’ the deceased, who was ‘consecrated’ to the goddess. ³ Varinlioğlu (1990), no. 23 = SEG XL 1077 (provenance uncertain) (Διόδωρος κ(αὶ) Δανάη ἐσστεφάνωσαν τὸν ἑαυτῶν υἱὸν Ἀσκληπιάδην τὸν τειμηθένταν ὑπὸ Ἀπόλλωνος· καθειέρωσαν ἐτῶν θ0 ); Buckler and Calder (1925), 154, no. 40 (Cotiaeum) ([Ἀλ]έξανδρος Μητ[ρόφιλ]ον τὸν ἱερέα [τιμηθέντα] ὑπὸ Διὸς καθ[ιέρωσεν]). See also Benndorf and Niemann (1884–9), vol. 1, 128 (Acmonia) (Ἀρτέμων καὶ Τροφιμὴς [Ἀ]σκλᾶν τέκνον ἀπιέρωσαν Ἀπόλλωνι); and Steinepigramme 16/31/10 (Upper Tembris Valley) (see below). ⁴ e.g. SEG XXXIX 1299, 1301–4, 1310 (Lydia or Phrygia); SEG XLVIII 1430–5 (Lydia); RECAM II, 17, 19, 21, 51–2, 54 (Galatia). Note that this is also how ἐτίμησα is used in CMRDM I, no. 99 (no. 4).

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‘honoured’ by a god were buried at the expense of temple funds.⁵ However, this cannot be proved by any contextual information in our epitaphs, and the suggestion was rejected by Nock, according to whom ‘its sense must probably be “having received special grace from . . . .” The grace might be the reception of prophetic dreams, or other supernatural gifts.’ He went on to suggest examples of religious personnel gifted with ‘special grace’ and chosen by the gods in the Hellenistic East.⁶ Different again is de Hoz, who suggests that τειμηθέντα ὑπὸ θεοῦ implies ‘the divinization of the deceased or the immortality of the soul’. As to the other verb καθιερόω recurrent in our epitaphs, she argues that the deceased was ‘consecrated’ to the divinity in the sense that the grave was put under divine protection.⁷ This interpretation of καθιερόω appears to find support in the practice, attested especially in Phrygia, of invoking the daimones of Black Hecate to punish desecrators of graves. However, these curse inscriptions on tombstones do not specifically concern individuals ‘consecrated’ to or ‘honoured’ by Hecate.⁸ The fact that in one epitaph (no. 6) the couple were consecrated by their children while still alive (ἔτι ζῶσαν ἀπειέρωσαν) also makes the connection with the grave difficult.⁹ It seems more probable that these individuals were entrusted to the divinity in life and placed under divine protection. Alternatively, it is possible to see the deceased as having been ‘dedicated’ (καθιέρωσαν) in life to the divinity as his/her priest or priestess, as Varinlioğlu suggested, an interpretation related to that of Nock above.¹⁰ In Greek religion the verb καθιερόω traditionally applies to the dedication of objects (altars, other anathemata, land, etc.) to a god, and in the late Hellenistic and imperial periods it was extended to the consecration of living human beings to the service of a deity: like anathemata, these human beings could be considered the sacred property of the god. None of our six epitaphs indicates the background of the deceased, and whether they had served as the cultic personnel of Hecate. The deceased included both men and women, yet their gender is not helpful in this case, as Hecate provides an exception to the general trend that a goddess was normally served by priestesses. In fact male priests played a much more prominent role than priestesses did in various cults of Hecate.¹¹ Outside our dossier of epitaphs, only two individuals ‘consecrated’ to and ‘honoured’ by a divinity can be securely identified as having served as priests in life. One of these concerns a funeral inscription for a priest, discovered in Cotiaeum, plausibly restored to read [Ἀλ]έξανδρος Μητ[ρόφιλ]ον τὸν ἱερέα [τιμηθέντα] ὑπὸ Διὸς καθ[ιέρωσεν] (‘[Al]exandros con[secrated] Met[rophil]os the ⁵ Keil–Premerstein, Lydien I, no. 192, concerning a stele inscribed Ἔτους σ]μθ0 , μ(ηνὸς) Περ]ειτίου κ0 . Ὀνησίμην τὴν ἱέρειαν οἱ θεοὶ ἐτείμησαν ( 164/5). ⁶ Nock (1925), 100–1; see also Nock (1930a), 255 (255–6 in reprint), Nock (1930b), 51 (241 in reprint). Cf. SEG LXVI 1389, where the expression θεὸς ἐτείμα relates to divinatory skills. ⁷ De Hoz (1997), which studies the use of καθιερόω and related terms. ⁸ Strubbe, Arai Epitymbioi, nos. 181–2, 190, 204, 207, 222; collected on p. 288 (appendix II.1) of the same volume. See also Robert (1978b), 264–6 (720–2 in reprint). ⁹ Unless ἀφιερόω in no. 6 is not a variant of, but takes a different meaning from, the more common καθιερόω used in the other epitaphs. Sometimes καθιέρωσαν and ἀφιέρωσαν have the same meaning of consecrating a person to a god (whatever that may entail): e.g. compare κατεειέρωσεν σωτίρῃ Ἑκάτῃ in no. 4 and ἀπιέρωσαν Ἀπόλλωνι in SEG XL 1077, which appear to have the same meaning. However, sometimes both words are used in the same epitaph and appear to denote different things: e.g. in no. 2, καθιέρωσαν refers to the consecration of the deceased to the deity (whatever that may entail), whereas ἀφιέρωσαν seems to refer to the consecration, dedication, and/or financing of the funeral stele. ¹⁰ Varinlioğlu (1990), no. 23 = SEG XL 1077, concerning the epitaph of a 9-year-old boy ‘consecrated’ to and ‘honoured by Apollo’ (cited in n. 3 above). ¹¹ See SEG LVII 680 ( c.125–50) for an epitaph of a male ‘priest of Soteira Hecate’ from Tomis in Thrace. See also Laumonier (1938), esp. 253, 259–60; Laumonier (1958), 367ff.; Williamson (2014), on the cultic personnel in the cult of Hecate in Lagina, for which there is an abundance of epigraphic evidence.

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priest, [honoured] by Zeus’).¹² Much more elaborate is the epitaph of Epitynchanos, a high-priest (ἀρχιερεύς) and gifted prophet, who belonged to a priestly family in Phrygia. Discovered near Acmonia in the Upper Tembris Valley ( 313/4), his rectangular funeral altar, inscribed on three sides, takes a different style from our funeral stelai. The inscription tells us that he was ‘honoured first by Hecate, second by Manes Daos Heliodromos Zeus, and third by Phoebus Archegetes Chresmodotos’ (side A: τιμηθὶς ὑπὸ Ἑκατης πρώτης, δεύτερον ὑπὸ Μάνου Δάου [ἡ]λιοδρόμου Διός,¹³ τρίτον Φοίβου ἀρχηγέτο[υ] χρησμοδότου).¹⁴ These divinities are apparently referred to collectively as ‘the immortal gods’ (side B: τιμηθέντα ὑπὸ θεῶν ἀθανάτων). The text further tells us that Epitynchanos was ‘consecrated’ (καθιέρωσαν) by his family members, and that he had been initiated (μυηθίς) by the highpriestess Ispatale, ‘whom the immortal gods honoured (ἐτίμησαν) within the boundaries and beyond, for she freed many from evil tortures’. It is tempting to connect Epitynchanos’ ‘honoured’ (τιμηθίς) status with initiation into some Mysteries (μυηθίς), and to see in his title Athanatos (‘Immortal’, a title used also of his father and brothers) an allusion to immortality attained probably by initiation.¹⁵ Epitynchanos is the only one among those τιμηθέντας ὑπὸ θεῶν to refer to initiation in his epitaph, but we are not told which Mysteries and what benefits were involved.¹⁶ Whether or not he indeed attained immortality as has sometimes been postulated, claims to immortality were common in epitaphs in this period and cannot be securely linked to his special status of being ‘honoured’ by the gods. Epitynchanos and Alexandros are the only priests identifiable among those τιμηθέντας ὑπὸ θεῶν. In the remaining cases, the link postulated between priestly and ‘honoured’ status remains speculative and undemonstrable. Outside these Phrygian epitaphs for those τιμηθέντας ὑπὸ θεῶν, a funeral inscription from Mesembria in Thrace—a region which had close connections and cultural interactions with western Asia Minor—seems to associate Hecate with immortality of the soul. Written with the deceased woman speaking in the first person, the epitaph claims that Julia is ‘immortal and ageless’: ἐνθάδε ἐγὼ κεῖμε Ἑκάτη / θεὸς ὡς ἐσορᾷς· ἤμην τὸ / πάλαι βροτός, νῦν δὲ ἀθάνα/τος καὶ ἀγήρως· Ἰουλία Νεικίου / θυγάτηρ μεγαλήτορος ἀνδρός.¹⁷

¹² Buckler and Calder (1925), 154, no. 40, pl. 20; Pfuhl–Möbius, II, no. 2120, pl. 180. ¹³ This has been variously understood as a name of Zeus in the genitive by e.g. Mitchell (1993), vol. 2, 47, and de Hoz (1997), but as ‘Manes Daos, the Sun-Runner of Zeus’ by e.g. Cumont (1913), Chaniotis in EBGR (1997) [2000], no. 104, and Chuvin (2013). Merkelbach and Stauber (1999) and Steinepigramme 16/31/10 leave open both possibilities. ¹⁴ Steinepigramme 16/31/10 = SEG XLIII 943 B. The inscription is discussed in Cumont (1913), no. 136; Mitchell (1993), vol. 2, 46–7; Merkelbach and Stauber (1999); Hirschmann (2003); Chuvin (2013). ¹⁵ The relations between Epitynchanos’ title Athanatos and immortality has been postulated by Merkelbach and Stauber (1999) and Hirschmann (2003). Note also another inscription for Epitynchnos, SEG XLIII 943 C, which alludes to immortal life among the stars, with discussion in Waelkens (1984). ¹⁶ The κακαὶ βάσανοι from which Ispatale freed initiates have been variously interpreted. Cumont (1913), pp. 162–3: ‘le délivrance dont parle notre texte se rapporte aussi aux torments de la vie future’, and ‘dans ces mystères, on promettait de préserver les initiés des châtiments d’outre-tombe et de les faire parvenir à une vie bienheureuse en les identifiant avec les Immortels’. Cumont’s eschatological interpretation is criticized by Robert (1983), 584 n. 8, who suggested: ‘cette femme faisait des guérsisons miraculeuses; elle libérait des souffrances et des infirmités’. Cf. Mitchell (1993), vol. 2, 47 n. 274: ‘she had persuaded Christians who were threatened with torture in Maximinus’ prosecution to apostasize’. ¹⁷ IGBulg I² 345; Pfuhl–Möbius, II, no. 2088, pl. 301 (early imperial period); LIMC VI.1, s.v. Hekate, no. 325 = LIMC VI.1, s.v. Hekate (in Thracia), no. 5. Düll (1975), 118, thinks that ‘das Motiv der gesenkten Fackeln im ersten Bildfeld der Stele aus Mesambria stellt die Verbindung zum Totenreich her’.

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Here I lie, goddess Hecate, as you see. Formerly I was mortal, now I am immortal and ageless. Julia, daughter of Nicias, a great-hearted man. The central panel of the relief depicts Hecate holding two long torches accompanied by a girl and a woman, whereas the bottom one shows Hecate (or Julia?) in a chariot accompanied by two male figures. It is unclear in what role Hecate is here invoked: as the protectress of the grave and the deceased, as the divinity granting immortality, as the goddess to whom Julia was particularly beholden, or in some other capacity. One interpretation is that Julia might have been a priestess of Hecate, and that she was identified with the goddess when she died.¹⁸ However, neither position can be proved, and claims to immortality are common in epitaphs; we should be cautious about interpreting too readily references to immortality and to the gods as the (supposed) deification of the deceased. Even if the connection between Hecate and the afterlife can be established in some cases, this may or may not represent the character of Hecate Soteira in our epitaphs, and this may not necessarily be what is being referred to in Hecate’s epithet Soteira. It is noteworthy that in all six inscriptions the epithet Soteira precedes the divine name; the same word order is used also in two dedications to Soteira Hecate in Phrygia.¹⁹ That all the epigraphic attestations of Soteira Hecate in Phrygia should follow this word order may suggest that the epithet had become banal or routine for Hecate in this part of Asia Minor in the imperial period.²⁰ It might have been a habitual, though not invariable, way of referring to Hecate, and we need not see in it any connection with ‘salvation’ in the afterlife. The fact that the deceased could also be ‘honoured’ by Zeus, Apollo, Hecate, or the theoi athanatoi without the epithet Soter or Soteira may further suggest that the epithet is not essential for the gods to perform their function (if any, and whatever it might be) in a funereal context.²¹ Overall the evidence available for illuminating the problem is slight and inconclusive; the precise nature of Hecate Soteira in Phrygia and the meaning of τειμηθέντα ὑπὸ Σωτείρης Ἑκάτης remain far from clear. What seems evident is that we are dealing here with a local phenomenon in a micro-region of western Asia Minor, which is not necessarily the same as that elsewhere. Hecate’s character in these funerary inscriptions might well be different from that in other parts of Phrygia, and from other parts of the Greek world, both in the imperial period and earlier.²² Even if Hecate Soteira was, in this particular region of Phrygia, connected in some way with the dead, we cannot assume that the goddess necessarily had such associations when addressed under the same epithet in earlier times. In the absence of further evidence enlightening our understanding of these epitaphs, the link between Hecate’s epithet Soteira in Roman Phrygia and any eschatological hopes of ‘salvation’ remains hypothetical but undemonstrable.

¹⁸ Chiekova (2008), 170–1; cf. Lattimore (1942), 100, who took this as an example of ‘deification’ of the deceased. ¹⁹ Dedications: SEG XLIX 1808 (Ζεῦξις Σωτείρᾳ Ἑκάτῃ εὐχήν); SEG LVII 1343 (Ἀππης Σωτείρης Ἑκάτης ἵρηα εὐχὴν ἀνέθηκ̣ε ν). Note also the priest of Soteira Hecate in Tomis in Thrace in SEG LVII 680 (in n. 11 above). ²⁰ Cf. the numerous references to Soter Asclepius in the imperial period, which, as suggested in Chapter 4, probably point to a standard way of referring to Asclepius in this period. ²¹ Hecate without epithet: as in Epitynchanos’ epitaph, Steinepigramme 16/31/10, side A. ²² Compare the character of Hecate Soteira in Lagina in Caria, discussed in Chapters 2 and 4.

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Epitaphs Related to Hecate Soteira 1. CIG 3827q; Keil–Premerstein, Lydien II, p. 142; Pfuhl–Möbius, II, no. 2092 (no text); LIMC VI.1, s.v. Hekate, no. 329 (no date given, Cotiaeum): Ἀγαθῆ Τύχη. Σωτείρης Ἑκάτη[ς . . . ]μος καὶ Ἀφφη Δημοσθένη τὸν ἑαυτῶν υἱὸν τει[μη]θέντα ὑπὸ Σωτείρης Ἑκάτης κατειέρεσαν. Δημοσθένης πάτρως κ(αὶ) Ἀνεί[κητος] συνκατειέρωσαν. Τελεσφόρος [ . . . .]ρως συνκατειέ[ρωσεν.²³ With good fortune of Soteira Hecate. [ . . . ]mos and Appe consecrated their son Demosthenes, hon[ou]red by Soteira Hecate. Demosthenes the uncle and Anei[ketos] consecrated (this) together. Telesphoros [ . . . .]ros conse[crated] (this) together. 2. SEG XL 1241; Lochman (1990) ( c.200, unknown provenance: Upper Tembris Valley?): Ἀγαθῇ Τύχῃ Σωτείρης Ἑ|κάτης· Μένανδρος δα|ὴρ κὲ Κύριλα ἐνάτηρ, vacat | Πάπας υἱὸς, Απης νύνφη Τατ̣ε̣ιν k κ̣ὲ̣ Γ(λ)ύκωναν υἱὸν αὐτῆς {ε}τειμη|θέντας ὑπὸ Σωτείρης Ἑκάτη[ς]|κατε|ιέρωσαν,| κὲ Ὀνήσιkμος τε|θρεμέν|ος ἀπειέρ|ω|σεkν. With good fortune of Soteira Hecate. Menandros the brother-in-law, Kyrila the sister-in-law, Papas the son and (his) wife²⁴ Apes consecrated Tateis and her son Glykon, honoured by Soteira Hecate; and Onesimos the adopted son consecrated (this). 3. SEG LXI 1565; SEG LXVI 1666 ( c.200, unknown provenance: Upper Tembris Valley?): Τατεις Δαμᾶν τὸν ἑαυτῆς ἄνδρ[α]| τειμηθέντα ὑ[πὸ] Σωτείρης Ἑκά[της],| [Γ]άϊος καὶ Ἀλέξαν[δρ]ος τὸν ἑαυτῶν πα̣[τέρα – – –].²⁵ Tateis (consecrated) her husban[d] Damas, honoured b[y] Soteira Heca[te], [G]aios and Alexan[dr]os (consecrated) their fa[ther . . . ]. 4. CMRDM I, no. 99; Pfuhl–Möbius, II, no. 2089, pl. 300; Lochman in Berger (1990), vol. 3, 458–64, no. 258; LIMC VI.1, s.v. Hekate, no. 327 (third century , Cotiaeum or nearby) Ἄπψιον τὸν ἑαυτῆς σύνβιον Γάειον κατεειέρωσεν Σωτίρῃ Ἑκάτῃ καὶ Ἀπελλᾶς καὶ Γάειος ἐτείμησαν τοὺς ἑαυτῶν γονῖς μνήμης χάριν. Τειμέας Μουρματεανός.

²³ The text and supplements differ slightly in CIG and Keil–Premerstein, Lydien II; here I cite the text of Keil–Premerstein. ²⁴ Lochman (1990), n. 4, notes that νύνφη can signify ‘wife’ or ‘daughter-in-law’, and that the former is meant here. ²⁵ The text cited is that of SEG LXI 1565.

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Appsion consecrated her spouse Gaeios to Soteira Hecate; Apellas and Gaeios honoured their parents in their memory. Teimeas from Mourmateanos (consecrated this?). 5. SEG XXIX 1696; Pfuhl–Möbius, II, no. 2090, pl. 300; LIMC VI.1, s.v. Hekate, no. 328 (third century , unknown provenance) Ἀμίας Μνένναν τὸν ἑαυτῆς ἄνδραν τιμηθένταν ὑπὸ Σωτίρης Ἑκάτης κατιέρω[σ]εν καὶ Ἀπο[λλωνι]ος καὶ Μάν[λ]ιος υἱοὶ α[ὐτοῦ]. Amias consecrated her husband Mnennas, honoured by Soteira Hecate, Apo[lloni]os and Man[l]ios h[is] sons (consecrated this?). 6. Keil–Premerstein, Lydien II, no. 267; Pfuhl–Möbius, II, no. 2091, pl. 301; LIMC VI.1, s.v. Hekate, no. 326 (late imperial date, Cotiaeum): Τρόφιμος κὴ Σέκκτος τὸν πατέρα [Τρ]όφιμον κὴ τὴν μαιτέρα [Ἄμμιο]ν ἔτι ζῶσαν ἀπειέρωσαν τιμηθέντας ὑπὸ Σωτίρης Ἑκάτης. Trophimos and Sekktos consecrated their father [Tr]ophimos and their mother [Ammio]n (while their parents were) still alive, honoured by Soteira Hecate.

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APPENDIX IV

Salus and ‘Saviours’ in Roman Religion I mentioned in Chapter 4 that Greek ‘saviour’ gods are attested in Italy from at least the fourth century . There archaeologists have discovered in the town of Ruvo di Puglia in southern Italy a volume krater manufactured locally (c.350–340 ) and decorated with a comic face mask and an inscription ΔΙΟΣ ΣΩΤΗΡΟΣ (‘of Zeus Soter’) painted on its neck.¹ Zeus was the first Greek saviour god to arrive in Italy, and was followed by Athena Soteira in the third century , whereas others such as Artemis Soteira, Asclepius Soter, and Heracles Soter appeared later or at dates not clear to us.² Alongside these Greek figures, there existed many gods in the Roman pantheon who were sometimes designated as ‘saviour’, ‘protector’, and the like. Individual Romans could also be called ‘saviours’ informally in speech and more formally in honorific contexts. How, then, were ideas of ‘saviour’ expressed in the Roman world, and how readily translatable were similar ideas between Greek and Latin? Given the close contacts between Greece and Italy, to what extent were Roman cults of ‘saviours’ influenced by or dependent on the Greek?³ The Roman concept closest to the Greek soteria is salus (‘safety’, ‘well-being’, ‘deliverance’). It is just as polyvalent and difficult to translate as the Greek notion. The Romans offered sacrifices and dedications to the gods pro salute of themselves or others just as the Greeks did ὑπὲρ σωτήριας, and salus could refer to deliverance from dangers (real or potential), recovery from illness, personal well-being, physical survival, good health, safety, and so on.⁴ Like the Greek soteria, salus concerned this life rather than the next. In the Roman imperial period there are isolated instances where salus seems to have taken on an eschatological dimension; yet this aspect, even if present in isolated instances, was neither dominant nor even prominent in its normal usage.⁵ From at least the fourth century  this abstract concept of salus was paid cultic worship by the Romans. This is the well-known state cult of Salus in Rome.⁶ In 302 , to fulfil a vow made during the Second Samnite War (311 ) for the deliverance of the Roman state,⁷ C. Junius Bubulcus Brutus dedicated a temple to Salus on the Quirinal hill in Rome, which is also known as collis Salutaris. Like various public cults of saviour gods in Greece,⁸ this Roman cult commemorated a specific instance of divine saving of the Roman state during a military crisis, and it came to represent salus publica (public safety). What is different from the common Greek practice is that, instead of giving thanks and honours to a particular god or group of gods to whom collective deliverance was attributed, here the Romans deified

¹ CIG 8470C, BM Vase F548 (350–340 ). ² Athena: BMC Italy, 358, no. 7; Rutter (2001), 176, nos. 2258–61 (third century ). Eisityche: RICIS 504/0216 (first century ). Heracles: SEG XLVII 1517 (second century ). Asclepius: IG XIV 967A, 968 (second century ). Artemis: IG XIV 963 (undated). ³ I owe some of the examples discussed here to Oxé (1930). ⁴ On the concept of salus, see Le Glay (1982), Piccaluga (1982). ⁵ Controversial is the meaning of salus used three times in Apu. Met. 11.21 in the Mysteries of Isis: see discussion in Jim (2017b), 270–1, 277. ⁶ The cult of Salus in Rome has been extensively studied: e.g. Axtell (1907), 13–15; Fears (1981), esp. 859–74; Marwood (1988); Winkler (1995); Clark (2007), esp. 50–4, 165–6; Cattaneo (2011). ⁷ Livy 9.43.25, 10.1.9. ⁸ See Chapters 1 and 2.

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and paid cult to the abstract concept of salus itself. Under the Republic, regular vows were made to the goddess pro salute rei republicae on 1 January. Yet the public worship of salus may go back earlier than 302 : some scholars think that the concept might have received cult in some form in Rome from the Archaic period, and that Brutus’ temple might have been constructed on the site of an earlier shrine.⁹ Outside Rome, cults of Salus are widely attested in other Italian cities, such as Horta, Pisaurum, Praeneste, Herculaneum, Pompeii, Terracina, Venusia, and Ariminum. In his discussion of the cult of Salus, Fears wonders whether the Romans ‘simply adopted the Greek personification of safety’, or that ‘they themselves personified the religious concept inherent in the Greek festival of the soteria’.¹⁰ To what extent, then, was the worship of Salus in Rome and elsewhere a result of Greek influence? In both Greek and Roman religions, it is true, abstract concepts could receive cult, and soteria and salus are among the abstractions thus deified.¹¹ We know of two cults of Soteria in Achaea in the Peloponnese, one in Patrae and the other in Aegium.¹² The sanctuary in Patrae, so Pausanias tells us, had a stone image and was founded by the local hero Eurypylus when cured of his madness.¹³ His allusion to the mythical hero implies that the cult was of great antiquity, but its exact date remains difficult to pin down, as is that in Aegium, which had a sanctuary of Soteria with an image seen only by the priests.¹⁴ These two Achaean cults have often been linked by modern historians to a series of fourth-century coins issued in the Achaean colony of Metapontum in southern Italy. Their obverse shows the head of a female deity with ears of barley on her head, probably Kore or Demeter, and the legend ΣΩΤΗΡΙΑ. Does this refer to a cult of Demeter Soteira or Kore Soteira in Metapontum, the institution of a Σωτήρια festival in honour of the goddess, or the personification and worship of σωτηρία?¹⁵ The legend clearly reads ΣΩΤΗΡΙΑ rather than the epithet ΣΩΤΕΙΡΑ. It is unlikely to be a cult title considering that Demeter is not normally called Soteira,¹⁶ and also that there is no attestation of Demeter Soteira or Kore Soteira in Metapontum. Still less likely is it that these are coins issued for a Σωτήρια festival, as there is no evidence for a festival thus termed in honour of Demeter or Kore or other gods anywhere in Italy (unless this is one), and other legends ΗΥΓΙΕΙΑ and ΗΟΜΟΝΟΙΑ on

⁹ Wissowa (1912), 131–3; Wissowa (1909–15); Coarelli (1999), 230; Clark (2007), 52–3, with n. 72. However, Miano (2019) rejects Wissowa’s arguments for an early cult of Salus in an attempt to support his larger argument. ¹⁰ Fears (1981), 860, but he leaves the possibilities open. ¹¹ How this phenomenon should be termed in English has been debated. On the Greek phenomenon, see Deubner (1902–9), in Roscher, Lex. III.2, cols 2127–45 (Soteria at 2141); Shapiro (1993); Parker (1996), 228–37; Stafford (2000). On a similar phenomenon in Roman religion, see Deubner (1902–9), in Roscher, Lex. III.2, cols 2145–64; Clark (2007); Miano (2018). ¹² Paus. 7.21.7 (Patrae), 7.24.3 (Aegium). ¹³ On Eurypylus, see Paus. 7.19.6–20.1; Herbillon (1929), 153–6; LIMC IV.1, s.v. Eurypylos. ¹⁴ Paus. 7.24.3 further tells us that the priests in the cult at Aegium would throw cakes into the sea while saying that these were sent to Arethousa at Syracuse. Instead of supposing that ‘la même divinité était adorée à Aigion et à Syracuse’, as did Herbillon (1929), 154, the ritual may be explained by mythical links between the Peloponnese and Syracuse, and the role played by river Alpheus (whose mouth is the spring of Arethousa) in forging geographical ties between them: see recently Lewis (2020), ch. 1. ¹⁵ Höfer (1909–15b) interpreted this as evidence for Kore (or Demeter) Soteira in Metapontum. Fears (1981), 860, envisages all three possibilities. Miano (2019), 145, takes the legend Soteria as an epithet of Demeter. ¹⁶ The only attestation, under unusual circumstances, is IG XII.4 514 (see Chapter 3.10).

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similar coin types militate against the idea that these are names of festivals.¹⁷ It is tempting to think that the personified Soteria had spread from Achaea to its colony and is being represented on these coins. However, cults of Soteria were far from widespread in ancient Greece, and where attested in isolated instances, most of them lacked prominence and none had the same important civic status as Salus did in Rome from the little information that we have of them.¹⁸ A further possibility, hitherto not considered, is to take the legends as abstractions not deified or personified. There exist comparable Metapontine coin types depicting a similar (or the same?) goddess and bearing the legends ΗΥΓΙΕΙΑ and ΗΟΜΟΝΟΙΑ: might these be blessings prayed for from Metapontum’s goddess? That is, might the city be signifying its hope and/or gratitude for soteria, hygieia, and homonoia, for instance to mark a period of peace and harmony or to commemorate such hopes attained in a certain political context? The legends on these Metapontine coins remain open to interpretation, and the origin of the Roman worship of Salus cannot be determined with certainty, but any possible Greek influence via the supposed cult of Σωτηρία (if indeed there was one) in Metapontum seems slight and tenuous. Even if the Romans were aware of the Greek concept, they could have independently personified and paid cult to the Roman concept of salus. In the words of Cicero, Salus along with Ops, Concordia, Libertas, and Victoria are divinities named from the great benefits they bestow (ex magnis beneficiis), ‘for it was thought that whatever confers great utility (magnae utilitates) on the human race must be due to the operation of divine benevolence towards men’.¹⁹ These blessings were so important and powerful that they were considered worthy of cultic worship in their own right. The Romans set up altars and temples to these deities, and the practice was attacked vigorously by the Christian writers Arnobius and St. Augustine. Against the widespread pagan belief that these were divinities possessing divine power (vim habere divinam), Augustine argued that such benefits are not gods themselves but gifts of a god—in his view the true God.²⁰ Nevertheless, to many Greeks and Romans, the distinction between divine blessings and divinity must have been blurred and irrelevant. Despite the different levels of prominence attached to the worship of the abstraction soteria/salus in Greece and Italy, what is largely the same in Greek and Roman religions is the emphasis in some contexts on the blessing prayed for over the identity or personality of the deity. The cult of Salus aside, gods and goddesses in the Roman pantheon were sometimes addressed under various epithets bearing similar meanings to the Greek Soter/Soteira. How, then, did the Greeks and Romans refer to the ‘saviour’ gods of the other system? How readily translatable were saviour figures between the Greek and Roman pantheons? In the course of discussing famous sculptors in Greece, Pliny refers to the temple of Zeus Soter in the Piraeus as templum Iovis Servatoris.²¹ Polybius records how King Prusias II of Bithynia, on his visit to Rome (167/6 ), addressed the Roman senators as θεοὶ σωτῆρες (‘saviour gods’), and this is reported by Livy as di servatores sui.²² Although Polybius was using

¹⁷ Coins: BMC Italy, 244–5, 257, nos. 59 (Homonoia), 62 (Hygieia), 144 (Soteria); Head (1911), 77, 79; Noe (1984), nos. 411, 420, 449, with discussions at 60–1; Rutter (2001), 133–4, nos. 1516–17, 1523. ¹⁸ It is unclear whether the Achaean cult in Patrae, purportedly founded by Eurypylus, had a civic dimension, whereas the one in Aegium probably did, given its priests and sanctuary. Outside Achaea, an altar in Epidaurus (undated) inscribed with a single word Σωτηρίαι may suggest the private worship of the personified Soteria by an individual in hope and/or gratitude for soteria in the sense of good health. This appears in IG IV 1319 and IG IV².1 310 as Σωτηρίαι, but Peek in I.Epidauros Asklepieion, no. 133, thought that Σωτηρίας was on the stone. ¹⁹ Cic. Nat. D. 2.60–2 (tr. Loeb). ²⁰ Arn. Adv. Nat. 4.1; August. De civ. D. 4.17–24. ²¹ Pliny HN 34.74. ²² Polyb. 30.18.5; Livy 45.44.20.

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‘saviour gods’ generically rather than having particular gods in mind, the account in Livy still illustrates that the Greek Soter could be rendered by Servator in Latin. Nevertheless, outside these passages, the epithet Servator was in fact seldom used for Roman gods. Livy and Pliny probably choose the rare Servator instead of other possible translations such as conservator (see below) to give as literal a rendering as possible: as the Greek Soter has no prefix, these authors might be choosing a Latin form without any prefix in order best to reflect the Greek. Instead of Servator, it was much more common to designate Roman divinities as ‘saviour’ using other nouns and adjectives. The most frequent of these are conservator and conservatrix; also frequent are the related noun custos and the adjective salutaris.²³ Less common is the adjective salutifer (‘health-bringing’), used for instance of Apollo, Hercules, and the Nymphs.²⁴ Apollo is salutaris and he ‘who promises salus’ (qui salutem promittit).²⁵ Hercules is conservator, salutaris, and salutifer.²⁶ The most popular ‘saviour’ god in Roman religion is Jupiter. One dedication in the Roman colony of Apta Iulia is addressed ‘to Jupiter saviour of all things’ (Iovi conservatori omnium rerum), and another in the Italian city of Tuder ‘to Jupiter Best and Greatest, Protector, Saviour’ (Iovi opt(imo) max(imo) custodi conservatori), who, by revealing curses directed against the councillors, ‘freed the colony and citizens from fear of perils’ (metu periculorum coloniam civesque liberavit).²⁷ The form servatrix (feminine of servator) is attested of Minerva, Fortuna, and Proserpina.²⁸ These titles just mentioned are trans-divine epithets applicable to multiple gods and goddesses, but Servator is attested only of Jupiter,²⁹ and Sospita is specific to Juno (see below).³⁰ Sospitatrix (feminine of sospitator, from sospito ‘to preserve/defend’) was coined by Apuleius in the second century  to refer to Isis, who appears in Latin inscriptions as salutaris and restitutrix salutis (‘who gives/restores salus’).³¹ The agent noun salvator, along with the verb salvare (‘to save’) and the concept of salvatio (‘salvation’), did not exist in Classical Latin and only appeared later in Christian Latin literature.³² Many epithets in Latin can therefore express similar ideas to the Greek Soter/Soteira. The chronology for the adoption of these Roman epithets is difficult to establish, especially when it is not always possible to date their earliest attestations in inscriptions. It seems that the phenomenon of cult epithets was already embedded in Roman religion, though the possibility still exists that, when they came into increasing contact with the Greeks and with Greek gods called ‘saviours’, the Romans might have tried to express variously in Latin the Greek notion of Soter. The fact that ‘saving’ was such a broad and fundamental

²³ See RE IV.2, s.v. custos, I.A,2, s.v. salutaris, III.A,1, s.v. Soter; Roscher, Lex. IV, s.v. salutaris; TLL s.v. conservator, custos. ²⁴ AE (1920), no. 37 (Apollo); ILS 3437 (Hercules); CIL III 1397 (Nymph) (Dacia,  107–75). ²⁵ ILS 3224, 6037. ²⁶ ILS 3437, 3440, 3445, 3664, 7315. Note also a bilingual dedication in Rome (ILS 3466): it is addressed to Hercules defensor in the Latin original and Heracles alexikakos in the Greek. The same family also set up an altar to Silvanus (ILS 3467), who bore the epithet custos in the Latin text and φύλαξ in the Greek. ²⁷ ILS 3016, 3001. ²⁸ CIL II 145 (Proserpina), III 184 (Minerva), VII 296 (Fortuna). ²⁹ Germ. Arat. 410; Pliny HN 34.74. Germanicus’ Latin translation of Aratus’ Phaenomena has a reference to Servator Jupiter, but he was paraphrasing the Greek poem, which has Διός (line 426) without epithet. ³⁰ See n. 33 below. ³¹ Apul. Met. 11.9, 15, 25 (Isis Sospitatrix); RICIS 501/0151 (Isis Salutaris), 503/1118 (Isis regina, restitutrix salutis). ³² RE III.A,1, s.v. Soter, col. 1220; Oxtoby (1973), 17–18; Ernout and Meillet (1979), 591–2, s.v. salvus. But in the fourth century , Arn. Adv. Nat. 2.74 referred to Christ as sospitator nostri generis.

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function, one which was not peculiar to gods of a particular religion, must have facilitated its application to non-Greek gods: that could happen even without Greek influence, though Greek usage could have provided a stimulus for its adoption and translation in the Roman system. Possible Greek influence has been posited for the epithet Sospita. Juno is attested under this title in various cults in Italy, the most famous of which was at Lanuvium, where she was the chief goddess.³³ After Roman victory in the Latin Wars which ended in 338 , Juno’s sanctuary and temple at Lanuvium came to be shared with the Romans. From then on the worship of the goddess was integrated into the public rites observed by the Roman state. In 194  the goddess received a new temple in the Forum Holitorium in Rome in fulfilment of Gaius Cornelius’ vow three years earlier during the war against the Gauls.³⁴ About a century later, on the eve of the Social War, her temple (locality unclear but presumably the one in Rome) was restored in response to the dream of a Roman aristocratic woman. Each of these events was seen by later Roman authors as a conflict which had threatened the very existence of the state. Like the state cult of Salus discussed earlier, therefore, the cult of Juno Sospita was closely linked to the deliverance of Rome from highly threatening military conflicts. However, the goddess’s original title at Lanuvium was Sispes; its meaning remains obscure and disputed, and it is unclear if it had any connection with ‘saving’. It seems that the full name of the Lanuvian goddess was Juno Sispes Mater Regina, as attested in full in a dedicatory inscription of Republican date addressed ‘to Juno Seispita Mater Regina’ (Iunone Seispitei matri reginae), and in the abbreviation I.S.M.R. in other inscriptions and on coins from Lanuvium.³⁵ The more widely used Sospita in literary sources appears to be a variant arising from later attempts to link it to the Greek Soter and sozein. According to the Roman grammarian Festus, ‘the ancients used to speak of Juno Sispes, now generally called Sospes, as it seems that this word was taken from Greek, which is σώζειν’ (Sispitem Iunonem, quam vulgo sospitem appellant, antiqui usurpabant, cum ea vox ex Graeco videatur sumpta, quod est σώζειν).³⁶ The adjective sospes means ‘safe and sound’ (intransitive), and its cognate verb sospito ‘to preserve/save/defend’. Whatever the etymological relations between sispes/sispita and sospes/sospita, Fest’s statement shows the awareness of the grammarian, and probably among learned circles, of the possible links between Juno’s epithet and the Greek words Soter/Soteira/sozein, though it is a lot less clear if ordinary Romans were also aware of it. The Greek practice of referring to living human beings as ‘saviour’, ‘protector’, and the like, using some of the same terms applied to the gods, sometimes caused trouble when rendered into Latin. An interesting case is a bilingual inscription on the Quirinal hill at Rome, commemorating the help rendered by the Romans to the people of Laodicea ad Lycum during the First Mithridatic War.³⁷ In return for their arete and goodwill, the Laodiceans honoured the demos of the Romans as their ‘saviour and benefactor’. Though ³³ Juno Sospita: Cic. Nat. D. 1.82, Div. 1.4; Livy 8.14.2, 22.1.7, 23.31.15; Apul. Met. 6.4. ³⁴ Latin War: Livy 8.14.2; cf. Cic. Mur. 90. Gallic War: Livy 32.30.10, cf. 34.53.3, where the temple is (by error) referred to as belonging to Juno Matuta. Social War: Cic. Div. 1.4, 1.99; [Livy], Julius Obsequens 55; with Schultz (2006a). ³⁵ CIL I² 1430 = ILS 3097 = ILLRP 170. Cf. ILS 316, 5683, 6196, where the goddess is referred to in abbreviated form as I.S.M.R. Coins: Sydenham (1952), 84, no. 598. ³⁶ Fest. 462L; see also 389L: Sospes, salvus: Ennius tamen Sospitem pro Servatore posuit (‘Sospes means “safe”. Ennius, however, uses Sospes for Servator’). Discussed in Palmer (1974), 30–1; Ernout and Meillet (1979), 638 s.v. sospes; Schultz (2006b), 22–3, with n. 11. See in particular Harmon (1986), 1968–70, on the character of the Lanuvian Juno and the complex etymological problems concerning sispes and sospes. ³⁷ IGUR I 6 = ILLRP 177 = CIL VI 374; App. Mith. 20; Strabo 12.8.16, 578.

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σωτὴρ καὶ εὐεργέτης in the Greek version is a customary formula in Greek honorific language, the Laodiceans or their translators seem to have struggled to find exact equivalents for the two agent nouns in Latin, and paraphrased them for the Roman audience as follows: quei sibei salutei fuit, benefici ergo, quae sibei benigne fecit, literally ‘(the people) who were a salvation to them, on account of their benefaction, the things they did kindly to them’. The difficulty in rendering the Greek Soter in Latin is noted also by Cicero. When prosecuting Gaius Verres, the governor of Sicily, Cicero cites an inscription he saw in Syracuse which, ironically, describes Verres ‘as not merely the island’s advocate but also as its Soter’. Cicero goes on to say ‘And what does this word mean? It means so much that it cannot be rendered by any single Latin word; Soter in fact signifies “the giver of deliverance” (qui salutem dedit)’.³⁸ Both the Laodiceans and Cicero paraphrased Soter with a phrase containing the abstraction salus (‘safety’, ‘well-being’, ‘deliverance’), which we saw at the beginning. But the same word could in fact also serve as an agent noun referring to a living human being as a ‘means of deliverance’ or a ‘saviour’. By prosecuting Verres, Cicero was himself greeted as salus (‘saviour’) by a bereaved mother whose son had been executed by Verres.³⁹ Even before Cicero’s time, salus and the expression mea salus were already used in the comedy of Plautus in informal addresses to human beings without any cultic implications, in much the same way that soter was in various passages in Aristophanes.⁴⁰ Other Latin expressions used similarly with reference to human beings are conservator, custos, and servator.⁴¹ Apart from non-royal individuals and Roman officials, Roman emperors were frequently referred to as ‘saviours’ in the Greek-speaking part of the Roman empire, as mentioned towards the end of Chapter 5. Augustus, Tiberius, Claudius, Nero, and Hadrian, among others, all received the Greek epithet Soter.⁴² When extending the practice of honouring Hellenistic kings as ‘saviours’ to their new Roman masters, the Greeks sometimes went a step further by referring to the emperors in such hyperbolical expressions as ‘saviour of the world’ (σωτὴρ τῆς οἰκουμένης), ‘saviour of the universe’ (ὁ σωτὴρ τοῦ κόσμου), and ‘saviour of all people’ (σωτὴρ πάντων ἀνθρώπων).⁴³ Similar ideas are expressed by Roman authors using various terms discussed earlier. Augustus is glorified in Latin literature as ‘saviour of the world’ (mundi servator), ‘founder and preserver’ (conditor conservatorque, which may reflect the Greek κτίστης καὶ σωτήρ), and ‘best guardian of Romulus’ people’ (optime Romulae custos gentis).⁴⁴ The various phenomena discussed so far were all familiar practices to the Greeks. What was without parallel in the Greek world, however, is the Roman perception that the

³⁸ Cic. Verr. 2.2.154 (tr. Loeb). As Miano (2019), 146–7, notes, it is not the case that Cicero does not know the possible Latin translation of the Greek soter as salus, which he uses elsewhere (see the following note), but that he chooses to emphasize the difficulty of translating it for rhetorical purposes. ³⁹ Cic. Verr. 2.5.129 (et ita me suam salutem appellans). Apart from salus, Cicero also used custos, conservator, and servator to refer to human beings as ‘saviour’: e.g. Cic. Cat. 3.24 (custos huius urbis); Flac. 60 (conservator Asiae); Planc. 102 (mei servator capitis); Sest. 37 (mei defensores et conservatores), 146 (conservator patriae). Divine saviours: Cic. Sest. 53 (pro di immortales, custodes et conservatores huius urbis atque imperi). ⁴⁰ e.g. Plaut. Asin. 656, Bacch. 879–80, Cist. 644. Aristophanes: see Chapter 1. ⁴¹ See TLL s.v. conservator, custos; Oxé (1930), 39–44. ⁴² Augustus: IGR IV 200; I.Ilion 81–2; Tiberius: IGR III 721; Claudius: see Scramuzza (1940), esp. 264–5; Nero: OGIS 668; Hadrian: see the following note. ⁴³ e.g. Cook, Troad, 400, no. 14 (Claudius as σωτὴρ τοῦ συνπάμπαντος [ἀνθρώ]πων γένους); OGIS 668.5 (Nero as σωτὴρ καὶ εὐεργέτης τῆς οἰκουμένης); IG II/III² 3293, 3384, IG XII.3 1396 (Hadrian as σωτὴρ τοῦ κόσμου). ⁴⁴ Prop. 4.6.37; Vell. Pat. 2.60.1; Hor. Carm. 4.5.1.

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emperor was the source of salus himself, and the salus of the emperor became the object of worship. When it came to the cultic worship of emperors, whereas the Greeks would honour their monarchs under the cult title of Soter, the Romans would pay cult to the Salus of their emperors rather than the emperors themselves. This is partly because, contrary to Greek religion, Roman emperors were not deified until after death, and paying cult to their deified quality was a way of recognizing the living rulers’ status as more than human but without implying that they were divine.⁴⁵ We have seen that, from at least 302 , the concept of salus publica was closely associated with the state cult of Salus in Rome. In the imperial period, however, the abstraction salus came to be attached to the Roman emperor by adding to it the genitive Augusti/Augustorum or the adjective Augustus/Augusta (meaning ‘august’ or ‘imperial’, and not specific to the first emperor Augustus).⁴⁶ Along with Fortuna, Victoria, Pax, Concordia, Felicitas, and so on, Salus was one of the deified abstractions associated with the emperor, and these ‘virtues’ of emperors could receive cult, dedication, and temples in their own right. The commonest view among moderns is to see Salus Augusti as a divine companion or guardian deity looking over the emperor like his genius or comes. However, as Wallace-Hadrill puts it, Salus Augusti was not just the safety of the ruler, but the saving power that flowed from him.⁴⁷ The divine quality salus found earthly expression in the emperor, who was imbued with the power to save. The adjectival form Salus Augusta, on the other hand, is more ambiguous and elusive. The precise relation between the concept and the emperor is left unspecified, so that there was much scope for interpretation, and probably no consensus existed among the Romans.⁴⁸ If this phenomenon was different from established Greek practices, how, then, did the Greeks try to accommodate and express this Roman idea? An inscription from Alabanda in Caria is particularly interesting in this respect. It honours, rather curiously, the hereditary priest ‘of Hygieia and Soteria of the Emperor and of Helios’ (ἱερεὺς διὰ γένους Ὑγιείας τε καὶ Σωτηρίας Αὐτοκράτορος Καίσαρος καὶ Ἡλίου).⁴⁹ Both the language and idea are extraordinary and without parallel in ancient Greece. We have seen the common Greek practice of praying for health and soteria of monarchs, but a Greek cult of the ‘health and soteria of the emperor’ is unique. This seems to be an interpretatio Graeca of the cult of Salus Augusti/ Augusta. It is probable that, being unfamiliar with the Roman practice of worshipping the salus of the emperor, the Greeks in Caria paraphrased the Latin expression Salus Augusti/ Augusta awkwardly in Greek. The unique formula appears to be a hybrid of two different phenomena—it seems to be trying to capture both the Roman idea and the traditional Greek prayer ὑπερ ὑγιείας καὶ σωτηρίας of rulers at once, so that it may not seem too at odds with conventional religious practice among the Greeks. Whether the viewers would understand this as a cult intended for the health and safety of the emperor, or a cult worshipping the ‘saving’ quality inherent in the emperor, is hard for us to tell. More ambiguous still is the status of the emperor as human and/or divine. The expression is likely to have been

⁴⁵ See Price (1984b), 75ff. The differences are discussed in Fishwick (1987–), vol. II.1, 456–58. ⁴⁶ The phenomenon has been variously labelled in modern scholarship: see discussion in Fears (1981), 830–3; Fishwick (1987–), vol. II.1, 459–60. ⁴⁷ Wallace-Hadrill (1981), 309. ⁴⁸ Fears (1981), 886–7 (with bibliography in n. 284) and Fishwick (1987–), vol. II.1, 463 consider Salus Augusti and Salus Augusta the same. However, others consider them as different: e.g. Mattingly (1960), 160; Gradel (2002), 103–5. ⁴⁹ Laumonier (1934), 300–4, no. 3. He explained the presence of Helios as one of the traces of the persistent influence of Rhodes.

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read differently by the Greeks and Romans; each group could identify with it but might interpret it in their own terms. If this is indeed what the peculiar phrase was trying to convey, it would be a wonderful case of the fusion of old and new, Greek and Roman, and another example where the malleable notion of soteria lent itself to adaptation in a new political context.

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Wiegand, T. (1904), ‘Reisen in Mysien’, MDAI(A) 29, 254–339. Wieland, G. M. (2006), The Significance of Salvation (Carlisle). Wilcken, U. (1913), ‘Papyrus-Urjunden’, ArchPF 5, 198–200. Wilkins, J. (1990), ‘The Young of Athens. Religion and Society in Herakleidai of Euripides’, CQ 85, 329–39. Wilkins, J. (1993), Euripides: Heraclidae (Oxford). Will, É. (1979–82), Histoire politique du monde hellénistique (323–30 av. J.-C.), 2 vols (2nd edn, Nancy). Willcock, M. M. (1978), The Iliad of Homer: Books I–XII (Basingstoke). Willi, A. (2003), The Languages of Aristophanes (Oxford). Williamson, C. G. (2014), ‘Civic Producers at Stratonikeia: The Priesthoods of Hekate at Lagina and Zeus at Panamara’, in M. Horster and A. Klöckner (eds) (2014), Cities and Priests (Boston), 209–45. Willoughby, H. R. (1929), Pagan Regeneration (Chicago). Winkler, L. (1995), Salus: vom Staatskult zur politischen Idee (Heidelberg). Winter, P. (1954), ‘Magnificat and Benedictus—Maccabean Psalms?’, BJRL 37, 328–47. Wissowa, G. (1909–15), ‘Salus’, in W. H. Roscher (ed.) (1909–15), Ausführliches Lexikon der griechischen und römischen Mythologie, vol. IV, cols 295–301. Wissowa, G. (1912), Religion und Kultus der Römer (2nd edn, Munich). Woodhead, A. G. (1981), ‘Athens and Demetrios Polioketes at the End of the Fourth Century B.C.’, in Ancient Macedonian Studies in Honor of Charles F. Edson (Thessaloniki), 357–67. Wörrle, M. (2000), ‘Pergamon um 133 v. Chr.’, Chiron 30, 543–76. Worthington, I. (2016a), ‘Ptolemy I as Soter: The Silence of Epigraphy and the Case of Egypt’, ZPE 198, 128–30. Worthington, I. (2016b), Ptolemy I (New York; Oxford). Wycherley, R. E. (1957), Athenian Agora III. Literary and Epigraphical Testimonia (Princeton). Zagdoun, M. A. and Gondicas, D. (1988), ‘Eurypylos’, in LIMC IV.1, 109–11. Zelnick-Abramovitz, R. (2005), Not Wholly Free (Leiden). Ziehen, L. (1938), ‘Φερεφάττια’, in Paulys Real-Encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft XIX,2, cols 2035–7. Zografou, A. (2005), ‘Les Phôsphoroi et le Tholos d’Athènes’, in N. Belayche et al. (2005), Nommer les dieux (Turnhout), 531–42. Zografou, A. (2010), Chemins d’Hécate: Portes, routes, carrefours et autres figures de l’entredeux (Liège).

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Index of Sources I. Literary Texts Ael. NA 10.49 142 11.9 87 Aesch. Ag. 88–90 48 160–3 236 n. 4 244–7 29 343 32 512 33 n. 51 618 32 n. 45 646 33 n. 50 664 33 n. 51, 72 n. 119, 136 n. 40 976 51 n. 30 1238 32 1386–7 29 Cho. 2 33 n. 51, 139 n. 42 203 32 n. 47 236 32 n. 47, 33 n. 50 264 32 n. 47, 39 n. 83 505 32 n. 47, 33 n. 50 1073 29 Epigoni fr. 55.4 Radt 29 Eum. 661 32 n. 47 701 33 n. 50 759–60 29 909 32 n. 47 1001–2 47 n. 10 Pers. 508 32, 43 735 32, 43 737 32 n. 45 797 32, 43 Sept. 69 48 n. 16 88–90 48 109 48 128–57 48 183 33 185 48 n. 16 209 32 n. 47 271–2 48

312 22 n. 87 449–50 51 520 33 n. 51 822 22 n. 87, 48 n. 15 Supp. 26 29, 44 n. 111 93–5 9 n. 32 213 33 407 33 n. 50 417 33 n. 50 765 33 n. 50 980 44 n. 110 980–2 33 Alcaeus fr. 34 28, 90, 156 Alexis fr. 116 K.–A. 176, 195 n. 142 fr. 234 K.–A. 7, 145 Ammianus Marc. 23.6.69 197 Antiphanes fr. 81 175–6, 195 Anth. Pal. 5.11 91 n. 55 6.50 52 6.146 107 n. 119 6.157 108 6.191 100 n. 94 6.200 107 n. 119 6.202 106 6.216 20 n. 75 6.221 235 n. 1 6.231 100 n. 94 6.267 59, 108 6.242 106 6.270 107 n. 119 6.272 106 6.273 106 6.274 106–7 6.300 100 n. 94 6.301 99 n. 94 9.143 91 n. 55 9.144 157 n. 113 9.303 106 n. 117 9.424 72

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Anth. Pal. (cont.) 9.601 91–2 10.21 12 n. 45, 92 n. 56 Apollod. Bibl. 1.2.1 109 n. 136 Apoll. Rh. 1.916–21 Σ 1.917b Σ 1.918a Σ 1.918e App. Mith. 20 75 Syr. 47 57 67

91 n. 54 91 n. 54, 156 n. 110 91 n. 54 91 n. 54

253 76 198–9 197 n. 150, 235 n. 2 199

Apul. Met. 11.9 136 n. 34 11.15 136 n. 34 11.21 249 n. 5 11.25 136 n. 34 Ar. Ach. 682 153 n. 101 Av. 545 39 554–5 39 n. 82 586ff. 6 731–4 6 878–80 46 n. 1, 73 1061–71 6 1118 74 Ecc. 396–7 38 n. 78, 239 n. 3 412–17 100 1045 40 n. 88 Eq. 13 38 149 38 581 22 n. 87 581–5 47 Σ 1151 42 n. 101 Σ 1253 a–b 68 n. 98 Lys. 30–1 38 41 38 n. 77 46 38 n. 77 345 47 n. 9 497–9 38 n. 77 525 38 n. 77 1144 38 n. 77

Nub. 77 39 n. 86 601–2 22 n. 87, 47 n. 9 1161–2 39 1177 39 n. 86 Pax ΣVΓ 277b 156 n. 110 ΣVΓ 278 91 n. 54 292–4 38 n. 76 301 38 866–9 39 n. 84 915 39 1036 39 n. 84 Plut. 130ff. 100 1178–84 44, 80, 100, 111, 144, 145 Ran. 378–81 50, 123, 162 1419 38 1435–6 38 1501 38 n. 78 Thesm. 946 40 n. 88 1009 40 1136–42 47 Vesp. 369 40 393 40 875 51 n. 31 Arist. Ath. Pol. 11.2 44 n. 110 29.2 239 29.4 239 Aristid. Or. 4.28–9 Keil 216 n. 16 20.23 Keil 153 37.28 Keil 12 n. 43 38.480 p. 715 Dindorf = 9.14 Behr 170 n. 22 40.12 Keil 154 45.23 Keil 109 n. 136 46.1 Keil 153 n. 99 46.8 Keil 109 n. 136 46.9–16 Keil 154 46.18 Keil 27 n. 19 47.1 Keil 117 47.66 Keil 117 47.78 Keil 117 48.7 Keil 117 48.12–14 Keil 92 n. 59, 115 n. 159, 117 48.37 Keil 117 48.40 Keil 117 49.7 Keil 117 49.38–41 Keil 71, 117

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   50.4 Keil 117 50.9 Keil 117 50.32–7 Keil 90 50.38 Keil 117 Arn. Adv. Nat. 2.74 252 n. 32 4.1 251 Arr. Anab. 1.4.5 88 n. 34 6.11.8 184 n. 89 6.19.4–5 5 n. 13, 235 n. 1 7.20.3–4 87 n. 29 Indica 20.10 5 n. 13, 235 n. 1 21.2 5 n. 13, 235 n. 1 36.3 19 n. 74, 88 n. 34, 153 n. 99 Artem. 2.37 92 n. 56, 156 n. 107 2.39 98 n. 85

1.81 11 n. 40, 56 1.99 253 n. 34 Flac. 60 254 Mur. 90 253 n. 34 Nat. D. 1.82 253 n. 33 2.60–2 251 3.89 72 Planc. 102 254 Sest. 37 254 53 254 146 254 Ver. 2.5.129 254 2.5.154 254

Ath. 6.253b–f 177 6.254a 176, 195 n. 142 6.254f–255a 195 7.318d 157 n. 113, 192 10.423c 176, 195 n. 142 15.16a–203b 188 n. 105 15.675f–676c 91, 157 n. 113 15.692f–693f 29 n. 28 15.693a 7, 145 15.696f–697a 184

Clem. Al. Protr. 2.22 232 5.54.5 170 n. 22

August. De. civ. D. 4.17–24 251

Demochares FGrH 75 F 2 177

Callim. Epigr. 5 12 n. 45, 92 n. 56 Galatea fr. 378–9 11 n. 40, 56 Hymn 3 20–3 107 n. 120 Hymn 4 171ff. 11 n. 40, 56 Callixenius FGrH 627 F 2 188 n. 105 Cic. Cat. 3.24 254 n. 39 De or. 2.352–3 238 n. 12 Div. 1.4 253 n. 33 1.37 11 n. 40, 56

Curt. 4.7.14 68 n. 99 9.5.21 184 n. 89 Dem. 18.170 239 n. 3 18.248 239 n. 3 43.66 89 n. 41

Diod. Sic. 3.14.6–15.1 94 n. 73 3.32–5 94 n. 73 4.43.1–2 91 n. 54, 217 4.48.5–7 91 n. 54, 217 4.61–3 68 5.49.5 156 n. 110 11.26.6 168, 202 n. 180 11.29 52 n. 34, 53 n. 37 13.102.2 88 n. 34 16.10.3 168 16.11.1–2 169 16.20.5–6 169, 202 n. 180 16.61.1–4 173 16.92.5 170 n. 22 16.95.1 170 n. 22 17.49 68 n. 99 19.61.1–4 207 19.62.1 206–7 19.74–5 207

289

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Diod. Sic. (cont.) 19.105.1 207 20.46.1–2 173–4, 177 20.46.5 207 20.82ff. 184 20.84.1 184 20.92.2 185 20.93.6–7 176, 177 20.100.6 207 20.102–3 174 n. 38 22.9 11 n. 40, 56 Diog. Laert. 2.142 181 n. 71 5.16 12 n. 42, 120 n. 7, 123 n. 19, 129 n. 31 6.59 72 Etym. Magn. s.v. Ἐλεύθερος 36 n. 68 Duris FGrH 76 F 13 177 FGrH 76 F 71 170 n. 19 Eupolis fr. 246 K.–A. 73 n. 121 Eur. And. 900 22 n. 87 Bacch. 275–6 236 n. 4 Erechtheus fr. 360 Kannicht 42 n. 102 Hec. 303–5 42 n. 102 Hel. 1055 41 n. 97 1291 41 n. 97 Heracl. 349–50 51 n. 29 402 41 n. 97, 42 586–9 42, 141 n. 52 588 9 n. 33 1032–5 42 n. 102 1045 41 n. 97 HF 48 41 n. 98, 122 54 41 n. 97 62 9 n. 32 304 41 n. 97 520–2 122 531–2 28 n. 21, 59 n. 60 922–7 122 1222 28 n. 21 1336 41 n. 97 IA 1420 42 n. 102

1440 41 n. 93 1472 41 n. 97, 42 n. 102 IT 475–8 9 n. 32 487 41 n. 97 593–4 41 n. 97 1413 41 n. 97 Med. 14–15 9 n. 31 482 28 n. 21, 59 n. 60 Or. 678 41 n. 97 778 41 n. 97 1173 41 n. 97 Phoen. 890 42 n. 102 893 41 n. 97, 42 n. 102 898 41 n. 97 Temenidai fr. 729 Kannicht 41 n. 97 Incert. fab. fr. 946 Kannicht 17 n. 64 Euseb. Chron. 2.120 Schöne 181 De laudibus Constantini 9 233 n. 119 Vit. Const. 3.56 232–3 Eust. Il. 5.408 p. 110 van der Valk 139 n. 43 Fest. 389L 253 n. 36 426L 253 Firm. Mat. Err. prof. rel. 22.1 233 Gorgo FGrH 515 F 19 184 Gow–Page, GP Adaeus VIII 106 n. 117 Antipater XCIII 91 n. 55 Crinagoras IX 106 Philip XXI 100 n. 94 Philodemus XV 12 n. 45 Gow–Page, HE Anyte XV 157 n. 113 Callimchus XXIII 107 n. 119 Callimachus XXVIII 99 n. 94 Diotimus I 59 n. 61, 108 Duris I 72–3 Leonidas I 106

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   Leonidas III 235 n. 1 Leonidas XXXVI 100 n. 94 Leonidas XXXVIII 107 n. 119 Nicias III 107 n. 119 Perses II 106 Perses III 106–7 Posidippus XI 10 n. 34 Posidippus XII 192 n. 127 Posidippus XIII 157 n. 113, 192 Theodoridas III 108 Harp. s.v. Ἐλευθέριος Ζεύς 36 n. 68, 112 Hdt. 1.160 47 n. 11 2.137–8 136 n. 37 3.142 37 n. 70 4.33–5 107 n. 123 4.97.6 32 n. 43, 43 n. 106 4.98.3 31 n. 38 4.103 60 n. 68 5.98.2 31 5.119.2 31 6.19.1 31 n. 38 6.19.1–2 31–2 6.104.2 31 n. 38 6.111.2 46 n. 2 7.139 33 n. 53, 39 n. 83 7.172.3 31 n. 38 7.178 30 7.188–192 29–30, 126, 151 7.192 8, 29–30, 37, 43, 44 n. 111, 70 n. 108, 88, 140 n. 44 7.230 32 n. 43, 43 n. 106 8.92.1 32 n. 43, 43 n. 106 8.118.2 31 n. 38 8.118.3 31 n. 38 8.138.2 30–1 9.104 31 n. 38, 32 n. 43, 43 n. 106 Hes. Theog. 54 49 n. 19 73–4 109 n. 136 243 28 n. 22 411–52 13, 147 n. 81 881–5 109 n. 136 924–9 12 n. 44 Hesych. s.v. Ἐλευθέριος Ζεύς 36 n. 68 Hesychius of Miletus FGrH 390 F 1, 27 58 Historia Augusta 23.5 71

Hom. Il. 1.28 25 n. 4 1.32 26 n. 12 1.37 25 n. 4 1.46–52 67 1.451 25 n. 4 1.456 25 n. 3 1.566 25 n. 4 1.590 25 n. 4 2.400–1 24, 27 n. 18, 82 n. 10 3.276 49 n. 19 4.7 27 n. 15 4.8 26–7, 47 4.11 25 n. 3 4.12 25 n. 7 4.70–2 12 n. 43 4.390 27 n. 17 5.53 25 n. 4 5.344 25 n. 3 5.603 25 n. 3 5.808 27 n. 16 5.828 27 n. 16 5.908 26–7, 47 6.297–311 48 n. 14 6.205 107 n. 121, 154 n. 105 6.305 22 n. 87, 26 n. 13 6.305–11 27 n. 18 6.428 107 n. 121, 154 n. 105 6.455 37 n. 70 6.528 37 n. 70 7.298 33 n. 54 8.365 25 n. 4 8.414 25 n. 4 11.366 27 n. 16 11.797 28 12.180 27 n. 16 13.734 25 n. 7 14.357 25 n. 4 15.29 25 n. 3 15.187–93 109 n. 136 15.254 27 n. 17 15.254–7 25 15.255 25 n. 3 15.257 25 n. 3 15.290 25 n. 3, 25, 25 n. 7 15.367–76 27 n. 18 15.375 25 n. 3 15.502–3 25 n. 8 15.610 27 n. 17 15.741 28, 59 n. 60 16.39 28, 59 n. 60 16.234 49 n. 19 16.297–300 28 n. 21

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Hom. (cont.) 16.831 37 n. 70 17.227–8 25 n. 8 17.339 27 n. 16 17.645 28 n. 21, 59 n. 60 18.405 25 n. 7 20.193 37 n. 70 20.194–5 25 n. 3 20.315 25 n. 4, 25 n. 4 20.450 25 n. 6 21.138 25 n. 4 21.215 25 n. 3 21.431 27 n. 17 21.483–4 107, 154 22.174–6 26 22.332 26 n. 12 22.394 33 23.185 25 n. 4 23.770 27 n. 17 23.783 25 n. 4 24.35 26 24.371 25 n. 4 24.527ff. 9 n. 32 Od. 3.173–9 27 n. 19 3.236–8 26 n. 11, 117 n. 173 4.98 26 n. 12 4.363–4 25 n. 6 4.449–511 152 4.501 25 n. 7 5.130 25 n. 7 5.452 25 n. 7 8.464ff. 44 n. 110 10.286 25 n. 4 10.473–4 32 n. 43 11.119–34 122 n. 17 11.127 122 11.172–3 107 n. 121, 154 n. 105 11.198–9 107 n. 121, 154 n. 105 12.107 25 n. 3 13.43 26 n. 12 13.319 25 n. 4 13.321 25 n. 4 13.391 25 n. 4 15.35 25 n. 4 16.261 27 n. 17 16.263 27 n. 17 17.364 25 n. 4 24.182 27 n. 16

3.97–116 107 n. 123 4.2 49 n. 19 8.2 154 n. 103 10.4 49 n. 19 11.1 22 n. 87, 26 n. 13 22.5 28, 42 n. 104, 70 n. 108, 126, 152 22.7 28 28.3 22 n. 87, 26 n. 13 33.6 42 n. 104 33.6–19 28, 126, 156 Isae. 5.37–8 239 n. 3 Isoc. 7.1 239 n. 3 9.14–15 68 9.57 37 n. 73, 52 17.17 111 n. 147 John Malalas, Chron. 11.8 71 Just. Epit. 17.1.8–17.2.2 193 n. 135 24.4–8 11 n. 40, 56 25.1–2 181 n. 71 Justin, 1 Apol. 33.7 226 Lib. Or. 5.1 238 5.45–53 238 Livy 8.14.2 253 n. 33, 253 n. 34 9.43.25 249 10.1.9 249 22.1.5 240 n. 6 22.1.7 253 n. 33 23.31.15 253 n. 33 31.16.4 171 n. 25 31.24.18 178 n. 60 31.26.9–13 171 n. 60 31.44.2–9 178, 179 32.30.10 253 n. 34 33.21.3 200 34.50.9 212 34.53.3 253 n. 34 38.16.14 200 45.34.11 159 45.44.20 251–2

Hor. Carm. 4.5.1 254

[Livy], Julius Obsequens 55 253 n. 34

Hymn. Hom. 2.480–4 216 n. 16

Lucian Hist. conscr.

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   62 189 n. 110 Zeuxis 9–11 196 n. 147 Lycurg. Leoc. 17 12 n. 42, 80 n. 2, 123 n. 19, 144 n. 69 148 111 n. 147 Lys. 19.54 111 n. 147 22.3 111 n. 147 Macrob. 1.17.22 153 Memnon FGrH 434 F 5 195 FGrH 434 F 6–7 196 New Testament Mt. 1:21 222, 225 8:25 220 9:21–2 220 9:22 220 n. 39 14:30 220 16:25 221 24:22 220 Mk. 3:4 220 5:23 220 5:28 220 5:34 220 6:56 220 8:35 221 10:52 220 13:20 220 16:16 222 n. 49 Lk. 1:47 223, 223 n. 59, 227 1:71 221 1:77 222, 223 n. 59 2:11 223 2:30 223 n. 57 3:6 223 n. 57 7:49–50 222 8:36 220 8:48 220 n. 39, 222 n. 49 8:50 220, 222 n. 49 9:24 221 18:42 220 Jn. 3:17 227 4:42 223, 227 12:47 227 Acts 4:9 220

4:12 225 n. 70, 232 5:30–1 227 n. 88 5:31 222, 223 13:23 223, 227 n. 88 16:30–1 222 n. 49 27:31 220 27:34 221 Rom. 5:9 222 11:26 226 1 Cor. 1:21 222 n. 49 Eph. 5:23 214, 223 Phil. 3:20 200, 223 Col. 1:13 226 n. 79 1 Thess. 1:10 226 n. 79 5:8–10 214, 222 2 Thess. 2:13 222 n. 49 1 Tim. 1:1 224 n. 61 2:3 224 n. 61 2:5 227 n. 88 4:10 222 n. 49, 224 n. 61, 227 2 Tim. 1:10 224 n. 61 3:15 222 n. 49 4:18 226 n. 79 Titus 1:3 223 n. 59, 224 n. 61 1:4 223 n. 59, 224 n. 61 2:10 223 n. 59, 224 n. 61 2:13 223 n. 59, 224 n. 61 3:4 224 n. 61 3:4–6 223 n. 59 36 ;224 n. 61 Heb. 5:9 222 n. 47 7:25 222 11:7 221 Jas. 1:21.1 222 2:14 222 n. 49 5:20 222 1 Pet. 1:9 222 2 Pet. 1:1 222 n. 49

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New Testament (cont.) 1:11 224 n. 62 2:20 224 n. 62 3:2 224 n. 62 3:18 224 n. 62 1 Jn. 4:14 224 n. 62, 227 Jude 5 222 25 224 n. 62 Old Testament Gen. 28:21 220 n. 36 Judg. 2:18 219 3:9 218–19 3:10 219 3:15 218–19 3:31 219 6:14–15 219 6:31 233 n. 119 6:36–7 219 8:22 219 10:1 219 12:3 218 15:18 220 n. 35 1 Sam. 10:19 219 11:9 220 n. 35 19:5 220 n. 35 2 Sam. 10:11 220 n. 35 15:14 220 n. 35 19:2 220 n. 35 23:10 220 n. 35 2 Kings 13:5 219 13:17 220 n. 35 14:27 219 1 Chr. 11:14 220 n. 35 19:12 220 n. 35 2 Chr. 12:7 220 n. 35 20:17 220 n. 35 Ezra 9:8 220 n. 35 9:13 220 n. 35 Neh. 9:27 218 n. 27, 219 n. 33 Job 5:4 220 n. 36 Ps. 12:5 220 n. 36

18:50 220 n. 35 25:5 227 n. 83 27:1 227 n. 83 27:9 227 n. 83 60:11 220 n. 35 65:5 227 n. 83 69:29 220 n. 36 79:9 227 n. 83 95:1 227 n. 83 144:10 220 n. 35 Isa. 12:2 227 n. 83 25:9 220 43:11 225 n. 70, 232 43:11–12 220 45:17 220, 222 n. 47 45:20–2 220, 232 45:21 225 n. 70 52:10 220 59:20 226 n. 79 Mic 7:7 227 n. 83 Hab. 3:18 223 n. 56 1 Macc. 1:47 200 1:55 200 Orph. Hymn 15.8 110 27.12 136 n. 36 38.3 91 n. 54, 156 n. 108 38.24 91 n. 54, 156 n. 108 Page, FGE anon. VII 91 n. 55 anon. LXXXIII 91–2 Cornelius Longus I 100 n. 94 Page, PMG 858 116 n. 164 Fragmenta Adespota 1027c 28 n. 25 Paus. 1.1.3 12 n. 45, 80, 92 n. 56 1.3.2 37 n. 73 1.3.4 21 n. 84, 67 1.4.4 11 n. 40, 56 1.6.2 184 n. 89 1.8.6 184 1.9.1 191 n. 118 1.16.1 195 n. 142 1.22.8 51 n. 31 1.26.2 52 n. 33, 177 1.32.6 42 n. 101 1.38.6 51 n. 31

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   1.40.2–3 37 n. 74, 44 n. 111, 57, 126, 145 1.44.4 37 n. 74, 44 n. 111, 57, 126, 145 2.2.6–7 22 n. 85 2.8.6 181 2.9.4 66 n. 91 2.10.2 104 n. 110 2.23.1 69 n. 103 2.29.7–8 68 2.31.1 144 n. 67 2.31.5 19 n. 71, 141 n. 51 2.32.6 22 n. 85, 67 2.34.11 92 n. 56 2.37.2 19 n. 71 3.6.6 181 3.13.2 129 n. 29 3.17.2 47 n. 11 3.22.12 46 n. 3, 144 n. 67, 145 4.27.10 53 n. 39 5.20.9–10 170 n. 22 6.20.2–5 8 n. 26, 141 n. 52, 164 6.24.6 22 n. 85, 67 6.25.4 8 n. 26 7.2.10 65 n. 84 7.19.6–20.1 250 n. 13 7.21.6–7 163 7.21.7 153 n. 101, 250 7.24.3 163, 250 7.27.3 58, 145 8.30.10 77 n. 141 8.31.1–2 129 n. 29 8.31.7 139 n. 42 8.36.3 116 n. 164 8.37.1 59 n. 62 8.41.8–9 21 n. 84, 67 8.43.3 71 8.44.4 122 9.1.8 53 n. 39 9.2.5–6 37 n. 75, 52 n. 34 9.19.6 59 n. 62 9.26.7–8 19 n. 71 9.33.5 26 n. 14 10.10.1–2 174 n. 37 10.10.2 177 n. 51 10.15.2–3 199–200 10.19.5–10.23 11 n. 40, 56 10.21.5–6 52 n. 33, 177 n. 53 10.22.12 56 10.23.7 56, 93 n. 65 Philo Ebr. 111 222 n. 48 Phylarchus FGrH 81 F 29 195 Pind.

Isthm. 6.7–9 29, 44 n. 111 ΣVΓ 6.10a 29 n. 29 Nem. Σ 5.17b 68 Ol. 7.55 109 n. 136 8.21 28 n. 23, 29 n. 27 9.15 28 n. 23 12.1 37 n. 70 12.2 28 n. 23, 136 13.54 33 n. 53, 39 n. 83 Parth. fr. 95 Maehler 49 n. 19 Thren. fr. 131a Maehler 216 n. 16 fr. 137 Maehler 216 n. 16 Pl. Euthphr. 14b 17 Hipp. Mai 293a 42 n. 101 Phd. 107c–d 216 n. 15, 237 n. 8 Symp. 209d4–6 10 n. 34 Plaut. Asin. 656 254 n. 40 Bacch. 879–80 254 n. 40 Cist. 644 254 n. 40 Pliny HN 34.74 251, 252 Plut. Alex. 27.1 68 n. 99 Arat. 2.1 65 14.3 65, 202 n. 180 32 57, 145 34.4–6 181 45.3 182 n. 81 45.8–9 183 n. 83 46 182 n. 78 53 66, 202 n. 180 Arist. 11 52 11.5–6 37, 53 19–21 52 19.6–7 53 20.4–5 37, 53

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  

Plut. (cont.) 21.1–2 53 Cleom. 28–30 182 n. 78 30 183 n. 84 Coriolanus 11.2 204 De malignitate Herodoti 873b 52 Dem. 8.1 207 8.5 207 n. 197 8.5–9.1 173 9.1 171 n. 25, 208 9.2 207 n. 197 9.5 207 n. 197 9.6 207 n. 197 10.3 173, 177, 207 10.4 173 10.3–12.3 173 12.2 176 n. 49 12.3 173–4 15.1 207 n. 197 23.2 207 n. 197 24.5 207 n. 197 25 174 30.3 176 30.4–5 177 34 181 34.1 176 34.4 176 46.1 177 Dion 28.3–29.1 168–9 29.1 168 46.1 168, 202 n. 180 Flam. 10.5 212 16.4 212 Luc. 10 77 n. 139 Lys. 18.2–4 170 n. 19 Pel. 12.4 202 n. 180 Quaest. Graec. 303c 91 n. 55, 157 n. 113 Thes. 6 47 n. 11 Tim. 36.3 198 n. 156 Polyb. 2.56–8 183 n. 83 2.70.4–5 182, 183 n. 84, 204, 207

5.9.8–10 182, 183 n. 82 5.77–8 202 n. 179 8.12.7–8 66 n. 91 9.36.5 182, 204, 207 15.24.1–3 171 n. 25 18.41.7 200 22.21 200 n. 172 30.18.5 251 Polycharmus FGrH 640 F 1 91, 157 n. 113 Posidippus fr. 31 K.–A. 52 Posidonius FGrH 87 F 28 76–7 Prop. 4.6.37 254 Ptolemy Georg. 6.17.7 197 Quint. Inst. 11.2.13 238 n. 12 Simon. Plataea elegy fr. 14.7 West² 53 n. 35 Solon fr. 4.1–4 West 47 n. 10 fr. 13 West 9 n. 32 Soph. Aj. 692 41 779 41 812 41 El. 281 19 n. 73, 162 n. 129 438 41 n. 94 637 51 n. 26 1354 28 n. 21, 59 n. 60 Eurypylus fr. 211.12 Radt 10 n. 34 Nauplius fr. 425 Radt 19 n. 73, 29 n. 28 OC 459–60 42 n. 102 OT 80–1 33 n. 51, 136 n. 40 150 67 n. 97 203–7 67 Phil. 134 152 n. 95 297 40 311 40 488 40 496 40

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   528–9 40 766 40 803 40 919 40 1379 40 1396 40–1 Trach. 209 51 n. 28 Incert. fab. fr. 837 Radt 216 n. 16 Steph. Byz. s.v. Bosporos 58 s.v. Soteira 197 Strabo 2.3.4, 98 76–7 8.6.16, 375 68 n. 98 8.6.19, 377 42 9.1.15, 398 80 n. 2 9.2.31, 412 52 9.2.36, 413 26 n. 14 12.8.16, 578 253 n. 37 13.4.2, 624 200 n. 169 16.4.7, 770 96 n. 81, 235 n. 2 16.4.17, 776 94 n. 73 17.1.2, 786 94 n. 73 17.1.6, 791 10 n. 34 17.1.53, 819 94 n. 73 Suda s.v. Ἐμοὶ μελήσει ταῦτα καὶ λευκαῖς κόραις 56 s.v. Λάγος 206 s.v. Σιμωνίδης, Μάγνης Σιπύλου 196 Theoc. Idyll 17.122ff. 189 Theophr. Char. 21.11 74 n. 126 Theopompos FGrH 115 F 104 73 n. 121 Thrasymachos fr. 3 DK 73 n. 121 Thuc. 2.13.5 34 2.60.4 34 2.61.4 34 2.71 52, 53 2.71.2 37 n. 75 3.58 52 3.68.3 53 n. 39 4.121.1 36 n. 66 5.87 35, 43 5.88 35, 43 5.91.2 35 n. 61, 43

297

5.93 35 n. 61 5.11.1 35–6, 66, 166, 170 n. 19, 202 n. 180 5.111.3–4 35 n. 61 5.112 35 6.23.3 34 6.24.3 34 6.31.2 73 n. 121 6.69.3 36 n. 67 6.78.4 34 n. 56 7.12.3 34 n. 60 7.61.1 34 n. 59 7.70 34 7.71.3 34 8.67 239 n. 3 Trogus, Prol. 32 200 n. 172 Vell. Pat. 2.60.1 254 Xen. An. 3.2.8 82 3.2.9 5 n. 14, 19 n. 74 3.2.9–11 82 4.8.25 5 n. 14, 82 7.8.1–6 6 n. 17 Oec. 7.1 37 n. 73 Symp. 8.9 6 n. 18 Zenob. 3.94 192 II. Inscriptions AE (1920) 37 252 Agora III p. 25–30 36 n. 68, 43 n. 105, 120 n. 10 p. 29, no. 39 37 n. 72 ASAA n.s. 25–6 (1965) 324–5, no. 24 226 n. 81 Austin (2006) 60 54–5 63 53 AvP VIII.3 3 159 n. 122 63 8 n. 27, 92, 110 n. 142, 115 n. 159, 144 n. 70, 159 n. 124 65 159 n. 124 70 159 n. 124 97 159 n. 124 126 136 n. 38

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298

  

Bandy (1970) 76 229 n. 97 99 229 n. 99 appendix, no. 1 229–30

CGRN 134 193–4, 211 137 196 141 75–6

Barth and Stauber (1996), IMT 1401 77 n. 140 1445 49 n. 20, 77 n. 140, 216 n. 14 1455 77 n. 140 1457 77 n. 140 1459 77 n. 140 1460 77 n. 140 1461 77 n. 140 1463 77 n. 140 1464 77 n. 140 1467 77 n. 140 1468 77 n. 140 1476 77 n. 140 1570 77 n. 140 1571 77 n. 140

CIG 3075 197 n. 148 3660 201 n. 177 3669 85 n. 25 3827q 243 n. 1, 247 3961 91 6753 136 n. 38 8470C 122, 249

BE (1950), no. 223 102–4 (1954), no. 238 109 (1958), no. 460 109 n. 132 (1963), no. 253 241 (1963), no. 281 199 (1966), no. 525 136 n. 35 (1970), no. 667 164 n. 143 (1974), no. 461 227 n. 86 (1988), no. 791 82–3 (1994), no. 299 180–1 (1999), no. 378 183 (2010), no. 522 193–4 (2017), no. 424 170–1 (2018), no. 95 171 n. 25 Beševliev (1964) 136 229 n. 98, 230 n. 101 Breccia (1911) 1 185–6 2 189 n. 108 3 189 n. 108 Buckler and Calder (1925) 154, no. 40 243 n. 3, 244–5 CCCA V 4 136 n. 36 CEG 10 228 n. 91 198 47 235 47 282 47 348 47 n. 11 755 102 n. 102, 158 n. 117 777 175

CIL I² 1430 253 CIL II 145 252 CIL III 184 252 1397 252 CIL VI 374 253 CIL VII 296 252 CIMRM 568 92 CIRB 22 49 n. 19 30 70 n. 108, 88–9, 115, 126 n. 22 36 136, 150 76 136, 150 1057 228 n. 91 Clara Rhodos 2 (1932) 172ff., no. 3 200 184, no. 9 88 n. 33 CMRDM I 99 243 142 100 n. 98 Cook, Troad 400, no. 4 254 n. 43 Corinth VIII.1 130 228 n. 91 CPI 2 191 47 192 100 191 107 140 n. 45 169 141 n. 50, 150 179 136, 33 n. 49 323 185–7, 191 n. 123, 208 342 91

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   358 368 379 450 451 548 550 563 566 567 584 605

190 191 211 n. 211 96–7 190 94, 96 94 95 94 94 162 n. 129, 209 185–6, 208

DAA 233 47 Delemen (1999) 39–43, nos. 286–91 15 n. 57, 241 n. 1 Dussaud (1896) 299 1, 7 n. 23, 21 n. 82, 109 EBGR (1997) 104 245 n. 13 EBGR (2011) 101 89 n. 38 FD III.3 359 129 n. 29 Feissel, Recueil 35 230 179 230 Forrest (1986) 133–4 26 n. 14 Fraser (1959–60) 1 190 Fraser (1964) 10 192 n. 126 GIBM 975 76 n. 134 Hasluck (1904) 21–3, no. 4 7 n. 21, 69, 110 n. 143, 154 n. 102 Hatzopoulos, Macedonian Institutions II 39 70 n. 104 54 70 n. 104 78 191 n. 117 Herrmann–Malay, Lydia 68 212 n. 221 I.Alex.Ptol. 8 189 n. 110 49 192 n. 126 I.Alexandreia Troas 156 229 n. 94

299

I.Anazarbos 49 7 n. 23, 11–12, 71 n. 109, 109, 110 n. 140 I.Aphrodisias 2007 12.701 212 I.Aphrodisias and Rome 18 52 I.Assos 28a 19 n. 72, 162 n. 129, 163 n. 132 I.Atrax 84 115 I.Bouthrotos 1–4 113 6 113 66–109 112 110–17 112 119–51bis 112 123–6 112 n. 154 I.Chr.Cyclades 71 230 79 230 83 230 92 230 95 230 103 230 113 230 117 230 130 230 131 230 I.Cret. I, xvii 24 104 I, xvii 26A 136 n. 38 IV 171 47 n. 11 IV 183 47 n. 11 I.Délos 1417.B.II 59 n. 62 1533 191 n. 120 1534 191 n. 120 1723 212 n. 220 2119 21, 85 2132 92 n. 61, 150, 165 n. 145 2305 21, 22 n. 85, 91 n. 55, 92 2378 108 2379 59 n. 62, 108 2433 21, 85 2448 136 n. 35 I.Delphinion 139 188 n. 104, 189 n. 108 147 240 n. 9 I.Delta I 413, no. 1 140 n. 45 925–8, no. 1 100 n. 98, 141 n. 50, 150

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300

  

I.Didyma 75 69 n. 100, 89 n. 44 132 70, 126 n. 22, 153 n. 101 159 68–9 424 162, 211 504 129 n. 29, 141 n. 49 I.Egypte métriques 88 228 n. 91 109 5 n. 14, 102–3 I.Eleusis 181 217 202 217 229 217 486 163 n. 131 I.Ephesos 128 164 1060 164 1233 164 1238 136 n. 40 1265 49 n. 20 3220 136 n. 40 I.Epidauros Asklepieion 133 163 n. 135, 251 n. 18 334 136 n. 40 I.Erythrai 35 240 n. 5 36 240 n. 5 201 129 n. 29 205 194 I.Estremo Oriente 76 197 103 191 n. 117, 199 n. 166, 211 147 = 427 90 416 21, 87, 118 n. 2, 153 417 21, 87 418 21, 22 n. 85, 87, 110 I.Fayoum III 203 163 n. 132 I.Gerasa 39 110, 126 n. 22 195 139 n. 42, 153–4 333 229 n. 98, 231 I.Histriae 112 90 I.Iasos 608.20–2 196–7 613 62 n. 71 I.Ilion 31 194 32 196–7 81 254 n. 42

82 254 n. 42 I.Iznik 1506 20 n. 79 I.Jud. Egypt 121 94 I.Kallatis 24 120 I.Kanais 2 94 3 94 8 95 9bis 94, 96 13 94 18 94 24 95–6 25 95, 96, 117, 150 39 95, 117, 150 40 95, 117 42 21 n. 82, 92, 94 43 21 n. 82, 94, 150 44 21 n. 82, 94 47 94 49 95–6 60 94 61 94 62 94 73 95–6 82 94 90 94, 96 I.Kato Makedonia I 19 129 I.Kition 2003 81 n. 6 I.Kyme 12 240 n. 9 I.Louvre 16 136, 141 n. 50 I.Magnesia 5 194 n. 140 86.16 200 I.Malysa 306 62 n. 71 I.Milet VI.1 279 49 n. 20, 69 n. 100, 89 n. 44 280 69 n. 100, 89 n. 44 281 69 n. 100, 89 n. 44 1234 89 n. 44 1235 89 n. 44 1236 89 n. 44 1248 69, 110 n. 143 1257 110 n. 143, 154 n. 102

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   I.Mus. Burdur 116 241 n. 1 180 241 n. 1 181 241 182 241 I.Mus. Konya 16 241 I.Olbia 71 120 n. 11, 145 n. 71 I.Oropos 442 212 n. 221 I.Pergamon 33–7 201 n. 175 43 200 44 200 45 200 51–6 201 n. 175 58 201 n. 175 59 200 63 201 n. 175 65 201 n. 175 66 201 n. 175 69 201 n. 175 214–16 201 n. 175 246 159 n. 124 419 212 n. 221 576.7 229 n. 93 I.Perge 207 XXVI 139 n. 42

20 88 n. 36, 126 n. 22 22 12 n. 42, 81, 181, 211 26 12 n. 42, 81, 181, 211 31 12 n. 42, 81, 87, 181, 211 146 81, 181, 211 148–53 81, 181, 211 I.Rhod.Per. 6 141 n. 49 I.Sinuri 8 85 n. 25 I.Smyrna 573 197 n. 148 750 227 n. 86 766 105, 226 I.Stratonikeia 10 63 15 64 217 63 300 63 330 63 505 13 n. 47, 63 507 13 n. 47, 49 n. 20, 63, 136, 161 510 13 n. 47, 63, 136 512 13 n. 47, 62–3, 83 n. 13 516 63, 136 1101 64 1104 85 1108 63, 136 1118 100 n. 99

I.Philae 20 190 134 164 166 190

I.Sultan Daği 44 241, 242

I.Pisid.Cen. 5 V 150 n. 84 5 XXVI 139 n. 42 104a 241 104g 241

I.Thrake Aeg. E459 241 n. 1, 241 n. 10

I.Portes 48 91

I.Varsovie 50 185–7

I.Priene 11 7 n. 23, 19 n. 72, 54 n. 41, 65, 145 n. 72, 162 n. 129, 163 18 194 n. 140

ICG 76 229 n. 97 418 231 1080 231 1115 231 1116 231 1451 231 1468 231 1689 229 n. 97 1887 229 n. 97 2375 229 n. 98, 230 3043 229 n. 98, 230

I.Priene IK 6 7 n. 23, 19 n. 72, 54 n. 41, 65, 145 n. 72, 162 n. 129, 163 29–31 194 n. 140 I.Rhamnous 7 180 17 180 n. 70

I.Thèbes Syène 309 96–7

I.Vallée Enipeus 59 112 n. 150

301

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302

  

ICG (cont.) 3200 229 n. 98, 230 3306 229 n. 97 3444 230 3647 231 IG II/III² 43 37 n. 73 66.22–3 19 n. 74 380 145 n. 72 410 74 435 239 n. 2 668 75, 79 676 145 n. 72 783 145 n. 72 949 74 n. 127, 217 n. 20 950 74 n. 127 971 145 n. 72 974 74 n. 127 1000 74 n. 127 1006 145 n. 72 1008 145 n. 72 1039 74 n. 127 1042 74 n. 127 1043 74 n. 127 1054 74 n. 127 1228 240 n. 7 1300 70 n. 108, 88 n. 36, 126 n. 22 1496 145 n. 72 1631 240 n. 7 2362 178 n. 61 2872 12 n. 45, 92 n. 56 3293 227 n. 86, 254 n. 43 3384 227 n. 86, 254 n. 43 3424 175 3483 145 n. 72 4356 1, 101, 158 n. 117 4357 8, 84, 115 n. 159, 144 n. 70, 158 n. 117, 237 n. 7 4368 102 n. 102, 159 n. 120 4908 116 n. 165 13137 229 n. 92 IG II/III³ 1 306 74 n. 123 359 74 n. 123 370 239, 240 n. 7 404 239 n. 2, 240 n. 7 416 74 445.30–1 123 n. 19 853.41–2 176 n. 47 857.42 176 n. 49 863 70 n. 104, 177 n. 52 884.39–42 194 n. 141 911 70 n. 104, 177 n. 52

915 19 n. 74, 217 n. 20 920 75, 79 985 70 n. 104 995.9–11 179 n. 64 1002.21–5 179 n. 64 1011 240 n. 7 1026.7–10 179 n. 64 1029 178, 179 n. 65, 206 n. 191 1034 181 n. 71 1036 178, 206 n. 191 1188 217 n. 20 1372 217 n. 20 3011 81 n. 6 IG II/III³ 4 672 1, 101, 158 n. 117 673 8, 84, 115 n. 159, 144 n. 70, 158 n. 117, 237 n. 7 417 81 n. 6 700 102 n. 102, 159 n. 120 718 102 n. 102, 158 n. 117 1050 163 n. 131 1152 107, 115–16, 139 n. 41 1347 139 n. 42 1360 85 n. 25 1362 100 n. 97 1443 116 n. 165, 204 n. 187 IG IV 840 5 n. 14, 153 n. 99 841 5 n. 14, 153 n. 99 1319 163, 251 n. 18 1553 19 n. 73, 162 n. 129 IG IV².1 121–3 221 n. 40, 235 121.3–22 106 n. 116 121.79–89 84 n. 18 122.60–3 106 n. 116 122.95–101 103 n. 104 123.8–21 84 n. 18 128.57–78 8, 59–60, 84, 115 n. 159, 126, 144 n. 70, 158, 237 n. 7 276 51 n. 31 286 19 n. 71 310 163, 251 n. 18 419 136 n. 38 421 136 n. 38 512 163 n. 132 561 136 n. 38 570 104–5, 136 n. 38, 162, 226 n. 81 IG IV².2 1061 120 1236 5 n. 14, 153 n. 99 IG V.1 1122 182–3

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   IG V.2 68 108 118 188 n. 105 299 183 432 77 n. 141, 145 n. 72 77 I 48 n. 17 432.15–17 145 n. 72 IG VII 16 57 n. 54 112 57 n. 54 264 212 2727 145 n. 72 3206 81 n. 6 IG IX.1 130 126 n. 26 IG IX.1² 137.85–6 57 n. 53 137.85–90 113 1233 212 n. 220 IG IX.2 237 19 n. 71 238 112 n. 150 1229 19 n. 71 IG X.2 67 92 n. 58 IG XI.4 1038 1123 1124 1254 1255 1276 1299

188 n. 104 189 n. 108 189 n. 108 141 n. 51 141 n. 51 59 n. 61 111–12

IG XII.1 6 194 n. 140 742 85 n. 25 914 85 n. 23, 141 n. 49 915 85 n. 23, 141 n. 49 IG XII.2 112 129 n. 29 484.21–2 19 n. 71 IG XII.3 421b 143 422 13 n. 51, 143 1328 59 n. 61 1337 13 n. 51 1347 13 n. 51 1350 5 n. 15, 238 1396 227 n. 86, 254 n. 43 IG XII.3 Suppl. 1333 13 n. 51, 143

303

1333–50 143 n. 63 1335b 143 1350 158 n. 116 IG XII.4 68 11 n. 40, 54–5 135.31–2 188 n. 104 279 12 n. 42 302 92 n. 56 350 12 n. 42, 72 n. 115 358 12 n. 42, 72 n. 115 370 12 n. 42 406 72 n. 115 407 12 n. 42 422 72 n. 115 423 72 n. 115 514 110–11, 129 n. 29, 150, 250 n. 16 541 20 n. 80, 71–2, 143 542 19 n. 72, 50, 71–2, 143, 162 n. 129, 163 543 20 n. 80, 71–2, 143 544 20 n. 80, 71–2, 143, 153 n. 101 554 72 n. 115 564 72 n. 115, 136 n. 35 566 5. n. 15, 89 567 89 622 153 n. 101 1187 72 n. 115 2811 145 n. 71 IG XII.5 41 47 n. 11 134 47 n. 11 557 227 n. 86 712, 68 230 n. 106 913 88, 110, 141 n. 51, 153 n. 99 IG XII.6 534 69 n. 101 IG XII.7 249 139 n. 42 506 187 509 240 n. 9 IG XII.9 1186.33 19 n. 74 IG XII Suppl. 30 153 n. 101 168 180 n. 69 200 240 n. 9 209 104 n. 111 433 104 n. 111 IGBulg I² 86 bis 227 n. 86 88 bis 59 n. 62 345 245–6 374 98

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  

IGBulg III 919 5 n. 15 1475 22 n. 85 1476 136 n. 38 1543 20 1594 241 n. 1, 241 n. 10 1628 136 n. 38 1805 98, 158 n. 116 1811 241 n. 1 1864 217 IGBulg IV 2034 136 n. 38 2231 116 2350 106 n. 115 IGBulg V 5034 59 n. 62 5412 170 n. 22 5578 100 n. 99 5587 100 n. 99 IGDOP 11 120 n. 11, 145 n. 71 50 8 n. 26, 92 n. 61, 120 n. 11, 129, 141 n. 52 IGLS IV 1322–7 100 n. 99 IGLS VI 2902 20 IGR I 1151 190 n. 114 1153 139 n. 42 IGR III 721 254 IGR IV 200 254 IGUR I 6 253 105 104, 164 n. 143 193 117 ILLRP 170 253 177 253 ILS 316 253 n. 35 3001 252 3016 252 3224 252 3437 252 3440 252 3466 252 3467 252 3664 252 5683 253 n. 35

6037 252 6106 253 n. 35 7315 252 IOSPE I² 25 120 n. 11 80–115 51 n. 28 168 12 n. 45, 92 n. 56 343 62 344 60 352 51, 62, 63, 83 n. 13 406 123 n. 19 IOSPE³ III 1 60 III 8 51, 62, 63, 83 n. 13 III 51 62 III 121 123 n. 19 Iscr. Cos EV 199 71 n. 113 Kaibel, Epigrammata graeca 366 228 n. 91 Keil–Premerstein, Lydien I 192 243–4 II 267 243 n. 1, 248 Lajtar (1999) 53 185–6 Lindos II 2.D.1–42 68 2.D.95–115 183–4 252 145 n .71 630 145 n .71 683 145 n .71 LSAM 24 194 32 75–6 50 51 n. 31 69 64 LSS 115 A 21, 67 Ma (2000) no. 17 197–8, 211 n. 214 no. 18 198 n. 156, 198 n. 158 Maiuri, Nuova Silloge 19 145 n. 72 Malay, Lydia Mysia Aiolis 118 85 n. 25 131 212 n. 221 137 85 n. 25 Malay–Petzl, Lydia 204 85 n. 25 Malay and Ricl (2009) 1 193–4, 196, 211

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   MAMA I 8 241 n. 1 IV 143.D.5 136 n. 40 IV 327 231 V 10 100 n. 99 V 129 100 n. 99 V 212 20 n. 79, 98 V 218 99 n. 92 V 220 99 V 221 100 n. 99 V p. 103 139 n. 43 V p. 154, R19 139 n. 43 VI p. 145, no. 94 91 VII 303 20 n. 79 VIII 413a 52 n. 32 IX 58 241 n. 8

215 219 229 233 245 246 253 289 301 332 426 441 668 738 739 748

194 188 n. 100, 196–7 197 n. 148 197 197 197 n. 148, 199 199 n. 166 200 191, 200–1, 211 159 n. 124 197 n. 149 63 254 191 191 177

MDAI(A) 27 (1902), p. 95, nos. 86–7 200 29 (1904), p. 301 158 n. 116 33 (1908), p. 403–4, no. 32 200

OMS II 1178–90 200 1183 201 n. 174 1183–5 200

Meritt (1935) 1 46 n. 3, 110, 153 n. 101 6 194 n. 140

P.Cairo dem. 30602 192 n. 131 30603 192 n. 131

Moretti, ISE 7 175 n. 41

P.London III 80 604B 190

Mouterde (1931) 141–4 92, 116, 204 n. 187

P.Ryl.Dem. 20 191

Nachtergael (1977), appendices ii. nos. 2–11 145 n. 72 iii. no. 21 57 iii. nos. 21–7 55 iii. nos. 23–5 57

Papyrus Fouad Ier inv. 211 190

OGIS 5 207 6 172 n. 28, 188 n. 100, 207 16 189 n. 108 17 209 19 185–6, 208 22 189 n. 110 23 189 n. 110 29 189 n. 110 69 91 74 21 90 190 n. 115 89 211 119 81 n. 6 167 191 173 191 194 212 212 194 214 163, 211

Peek, GVI 392 229 431 228 n. 91 533 229 1145 107 n. 125 1990 228 n. 91 2040 229 n. 93

POxy. 1380.76 192 n. 126 2465 fr. 2, col. I 200

Pfuhl–Möbius II 2088 245–6 2089 247–8 2090 248 2091 248 2092 247 2120 244–5 Phrygian Votive Steles 336 20 n. 79, 98 Prakt (1989) 28–31, no. 14 88 n. 36

305

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  

RECAM II 17 243 n. 4 19 243 n. 4 21 243 n. 4 51 243 n. 4 52 243 n. 4 54 243 n. 4 Recherches Thasos II 230, no. 405 171 n. 24 Reinach (1890) 537–8 no. 2 49 n. 20, 77 n. 140, 216 n. 14 RICIS 113/0902 202/0101 202/0171 202/0172 308/1201 501/0126 501/0151 504/0216

171 n. 24 111–12 141 n. 51 141 n. 51 228 n. 91 164–5 252 19 n. 72, 138–9, 249 n. 2

Ricl (2008) 569, no. 12 116, 204 n. 187 Ricl (2009) 188 100 n. 98 Rigsby, Asylia 28 74 n. 129 29 74 n. 129 128 74 n. 129 131 74 n. 129 165 76 167–70 76 RO 22 37 n. 73 83.ii.4–5 170 n. 22 100 239 114 88 n. 34 Robert, Noms indigènes 458–9 145 n. 72 Roueché and Sherwin-White (1985) 1 87 3 87 RPhil 23 (1899), 283, nos. 5–6 200 n. 170 63 (1937), 332–3, no. 7 240 n. 9 Rubensohn (1931) 1 185–7, 191 n. 123, 208 Samama (2003) 523 164 524 164

SB 3448 5863 7332 7396 7630

190 100 n. 98, 141 n. 50, 150 189 n. 110 190 192 n. 124

Schwarzer, AvP XV.4 S21 200 n. 170 SEG IV 727 229 n. 93 VI 392 241 n. 10 VII 967 92, 116, 204 n. 187 XI 2 120 XI 314 49 XV 332 145 n. 72 XV 517 19 n. 74, 153 n. 101 XVI 177 158 n. 118 XIX 904 199 XX 707 89 XXIII 687 136 n. 36 XXIV 902 19 n. 72 XXV 149 175 XXVI 718 81 n. 6 XXIX 1696 243, 248 XXX 69 174, 177 n. 57 XXX 703 164 n. 138 XXX 1789 122 XXXII 151 178 XXXII 748 120 XXXII 749 120 XXXII 760 120 XXXIII 147 89 n. 38, 141 n. 52, 164 n. 138 XXXIII 540 106 n. 115 XXXIV 989 136 n. 35 XXXV 1477 87 XXXVI 555 82–3 XXXVII 840 140, 164 XXXVIII 658 170 n. 22 XXXVIII 1562 139 n. 42 XXXIX 703 126 n. 24 XXXIX 730 (c) 230 n. 107 XXXIX 883 17 n. 65 XXXIX 1227 230 n. 107 XXXIX 1299 243 n. 4 XXXIX 1301 243 n. 4 XXXIX 1302 243 n. 4 XXXIX 1303 243 n. 4 XXXIX 1304 243 n. 4 XXXIX 1310 243 n. 4 XXXIX 1502 139 n. 42 XL 1077 243, 244

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   XL 1241 243 n. 1, 247 XLI 87 88 n. 36 XLI 541 82–3 XLI 599 171 n. 24 XLI 744 47 n. 11 XLI 1002 197 n. 148 XLI 1003 I 197–8, 211 n. 214 XLI 1003 II 198 n. 156, 198 n. 158 XLII 747 85 XLII 870 47 n. 11, 136 n. 38 XLIII 943 B 245 XLIII 943 C 245 n. 15 XLVI 447 120 n. 8 XLVI 448 120 n. 8 XLVI 1721 145 n. 75 XLVII 440 120 n. 8 XLVII 441 120 n. 8 XLVII 917 171 n. 24 XLVII 1517 92 n. 61, 249 n. 2 XLVIII 720 231 XLVIII 812 183 XLVIII 1430 243 n. 4 XLVIII 1431 243 n. 4 XLVIII 1432 243 n. 4 XLVIII 1433 243 n. 4 XLVIII 1434 243 n. 4 XLVIII 1435 243 n. 4 XLIX 1106 188 n. 104 XLIX 1408 19 n. 72, 92 n. 57 XLIX 1718 5 n. 15 XLIX 1808 246 L 572 145 n. 75 L 606 171 n. 24 L 1179 22 n. 86 L 1195 201 n. 177 L 1211 158 n. 118 L 1222 98–9 LI 932 90 LI 1875 230 n. 107 LII 893 50 LIII 151 178 LIII 907 187 n. 97 LIII 1001 122 n. 12 LVI 551 19 n. 71 LVI 601 107 n. 119 LVII 577 83 LVII 680 136 n. 35, 244 n. 11, 246 n. 19 LVII 872 120, 122 LVII 1343 246 LVII 1772 87 n. 27 LIX 1406 A 12 n. 42, 193–4, 196, 211 LX 941 212 n. 221

LXI 625 (3) 91 LXI 746 120, 122 LXI 1029 231 LXI 1390 109 n. 135 LXI 1565 243 n. 1, 247 LXII 480 120 n. 7 LXIII 571 (16) 129 LXV 736 170–1 LXV 1462 241 n. 1 LXVI 1389 244 n. 6 LXVI 1666 243 n. 1, 247 Steinepigramme 05/01/06 227 n. 86 16/22/03 228 n. 91 16/31/10 243, 245, 246 16/32/10 229 Strubbe, Arai Epitymbioi 181 244 182 244 190 244 204 244 207 244 222 244 Syll.² 791 77 n. 139 Syll.³ 390 187–8 398 54–5 426.20–2 196–7 592 212 694.50 52 742.15ff. 240 n. 9 763 85, 235 n. 2 1044.8 49 n. 19 TAM II 403 70–1, 109 n. 134 404 70–1, 109 n. 134 1222 150 n. 84 TAM III.1 34 150 n. 84 TAM V.1 360 1 535 9 n. 33, 212 n. 220 881 84 TAM V.2 1350 136 n. 38 TAM V.3 1633 139 n. 42

307

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  

Themelis (1994) 95 89 n. 39

Tod II 197 81 n. 6

Themelis (2010) 111 89 n. 39

Varinlioğlu (1990) 23 243, 244

Tit.Cal 69 64 n. 82, 69 n. 101

Vianu (2001) 132, no. 178 90, 156 n. 109

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Subject Index Note: Greek words are positioned alphabetically as if transliterated into English (aspirates are ignored). Achilles Soter: in modern Dzhangul 129 in Olbia 8 n. 26, 92 n. 61, 120 n. 11, 141 n. 52 and Targa (or Tarke) Soteira 129 Aetolia: cults in 56 n. 51, 57 n. 53 influence at Delphi 55, 67 Alexander the Great 171–2 Ammon: oracle of 68 n. 99, 184 as Soter 96–8 see also Zeus, epithets of, Ammon Anemoi Soteres, see winds as soteres Antigonus I: and Demetrius I as Soteres 173–5, 178–9 in drinking rituals 176, 195 n. 142 honours in Athens 172–6, 178–9 honours in Scepsis 172 n. 28, 188 n. 100, 207 n. 197 removal of honours for 176 n. 46, 177–8, 180 Antigonus II 180–1 Antigonus III 182–3 Antiochus I 193–4, 196–7 Antiochus III 192 n. 129, 197–8 Aphrodite: as a ‘blessing’ god 157 calming influence of 11, 157 and the sea 91–2, 157 Soteira, absence of the epithet 91–2, 157 Aphrodite, epithets of: Euploia 12 n. 45, 92, 115, 157 Galenaia 92, 115, 157 Limenia 92 Nauarchis 89, 115 Pelagia 92 Pontia 92, 157 see also Aphrodite Sozousa Aphrodite Sozousa 19 n. 72, 92 n. 57, 192 n. 126 Apollo: and plague 7, 8, 67, 142 and the sea 89–90 statues at city gates 51, 67 in Didyma 68

Apollo, epithets of: Aguieus 51 n. 31 Akesios 67 Alalkomeneis 26–7 Alexikakos 21, 67, 88 n. 34, 153 n. 99 Apotropaios 67 Didymeus 69, 89 Epikourios 21, 67 Phoibos 5, 22 n. 85, 25, 51 n. 26 Pityaenos 84 Prostaterios 51, 178 Pylaios 109 n. 132 Pythios 55, 57 Soter, see Apollo Soter without epithets 7 n. 24, 21, 67 Apollo Didymeus Soter 69 n. 100, 89 semi-standard reference to 89 Apollo Soter: and Aristides 90 receives dedication in Apollonia 89 geographical distribution of 129–130 and plague 33 n. 51, 67, see also Apollo, and plague and seafaring 7, 89–90 see also Apollo Didymeus Soter Aratus 65–6, 202 n. 180 Ares: assimilation to an Anatolian rider-god 242 receives dedication on Tenos 88 not called Soter 142, 154, 237 n. 5 as one of the θεοὶ πολιάοχοι χθονός 48 arete, see Soter, and arete Aristophanes 38–40, 44, 46 Artemis: and childbirth 106–7, 154 in Delphi 56 and Hecate, close association with 57–8 nocturnal intervention 59 and plague 67 in ‘structuralist’ interpretation 59, 109 Artemis, epithets of: Boulaia 178 Enoikia 108 Hegemone 59 n. 62, 145 n. 78

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310

 

Artemis, epithets of: (cont.) Kindyas 62 n. 71 Laphria 113 Orthosia 88 Pergaia 143 Phosphoros 59, 85 Phylake 22 n. 85 Propylaia 51 n. 31, 108 Prostaterios 51 Soteira, see Artemis Soteira Artemis Soteira: on Amorgos 109 n. 132 in Boeae 46 n. 3, 144 n. 66, 145 in city foundation 46 n. 3 on Delos 108 geographical distribution of 148 and household protection 7, 108–9 on Icaros (in the Persina Gulf ) 87, 153 in Megalopolis 77 n. 141 in Megara 37, 57, 126 in Megiste 109 n. 132 as the most popular Soteira 126, 145, 147 multiple functions of 7, 10, 145, 147 in Pagae 57 in Pellene 58 in Rhodes 85 n. 23 and seafaring 7, 21, 87 in Tegea 108 in Thera 108 with two torches 57, 59, 67, 108 and warfare 7, 57–9, 145 Asclepius: and armies, relation to 60 in Athens 1, 84, 100–1 brings only aid but not harm 8 and childbirth 106 n. 116 and healing 7, 100–102, 158 power not limited to healing 8, 59–60, 84, 92, 115, 144 saves from rocks 1, 101 saves from war and captivity 84 without epithets 7 n. 24, 101–2 Asclepius and Hygieia: and healing 7, 106 as Soteres 136 n. 38, 163 n. 132, 164 as Soteres Poliouchoi at Messina in Sicily 47 n. 11 see also Hygieia Soteira Asclepius Soter: and Aristides 117 n. 170 on Cos 72 n. 115 development over time 158–61 and Euergetes 104 geographical distribution of 160

and healing 104 at Lebena on Crete 104 in Pergamum 92, 142, 159, 161 in Rome 104 in Sparta 59–60, 158 and seafaring 8, 92 standardized use of 1–4, 158–9, 161 and warfare 8, 59–60, 158, see also Asclepius, saves from war and captivity Zeus Soter Asclepius 92 n. 59, 92 n. 61, 110 n. 142, 159 n. 124 see also Asclepius, saves from rocks ἀστυνόμοι 48–9 asylia 63, 64 Atargatis Soteira 129 Athena: as agent of Zeus 12, 68 birth of 12 metis of 11, 12 special relations to Athens 47–8, 50 in Troy 26 and wealth 100 n. 97 Athena, epithets of: Areia 88 Erusiptolis 22, 26, 47 Nike 65, 152 n. 95, 163, 174, 209 Nikephoros 201 Polias 49, 152 n. 95 Poliouchos 47–8 Pronaia 56 Soteira, see Athena Soteira Athena Soteira: Athena Soteira Nike 209 in Athens 50, 123 on Cos 72 n. 115 geographical distribution of 124 on Mt Boreius 122–3 in the Piraeus 12 n. 42, 77 n. 141, 80 in Rhamnus 81, 87, 181 and seafaring 7, 87, 88 and warfare 7, 88 and Zeus Soter 12, 72 n. 115, 80, 81, 122, 123, 125, 129 n. 31, 181, 193, 211 Attalus I 199–200 autonomia 18, 62 n. 71, 64, 65, 207 belief 2–3, 13, 23 see also epithets, cultic, and belief biblical scholars: Jung 16–17, 215 n. 6, 219 n. 31 interest in Greek soteria 16–17, 215–16 Westermann 8, 157 Brasidas 35–6, 39, 66, 166 Bubastis Soteira 136

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  χάρις 1, 17, 96, 117 Christianity: ‘blessing god’ in 8 ‘saving god’ in 8 and soteria, see σωτηρία (in Christianity) see also biblical scholars Cleon 35, 38 daimones: of Black Hecate 244 πολιοῦχοι δαίμονες 48 n. 15 σαωτῆρες δαίμονες 72 dedicatory formulae 20, 92 see also grammer of honours; ὑπέρ; sacrifice Demeter: as a ‘blessing’ god 157 Demeter Karpotrophos 141 n. 49 Demeter Soteira, on Cos 110–11, 150 Demetrius I of Macedonia 172–80 Demetrieia (festival) 176–7 in drinking rituals 176, 195 n. 142 Kataibates 173 n. 35 Poliorcetes 167, 185 removal of honours for 176 n. 46, 177–8, 180 Rhodes, siege of 176 n. 46, 177 n. 58, 183–5 Soter, in Athens 172–80 Demetrius I of Syria 198–9 Diisoteria 77 n. 141, 145 Dion of Syracuse 168–9, 171 Dios(s)oteria 145 Dionysus, epithets of: Lysios 22, 216 Lyseus 216 Pseudanor 113 Soter, see Dionysus Soter Dionysus Soter: Dionysus Soter Pseudanor 113 geographical distribution of 129, 131 in Thrace 83 in warfare 83 Dioscuri: brings only aid but not harm 8 and maritime rescue 7, 11, 28, 90–1, 153 in Sparta 48 Dioscuri Soteres: described as soteres 4, 28, 28 n. 25, 42, 126 as divine specialists bearing functional epithets 154–6 geographical distribution of 155 in Histria (in the Black Sea) 90 and maritime rescue 90–1 on Tylos (in the Persian Gulf ) 90–1 Disoterion 80 n. 2

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Eileithyia: Artemis, association with 106, 107 n. 124 and childbirth 7, 107 soteira of women 107 n. 124 Sozousa Episozousa 107, 115–16 Eisityche Sozousa 19 n. 72, 136, 249 n. 2 elephants 96–8 eleutheria: and its cognates, earliest attestations of 37 n. 70 of Hellenistic cities 181 n. 76, 182, 193, 195–6 in Hellenistic royal ideology 172, 173, 206, 207 soteria, almost synonymous to 36, 54 soteria, distinguished from 36 n. 67 soteria, originally separate from 37, 54 soteria, relation to 18–19, 35–7, 43, 54 Eleutheria (festival): at Plataea 52–4 see also Zeus Eleutherios, at Plataea Eleutherios, see Zeus Eleutherios epiphany 55–6, 57–8, 60–4, 78, 104, 156 epithets, cultic: bare epithets 12, see also theonyms, omission of and belief 3, 152, 154 choice of 22, 50, 79, 162, 236 épiclétique fashion 161 épiclétique movement 118, 139–42 Greek influence on Roman use of 251–3 flexibility in use 22, 79, 115, 162, 228, see also epithets, related to Soter/Soteira functional epithets 5, 151 functions of 5, 8, 150–2, 205, 236–7 a homonymous god bearing the same epithet 12, 13, 14, 143–4, see also Zeus Soter, multiple cults of onomastic configurations 22 poetic epithets, relation to 22, 28 n. 23, 118–9 praise epithets 164 and royal nomenclature, see Hellenistic kings; Soter, Roman emperors as specific to a single deity 5, 151 theoretical analysis of 2–3, 5, 142–4, 151–2 topographic epithets 5, 26, 27 n. 15, 64, 79, 84, 151 trans-divine epithets 5, 6, 12, 14, 47–51, 118, 151, 162, 252 epithets, related to Soter/Soteira 21–2, 47–52, 79, 115, 236 Akesios 22, 67 n. 92 Akestor 22 Alexikakos 21, 67, 79, 88 n. 34, 115, 252 n. 26 Apotropaios 21, 67, 79

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 

epithets, related to Soter/Soteira (cont.) Asphaleios, see Poseidon, epithets of, Asphaleios Asphales 70–1 in earthquakes 109–10 Eleutherios, see Zeus Eleutherios Epekoos 5, 22, 92 n. 61, 98, 100 n. 98, 164 Epikourios 21, 67, 79 Erusiptolis, see Athena, epithets of, Erusiptolis Hedraios/Hedraia, see Ge Hedraia; Poseidon, epithets of, Hedraios; Zeus, epithets of, Hedraios Iater 22, 236 Lysios, see Dionysus, epithets of, Lysios Lyterios 22, 67 Medeon/Medeousa 47, 49 Phosphoros, see Artemis, epithets of, Phosphoros; Hecate Phosphoros; Zeus, epithets of, Phosphoros Phylake 22, 236 in plague 67 Polieus/Polias 49 Poliouchos 22, 47–8 Prostaterios 51, 236 see also Soter, related expressions; Soter, related terms in Homer eschatological hopes: ancient Greek expressions for 216–17, 228, 230 not expressed in soteria 216, 228 Euergetes: as a divine epithet 62 n. 71, 164, see also Asclepius Soter, and Euergetes; Roma Thea Euergetes as a royal epithet 166 n. 3, 204 and Soter, relation to 204 Eumenes II 159, 200 Eunomia Soteira 28 n. 23, 119 n. 4 Euripides 41–2 Flamininus 212 founders, see human ‘saviours’, founders of cities as the Gauls: and Hellenistic kings 159, 181 n. 71, 196–7, 199–202, 206 individuals affected by 84 invasion of Delphi, see Σωτήρια (festival), in Delphi Ge Hedraia 11–12, 109 Gelon of Syracuse 168, 171 gods: as city-protectors 47–52

complaints about 72 dark and positive sides of 9, 107, 152, see also, Soter, dark and positive sides of as a ‘deity network’ 14 divine functions, multiplicity of 7, 8 divine functions, overlaps in 8, 11, 142 divine intervention, areas of 6, 9 divine power, extension and modification of 13, 15, 60, 115, 144 divine power, more important than identity 12, 106, 163 divine power, variations in time and space 12–13, 144 efficacy, importance of 12, 14 and human fortune 9, 237 many gods’ favours are needed 48, 50, 65, 88, see also Soter, multiplicity of saviour gods needed natural gods, see rivers as soteres; winds as soteres paradigms for analysing 10–15 ‘patron’ divinity as a category 47–8 ‘saving’ and ‘blessing’ gods 157–8 timai in Panhellenic persona 12, 13, 89 unity and multiplicity of 5–6, 12, 142–4 unpredictability of 4, 143 grammar of honours 186 n. 94, 200, 209–10 Greeks, as desperately alien 45 Hagnon of Athens 35, 170 n. 19 Harpocrates 96, 97–8 Hecate, Black 244 Hecate Phosphoros: Artemis Soteira, close association with 57–8 in Byzantium 57–8, 141 n. 49 in Thera 143 Hecate Soteira: on Cos 72 n. 115 in the Greek mainland 12–13, 136, 147 Hecatesia (festival) in Lagina 63 in Lagina 13, 62–3, 136, 147 in Phrygia 136, 147, 161, 243–8 standardized use of 63, 161, 246 Helios: association with Apollo 70, 241 depiction in funeral reliefs 243 Helios Aniketos 92 n. 58 Helios Apollo 70 Helios Soter 139 priest in Alabanda 255 Rhodian influence 255 n. 49 receives dedication in Rome 164 saving-rays of 33 Hellenistic kings

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  the Antigonids, see Antigonus I; Antigonus II; Antigonus III; Demetrius I of Macedonia the Attalids, see Attalus I; Eumenes II; Philetairus cultic worship of, see Hellenistic ruler cults the Ptolemies, see Ptolemy I; Ptolemy IX the Seleucids, see Antiochus I; Antiochus III; Seleucus I; Demetrius I of Syria soteria in royal ideology, see σωτηρία (in Greek antiquity), in Hellenistic royal ideology see also Soter, divine saving and royal saving, relations to Hellenistic queens: see Ptolemaic queens; Seleucid queens Hellenistic ruler cults 172–213 sacrifice, see sacrifice, to Hellenistic kings; sacrifice, for Hellenistic kings worship of Roman emperors, different from 255 see also hero cults henotheism 164, 169 n. 18, 232 Hera, epithets of: Ourania 72 Soteira, see Hera Soteira Hera Soteira: ad hoc appearance 142 and Zeus Soter 136, 150 Heracles Soter: in Cassope 82–3 geographical distribution of 129, 132 in Panskoye 126 n. 24 and seafaring 7, 92 n. 61 and warfare 7, 82–3 Hermes Propylaios 51 n. 31 Hermes Soter 33 n. 51, 119 n. 4, 139 hero cults: divine honours for kings, different from 36, 166 for kings? 171 n. 23 see also Aratus; Brasidas; Dion of Syracuse heroes: with limited timai 151, 237 rarely called Soter 7–8, 151 saviour-heroes in myths 42 n. 102, 141 n. 52 see also Achilles Soter; Macaria; Sosineos; Sosipolis Heros Poliphylax 115 Heros Sosipolis 164 Homer: absence of Soter, Soteira, soteria, and soterios in 24, 26, 27 divine rescue in 3, 23, 24–8, 42, 47 related terms to Soter in 25, 27 related verbs to sozein in 25

313

homonoia: cultic worship of the concept 53, 163 on Metapontine coins 251 prayers for 87 human benefactors 69–70, 157 human ‘saviours’: the Argives as 33 in Aristophanes 38–40 the Athenians as 33 n. 53 without cultic implications 9, 39, 202 divine ‘saviours’, relative chronology to, see Soter, divine and human uses, roughly contemporary in everyday speech 33, 39, 44 n. 110, 202, 235 founders of cities as 35, 66, 183, 190–1, 201 Hellenistic monarchs, see Hellenistic kings; Hellenistic queens Medea as 33 n. 53 in mythology 41–2 Roman emperors 9, 212, 224 n. 68, 227, 254 Roman officials 24, 212, 251 non-royal 9–10, 38–9, 44, see also Aratus; Brasidas non-royal women 9 n. 33 saving power, more important than identity 213 in the Septuagint 218–19 social status, regardless of 39, 44, 202–3, 213 a spectrum of 39, 44, 202–3, 235 using words other than soter 25 n. 4, 27 n. 17 hygieia: cultic worship of the concept 163 on Metapontine coins 251 soteria, relation to 75, 84, 87, 106 Hygieia Soteira: and Asclepius, genealogical and/or cultic links with 136 and Asclepius Soter, see Asclepius and Hygieia, as Soteres in Epidaurus 104–5, 162 ὑπέρ: benefits not specified 20 hyper soterias of a community, private prayers 20, 72, 99 hyper soterias of a community, public sacrifice 20, 32, 73–6, 178 hyper soterias of oneself, others, and property 20 ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας πάντων τῶν ἰδίων 99, 100 meanings in prayers and dedicatory formulae 20 see also salus, pro salute; σωτηρία (in Greek antiquity), εἰς σωτηρίαν τῆς πόλεως, technical use of

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 

individuals: choice of gods 13, 21–2, 89–90, 114 personal names with the root sos- 4, 85 private and public soteria, closely related 14, 34, 71, 72, 78, 80 n. 3 private cult foundation 5 n. 14 roles of 4, 13, 21, 89, 115–16, 139, 185–7, 208–10 in the study of Greek religion 13 see also names, theophoric names Isis: Aphrodite, association with 141 n. 50, 150, see also Isis Soteira, Astarte and Aphrodite, association with foot of 104 and healing 7, 102 Isis and Sarapis: as Theoi Soteres 96, 97–8, 100 n. 98, 112, 129, 136 n. 38, 141 n. 50, 150, 210–11 Isis Soteira: Astarte and Aphrodite, association with 92 n. 61, 150 on Cos 72 n. 115 Isis Sozousa 192 n. 126, see also Eisityche Sozousa salutaris 252 without Sarapis Soter 129, 135 and seafaring 7, 86, 92 n. 61 sospitatrix 136 n. 34, 252 θεὰ πανσώτιρα 164 Juno at Lanuvium 253 Jupiter, epithets of: conservator 252 salutaris 71 servator 251–2 Kallinikos 166 n. 3, 204 καθιερόω 243–4 Kore: and Demeter as προκαθήμεναι θεαί 52 human sacrifice to 41 see also Persephone in Locri Kore Soteira: in Cyzicus 50, 76–7, 129, 147 outside Cyzicus 77, 129 in Didyma 141 n. 49 geographical distribution of 149 Koreia (festival) 76–7 in Megalopolis 129 Mysteries in Cyzicus 77 Phersephassia (festival) 77 Soteria (festival) 77, 147

libations: to Zeus Soter, see Zeus Soter, in drinking rituals see also Antigonus I, in drinking rituals; Demetrius I of Macedonia, in drinking rituals; Seleucus I, in drinking rituals Lysimachus 184, 195 λυσίπονα 107 n. 119 Macaria 42, 141 n. 52 Megara: cultic links with Byzantium 58 see also Artemis Soteira, in Megara Men Soter 100 n. 98, 139 Meter 85, 136 n. 36 Min 93 see also Pan, association with Min Mithras 164 Moirai Sozousai 19 n. 72 mystery cults 215–18 character of 16 possible Christian influence on 233 in Cyzicus, see Kore Soteira, Mysteries in Cyzicus of Dionysus 222 in Samothrace 91, 217 the language of σωτηρία, absence in 215–18, 228 see also eschatological hopes names: of boats 92 n. 57 of cities, see Soteira, name of Hellenistic city personal names, see individuals, personal names with the root sosof streets 191–2 theophoric names 103–4 natural gods, see rivers as soteres; winds as soteres the Nereids 28 n. 22 network approaches 140 new Panhellenic games 55, 57, 64, 77, 187 nike: cultic worship of 55, 56, 88, 163 soteria, relation to 18 see also Athena, epithets of, Nike nymphs: at the Crimean Chersonesus 60 n. 68 salutifer 252 oracles: of Ammon, see Ammon, oracle of of Apollo in Clarus 67, 71 of Apollo in Delphi 30, 32, 37 n. 75, 53, 56, 66, 68, 76, 88, 110 n. 138

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  of Apollo in Didyma 69 n. 101, 70 dice oracles 139 n. 42, 150 n. 84 of Phaennis 199–200 Orphism 222 Pan: Euodos 94, 95 and land travel 93–6, 150 Lyterios 67 and Min, association with 93–4, 150 and panic 56, 93 and sea travel 95 Pan Soter 93–6 not attested outside El-Kanais 93 Panamareia (festival) 64 Papas (or Papias), see Zeus Soter, Zeus Papas (or Papias) Soter παρίστημι 25, see also συνπαριστάμενος/ συνπαρισταμένη τῇ πόλει Parthenos in the Crimean Chersonesus: identification with Artemis 60 Partheneia (festival) 62 προστατοῦσα 51 saving epiphanies of 60–2 παυσιτοκεῖα 107 n. 119 peitho 163 Persephone at Locri 13 personification cults, see homonoia; hygieia; nike; peitho; σωτηρία (in Greek antiquity), cultic worship of the concept; salus, cultic worship of the concept Philetairus 201 Philip II of Macedon 170–1 Plataea, see Eleutheria (festival), at Plataea; Zeus Eleutherios, at Plataea Poliouchos 47–8 πολιοῦχοι δαίμονες 48 πολισσοῦχος (poetic form) 48 trans-divine epithet 48, 51 polis religion 4, 14 Poseidon: in Geraestus 27 and safety at sea 4, 27, 28, 29, 70, 89 n. 39 alongside a saviour god 71 n. 109, 88, 110, 122, 152–3 and stability of the earth 70, 71 n. 109, 72, 110, 152 and turbulence at sea 8, 11, 70, 152 without epithets 21, 87, 89 n. 39 Poseidon, epithets of: Asphaleios 11–12, 22, 70, 71 n. 109, 72, 87, 88, 109, 110, 115, 153 Enosichthon 110, 153 Hedraios 70–1

315

Hippios 153 n. 101 Panasphalios 153 n. 101 Pelagios 143, 153 n. 101 Phytalmios 5 Poliouchos 47 n. 11 Seisichthon 110 Sosineos 70 n. 108, 89, 115, 126 n. 22 Soter, see Poseidon Soter Poseidon Soter: and destruction 30, 31, 152–4 and earthquake 110, 126 n. 22, 152–4 in the maritime sphere 7, 8, 29–30 in the Persian Wars 29–30, 37, 126 Poseidon Asphale(i)os Soter megistos 70 rarity of 30, 88–9, 126 Price, Simon 172, 194 προεστώς/προεστῶσα τῆς πόλεως 52, 64 προθυραία 51 προκαθήμενος/προκαθήμενα τῆς πόλεως 52, 64 προπύλαιος 51, 108–9, see also Artemis, epithets of, Propylaia; Hermes Propylaios προστατήριος 51 προστάτης 51 προστατοῦσα 51, 62, 63, 83 n. 13 Ptolemaic queens 186–7, 191–2 Arsinoë II 191–2 Berenice I 186–7, 189, 191, see also Ptolemy I, and Berenice I as Theoi Soteres Berenice II 191–2 Cleopatra II 192 Cleopatra III 191, 192 Isis and Aphrodite, association with 192 Ptolemais Theron 96 Ptolemy I: and Berenice I as Theoi Soteres 186–7, 189, 190 n. 115, 191 in dynastic cult at Alexandria 190 Egyptian titulature, influence of 189 lifetime honours by individuals 185–7, 189–90 lifetime honours in Rhodes 183–5 posthumous honours 187–9 in Ptolemais Hermiou 190 Ptolemy IX 191 Ptolemaea (festival) in Alexandria 187–8 Pythia (festival) 55 rituals: and belief 2–3 high- and low-intensity 8–9, 78–9 rivers as soteres: a river in Macedonia 30–1 River Meles in Smyrna 105 Roma Thea Euergetes 63

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Romaia (festival) 63 Roman emperors, see human ‘saviours’, Roman emperors ῥύομαι 25, 28, 99 n. 94, 226, see also σῴζειν, and related verbs ῥύσια 106 sacred laws: as a source 18 as a category 18 n. 67 sacrifice: τὰ ἀγαθά, secured by 74 benefits extended to other beneficiaries 46, 73, 175 to Hellenistic kings 174–5, 179 n. 64 for Hellenistic kings 175, 179 n. 64 human sacrifice in myths 41–2 outcome reported to the boule 73–4 see also ὑπέρ; σωτήρια (thank-offering for deliverance) salus 249–56 cultic worship of the concept 249–50 human beings as 254 pro salute 249 Roman emperors as the source of 255 in Roman religion 249–52, 254, 255 Samothracian gods 91, 142, 156 see also mystery cults, in Samothrace Sarapis Soter: and Isis Soteira, see Isis and Sarapis, as Theoi Soteres without Isis Soteira 129, 135 Seleuceia (festival) 194 n. 140 Seleucid queens: Laodice III 192 n. 129, 198 Seleucus I: and Antiochus I as Soteres 193–5 in drinking rituals 195 honours in Aegae in Aeolis 193–6 honours in Asia Minor 194 and Lemnos 194–5 Sophocles 40–1 Sopolis, in Ephesus 164 Sosineos: as an epithet, see Poseidon, epithets of, Sosineos as a hero in Thorikos 89 n. 38, 141 n. 52, 163 Sosipolis: as an epithet, see Heros Sosipolis; Zeus, epithets of, Sosipolis as a hero in Elis 8 n. 26, 141 n. 52, 164 as a personal name 4 n. 10 σῶστρα 20 n. 75

Soteira: name of Hellenistic city 197 Latin expressions for 252–3 Pindar, first attested in 28 royal women as, see Hellenistic queens non-royal women as, see human ‘saviours’, non-royal women semantics of 19 unnamed, see theonyms, omission of see also Σώζουσα Soter: ad hoc ‘saviours’ 136, 142, 150 adjectival forms, see σωτήριος/σωτήριοι as an alternative expression for hopes of soteria 20 and arete (of gods) 116, 204 and arete (of men) 65, 169, 253 changing use of 161, 164–5, 210–12, 238 in city foundation 46 n. 3, see also human ‘saviours’, founders of cities as dark and positive sides of 8, 31, 152, see also Soter, harmful potential, juxtaposed with divine and human spheres, crossover between 205–6 divine and human uses, roughly contemporary 44, 213 and divine nature 152–6, 203 divine saving and royal saving, relations to 203–4 divine status, no direct correlation with 141, 237 and Euergetes, relation to, see Euergetes gods not attested as 142, 154 harmful potential, juxtaposed with 69, 110, 153–4 in the Homeric Hymns 28 human beings as, see human ‘saviours’ inanimate objects as 10 Latin expressions for 252–4 malleable nature of the word 205–6 meanings, gradation of 10, 14, 39, 205 ‘my saviour’ 104–6, 226–7 multiplicity of saviour gods needed 50, 114, 143 natural gods as, see natural gods non-Greek gods as 129, 135, 140, 141, 225, see also Atargatis Soteira; Bubastis Soteira; Isis and Sarapis; Targa (or Tarke) Soteira participle forms 19, see also Σώζων; Σώζουσα poliadic status, no direct correlation with 49, 50, 141 principal gods not so called 50 principal gods of some poleis as 50, 77, 89, 147

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  proclamation of 60, 83 reactionary and/or precautionary 50, 98, 157, see also σωτηρία (in Greek antiquity), in crises; σωτηρία (in Greek antiquity), precautionary related epithets, see epithets, related to Soter/ Soteira related expressions, see ἀστυνόμοι; προεστώς/ προεστῶσα τῆς πόλεως;προθυραία; προκαθήμενος/προκαθήμενα τῆς πόλεως; προπύλαιος; προστατήριος; προστάτης related terms in Homer 25, 27 in the Septuagint 218–20 Roman emperors as, see human ‘saviours’, Roman emperors royal title, see Hellenistic kings; Hellenistic ruler cults non-royal human beings, see human ‘saviours’ semantics of 19 standardized use of 89, 158–9, 161, 238, see also Apollo Didymeus Soter, semistandard reference to; Asclepius Soter, standardized use of; Hecate Soteira, standardized use of transmission of the epithet 140–1, 144 uneven distribution in the Greek pantheon 30, 93, 118, 150–1, 236 unnamed, see theonyms, omission of variations in Greek spelling 19 n. 71, 72, 111 see also Σώζων; σωτήριος/σωτήριοι σωτηρία (in Christianity) 1–2, 220–8, 233–4 biblical scholarship on 16–17 in early Christian dedications 230–1 in early Christian epitaphs 229–30 Jewish precedent for 218–20 related terms to 226 and sin 214, 222, 227 σωτηρία (in Greek antiquity): absolute use of 34 the afterlife, no relation to 3, 216–17, see also eschatological hopes anachronistic assumptions 2, 3, 215 biblical scholarship on 16, 215–16 Christian uses, continuities with 221–2, 227, 231, 233–4, 238 Christian uses, different from 3, 16, 214, 227, 237, see also σωτηρία (in Christianity) in Classical scholarship 15–16 in crises 6, 7, 8, 17, 21, 31–2, 34–5, 43, 54-5, 57–63 cultic worship of the concept 163, 250–1 εἰς σωτηρίαν τῆς πόλεως, technical use of 239–40

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eleutheria, relation to, see eleutheria English translations of 3, 45 in epitaphs 228–9 in Hellenistic royal ideology 173, 206, 207 ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας, see ὑπέρ of inanimate objects 31 from internal threats 38, 65–6 and marriage 9 n. 31 meanings, gradation of 3, 14, 35, 40, 43, 45, 82 multivalent nature of 31–5, 40–3 Panhellenic deliverance 19, 30, 38, 52–7, 68 the Persian Wars, under the impetus of 31–2, 42–3, 52 in philosophy 16, 216 n. 15 φόως as a metaphor for 28, 56, 58, 59, 67, 108 precautionary 6, 7, 8, 17, 21, 43, 73–7, 98, 106, 238 private and public soteria, closely intertwined 34, 71, 72, 78, 80 n. 3 related concepts to 18–19, 23, see also autonomia; eleutheria; hygieia restoration to former status 38–9 Roman concept closest to, see salus semantic analysis of 19 short-lived 96, 116–17, 220, 222, 237 and wealth 99–100 Σωτήρια (festival): in Akraiphia 145 in Cyzicus 76–7 in Delphi 11, 19, 54–7, 78–9, 145 in Megalopolis 145 in Pergamum 159 in Priene 54 n. 41, 65–6, 145 see also Diisoteria; Dios(s)oteria σωτήρια (thank-offering for deliverance) 17 n. 65, 19, 66, 82, see also σῶστρα; ζωάγριον σωτήριος/σωτήριοι: in Aeschylus, earliest attestations of 33 and cognate words 19 outcome of sacrifice 74 related adjectives 26, 27 saving rays of Helios 33 in Thucydides 34 see also theoi soterioi; Zeus Soterios Sourvinou-Inwood, C. 13, 14 n. 53, 144 σῴζειν: as an alternative expression to Soter/soteria 21 and cognates words 19 and its compounds 20, 21, 32 in epitaphs 228–9 participle forms, see Σώζων; Σώζουσα passive forms 21, 32, 85, 91–2, 94 perverted use of 41

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σῴζειν: (cont.) and related verbs 25, 27, 28, 33 n. 49, 106, 110 various forms of 19 n. 71, 25–6, 28 Σώζων (an Anatolian god) 139, 241–2 Σώζων (as an epithet): Θεοὶ σώζοντες 19 n. 72, 50, 72, 162 Θεοὶ σώισαντες 19 n. 72, 65, 163 see also Σώζουσα; Zeus Chalazios Sozon; Zeus Kasios Sozon Σώζουσα: see Aphrodite Sozousa; Eileithyia, Sozousa Episozousa; Eisityche Sozousa; Isis Sozousa; Moirai Sozousai; theai sozousai συμπαραστατῶν 82–3 συνπαριστάμενος/συνπαρισταμένη τῇ πόλει 63, 64, 83 n. 13 συμπαροῦσα 62 Targa (or Tarke) Soteira 129 τειμηθέντα ὑπὸ θεοῦ 243–8 Telesphorus 105 Telesphorus Soter 136, 143 n. 60 theai sozousai 192 n. 126 Themis Soteira 28 n. 23, 119 n. 4 Theoi Soteres: anonymous 12, 72, 162–3, 164 in Cos 72 n. 115 in Didyma 162, 211 Egyptian gods as 86–8, 209, see also Isis and Sarapis Roman senators as 251 in Sicyon 65–6 see also Ptolemy I, and Berenice I as Theoi Soteres; theoi soterioi theoi soterioi 19 n. 73, 162 theonyms: omission of 12, 104, 162–4 united different figures of the god 14 (Theos) Hypsistos 86, 92 n. 58, 98 Tyche Soteira: in cultic worship 136, 143 n. 60 in poetry 28 n. 23, 119 n. 4, 136 and seafaring 7, 86 see also Eisityche Sozousa Tyche Soter 33 n. 51, 72 n. 119, 119 n. 4 Vernant, J.-P. 11, 59, 163 n. 134 winds as soteres: Anemoi Soteres 116 Boreas 116 n. 164 Euros 116 n. 164

Zeus: association with Ammon 242 association with Baalshamin 92 and Hera, as Olympioi 50, 72 and Hera, as Soteres, see Zeus Soter, and Hera Soteira everything, ultimate control over 11, 12, 109, 114, 145 and human fortune 9 n. 32, 87 multiple Zeuses 5–6, 7 sovereignty over the sky and weather 11, 69, 87, 99 Zeus, epithets of: Agoraios 41 Alsenos 98 Ammon 242 Asphales 70–1 Basileus 6 n. 17 Bronton 99 Eleutherios, see Zeus Eleutherios Hedraios 70–1 Hellanios 68, 79 Hypsistos 72 Karpodotes 100 Ktesios 100, 120 n. 9 Meilichios 5, 6, 100 Olbios 100 Olympios 72 Osogo 62 n. 71 Ouranios 92 Panamaros 5, 62, 63–4, 79 Panhellenios 68 Pasios 120 Patroos 69 n. 101 Phosphoros 92 Ploutodotes 100 Polieus 49 Poliouchos 47 n. 11 Sarnendenos 99 n. 91 Sosipolis 4 n. 10, 75–6 Soter, see Zeus Soter Stratios 31 Zeus Chalazios Sozon: 7 n. 21, 69, 110 n. 143, 154 n. 102 Zeus Soter, possible difference from 8 Zeus Eleutherios: in the Athenian agora 18–19, 36–7, 52 n. 33, 112, 120, 177 at Plataea 37 n. 75, 52–4 and political freedom 15 n. 57, 36, 52–4, 177 Zeus Soter, interchangeable with 18, 36–7, 54 Zeus Kasios Sozon 19 n. 72

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 6/1/2022, SPi

  Zeus Soter: in Aegae in Aeolis 193, 211 and agriculture 6–7, 98, 157 in Antioch in Syria 71 Aristides sacrificed to 71 and Athena Soteira, see Athena Soteira, and Zeus Soter in the Athenian agora 36–7, 43, 52 n. 33, 112, 120 in Calydon 113 in Colophon 46 n. 3 on Cos 72 n. 115 in Delphi 11 in Didyma 162 in dreams of the Plataean general 37 n. 75, 52–3 in drinking rituals 29, 42, 119–120 as the earliest god called Soter 29 and earthquakes 7, 11, 70–1, 109–11, 115 festivals of, see Diisoteria, Dios(s)oteria, Σωτήρια (festival) occupies first place 87, 88 geographical distribution of 146 and Hera Soteira 136, 150 on Icaros (in the Persina Gulf ) 87–8, 153 in Megalopolis 77 n. 141 military men, dedications from 81 n. 6 as the most popular ‘saviour’ 7, 81, 114, 119, 145 multiple cults of 8, 18, 144

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multiple functions of 7, 10, 145 Panhellenic significance of 57, 82 in Panion in Thrace 200–1 and personal needs 40, 44, 80, 145 in Phigaleia 120 in the Piraeus 12 n. 42, 44, 77 n. 141, 80, 122 and political liberation 7, 15 n. 57, 65–6, see also Zeus Eleutherios, and political freedom in Priene 65–6, 163 rarely seen in action 11, 12, 57 religious associations of 145 in Rhamnus 81, 87, 122, 181 on Rhodes 145 and sacral manumission 112–13 other ‘saviour’ gods, juxtaposed with 11, 87, 88, 153 and seafaring 7, 21, 87, 92 in Thebes 41 n. 98, 122 and warfare 7, 15 n. 57, 33 n. 51, 81–2, 88 Zeus Aitherios Soter 69, 110 n. 143 Zeus Keraunios Soter 69, 110 n. 143 Zeus Papas (or Papias) Soter 139 Zeus Soter Hedraios 71 Zeus Soter Karpodotes 100 n. 98 (Zeus) Theos Soter Hedraios Asphales 70–1 see also Zeus, epithets of, Sosipolis; Zeus Chalazios Sozon; Zeus Kasios Sozon; Zeus Soterios Zeus Soterios 19 n. 73, 29 n. 28 ζωάγριον 66