Twins on Two Stages: The Dioscuri in the Performances of Sparta and Athens

Katharine Gavitt

Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Prerequisite for Honors in Classical Studies under the advisement of Professor Kate Gilhuly

May 2021

© 2021 Katharine Gavitt

Contents

Acknowledgements………………………………………………………………………………..3

Introduction………………………………………………………………………………………..4

Chapter 1…………………………………………………………………………………………..8 The Dioscuri and Twins in Sparta

Chapter 2…………………………………………………………………………………………30 Spartan Twins in Athenian Comedy

Chapter 3…………………………………………………………………………………………49 The Dioscuri in Euripides

Conclusion……………………………………………………………………………………….70

Bibliography……………………………………………………………………………………..72

2 Acknowledgements

Like a theater performance, this thesis came from the incredible community that surrounds me. I’m grateful to my many professors, mentors, and friends who have supported me throughout my time at Wellesley and made me into who I am today. Thank you to my advisor, Kate Gilhuly, the one person who was more excited about what I was writing than I was. I never would have imagined I would have been translating Alcman or even mentioning Sparta when I first came up with the idea for this thesis, but she saw the potential for where this project could go from the first day. Her comments were invaluable and I’m grateful for all the guidance she provided every step of the way. I would also like to thank the other members of my thesis committee: Bryan Burns, for allowing me to derail discussions in GRK 307 with my thoughts about the Dioscuri and Sparta and still offering to read more of them, and Helena de Bres, for being willing to join me on this project and learn about my highly specific opinions on twins. I only had the confidence to take on this thesis because of the many other classics professors I’ve had over the years, who have changed the way I approach the ancient world: my major advisor Ray Starr, who answered every question over the years and helped me grow from my first day at Wellesley; Jessica Wise, who reminded me why I love Latin; Carol Dougherty, who challenged me to face even the hardest Greek head-on; and Jeff Ulrich, who was the first to tell me I would someday write a great thesis. I am so fortunate to have had the chance to learn from every one of them. I’m also grateful to the committee of the Jerome A. Schiff Fellowship for accepting my research and funding my work. I never would have ended up studying classics at Wellesley without Melissa Dowling, who has guided me on my journey from childhood Greek camp, to high school Latin, to college applications, to this thesis. Thank you for being my Wellesley away from Wellesley this fall and shaping me into a proud classicist. Thank you to my family for all their love and support during the difficult year. To my parents, who instilled in me a love of theater from such a young age, I never would have come to this topic without you. To my younger siblings, Audrey and James, I’m glad you finally know at least a little about what I study, and I hope you can understand parts of this. I’m lucky to have been surrounded by so many wonderful friends, who have given me much needed food and hugs and distractions this year. Thank you especially to Emily Martin for reading everything as I wrote it and helping me turn it from Greek into comprehensible English. I hope we have time for even more group solitaire now that we’ve made it through. Finally, I owe the inspiration of this thesis to my own twin sister, Miranda. I’m glad we’ve turned out less like a Romulus/Remus and more like a Castor/Polydeuces (although I’m clearly the Polydeuces). You’ve been by my side for every moment, from birth to struggling through our theses together, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

3 Introduction

There is something about twins that captures the imagination. From real-life biographies of conjoined twins sharing a body to Shakespearean tales of mistaken identity, stories about twins draw us in. They allow us to examine themes of both similarities and differences, siblings who have so much in common while maintaining individual identities. Juliana de Nooy argues that twins’ lasting popularity in literature is due not to a singular meaning, but because they can be used to represent just about anything:

Pressed into the service of the imagination, twins can be used to signify not only the unconscious, the divided self, narcissistic love, death, and fear of sexuality, but also the nation, the couple, fertility, eroticism, chance, life choices, uncertain paternity, writing, reality versus image, monstrosity, race relations, sexual differences, indeed any kind of difference, any figure of the Other (another ethnicity, gender, class, sexuality), and any duality, and to explore nature/nurture debates in any field.1 Twins in literature are not identical to one another. Rather, they are specific to an author’s work and what theme they want to explore. What they mean is not defined simply by their identity as twins, but by what they mean to their community.

The Ancient Greeks are no exception. Greek mythology and literature are full of twins, and no two pairs are alike. Artemis and Apollo are both gods, each with their own divine domains but shared stories. Heracles and Iphicles, on the other hand, have little in common beyond their mother, and Iphicles is often invoked in comparison to his divine brother. The

Dioscuri are a sort of middle ground between Apollo and Artemis and Heracles and Iphicles.

Like Heracles and Iphicles, they are born of different fathers, one Zeus and the other Tyndareus, making one of them divine and the other mortal. Yet like Apollo and Artemis, they both become gods and are worshipped together. Castor and Polydeuces’ myth in its many versions throughout

1 de Nooy 2005, 4.

4 different times and people in the classical world can be associated with themes of brotherhood, comradery, mortality and death, and immortality and rebirth.

This thesis examines themes of duality in Sparta and Athens literature through the

Dioscuri. Through their invocations and depictions of Castor and Polydeuces, Spartan and

Athenian authors define their writings and communities in comparison with one another.

Because I am studying what the Dioscuri mean to these states as a whole, my literary analysis is centered around performances, choral poetry in Sparta and comedy and tragedy in Athens. These types of public displays were not the work of a single poet or historian writing alone, but an effort made by a larger group to share a message together. Between the roles of the poet, the performers, and the audience, the work is not only for but by the community it represents.

Although I draw on historians and other authors for context, it is through choral poetry and theater that Sparta and Athens project their self-image out into the world, so it is through these performances that their communal understanding of duality is shown.

I begin with a study of the myth of the Dioscuri and what it means to Sparta. Focusing on

Pindar’s Nemean 10, I show how the story of the Dioscuri balances the twins’ individual identities with their shared divinity. The inequality between Castor and Polydeuces from their birth is equalized in their death and deification, giving them a unique position among mortals and gods. Although this myth was clearly well-known and the Dioscuri were worshipped across

Greece, the story is centered geographically in Sparta, the place of their birth. Using Pausanias’s writings on the geography of Greece, I argue that these themes of both individuality and shared identity are essential to how Spartans worshipped the Dioscuri. Through their temples and festivals, the Spartans form a strong and unique connection to the Dioscuri in their divine duality. This duality is tied to Sparta’s government in its diarchy, the rule by two kings. In the

5 foundation of its state, Sparta’s dual kings are like the Dioscuri, a pair made equal to one another and therefore elevated above other individuals. The connection of Sparta and its rulers with duality is reaffirmed by its choral poetry, as I show in my analysis of Alcman’s Partheneion.

Alcman’s language celebrates duality and its role in leading and outshining the community. The

Partheneion is especially useful for this thesis, as all Athenian plays discussed in later chapters reference it. Studying Alcman and his receptions in Athenian works offers a rare and unique perspective in the study of Sparta because it allows for both an insider and outsider view of the culture. Spartan scholarship often runs into the problem of the “Spartan mirage,” a vision of

Sparta invented by Athenians and other foreign writers who frequently made Sparta into the strange other to their own society.2 Analyzing Alcman and comparing his work with how

Athenian playwrights interpret it can help to reconstruct a more authentic Sparta against its reputation abroad. Alcman’s work is essential not only to Sparta’s understanding of itself, but how it presents itself to others and how others understand it. While other scholars have studied

Alcman and allusions to the Partheneion in Athenian dramas, this thesis will show that these performances aided in the construction of identity between the two states, especially through the communities’ relationships with duality. The Partheneion provides the model of Spartan duality that Athens interprets.

My second chapter turns to Athens and how Aristophanes’ comedy Lysistrata engages with Sparta through duality. Written as the Athenians were meeting the Spartans on the battlefield in the Peloponnesian War, this play allows the Athenians as a community to confront

Spartan ideas of duality on their own stage through the comparison of Athenian and Spartan characters. The language of the Spartans connects them with the Dioscuri and others them from

2 A concept first introduced by Ollier 1933.

6 the Athenians, including the final choral ode of the Spartans that references Alcman. The play’s topic of a women’s sex strike also brings the theme of duality to gender roles, especially the pairing between husband and wife. The Athenians use the duality of married couples to oppose

Spartan twins and imagine a happy future for generations of families in Athens.

The final chapter looks at Athenian tragedy and Euripides’ use of the Dioscuri for his own works. Both his Electra and Helen reference the Dioscuri throughout and use them in the end as a sort of deus ex machina. For both plays, Euripides is engaging with characters and myths from other authors, especially Aeschylus’ Oresteia and Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. His major innovation that separates his version from others is his inclusion of duality and the

Dioscuri. In doing so, I argue that Euripides takes the myths and moves them away from Athens towards Sparta. His plays are something entirely new, not simply Athenian, but through the

Dioscuri, Spartan as well.

As with any twins, the Dioscuri are a product of their culture. The themes the Dioscuri represent to Spartans in Alcman are not the same as what they mean for Euripides. This thesis is not seeking to find a single definition for the Dioscuri. Instead, I show the way that each author uses them in his own unique way for different purposes. Aristophanes might depict them as

Spartan, but they aren’t the Dioscuri as they are in Spartan texts. Every different version of the

Dioscuri reveals what duality means for the author’s community and genre.

7 Chapter 1

The Dioscuri and Twins in Sparta

The myths about the Dioscuri are varied. They are briefly mentioned as members of the

Argonauts1 and the Calydonian Boar Hunt.2 But by the time of the Trojan War, Helen reflects that her brothers are notably missing.3 Their main myth, told in the most detail and most relevant to understanding their worship as gods, is of their birth and death. The finer points of this story vary just as much. The three Greek authors whose surviving works treat the myth most fully—

Pindar, Theocritus, and Apollodorus4—disagree about the twins’ lineage, cause of their death, and exact definition of their divinity. I have chosen to focus my analysis of the myth on Pindar, as the oldest complete version of the tale and the nearest contemporary of Alcman, whose work I will discuss later in this chapter. I will mention relevant similarities and differences with other authors’ versions, but Pindar’s treatment of the Dioscuri’s myth most closely relates to their worship for the time and culture.

Pindar dedicates the second half of Nemean 10 to the myth of the Dioscuri’s deification.

In this version, Castor was the mortal son of Tyndareus and Polydeuces the immortal son of

Zeus. Castor is mortally wounded over some cattle dispute with Idas, and Polydeuces retaliates by killing both Apharetidae (Idas and his brother Lynceus) with the help of Zeus. Polydeuces, returning to his dying brother’s body, begs Zeus to kill him too, so that they might remain together. Zeus offers him a choice: become a full god in Olympus beside his father or split his divinity with Castor. Polydeuces chooses the latter, and so the twins both become semi-divine,

1 Apollonius of Rhodes, Argonautica 1.146-150. 2 Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 1.67. 3 Homer Iliad 3.253-5 4 Pindar Nemean 10, Theocritus Idyll 22, and Apollodorus Bibliotheca 3.11.2 together spending half their time like the gods in the heavens and half like the dead under the ground.

Pindar’s version of the myth is the clearest about Castor and Polydeuces’ parentage. In their divine worship, the twins are together referred to as the “Διόσκοροι,” the sons of Zeus.5 But often they are also both called the “Τυνδαρίδοι,” the children of Tyndareus, including by Pindar.6

Pindar identifies Polydeuces with his mother when he stands alone against the Apharetidae

(“Λήδας παῖς,” 66), but as the son of Tyndareus (“ὁ Τυνδαρίδας,” 75) when he comes to his brother’s side. The identity of the twins’ through their parents constantly changes, with

Polydeuces only related to Tyndareus when connected to his brother, and Castor only able to spend time with “dear father Zeus” (“παρὰ πατρὶ φίλῳ Δὶ νέμονται,” 55-6) with his brother.

Despite the confusing patronymics, when Zeus comes to Polydeuces, Pindar uses the god’s words to set the record straight (80-2):

Ἐσσί μοι υἱός· τόνδε δ᾿ ἔπειτα πόσις σπέρμα θνατὸν ματρὶ τεᾷ πελάσαις στάξεν ἥρως.

You are my child; But then her husband, the hero, Having come to your mother, brought this mortal seed.

No matter what name they are called, Castor and Polydeuces have different lineages. In fact,

Castor was conceived with Tyndareus on a separate occasion, after (ἔπειτα) Zeus had begotten

Polydeuces. This difference in fathers is what causes the main distinction between the twins, as

Zeus points to this (τόνδε) brother, dying on the ground in front of Polydeuces, as coming from a birth that destined him for death (θνατὸν). His mortal father is the reason Castor is dying, where

5 This is especially frequent in Pausanias’s descriptions of Spartan geography, which will be discussed in a bit. 6 Nemean 10, 38. Also Theocritus Idyll 22, 211.

9 Polydeuces’ immortal father is what keeps him alive. The distinction between the two is key to their story. As much as the twins might share, Pindar does not deny that they are different individuals.

Pindar is the only author to directly address the difference in the twins’ fathers, but every version of Castor and Polydeuces recognizes them as separate, and even unequal, people. In

Theocritus, Castor fights Lynceus alone, referring to Polydeuces as “strong” (“κρατερὸς,” Idyll 22,

173) and himself as “born younger” (“ὁπλοτέρω γεγαῶτε,” 176). Like with Pindar, Polydeuces is the stronger sibling, and the comparison in their identities is founded from the moment of their birth. Apollodorus similarly assigns different identities to the twins at their birth: “τῶν δὲ ἐκ

Λήδας γενομένων παίδων Κάστωρ μὲν ἤσκει τὰ κατὰ πόλεμον, Πολυδεύκης δὲ πυγμήν” (“Of the children born from Leda, Castor practiced matters of war, Polydeuces boxing,” Bibliotheca

3.11.2). Each brother has his activity that defines him, separate from the other. In each myth of

Castor and Polydeuces, the authors work to distinguish the twins from one another, giving each of them an individual identity. From the moment of their birth, a naturally shared moment for twins, they are separated into two distinct people.

Differences between twins, especially based around their parentage, is not necessarily unique to the Dioscuri. Aristotle in his explanation of reproduction claims that although it is rare, a woman can sometimes give birth to two children from two separate fathers at the same time if she had the two separate sexual encounters within a short time period of one another.7 It’s a phenomenon today known as superfecundation, specifically heteropaternal superfecundation, and may have been one explanation for fraternal twins, although it was rarely mentioned in ancient texts outside of myth.8 In fact, the example of superfecundation that Aristotle provides is

7 Aristotle History of Animals 7.4.585 8 Dasen 1997, 50

10 Heracles and Iphicles, who according to myth were both born at the same time to Alcmene, but from different fathers (Zeus and Amphitryon respectively). Much like the Dioscuri, Iphicles and

Heracles are largely identified by their differences. There is little literature surrounding Iphicles, but a painted pot currently housed in the Louvre depicts the twins as an infant Heracles strangles a pair of snakes, and the twins are notably different: “To mark the different natures of the brothers, divine for Heracles, human for Iphicles, the painter carefully distinguished the physical appearances of the twins, which is uncommon in classical iconography: Heracles is strongly built with blond curly hair, whereas the thin Iphicles has dark sleek hair with fringe.”9

Detail from a red-figure stamnos, 5th century BCE, from Vulci. Heracles on the left and Iphicles on the right. Image from the Louvre Collections.

The twins are made to be easy to distinguish from one another, given identity from their differences. These differences, like the Dioscuri, stem from the differences in their fathers,

9 Ibid., 52-3

11 marking one brother immortal and the other mortal. For twins with separate fathers, like Heracles and Iphicles or Castor and Polydeuces, their identities are based on their differences.

What makes the Dioscuri remarkable is the way the two different brothers combine to become more like one person. Zeus’ offer to Polydeuces is that he “share an equal portion of all things” (“πάντων… ἀποδάσσασθαι ἴσον,” Nemean 10, 86) with his brother in death. When they are made divine, Castor and Polydeuces are made equal to one another in everything, no longer compared to each other. Polydeuces accepts this new equality without hesitation: “οὐ γνώμᾳ

διπλόαν θέτο βουλάν” (“he did not place a twofold plan in his mind,” 89). The very act of his decision defies the double nature (διπλόαν) that had defined them before. In their divine form, the brothers share “the same fate” (“πότμον…ὁμοῖον,” 57), now defined more by the ways in which they are the same. Pindar notes again that this was the deliberate decision of Polydeuces:

“τοῦτον…εἵλετ᾿ αἰῶνα φθιμένου Πολυδεύκης Κάστορος ἐν πολέμῳ” (“Polydeuces chose this life when Castor was dying in battle,” 58-9). The word order here is significant, since the line “seems purposefully contrived to show the closeness of the two brothers,” placing their names beside each other.10 Castor’s death and Polydeuces’ choice to share his life brings the two physically together in the poetry. They come together to become one person, combined from the two separate identities they had before.

But it is the differences between the twins that allow for their unique shared identity.

When Castor is dying, Polydeuces asks that Zeus “καὶ ἐμοὶ θάνατον σὺν τῷδ᾿ ἐπίτειλον” (“order death for me too with him,” 77). His vision of a shared existence with Castor (σὺν τῷδ᾿) is defined by his brother’s mortal nature, with Polydeuces falling down to join him in death

(θάνατον). But Polydeuces’ own divine nature won’t allow that, so instead balance is achieved by

10 Stern 1969, 129.

12 elevating Castor to Polydeuces’ immortal level. The brothers occupy a position between life and death, spending half their time like the gods and half the time like the dead. Because of the differences that defined the two of them, their continued existence had to fall in between their individual identities. It preserves who they were individually, so that together they are both alive and dead, mortal and immortal, at the same time. The equality that comes out of their differences defines their divine power. It is what sets them apart from other twins, such as Iphicles and

Heracles, who remain forever separate and distinct, never equalized. It is what also sets them apart from other gods and from mortals. The point at which the Dioscuri’s differences balance and they can become equals is a point which no others could achieve.

The myth of Castor and Polydeuces is based on this play between differences and equality.

Key to their story is their separate, distinctive individualities. In mortality alone, they are complete opposites. Those two opposites then combine to form a unique equilibrium. They lose much of their individuality in godhood, but not by becoming entirely like one or the other. Both twins contribute to their semi-divine existence. Their place of power exists because of the combination of their differences.

The mythology and this meaning of the Dioscuri is tied especially to Sparta. Even in this ode, Pindar refers to the twins as “εὐρυχόρου ταμίαι Σπάρτας” (“controllers of wide Sparta,” 52).

Sparta was considered the birthplace of the twins,11 and they became a central part of the state’s identity. This is not to say that Sparta was the only city to worship the Dioscuri. Athens, for example, had an ancient temple dedicated to the twins.12 But nowhere else is the presence of the

Dioscuri so constant as in Sparta. This can be seen in Pausanias’ Description of Greece, whose third book on Laconia is filled with imagery of the Dioscuri. It must be noted that Pausanias is

11 Pausanias 3.26.2-3 12 Pausanias 1.18.1

13 writing significantly later than many other sources considered in this chapter, and that his description of Sparta is not necessarily an accurate depiction of Sparta as it was for Pindar or

Alcman. However, the way the Dioscuri define the geography of Sparta even in Pausanias’ time is a testament to their prevailing connection to the land.

In Pausanias is a rare depiction of the twins as separate. He describes near the

Lacedaemonian Skias a “tomb of Castor” (“Κάστορος μνῆμα,” 3.13.1). This contrasts with the

“temple of Polydeuces” (“Πολυδεύκους ἱερὸν,” 3.20.1) on the road to Therapne. Where the twins are remembered and worshipped separately, there is a reminder of the crucial difference between them. Polydeuces, the twin with divine blood, has a temple like a god. Castor, the mortal twin, has a grave like a dead hero. Castor’s memorial especially is linked with the story of his death, as

Pausanias says it is near what some claim to be the tomb of the Apharetidae: “δείκνυται δὲ πρὸς

τῇ Σκιάδι καὶ Ἴδα καὶ Λυγκέως τάφος” (“and near the Skias is shown the tomb of Idas and

Lynceus,” 3.13.1). On his own, Castor is only remembered for the event that killed him, not the other myths that involved both twins and are celebrated elsewhere in Laconia. Like with the literature of the myth, in the Spartan memorials to the twins, there is no denying that the inequality that exists between them, because one is immortal and the other is not.

It is when the two are together that this mortal-versus-immortal divide is settled.

Pausanias describes above the tomb a temple (“ἱερὸν” 3.13.1) like the one for Polydeuces alone in Therapne and explains that “τεσσαρακοστῷ γὰρ ὕστερον ἔτει τῆς μάχης τῆς πρὸς Ἴδαν καὶ

Λυγκέα θεοὺς τοὺς Τυνδάρεω παῖδας καὶ οὐ πρότερον νομισθῆναί φασι” (“they say that not until the fortieth year after the fight with Idas and Lynceus were the children of Tyndareus held as gods,” 3.13.1). Pausanias’ reasoning is that the twins were not always worshipped as gods, so the temple was a later addition to the tomb once they were deified. Such an interpretation might be

14 true,13 although it is not in line with the mythology from Pindar and the others that holds the twins as gods at the time of Castor’s death. More of note here is the fact that the two are considered gods only in the plural (θεοὺς). This tomb is for Castor alone after his fight with the

Apharetidae, but it is both the sons of Tyndareus that come to be known as divine. When linked with his brother, Castor is elevated beyond the mortality of a hero so that both of them together can be remembered as gods.

Pausanias’ descriptions of the Dioscuri’s iconography continue the theme of the twins as distinct yet together. He describes in detail a throne made by Bathycles of Magnesia for Amyclae

(3.18.9-16). On it are a number of mythical figures and scenes, including the Dioscuri (3.18.14):

τοῦ θρόνου δὲ πρὸς τοῖς ἄνω πέρασιν ἐφ᾽ ἵππων ἑκατέρωθέν εἰσιν οἱ Τυνδάρεω παῖδες: καὶ σφίγγες τέ εἰσιν ὑπὸ τοῖς ἵπποις καὶ θηρία ἄνω θέοντα, τῇ μὲν πάρδαλις, κατὰ δὲ τὸν Πολυδεύκην λέαινα. On the upper side of the throne are the children of Tyndareus on horses on either side; And there are sphinxes under the horses and beasts running up, on the one side a leopard, on the other near Polydeuces, a lion.

Here is again a difference drawn between the twins, albeit a small one. The twins are opposite one another and each have a different animal on their side of the chair, the leopard and the lion, and only Polydeuces is called by his own name. The individual identities of the twins are used here to distinguish one side of the throne from the other. Yet they still have the shared identity as the sons of Tyndareus (οἱ Τυνδάρεω παῖδες) and serve to balance one another out on either side

(ἑκατέρωθέν). Despite the apparent difference between the opposite ends of the chair, the

Tyndaridae unite to make a single image shared with each other.

Their presence this way on a Laconian throne is not without significance. In their iconography, Spartans deliberately associate themselves with the Dioscuri and the way they are

13 On the trustworthiness of Pausanias regarding Sparta and his sources, see Meadows 1995.

15 both different yet the same. Beyond this throne, references to the Dioscuri fill Pausanias’ description of Laconia. Along the Spartan Dromos (racecourse) were a number of temples, including one to the Dioscuri (3.14.6), and nearby was a τρόπαιον (trophy) established by

Polydeuces after his victory over Lynceus (3.14.7). In Amyclae is a house where the Dioscuri apparently lived and visited once as gods (3.16.2-3). Near Therapne in Phoebaeum is another temple to the Dioscuri (3.20.2). A quarry in Croceae contains a bronze statue of the twins

(3.21.4). In Colchis is a temple to Athena said to be founded by them (3.24.7). Across wide

Laconia, with its many different local gods and heroes, the Dioscuri are a common element.

Their worship is present at every turn, defining the image of the Spartan lands.

It is not just the Dioscuri that are made a dual in myth, but others associated with them.

Their duality is almost contagious, spreading to mythical figures around them. Their two sisters

Helen and Clytemnestra are by some accounts twins, with separate fathers like the Dioscuri making Helen god-born and Clytemnestra mortal.14 In their rise to divinity, the Dioscuri fight another set of brothers, the two Apharetidae. This fight in some versions of the myth was brought on by Castor and Polydeuces’ rape of the two daughters of Leucippus, Hilaeira and Phoebe, and these Leucippides later become the twins’ wives.15 Regardless of whether or not any of these sets of siblings are in fact twins, as the sources for their birth are unclear, when connected with the

Dioscuri they are only ever presented as together, another inseparable pair like Castor and

Polydeuces.

14 Modern interpretations occasionally refer to the sisters as twins, although no ancient sources of their birth support this. The version of the myth that has the Dioscuri, Helen, and Clytemnestra hatching from eggs together was first attested by the First Vatican Mythographer, and this has become the more common visual for their birth, especially in artwork from the Renaissance. The origin of the sisters as twins, however, is unclear. 15 Apollodorus Bibliotheca 3.11.2

16 Just like the Dioscuri, these other pairs of siblings are worshipped together in Sparta.

Pausanias places the shared tomb of Lynceus and Idas near the tomb of Castor in the center of

Sparta (3.13.1). He also describes a temple to the Leucippides (3.16.1):

Πλησίον δὲ Ἱλαείρας καὶ Φοίβης ἐστὶν ἱερόν…κόραι δὲ ἱερῶνταί σφισι παρθένοι, καλούμεναι κατὰ ταὐτὰ ταῖς θεαῖς καὶ αὗται Λευκιππίδες. τὸ μὲν δὴ ἕτερον τῶν ἀγαλμάτων ἱερασαμένη τις ταῖς θεαῖς Λευκιππὶς ἐπεκόσμησε, πρόσωπον ἀντὶ τοῦ ἀρχαίου ποιησαμένη τῆς ἐφ᾿ ἡμῶν τέχνης· τὸ δὲ ἕτερον μὴ καὶ τοῦτο ἐπικοσμεῖν αὐτὴν ἀπεῖπεν ὄνειρον. ἐνταῦθα ἀπήρτηται ᾠὸν τοῦ ὀρόφου κατειλημένον ταινίαις· εἶναι δέ φασιν ᾠὸν ἐκεῖνο ὃ τεκεῖν Λήδαν ἔχει λόγος. Nearby is a temple of Hilaeira and Phoebe…. Young maidens serve as their priests, themselves called along with the goddesses Leucippides. The one of their statues some Leucippides priestess decorated, making the face in our style [i.e. contemporary to Pausanias] instead of old; but the other her dream forbid her to decorate. Here had been hung from the roof an egg wrapped with bands, and it is said to be that very egg which myth says Leda bore.

The imagery of the Leucippides’ worship is very similar to the Dioscuri’s. The two images of the goddesses are marked for their differences, with one having a modern (τῆς ἐφ᾿ ἡμῶν τέχνης) face and the other old (τοῦ ἀρχαίου). While the old face could have been redone to match the other, a dream tells the priestess to let the two remain different. But despite the differences in their appearance, Pausanias makes no real distinction between the two as goddesses and they are worshipped together under the same name in the same temple. Their temple is also explicitly linked to the family of the Dioscuri, with the egg from Leda hanging from the ceiling.16 Through their connection with the Dioscuri, the siblings are lifted up to be worshipped together. Unlike the

Dioscuri, whose worship Pausanias shows to have spread beyond Sparta, the Leucippides is a local cult. The divinity that exists with their duality only exists in Sparta. While other states might adopt

16 Following later stories that Clytemnestra and Helen hatched from eggs along with their brothers, it is technically possible that this egg belongs to either the Dioscuri or Helen. However, it is much more common for Helen in contemporary myth and imagery to be linked to the egg; for more on the meaning of Helen and the egg, see Hughes 2005, 22-8.

17 the myth and worship of the Dioscuri, Sparta celebrates twins in a way that no others do by embracing the other sibling pairs from the myth.

The doubles in the myth of the Dioscuri hold a particular importance to Sparta. The myth focuses on the way that in equalizing their differences, both twins share a unique position and power. Their worship reflects this, as they are treated as both dead heroes and divine gods. But

Sparta takes it further, extending the worship to the other doubles related to the Dioscuri, especially the Leucippides, who similarly achieve an elevated status together. This focus on the twins and the way that they balance these ideas of differences and equality is a part of Sparta’s unique identity, founded in the key mythology of their land.

The Spartan Government

Beyond just the worship of the Dioscuri, Spartan culture reflects the power of the twins in their duality. This is especially notable in the form of the Spartan government. Sparta was a diarchy, a single land ruled by two separate lines of kings. Although by the time of the reforms of Lycurgus the kings were not the primary lawmakers, they held key powers jointly, most importantly to declare war.17 This double-kingship was unique to Sparta and a central part of its foundation myth. The identity of the Spartan state is based on the duality in their government.

According to Spartan myth, the diarchy was founded by a set of twins. As Herodotus tells it,18 the wife of Aristodamus, the founder of Sparta, gave birth to twin boys. When Aristodamus died shortly after, the rule was to pass to the eldest, but the twins were “ὁμοίων καὶ ἴσων” (“the same and equal”) and their mother claimed to not know which was older. The Spartans call upon the Delphic Oracle, who tells them to “ἀμφότερα τὰ παιδία ἡγήσασθαι βασιλέας, τιμᾶν δὲ μᾶλλον

τὸν γεραίτερον” (“hold both children as kings, but to honor more the older”). Following the

17 Herodotus 6.56 18 Herodotus 6.52

18 suggestion of the Messenian Panites, the Spartans then watched the mother to see if she tended to feed and wash one child first. When she consistently gave preferential treatment to the son she knew to have been born first, they declared him to be the older. Thus Eurysthenes, the older brother, and Procles, the younger, were both made king, and from each of them came the two lines of the diarchy, the Eurypontids and Agids.

This myth is uniquely Spartan. Herodotus notes that “ταῦτα μὲν Λακεδαιμόνιοι λέγουσι

μοῦνοι Ἑλλήνων” (“The Lacedemonians alone of the Greeks say this,” 6.53) and the more common story among the Greeks has the kings descended from Perseus. The legend of the identical twins is the origin of Sparta as Sparta chooses to tell it. This foundation myth contrasts sharply with autochthonous origin myths like that of Athens that define the people as a part of their land. The self-definition of Sparta is instead based around twins who are both different and the same.

The balance of similarities and differences in the myth of these twins mirrors that of the

Dioscuri. The individual identities of the brothers come from what makes them different, namely their birth order. The one brother is treated differently by his mother because he is older, and it is only once this distinction is made between the two that Herodotus gives the boys names. But in all other respects, the twins are the same (ὁμοίων), equal (ἴσων) to one another, and because of this the rule is shared by them. Just as Castor and Polydeuces achieved a unique form of divinity by the equalizing of their differences, when Eurysthenes and Procles’ equality formed the unique Spartan diarchy.

Other small details of this myth are similar to the Dioscuri. The Spartan kings are likewise descended from Zeus, as Heracles was an ancestor of Aristodamus.19 Like the Dioscuri, this gives

19 Sahlins 2011 describes in more detail the supposed lineage of the Spartan kings.

19 the Spartan kings a certain divinity, a partial immortality from their father. Eurysthenes and

Procles also married twins, Lathria and Anaxandra, daughters of Thersander. Like the temple to the Leucippides, Lathria and Anaxandra shared a notable tomb in Sparta.20 In the same way that the duality spread from the Dioscuri to other parts of their myth, the duality from the two kings extends to their wives, and the women are then given special honor from their connection.

Because of the twin wives, the Spartan royal lineage is double on both sides, making the duality just as much a central focus of the myth as it was in the Dioscuri’s.

Also like the Dioscuri, the two kings rise above the rest of society in their duality. In addition to their important role in leading wars, Herodotus describes the privileges of the kings in peacetime (6.57):

ἢν θυσίη τις δημοτελὴς ποιέηται, πρώτους ἐπὶ τὸ δεῖπνον ἵζειν τοὺς βασιλέας, καὶ ἀπὸ τούτων πρῶτον ἄρχεσθαι διπλήσια νέμοντας ἑκατέρῳ τὰ πάντα ἢ τοῖσι ἄλλοισι δαιτυμόνεσι, καὶ σπονδαρχίας εἶναι τούτων καὶ τῶν τυθέντων τὰ δέρματα.

Whenever any public sacrifice is made, the kings sit first at the feast, and they serve to each of them first twice as much of everything than they serve to the other guests, and the right of the first libation and the hides of the sacrifices is the kings’.

At feasts, the status of the kings is clearly above everyone else at the meal. Their duality is reinforced, as they are each given a double serving (διπλήσια). Herodotus uses the double portions to directly compare the kings to others (τοῖσι ἄλλοισι), and it is this doubleness that sets them apart. Despite the differences between the twin kings in the mythical origin, where the firstborn twin was always fed first by their mother, the kings here are treated as equal to one another, both given this preferential treatment. When doubled, they both rise to a position above others, so that both kings are fed first before those lesser than them. In eating extra portions and taking the hides of the sacrifices, the kings become like gods themselves, as they have the role of

20 Pausanias 3.16.6

20 “the one who consumes the offerings.”21 Just like the Dioscuri, when the two kings equalize their original differences, they achieve a higher, semi-divine status that makes them unique among other men.

The use of equalizing different people to elevate them above others spread beyond just the two kings. There is no denying that Spartan society, like any other state, was full of inequality— the existence of the diarchy, where two people were born with more power than everyone else, is proof of that. Yet the Spartan citizenry called itself “Ὅμοιοι” (Homoioi), men who are the same or equals, not because they were truly all equal to one another, but “because they were all equal and alike on one respect only, in being members of the dominant military master-caste.”22 The equality between Spartan citizen men only existed as a social class that was made to distinguish members from the subjugated Helots. It’s a larger scale than just the two kings, but the whole of

Spartan government that is still built around the same ideas about equality from the myth of the

Dioscuri. When made equal, even if just in name, the Homoioi define themselves separately from, and superordinate to, other people.

The myth of the Dioscuri and what it represented was an important part of Spartan culture and was reflected in the organization of the Spartan state. The Dioscuri were different from each other in parentage, but when made equal to one another, they rise above mortals to become gods.

The twin founders of the Spartan diarchy were different in birth order, but when made equal, they rise above the rest of Sparta as divine-like rulers. All the Homoioi were different from each other in many ways, but when made equal they rise above Helots and other people around them as the ruling class. The equalizing of differences is what gives all of them their unique power. Beyond

21 Sahlins 2011, 69. 22 Cartledge 2003, 29.

21 just using the Dioscuri in worship, Sparta defines itself by this balancing of differences to elevate themselves above others.

Duality in Spartan Performance

The importance of twins and duality to Spartan identity can be seen in Spartan literature, specifically Alcman’s Partheneion, the chorus-song of Spartan women. Despite the poem’s fragmentary nature, the imagery of doubles in it stands out and is used to reassert twins as an integral part of the Spartan community. As mentioned in the introduction, this aspect of community is especially relevant to a choral poem due to the shared nature of the work. Even the women participate, in fact having the key role, despite being typically left out of other religious and political aspects of Spartan life. The role that twins and doubling has in this poem is therefore affirmed by the community as a whole, as they all work together to bring it out into the public.

Studying Alcman is particularly useful in this discussion about Spartan identity, as he is one of the only Spartan authors that remains for us today. His actual birthplace has been debated by ancient and modern scholars, with some claiming he was Lydian, but less debated is the fact that his writing was directly tied to Spartan culture and was written specifically for performance in Sparta.23 Moreover, his memory and legacy is Spartan, as Pausanias says he is buried there (in fact, right near a sanctuary to Helen)24, and it is through the geography of Sparta that Pausanias remembers his poetry.25 Regardless of his birthplace and whether the Partheneion was a commission, Alcman’s poetry is Spartan. Unlike Herodotus or Pausanias, it was written to be a part of Spartan culture, as the community embraced it in their own performances. Alcman’s

23 Campbell 1967, 193. 24 Pausanias 3.15.3 25 Pausanias 3.15.2

22 Partheneion is one of the only texts that was Spartan in this way, because the Spartan community used his poem as a public image of themselves.

Alcman’s language is known for playing with twins and duality. A fragment of a grammatical text attributed to Herodian cites a papyrus scrap from the second ode from Alcman for the poet’s distinct style:

Ἀλκμανικὸν δὲ τὸ μεσάζον τὴν ἐπαλλήλων ὀνομάτων ἢ ῥημάτων θέσιν πληθυντικοῖς ἢ δυϊκοῖς ὀνόμασιν ἢ ῥήμασι . . . πλεονάζει δὲ τοῦτο τὸ σχῆμα παρ᾿ Ἀλκμᾶνι τῷ λυρικῷ, ὅθεν καὶ Ἀλκμανικὸν ὠνόμασται. εὐθὺς γοῦν ἐν τῇ δευτέρᾳ ᾠδῇ παρείληπται· Κά[στωρ τε πώλων ὠκέων] δματῆ[ρε]ς [ἱ]ππότα[ι σοφοὶ καὶ Πωλυδεύκης] κυδρός The Alcmanic figure is the one which inserts plural or dual nouns or verbs between (singular) nouns or verbs which belong together . . . This figure is used to excess in the lyric poet Alcman, so that it is called Alcmanic. There is no need to go further than the second ode for an example: “Castor—tamers of swift steeds, skilled horsemen—and glorious Polydeuces.”26

The Alcman quote defining his style is about the Dioscuri. The grammar of it balances the twins’ singularity and duality. They share their glory as horsemen, but the line is bookended by their individual identities. The use of the dual that unites them together does not deny the fact that they are separate figures. The dual descriptors actually physically separate their names on the line, so that their common nature further stresses the difference in the individuals. The final

“κυδρός” is a singular adjective, applied only to Polydeuces to distinguish him after the dual adjectives he shared with his twin.

This device that uses the dual and singular to create both shared and individual identities is so connected to Alcman that it is named after him. It is not unique to Alcman. For example, there are four uses of the Alcmanic figure in Homer, and the grammarian Aristarchus specifically noting one in the Iliad:27 “ἧχι ῥοὰς Σιμόεις συμβάλλετον ἠδὲ Σκάμανδρος” (“where Simoeis and

26 Edmonds 1922, 376. The quote from Alcman is actually fragmentary, only reading “Κάστωρ . . . κυδρός,” but is restored from the scrap of papyrus of the ode. 27 Schironi 2018, 205-6

23 Scamander both bring together their streams,” 5.774). Aristarchus says that in this line Homer purposely placed (“τέταχεν”) the dual verb in between the singular nouns it goes with, when he ought to (“ἔδει”) have put the verb at the end.28 Poetically, Homer’s usage of the figure here creates an image of two rivers meeting in the middle and becoming a single unit, while still preserving their individual origin points with their names on either side of the verb. Aristarchus explains the naming of the Alcmanic figure similarly to Herodian: “καλεῖται Ἀλκμανικόν, οὐχ

ὅτι αὐτὸς πρῶτος ἐχρήσατο, ἀλλ’ ὅτι τῷ τοιούτῳ ἔθει πεπλεόνακε” (“It is called Alcmanic, not because he said it first, but because he excessively used this habit”).29 Homer, writing before

Alcman, would not have called the technique he used here Alcmanic, and he is not purposefully alluding to another poet. Despite the fact that Alcman was not the first, as Aristarchus acknowledges is clear from the very work he is studying, this special use of the dual is still tied with Alcman’s identity. Only the one use of it in Alcman’s own poetry survives, but his work was so full of it (“πεπλεόνακε”) that it belongs to him. The legacy of Alcman’s language is one defined by twins, specifically in the way he describes the Dioscuri. His poetry gives the name for how Greek can use grammar to handle duality and singularity at the same time.

While there are no instances of this Alcmanic figure in what remains of Partheneion 1,

Alcman still incorporates twins and duality into the poem. How the poem directly ties to the

Dioscuri is a little unclear. The first fully legible word is “Πωλυδεύκης,” Polydeuces in the nominative, but the verb of which he is the subject is lost, along with the context of his role in the poem. The following lines list the names of the killed sons of Hippocoon (2-5), who are slain by Heracles in most versions of the myth.30 It has been suggested that Alcman is providing here

28 Erbse Scholia Graeca in Homeri Iliadem (scholia vetera), 5.774 29 Ibid. 30 Apollodorius 3.10.5 and Pausanias 3.14.6

24 an otherwise unknown local version of the story, where the sons of Tyndareus, who was the brother of Hippocoon, fight with the Hippocoontids, either to claim the Spartan throne for their father or because the Hippocoontids were rival suitors for the Leucippides.31

The latter explanation, that the Dioscuri and Hippocoontids were fighting over the

Leucippides, would make the most sense with the context of the rest of the poem. Scholars are generally in agreement that the Partheneion was tied to the cult of the Leucippides in Sparta.32 A

“partheneion” was performed by the παρθένοι, young marriageable women, such as the

Leucippides, and centers around the desire and eventual marriage of the two παρθένοι. By representing themselves like the Leucippides, the chorus of this poem presents themselves in public as desirable wives within the local mythology of Sparta.33 Although the Leucippides are not mentioned by name, the imagery of the song, especially around the two chorus leaders Agido and Hagesichora, supports this connection. Agido and Hagesichora are imagined multiple times as horses (46-49, 50-51, 59, 92), especially to show how they stand out from the rest of the chorus, as in lines 46-48:

δοκεῖ γὰρ ἤμεν αὔτα ἐκπρεπὴς τὼς ὥπερ αἴτις ἐν βοτοῖς στάσειεν ἵππον παγὸν ἀεθλοφόρον καναχάποδα

For she [Agido] seems Distinguished, as if someone Stood a horse among grazing beasts, Study, prize-winning, with thundering hooves

Horses were common imagery with the Dioscuri and Leucippides, as the Dioscuri were famously horsemen and the name Leucippides means “white horses.” The combination of the horse

31 Garvie 1965 32 Nagy 1990; Garvie 1965; Robbins 1994. 33 On the desirability of the chorus and chorus leaders, see Stehle 1997, 30-9.

25 imagery with the παρθένοι make-up of the chorus suggests that this poem is invoking the

Leucippides, perhaps even featuring the priestesses as the chorus leaders in the dance.34 In her depiction as a horse, connected with the Dioscuri, Agido is conspicuous (ἐκπρεπὴς) from the rest of the chorus, the winner (ἀεθλοφόρον) standing out from the other beasts in the field. It is directly through this connection with the Dioscuri and Leucippides from the horses that Agido gains her status and praise, allowing her to be distinguished above others.

Even if the myth of the Dioscuri and Leucippides is not actually present in this poem, the ideas about duality that they represent are. Just as Castor and Polydeuces had a clear hierarchy from their parentage, Agido and Hagesichora are directly compared to one another to establish a ranking between them (57-9):

Ἁγησιχόρα μὲν αὕτα· ἁ δὲ δευτέρα πεδ᾿ Ἀγιδὼ τὸ ϝεῖδος ἵππος Ἰβηνῶι Κολαξαῖος δραμήται·

This is Hagesichora; But she who is second in beauty, Agido, Will run like a Colaxaean horse with an Ibenian.

The pair are made separate on the lines, with the coordinating “μὲν” and “δὲ” further emphasizing their distinction from one another. They are in competition, like two horses running a race, and

Agido is put into second place (δευτέρα). In the same way that the Dioscuri were distinguished from one another because of the difference in their fathers or the original twin kings of Sparta because of the difference in their birth, Hagesichora and Agido are distinguished from each other in beauty. There is no denying that one is better than the other, at least in respect to that one specific thing.

34 Robbins 1994, 13-4.

26 Yet even in competition with each other, both chorus leaders clearly stand out from the rest of the chorus. When Agido is likened to a horse, she is a distinguished winner among the common animals. She shines with a light like the Sun (39-41), outshining anyone else. Hagesichora similarly is singled out for her outstanding beauty, which is like “unblemished gold” (“χρυσὸς [ὡ]ς

ἀκήρατος,” 54). While the rest of the chorus’s song is like “an owl screeched in vain from the rooftop” (“μάταν ἀπὸ θράνω λέλακα γλαύξ,” 86-7), Hagesichora’s singing nearly rivals the Sirens themselves (96-8). This praise from the chorus “is based on difference: she is wonderful because she is so much better than they.”35 Both Hagesichora and Agido rise above the chorus, singled out in their singing and beauty. All their praise comes from a point of comparison, by being able to outshine, outperform, stand out from everyone else.

Despite their clear differences, both chorus leaders are equally distinguished from the others in the poem. Alexander Dale has recognized that the two share a position above the chorus: “Agido and Hagesichora are, as is now generally recognised, primae inter pares; the comparisons between them, most notably at lines 50-9, are meant to signal not the inferiority of one to the other, but the superiority of both to anyone else, rank and file of the chorus included.”36 It is debatable that the comparison between Agido and Hagesichora does not make one inferior to the other especially, since in line 58 the chorus places Agido behind in second place. But as with the Dioscuri, it is through the comparison of their differences that they stand out from everyone else. Despite their competition and differences, the two come together (78-

81):

οὐ γὰρ ἁ κ[α]λλίσφυρος Ἁγησιχ[ό]ρ[α] πάρ᾿ αὐτεῖ, Ἀγιδοῖ [δ᾿ ἴκτ]αρ μένει

35 Stehle 1997, 77. 36 Dale 2011, 26

27 θωστήρ[ιά τ᾿] ἅμ᾿ ἐπαινεῖ;

For is not beautiful-ankled Hagesichora there, And remains close by Agido And approves our festivals?

Hagesichora and Agido stand together, close to (ἴκταρ) each other when leading the festival. The

Dioscuri shared a semi-divine status above mortals when they came together out of their differences. Hagesichora and Agido similarly share a status as leaders above the chorus, with much of their praise coming from their comparisons. When they stand together, they stand apart from everyone else.

Together, the pair share the highest status in the chorus. As Greg Nagy has noted, their names, Hagesichora and Agido, not only both mean “leader” of the chorus, but also tie them to the royal houses of Sparta, suggesting that the roles would be played “by real royalty or aspiring royalty.”37 Even in the reality outside of the poem, the two women held a status above the others in the chorus, a status directly tied to Sparta’s dual kingship. The dynamics of their duality is not merely imagery in the poem, but a reflection of real Spartan systems of power. Hagesichora and

Agido lead the chorus through their differences as the Spartan royals that portrayed them led the state through their different bloodlines.

Duality serves to lift twins to a unique position above others in Sparta. In this choral performance, the Spartan community came together to celebrate this idea of duality. The way that the comparison of Hagesichora and Agido allows them to distinguish themselves from the chorus mirrors the Dioscuri and twin kings of Sparta. It ties duality to Spartan identity, affirmed by both

37 Nagy 1990, 347-9.

28 the performers and audience. Pairs and twins are a part of how Sparta defines itself in the public eye, how it sees and presents itself to the rest of the Greek world.

29 Chapter 2

Spartan Twins in Athenian Comedy

Duality and twins were a key part of Sparta’s identity, and that identity spread beyond

Sparta itself. Through both peacetime activities, like performances of Alcman’s twin-filled dance at Panhellenic celebrations, and wartime activities, like the use of twin iconography by military troops, Sparta shared its ideas of duality with the rest of Greece. More than just a self-identity, duality was a way for other people to define and understand Sparta. This was especially true in

Athens. As Athens grew alongside Sparta as rival powers throughout the fifth century, it was forced to confront the Spartans and the duality that defined them.

One way that Athens confronted Spartan duality was through theater. Just like Spartan performances of Alcman’s Partheneion, Athenian drama was an expression of communal identity. For plays written during the Peloponnesian War, a part of forming that identity was in comparison to Sparta. By emphasizing what made Sparta different, including its relationship with twins, Athens separated out itself in contrast. This confrontation of the other is more easily noticeable in comedy, which featured groups not normally a part of other civic conversations, including foreign people like the Spartans. Depicting Spartans on the Athenian comic stage allowed the Athenian community to face Spartan duality and define themselves against it.

Spartan duality plays a central role especially in Aristophanes’ Lysistrata. Written in 411 in the midst of the Peloponnesian War and following Athens’ crushing defeat in Sicily, the play presents a strange story of peace between Sparta and Athens, led by a women’s sex strike. The play’s numerous Spartan characters put Spartan duality directly onto the Athenian stage and showed how the Athenian characters, and through them the city of Athens, dealt with it. Jeffery

Henderson has argued that the competitive nature of Athenian theater transforms the stage into an arena for political debate where the audience of Athenian citizens decides the winner.1 The debate here between Athens and Sparta is one-sided, putting Spartan ideas on trial against

Athenian, but from an entirely Athenian point of view. Lysistrata in its depictions of twins help the Athenian public to question duality from Sparta. As a wartime play, depictions of the enemy in the space of the theater allowed the community to face Sparta off of the battlefield and together confront the ideologies presented against them in war.

Spartan Duality in War

At the time of the Peloponnesian War and the writing of Lysistrata, twins were central to

Sparta’s identity in Greece, especially in war. Sparta’s relationship with twins and duality was unique, and it marked them as different from other Greek peoples. For example, Herodotus in his explanation of the Spartan diarchy describes the funerary customs for the king (6.58):

ἱππέες περιαγγέλλουσι τὸ γεγονὸς κατὰ πᾶσαν τὴν Λακωνικήν, κατὰ δὲ τὴν πόλιν γυναῖκες περιιοῦσαι λέβητα κροτέουσι. ἐπεὰν ὦν τοῦτο γίνηται τοιοῦτο, ἀνάγκη ἐξ οἰκίης ἑκάστης ἐλευθέρους δύο καταμιαίνεσθαι, ἄνδρα τε καὶ γυναῖκα· μὴ ποιήσασι δὲ τοῦτο ζημίαι μεγάλαι ἐπικέαται. νόμος δὲ τοῖσι Λακεδαιμονίοισι κατὰ τῶν βασιλέων τοὺς θανάτους ἐστὶ ὡυτὸς καὶ τοῖσι βαρβάροισι τοῖσι ἐν τῇ Ἀσίῃ· τῶν γὰρ ὦν βαρβάρων οἱ πλεῦνες τῷ αὐτῷ νόμῳ χρέωνται κατὰ τοὺς θανάτους τῶν βασιλέων. ἐπεὰν γὰρ ἀποθάνῃ βασιλεὺς Λακεδαιμονίων, ἐκ πάσης δεῖ Λακεδαίμονος, χωρὶς Σπαρτιητέων, ἀριθμῷ τῶν περιοίκων ἀναγκαστοὺς ἐς τὸ κῆδος ἰέναι. τούτων ὦν καὶ τῶν εἱλωτέων καὶ αὐτῶν Σπαρτιητέων ἐπεὰν συλλεχθέωσι ἐς τὠυτὸ πολλαὶ χιλιάδες σύμμιγα τῇσι γυναιξί, κόπτονταί τε τὰ μέτωπα προθύμως καὶ οἰμωγῇ διαχρέωνται ἀπλέτῳ, φάμενοι τὸν ὕστατον αἰεὶ ἀπογενόμενον τῶν βασιλέων, τοῦτον δὴ γενέσθαι ἄριστον. ὃς δ᾿ ἂν ἐν πολέμῳ τῶν βασιλέων ἀποθάνῃ, τούτῳ δὲ εἴδωλον σκευάσαντες ἐν κλίνῃ εὖ ἐστρωμένῃ ἐκφέρουσι. ἐπεὰν δὲ θάψωσι, ἀγορὴ δέκα ἡμερέων οὐκ ἵσταταί σφι οὐδ᾿ ἀρχαιρεσίη συνίζει, ἀλλὰ πενθέουσι ταύτας τὰς ἡμέρας. Horsemen announce what has happened through all of Laconia, and through the city women going around strike a kettle. Whenever this happens, it is required for two free people from each house, a man and a woman, to wear clothes of mourning; should they not do this, heavy fines are placed on them. The custom for these Lacedaemonians about the deaths of the kings is the same for the barbarians in Asia. The majority of barbarians use the same custom about the deaths of the kings. Whenever a king of the Lacedaemonians dies, it is necessary for a number of those from their subject neighbors [περιοίκοι], apart from the Spartans, to come from all of Lacedaemon to the funeral. When many thousands

1 Henderson 1990.

31 of these people and the helots and the Spartans themselves gather into the same place mixed with the women, they strike their brows zealously and practice endless wailing, saying that whichever of the kings who has died most recently, that he was the best. Whichever of the kings died in war, making an image of him they carry it out on a well- decorated bier. When they bury him, for ten days no meeting is made for them nor election held, but they mourn for these days.

Herodotus’s non-Spartan perspective of the kings makes them seem barbaric and other. The funeral was notably initiated by a forced duality, where a pair from each home must openly mourn together or face a heavy penalty. The entire population—free Spartans and helots, men and women—were then made equal in their morning, all together less than the king they call the best (ἄριστον). Society could not move forward when one part of the dual kingship died in war, stopping all business and politics for 10 days. The dual kings’ position in society and the way it spread ideas of duality and equality throughout the rest of society follows general Spartan thinking about duality as discussed in the previous chapter. This whole practice is so strange that Herodotus cannot make it familiar to anything in the rest of the Greek world, but instead compares it to foreign Asia:

Herodotus’ treatment of Spartan royal funeral custom suggests that they, too, are not part of the matrix of common knowledge and shared cultural vocabular that forms the basis of communication between him and his audience. Spartan royal obsequies, in other words, remain both unintelligible and untranslatable in the face of the Hellenic cultural vocabulary that Herodotus has at his disposal.2

In addition to the foreignness of the funerals, Herodotus’s treatment of the Spartan diarchy is very similar to that of other foreign despots, especially with Cleomenes and Demaratus.3 It is not that Herodotus is anti-Spartan, as the Histories depicts the Spartans fighting alongside the other

Greeks against the Persians. It is only their dual kingship that makes them stand out in his description of Greece. To an outsider like Herodotus, the practices around Sparta’s diarchy are

2 Milender 2002, 7. 3 Ibid.

32 utterly foreign, with no point of comparison for Greeks to understand. The two kings, which define Sparta’s identity, make them different from Athens and the other Greeks.

The duality of Sparta was also, like much of Spartan culture, a major part of the state’s militaristic image. When first describing the diarchy, Herodotus begins by explaining their powers in war (6.56):

Γέρεά τε δὴ τάδε τοῖσι βασιλεῦσι Σπαρτιῆται δεδώκασι, ἱρωσύνας δύο, Διός τε Λακεδαίμονος καὶ Διὸς οὐρανίου, καὶ πόλεμον ἐκφέρειν ἐπ᾿ ἣν ἂν βούλωνται χώρην, τούτου δὲ μηδένα εἶναι Σπαρτιητέων διακωλυτήν, εἰ δὲ μὴ αὐτὸν ἐν τῷ ἄγεϊ ἐνέχεσθαι. στρατευομένων δὲ πρώτους ἰέναι τοὺς βασιλέας, ὑστάτους δὲ ἀπιέναι· ἑκατὸν δὲ ἄνδρας λογάδας ἐπὶ στρατιῆς φυλάσσειν αὐτούς· προβάτοισι δὲ χρᾶσθαι ἐν τῇσι ἐξοδίῃσι ὁκόσοισι ἂν ὦν ἐθέλωσι, τῶν δὲ θυομένων πάντων τὰ δέρματά τε καὶ τὰ νῶτα λαμβάνειν σφεας. These honors the Spartans have given to the kings: two priesthoods, of Lacedaemonian Zeus and heavenly Zeus, and to carry out war with whatever country they wish, and in this no one of the Spartans can hinder them, lest he be held under a curse. And that the kings go first of the advancing army, and retreat last. And that a hundred chosen men guard them in the army. And that they use as many sacrifices at the expedition as they wish, and that they take the skins and backs of all the sacrifices. In their duality, the two kings had a power to declare war that no one else in Sparta had or could deny. As the kings were first to enter and last to leave battle, the Spartans directly confronted the enemy with their duality.4 The kings led the army not only on the earthly and mortal side of the battle, but because their priesthoods and control over the sacrifices, over the divine as well. The divinity of duality was also present in the Spartan army through Dioscuri. The kings ordered musicians on the battlefield to play “τὸ Καστόρειον μέλος” (“the song of Castor”).5 They also carried into battle the δόκανα, two upright parallel bars with two bars placed above them, a religious symbol of the Dioscuri.6 Twins were the central figures in the way that Spartans presented themselves in battle and confronted their enemies.

4 After Cleomenes and Demaratus, only one king was allowed to go to war, and one was required to stay in Sparta. However, their duality remained a part of their identity as twin rulers, even when physically separated, and was symbolically carried into battle. 5 Plutarch Lycurgus 22.2 6 Waites 1919.

33 Duality was also involved in Sparta’s imperialistic goals. The diarchy that made Sparta so different from other Greek states traced its origins back to famous rulers and conquering heroes, most notably Heracles, so that “their dual kingship was proof that leadership in Hellas belonged to them: by ancestral rights that went back on the human side to hegemonic kings of yore, and on the divine side to the universal sovereignty of Zeus.”7 Sparta’s perceived right to rule over

Greece was through its long tradition of twin kings, which gave them a double birthright through both human and divine lines. When both kings were together on the battlefield, they served as a reminder to Spartans and their enemies of the power of the two that went back to the Dioscuri and Sparta’s origins. Duality not only defined Spartan image in war, but also the reason they were fighting.

The presence of duality in Spartan warfare spread the ideology of twins beyond the borders of Sparta. The diarchy made Sparta stand out among the other Greeks, much in the same way that the Dioscuri stood out from mortals or the twin kings stood out from other Spartans.

Twins not only stand out from the rest of society, but stand above them, granting a position of superiority and power. When the two kings, with the symbology of the Dioscuri behind them, led their troops into battle, they shared this superiority with the whole army. Through duality, the

Spartan army was an elite force, meant to claim Sparta’s rightful place above their enemies.

This was the Spartan ideology Athens faced during the Peloponnesian War. Because duality was a key part of Sparta’s claims to supremacy, Athens had to confront how it compared with their own ideas of equality and superiority. Lysistrata moves this difference in ideas off the battlefield and onto the public stage of Athens. The play’s depictions of Spartan characters and the duality associated with them allowed the audience to together challenge the idea of Spartan

7 Sahlins 2011, 100.

34 elitism and superiority. Despite its message of peace between the two nations, the play in the end is a victory for Athens and its community over Spartan duality

“By the Two Gods/Goddesses!”

From the very beginning of the play, the Dioscuri are used to clearly mark the Spartans as different from the Athenians. When the Spartan woman Lampito enters stage, her first line is

“μάλα γ᾿, οἰῶ, ναὶ τὼ σιώ” (“Indeed, I think, by the Two Gods,” 81), referring to Castor and

Polydeuces.8 The Doric dialect clearly present from the first words stands out from the Attic of the previous lines and immediately sets her apart from the other Greeks.9 The swear “τὼ σιώ” is also distinctly Spartan,10 drawing on Sparta’s unique relationship with the Dioscuri. By invoking the dual gods, Lampito is made other the moment she is given voice. Her Spartan-ness is defined to the Athenian audience through the duality of the Dioscuri.

This Spartan swear is in contrast with the Attic “τὼ θεὼ” (“by the Two Goddesses”), a reference to Demeter and Persephone.11 The mythology and ideals of the two goddesses is in some ways very similar to the two gods. Both pairs are associated with a cycle of death and rebirth: for the Dioscuri trading their days beneath the ground and in Olympus, and for Demeter and Persephone with yearly travels to and from the Underworld in correlation with the seasons.

Given the similarities, the Athenian women’s use of this oath provides a point of comparison for

Spartan and Athenian dual divinities. The Spartan’s connection to the Dioscuri stresses their values of a brotherly bond and the military prowess of the legendary heroes, which fits with the way Castor and Polydeuces were worshipped in war and a part of young soldiers’ training.12 In

8 Henderson 1987, 77 9 For more on the use of the Doric dialect in Aristophanes, see Willi 2002. 10 Echols 1951, 298. 11 Henderson 1987, 73 12 Kennell 1995, 138-42.

35 contrast, the Athenians chose to associate themselves with Demeter and Persephone, valuing a maternal relationship and ideas of agriculture and fertility, in line with the celebration of motherhood and marriage throughout generations of women in their worship. These similar but contrasting swears highlights the difference in the priorities of Sparta and Athens’ religions and ideologies.

There is also a difference in the use of oaths between the Spartans and Athenians. The

Spartan characters swear exclusively by the Dioscuri, either with “τὼ σιώ” or occasionally by

Castor, “ναὶ τὸν Κάστορα” (Lampito at line 206 and the Spartan Herald at 988). With the exception of the two exit songs at the end, the Spartans never invoke any god other than the

Dioscuri. In contrast, the Athenians swear by a variety of gods a number of times, including Zeus

(e.g. Lysistrata at line 24), Aphrodite (Calonice 208), Demeter and Heracles (Male Chorus 271 and

296), Poseidon (Athenian Magistrate 403), Pandrosos and Hecate (Old Women 439 and 443),

Artemis (Myrrhine 922), and Apollo (Cinesias 938). These deities represent a wide range of powers, from the Olympian ruler Zeus to the local heroine Pandrosos.13 The gods by which these characters swear are diverse, engaging the Athenians with a variety of ideas and religions. The

Spartans, however, only have the Twin Gods. They have no room for any new gods, stuck in their tradition of duality.

The Spartan and Athenian oaths to the dual gods are also different in who uses them. The

Athenian τὼ θεὼ is a feminine swear14 and is therefore only used by the women in the play, while the men use more appropriate oaths like to Heracles, a god only invoked by men.15 Even as many other traditional gender roles fall away in the play, the language of the Athenian oaths

13 Henderson 1987, 125. 14 Ibid., 73. 15 Ibid., 105

36 maintains a clear divide between male and female. This is not the case for the Spartans. The τὼ

σιώ oath is used indiscriminately by Spartan men and women, including Lampito (e.g. line 81), the Herald (983), and the Spartan Delegate (1095). The male and female use of τὼ σιώ takes the equality of Spartan duality to an extreme. The genders have the same dual oath, erasing the distinction between male and female as they both invoke the same Twin Gods.

When the Athenians use the dual swear, there is an order to it. Where τὼ σιώ is used throughout the play with no discernable pattern, τὼ θεὼ is used 6 times: by Calonice at lines 51 and 112, Lysistrata at 148 and 452, and the female Athenian chorus at 682 and 731. It occurs in pairs, so each character uses it twice and no other character says it until the pair is complete. The duality of the oath itself is matched by the duality of its use, giving an order to the Athenian’s language that the Spartan oaths lack. The Athenians also do not use this dual oath for the entire second half of the play, whereas the Spartans continue to use theirs right up until the end (last occurrence at line 1180). As the chaos of the first half of play stabilizes into the peace of the second, the Athenians abandon duality, leaving it for the Spartans alone. When order in Greece is restored and husbands reunited with their wives, there is no place for duality in Athenian language. Swearing by Twin Gods once again stands out from the way the Athenians speak, using duality to mark the Spartans as other in the end as it did in the beginning.

The ideas about Spartan duality found in these oaths can be seen throughout the larger plot of the play. The Spartan characters, especially Lampito, stand out from the other Greeks, seeming foreign in comparison to the Athenians. They are stuck in their ways, while it is the

Athenian Lysistrata who pushes forward for peace and maintains order throughout the play.

Aristophanes plays with many pairs that are traditionally opposite one another, such as male and female or young and old, and makes them the same. Men begin to act like women in their desire

37 for sex and young women act like old in not having sex. This extreme version of Spartan duality, where pairs are made equal to one another, causes chaos and forms the main conflict of the play.

It is only once the Athenians cast aside this kind of equal duality that everyone can reassume their proper place in societal order. Even though the play is about peace between Spartans and

Athenians, it mocks and questions the key Spartan idea of duality. In the end, peace is only achieved when that Spartan duality is replaced by Athenian order, where pairs are not equal, but instead have clear distinctions. This includes the pairing of Athenians and Spartans. Even when they come together at the end, stability can only be achieved if Sparta is distinguished from

Athens. Just like in the beginning with Lampito, the main method of marking the Spartans as different from Athenians is their duality.

Lysistrata and Lampito

The young women who gather in the beginning to swear the oath and arrange the sex strike can be separated into two groups: Athenians and non-Athenians, more specifically

Spartans and their allies.16 Within these, Lysistrata stands out as leader of the Athenians Lampito as leader of the non-Athenians. The coming together of these two is what moves the strike forward, as Lampito is the first to agree to Lysistrata’s plan (line 144), after which Calonice says:

“εἴ τοι δοκεῖ σφῷν ταῦτα, χἠμῖν ξυνδοκεῖ” (“If this seems good to the two of you, it seems good with us,” 167). Lampito and Lysistrata are here referred to in the dual (σφῷν), making them into a pair in their agreement. As the leaders of their respective groups, their duality allows the rest of the women all to come to think together (ξυνδοκεῖ). The pairing of Lysistrata with Lampito mixes the Athenians and foreigners into a single-minded unit, made one in their goal. Their union sets off a two-step plot—both the sex strike and the seizure of the Athenian treasury—but

16 Gilhuly 2009, 164.

38 these separate ideas are eventually confused into one when the women occupy the acropolis to avoid their husbands, mixing together their two plans into one.17 The duality between Lysistrata and Lampito transfers duality to the rest of the women and their plans, a contagious duality like that in the myth of the Dioscuri that spreads to the rest of the play and makes it harder to separate out individual elements. Everyone is grouped together into a chaotic mix.

The names of these two leaders associates them with historical, important figures in

Athens and Sparta. Lysistrata is likened to Lysimache, the contemporary priestess of Athena

Polias, not just because of the similarity in their names (“Lysimache” as the “dissolver of battles” and “Lyistrata” as “dissolver of armies”), but because of Lysistrata’s seemingly noble status and leadership over the women, especially in rituals like the swearing of the oath.18 Similarly,

Lampito was the name of the mother of Agis II, one of the Spartan kings at the time of the

Lysistrata.19 These characters help to ground the comedy in current events, not subtle to their

Athenian audience. Lampito especially is directly associated (the actual namesake, more than the play with Lysistrata’s name20) with the Spartan diarchy. The duality she represents is not some invention by Aristophanes, but the actual ideas upheld by Spartan kings at the time.

Through the roles Lysistrata and Lampito play based on their real-world counterparts, they are made unequal to one another, despite the duality between them. The real Lampito was a noble Spartan woman, and she would have been a part of Spartan choral performances like

Alcman’s Partheneion, and her character in Lysistrata is associated with this performance.21

Even her first appearance marks her strange movements, when the Athenian comment on her

17 Konstan 1995, 50-1; Thoneman 2020, 128-9. 18 Lewis 1955; Thoneman 2020; Gihuly 2009, 153-4. 19 Henderson 1991; Gihuly 2017, 76. 20 Gilhuly 2017, 76. 21 Ibid., 76-82.

39 unusually strong physique, she responds: “καὶ ποτὶ πυγὰν ἅλλομαι” (“I jump towards my butt,”

82). This clear visual of Lampito kicking her legs up to touch her butt references a type of

Spartan dance, likely performed competitively by young girls.22 The Athenians also remark on her general shape as a way of othering her because she was from Sparta, where women were expected to exercise just as much as men,23 another instance of an equal treatment between genders in Sparta that is strange to Athens. Lampito’s movement and dancing here makes her stand out from the rest of the women. She is like the real Lampito, performing choral songs on the Spartan stage, but that makes her unusual as a character on the Athenian stage. In playing the role the real Lampito should, Lysistrata’s Lampito is separated from the other women by her strange movement.

Lysistrata is able to assert her authority over Lampito by playing the role of Lysimache as a leader in sacrifice. Lampito is made into a sacrificial victim, first by her own words when the other women remark on her physical appearance as she enters: “ᾇπερ ἱερεῖόν τοί μ᾿

ὑποψαλάσσετε” (“You are handling me just like a sacrifice,” 84). This connection with Lampito and a sacrifice is brought on by the mention of her dancing, as it is this exercise that shaped her physical form into one that the Athenians are feeling up like an animal. The sacrificial status of

Lampito comes from her role in Spartan choral performances and is furthered when the

Athenians suggest a “λευκόν ἵππον” (“white horse,” 191-2) as a sacrifice for their oath. In the performance of Alcman’s Partheneion, the choral leaders reenact the myth of the Leukippides (a name derived from “white horses”), making Lampito, as the woman who performed this role in

Sparta, the horse for the sacrifice.24 The association with horses as the performers of Spartan

22 Lawler 1964 76-7; Henderson 1987, 77. 23 Xenophon’s Lakedaimonion Politeia 1.4; for a more detailed discussion of female exercise, see Pomeroy 2002, 12-27. 24 Gilhuly 2017, 80.

40 poetry in Lysistrata is strengthened when the Spartan girls dance like horses (“χᾇτε πῶλοι ταὶ

κόραι,” 1307) by the Eurotas River in the final choral ode. Lysistrata as Lysimache rules over the sacrifice of Lampito, using her real-world counterpart to control Lampito’s. They each play their roles, but through Lampito’s connection with the horses of Spartan choral performances, she is turned from a Spartan queen into a sacrificial animal in Lysistrata’s priesthood.

Lampito and Lysistrata form a pair in the play, but their connections beyond the stage separate them into a hierarchy. Lampito is a part of the royal Spartan diarchy, but Lysistrata’s position from Lysimache asserts her proper dominance. The real-world hierarchies of Athenian society break from the Spartan idea of equality between duals. Through the differences in the roles they each have within their states, the Athenian priestess triumphs over the Spartan sacrifice.

The Spartans’ Final Songs

The depictions of the Spartans in the final scene of Lysistrata doubles down on their duality as a means of othering them from Athens. After peace is made and husbands are reunited with wives, the Spartans and Athenians each give their own choral odes to celebrate. Their songs are similar in theme and content, “a correspondence of Spartan and Athenian cults of transition culminating in a civic new year’s festival, especially under the protection of Athena.”25 As with the oaths to dual gods, the similarities form a point of comparison where the difference between

Athenians and Spartans is made clear. Despite their similarities when uniting for peace, Sparta is separated from Athens because of its duality.

The Spartan song is defined by its duality. The Spartans sing a pair of songs, before and after the Athenians’ performance. When they begin their first song, they say they will

25 Briel 2011, 278.

41 “διποδιάξω” (1243), “dance a song of two feet.” The διποδία is a traditional way to refer to a

Spartan dance, perhaps “associated with the trochaic dimeter rhythm referred to by that name.”26

To an Athenian audience, the definition of Spartan song is a double sound. The language of

Spartan dance stresses Spartan duality and is shown on the Athenian stage through a double performance of two songs.

The first Spartan song shows sets of doubles between Sparta and Athens. This song focuses on military strength and accomplishments from the Persian War, when Athens and

Sparta fought on the same side. They present a pair of battles: the Athenian victory at

Artemisium (1250-1253) and the Spartan defense of Thermopylae (1254-1261). These two battles twin one another, as they happened at the same time.27 The Spartans establish Athens and

Sparta as a dual, where they are made equal to one another in this pair. Only one god is invoked in this first song: Artemis as “ἀγροτέρα σηροκτόνε” (“wild slayer of beasts,” 1262). Although she is alone in this song, she is made double by being invoked twice with similar language:

“μόλε δεῦρο, παρσένε” (“come here, maiden,” 1262-3) and “ὦ δεῦρ᾿ ἴθι, δεῦρο ,ὦ κυναγὲ

παρσένε” (“come here, here, o huntress maiden,” 1271-2). This Artemis, Artemis Agrotera, was worshipped in both Athens and Sparta.28 Just as the two battles mirrored one another, the duality of the Spartan Artemis is completed with the Athenian Artemis. The Spartan song brings together

Sparta and Athens into a matching set, where the duality of Sparta makes the two of them the same.

26 Henderson 1987, 210. 27 Herodotus 8.1-21 and 7.175-238. 28 Henderson 1987, 212.

42 The song of the Athenians responds to this idea of Spartan duality between Athens and

Sparta. The Athenian Delegate first reunites the husbands and wives and puts the pairs in their proper spots (1274-6):

ἀπάγεσθε ταύτας, ὦ Λάκωνες, τασδεδ ὑμεῖς· ἀνὴρ δὲ παρὰ γυναῖκα καὶ γυνὴ στήτω παρ᾿ ἄνδρα

Lead away your women, Spartans, and for you Athenians Yours; Let the man stand beside his woman and The woman beside her man The men and women are returned to the pairs in which they belong, each coming to stand beside one another in a matching set. But the pairing of husbands and wives interrupts the pairing of

Athens and Sparta, as each is told to take their own wives. The order that the Athenians restore in this reunification prioritizes the duality between husband and wife over the duality between the two nations that the Spartans were proposing in their song. This prioritization is furthered by the gods the Athenians invoke in their song. They offer two sets of godly pairs: Artemis and her twin

(1280-1) and Zeus and his wife (1284-5). In each, only one of them is named, and the other gets their identity from their relationship with the first. The doubles here “mirror typical family groupings”29 of a brother and sister and husband and wife, focusing on pairs that celebrate families through generations and a balance of genders. By putting Artemis in her family, they also reject the pairing of Spartan and Athenian Artemis from the Spartan song. This is not to say that the Athenians reject a unification of Sparta and Athens, but that they do not agree with the vision of peace with an equality between the paired states which the Spartans proposed in the first song. As with husbands and wives retaking their proper place within the duality of marriage, the Athenians call for a clear division between dualities so that they are not simply all the same.

29 Ibid., 216.

43 Similar to how dualities were a way to identify and other the Spartans at the beginning of the play, the dualities at the end allow the Athenians to make this divide between themselves and the Spartans. It is in fact the Athenian delegate who asks for a second song from the Spartans, forcing this duality of their music onto them: “πρόφαινε δὴ σὺ μοῦσαν ἐπὶ νέᾳ νέαν” (“Now you show a new song for a new song,” 1295). Despite this request for a “new” (νέαν) song, what follows is a depiction of “the happier Sparta of bygone days,” with clear references to the older poetry of Alcman.30 Athens’ song was a new song, focusing on prosperity for the future, full of gods and imagery related to fertility and regeneration through family, as well as connecting them with the rest of Greece through these panhellenic gods. Sparta’s song in contrast is stuck in the

Spartan past, not looking forward towards the future and located solely within their state.

This second song is much more Spartan than the first.31 The first word, Ταΐγετον (1296), refers to a mountain in Laconia and from the very beginning sets this song in Sparta. It then invokes a Spartan Muse (Μῶἁ…Λάκαινα, 1297), making this song entirely Spartan. Unlike the

Panhellenic gods of the Athenians, the gods invoked here are specifically in their Spartan forms, like Apollo Amyclae (1298) or Athena Chalkioikos (1299 and 1320), or uniquely Spartan gods, including the Dioscuri (1300). Like Artemis in the first song, Athena Chalkiokos is dual through two invocations, making her more Spartan instead of an Athenian Athena. Unlike the married couples and other family units of the gods invoked in the Athenian song, the pairs of gods for the

Spartans are less focused on generations and rebirth. Fertility, of both land and women, in

Aristophanes is connected with theme of peace, especially through the proper relationships between husbands and wives.32 But the gods for the Spartans are not in the duality of marriage and

30 Henderson 1980, 217. 31 Henderson 1987, 218. 32 Dillon 1987.

44 family the way the gods for the Athenians were, nor is there any pairing of the divinities across gender lines. In Spartan life, men lived separate from women,33 just as the gods in this song separate from one another. This separation of the genders, especially at a point in the play that is supposed to be celebrating the reunion of men and women, makes Sparta stand out against Athens.

Athens is preparing to move into the future by the mixing of husbands and wives, and from them the generation of new children. But because Sparta is separated out by genders, there is no opportunity for this mixing and generation. Even within the bounds of marriage, Sparta had a duality that makes them different from the Athenians, namely the sharing of a wife with two men.34 Sparta’s traditions for marriage and raising of children (or at least how they were understood by Athens) does not fit with the relationship between a single man and woman as depicted in this scene of peace. The contrast of these final songs shows that the peace brings order and the promise of new life to the Athenians, but not to the Spartans. Duality of Sparta in this final hymn is abundant, but also completely contained within Sparta’s past. Instead of reaching out towards Athens or the next generation, their duality has trapped them inside their own song.

Spartan duality is portrayed on the Athenian stage, but it is never fully accepted, challenged by Athenian ideas. Instead of equality and sameness across pairs, Athenians strive for order and hierarchies, especially between duals of gender like husband and wife. In the end, it is this

Athenian order that brings peace and stability, and Spartan duality is confined to Sparta alone. It separates the Spartans from the Athenians and makes them foreign and other. Duality, in opposition to Spartan ideas of superiority from duality, is a tool for Athenian division, and it is this

Athenian idea of division and hierarchies that is victorious in the end.

33 Pomeroy 2002 explores in more detail what this meant for the women of Sparta. 34 The Athenians certainly believed this was a common practice, as seen in Lakedaimonion Politeia 1.8 or Plutarch’s Lycurgus 15.7-10. For whether this is a true part of Spartan culture or another victim of the “Spartan mirage,” see Millender 1999, 365-6.

45 Helen

In addition to the many duals in the Spartans’ last song, the Dioscuri’s sister Helen is depicted as leading the chorus of dancing maidens (line 1314). The character of Helen is complex, and her inclusion here plays with the many versions of her myth. Although she is not twinned with anything specifically in the scene, her ties to duality bring her into the Spartan identity at the end of the play.

Helen’s appearance in the Spartans’ final song is actually the second reference to her. She is first mentioned when Lysistrata is explaining the sex strike plan to the other women and Lampito says: “ὁ γῶν Μενέλαος τᾶς Ἑλένας τὰ μᾶλά πᾳγυμνᾶς παραυιδὼν ἐξέβαλ᾿, οἰῶ, τὸ ξίφος”

(“Menelaus upon seeing Helen’s bare breasts threw away, I think, his sword,” 155-6). Given

Helen’s cult status in Sparta, it is fitting that the Spartan character uses her for the metaphor, just as the other Spartan characters used the Dioscuri in their swears when the Athenians did not. Yet the reference here is more Athenian than Sparta, since the myth of Menelaus throwing away his sword at the sight of Helen was common, but it was Euripides who added in the detail about her bare breasts in Andromache.35 The pairing of Helen with Menelaus focuses on the proper relationship between husband and wife, so that despite the fact that Helen is used for her attractiveness, it is also “reinforcing a conjugal context for this nudity.”36 The relationship between Menelaus and

Helen resembles the way the Athenians put a familial order on pairs, as with the gods in their song.

Lampito’s reference to Helen mixes Spartan and Athenian, since it is a Spartan character mentioning a Spartan figure, but through the Athenian context of the myth and ideas of duality between spouses. The single Helen is both Athenian and Spartan at the same time.

35 Henderson 1987, 86; Andromache 627-31. 36 McClure 2015, 66.

46 The Helen in the Spartans’ final song is entirely Spartan. She leads a chorus of young girls who dance beside the Eurotas like horses, taking on the roles of Agido and Hagesichora in

Alcman’s Partheneion.37 In playing this role in the famous Spartan dance, Helen is depicted as a goddess for unmarried women, “the symbol of all girls, chaste, and not the legendary unfaithful wife.”38 As with the pairs of gods in the song, the reference to the Partheneion, a chorus of young unmarried girls, separates men and women, husband from wife. Instead of the marriage connection with Menelaus as in the earlier reference to Helen, here she is called “ἁ Λήδας παῖς”

(“the child of Leda,” 1314) and tied to her family in the Dioscuri. This Helen is separated from the

Helen at Troy mentioned earlier, as the Dioscuri are entirely absent from the Trojan War.39 These two references to Helen are from two distinctly different points her life and the role that she plays in those stories. As a wife to Menelaus, she was connected with Athens and Sparta, taken from

Euripides as much as from Alcman. But as the maiden sister of the Dioscuri, she is in Sparta alone.

Through her ties to the twins of Sparta, Helen ceases to mix between the two states and instead serves to mark the Spartans from the Athenians like all the other gods of the final song.

As with the other dual aspects of the Spartans’ song, Helen through the Dioscuri does not match the Athenian view of pairs of husbands and wives that lead to a prosperous future. Beyond their births, the only major myth that ties the Dioscuri and Helen is her abduction by Theseus and rescue by her brothers, a story which itself might have been a part of these Spartan choral poems.40

Kate Gilhuly notes that Helen in this role with Theseus corresponds with the Spartan men in

Lysistrata and their fondness for anal sex, which, unlike the proper sex between husband and wife

37 Calame 1977; Briel 2011, 430-2. 38 Briel 2011, 431. 39 Iliad 3.253-5. 40 Calame 1977; Nagy 1990, 345-7; Briel 2011, 430-2.

47 that the Athenians crave, is not reproductive.41 Just like the other dualities in the Spartans’ song, this Helen depicts the Spartans as stuck in the mythical past, at the beginning of Helen’s story, and, separated from her husband, without a way forward to the next generation. It is specifically her ties to duality, connecting her with the Dioscuri and cutting her off from her husband, that separate this

Helen from the other, more Athenian version, where her sexual appeal was that of a wife to her husband. The Helen that is sister to the Dioscuri is only the object of unproductive Spartan sex and has no place in the Athenian future.

In Aristophanes’ comedy, the different aspects of Helen as a character are separated from one another. At the beginning of the play, she is both Spartan and Athenian, and through her husband connected to Athenian ideas of the pairing of spouses that maintains the prosperity of the future state. But by the end, when Spartans and Athenians are once again separated to return to their proper pairs of husbands and wives, Helen is only Spartan and, through the Dioscuri, trapped in the past. The complexities of Helen’s character in this play do not exist simultaneously, but instead draw the line between Athenian and Sparta. The two different versions of her, like the other duals of the play, confront the idea of Spartan duality and separates pairs, once again allowing

Athenian division and order to triumph.

41 Gilhuly 2017, 81.

48 Chapter 3

The Dioscuri in Euripides

It is not only the Dioscuri that are doubled, but those around them as well. They have a pair of fathers, Zeus and Tyndareus. They marry two sisters, the Leucippides, and fight against two brothers, the Apharetidae. They themselves have two sisters, Helen and Clytemnestra, who in turn marry two brothers, Menelaus and Agamemnon. Their family tree is a confusing jumble of doubles, originating from their birth.

This family line of duality is what Euripides draws on in Electra and Helen. Both plays are centered around relatives of the Dioscuri and their relationships with the titular characters are key to plays’ resolutions. In the end of each, the Dioscuri appear on stage to provide divine aid to their family. Beyond these epiphanies, the Dioscuri lurk throughout the texts, constantly referenced in connection with their relatives. From them spreads the theme of duality that is unique to Euripides’ version of these myths. Helen and Electra play with other mythic traditions of these characters, such as Homer’s Helen or Aeschylus’ Electra, but the emphasis on their connection with the Dioscuri is only in Euripides. His innovation in both plays is the inclusion of duality, and it changes the way these well-known stories are told and received even before the

Dioscuri themselves arrive on stage.

Pairs and Duality in Electra

The Electra, performed sometime around 420 BCE,1 tells a story similar to Aeschylus’

Libation Bearers, where Orestes returns home to Argos to avenge the death of his father at the hands of his mother. Euripides’ version focuses on Orestes’ sister Electra, who has been married

1 Because the dating of this play is uncertain, as well as the date for Sophocles’ Electra, it is unclear which one was written first. This thesis will not be comparing the two, and I will instead focus on the connection between Aeschylus and Euripides. off to a farmer in the outskirts of the country. When the siblings are reunited, they conspire to kill Clytemnestra and her new husband Aegisthus. Orestes murders Aegisthus as he is performing sacrifices in the woods while Electra lures Clytemnestra out to her home where she and Orestes kill her together. As both siblings begin to deal with the consequences of killing their mother, the Dioscuri arrive from the gods to send Orestes to face justice in Athens and to marry Electra to Orestes’ companion Pylades, providing a resolution to the violence and a somewhat happy ending.

The language of the Electra is full of doubles and pairs, especially around the act of revenge. Duality is first introduced when Orestes comes with the clear intention of murdering

Clytemnestra and Aegisthus. He remains at the outskirts of Argos, both to easily escape if someone from the city recognized him and to find his sister, a plan he refers to as “δυοῖν δ᾿

ἅμιλλαν ξυντιθεὶς” (“putting together the contest for two things,” line 95). By his use of

“ἅμιλλαν” (contest or struggle), Orestes sets his own two goals in opposition to one another, as in his mind one contradicts the other. Yet he still places them together (ξυντιθεὶς), joining the opposites into a single purpose. It is by this combination of the separated pair that he is eventually able to achieve his plan. His success in his revenge is born from the unification of a duality.

The story of Orestes’ murder of Aegisthus similarly contains a multitude of dualities in its language. Electra and Orestes make the plan as a pair, as Electra herself refers to them as

“being two” (“δυοῖν ὄντοιν,” 649). The only way they are able to kill both Aegisthus and

Clytemnestra is by becoming a pair themselves, two to take down two. In the aftermath of the first death, the messenger begins his speech by telling Electra that Orestes has killed Aegisthus and when she questions him, he says “δίς σοι ταὔθ᾿, ἃ γοῦν βούλῃ, λέγω” (“Twice I say to you

50 these things, which at least you are willing to hear,” 770). The news of Aegisthus’ death is repeated for Electra and the audience twice, and this duality of his death is readily welcomed

(βούλῃ) by the listener. The messenger then sets the scene as they leave from Electra to

Aegisthus down a “δίκροτον ἁμαξιτὸν” (“twice-beaten carriage road,” 775). The word δίκροτον is typically taken with ἁμαξιτὸν to mean a road wide enough for two carriages to beat against the ground as they ride side-by-side.2 The very path to Orestes’ revenge is thus made dual through the invocation of the sound of two chariots racing down the same path as Orestes and Pylades rush off for the same goal. Although it is only Orestes that strikes the killing blow, Pylades’ presence is important in establishing a duality at the scene, as emphasized when the slaves rush to grab weapons when they see Aegisthus dead, “πολλοὶ μάχεσθαι πρὸς δύ᾿” (“many to fight with two,” 845). Pylades provides Orestes with a unified pair that work together against everyone else. Duality is a key theme in Aegisthus’s death. Everything, from the storytelling to the setting to the characters, is made double.

Clytemnestra is then paired with Aegisthus, leading to her murder. Orestes brings

Aegisthus’s body back to Electra’s home, making it so that even though his death occurred farther away, Clytemnestra will still die beside. Electra addresses his corpse, confronting him about his relationship with her mother: (928-9) “ἄμφω πονηρὼ δ᾿ ὄντ᾿ ἀνῃρεῖσθον τύχην / κείνη

τε τὴν σὴν καὶ σὺ τοὐκείνης κακόν” (“Both being wicked you two took on each other’s fortune / she yours and you her evil,” 928-9).3 Clytemnestra’s marriage to Aegisthus makes them a pair, grammatically shown by the dual in the first line (ἄμφω…ἀνῃρεῖσθον). They share one another’s identities and actions, making her crimes his. Because of their pairing, Aegisthus must also take on his wife’s fate (τύχην), even if he did not commit the initial murders himself. Clytemnestra

2 Roisman 2011, 190. 3 These lines are somewhat contested. For a defense of this Greek and translation, see Denniston 1939, 161-2.

51 and Aegisthus each had their own evils, but as a couple they come to share a common end. Their duality is then emphasized again after Clytemnestra’s death, when Orestes’ calls their corpses

“δίγονα σώματ᾿” (“twin bodies,” 1179). The word δίγονα, literally “doubly born,” is rather ironic to refer to dead bodies and treats Aegisthus and Clytemnestra less like a married couple and more like twins born at the same time. Yet unlike twins, it is not their birth that they share, but instead their death. For the purposes of Orestes’ revenge, Aegisthus and Clytemnestra become like the Dioscuri themselves, twins who despite their differences take on each other’s burdens and deaths.

This duality is directly tied with the play’s theme of revenge. When Electra confronts

Clytemnestra, her mother tries to defend Agamemnon’s murder by claiming it was justice for his murder of Iphigenia, to which Electra responds (1091-5):

κοὔτ᾿ ἀντιφεύγει παιδὸς ἀντὶ σοῦ πόσις οὔτ᾿ ἀντ᾿ ἐμοῦ τέθνηκε, δὶς τόσως ἐμὲ κτείνας ἀδελφῆς ζῶσαν; εἰ δ᾿ ἀμείψεται φόνον δικάζων φόνος, ἀποκτενῶ σ᾿ ἐγὼ καὶ παῖς Ὀρέστης πατρὶ τιμωρούμενοι.

And why is your husband not exiled in return for your son And why has he not died in return for me, since he killed me While I was living twice as much as my sister? If a murder will demand in exchange For murder, I and your son Orestes will kill you, Avenging our father.

Electra argues that if Clytemnestra justly took revenge on Agamemnon for killing their daughter, she still has two living children who have suffered worse than death at her and Aegisthus’ hands.

She specifically calls her treatment “twice” (δὶς) as bad as what happened to Iphigenia, so if justice demanded her father’s blood in return for her sister’s, then Electra’s metaphorical death demands a double murder in return for her double death. It is fitting that she would introduce duality to her understanding of her revenge. Vengeance is, by Electra’s own words, an exchange

52 (ἀμείψεται) of two identical things, one murder (φόνος) for another (φόνον). It creates a pair, where one action must match the other. Duality is so present throughout this play because that’s what revenge is—the making of one wrong into two.

Euripides and Aeschylus

This connection with duality and vengeance is not unique to Euripides. Aeschylus similarly brings up images of pairs and duals in the Libation Bearers, especially around

Aegisthus and Clytemnestra’s murders. When Orestes leads Clytemnestra inside so that she might die beside Aegisthus, the Chorus laments the couple’s “συμφορὰν διπλῆν” (“double misfortune,” 931), but justifies the murder (935-8):

ἔμολε μὲν δίκα Πριαμίδαις χρόνῳ, βαρύδικος ποινά· ἔμολε δ᾿ εἰς δόμον τὸν Ἀγαμέμνονος διπλοῦς λέων, διπλοῦς Ἄρης·

Justice came in time to the children of Priam, A vengeance heavy with justice; And there came into the house of Agamemnon A double lion, a double Ares.

The Chorus emphasizes the duality of the murders, which will shortly afterwards be visually echoed by the two bodies displayed on stage. Clytemnestra and Aegisthus share their downfall as they did in Euripides, paired in death as husband and wife. They came in together as a pair of lions (διπλοῦς λέων) against Agamemnon, and so Orestes and Pylades respond with double violence (διπλοῦς Ἄρη). The Chorus also makes a comparison that pairs Orestes with his father, as Agamemnon brought vengeance against Troy and Orestes brought it against his own home, with lines that parallel each other (ἔμολε μὲν, ἔμολε δ᾿). Despite the endless cycle of revenge that is the House of Atreus, from Troy to Iphigenia to Agamemnon to Clytemnestra, the vengeance here is presented in pairs, where one responds to the other before it.

53 Because Aeschylus’ duality is a part of the violence of the trilogy, it represents a problem that needs to be solved. His double language is connected to the misfortune of the characters, such as when the Chorus in the Agamemnon says: “αἴλινον αἴλινον εἰπέ, τὸ δ᾽ εὖ νικάτω” (“Sing a sad song, a sad song, but let good conquer,” 121). The “mournful song” of death (αἴλινον) is repeated, the word for tragedy made dual. The Chorus’ wish is for the House of Atreus to move away from this tragic dual, to a victory for a singular (“τὸ”) good in the end. The Oresteia seeks to end the cycle of violence and death by resolving duality.

Euripides also uses the specific language of duality that was used by Aeschylus. In

Aeschylus’ Agamemnon, Clytemnestra kills Agamemnon and Cassandra with a “ἀμφιτόμῳ

βελέμνῳ” (“weapon cutting on both sides,” 1496). Euripides’ Electra picks up on this narrative when Electra laments for her father who arrived home to a “ξίφεσι ἀμφιτόμοις” (“sword cutting on both sides,” 164). Although the exact word for the weapon is different between the authors, the duality of it, its double sides, remains the same. The ἀμφιτόμος connects Aeschylus’ version of the story with Euripides’ at the very beginning of the Electra, using of duality in murder.

Euripides is not simply using duality to copy or continue Aeschylus’ plays, but instead to engage with and challenge them. This is especially evident in comparing how each author treats the recognition of Orestes by Electra. In the Libation Bearers, before Electra sees Orestes himself, she recognizes a pair of tokens he left at Agamemnon’s grave: a lock of his hair and a set of footprints. The footprints introduce an idea of duality to the recognition (205-10):

καὶ μὴν στίβοι γε, δεύτερον τεκμήριον, ποδῶν, ὅμοιοι τοῖς τ᾿ ἐμοῖσιν ἐμφερεῖς. καὶ γὰρ δύ᾿ ἐστὸν τώδε περιγραφὰ ποδοῖν, αὐτοῦ τ᾿ ἐκείνου καὶ συνεμπόρου τινός· πτέρναι τενόντων θ᾿ ὑπογραφαὶ μετρούμεναι εἰς ταὐτὸ συμβαίνουσι τοῖς ἐμοῖς στίβοις.

And footprints, a second sign,

54 Similar and resembling mine. For there are two outlines of feet, Of that man himself and some companion; The heels and marks of the tendons measured With itself correspond to my footprints.

This “second sign,” a pair of footprints, is what assures Electra that her brother has returned to

Argos. In measuring her own footprints with it, she determines they are the same (ὅμοιοι) as her own. The footprints match Orestes with Electra as equals, with footprints that correspond in length. It is from this pairing that Electra determines Orestes identity.

Euripides directly makes fun of this scene in his own recognition scene. After Electra has met Orestes and spoken with him, the old man comes to tell her of Orestes’ return. The old man presents her with the same tokens of identity from Aeschylus and she rejects them each in turn.

These tokens are less for the recognition of Orestes by Electra and more for the recognition of

Aeschylus by the audience, reexamining his work in conversation with Euripides’.4 She rejects each token of his identity that Aeschylus had presented, including the footprints (534-7):

πῶς δ᾿ ἂν γένοιτ᾿ ἂν ἐν κραταιλέῳ πέδῳ γαίας ποδῶν ἔκμακτρον; εἰ δ᾿ ἔστιν τόδε, δυοῖν ἀδελφοῖν ποὺς ἂν οὐ γένοιτ᾿ ἴσος ἀνδρός τε καὶ γυναικός, ἀλλ᾿ ἅρσην κρατεῖ.

How could there be on the rocky ground Of the earth an impression of a foot? And if there is one, Feet would not be equal for two siblings, A man and a woman, but the male is greater.

Euripides openly challenges the narrative that Aeschylus presented. The footprints that were the

“second sign” of Orestes shouldn’t even exist where he said it did. Even if it did, Euripides rejects the pairing of the siblings through an equal foot size. The footprints cannot be the same because Orestes and Electra are not the same—they are, after all, different genders. Rather than

4 Torrance 2013, 15-28.

55 an equal pair, their genders put them in competition with one another, where the male must win

(κρατεῖ) against the female. When directly putting his play in conversation with Aeschylus,

Euripides leaves no room for an equal duality.

This mocking scene shows Euripides’ relationship with Aeschylus’ plays. There is no denying that Aeschylus’ Oresteia had an influence on Euripides’ Electra. Even if Euripides hadn’t made quite so direct references, the audience would still likely be comparing them because they both address the same myth. While both plays might both use duality and have the same general shape, like a footprint, Euripides does not make the two works an equal pair.

Rather, he challenges Aeschylus’ play, putting his work into competition with Aeschylus’ and conquering it. This relationship between the two can be seen in the comedic debate between the tragedians in Aristophanes’ Frogs, when Aeschylus recites from the beginning of his Libation

Bearers and Euripides objects to the repetitiveness in his language by saying: “δὶς ταὐτὸν ἡμῖν

εἶπεν ὁ σοφὸς Αἰσχύλος” (“Twice the wise Aeschylus has said the same thing to us,” 1154). In the perceived relationship between Aeschylus and Euripides, Euripides considers his writing better because, unlike Aeschylus, he does not say the same thing twice. Euripides in the Electra refused to be paired with Aeschylus because he was not merely repeating what the other playwright has already said. Instead, he rejects Aeschylus’ story to make something greater and entirely new.

The Dioscuri in Electra

Although duality alone is not unique to Euripides’ version of the story, the inclusion of the Dioscuri is—the use of them as dei ex machina at the end especially is Euripides’ “most novel contribution to the stage of Orestes.”5 Even before their appearance at the end, the

5 Andújar 2016, 169.

56 Dioscuri have a continuous presence throughout the play. They play many roles, acting at different times as brothers, uncles, husbands, and gods. Ultimately, the twins continue to serve as primarily Spartan figures. Their importance to the story opposes Aeschylus’ focus on Argos and

Athens in the Oresteia, shifting the center towards Sparta.

The Dioscuri have a close and complicated relationship with their family in the Electra.

Electra herself is the first to mention them, when she complains of her low status with her marriage to a farmer in the countryside of Argos (311-3):

ἀναίνομαι δὲ γυμνὰς οὖσα παρθένους, ἀναίνομαι δὲ Κάστορ᾿, ὣ πρὶν ἐς θεοὺς ἐλθεῖν ἔμ᾿ ἐμνήστευον, οὖσαν ἐγγενῆ.

I shun the maidens since I am without garments, And I shun Castor, the two who sought me in marriage Before they went into gods, I who am their kinswoman.

Although it is only Castor who is mentioned by name, the dual (ὣ) and plural (ἐμνήστευον) forms refer to both twins, especially in their role as gods. Having lost her connection to the

Dioscuri, Electra is misplaced from Sparta. She lacks the proper clothing to participate in the activities of maidens (παρθένους), like Alcman’s Partheneion, which as a noble woman and member of the royal family she should not only be a part of, but leading. Her marriage was supposed to keep her within that Spartan royalty, as she was betrothed to Castor as his “ἐγγενῆ”

(kinswoman). While ἐγγενῆ could refer to the fact that both Castor and Electra are from Sparta, it does also emphasize that they are related by blood.6 This marriage between relatives was in fact a common practice among Spartan elites,7 and it would be a fitting match for two members of the royal family. Through her relationship to the Dioscuri, Electra laments that she is miscast in her

6 Denniston 1939. 88. 7 Scott 2011.

57 role as a woman in Argos, the same role she plays in Aeschylus’ version. Her proper place instead would be as a Spartan woman preparing for a Spartan marriage.

Clytemnestra similarly is tied with her Spartan roots. She is often referred to as the daughter of Tyndareus: by the farmer at the beginning (“Τυνδαρίδα κόρην,” 13), then twice by

Electra (“Τυνδαρίς,” 60 and “Τυνδάρεω κόρα,” 117), by Chorus (“Τυνδαρί,” 480), Aegisthus as relayed by the messenger (“Τυνδαρίδα,” 806), and by the Chorus speaking directly to

Clytemnestra (“παῖ Τυνδάρεω,” 989). Patronymics are certainly not uncommon in Greek, but it is noteworthy that Euripides uses Clytemnestra’s so often when Aeschylus uses it only once

(Agamemnon, 83-4). To a greater degree than Aeschylus, the characters in Euripides’ play associate Clytemnestra with her Spartan family. Her identity comes from her relationship with her father’s family in Sparta.

It is through this association with her father’s family that Clytemnestra is also connected to the Dioscuri. As with Electra, the language used to describe her relationship with the twins is somewhat complicated. The Chorus calls her the “κλεινῶν συγγενέτειρ᾿ ἀδελφῶν” (746), taken to mean “sister of famous brothers,” referring to the Dioscuri. However, the word συγγενέτειρα could also mean “mother,” making her instead the “mother of famous siblings,” referring to

Orestes and Electra.8 Given that the Dioscuri are much more well-known (κλεινῶν) than Orestes and Electra, the former seems more likely,9 but the wording does leave both as possible interpretations. Clytemnestra simultaneously serves as the sister and mother of two different pairs of siblings. She also obtains power from her connection with the Dioscuri. When she arrives at Electra’s house, the Chorus greets her as (990-5):

καὶ τοῖν ἀγαθοῖν ξύγγονε κούροιν

8 Denniston 1939, 143. 9 Castor later refers to Clytemnestra as his “ἀδελφῆς” (line 1243), so ἀδελφῶν is an appropriate word for their relationship.

58 Διός, οἳ φλογερὰν αἰθέρ᾿ ἐν ἄστροις ναίουσι, βροτῶν ἐν ἁλὸς ῥοθίοις τιμὰς σωτῆρας ἔχοντες· χαῖρε, σεβίζω σ᾿ ἴσα καὶ μάκαρας πλούτου μεγάλης τ᾿ εὐδαιμονίας.

And sister to the good sons Of Zeus, who live in the flaming sky among stars, Having honor as saviors of mortals on the waves of the sea; Hail, I worship you equal to the blessed gods In great wealth and fortune.

The Dioscuri are represented here in their divine forms, among the stars and the gods of sailors.

But Clytemnestra is equal (ἴσα) to them and the other blessed gods (μάκαρας). The words of the

Chorus should not be taken too seriously—they support her murder and are trying to lure her inside. Yet Clytemnestra doesn’t think this praise is unusual or undeserved. To her, it is right for her to be paired with her brothers in this way, to be considered their equal. By associating her power and wealth with the divine twins, Clytemnestra acts less like a queen of Argos and more like a Spartan queen.

The association of the characters with Sparta through the Dioscuri throughout the play moves Euripides’ work physically away from Aeschylus’. The first two plays of Aeschylus’

Oresteia are centered distinctly in Argos, placed at the location of generations of violence and vengeance at the house of Atreus. Euripides sets his play instead far from the royal home, off in the countryside. Instead of emphasizing Orestes’ connection with the cycle of revenge begun on his father’s side of the family, Euripides focuses on his mother’s family. The Dioscuri serve to shift the play away from Aeschylus’ Argos to Sparta.

This shift is completed by the epiphany of the Dioscuri at the end. Aeschylus solves the conflict of the Oresteia by turning to forces outside of the first two plays, first Apollo and then the courts at Athens. The Eumenides especially celebrates the role of the Athenian legal system

59 in breaking out of the cycle of vengeance in Argos and uplifts the city’s government. Euripides rejects this Athens-centric narrative through the intervention of the Spartan Dioscuri. Rather than the intervention of some outside god. In fact, Castor is critical of Apollo’s role in Orestes’ vengeance: “Φοῖβος δέ, Φοῖβος—ἀλλ᾿ ἄναξ γάρ ἐστ᾿ ἐμός, / σιγῶ· σοφὸς δ᾿ ὢν οὐκ ἔχρησέ σοι

σοφά” (“and Phoebus, Phoebus—but since he is my lord / I keep silent; but though wise he did not prophesize to you wisely,” 1245-6). Concerned about the natural hierarchy among the gods and Apollo’s power, Castor does not say much directly. His entire speech and the way it compares to the intervention of gods like Apollo in other plays emphasizes the twins’ dual status as gods and mortals, with more power than their mortal niece and nephew, but still not the full might of the gods.10 However, he does invite Orestes and the audience to criticize the role that

Apollo plays in directing Orestes’ actions. Apollo has no place in Euripides’ play. The Dioscuri are the ones to provide the resolution, marrying Electra off to Pylades and sending Orestes on his way to Athens. They do not act as intervening gods or an impartial jury, but instead as family.11

Euripides grounded his play in the Dioscuri’s Spartan family, and it is through them, not Athens, that it comes to an end. Aeschylus’ resolution came from a denial of duality, but Euripides embraces it in the Spartan way.

Helen in the Electra

The Dioscuri are not the only relatives that play an important role in the Electra. Helen too is brought up constantly throughout the play, although she never herself makes an appearance. Like the Dioscuri, she serves to strengthen the play’s connection to duality and to

Sparta.

10 Andújar 2016. 11 Ibid.

60 Throughout the Electra, Helen is blamed for many of her family’s problems. Because it was her abduction that started the Trojan War, she makes for an easy source for the deaths and tragedies that followed. The Chorus tells Electra as much: “πολλῶν κακῶν Ἕλλησιν αἰτίαν ἔχει /

σῆς μητρὸς Ἑλένη σύγγονος δόμοις τε σοῖς,” (“Your mother’s sister Helen has the blame of the many evils / to the Greeks and to your home,” 213-4). Helen here is not only to blame for the grief she caused all of Greece, but specifically for the evils that have come to Electra and her home. This focus on Helen as the beginning of the family’s troubles separates the play from

Aeschylus’, which focused more on Atreus’ murder of Thyestes’ sons as the origin of the series of vengeances and deaths. Through Helen, Euripides moves the starting point for the play’s main problem away from the House of Atreus in Argos and into Sparta.

Euripides also directly pairs Helen with Clytemnestra. Aeschylus does mention Helen several times in the Agamemnon as a sort of scapegoat for Troy, but Clytemnestra distances herself from her sister. Euripides instead emphasizes Helen as Clytemnestra’s sister, making them into a pair, such as when Electra addresses her mother (1062-4):

τὸ μὲν γὰρ εἶδος αἶνον ἄξιον φέρειν Ἑλένης τε καὶ σοῦ, δύο δ᾿ ἔφυτε συγγόνω, ἄμφω ματαίω Κάστορός τ᾿ οὐκ ἀξίω.

For the beauty of Helen and you is worthy to be praised, But the two of you were born siblings, Both rash and not worthy of Castor.

As two siblings born together, Helen and Clytemnestra are like Castor and Polydeuces. The beauty deserving of praise, a trait commonly given to Helen, is shared between the both of them.

Together, they also share blame for the terrible things they have done, both made into villainous women against their divine brothers. Pairing Clytemnestra with Helen connects her with her

61 Spartan family, as with her association with Tyndareus, while also making her into a dual like the Dioscuri. This duality makes her even more Spartan.

Despite this twinning between Clytemnestra and Helen connecting the two women’s evils, Helen is exonerated at the end of the play. The Dioscuri, after giving clear instructions to both Electra and Orestes on what to do after killing their mother, say (1278-84):

μητέρα δὲ τὴν σὴν ἄρτι Ναυπλίαν παρὼν Μενέλαος, ἐξ οὗ Τρωικὴν εἷλε χθόνα, Ἑλένη τε θάψει· Πρωτέως γὰρ ἐκ δόμων ἥκει λιποῦσ᾿ Αἴγυπτον οὐδ᾿ ἦλθεν Φρύγας· Ζεὺς δ᾿, ὡς ἔρις γένοιτο καὶ φόνος βροτῶν, εἴδωλον Ἑλένης ἐξέπεμψ᾿ ἐς Ἴλιον.

Menelaus, arriving at Naplia After he took the Trojan land, And Helen will bury her; For Helen came leaving the house of Proteus And she never went to Troy; But Zeus, so that there might be strife and murder of mortals, Sent an image of Helen to Troy.

Helen’s brothers clear her name and restore her to her proper place in her Spartan family. She is returned to her husband, and because she never actually went to Troy with Paris, she is still a faithful wife to him. Together they will bury her sister, performing the funeral rites as a family member should. With this reversal of Helen’s story, which is certainly not found in Aeschylus,

Euripides ends the cycle of violence that began in Sparta with Helen’s abduction by returning to

Sparta. He explores this idea of the image of Helen that went to Troy in further detail in his play

Helen.

Duality in Euripides Helen

Euripides’ Helen was produced in 412 BCE, just a year before Aristophanes’ Lysistrata.

It presents a version of the events following the Trojan War where Helen never actually went to

Troy, but was taken by the gods and an image sent in her place. For the past decade, Helen has

62 been living safely in Egypt under the protection of the king Proteus, but just as the war was ending, Proteus died, and his son Theoclymenus, the new king, is now demanding Helen marry him. As Helen is taking shelter at Proteus’ tomb, Menelaus crashes his ship and washes up in

Egypt, leading to his reunion with Helen which finally reveals to him the truth about the false image of Helen. With the help of Theoclymenus’ sister Theonoe, the couple convince the king to give them a boat for Helen to perform funeral rights for a “dead” Menelaus and sail home to

Sparta. The Dioscuri appear to prevent Theoclymenus from killing his sister in anger, and send their own sister Helen on a safe journey across the sea.

Similar to the Electra, the Helen is full of duality. There are two children of Proteus, two suitors for Helen’s marriage, and, most importantly, two Helens.12 The story that an image of

Helen was sent to Troy while she herself stayed in Egypt is not Euripides’ own invention.

Similar versions can be found in Herodotus and Stesichorus.13 Euripides explores these and other versions of the myth of Helen, but his emphasis on duality depicts her in her Spartan form—the goddess and sister of the Dioscuri.

Much of the Helen’s conflict stems from characters’ inability to understand duality. In fact, the entire Trojan War happened because the Greek and Trojans could not see that the Helen they were fighting over was only a duplicate. Even when the Greeks, first Teucer and then

Menelaus, meet Helen face-to-face, they cannot reconcile her with the Helen they knew in Troy.

When Menelaus is first told that Helen, daughter of Zeus and Tyndareus from Sparta, is in the

Egyptian palace, he is completely baffled (490-4):

ἀλλ᾿ ἦ τις ἔστι Ζηνὸς ὄνομ᾿ ἔχων ἀνὴρ Νείλου παρ᾿ ὄχθας; εἷς γὰρ ὅ γε κατ᾿ οὐρανόν. Σπάρτη δὲ ποῦ γῆς ἐστι πλὴν ἵνα ῥοαὶ τοῦ καλλιδόνακός εἰσιν Εὐρώτα μόνον;

12 For a more complete list of the duals in this play, see Segal 1971, 562. 13 Stesichorus Palinode and Herodotus Histories 2.112-20; Allan 2008, 18-24.

63 ἁπλοῦν δὲ Τυνδάρειον ὄνομα κλῄζεται.

Is there some man with the name Zeus Beside the Nile’s bank? The one is him in heaven. And where on earth is there a Sparta except only where The Eurotas is with lovely reeds? And the name of Tyndareus is singular.

Menelaus insists on the singularity of the world. There can only be one Zeus, one Sparta, one

Tyndareus. While he is correct and there is only one of each of these, all of them serve as a way to identify Helen, and never does he even consider that there could be two Helens. Menelaus is not able to think in duals, and it prevents him from properly identifying his own wife.

Helen is only returned to her proper place with her husband when he recognizes and accepts duality. Once he realizes there were two Helens, he gladly welcomes her back and the two become a pair. As a couple, they again share a fate, whether good or bad, as Menelaus says:

“δυοῖν γὰρ ὄντοιν οὐχ ὁ μὲν τλήμων, ὁ δ᾿ οὔ” (“For it is not right for those who are two for one to be miserable and the other not,” 647). Menelaus puts himself into a pair with Helen, where like many other pairs including the Dioscuri, their suffering is shared. What happens to the one must happen to the other, as long as they are two. Menelaus’ reunion with Helen brings both of them back together into this duality.

Duality is not only a part of the story, but also tied to storytelling itself. Especially for characters who have suffered through the Trojan War, recounting their stories doubles their pain.

Teucer says to Helen: “ἅλις δὲ μύθων· οὐ διπλᾶ χρῄζω στένειν” (“but enough stories; I do not want to lament twofold,” 143). Menelaus expresses a similar feeling when Helen asks him what has happened to him and the other Greeks (769-71):

…εἰ γὰρ ἐμπλήσαιμί σε μύθοις, λέγων τ᾿ ἄν σοι κάκ᾿ ἀλγοίην ἔτι πάσχων τ᾿ ἔκαμνον· δὶς δὲ λυπηθεῖμεν ἄν.

64 If I should fill you With my stores, speaking to you I would suffer evils still Experiencing it as I suffered; twice I would be grieved.

These stories (μύθος) are not simply words, but a way of reliving what these men have already been through. Storytelling causes the storyteller to experience the thing for a second time, reliving what he has already suffered. The nature of storytelling is therefore based in duality.

The duality of storytelling also relates directly to the Dioscuri. When Helen asks Teucer what has happened to her brothers, he tells her there are two different rumors (138-142):

T: τεθνᾶσι κοὐ τεθνᾶσι· δύο δ᾿ ἐστὸν λόγω. H: πότερος ὁ κρείσσων; ὦ τάλαιν᾿ ἐγὼ κακῶν. T: ἄστροις σφ᾿ ὁμοιωθέντε φάσ᾿ εἶναι θεώ. H: καλῶς ἔλεξας τοῦτο· θάτερον δὲ τί; T: σφαγαῖς ἀδελφῆς οὕνεκ᾿ ἐκπνεῦσαι βίον.

T: They are dead and not dead; there are two stories. H: Which of the two is greater? Oh I am miserable from these evils! T: They say that they both are gods made like the stars. H: This you said wonderfully; but what is the other? T: That they have breathed their last breath with murder because of their sister.

There is a general pattern throughout the play that “everything that touches Helen most intimately—as her brothers here—has this divided quality.”14 The truth lies somewhere between these two stories, although closer to one than the other; the Dioscuri are in fact dead, but they are also gods. Helen puts the pair of stories into competition with one another, asking which one is better (κρείσσων). In the end, when the Dioscuri do appear as gods on stage, one is proven right.

The dual stories about the Dioscuri are not unlike the two different Helens—they are at odds with one another, but when the characters understand both by comparing them, one wins over the other.

14 Segal 1971, 562.

65 The duality of stories is exactly what Euripides is doing with the play. Charles Segal has argued that Euripides uses pairs of opposites in the play to negotiate between the duality of reality and fiction without resolving the differences between them.15 The audience must, like

Menelaus, learn to understand duality. Euripides’ innovation is not the two different stories which he draws on, of Helen the destroyer of Troy and Helen the queen of Sparta, but rather the fact that he uses both. By putting the two of them beside each other, Euripides allows the audience to experience for themselves the comparison of the pair. In the end, one version prevails over the other: Helen in her divine Spartan form.

The Dioscuri and the Divine Helen

Through her many connections with duality and the Dioscuri, Helen is made into a

Spartan goddess. Similar to the Dioscuri, she is depicted as having a dual parentage (470-2):

ΓΡΑΥΣ: Ἑλένη κατ᾿ οἴκους ἐστὶ τούσδ᾿ ἡ τοῦ Διός. ΜΕΝΕΛΑΟΣ: πῶς φῄς; τίν᾿ εἶπας μῦθον; αὖθίς μοι φράσον. Γ: ἡ Τυνδαρὶς παῖς, ἣ κατὰ Σπάρτην ποτ᾿ ἦν.

OLD WOMAN: Helen is within this home, the daughter of Zeus. MENELAUS: What are you saying? What is this speech? Show me again. O: The daughter of Tyndareus, who was once in Sparta.

Just as the Dioscuri can also be called the Tyndaridae, Helen can be called daughter of both Zeus and Tyndareus. To the woman speaking, there is no difference between these two versions of

Helen’s identity—she is simply repeating herself as Menelaus asked (αὖθίς) in saying the daughter of Tyndareus. From her parents, Helen has a dual identity.

Yet, as with the two stories about the Dioscuri, the play will prove one story of Helen’s birth to be better than the other. Helen’s birth is a complicated part of her story from the very beginning, when Helen introduces herself to the audience (17-19):

πατὴρ δὲ Τυνδάρεως (ἔστιν δὲ δὴ

15 Segal 1971.

66 λόγος τις ὡς Ζεὺς μητέρ᾿ ἔπτατ᾿ εἰς ἐμὴν Λήδαν κύκνου μορφώματ᾿ ὄρνιθος λαβών)

My father is Tyndareus (but there is Some story that Zeus flew to my mother Leda, taking the form of a swan.

Helen originally declares herself to be from Tyndareus, calling the claim that she is the daughter of Zeus to be only a story (λόγος) without any specific origin (τις). This narrative of Leda and the swan makes Helen not only of divine descent, but also inhuman. This monstrous aspect of

Helen’s origin is stressed the next time Helen mentions her birth (257-9):

γυνὴ γὰρ οὔθ᾿ Ἑλληνὶς οὔτε βάρβαρος τεῦχος νεοσσῶν λευκὸν ἐκλοχεύεται, ἐν ᾧ με Λήδαν φασὶν ἐκ Διὸς τεκεῖν.

For neither Greek nor barbarian woman Gave birth to a white egg of birds, In which they say that Leda bore me from Zeus.

If Helen did come from Zeus as a swan and hatched from an egg, she is like no other woman on earth. She stands out among both her own Greeks and foreign people, more like a bird than a mortal woman. Helen still presents this as a story, something that “people say” (φασὶν), but there is no mention of any other version of her birth. The Chorus finalizes the victory of this story

(Helen born from Zeus) over the other (Helen born from Tyndareus) at the end when they send

Helen and Menelaus on their way home to Sparta (1144-6):

σὺ Διὸς ἔφυς, ὦ Ἑλένα, θυγάτηρ· πτανὸς γὰρ ἐν κόλποις σε Λή- δας ἐτέκνωσε πατήρ·

You were born the daughter of Zeus, Helen; For your winged father conceived you In the womb of Leda.

To the Chorus, this is no longer a story, but the reality of who Helen is. She is the daughter of

Zeus, born semi-divine and inhuman from his union with Leda as a swan.

67 It is the victory of this story that connects Helen with divine twins in Sparta and makes her a goddess. The egg that Leda bore was displayed in the temple of the Leucippides in

Sparta.16 Like the Dioscuri, having Zeus as her father also gives her immortal blood. It is the

Dioscuri in the play that proclaim Helen’s status as a goddess (1666-9):

ὅταν δὲ κάμψῃς καὶ τελευτήσῃς βίον, θεὸς κεκλήσῃ [καὶ Διοσκόρων μέτα σπονδῶν μεθέξεις] ξένιά τ᾿ ἀνθρώπων πάρα ἕξεις μεθ᾿ ἡμῶν· Ζεὺς γὰρ ὧδε βούλεται.

Whenever you round the bend and finish life, You will be called a god [and with the Dioscuri You will share in libations] and you will have the hospitality from men With us; for Zeus wills this.

Helen’s deification is very similar to the Dioscuri’s. She too will die as a mortal and then be made a god through the will of her father Zeus. She shares her worship and honors from men with her twin brothers, in the style in which they were worshipped in Sparta.17 Through her relationship with the divine twins, Helen in the end of the play becomes a Spartan goddess.

Helen’s final role as a god depicts her in a specifically Spartan context. Her Spartan identity is emphasized by the Chorus in their references to Alcman as Helen returns to her home.

Coming to Sparta, they say that she will find “κόρας ἂν ποταμοῦ παρ᾿ οἶδμα Λευκιππίδας” (“the

Leucippides beside the waves of the river,” 1465-6) and that she will “ξυνελθοῦσα χοροῖς” (“join with them in dances,” 1468). Helen has left from the Nile in the beginning to the Eurota

(Εὐρώταν, 1492) of Sparta to join the dances of the Leucippides and other young women like them. Other imagery references specific parts of Alcman’s poetry; the Chorus mentions singing swans (1487) and the Pleiades (1489). The image of the dancing Pleiades is unique to Alcman in extant Greek literature until Euripides incorporates it, first in the Electra (468) and then again

16 Pausanias 3.16.1; see further discussion of this in Chapter 1 17 Allan 2008, 342-3.

68 here,18 so their inclusion here can only point to the Partheneion. It is not just Helen taking part in this version of the Partheneion. Her daughter, a woman waiting for marriage (1478), is called a

“μόσχον” (“calf,” 1476), as the women in Alcman were compared to cows. Helen, in being restored to her place in the dance of young women, “is in a position to help other girls achieve the same thing.”19 Present too are the Dioscuri on their horses (1495-7). Helen leads the dance, fulfilling the role that she should as queen of Sparta.20 She transforms the chorus of Euripides’

Athenian play into the chorus of the Partheneion.

In the end, it is the Spartan story that wins over all others. Helen rejects other versions of her myth to take her proper place in her homeland at the head of her chorus. Through her associations with duality, she rises above mortals to become a god like the Dioscuri. Like with

Electra, Euripides uses duality to make a story that is not Athenian, but Spartan.

18 Nikolaidou-Arabatzi 2015, 32-4. 19 Swift 2009, 431. 20 Nagy 1990.

69 Conclusion

Euripides’ plays of the Dioscuri bring us back to where we started in Sparta.

Aristophanes depicted the Spartans in Athens, where they stood out as strange and other for their duality and connection to the Dioscuri. Euripides instead ended his plays by returning the characters to their home in Sparta, where duality is so abundant that Athenian ideas that are out of place. For both playwrights, the Dioscuri represent something distinctly Spartan, and therefore opposite of Athenian. But where Aristophanes uses the twins to bring Sparta to the Athenian stage, Euripides uses them to move Athens to the Spartan one.

Yet we never truly left the Spartan stage, because even in Lysistrata or Electra, there were pieces of Alcman’s Partheneion. The fact that both Aristophanes and Euripides included it in their plays speaks to how well the text captured Spartan identity. Even for Athenian writers working centuries after Alcman, the Partheneion is essential to establishing Spartan culture. This choral poem is not only Sparta’s self-identification, but the way foreign audiences identify them outside of their own state.

What this thesis has sought to prove is that the recurrence of Alcman’s imagery in

Athenian plays is not simply representing Sparta, but specifically Spartan ideas about duality.

Within Sparta itself, the choral performance of the Partheneion shared with the community the importance of the duality to Spartan culture. Twins and the Dioscuri were essential to how the

Spartans understood themselves, and that is reflected in the Partheneion. Performances of

Alcman’s work share the themes of duality with its audience, and so when Aristophanes and

Euripides include it in their own works, they share it with their audiences. Engaging with Sparta through the Partheneion brings the Athenian community into conversation with Sparta’s duality, allowing them to compare their own ideas of twins in performance with the foreign. This is why

70 in the Athenian plays, references to Alcman are paired with references to the Dioscuri. The two belong together.

By bringing the Spartan Partheneion and Dioscuri into their dramas, Athenian writers make a pair between themselves and Sparta. There are two Alcmans, two Castors and two

Polydeuces: the ones in Sparta and the ones in Athens. In this dual, Athens compares itself with

Sparta, both othering Sparta and making it familiar for its audience. The Spartan and Athenian versions of the Dioscuri are like the twins themselves—separate and distinct, but still related and similar, and something remarkable.

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