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Kernos Revue internationale et pluridisciplinaire de religion grecque antique
22 | 2009 Varia
Édition électronique URL : http://journals.openedition.org/kernos/1551 DOI : 10.4000/kernos.1551 ISSN : 2034-7871
Éditeur Centre international d'étude de la religion grecque antique
Édition imprimée Date de publication : 1 janvier 2009 ISSN : 0776-3824
Référence électronique Kernos, 22 | 2009 [En ligne], mis en ligne le 01 janvier 2012, consulté le 23 septembre 2020. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/kernos/1551 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/kernos.1551
Ce document a été généré automatiquement le 23 septembre 2020.
Kernos 1
SOMMAIRE
Éditorial
Éditorial André Motte et Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge
Études
Polis Religion – A Critical Appreciation Julia Kindt
Divination, Royalty and Insecurity in Classical Sparta Anton Powell
Thetis and Cheiron in Thessaly Emma Aston
Apollo, Ennodia, and fourth-century Thessaly C.D. Graninger
Apollo Agyeus in Mesembria Ligia Ruscu
Du placenta aux figues sèches : mobilier funéraire et votif à Thasos Irini-Despina Papaikonomou et Stéphanie Huysecom-Haxhi
La preghiera del poeta nell’Alcibiade Secondo: un modello filosofico e cultuale Giorgio Scrofani
Serious Singing: The Orphic Hymns as Religious Texts Fritz Graf
The Golden Bough: Orphic, Eleusinian, and Hellenistic-Jewish Sources of Virgil’s Underworld in Aeneid VI Jan Bremmer
Chronique des activités scientifiques
Epigraphic Bulletin for Greek Religion 2006 (EBGR 2006) Angelos Chaniotis
Chronique archéologique de la religion grecque (ChronARG) François Quantin, Emmanuel Voutiras, Kalliopi Chatzinikolaou, Alexis D’Hautcourt, Natacha Massar, Christina Mitsopoulou, Isabelle Tassignon, Massimo Osanna, Ilaria Battiloro et Nicola Cucuzza
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Revue des livres
Compte rendu critique
Le sacrifice en questions Stéphanie Paul
Comptes rendus et notices bibliographiques
Angelo Brelich, Il politeismo Gabriella Pironti
Angelo Brelich, Presupposti del sacrificio umano Pierre Bonnechere
Barbara Kowalzig, Singing for the Gods. Performances of Myth and Ritual in Archaic and Classical Greece Claude Calame
Beate Dignas, Kai Trampedach (éds), Practitioners of the Divine. Greek Priests and Religious Officials from Homer to Heliodorus Stéphanie Paul
Pierre Sineux, Amphiaraos. Guerrier, devin et guérisseur Aurian Delli Pizzi
Sarah Iles Johnston, Ancient Greek Divination Antoine Kopij
Johannes Nollé, Kleinasiatische Losorakel. Astragal- und Alphabetchresmologien der hochkaiserzeitlichen Orakelrenaissance Fritz Graf
Anne Gangloff, Dion Chrysostome et les mythes. Hellénisme, communication et philosophie politique Yves Lafond
Derek Collins, Magic in the Ancient Greek World Magali de Haro Sanchez
Alberto Bernabé, Ana Isabel Jiménez San Cristóbal, Instructions for the Netherworld. The Orphic Gold Tablets Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge
Bibliotheca Isiaca I Laetizia Puccio
Lydie Bodiou, Dominique Frère, Véronique Mehl (éds), Parfums et odeurs dans l’Antiquité, et Annie Verbanck-Piérard, Natacha Massar, Dominique Frère (éds), Parfums de l’Antiquité. La rose et l’encens en Méditerranée Natacha Massar
Peter Kingsley, Dans les antres de la sagesse. Études parménidiennes André Motte
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Philippe Borgeaud, Francesca Prescendi (éds), Religions antiques. Une introduction comparée Égypte – Grèce – Proche-Orient – Rome Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge
Jan N. Bremmer, Greek Religion and Culture, the Bible and the Ancient Near East Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge
Claude Calame, Sentiers transversaux. Entre poétiques grecques et politiques contemporaines Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge
Actes de colloques, ouvrages collectifs et anthologies
Revue des actes de colloques, ouvrages collectifs et anthologies
Revues des revues Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge
Kernos, 22 | 2009 4
Éditorial
Kernos, 22 | 2009 5
Éditorial
André Motte et Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge
1 François Jouan nous a quittés le 14 avril dernier. Il était dans sa quatre-vingt-neuvième année. C’est sur la pointe des pieds qu’il est parti et, pour ceux qui ont eu le plaisir de le revoir et de l’entendre, en pleine forme, voici quelques semaines seulement, lorsqu’un magnifique volume d’hommage lui fut offert à l’Université de Nanterre, cette pénible nouvelle a été une surprise totale. Nombreux sont ceux qui porteront, dans leur cœur, le deuil de ce maître estimé qui joignait à une compétence scientifique de haut vol un ensemble peu banal de qualités humaines.
2 Notre peine est à la mesure de la reconnaissance très vive que nous lui vouons. Car nous avons bien souvent bénéficié de son accueil, de ses encouragements et de sa collaboration. Nous avons été à plusieurs reprises ses invités aux colloques du Centre d’études mythologiques qu’il présidait et, en 1989, nous avons organisé ensemble un colloque à Liège, sur le thème Mythe et politique. De son côté, il a participé à plusieurs colloques du CIERGA, il a été un collaborateur assidu du programme bibliographique Mentor et a toujours soutenu notre revue. Nous savons gré à notre collègue Jocelyne Peigney, qui lui fut très proche, d’avoir accepté de rendre à cet ami un hommage circonstancié dans le prochain numéro.
3 La peine d’avoir perdu François Jouan est adoucie par le constat que sa vie fut longue et pleine. En revanche, cette année aussi, deux collègues et amies de longue date sont parties et la tristesse de les avoir perdues se double d’un sentiment de révolte en regard de leur jeunesse, de leur vitalité et des promesses qu’elles portaient encore en elles.
4 Isabelle Ratinaud-Lachkar était une jeune femme dynamique et une chercheuse de premier plan. Elle enseignait l’histoire grecque à l’Université de Grenoble et faisait partie des fidèles du CIERGA depuis de nombreuses années. Nous avions fait sa connaissance au colloque de Valladolid en 1999, où elle avait présenté une belle recherche sur les héros homériques et les sanctuaires d’époque géométrique. Sa participation au colloque de 2003 avait donné lieu à un article étudiant les tombes argiennes de cette même période et les informations qu’elles permettent d’obtenir quant aux relations entre « public » et « privé », thème de la rencontre en question. D’autres publications sont venues illustrer son grand intérêt pour la période de formation de la cité grecque. Elle travaillait à une recherche d’envergure sur les
Kernos, 22 | 2009 6
bronzes du haut archaïsme, leurs usages et leurs valeurs, et venait d’être admise à l’Institut Universitaire de France en qualité de membre junior pour mener à bien ce projet, lorsque la maladie qu’elle combattait courageusement depuis plusieurs années l’a emportée.
5 Carmen Barrigón Fuentes était de la même génération qu’Isabelle et elle nous a quittés en quelques jours, foudroyée par la maladie. Elle était professeur à l’Université de Valladolid et, elle aussi, une fidèle des activités du CIERGA, sous la houlette d’Emilio Suárez de la Torre. Trois de ses publications ont trouvé place dans les volumes de Kernos et témoignent de sa fine connaissance de la poésie lyrique grecque. Nous avons perdu une collègue sympathique et une chercheuse de talent.
6 Quand paraîtra ce volume, le XIIe colloque du C.I.E.R.G.A. qui doit se dérouler à Dion, du 24 au 26 septembre, aura déjà eu lieu ou sera, en tout cas, très proche. Le thème choisi par les organisateurs, Archéologie et religion grecque répond certes à une volonté de redire l’importance de l’archéologie pour le progrès des études de religion grecque, mais c’est aussi une manière de rendre hommage à ceux qui, depuis une quinzaine d’années, collaborent ou ont collaboré à la Chronique archéologique que fait paraître Kernos et qu’apprécient de nombreux lecteurs. Près d’une quarantaine de communicants se feront entendre à Dion, ce qui donne à penser que l’organisation de la rencontre n’aura rien d’une sinécure. Il n’est donc pas trop tôt pour remercier notre collègue Emmanuel Voutiras d’avoir accepté cette responsabilité.
7 Le présent numéro réunit des études variées, dont la diversité des thèmes et le caractère international du panel de leurs auteurs nous enchantent. Ce constat nous permet de penser qu’après une vingtaine d’années d’existence, Kernos est devenu ce que nous avions appelé de nos vœux lors de sa création : une référence reconnue par ceux qui travaillent sur la religion grecque antique.
8 La reconnaissance de notre projet, Isabelle et Carmen nous l’avaient témoignée de longue date. Qu’il nous soit permis de leur dédier ce volume.
AUTEURS
ANDRÉ MOTTE Président du Comité de rédaction Vice-président du CIERGA
VINCIANE PIRENNE-DELFORGE Secrétaire de rédaction Secrétaire générale du CIERGA
Kernos, 22 | 2009 7
Études
Kernos, 22 | 2009 8
Polis Religion – A Critical Appreciation
Julia Kindt
1. Introduction
1 In current scholarship, particularly in the Anglo-American and Francophone worlds, “polis religion” has become a powerful interpretative model for the study of Greek religion.1 The model is now sufficiently well established for us to need to explore its implications as well as the alternatives that complement or move beyond it. Surprisingly, however, and in contrast to scholarship on Roman religion, the implications of the model are rarely discussed in the study of ancient Greek religion. There is no single account that directly and comprehensively responds to Sourvinou- Inwood’s two methodological articles on polis religion – the most explicit conceptual formulation of the model.2
2 This article offers a critical evaluation of where we stand. It identifies key problems in the scholarly use of the polis religion model and examines how individual scholars working with it have positioned their work in regard to them. A distinct focus will be on the way the model is used in the anglophone world (although French scholars, most notably François de Polignac’s work, are also occasionally brought into the picture).3 Rather than rejecting the model outright, the article aims to move current debates forward by exploring its scope and limits. It examines polis religion in its different forms and formulations and discusses the ways in which some scholars have recently sought to overcome the “polis-orientation” implicit in large parts of the work done in this field.
2. What is Polis Religion?
3 Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood coined the term “polis religion” to describe the “embeddedness” of Greek religion in the polis as the basic unit of Greek social and
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political life.4 Significantly, however, her definition of polis religion transcends the level of the individual polis. Polis religion operates on three levels of Greek society: the polis, the “world-of-the-polis system,” and the panhellenic dimension.5 The definition of Greek religion as polis religion follows this tripartite structure of Greek society and runs along the following lines.
4 During the Archaic and Classical periods, Greece was a conglomerate of largely autonomous city-states with no overall political or administrative structure. In the sphere of religion the polis provided the major context for religious beliefs and practices. The reach of Greek religious cults and festivals with their public processions and communal forms of sacrifice and prayer mapped onto the reach of polis institutions, such as the demes, the phratries and the genē.
5 At the same time, the religious inventories of the individual city-states resembled each other because of their shared past and the spread of epic poetry throughout the Greek world.6 In particular the poems of Homer and Hesiod had unified and structured the Greek pantheon. Religion thus offered a common set of ideologies and values, such as shared notions of purity and pollution, sacred and profane, human and divine, which were a reference point throughout the Greek world. Herodotus has the Athenians refer to the temples of the gods and the sacrifices as part of a shared feeling of Greekness.7 Greek religious beliefs and practices provided a strong link between the individual polis and the rest of the Greek world.
6 As the polis constituted the basic unit of Greek life, the panhellenic dimension of Greek religion – the religious institutions situated beyond the polis level, such as the large panhellenic sanctuaries or amphictyonies and religious leagues – was accessed through constant reference to the polis and its symbolic order. Whenever a delegation visited the oracle of Apollo at Delphi, or an athlete participated in the Olympic Games in honour of Zeus, they did so as members of a specific polis. Sourvinou-Inwood thus concludes that polis religion embodies, negotiates, and informs all religious discourse, including religious practices above the level of the individual poleis.8
7 In its general formulation, the model of polis religion reflects Durkheimian and structuralist efforts to ‘make sense’ of Greek religion as a symbolic system. In particular, the assumption of polis religion as the foundation of a moral community (in the sense of a community sharing a common set of norms and conventions) is Durkheimian in origin. The explicitly structuralist image frequently evoked to describe the symbolic nature of Greek religion is that of religion as a shared ‘language’ which enabled the Greeks to communicate their experiences of the external world to each other.9 At the same time, the model of polis religion attempts to overcome the ahistoricity of the strictly structuralist (or even formalist) perspective. It conceptualizes the systemic quality of Greek religion as that of a ‘meaningful structure’ grounded in the specific cultural setting of Archaic and Classical Greece. The concept of polis religion can hence be understood as an attempt to overcome the weakness inherent in its structuralist roots by grounding religion in the specific cultural setting of the Archaic and Classical polis as the cultural context of its symbolic meaning.
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3. Polis Religion – A Critical Evaluation
3.1. The ‘Embeddedness’ of Greek Religion
8 Focus on the polis as the basic unit of Greek life gave rise to a crucial assumption which underlies many works in the field: that of the ‘embeddedness’ of Greek religion in the polis. Scholars have made overlapping, but not fully congruent claims about this. What do we mean if we say that religion is ‘embedded’ in the polis? And to what extent is this claim correct?
9 The idea that Greek religion was embedded in the polis acted in part as a check on the intrusion of concepts derived from the study of modern religions, in particular Christianity. Greek religion differed from its modern counterparts in that it had no dogma, no official creed, no Bible, no priesthood in the form of a specially trained and entitled group of people. In the absence of a church, religion was organised alongside the socio-political structures of the polis. At the same time, Greek religion was not seen as an abstract category, largely distinct and separate from other spheres of life. Greek religion was religion-in-practice and Greek religious practices permeated all spheres of life. The embeddedness of Greek religion in the polis means that religious practice formed an integral part of the larger network of relationships within the polis.10 As a consequence, it is not possible to reflect upon Greek religion as a category in and of itself.11
10 Walter Burkert has identified three claims concerning the quality of the link between Greek religion and the polis inherent in the model of polis religion.12 According to Burkert, the concept encompasses, firstly, self-representation of the community through religious cults. Secondly, it suggests control of religious practices by the polis through its decision-making organs. Thirdly, according to Burkert, polis religion sometimes implies that the polis created and transformed its religious institutions, that the polis ‘actually makes religion.’13
11 The qualitative difference between Burkert’s second and third claims is that while both stress the aspect of control, the third assigns an even larger degree of agency to the polis by presenting religion as actively shaped by it according to its interests. In contrast to this definition, however, most scholars working with the model of polis religion prefer a more subtle formulation of the link between polis and religion, largely by-passing the question of direct control. In particular, the Oxford version of polis religion presents religion as merely mapped onto the institutional landscape of the polis, thus de-emphasising the aspect of agency. In the works of scholars like Robert Parker and Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood, the distinction between Burkert’s first and second claim thus becomes fluid as the socio-political structures of the polis are reformulated and maintained through their representation in religious ritual.
12 But can the communal self-representation of social groupings in the polis through religious cults serve as the ultimate proof that the polis and Greek religion were congruent? From the point of view of the polis, it is certainly correct that “each significant grouping within the polis was articulated and given identity through cult,” as Sourvinou-Inwood has argued.14 The important subdivisions of the polis, such as the demes and phratries, were all represented in specific cults and even politically marginalized groups, such as women, had their own festivals and religious services specifically reserved for them.15
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13 The representation of the social groupings of the polis in Greek religion, however, does not allow us to conclude the reverse: that Greek religion was entirely absorbed by the polis. There is plenty of evidence for religious practices unmediated by and without any obvious link to the polis. Take for example the consultation of oracles, such as those at Delphi, Dodona and Didyma or any of the less-known oracular shrines. In support of the polis-model one could, of course, point out that the fee (pelanos) that had to be paid before the consultation was negotiated between the officials of the oracle and the polis from which the consultant came.16 While the economic side of oracle consultations thus fits into the framework of polis religion this is not always true for the responses received there. Our sources tell us, for example, of oracle consultations of a very personal nature, the significance of which is more embedded in personal circumstances than in polis concerns. In particular the corpus of responses from Dodona attests to a variety of personal issues on which divine advice was sought.17 Questions at Dodona were typically scratched on lead tablets, some of which classical archaeology has brought to light. Callicrates’s question of whether he will receive a child from his wife Nike, for instance, hardly reflects a polis concern.18 Likewise, Thrasyboulos’s desire to know which god he should sacrifice to in order to improve his eyesight expresses a personal health issue and hence a private concern. The same is true when Agis consults Zeus regarding the whereabouts of certain lost blankets and whether or not they were stolen.19 The polis model is of little help to us in understanding the motivations, intentions and dynamics of these private oracle consultations. Another example of Greek religion beyond the polis is the festival calendar, which is embedded in the agricultural year rather than in the institutions of the polis. Greek religion transcends the polis. Even though his attitude towards religion is not straightforward, Aristotle’s perspective seems to support this view: in Politics, he imagined a polis from which religion was more or less entirely absent.20
14 Such examples reveal another dimension of the embeddedness of Greek religion, which is not included in Burkert’s list: the embeddedness of Greek religion in what could be called the symbolic order of the polis.21 Although private concerns behind oracle consultations and the Greek festive calendar may fall outside the scope of an institutionalized definition of the polis, they remain within the limits of the shared beliefs, ideas and ideals of the polis community.
15 Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood, in particular, inspired perhaps by work in cultural anthropology (notably by Clifford Geertz),22 has focused on religion as part of a more general semantics of Greek culture. Several of her works explore religious phenomena as forms of collective representation, which must be studied in the context of the larger cultural system that generated and received them.23 To “read” such religious symbols we must place them back in their original culture. “Reading” as an act of decoding cultural symbols is a central concept running through all of her monographs. Sourvinou-Inwood’s main goal, then, is to reconstruct the ancient perceptual filters which have shaped these symbols and through which they were perceived in their own time.
16 This is notably different from, and more powerful than, the simple claim that the polis controlled religious services and institutions. It is also a more all-encompassing concept than the view that Greek religion was projected onto the socio-political landscape of the polis, an idea which Sourvinou-Inwood has suggested elsewhere.24 Yet the question arises whether the label of polis religion is still valid. What aspects of this
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kind of embeddedness are polis-specific? Are the perceptual filters situated first and foremost in the institutions and the ideology of the polis? As soon as we move away from matters of agency and look at larger religious concepts, such as death, pollution and piety, we find that the symbolic order of the polis coincides with the symbolic order of Greek culture and society more generally. Taking this into account, is it still correct to speak of polis religion, or should we rather say that Greek religion was embedded in Greek culture with the polis as its paradigmatic worshipping group?
17 To conclude this line of argument: the relationship between the polis and Greek religion is more complex than has been assumed. As Burkert rightly remarked: “Polis religion is a characteristic and representative part of Greek religion, but only part of it. There is religion without the polis, even if there is no polis without religion.”25 In other words: the polis is no less embedded in Greek religion than Greek religion in the polis. The polis provides an essential framework for assessing Greek religion but it should by no means be the only one.
3.2. Inconsistencies
18 The systemic perspective on Greek religion has been criticised for assuming too much coherence and internal consistency in Greek religious beliefs and practices. In particular, John Gould has pointed to the limits of the assumption of internal coherence within the system of Greek religion: “… Greek religion remains fundamentally improvisatory. … there is always room for new improvisation, for the introduction of new cults and new observances: Greek religion is not theologically fixed and stable, and it has no tradition of exclusion or finality: it is an open, not a closed system.”26
19 Unfortunately, in the historiographic practice of works on Greek religion, such concessions have all too frequently remained mere programmatic statements, made in the introduction in order to silence potential disagreement before the writer produces yet another account of polis religion which makes perfect sense in all its aspects. According to such views, ideally, all groups present in the polis are perfectly proficient in the “language” of religion, thus creating a consensual, internally consistent and mono-vocal symbolic order. Although scholars working with the model readily admit that the polis consists of different individuals with different, even diverging attitudes, there is little space in their works for personal religion, the fault-lines between contradictory religious beliefs and practices, and the internal frictions, inconsistencies and tensions springing from them. Structurally speaking, deviance from the common Greek “language” of religion is conceivable only as a conscious inversion of the rules set by the polis, thus staying within the same symbolic order.27
20 Against such tendencies, Henk S. Versnel dedicated two volumes to the revelation of inconsistencies within the system of Greek religion.28 A similar point is made by Paul Veyne concerning the coexistence of divergent, even contradictory forms of belief in ancient Greece.29 Veyne makes a strong case for the need to look at beliefs in the context of varying concepts of truth. These concepts of truth, Veyne argues, are inherent in different epistemological discourses (such as mythology and historiography) and much of Veyne’s interpretative effort is spent on uncovering their hidden rules. Moreover, Veyne reminds us about variations in religious beliefs over time, which change together with the concepts of truth which underlie them. A good example is perhaps the changing Greek attitude towards mythology and the
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supernatural. What was for Homer and others a special realm of knowledge authenticated by the Muses, to which the distinction between truth and falsehood did not apply, increasingly became subject to criticism and intellectual scrutiny. In the works of Herodotus, Thucydides and other fifth-century thinkers, for example, narratives about the gods were subjected to critical inquiry; in their writings, the supernatural is no longer on a separate plane but has to “fit in with the rest of reality” to reassert its place in the cultural and historical memory of Greece.30 It follows from Veyne’s work that Greek religion was not mono-vocal discourse and that its different aspects and their relationship to each other changed over time.
21 The construction of the polis as an internally and chronologically more or less consistent and monolithic symbolic order is a simplification, which does not do justice to the internal dynamics of these states. Recent work in social anthropology suggests that we should replace the concept of culture as a consensual sphere of interaction with a more flexible and fluid understanding of it as open to the internal frictions resulting from change and social transformation.31 Josiah Ober has borrowed concepts of culture from social anthropology and introduced them into the field of Classics.32 Appropriating Sewell’s model of a “thinly coherent” culture Ober emphasizes the need to allow for multiple, even divergent identities within Greek society (“the cultures within Greek culture”).33
22 In contrast to a “thick coherence”, the assumption of “thin coherence” de-emphasises high levels of connectedness between individuals within one culture zone, thus allowing space for cultural contestation and transformation. Accordingly, Ober envisages a study of Hellenism with a strong focus on the “dialectical tensions” between various levels and microcosms of Greek culture. Greek, in particular Athenian society, thus appears as a space of internal contestation and debate, with the political (that is the polis) at its centre but by no means limited to it.34
23 The model of a thinly coherent Greek culture has yet to be applied to the study of Greek religion, but a more flexible concept of culture as contested and changing would certainly be productive. Thin coherence would, for example, allow us to bring in religious movements such as Orphism and the use of magical practices, which have so far been marginalised in the study of polis religion. Ultimately, we will have to consider the link between each one of them and the polis separately, for they relate differently to the structures and institutions of polis religion. But despite the differences between these religious movements and practices they do not fit all into the conventional model of polis religion.
24 Discussing the power of the polis-model to explain religious beliefs and practices above the polis level, Sourvinou-Inwood states that “polis religion embraces, contains, and mediates all religious discourse – with the ambiguous and uncertain exception of some sectarian discourse.”35 Her cautious ambivalence towards “sectarian” religious beliefs and practices is symptomatic of the general approach to these cults of scholars working with the polis model. Religious beliefs and practices that do not conform to the polis model, that is those practices that are not administered by the polis and that do not represent the socio-political order of the polis, are frequently seen as being by definition not religion proper. The ongoing debate of what separates magic from religion, for example, is frequently supported by a definition of Greek religion as civic religion.36 The much-debated question of the nature and quality of the religious phenomenon referred to as Orphism, in particular of whether Orphism constitutes a separate
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“religious movement”, likewise reflects the difficulties we face when we try to position these cults as distinct from mainstream Greek religion.37 To situate such cults and practices strictly outside Greek religion narrowly defined as polis religion however, as Sourvinou-Inwood suggests, runs the risk of circularity. It marginalises exactly those areas of religious activity which the model cannot sufficiently explain.
25 The relationship between phenomena like magic, Orphism and Bacchic cults on the one hand and traditional religious beliefs and practices on the other is much more complicated than a simple separation of the religion of the polis from “sectarian movements” might tempt us to assume. To start with, despite their distinct features Orphism, Bacchic cults and magical practices respond to and interact with more widely held beliefs and practices of mainstream Greek religion. The Orphic Theogony, for example, is an extension of the Hesiodic genealogy of the gods. It expands Hesiod’s theogony by adding two predecessors, Night and Protogonos, to the first king Ouranos and extends its end with the reign of Dionysos.38 The result is a reorganisation of the Greek pantheon, but a reorganisation that takes the traditional model as its point of departure.39 Recent research has stressed that Greek magical practices also overlapped significantly with traditional religion. A look at the Papyri Graecae Magicae, for example reveals the closeness of magical formulae to Greek prayer.40 And both concepts refer to similar notions of the supernatural. In particular, if we consider religious beliefs as they come together in the minds of those involved in them, a strict distinction between sectarian movements, magic and traditional religion becomes problematic.
26 Strict distinction between both types of religious activity becomes even more untenable if we consider that those involved in magic, Orphism and other “unauthorized” or “elective” cults were not recruited from socially or politically marginal groups. As Stephen Halliwell has recently pointed out “membership in some kinds of separate religious groups could coexist with involvement in more ‘mainstream’ forms of Greek religion, and still more with full participation in communal life.”41 To equate religious marginality with social marginality is “a simplification of the nature of (Greek) religion itself”.42 Some of the Orphic gold tablets were found in the tombs of relatively affluent and hence socially accepted members of society.43 Likewise, those engaged in polis religion were the same people who would in specific circumstances resort to magic.44 Religious phenomena, such as magic, Orphism and Bacchic cults remain deeply embedded in the cities’ socio-political and normative structures.
27 Some of the most productive current work therefore focuses on the relationship between “unauthorised” religious beliefs and practices and the city without simplifying either entity as closed and monolithic.45 For example, in an article exploring the relationship between representations of maenadism in Greek tragedy and art, particularly on vases, Robin Osborne has argued convincingly that during the fifth century BC, ecstatic female worship of Dionysos was an accepted part of Athenian religious experience and not a unique and unusual feature.46 From this point of view, the Bacchae of Euripides “is not helping Athenians to come to terms with the alien but helping them to see just how shocking were the rituals to which they were so accustomed.”47
28 The notion of “thin coherence” might provide an invaluable framework for this and other areas of study investigating the unity and diversity of Greek religious discourse. It is the diversity of Greek religious beliefs and practices in particular that compose the fabric of Greek polytheism. Thin coherence might therefore offer conceptual guidance
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in further developing a framework for researching religious identities that both are and are not like polis religion without overemphasising similarities or differences between religious phenomena. To explain away existing inconsistencies is more dogmatic than the religion we seek to explain.
29 However, at this stage, we must include a caveat: the study of inconsistencies is fruitful only when it is itself “embedded” (along the lines suggested by Ober, for example) in a wider framework of perspectives exploring the nature of different – even divergent – belief systems within the wider, general culture. The simple presentation of inconsistencies cannot be heuristically satisfying as we cannot be sure that what we are dealing with is more than just our failure to see coherence. The only way to distinguish, to some extent at least, our own failure to understand from true plurality of belief is to place such dissonances within a larger framework of cultural contestation.
3.3. Greek Religion: the Local and the General
30 Classical scholars have extended the notion of the polis as a closed hermeneutic system from the individual polis, to the “world of the polis” system and beyond, to the panhellenic dimension of Greek religion. As a result, many general introductions to ancient Greek religion show an intrinsic and ultimately unresolvable tension between local religious beliefs and practices and Greek religion more broadly. In such works the local is always implied as the conceptual antipode to a more general, more typical, less idiosyncratic layer of Greek religion and vice versa. Unfortunately, however, despite the heavy weight they are made to carry, both concepts remain largely undefined in current scholarship.48
31 Take for example Walter Burkert’s description of the Greek gods in Greek Religion. His account of Aphrodite is a description of her typical representations and areas of competence as the goddess of love and sexuality.49 Local variations are mostly used to illuminate such general features. The appearance of pictorial representations of Aphrodite dressed in wide robes and wearing the polos in the first half of the seventh century BC is welcomed by Burkert as the “normal representation of the goddess” that superseded the orientalizing nude figure.50 What motivated this change? In what pictorial and religious local contexts do these “normal representations” of the goddess appear, hence assigning them a special meaning? Such questions do not feature in Burkert’s account. Likewise, the depiction of the nude Aphrodite about to take a bath, crafted by Praxiteles around 340 BC for the sanctuary at Cnidos, is mentioned only in passing to introduce the general popularity of this theme in later times: “for centuries this figure remained the most renowned representation of the goddess of love, the embodiment of all womanly charms.”51 The circumstances, which explain this change in representation as well as the contexts in which this statue features at Cnidos, remain unexplored. Burkert’s account is driven by the overall aim to bring single local aspects of the Greek pantheon together into one more or less coherent narrative of ancient Greek religion.52 Similar observations could be made concerning the way in which Burkert and other scholars deal with forms of epikleseis, divinatory rituals and initiation procedures that are specific to a given polis. The rituals that do not conform to a standard model of Greek religion are sidelined in such accounts. The consistency of Greek religion seems to be merely an observation of the similarity evident once sufficient local variations are stripped away.
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32 In Religions of the Ancient Greeks, Simon Price addresses this problem directly: “I have tried … to examine local practices and myths and their relationship to the common Greek system.”53 His chapter on Gods, Myths and Festivals is typical of his overall approach.54 The chapter attempts to distinguish panhellenic from local myths; both are dealt with in two separate subsections. There is, however, a tension between both concepts (which are never defined) that runs deeply through both sections. In his account of Panhellenic myth, for example, Price stresses that, despite the preference of Homer and Hesiod, there was no single authoritative version of a myth. He advocates the need to respect individual tellings: “Given that the Greek myths were not rigid, it is methodologically very important that we respect the individual telling or representation of the myths. It is absurd to weave together a compendium of Greek mythology from extracts in different authors.”55 This is certainly correct. At the same time, however, we must ask in how far it then makes sense at all to strictly distinguish between both categories. If individual tellings of myth are paramount what justifies the distinction of a general Panhellenic layer of Greek mythology?
33 Curiously, for example, the iconography of the altar of Zeus and Hera at Pergamon in Asia Minor features as an example for panhellenic myth, apparently because it highlights Hesiodic thought.56 Here and elsewhere, Price’s use of both categories is somewhat confusing. A panhellenic myth seems to mean merely a story that features in the authoritative accounts of Homer and Hesiod and/or has no immediate local references. But this distinction proves ever more troubling and it is not always clear why his examples should be subsumed in either section. In his concluding section he states: “Some local myths did not simply invoke Panhellenic deities in actions affecting particular communities, they offered a refraction of the Panhellenic deity through the lens of local concerns. For Greek gods existed at both, the Panhellenic and the local level, and the Panhellenic structures of the pantheon varied with different local selections and emphases.”57 This point is of course well taken. Yet in his endeavour to highlight both diversity and conformity, there is a real risk to end up doing justice to neither the local nor the general. Until we find a more complex conceptualisation of the fabric of Greek religious beliefs and practices, Greek religion, at least in our general accounts of it, will appear to be less than the sum of its parts.
34 In this area of scholarly activity, the polis model can provide a viable way around such problems. If fully embraced, the polis model can provide a framework with sufficient flexibility to do justice to the diverse and particularistic nature of the Greek world. In particular, the focus on the specificity of individual poleis, a central tenet of the model of polis religion, can help correct simplifying assumptions concerning the unity of ancient Greek religion. It is thus one of the model’s strengths that it is able to embrace the plurality of Greek religious beliefs and practices in a manner that moves significantly beyond the impasse between local and general layers of ancient Greek religion.
35 Robert Parker’s comprehensive account of the religious life of just one individual polis provides a good example of a productive use of the polis model in this way.58 Two of his works are entirely devoted to Athens and offer a thorough investigation of religious practices of different social groups such as the demes and phratries by themselves and in their interaction with each other. In Parker’s work the local is not conceptualised as the (always implied) conceptual antipode of Greek religion as such, but functions rather
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as its own self-contained unit of investigation. It may be inferred from Parker’s study of Athenian religion that in some ways all of Greek religion is local religion.
36 Starting from Parker’s work, there is, however, a real need to move beyond the well- known case of Athens. After all, the Greek world consisted, according to a recent count by Hansen, of at least 1035 individual poleis.59 From the point of view of local cults and their sometimes problematic relationship to the larger system of Greek polis religion, it is unfortunate that the Copenhagen Polis Centre has largely excluded the religious dimension from its inventory of the poleis.60 The Centre’s recently published account includes selective and uneven information about religious practice in the individual poleis and largely ignores religious institutions situated above or below the polis level. 61 A more comprehensive assessment of cults and sanctuaries would have provided an invaluable way into the study of the religion of individual poleis.
37 The model of polis religion can and should locate each local cult within the religious system of its own polis. This, in turn, opens up a variety of directions for future research. Other questions can and have been asked. Beate Dignas, for example, has investigated the relationship of polis religion to the local economy.62 The debate surrounding de Polignac’s controversial thesis concerning the role of religion in the formation of the polis during the Archaic period has also inspired a variety of studies investigating the role of polis religion in community and state-building in different parts of the Greek world (more on this below).63
3.4. Developments Beyond the Classical Period
38 During the Hellenistic and Roman periods, the “world-of-the-polis system” underwent profound changes and was gradually subsumed under new administrative and political structures. These structures were not rooted in the polis. In addition, new forms of religious beliefs and practices were introduced, such as worship of the emperor, and exotic cults like those of Isis and Sarapis. These new forms of worship took their legitimacy and their binding force from contexts of social and political life beyond the polis.
39 With such differences in mind, most works on Greek religion based on the model of polis religion have focused on the Archaic and Classical periods.64 Despite the fundamental changes in the religious landscape between the 8th and 4th centuries BC, these periods are frequently constructed as a uniform epoch in which time can be ignored in favour of a “mutually sustaining universe of unchanging meaning”.65 But the model of polis religion has become so powerful that even works covering later periods frequently rely implicitly or explicitly on the definition of Greek religion as polis religion. The result is either an overemphasis on continuities in religious beliefs and practices or the acknowledgement of differences – without, however, attempting to ground these differences in a more comprehensive account of Greek religion during the Hellenistic and Roman periods.66 We still lack, for example, a comprehensive work on Hellenistic religion which strikes a subtle balance between continuity and change.67
40 In this respect Parker’s two-volume work on Athenian religion can serve as an example of the difficulty of navigating around the anti-historicist tendencies that are so widespread in studies based on the model of polis religion. In contrast to the work of Bruit Zaidman and Schmitt Pantel, which is structured entirely thematically, Parker’s recognizes the need to include both perspectives.68 His first volume is explicitly entitled
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Athenian Religion: A History.69 This chronological study of the polis religion of Athens is supplemented by a second volume, which is thematically organised.70
41 However, Parker’s decision to split his account into separate volumes reflects and ultimately embodies the difficulty of the model to combine synchronic and diachronic perspectives. The real challenge would have been to combine both perspectives in a dialectical, mutually reinforcing fashion.Just as the synchronic perspective is at the heart of cultural analysis, it needs to be in direct communication with the diachronic perspective, since it reveals the very processes which shape and are shaped by it.71 For a diachronic account to go beyond providing only a “thin” narration of the particulars of change over time it must be grounded simultaneously in “thick” synchronic analysis. To achieve such an active oscillation between the two perspectives, however, would have required Parker to establish more explicit links between the material presented in both volumes by giving up the two-volume structure in favour of a more dialectical account of continuity and change. The arbitrariness with which much of the material is distributed between the two books reveals how artificial and foreign the two-volume structure adopted is to the data discussed. As a result, Parker is ultimately unable to connect structure with agency – despite the detail and analytical rigor that distinguish his work.72
3.5. Religious Ideas vs. Religious Practice
42 Scholars working with the model of polis religion focus strongly on religious agency while largely excluding religious beliefs from their accounts of Greek religion.73 Although Sourvinou-Inwood hoped to have “proposed certain reconstructions of ancient religious perceptions pertaining especially to the articulation of polis religion”, beliefs do not feature in her definition of polis religion.74
43 The model of polis religion was successful in helping us analyse religious practice, because of its “embeddedness” in the polis, since human agency (at least during Archaic and Classical times) always refers in one way or the other to the polis. Pauline Schmitt Pantel’s La cité au banquet may serve as an example of the kind of questions asked within the framework of polis religion: her book is a comprehensive investigation of the role of conviviality as a religious, social and political institution in the formulation of identities within the Archaic and Classical Greek poleis.75 Other works demonstrate the close link between religion and power in pagan priesthood or depict the introduction of new gods as a powerful tool to achieve social and political change.76
44 The neglect of religious beliefs came at a high price, however. In an attempt to distinguish one’s own work as much as possible from the earlier associative studies of Greek religious beliefs, it became desirable to draw a somewhat artificial line between religious beliefs on the one hand and polis-oriented religious practice on the other. Walter Burkert, for example, concludes his argument about the existence of a Greek religion beyond the polis by pointing out that “… there were no attempts of a polis to influence ‘belief,’ a concept which hardly exists in practical Greek religion. It was Wilamowitz who wrote Der Glaube der Hellenen.”77
45 However, it was Burkert who wrote Homo Necans, a work that assigned a central role to the deep-seated meaning of blood sacrifice. Against this background it is curious that he makes so strict a distinction between religious beliefs and practices. In the
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statement quoted above, religious belief is divorced from religious practice and becomes a product of modern rather than ancient imagination. While this might have been true for the earlier unreflected theology of Harrison, Cornford or Murray, it is certainly less correct for the reconstruction of Greek religious beliefs and practices that carefully reflects on its own premises. In addition, to note that the polis did not try to influence belief and that belief was absent from “practical Greek religion” is to state that to believe and to act are two fundamentally separate activities. Belief and practice may in theory be separate; but they may also be causally related. Belief informs practice just as much as practice informs belief. To return to Burkert’s example: the practice of Greek blood sacrifice cannot properly be understood without taking into account a variety of beliefs that feed into this practice. These include, but are not limited to, Greek notions about the gods and their reciprocal relationship with humanity and Greek ideas about sacrificial purity and the special status of blood. Even if Burkert himself did not cast the problem in this way, there is now a growing scholarly trend to bring the category of “belief” more firmly into the picture.78
3.6. ‘Beyond the Polis’ in the Other Direction – The Look from the Polis Level Up
46 Finally, in discussing the potential and the limits of the polis model, it is important not only to ‘look down’ from the level of the polis and to focus on the reluctance of the model to address issues of personal belief, etc., as I have done in the sections above. It is equally pressing and valid to ‘look up’ from the level of the polis to religious practices not contained by or articulated within the polis context.
47 When it was first published in 1984 Francois de Polignac’s influential study Naissance de la cité grecque (published in English as Cults, Territory and the Origin of the Greek City State) triggered a widespread debate concerning the links between religious identity and polis identity. De Polignac’s claim that the city came to define itself first and foremost as a religious community inspired various case studies further exploring the religious landscape of Greece as a bipolar geometrical plane, in which the city was shaped in a dynamic tension between centre and periphery. In the larger picture of studies on ancient Greek religion, de Polignac’s pointed formulation represented a broader trend that tended to overemphasize the role of the polis as the main organising principle of Greek cultural practices including, but not limited to, religion. Other socio-political units besides the polis, such as the ethne, were seen as remnants in a larger evolutionary scheme that culminated in the polis.79 As a result, the existence of alternative worshipping communities and individual religious practices outside the framework of the polis has been neglected by the model of polis religion just as much as personal issues of belief during the Classical and Hellenistic periods.
48 In response to de Polignac’s simplifying yet through-provoking claim, classical scholars have recently sought to draw a more complicated picture of religious transformation. The critical discussion of his work induced de Polignac himself to give up strictly bipolar synchronicity in favour of a more chronologically and geographically nuanced picture.80 His most recent work on Greek sanctuaries and festivals during the archaic period, emphasizes the necessity to work with multiple frameworks if we want to understand ancient Greek religion:
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The role of sanctuaries and festivals in archaic Greece cannot be analyzed either by isolating one element, or be general categorizations determined by rigid and constant parameters… It should rather be seen as a system in which the meaning of each element is determined by complex interactions with other components, combing long-lasting religious conceptions and rapid shifts in cult practices and organization. Sanctuaries are certainly among the places where the extraordinary vitality and inventiveness of archaic Greece are at their most visible.81
49 Poststructuralist notions of religious signification seem to have superseded the structuralist conception of the Greek sacred landscape.
50 The larger significance of this debate for scholarship on Greek religion certainly lies in its re-evaluation of the role of the polis in relation to other units of collective identity. The prevailing view now seems to be that the polis did not so much replace older identities as offer an alternative model, which continued to co-exist with other forms of identity and organization. Accordingly, recent works in the field stress that the coming of the polis (in itself by no means a chronologically identifiable “event”) is just one episode in a much longer history of religious transformation. This change of focus enables a more differentiated perspective, which takes into account alternative worshipping communities that continued to exist besides the polis during the Iron Age, the Archaic and later periods.
51 Catherine Morgan, for example, has suggested that we complicate our picture of Early Iron Age and Archaic cult practice in various ways.82 She advocates a more nuanced chronological investigation of how the development of the polis did and did not affect early Greek cult activity. Drawing in particular on material remains from the margins of the emerging polis-world (Thessaly, Phokis, East Lokris, Achaia and Arcadia), Morgan revises widespread notions in scholarship that were primarily based on the cases of large and central poleis, such as Athens, Sparta and Argos which were atypical in many ways.83 For the region of Thessaly, for example, Morgan has traced an interesting development in which a local Early Iron Age cult of Enodia gradually turned into a pan- Thessalian deity identified with the Olympic divinity of Zeus Thaulios.84 Pointing in particular at the existence of ethnos sanctuaries in this and other territories, Morgan concludes that “the priority accorded to the polis … as the most dynamic, creative and influential form of political organization is no longer sustainable.”85 In several archaeological case studies Alexandros Mazarakis Ainian has come to a similar conclusion.86 Most notably, perhaps, in his rich and comprehensive investigation of the genesis of the Greek temple between the 11th and the 8th centuries BC, Mazarakis Ainian has variously pointed to the existence of other worshipping communities above and below the polis level: “The worship of the gods could be carried out on various levels of the society’s structure: it could be a matter of the initiative of a single individual, of a household, of one or more kinship groups, of the polis or even of a confederation of poleis. Before the creation of the polis, however, cult practice would have been either a matter of private initiative of an individual or a household, or that of a kinship group.” 87
52 The picture that emerges from such research suggests that from about 700 BC onwards, the polis provided an important organising principle of Greek religious beliefs and practices. At the same time Greek religion remained a vehicle for the communication of other, larger identities, most notably that of ethnic identity.88 For the late Archaic, Classical and Hellenistic periods, there is plenty of evidence of ritual activity administered by the ethne, not the poleis. An inscription dating from around 216 BC, for
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example, testifies the transfer of a sanctuary with an important festival from the city of Anactorium in North-western Greece to the Acarnanian league.89 During the Hellenistic Period then, this sanctuary served as a symbolic centre of the league, distinct from its political centre, which remained on Leucas.90 A treaty dating from around 300 BC, likewise attests to religious practices administered by the ethne: the sanctuary of Athena Itonia served as the centre of the Boeotian ethnos; the Pamboiotia, special Boeotian games held in honour of Athena Itonia, were held in Koroneia even before that time.91 As well as ethnos cults, there were, of course, also several religious institutions, in particular large and important sanctuaries, that were administered by amphictionies. These leagues of several poleis (such as the Panionian amphictiony which looked after a common Poseidon sanctuary located on the semi-island of Mycale) provide another example of Greek religious structures situated beyond the polis.92
Conclusion
53 There is, of course, no single approach, that either can or should supersede the polis model. The model’s strength lies in its capacity to explain an important structuring principle of ancient Greek religion. For a religion that lacked the organizational structures characteristic of most modern religions, such as a church, a creed and a dogma, it offers an alternative concept of religious administration and signification. Most notably, perhaps, if fully embraced, the model of polis religion helps us to move away from generalizing assumptions about the nature of “Greek religion as such” and encourages us to pay closer attention to the fabric of Greek religion as an agglomeration of “local” variants.
54 The weaknesses of the model, however, spring from its too narrow and problematic promotion on the polis as the primary discourse of power relevant for the study of ancient Greek religion. To start with, the model of polis religion in some forms and formulations renders Greek religion less comprehensible than it ought to be. There is, for example, a certain conceptual vagueness in works based on the polis model concerning the nature of the embeddedness of Greek religion in the polis. The exact quality of the relationship between religious structures and socio-political structures remains under-theorized in many works based on the model. Diverging claims range from the symbolic (or ideological) embeddedness to a more practice-oriented “embeddedness” of Greek religion in the polis (see above). One result of this is that scholarly accounts oscillate between the depiction of religion as a mainly passive force within society (mapping onto the reach of polis institutions) to the depiction of a more active role of religion at the other. Both perspectives, however, assume that the structured (systematic) character of Greek religion ran parallel to the political and social structures of the polis. This assumption frequently results in a focus on synchronic coherence and consistency. Under such a paradigm local differences and diachronic change are conceived merely as an inversion of existing structures – or, worse, as deviation and decline from “proper” Greek religion.
55 In addition, the model does not ask all the questions one might wish about Greek religion. While the polis model is able to explain the official response to religious activity it does not necessarily provide a key to understanding the appeal of this activity from the point of view of those involved in it.93 Nor does the focus on the mediation of the polis help us to appreciate the religion of alternative socio-political
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units above and below the polis level.94 In particular the strong focus on religious practices combined with the relative neglect of religious beliefs is a serious limitation of current scholarship in the field.
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DE POLIGNAC, F., Cults, Territory, and the Origin of the Greek City State, transl. J. Lloyd, Chicago, 1991 (French orig. La Naissance de la cité grecque : cultes, espace et société, Paris, 1984).
DE POLIGNAC, F., “Repenser la ‘cité’ ? Rituels et société en Grèce archaïque,” in M.H. HANSEN & K. RAAFLAUB (eds.), Studies in the Ancient Greek Polis, Stuttgart, 1995, p. 7-19.
DE POLIGNAC, F., “Sanctuaries and Festivals,” in H. VAN WEES & K. RAAFLAUB (eds.), Blackwell Companion to Archaic Greece, Oxford, forthcoming 2009, p. 427-443.
PRICE, S. & KEARNS, E. (eds.), Oxford Dictionary of Classical Myth and Religion, Oxford, 2003.
PRICE, S., Religions of the Ancient Greeks, Cambridge, 1999.
ROHDE, E., Psyche. Seelencult und Unsterblichkeitsglaube der Griechen, Freiburg, 1894 (Engl. transl. Psyche. The Cult of Souls and Belief in Immortality among the Greeks, London, 1925).
ROSENBERGER, V., “Die Ökonomie der Pythia oder: wirtschaftliche Aspekte griechischer Orakel,” Laverna 10 (1999), p. 153-164.
RÜPKE, J., “Kult jenseits der Polisreligion. Polemiken und Perspektiven,” Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum 47 (2004), p. 5-15.
SCHACHTER, A., The Cults of Boeotia, vol. 1, London, 1981.
SCHEID, J., Quand faire c’est croire : les rites sacrificiels des Romains, Paris, 2005.
SCHMITT PANTEL, P., La cité au banquet. Histoire des repas publics dans les cités grecques, Rome, 1992.
SEWELL, W., “The Concept(s) of Culture,” in V. BONNELL & L. HUNT (eds.), Beyond the Cultural Turn. New Directions in the Study of Society and Culture, Berkeley, 1999, p. 35-61.
SINN, U., “Greek Sanctuaries as Places of Refuge,” in N. MARINATOS & R. HÄGG (eds.), Greek Sanctuaries. New Approaches, London, 1993, p. 8-109, reprinted in R. BUXTON (ed.), Oxford Readings in Greek Religion, Oxford, 2000, p. 155-179.
SMITH, J.Z., Map is not Territory. Studies in the History of Religions, Chicago, 1993.
SØRENSEN, J.P. (ed.), Rethinking Religion. Studies in the Hellenistic Process, Copenhagen, 1989.
SOURVINOU-INWOOD, C., “Persephone and Aphrodite at Locri. A Model for Personality Definitions in Greek Religion,” JHS 98 (1978), p. 101-121.
SOURVINOU-INWOOD, C., ‘Reading’ Greek Culture. Text and Images, Rituals and Myths, Oxford, 1991.
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SOURVINOU-INWOOD, C., ‘Reading’ Greek Death. To the End of the Classical Period, Oxford, 1995.
SOURVINOU-INWOOD, C., “What is Polis Religion?,” in R. BUXTON (ed.), Oxford Readings in Greek Religion, Oxford, 2000a, p. 13-37, first published in O. MURRAY & S. PRICE (eds.), The Greek City from Homer to Alexander, Oxford, 1990, p. 295-322.
SOURVINOU-INWOOD, C., “Further Aspects of Polis Religion,” in R. BUXTON (ed.), Oxford Readings in Greek Religion, Oxford, 2000b, p. 38-55, first published in AION(Arch) 10 (1988), p. 259-274.
SOURVINOU-INWOOD, C., Tragedy and Athenian Religion, Lanham, 2003.
TAUSEND, K., Amphiktyonie und Symmachie. Formen zwischenstaatlicher Beziehungen im archaischen Griechenland, Stuttgart, 1992.
VERNANT, J.-P., Mythe et religion en Grèce ancienne, Paris, 1990.
VERSNEL, H.S., Inconsistencies of Greek and Roman Religion, 2 vols. Leiden, 1990, 1993.
VERSNEL, H.S., “Some Reflections on the Relationship Magic-Religion,” Numen 38 (1991), p. 177-197.
VEYNE, P., Did the Greeks Believe in Their Myths? An Essay on Constitutive Imagination, transl. P. Wissing, Chicago, 1988 (French orig. Les Grecs ont-ils cru à leurs mythes ?, Paris, 1983).
WEST, M., The Orphic Poems, Oxford, 1983.
WOOLF, G., “Polis-Religion and its Alternatives in the Roman Provinces,” in H. CANCIK & J. RÜPKE (eds.), Römische Reichsreligion und Provinzialreligion, Tübingen, 1997, p. 71-84.
ZUNTZ, G., Persephone. Three Essays in Religion and Thought in Magna Graecia, Oxford, 1971.
NOTES
1. Earlier versions and aspects of this article were presented at the annual convention of the American Philological Association (APA) in San Diego in 2007 and at a conference in honour of Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood at Reading University in 2008. I would like to thank the audiences at both conferences as well as Robin Osborne, Richard Gordon, Jan Bremmer, and Bruce Lincoln and the anonymous referees of Kernos for commenting on earlier drafts of this article. 2. While many works in the field are implicitly based on a characterisation of Greek religion as polis religion, the strengths and weaknesses of this model are rarely discussed. Exceptions (which will be discussed below) are the contributions of COLE (1994), BURKERT (1995), JAMESON (1997). In the field of Roman religion, however, the debate concerning the implications and the applicability of the polis model is much more advanced: see WOOLF (1997), BENDLIN (2000), p. 115-135, RÜPKE (2004), SCHEID (2005), p. 125-128. Interestingly, there is no separate entry on ‘polis religion’ in recent reference works, such as PRICE & KEARNS (2003); JONES (2005). 3. The French scholarly discourse attributes to the mediation of the city a more inclusive and constrictive role than the anglophone literature; in French scholarship “polis religion” is not necessarily and not always synonymous with “civic religion” or “religion of the polis”. By focusing on the arguably more closely formulated Anglophone model, I hope to cast light on the strengths and weaknesses of the model in its most succinct formulation. The anglophone formulations of “polis religion” (and indirectly my discussion of them) are hence grounded in a certain historiographical model of the city as a relatively closed and horizontally layered social system embracing the demos, phratries, etc. (more on this below). 4. SOURVINOU-INWOOD (2000a [1990]), SOURVINOU-INWOOD (2000b [1988]). 5. See SOURVINOU-INWOOD (2000a [1990]), p. 13.
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6. SOURVINOU-INWOOD (2000b [1988]), p. 47. 7. Hdt., VIII, 144, 2. See PARKER (1998), p. 10-11 for a discussion of this passage. 8. SOURVINOU-INWOOD (2000a [1990]), p. 20. 9. See in detail GOULD (2001 [1985]). See also BURKERT (1985), p. 119, BOWERSOCK (1990), p. 7, DE POLIGNAC (1991), p. 152. On Greek religion as a ‘language’ see also KINDT (2009). 10. The same kind of embeddedness is usually assumed in studies of Roman religion. Jörg Rüpke’s article Kult jenseits der Polisreligion [ RÜPKE (2004)] is based on a formalized and spatial definition of polis religion too simple to offer a persuasive account of religious practices that transcend the polis model. 11. The idea that single areas of social interaction are unavailable for conceptualization was perhaps most strongly propagated by Moses Finley, who argued that there was no such thing as the ancient Greek economy [FINLEY (1973)]. On the notion of “embeddedness” see also BREMMER (1994), p. 2-4, SCHEID (2005), p. 126 (in the field of Roman religion). 12. BURKERT (1995), p. 202. 13. BURKERT (1995), p. 202. DE POLIGNAC (1991), p. 78-79 emphasises that this should not be seen as a programmatic policy of the individual poleis. 14. SOURVINOU-INWOOD (2000a [1990]), p. 27. 15. SOURVINOU-INWOOD (2000a [1990]), p. 27-37, SOURVINOU-INWOOD (2000b (1988]), p. 38-44. A similar point is made by Jan Bremmer who states: ‘In ancient Greece, … religion was totally embedded in society – no sphere of life lacked a religious aspect.’ BREMMER (1994), p. 2. On the religion of the demes and other subunits of the polis see in detail JAMESON (1997). 16. On the economic side of oracle consultations see ROSENBERGER (1999). 17. On the Oracle of Zeus at Dodona see the still authoritative (but conceptually outdated) account by PARKE (1967). It is precisely those oracles that do not fit into the matrix of polis religion which have received relatively little scholarly attention. However, see recently E. LHÔTE, Les lamelles oraculaires de Dodone, Geneva, 2006. 18. BCH 80 (1956), p. 300; SEG 19 (1963), p. 149; LHÔTE (2006), p. 118-119, no. 48. See also PARKE (1967), p. 265. 19. CARPANOS (1878), p. 10 (Plate 36.1); PARKE (1967), p. 272; LHÔTE (2006), p. 249-250, no. 121. 20. This somewhat strange omission, in the light of the importance of religion in and for the polis, is put in context in his Metaphysics, which does have a god, but one that is removed from human interests and concerns. 21. On political power and religious symbols see KINDT (forthcoming 2009). 22. Geertz’s notion of religion is best formulated in GEERTZ (1966), reprinted in GEERTZ (1973). 23. See SOURVINOU-INWOOD (1991), (1995), (2003). 24. SOURVINOU-INWOOD (2000a [1990]), (2000b [1988]). 25. BURKERT (1995), p. 203. 26. GOULD (2001 [1985]), p. 7-8. See also JAMESON (1997), p. 184. 27. Structuralism allows for the constant generation of novel variants, arising against the background of earlier attempts that worked with the same symbolic constructs and structural patterns. See also Bendlin’s point that versatility of religious ritual should be seen not as a symptom of its decline but as a feature of its vigour: BENDLIN (2000), p. 119. 28. VERSNEL (1990), (1993). Versnel uses such inconsistencies and ambiguities principally as entry points to an alternative reading of religious phenomena, such as henocentrism and myth and ritual. 29. VEYNE (1988). 30. VEYNE (1988), p. 32. See also the critical discussion of Veyne’s position by BUXTON (1994), p. 155-158.
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31. See for example Jean and John Comaroff’s work: COMAROFF & COMAROFF (1991), (1997). See also the review section of the AHR 108/2 (April, 2003), p. 434-478 for a general assessment of the relevance of their work for cultural history more generally. 32. OBER (2005). 33. See the book with the same title in which Ober’s article appeared first: DOUGHERTY & KURKE (2003). 34. OBER (2005), p. 77-82. 35. SOURVINOU-INWOOD (2000a), (1990), p. 20. 36. The literature on this question is vast. The debate goes all the way back to James Frazer’s (now refuted) distinction between magic and religion as one of coercion and submission. Some of the more productive recent contributions to this debate can be found in FARAONE & OBBINK (1991), VERSNEL (1991), BREMMER (1999). A comprehensive introduction to ancient magic and the debates surrounding it can be found in GRAF (1997). 37. The literature on this and other aspects of Orphism is considerable. The old position that sees Orphism as a separate religious movement originated with ROHDE (1894) and was further advocated by GUTHRIE (1935) and NILSSON (1935) amongst others. This position was successfully refuted by LINFORTH (1941), ZUNTZ (1971), BURKERT (1977), p. 1-10. WEST (1983), p. 1 refers to it as the “pseudo-problem of the supposed Orphic religion”. The debate is nicely summarized by PARKER (1995), who advocates the cautious middle-position prevailing in current scholarship and who concludes that “the question about the unity of Orphism must be left unanswered.” (p. 487). 38. PARKER (1995), p. 487-496. 39. On the relationship between Orphic to Hesiodic theogony see GUTHRIE (1935), p. 83-84. See also EDMONDS (2004), p. 75-80 amongst others. 40. On the overlap between prayer and magic see GRAF (1991). 41. HALLIWELL (2005). 42. HALLIWELL (2005). 43. See PARKER (1995), p. 496. 44. See GRAF (1999), p. 1-2. 45. See for example EDMONDS (2004). 46. OSBORNE (1997). See also VERNANT (1990), HENRICHS (1990). 47. OSBORNE (1997), p. 115. 48. See for example SOURVINOU-INWOOD (1978). 49. BURKERT (1985), p. 152-156. See PIRONTI (2007) for a strong argument against the monolithic vision of Aphrodite as “goddess of love”. 50. BURKERT (1985), p. 155. 51. BURKERT (1985), p. 155. 52. See Burkert’s justification of this approach in BURKERT (1985), p. 8: “Would it not be correct to speak in the plural of Greek religions? Against this must be set the bond of common language and, from the eighth century onwards the common Homeric literature… in spite of an emphasis on local or sectarian peculiarities, the Greeks themselves regarded the various manifestations of their religious life as essentially compatible, as a diversity of practice in devotion to the same gods, within the framework of a single world.” 53. PRICE (1999), p. IX. 54. PRICE (1999), p. 11-46, see in particular p. 11-25. 55. PRICE (1999), p. 15. 56. PRICE (1999), p. 13. 57. PRICE (1999), p. 23-24. 58. See PARKER (1996), (2005).
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59. HANSEN & NIELSEN (2004). 60. In his original outline of the Centre’s aims and objectives, Hansen had explicitly stated that it was the Centre’s goal to give a secular rather than a religious account of the poleis (see HANSEN [1994], p. 13-14). Given that the Greeks made no strict differentiation between sacred and profane – at least not in the way in which this dichotomy is conceptualised in modern society, see BREMMER (1998), – this self-imposed limitation seems artificial. 61. These omissions reflect both publishing restrictions and the disagreement of its main editors with the claim, made by de Polignac and others, that religion (rather than politics) was at the centre of the polis. See HANSEN & NIELSEN (2004), p. 130-134. 62. DIGNAS (2002). 63. DE POLIGNAC (1991). A good collection of articles representing the major debates in the reception of de Polignac is in ALCOCK & OSBORNE (1994). 64. See for example BURKERT (1985), BRUIT ZAIDMAN & SCHMITT PANTEL (1992), BREMMER (1994). 65. See Sewell’s brilliant definition of synchronic analysis, which according to Sewell, rather than offering a series of snapshots, constructs its referent as a “uniform moment or epoch” in which “different times are present in a continuous moment.” SEWELL (1997), p. 40. 66. A good example is GRIFFITH (2005) who describes the elements of Hellenistic Religion but fails to ground them in a more comprehensive account of Greek religion of the Hellenistic period. An outline of the guiding principles of such an account can be found in GORDON (1972). Gordon introduces the term ‘selective continuity’ as a programmatic term for his nuanced discussion of Hellenistic religious beliefs and practices between continuity and change. See also the dualistic categories of ‘locative’ vs. ‘utopian’ cultures that Jonathan Z. Smith developed in order to differentiate Hellenistic from earlier styles of religion: see SMITH (1993), p. 88-3, p. 129-147. 67. Despite its strong chronological focus, MIKALSON (1998) provides a worthwhile case-study for Hellenistic Athens, paying particular attention to the balancing of the needs of the individual and society. A comprehensive study of Hellenistic religion, however, should integrate the evidence for Athens with that for other areas of the Hellenistic world, as the religious outlook of the time varied significantly and depended on factors such as geographical location and social class: see GORDON (1972). PAKKANEN (1996) offers a re-evaluation of four key concepts of Hellenistic religion (syncretism, the trend towards monotheism, individualism and cosmopolitanism) by investigating the mysteries of Demeter and the cult of Isis in early Hellenistic Athens. On select aspects of Hellenistic religion see also CORRINGTON (1986), SØRENSEN (1989), MENDELS (1998). 68. BRUIT ZAIDMAN & SCHMITT PANTEL (1992), PARKER (1996). 69. PARKER (1996). 70. PARKER (2005). 71. See William Sewell’s excellent observations on the relationship between synchronic and diachronic perspectives in the writing of social history. SEWELL (1997), in particular p. 39-42. 72. A good example of how diachronic change could fit into the religious landscape of Greece is characteristic of the work of another eminent scholar of Greek religion – Michael Jameson. He sketches a subtle and multi-facetted framework of religious innovation, thus giving a balanced account of continuity and change in Athenian religious practice during the transition from the Archaic to the Classical period (see for example JAMESON [1997]). 73. See for example JAMESON (1997), who focuses mainly on ritual and leaves out religious beliefs almost entirely. Thanks again to Jan Bremmer for pointing this out to me. 74. SOURVINOU-INWOOD (2000a [1990]), p. 37. 75. SCHMITT PANTEL (1992). 76. BEARD & NORTH (1990), GARLAND (1992). 77. BURKERT (1995), p. 205. 78. See for example DIORGANO-ZECHARYA (2005) with further bibliography.
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79. See for example MCINNERY (1999), p. 1-7, who argues that the focus on the polis has lead to the scholarly neglect of ethnic identity. 80. DE POLIGNAC (2009). See also the changes de Polignac made in the English edition of his work and in DE POLIGNAC (1995). 81. DE POLIGNAC (2009), 442. 82. See for example MORGAN (1994), (2003). 83. See MORGAN (2003). 84. MORGAN (2003), p. 135-155. 85. MORGAN (2003), p. 6. 86. See for example MAZARAKIS AINIAN (1985), (1988). 87. MAZARAKIS AINIAN (1997), p. 393. 88. See for example HALL (1997), MORGAN (2003), FREITAG, FUNKE & HAAKE (2006). 89. IG IX2 1, 3; 207. 90. See PARKER (1998), p. 27. Parker includes a special appendix, listing evidence for various religious practices among the ethne. 91. See PARKER (1997), p. 30, BUCK (1979), p. 88-90, SCHACHTER (1981), p. 117-127. 92. On this and other amphictionies see TAUSEND (1992), in particular p. 55-57. 93. To use an example from Roman religion: scholars working with the polis model would point out that the Bacchanalia scandal of 186 demonstrates the power of the polis (of Rome) to suppress religious activity that it perceived to be against its interests. This offers an explanation of the political dimension of this scandal. It does not, however, explain the appeal of this mystery religion to the individual believer both male and female. 94. See WOOLF (1997), p. 77-82.
ABSTRACTS
This article explores the scope and limits of the model of “polis religion” as one of the most powerful interpretative concepts in current scholarship in the field. It examines the notion of the ‘embeddedness’ of ancient Greek religion in the polis as well as the unity and diversity of Greek religious beliefs and practices, and discusses in how far the model is able to capture developments beyond the Classical period. The article looks at religious phenomena and forms of religious organization above and below the polis level. I argue that the strengths of the model lie in its capacity to explain an important structuring principle of ancient Greek religion. The weaknesses of the model are due to the fact that it is focused too narrowly on the polis as the primary discourse of power relevant for the study of ancient Greek religion.
Cet article étudie l’étendue et les limites du modèle de la polis religion dans la mesure où il s’agit d’un des concepts interprétatifs les plus forts de la recherche actuelle dans le domaine. Il s’agit de se pencher sur la notion d’embeddedness de la religion grecque ancienne à l’intérieur de la polis, de même que sur l’unité et la diversité des croyances et pratiques religieuses des Grecs. On discutera également de la pertinence du modèle pour appréhender les développements qui vont au-delà de la période classique. L’article prête attention aux phénomènes religieux et aux formes d’organisation religieuse qui excèdent le niveau de la cité. Je suggère que la force de ce modèle réside dans sa capacité à expliquer un important principe de structuration de la religion grecque
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ancienne. La faiblesse du modèle vient du fait qu’il se concentre trop étroitement sur la polis comme principal discours de pouvoir adapté à l’étude de la religion grecque ancienne.
AUTHOR
JULIA KINDT Department of Classics and Ancient History The University of Sydney [email protected]
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Divination, Royalty and Insecurity in Classical Sparta*
Anton Powell
Introduction
1 How far, if at all, were Sparta’s political decisions influenced by divination? The question leads us into numerous episodes within the classical period; it also challenges traditional scholarly method. Herodotos, Thucydides and Xenophon suggest clearly and often that religious prophecy formed part of Sparta’s motivation in political matters. Scholars for long tended to react evasively or delicately.1 Nowhere, perhaps, is there a published rationale for generally disbelieving what we are told on this subject by these ancient sources who are, for other aspects of Spartan history, properly treated as fundamental. The deservedly influential study of Spartan religion by Robert Parker (1989) collects, in its dense treasury of information, prima facie evidence that divination had the power to reverse the public undertakings of Spartan authorities: on several occasions Spartan military expeditions already under way were postponed or abandoned in the face of negative omens.2 Here, it may seem, is behaviour to compare with that of the Athenian- led troops in Sicily in 413 who, on Thucydides’ showing, because of divination about a lunar eclipse dropped their clamorous insistence on a prompt departure from Syracuse and instead urged their generals to remain.3
2 Yet, in the twenty years since the appearance of Parker’s work, scholarly opinion both on Spartan history and on Greek divination has changed considerably. It may be allowable now for an admirer of that work to challenge one aspect of it: namely, Parker’s response to the question how influential divination was among Spartans. That response may seem itself to have a somewhat Delphic quality. On the one hand, Parker implies disapproval of the way that ‘Almost every incident of a campaign abandoned or an attack postponed because of unpromising omens has received a rationalising explanation from one scholar or another’ (1989, 157f.). He writes that Spartans ‘heeded divine signs and obeyed the rules’ (1989, 161); ‘the power of prophecy’ (ibid.) among Spartans reflected a distinctive local attitude. On the other hand, he states that ‘Divination was doubtless under control in
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Sparta, as it normally is wherever it is practised’ (1989, 160). He notes with ironic disapproval that ‘The charm of divination for the consultant is that he need never feel that he is acting at random’ (ibid.). He himself rationalises about the apparent power of omens to affect military expeditions: ‘If, therefore, a plan or expedition was abandoned because of the lesser obstacle of discouraging sacrifices, the king must either have been unusually timorous, or have felt genuine doubt whether the proposed action was wise’ (1989, 159-60; emphasis added). He likens divination among Spartans to the economic forecasting of modern times: ‘Politicians believe profoundly in economic predictions; politicians are sometimes swayed by economic advice; politicians find ways of carrying through certain favoured policies whatever economic advisers may say.’ (160) Here, as ‘profound belief’ gives way to ‘sometimes swayed’, we are left in some doubt as to the practical force of economic, and thus divinatory, forecasts to affect decisions. Parker writes of modern historians as ‘embarrassed’ by ancient accounts of military divination (1989, 157). In seeking to negotiate the distance between those modern scholars incredulous of the sources and those who take them seriously or between, as Parker puts it, ‘scepticism of the sceptics… shown up as dogmatic’ and ‘something simplistic about the faith of the believers’ (1989, 158), a modern writer may well have recourse to irony and obscurity for reasons that an ancient diviner would have recognised.
For a diachronic approach
3 As members of a rationalist tradition of history, we may have learned to read our sources counter-religiously. Thus when we meet, in Thucydides, lists of those who, on Athens’ behalf, swore (not ‘signed’) treaties with Sparta, our eye may be tempted to move to the names of the generals and lay politicians, Lakhes and Nikias, Lamakhos, Demosthenes and the rest, while cognitively resisting the fact that at the head of the list, on two occasions, comes the seer Lampon (V, 19, 2; 24, 1). The present paper may even surprise, not only by the volume of surviving ancient references to religion in Sparta’s political and military affairs, but especially by the proportion which they form of our total information on those subjects. And, if we do become aware of the prominence of religion in our sources, even in Thucydides who – when writing of Athens – has rightly been judged parsimonious in his references to political divination,4 we may be tempted – in reaction – to re- emphasise that prophecy by playing down its apparently secular context, the context which caused religion to be neglected in the first place. But by abstracting religion in this way, we may reduce our ability to judge its role, its comparative importance, in the discourse of the polis. Parker has successfully studied Spartan religion in anthropological style: that is, organising material primarily by categories of behaviour which transcend chronology. However, a risk inherent in this approach is that it may encourage what has been called ‘the anthropological present tense’, and tend to hide developments within the culture studied. Such a risk would be particularly serious in the case of Sparta, a society which worked successfully to impose a false view of its own ‘unchanging’ character: an extreme case of such is the claim which Thucydides accepted (I, 18, 1), that Sparta had enjoyed the same constitution for ‘slightly more than 400 years’. Modern scholarship is increasingly convinced that Sparta did change profoundly, culturally as demographically, over the four centuries (6th-3rd BC) which provide most of our evidence for its religious belief and practice.5 Evidence for change in Spartan attitudes to particular authorities is well known. Most relevant here is the official eviction (or indeed killing) of several kings (or, in the case of Pausanias, of a regent), since the kings were believed at Sparta to be of
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divine descent6 and to have Delphic sanction for their authority. 7 They also had a pre- eminent position (as Parker well shows) in the conduct of religion8 and in particular in the procuring and controlling of oracular responses from the Delphic oracle.9 Now, because Spartan attitudes could change drastically towards the royal bearers and mediators of this form of religious authority, we should also enquire whether the credit of particular sources of divination, shrines and seers, might vary according to how events, and especially very recent events, seemed to confirm or refute their prophecies. And in trying to answer that question a chronological approach seems essential, if only as a complement to the anthropological method. A result of this diachronic method will be to cast unexpected new light on the stability – or otherwise – of the very institution of Spartan dyarchy.
Our evidence
4 The student of Spartan religion depends for much information on two very different sets of literary material. Pausanias, the antiquarian and travel-writer of the second century AD, gives invaluable detail from autopsy of physical evidence concerning earlier Spartan religious cult. This set of information, well deployed by Parker, is inevitably deficient in matters of historical context; Pausanias knows or tells little of the circumstances in which were created the various Lakonian buildings and statues to which he attests. Then there is our information on Spartan religious belief and practice contained in accounts from the classical period. Here are very different problems and possibilities. Much of what we hear about Sparta comes from narratives concerning an individual and offering a rare intensity of detail amid general darkness.10 The individual tends to be a Spartan leader (presented as dissident or, more rarely, hero), whose death provides a focus for moralising. Our picture of Spartan politics in the early fifth century is structured by stories of two egregious rulers and their bad deaths: king Kleomenes I and regent Pausanias. The narrative leading to the good death of king Leonidas, at Thermopylai, contains much of the information we have about the Persian invasion. The narrative of the downfall, persecution and death of the Athenian Themistokles is connected by Thucydides with the story of Pausanias’ decline and fall: against both men is cast the accusation of collusion with Persia. Themistokles, as Thucydides’ account makes clear, had moved from being intimately admired by the Spartans to being a principal enemy of their state. Although neither king Pleistoanax (first exiled then restored), nor king Agis II (threatened with an enormous fine and with the demolition of his house, clear signs of a projected exile11) came to a bad end, defamatory suspicions about both men provide a considerable part of our information on Spartan constitutional history later in the fifth century. For the start of the fourth century, the conspiracy of Kinadon as narrated by Xenophon provides a further cluster of revealing detail. And shortly after the death of Lysandros (395), information came to light – or was invented – of an elaborate plot which he had constructed to subvert the Spartan kingship in the interests of his own career; a detailed narrative survives in Diodorus and Plutarch, drawn from Ephorus: both plots, as recorded, involved divination. The tendency of Spartan history, as we and our literary sources construct it, to be shaped by narrative of problematic Spartan leaders is no less clear after the classical period. Following many decades for which we hear little, for the later third century we have from Plutarch (drawing, most probably, on Phylarkhos) lavishly-detailed Lives of the careers of two kings, Agis IV and Kleomenes III, both of whom undertook political and social revolution in Lakonia and came to picturesque ends.
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The first was (controversially) hanged at Sparta, the other is shown as nobly committing suicide after an attempt against overwhelming odds to subvert Ptolemaic rule in Alexandria. The death of the first, that is, recalls that of the regent Pausanias; in contrast, Kleomenes in Egypt recalls Leonidas at Thermopylai.12 After these dramatized episodes, and a last flourish of colourful detail concerning the ruler Nabis, Spartan history, for us, abruptly reverts for the most part to darkness.
5 These narrative episodes with their binary morality, their interest in death, their frequent insistence on the qualities of individuals and on the Spartan constitution, all seem likely to have derived their fundamental character from stories told at Sparta. Spartan pre- occupation with preserving (or, in the case of the two third-century kings, with restoring) the supposedly-traditional constitution seems to have generated a narrative pattern: those leaders whose pre-eminence or misbehaviour threatened the familiar order of the Similars, the homoioi, were in retrospect enduringly vilified, while those whose qualities promoted that regime were glowingly eulogized, in both cases with special attention to the circumstances of their deaths. Much of ‘Spartan history’, we must suspect, originated not as an abstract exercise in truth-telling but as a constitutional instrument.
6 Even the most recent and pertinent history, the true outlines of which would predictably emerge before long, could be falsified for the sake of Sparta’s well-being. Xenophon shows that Sparta’s resounding naval defeats at Arginousai (406) and Knidos (394) were initially and with conscious mendacity presented by Spartan commanders elsewhere as victories, through concern to protect the morale of their troops.13 The utterances of mendacious partisans are, however, very far from being historically valueless. We mistrust the points which Spartans allege with the greatest emphasis and colour, as for example that Kleomenes I was mad, Leonidas self-sacrificing from patriotism, Pausanias pro-Persian and Lysandros subversive. Here perhaps is the work of Spartans seeking to persuade other Spartans. What is likely to reflect the more general beliefs of Spartan society are the points which are implicit, those to which the assent of Spartans could be taken for granted and used to underpin the desired conclusion. Divination has this significant, implicit, role in several of the above-mentioned narratives. Implicitly, Leonidas was not acting against Spartan norms in voluntarily taking a small army to its destruction because he trusted a Delphic oracle. (Contrast the reaction that might be expected in our own times if it were shown that a commander in the Second World War had deployed forces in response to astrology.) The conspiracy of Kinadon was said to have been discovered by a mantis acting in his official capacity. Had there not been general respect for such inspired findings, the reference to divination might have induced doubt as to the reality of the affair, inherently obscure as it was. And so above all in the plot alleged against Lysandros; most of the machinations ascribed to the dead general involved the corrupt procuring of oracular sanction for the reform of the kingship. Even if the whole story was an invention of Lysandros’ enemies, we still have evidence of a general view among Spartans that statements believed to be from Delphoi and other shrines could be widely persuasive.
Herodotos, Delphoi and Tisamenos
7 Investigation of Spartan attitudes to divination may sensibly begin with local retrospect on the Persian Wars of 480-79. For Spartans, as for Athenians, the (ultimately) victorious campaigns of that period were used with hindsight for proud self-definition. The degree of transmitted detail about the anti-Persian campaigns is unsurprisingly great, as
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compared (for example) with the decades which preceded and followed. And we are readily on guard against patriotic distortions concerning a period in which any ugly failures were particularly likely to be glossed over or excluded from the record. The performance of divination might also be remembered with special interest. For Sparta, as for Athens, Herodotos tells of oracular utterance from Delphoi which drew the attention of military leaders: respectively, Leonidas and Themistokles. There are, however, interesting differences.
8 According to Herodotos, Delphoi had prophesied to Sparta with explicit ambiguity on the eve of the war (VII, 220): either the Spartans would lose a great and noble city, sacked by ‘men descended from Perseus’, or Sparta would mourn the death of a king of Heraclid descent, one whom even the strength of lions (λεόντων) could not hold. Herodotos also reports his belief that Leonidas at Thermopylai, reflecting on this oracle, sent away certain of his allies – and even ordered the army’s mantis to leave – so that Sparta might monopolise the glory of the coming defeat which the prophecy implied (and which the mantis, Megistias the Akarnanian, confirmed from sacrificial omens). He suggests, that is, that Leonidas believed the prophecy and its hint as to his own death. Scholars have argued against the historicity of this oracle, on the grounds that it fits too closely the actual outcome of events to be other than an ex eventu composition. The name of one of the Spartan kings (Leonidas) itself referred to a lion, and he in the event was killed by the Persians; the correspondence is too neat.14 The Delphic authorities could, of course, have been informed in advance by Spartans that Leonidas would be leader of an exceptionally dangerous campaign, and might have prophesied accordingly. Herodotos says that the prophecy was issued when Sparta consulted the shrine ‘about this war, right at its start’ (περὶ τοῦ πολέμου τούτου αὐτίκα κατ’ ἀρχὰs ἐγειρομένου); that is, probably too early for Leonidas’ role to be known. But precise chronology is commonly among the first elements to be lost in memory. What makes the prophecy particularly suspicious is the uncharacteristic risk of clear refutation that the oracle would have taken in making it: quite conceivably Sparta would survive unsacked, and Leonidas not be killed. The two outcomes covered too little; in this case the imputed Delphic ambiguity was too precise.
9 The prophecies which, according to Herodotos (VII, 139-43), were given to Athens by Delphoi make an instructive contrast. They clearly implied the destruction of the Athenian Akropolis, a less bold prediction, since Athens, north of the Isthmos, was more exposed to a Persian army, and the battle of Marathon had given the Persians a special reason for targeting the place vindictively. But more importantly, the oracle is vaguer as to the ‘wooden wall’ which alone would remain unravaged. Salamis was mentioned, suggesting here too that, if the prophecy was historical, consultation took place at a late stage. (Again, Herodotos located the consultation much earlier: VII, 145.) But if a naval battle at Salamis had failed, the oracle could protect its credit by claiming that it had meant ‘wooden wall’ to apply (for example) to flight by sea: the term was quite vague rather than ambiguous as between precise alternatives. In the case of the prophecies reportedly given to Athens, Herodotos has provided elaborately-detailed context: he tells of the striking circumstances of the consultation, and the desperate pressure applied by the Athenian envoys in the face of initial Delphic pessimism. He names the Pythia and one of the leading men of Delphoi who intervened in the matter: respectively, Aristonike and Timon son of Androboulos (VII, 140f.) – ‘Best-victory’ and ‘Honour son of Manly-counsel’, appropriate – indeed, well omened – names in the circumstances. And he describes the divergent interpretations which the prophecies received when reported to Athens, to ‘the
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demos’, and publicly discussed (VII, 142f.). Themistokles reportedly persuaded the Athenians, against the opinion of the (unofficial) oracle-specialists (khresmologoi), that the references to the ‘wooden wall’ and to Salamis pointed to a successful naval battle. Yet for the hardly less dramatic prophecy supposedly given to Sparta, itself clearer and provocative, there is no corresponding detail as to how the Spartan authorities reacted when it arrived.
10 To impose an utterly false record of public discussion of sensational material by the Athenian demos might be far harder than to create a false record in the case of Sparta. In accordance with their institutions and ethos, Spartans could explain how their oracle might have become known belatedly and without much detail. They might claim, for example, that the consultation of Delphoi had been performed by the Pythioi, the king’s men after all, and that the kings, into whose control the response duly came, had decided not to divulge its contents. Such would be in keeping with Leonidas’ noble motives, in going to his death with eyes open, as later believed; it would accord with the general Spartan practice of secrecy, observed by Thucydides (V, 68, 2), and with the manipulation of news in the interest of morale, as later described by Xenophon. Delphoi, which had reason to be pessimistic as the Persians approached, might afterwards happily concur with a false tale which credited the shrine with implicit advice on how the city of Sparta might be saved.
11 In the aftermath of the Persian Wars, the intelligence of Themistokles (σοφίηs δὲ καὶ δεξιοτήτοs: Hdt., VIII, 124) was initially revered by the Spartans. Herodotos and Athenian speakers at Sparta, reported by Thucydides, attest to his having been honoured by the Spartans more than any other foreigner (Hdt. l.c.; Thuc., Ι, 74, 1). From Herodotos we also hear, of the period just before the war, that the only non-Spartan whom (with his brother) the Spartans respected enough to make their fellow-citizen was a diviner, whose skills (as we shall see) the Spartans were exceptionally anxious to use as war approached. Since, as Herodotos would later present it, part of Themistokles’ mastery of affairs before the arrival of the Persians in Attike was to see and impose the correct interpretation of alarming Delphic prophecy in a military crisis, we might consider the possibility that part of the reason for his exceptional welcome at Sparta was his own cleverness in the matter of divination.15 It is possible that in the aftermath of the Persian Wars Delphoi and (for a while) Themistokles enjoyed at Sparta a record of having (respectively) issued and interpreted successful divination when it was most needed.
12 Herodotos, who says almost nothing on the circumstances in which the prophecy concerning Leonidas was uttered at Delphoi, gives much detail about how the Spartans acquired their leading mantis for the war (IX, 33-6). Tisamenos was an Elean of the Iamidai, a clan long esteemed for prophetic skill. Herodotos elsewhere (V, 44f.) tells of an Iamid prophet Kallias, who had been rewarded with lavish grants of land, and so presumably with citizenship also, by the state of Kroton in connection with a war of the late sixth century. Tisamenos was repeatedly invited by Sparta before Xerxes’ invasion to issue divination as Sparta’s agent; initially, according to Herodotos, the Spartans offered money but, as their fear grew great in the face of imminent Persian attack and they wanted him ‘terribly’ (δεινῶs), they agreed to Tisamenos’ demand that he and his brother be given Spartan citizenship. It is hard to overemphasize the significance of the details we possess on Tisamenos, as they bear on Spartan retrospective attitudes towards him and his craft in Herodotos’ time, the second half of the fifth century. The terms which Herodotos uses for Sparta’s original invitation may well seem extraordinary, for any state at any
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period: the Spartans wanted Tisamenos to become ‘director of their wars alongside the kings of Heraklid descent’ (ἅμα ῾Ηρακλειδέων τοῖσι βασιλεῦσι ἡγεμόνα τῶν πολέμων, IX, 33).16 The commentary of How and Wells (ad loc.) rightly reflects the gravity of this expression, but for that reason recoils from taking it at face-value: ‘This cannot mean that the seer was to share the actual command in war, for in comparison with this the grant of citizenship would be nothing. It seems to refer to the position of the kings as priests, since they offered sacrifice before all important undertakings (Xen.,L.P.,13). Tisamenus was to act with them in this.’ Herodotos’ picture is indeed remarkable: Sparta – that xenophobe state – wanted a foreigner, one who would advertise his lack of loyalty by negotiating stubbornly and at arm’s length with those inviting him, to impinge on the sovereignty of its revered hereditary authorities in matters of life and death for the community. At the root of this Spartan desire was, according to Herodotos, not merely the fact that Tisamenos was an Iamid but also the belief that Delphoi had prophesied that he would win five very great victories. Retrospectively, Tisamenos was thought to have achieved exactly that, in Sparta’s interest: the victories were, according to Herodotos, first at Plataia (against the Persians), then at Tegea against Tegeates and Argives, later at Dipaieis against most of the Arkadians, at Isthmos (Ithome?) against the Messenians, and finally at Tanagra against Athenians and Argives (IX, 35). We may see why Spartans could perhaps, with retrospect, unashamedly report that they had trusted profoundly from the start in Tisamenos’ competence. And the diviner’s record, as remembered, was such as to vindicate his craft for the future in Spartan eyes.
13 That Herodotos had information from a Spartan source on these matters is strongly suggested by internal details. The historian reports with emphasis that Tisamenos and his brother were the only foreigners ever (μοῦνοι δὲ δή) to have received Spartan citizenship. Of similar form, and similarly likely to be of Spartan origin, is Herodotos’ statement elsewhere that Themistokles was ‘the only (outsider) ever so far as we know’ (μοῦνον δὴ τοῦτον πάντων ἀνθρώπων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν) to have been sent on his way from Sparta with such honours (VIII, 124). Compare the report from the same historian concerning compaigns of the sixth century that the Spartans had ‘succeeded in all their other wars and had failed only (μούνουs) against the Tegeans’ (I, 65). Statements involving a large claim to historical knowledge, qualified by an admission of a rareexception to an alleged rule, occur with special frequency in Spartan contexts, so much so as to form something like a signature of origin. We think of Thucydides’ report that the Spartans were (by their standards) exceptionally hasty in considering severe action in the case of king Agis (V, 63, 2), or indeed of his statement about Sparta’s normal judicious slowness – in the context of the official killing of regent Pausanias (I, 132, 5; cf. Plut., Ages., 32). In connection with a report that Spartans on the battlefield (in 418) had become quite exceptionally disoriented by their standards, Thucydides signals his Spartan source explicitly: the event was unique ‘in the memory of the Spartans’ (μάλιστα δὴ Λακεδαιμόνιοι ἐς ὃ ἐμέμνηντο ἐν τούτῳ τῷ καιρῷ ἐξεπλάγησαν, V, 66, 1f.). In all these cases we detect one underlying element of apologia: Sparta was a consistently well-run and successful state, in keeping with its claim to have enjoyed the same constitution for centuries. There was homogeneity down the years, as there was among the citizenry, the homoioi, at any one time. Discordant events had to be clearly labelled as rare or unique. So no doubt with the ‘unique’ grant of citizenship to Tisamenos and his brother, one eminently in need of apology for a state where xenophobia, in the form of xenelasia, could be institutionalised.17 The apologia may have gone further. Pindar, in Ol.6 (27ff.), tells that Iamos, eponymous ancestor of the Elean clan of diviners to which Tisamenos belonged, was born of one
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Evadne who herself had been conceived and born at Sparta, in a union between Poseidon and another eponymous figure, Pitane. Evadne, having as a baby been smuggled from Lakonia to the banks of the Alpheios, was herself as a young woman involved in a second divine union. The composite tale manages to preserve the appropriate origin for the seer Iamos himself, fathered on Evadne by Apollo in or near Elis, with an added element which would have the effect of legitimating the Spartan citizenship of Tisamenos and his brother, as being themselves of Spartan origin.18 This ode is dated to 472 or 468; at l. 93-96 it mentions Hieron of Syracuse (obit 466) as still alive. It may thus testify indirectly to Spartan reverence of Tisamenos at a period decades earlier than the text of Herodotos. We shall see that relatives of Tisamenos were eminent diviners at Sparta long after the latter’s probable time of death; that too attests to the influence of the man in his lifetime.
14 Herodotos proceeds (ΙΧ, 36) to describe Tisamenos’ performance as diviner when the Spartans commanded at Plataia; he advised the defensive posture which the Greeks adopted. In this connection (ΙΧ, 37) the historian also gives detail about the leading diviner in the enemy camp, another Elean, by the name of Hegesistratos. Again, the account has a Spartan perspective. This Elean, we are told, had previously been caught and condemned to execution by the Spartans for the multiple forms of strange harm (πολλά τε καὶἀνάρσια) he had done them.19 He had, however, escaped his bonds by cutting off much of his own foot, ‘the bravest act of any we know, ἀνδρηϊώτατον ἔργον π άντων τῶν ἡμεῖs ἴδμεν’, says Herodotos. The Spartans went out looking for him ‘in full force’ (πανδημεί), and were amazed at the daring of the man (Herodotos’ admiration, then, matched that of the Spartans). Hegesistratos escaped to Tegea but ‘in the end his hatred of the Spartans did not profit him’; for he was caught by the Spartans while acting as mantis on Zakynthos and put to death by them. This story, implying inside knowledge of Sparta as well as a pro-Spartan moral, again seems to reflect belief by Spartan authorities in the formidable powers of an Elean diviner.
Omens and Oracles
15 It may help at this point to distinguish between the roles – in ancient minds and in our own – of omens and oracles. The two forms of divination were, of course, closely linked in antiquity: the case of Tisamenos shows that the Delphic oracle was supposed to have commended the future work of a mantis acting away from Delphoi, an interpreter of omens such as those which appeared in the form of animal livers. There was good reason for an oracular shrine not to contest the utility of sacrificial and other divination practised far from the shrine. For many purposes, a shrine could not offer the necessary service. Before a campaign, a state might have the time to consult a distant shrine on the grand question of war or peace, or on a general prospect – assuming that the shrine (or the land and sea giving access to it) were not at the time under enemy control. (When Sparta and Athens contested control of Delphoi in the early 440s, at issue was the right of each to precedence in consultation, promanteia, that is the right to consult quickly: Thuc., I, 111, 5; Plut., Peric., 21.) But at short notice, in the face of the enemy, there was usually no question of consulting Delphoi, let alone remote shrines such as those of Dodone or Zeus Ammon. Likewise in the matter of precise timing in a campaign – a key element in the thinking of Spartans in particular. Oracles could hardly pretend to regulate all such things.
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16 Now, in spite of the widespread reluctance of many scholars in earlier generations to engage with ancient testimony to the influence of divination, scholarly monographs were written on oracles: one thinks in particular of the calm and systematic studies by H.W. Parke. Modern cultures are familiar with textual prophecies, in books still held sacred. And metrical prophecies in ancient languages engage our professional competence; we like dealing with such fixed, well-wrought things.20 Historians have come more slowly to the study of ancient Greek omens, though there exists now the valuable study of Flower, The seer in ancient Greece (2008). For the modern preference of oracle over omen, a rationalisation is readily available: omens incur from the start insoluble problems of definition. Whether even eclipses were numinous events may well have been contested in the late fifth century.21 The point concerning definition is illustrated by an anecdote about a Spartan: when manteis claimed as an omen the discovery of a snake wrapped around a (large) key, he asserted that this was no omen, whereas if the key had wrapped itself around the snake, that would have been. 22 However, somewhat similar problems occur with oracular utterances. Not only are modern writers properly exercised by the question of which oracular predictions recorded from antiquity were in fact composed after the event; it is difficult to be sure whether any particular recorded oracular prophecy is genuine. The credit of oracular texts was qualified in antiquity by source- criticism, both subtle, as in Thucydides’ remark about the tendency for prophecies to be adjusted retrospectly to suit the supposedly prophesied event (II, 54, 3), and plain, as in Spartan (and Athenian) belief that on occasion corruption had occurred at the Delphic shrine.23 Theognis had written pointedly of the need for theoroi, official reporters of Delphic prophecy, to be utterly honest, neither adding to nor subtracting from the utterance of the shrine.24 When Tacitus wrote of mendaciopretium (Hist. IV, 81), reward for lying, he was thinking of reported omens in the Graeco-Roman world, but the phrase might apply to oracles too.
17 It is perhaps the public effects of recorded prophecies, rather than their origins, which form the more fruitful field of study, though the two cannot be dissociated. And, for this study of ancient reception, omens may well turn out to be the more important category. For, while oracles originated in circumstances which few witnessed, and so were generally open to question, the events which counted as omens were sometimes beyond question and indeed spectacular: eclipses, earthquakes, strange weather, plague are examples. Eclipses, indeed, are for us uniquely privileged among the events recorded by ancient writers, in that their reality and timing can be checked by modern physics.25 Thucydides, writing of a Delphic prophecy about Spartan victory in the Peloponnesian War, records it with some reservation, and describes its effect, early in that war, on ‘those [Athenians] who knew about it’ (II, 54, 4; cf. I, 118, 3; 123, 1f., and below, n. 30). There could, and can, be no such qualification concerning the awareness of Athenian-led troops in Sicily of the total lunar eclipse of 27th August 413.
18 Compare Herodotos’ account of divination at Athens concerning the Persian invasion. He explicitly gives more weight to an omen than to the Delphic oracle about flight, destruction and a wooden wall: explaining the evacuation of Athens, he writes (VIII, 41): ‘they [the Athenians] hurried… wishing to obey the [Delphic] prophecy but mainly for the following reason:…’. And he proceeds to tell of a report, originating with the priestess of Athena, that a large snake which normally lived in the shrine as guardian of the Akropolis, had disappeared; its usual meal of honey-cakes had been left untouched. This was taken by ‘the Athenians’ as a sign that Athena herself had abandoned the Akropolis.
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We recall the relative weight given in Herodotos’ account to the origins of the Delphic prophecy about the fates of Sparta and Leonidas as compared with his detail on the seer Tisamenos. Was the extent of this concentration on omens perhaps a peculiarity of the historian? Was he perhaps conducting a special defence of omens? Further comment which he makes on the affair of the sacred snake may suggest something very different. He seems to invite doubt as to the reality of the snake. Twice he uses λέγουσι, ‘they say’, of the Athenian belief in it; he also writes, ‘and moreover they put out sacrificial offerings to it every month as if it exists’ (ὡs ἐόντι). Contrast the assertiveness of a passage (the genuineness of which has been doubted) in which Herodotos defends oracles against disbelief: ‘I cannot deny that oracles are true… when I consider such as the following: [text of 8-line hexameter oracle]…When Bakis speaks so clearly on such matters neither do I dare myself to utter an argument challenging oracles nor do I accept such from others’ (VIII, 77). In explaining why Athenians might put more faith in an omen concerning an unseen snake than in a reported Delphic prophecy, one should remember an ancient pattern of source-criticism; the integrity of Delphoi was open to challenge,26 whereas the report about the snake came from a priestess of Athena, a local official whose goodwill and honesty were far harder to doubt.
19 Spartan practice in the matter of taking sacrificial omens seems to have evolved in a spirit of source-criticism, to minimise the chance of fraud or of wishful perception. Of Xenophon’s time, a century after the Persian invasions of Greece, we read that when a Spartan king sacrifices in connection with a campaign, the following are in attendance ‘around the sacrifice’ (περὶ τὴν θυσίαν): … polemarchs, lokhagoi, pentekonteres, leaders of allied mercenary contingents, commanders of the baggage train, and anyone who wishes (ὁ βουλόμενοs) of the generals of the (allied)cities. Two of the ephors are also present; they do not act in any interventionist way(πολυπραγμονοῦσι μὲν οὐδέν), unless the king invites them. But their presence, watching whateach person does, keeps everyone in order, as one would expect. And when the sacrifice iscompleted, the king summons everyone and gives out the commands. If you saw all this, you would think that in military matters all other peoples were mere improvisers, while the Spartans alone were true military specialists (Lak.Pol., 13, 4f.).
20 This picture of Spartan practice is highly revealing, but it too must be treated critically, with a view to its author’s context and intentions. In the first place, Xenophon may have been writing in conscious defence of the king for whom he composed a formal eulogy (the Agesilaos). Agesilaos (king from 400 to 360) was for decades the most powerful individual at Sparta, and thus was eminently exposed to criticism in that officially levelling culture. Elsewhere in our present text, the Lak. Pol., Xenophon insists on the claim that at Sparta, unlike other Greek cities, the ‘most powerful’ (i.e. the hereditary rich) act with proper deference towards the officers appointed by the city (VIII, 2). Plutarch in his Agesilaos (ch. 4) represents that king as eagerly hurrying to obey the ephors, or rising to his feet in deference to them. Such statements of ideal implicitly suggest a criticism: the power of Agesilaos meant that he might have disobeyed if he wished, perhaps indeed that he did on occasion allegedly overstep the mark. Similarly with the ephors: they did not act at sacrifices in interventionist fashion. The verb used here, πολυπραγμονεῖν, is noteworthy. In Xenophon’s day it was pungently pejorative: πολυπραγμοσύνη had been, for many, a besetting fault of the Athenian demokratia and its empire.27 Here Xenophon, in stating that the ephors did not impinge upon the king’s prerogative, reveals with his lively word a lively concern. Xenophon’s text has, then, an idealising insistence on institutional balance: a king’s power over divination was limited by that of ephors and others, while
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the ephors themselves duly respected the king’s prerogative. Whether matters were in reality quite so well adjusted we may doubt. But Xenophon’s elaborate description does imply that suspicion directed against royal misuse of divination was great enough to engender elaborate countermeasures in the form of observation by numerous officers of state.
21 Commenting on the present passage of Xenophon, Parker writes: … insistent though Xenophon is that this is a truly public examination of entrails, there is no doubt that the dominant figure at the ceremony is the king. In this passage Xenophon simply fails to mention the professional seer who must have provided the formal interpretation of the sacrifice. The rite was in theory public and objective, in practice under the close supervision of the king… the whole conduct of the ceremony lessened the likelihood of serious conflict between human and divine will (1989, p.157).
22 This argument is important for the rationalising element in Parker’s work. It may, however, be challenged, not least in respect of the omitted seer.28 Xenophon was not writing in an anthropological spirit. His Lak. Pol. has as its advertised aim to explain the uniqueness of Sparta’s success (I, 1), and is accordingly structured around points of contrast between Sparta and other Greek states. Two instances of such have already been noted: the Spartans as uniquely specialised in war, and their kings as unusually obedient to other officials, as compared with (rich) Greeks elsewhere. There are many other references in the work to such supposed differences.29 Indeed the treatise opens with the claim that the Spartan lawgiver, Lykourgos, proceeded ‘not by imitating the other city- states but by having opposite ideas to most of them’ (I, 2). If, therefore, Sparta resembled other city states in allowing a mantis adominant role at sacrifices, that would not have advanced Xenophon’s main thesis and might for that reason have been passed over without comment, as being banal and readily inferred. It is possible that the relations of seer and dyarch were not always what secularising modern scholars may assume them to have been. And in particular one may suspect that the influence of a Spartan king in prophetic matters was not the same in the early fifth century as it was a century later, during the long ascendancy of Agesilaos. In any case, the above-quoted passage of Xenophon implies that the interpretation of sacrificial entrails might be contested in the early fourth century, as between king, ephors and others. The very possibility of such contest might give to the mantis a certain influence, a chance to manoeuvre as between the different parties.
Divination and the Spartan constitution
23 Measurements conducted in fairly recent times (on the British population during the Second World War)30 bear out remarkably the suggestion made by an Athenian speaker in Thucydides,31 and amplified by the latter’s narrative, that the influence of divination (or, in the modern case, of astrology) is greatest when secular arguments yield least security. Compare Herodotos on the way great fear of the Persian invasion impelled Sparta to employ Tisamenos. In crises, arguments from the supernatural may supply hope when other calculations tend to pessimism.32 Behind Sparta’s insistent claims to have a stable constitution (cf. Xen., Lak. Pol., 15, 1 on the kingship) lay nervousness. Fear for the Spartan constitution is itself particularly evident at times of military crisis. In the late 420s, when Thucydides shows the Spartan authorities in a state of near-panic over their military setbacks (IV, 55, 3f.), Sparta disfranchised some 120 of her own citizen-warriors, many of
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them of leading families, merely as a precaution (V, 15, 1; 34, 2). It was evidently feared that these men, who had allowed themselves to be taken prisoner at Sphakteria in breach of what we may call the ‘ethic of Thermopylai’, might react to the moral cloud hanging over them (and thus to their own reduced prospects of social advancement at Sparta) by contriving a revolution. It might well also have been wondered whether some of these men, who had spent several years under Athenian control as prisoners, might (to use Greek idiom) be ‘thinking Athenian thoughts’: that is, might be inclined to compound with the enemy. Half a century later, when Sparta, having lost her hegemony and much of her citizen army at Leuktra, was facing an unprecedented invasion of her home villages by the victorious Theban-led army, we hear that the Spartan authorities led by Agesilaos turned on and killed a sizeable group of Spartiates believed to be planning revolution.33 In this crisis, too, it would be rational to fear that some might prefer to deal with the ascendant enemy by negotiation, even if treasonable, rather than by warfare. We might well ask, accordingly, how confident Spartans were in their own constitutional solidity, in the competence and loyalty of their own leaders, in the crisis posed by the Persian invasion of 480 – especially if there were divisions on policy. And if there were good reasons to be fearful on this score, divination might have its role to play in the constitutional as well as the military area.
24 The years around 480 were, for the standing of the Spartan kingship, deeply – but not exceptionally – unstable. The most memorable of recent dyarchs, Kleomenes, had come to a violent end at Sparta (490), after a period of exile in which he is recorded as having organised anti-Spartan moves among the Arkadians (Hdt., VI, 74). Whether or not he died by suicide, as seemingly in the official account (colourfully detailed: Hdt., VI, 75), the enmity of other leading Spartans towards him is clear.34 Damaratos, the dyarch whose ejection Kleomenes had earlier secured with the aid of Delphic divination (Hdt., VI, 66), had gone over to the Persians, and is recorded by Herodotos as having accompanied them on their invasion (e.g. VII, 101). He had been keenly pursued across Greece at the beginning of his exile, in a way which may suggest that the Spartan authorities planned to kill him (Hdt., VI, 70): subsequently other exiled kings, Pleistoanax and (in the early fourth century) Pausanias, are recorded as living in sanctuary, in an attempt to use Sparta’s religious inhibitions to restrain the state’s possibly lethal intentions. In the aftermath of the Persian invasion, Damaratos’ successor, king Leotykhidas, victorious commander at the battle of Mykale, was exiled for taking a bribe in the enemy, Thessalian, interest (Hdt., VI, 72). Earlier in his eventful life he had been handed over, by a Spartan court, to the control of his enemies the authorities of Aigina (Hdt., VI, 85). And the regent Pausanias, victor at Plataia, would be brought to his death by the Spartan authorities, accused of plotting with Persia and for a revolution involving Sparta’s helots (Thuc., Ι, 95, 128-34). It is hard to imagine evidence of greater suspicion towards Sparta’s hereditary dyarchs – short of actual overthrow of the institution.
25 If we believe that Sparta’s transition to an austere constitution was at this period still quite recent, as has been suggested by Lakonian vase-painting of the mid-sixth century with its scenes of luxury and social division, we should perhaps also wonder whether the rough treatment of the dyarchs around 480 was not a case of revolution manquée.35 The dyarchs did not fit the austere system. They were an anomaly among the homoioi. Their position would inevitably recall the ancien régime. Their heirs-apparent seemingly did not participate in the homogenising Spartan education.36 A noteworthy quality of classical Sparta, perhaps the most important one for explaining Sparta’s success under its austere
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regime, was specialism. We recall Xenophon’s words about the Spartans as the only true military specialists, or his description of the martial images produced under Agesilaos at Ephesos as resembling a ‘workshop of war’.37 Some Spartan homoioi had a further specialism, passed from father to son, as heralds, aulos-players or cook-sacrificers.38 Yet here too the dyarchs compared awkwardly. Excluded as they might be from the militaristic education system, they were nonetheless Sparta’s senior generals. As members of the gerousia they had an enduring role in civilian politics. And then there was their control over military sacrifices and aspects of Delphic prophecy. Aristotle would describe the dyarchs as hereditary generals (Pol., 1285b). We might wonder whether many Spartans might rather see them as hereditary generalists, and in this way too might resent them as misfits under the austere system. Such thoughts perhaps allow us better to evaluate Herodotos’ striking words on the Spartans’ reasons for seeking out the Iamid diviner Tisamenos: that they wanted him to be ‘director of their wars alongside the kings of Heraklid descent’. Not only is this (as Herodotos makes clear) a case of recourse to divination in a military crisis. It also shows Spartans seeking to deal with the frighteningly anomalous, generalist dyarchs by bringing in a specialist. Elis was clearly famed for its diviners; the case of the Elean seer Hegesistratos, dreaded at Sparta around the time of the Persian invasion, makes the point, perversely but clearly. And the Iamidai, to which Tisamenos belonged, followed a family tradition of specialism39 like Sparta’s own specialist heralds, aulos-players and cook-sacrificers. Tisamenos’ Elean origins were indeed in marked tension with Sparta’s general mistrust of outsiders. But his specialism chimed exactly with the Lakonian austere system.
26 It may be worth speculating briefly about how the then dyarchs Leotykhidas and Leonidas might have reacted to Tisamenos’ appointment. On the face of it, they might be expected to oppose the sharing of their military authority (as Herodotos describes it) with this newcomer. Whether these kings were temperamentally such as to welcome guidance in the coming exceptional danger we cannot guess. But each might have understood, following the royal careers of Damaratos and Kleomenes, that other Spartan authorities might doubt their integrity. King Leotykhidas had already received an unforgettable lesson in the matter, when handed over to the control of the Aiginetans, whom he had offended (Hdt., VI, 85). On the eve of Xerxes’ invasion it might indeed be politic for royalty to give way, rather in the spirit of the legendary Spartan king Theopompos who supposedly had acquiesced in the foundation of the ephorate, limiting the dyarchy in order to preserve it (Ar., Pol., 1313a). And if royalty in 480 felt pain at making concession to non-royal authorities at Sparta, it might even be, for reasons familiar in arbitration, that Tisamenos’ status as outsider reduced the pain; he at least was not one of those Spartans who had in recent times acted severely against Damaratos, Kleomenes or Leotykhidas.
Earthquake and helot revolt
27 In (or near) 465/4 the Spartans were struck by what Thucydides was to describe simply as ‘the great earthquake’ (I, 128, 1). He gives (ibid.) the reason why the earthquake occurred, ‘as they [the Spartans] think’; the present tense is noteworthy. It happened ‘to them’ (σφί σιν αὐτοῖς) because the Spartans had removed helot suppliants from the shrine of Poseidon and killed them. It was, for Thucydides’ Greek readership, unnecessary to explain that Poseidon was the god of earthquake.
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28 This event, long remembered as we see, involved for Sparta two intimate disasters. Later accounts stressed the damage in the vital area of citizen numbers.40 And there was a widespread revolt of the Messenian helots, in accordance with the principle later formulated by Aristotle, that the helots ‘lie in wait, as it were, for disasters’ affecting the Spartans (Thuc., I, 101, 2 – 103, 3; Ar., Pol., 1269a). Here was opportunity for unusually persuasive divination: an event had occurred of a kind traditionally seen as numinous,41 and a plausible explanation was available for it: a sin against the relevant god committed by the community which especially suffered from the supernatural event.
29 Comparable is the Athenians’ reaction when unseasonal (as they thought) weather afflicted their retreat from Syracuse: they thought that ‘this too’ (in addition to the lunar eclipse – and much else) had been sent to destroy them (Thuc., VII, 79, 3). And here too there was a supposed sin available to explain the divine hostility. Nikias in 413 is reported by Thucydides as suggesting to his demoralised men that Athens’ action in attacking Syracuse might indeed have attracted divine punishment (though he argued that any such punishment was likely already to have reached its limit: Thuc., VII, 77, 1-3). In both cases, the Spartan and the Athenian, there had not of course been faith in the generalisation “such-actions-as-this-are-unholy-and-will-be-heavily-punished-by- divinity” sufficient to deter the relevant action in the first place. But, in both cases, the religious interpretation would be made plausible in retrospect by a set of unusual events pointing in the one direction. The earthquake was rare in its severity, witness Thucydides’ phrase ‘the great earthquake’. Similarly he would describe the fate of the vast Athenian expedition against Syracuse as unique in its scale and thoroughness (VII, 87, 5f.). And in each case the human agents who inflicted much of the supposed punishment were clearly in a sense the same people as had been the victims of the original supposed offence. It was Syracuse which had crushed the Athenian fleet and was realistically expected to crush in turn the land force. And, in Sparta’s case, the helot revolt ultimately proved incapable of suppression.
30 Thucydides does not say that Sparta immediately after the earthquake accepted that the killing of the suppliants had caused it. His use of the present tense applies to Spartan belief in his own day and no doubt during some earlier period which he does not specify. Tisamenos, we recall, was credited with helping to produce a great victory for the Spartans against the Messenians at ‘Isthmos’ (or perhaps ‘Ithome’). In any case, the position which Herodotos assigns to this victory, in his chronologically-ordered list, is somewhere between the battles of Plataia (479) and of Tanagra (458 or 457); the timing is thus appropriate for the Messenian revolt which followed the great earthquake. Now, even if Spartans had, shortly after the earthquake, reflected on their own possible responsibility for it, a mighty victory over the Messenians, such as Herodotos records, would have severely interfered with any such religious interpretation. But helping to establish the religious interpretation as Spartan orthodoxy was the success of the Messenians in holding out against the Spartans for many years on Mount Ithome. In explaining why the Spartans, after this long war, let the rebel Messenians go, Thucydides records that ‘the Lakedaimonians had had in their possession for some time (πρὸ τοῦ), an oracle from the Pythia saying to let go the suppliant of Zeus of Ithome’ (Ι, 103, 2). Here the indication of when this oracle supposedly was issued is of great significance. Sparta evidently could not claim that it had been issued at the time when the helots were in fact released. Accordingly the possibility of fraud should arise in our minds; it would also probably occur to some of the Spartans themselves, to those, that is, who were not privy
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to any manipulation. In mentioning not the issuing of the oracle but the possession of it, Thucydides’ description should make us think of the dyarchs’ store of Delphic prophecies. The reference to releasing a suppliant of Zeus corresponded nicely with the supposed offence of killing suppliants, those of Poseidon, his brother: the oracle showed the Spartans how to restore relations with divinity by symbolically reversing their behaviour.
31 The diplomatic utility of this alleged oracle is obvious. It minimised the loss of face on the part of the Spartan state, which now could claim that the (unforgettable) concession to the rebels was not the result of weakness. The worst precedent had not been set. Any helots thinking of revolt in the future could not rely on the thought that predecessors in that role had been invincible. The supposed oracle about Ithome appears to resemble that concerning the Persian invasion and Leonidas: it both significantly lacks a detailed origin and helped to pass off in retrospect a Spartan military defeat as divinely ordained, indeed as an act of virtue. During this episode, firmer religious convictions in the Spartans probably arose from publicly-known events imputable to divinity, the earthquake and consequent revolt. Interpreting such would appropriately be the work of a mantis on the spot. Interestingly, Pausanias the Periegete would write, centuries later, that the Spartans took their decision to release the helots ‘obeying Tisamenos and the oracle at Delphoi’ (III, 11, 8). We notice that he mentions Tisamenos before Delphoi, something that he is unlikely to have done inadvertently. If Tisamenos, with his revered record of advice about earlier victories, had effectively urged the Spartans not to press for outright victory this time, his words were likely to be taken very seriously. On this occasion, indeed, his prophecy might be an easy one: not only would he very likely know what the Spartans wished him to say, but his forecast, rather than being refutable by events, was quite likely to be self-fulfilling.
Thucydides, Delphoi and the credit of kings
32 At the start of the Peloponnesian War, religious considerations were promising for Sparta. The oracle at Delphoi had this time almost certainly been consulted; Thucydides places the consultation between Sparta’s decision in principle for war and the outbreak of hostilities. The god of Delphoi had responded that victory would come to the Spartans if they fought to the best of their ability (κατὰ κράτοs), and that he himself would help them whether called upon or not.42 The text which Thucydides guardedly reports is highly plausible, if only as an example of prophetic art. The first element of this prophecy realistically insured Delphoi against public refutation by events. If Sparta did not win, Sparta’s own defects could persuasively be blamed. The reference to Sparta’s capacities, κράτοs, would appeal to Spartan vanity. Indeed, the first element of the prophecy matched the standard psychology of defeat. Losers blame their own defects more commonly than they point to enemy virtues. Such is more in keeping with renascent optimism. One can hope to alter one’s own performance more readily than that of an enemy. The second element, concerning Apollo’s own partisanship (he needed no invitation to smite Athens), is itself realistic in the circumstances. Whereas Sparta in the early 440s had intervened militarily to restore control of Delphoi to native authorities, Athens had mounted an intervention of its own shortly afterwards to put the shrine back under the control of its then ally Phokis.43 So Thucydides records (I, 112, 5), with the brevity which he characteristically applies to notices of religion at work in politics.44 Following Athens’ definitive loss of power in Central Greece shortly afterwards, through
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the battle of Koroneia (447 or 446), it is virtually certain that the oracle was by 431 firmly under the control of native Delphians with an interest in favouring Sparta over Athens.
33 Early in the Peloponnesian War the credit of the Delphic oracle must have been high at Sparta. For plague ravaged Athens, twice, destroying a large minority of the population. Thucydides observes that the plague, so spectacularly contagious among the Athenians (it spread to the Athenian force besieging distant Poteidaia and ravaged that too: II, 58), barely affected the Peloponnese. He makes this observation in the context of Athenian concern that the plague was divinely sent, in accordance with the Delphic prophecy. Writing of ‘those [Athenians] who knew of the Spartans’ prophecy’, he states: ‘they thought that events were closely matching the prophecy: the plague had started as soon as the Peloponnesians had invaded [Attike], and while it had not affected the Peloponnese to any significant extent, its worst effects had been in Athens…’ (II, 54, 4-5). The plague would readily be seen as Apollo’s work for a reason which, for a Greek readership, Thucydides had no need to make explicit. Apollo was traditionally seen as the sender of disease: the Iliad had memorably opened with the god in that role (I, 43ff.). Thucydides reports Perikles himself, when explaining near the end of his life why some Athenians ‘hated’ him, as referring to the plague and suggesting that it was something sent by divinity: δαιμόνιον(II, 64, 2). If Athenians accepted the depressing thought that the god was against them and with Sparta, we should reckon that the same considerations which brought the Athenians to that view would impress Spartans above all. A distinguishing element of their culture was its resistance to wishful thinking in the identification of military opportunities.45 But even they were subject to mood-swings, as we shall now see.
34 As the Archidamian War lengthened, Spartan hopes declined. Athenian commanders were consistent, Perikles and his successors alike, in denying to Sparta the full-scale land battle which would have played to her strength. Regular invasions of Attike and destruction of crops had not brought Athens to her knees. Sparta’s essays at naval power had failed, and with the capture of some 120 Spartan citizens on Sphakteria in 425 the Athenians acquired hostages of high status. Fear for their fate precluded further assaults on Attike. Sparta’s military reputation abroad, on which depended her capacity to attract and mobilise allies, was damaged by the suspicion that the Spartans had ‘gone soft’ (μαλακίαν, Thuc., V, 75, 3). As Athens seized Kythera, the large and strategic island off southern Lakonia, Sparta had cause to fear a helot uprising. Thucydides reports, in summary and in detail, that Sparta came close to panic. To recover the citizen-prisoners, repeated and unsuccessful offers were made to Athens to end the war. In the process of demoralisation, religious prophecy was again involved. The Delphic prophecy about the war might now seem to fit events even more convincingly than it had when the plague hit Athens. For Apollo had also suggested that, if Sparta did not fight its best, the war might (or would) not be won. And here was a plausible case of decline in standards, the group surrender on Sphakteria, which was making necessary an implicit diplomatic admission that the war had not been won.
35 It may be possible to trace in Thucydides signs of acute Spartan dependence on Delphoi in this period, the 420s. Another Spartan king, expelled long before in circumstances of extreme prejudice, became awkwardly relevant once more. King Pleistoanax, who had led an invasion of Attike in 446 which did not lead to victory, or indeed to battle, had then been exiled on a charge of bribery (Thuc., V, 16, 3). That the charge was realistic, that it might have convinced and incensed numerous Spartans, is suggested not just by information from the Athenian side of unspecified special expenditure in this connection,
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46 but by Thucydides’ report that in exile Pleistoanax, surely well informed, felt it wise to live in a building which lay partly within a religious sanctuary, the shrine of Zeus at Mount Lykaion in Arkadia – ‘for fear of the Spartans’. He evidently reckoned that his mere exile would not satisfy all, that he might be mercilessly pursued abroad as his predecessor Damaratos had been, but that as a suppliant of Zeus he might be protected from Spartan wrath for the same religious reason that Sparta had invoked in the 450s for not killing the helots of Mount Ithome, themselves ‘suppliants of Zeus’. Now ‘in the 19th year’ of his exile (427 or thereabouts) Pleistoanax was allowed to return to Sparta, and was accorded extreme and public evidence that his status there would thenceforward be of the highest. His return was to be greeted with ‘the same choruses and sacrifices as when they first established the kings at the foundation of Lakedaimon’ (V, 16, 3). Thucydides’ phrase implies that he was trusting a Spartan source; grammatically, the construction reflects reported speech, part of the narrative constructed against Pleistoanax by his Spartan opponents. Who but Spartans would be thought to know about such remote details of internal Spartan history? How characteristic it was of Spartans to stress the continuity of Lacedaemonian history over a vast period! Pleistoanax would be no mere figurehead. Thucydides sees his disposition for peace as a main reason for Sparta’s détente with Athens in 421 (V, 16-17, 1; cf. V, 33, 1; 75, 1 for his subsequent military commands). Now, to restore to a position at the head of the state a man who had much reason to be vengeful towards those who had driven him into exile, in such humiliating and frightening circumstances and for so long, clearly threatened stasis. And Sparta, as her whole history shows, was by Greek standards exceptionally – even though not consistently – anxious to avoid civil strife. The restored Pleistoanax would have enemies at Sparta, as Thucydides shows (ἐχθρῶν, ἐχθροῖς: V, 16, 1; 17, 1). So why did the Spartans now think it necessary to take the risk of restoring this tainted man?
36 Thucydides mentions only one reason, and it concerns religion. The Delphic oracle had told the Spartans to ‘bring back the seed of the semi-divine son of Zeus from the foreign land to his own. Otherwise they would plough with a silver ploughshare’. The descendant of Zeus in question would be taken to be the exiled king (the two royal families claimed, like certain other Spartans, descent from Herakles, the demigod son of Zeus), and the point about a silver ploughshare presumably meant to act wastefully or in vain. The softness of the metal might have been meant to allude not only to inefficient ploughing but to military ineffectiveness, ‘softness’ as μαλακία. Thucydides’ words in reporting this Delphic instruction are … ‘he [Pleistoanax] and his brother Aristokles had induced the prophetess at Delphoi, so they [Pleistoanax’ enemies] claimed, to respond over a long period (ἐπὶ πολύ;cf.χρόνῳat V, 16, 3) to the official Spartan consultants who arrived that they should bring back the seed etc.’ (V, 16, 2).47 In Thucydides’ brief phrase ἐπὶ πολύ may lie a measure of the Spartans’ dependence on Delphoi at this period. Again and again they consulted the shrine.48 If, as seems quite likely, the consultations in question belong to the years immediately preceding the actual restoration, one could readily explain why Delphic disapproval, or non-co-operation, might matter so much to Spartans as to persuade them to restore the troublesome exile. The Delphic god in the period 430-27 would be thought prescient and powerful; he had foretold and carried out his own intervention in the form of the plague, but he knew about another condition which was needed for Spartan victory. By doing what did Sparta have to show that she was fighting ‘according to her might’? One can readily imagine Sparta thinking it worth pressing Delphoi on this subject, and taking very seriously the condition about restoring Pleistoanax.
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37 After the restoration was effected, things continued to go wrong for Sparta. Indeed, matters after 425 went far worse. According to Thucydides (still reporting the accusations of Pleistoanax’ enemies), ‘Pleistoanax was maliciously accused by his enemies in connection with his restoration; whenever the Spartans failed in anything, those enemies regularly (αἰεί) held him up to the Spartans as the person responsible: according to them, things were going wrong because his restoration had been procured by illicit means.’ And there follows the accusation about suborning the Pythia. The exiled king, that is, had employed an oracle in his own defence. The Spartan authorities had accepted it in part, at least, because of the credit the oracle had acquired from its apparent link with a numinous event, the plague. And now against the king, and indeed against the credit of the Delphic priestess, the king’s enemies were invoking other events interpreted as divinely-sent, namely Sparta’s failures in the war. Again we notice in Thucydides a subtle indication of the frequency of this divination: it happened ‘regularly’, ‘whenever’ there was a setback. Spartans were clearly impressed by this set of accusations. According to Thucydides, it was to get rid of the criticism that Pleistoanax sought a period of peace. In peacetime there was less reason to expect disasters that enemies could exploit politically against himself (V, 17, 1).
38 Spartan consistency in interpreting setbacks as divine punishment emerges from a further passage of Thucydides. At VII, 18, 2-3 he describes the Spartans’ attitude in 414/3 as they prepared to recommence invasion of Attike. They contrasted the present situation, in which Athens seemed to have been the first to break the treaty, with the beginning of the Archidamian War. Then it had been they, the Spartans, who rejected arbitration. This, as they saw it in retrospect, had been a formal offence (παρανόμημα, used twice) of their own, their own fault (σφίσι … ἡρμάρτητο). They had been the more blameworthy: the outbreak of war had proceeded from their side. Whereas it had been stipulated in the treaty then applying that there should be no fighting if one side were willing to submit to arbitration, they had not heeded Athens’ call for such. For these reasons they now thought that their ill fortune had been predictable (εἰκότως δυστυχεῖν … ἐνόμιζον) and they took to heart the disaster at Pylos and every other setback they had suffered. The word which Thucydides here uses for ‘took to heart’, ἐνεθυμοῦντο, is cognate with the term ἐνθυμίαwhich the historian uses when describing the link repeatedly made by Pleistoanax’ enemies between the alleged illicit action (παρανομηθεῖ σαν) of the king towards the Delphic oracle and the setbacks suffered by Sparta. When in Sicily, later in 413, it was the Athenians’ turn to do pessimistic divination in a climate of guilt, Thucydides’ phrase is ἐνθύμιον ποιούμενοι (VII, 50, 4).
39 The Spartans’ idea that they had been wrong to embark without arbitration on war against Athens in 431 raises a question about the credit of the Delphic prophecy issued at that time. How could the morality of the war be doubted if Apollo himself had been so emphatically belligerent on the Spartans’ side? How could the god have, albeit conditionally, predicted Spartan victory (above, n. 42) if Sparta’s faults were going predictably (εἰκότως) to lead to a bad outcome? We might observe first that divinatory thinking is no more likely to be free of confusion than is thinking along purely secular lines. Thoughtful divination might remember the divisions between the gods in the Iliad: plague-sending Apollo had then supported the side which lost, the side which did not evidently have right on its side. Divisions between Apollo and his father Zeus were still conceivable; though when, after the Peloponnesian War, a Spartan king asked Delphoi whether Apollo was in agreement with a divinatory response already issued by ‘his father’
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Zeus at Olympia (Xen., Hell. IV, 7, 2; Ar., Rhet., 1398b), his purpose was probably to apply pressure, to exploit a presumption that Delphic Apollo would represent, as usual, the will of Zeus. In seeking to explain why by 414/3 Apollo’s support of eighteen years earlier had apparently little remaining moral force, we might be tempted to invoke simple passage of time. But again we remember how an oracle apparently far from new or of clear origin had been deployed by Spartan authorities to justify letting go the helots of Mt. Ithome. Quite likely the accusations of the 420s, not universally persuasive but (as we have seen) seriously influential, that Pleistoanax had improperly elicited a prophecy from the Pythia, had reduced the shrine’s credibility. But perhaps something more general was involved.
40 The authenticity of prophecies from distant shrines was always beyond the capacity of most to perceive. Oracles from Delphoi passed to Sparta along channels controlled by royalty, and the credit of kings at Sparta was, for many in our period, frequently low or non-existent. We can explain the ascendancy of the divination involving setbacks and guilt in part because it invoked the direct experiences of most Spartans. It was based on things they could see. And Sparta was, as I have tried to show elsewhere, a society in which the visual was privileged.49 Later, king Agesilaos can be seen exploiting the divinatory force of the visual. In organising at Ephesos the spectacle of a city as ‘a workshop of war’, Agesilaos had brought together various forms of military practice: ‘you could see the gymnasia full of men exercising, the hippodrome full of horsemen riding etc’ (a considerable list follows). But: ‘One would also have been fortified (ἐπερρώσθη… ἀ ν) to see first Agesilaos then the other soldiers wearing garlands… which they offered up to the goddess Artemis [patroness of Ephesos]. For wherever men revere the gods, train for war and practise to obey the authorities, there it can be expected that everything will radiate optimism.’ (Xen., Ages. Ι, 26f.; Hell. ΙΙΙ, 4, 16-18 is almost identical). That optimism, concerned with war and in part derived from religion, is, as Xenophon makes utterly clear, derived from what is seen.
41 There was, however, another (related) reason for Spartans in 414/3 to put special weight on the divination about their own guilt and suffering in the earlier, Archidamian, war. In the circumstances of 414/3, such reflections conduced to hope. Thucydides uses them to explain why the Spartans judged the moment a good one to renew war. This time (τότε δή, VII, 18, 3) things were different; this time it was the Athenians who were indulging in the illicit action which had once brought suffering upon Spartans. Thucydides, with emphasis and some repetition, cites (like Xenophon later) secular and religious considerations together. It seemed to Spartans a good moment to attack because Athens would be distracted by two wars, against themselves and against Sicilians. Spartans drew strength ( ῥώμη, VII, 18, 2; compare Xenophon’s ἐπερρώσθη above, likewise used of military optimism) from the thought that Athens would thus be easier to conquer. In listing Sparta’s reasons for re-opening war now, Thucydides explicitly privileges these two: μά λιστα δέ…, ‘But what most fortified the Spartans were…’ – the secular thought about Athens’ double war and the religious one about the Athenians having been the first to break the peace-treaty and thus being likely to suffer for their demerits as Sparta once had for hers. Again, this optimism of 414/3 instantiates a marked tendency among Spartans, their especially acute form of the Greek sense of kairos, of military opportunity. 50 A time when an enemy was weak was a time for Sparta, with its limited manpower, to strike. What the present passage of Thucydides adds to our knowledge of this pattern is that, for Spartans, enemy weakness might take the form not only of military exposure, as identified by secular reasoning, but also of moral exposure, of setbacks to be anticipated
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for religious reasons. And now we may see a resemblance between Spartan calculations, secular and religious, in 431 and in 414/3. In 431 Athens was militarily exposed, a large proportion of its hoplites far away at the siege of Poteidaia.51 But she was religiously exposed as well, with Apollo asserting his hostility. Both considerations, the secular and the divinatory, might help to hurry the Spartans to action, and might even have helped to deflect them from time-consuming arbitration, in 431. Like the siege of Poteidaia, Apollo’s alignment with Sparta might not last for long, and should be exploited while it was available. The divination which prevailed in 414/3, like that of 431, played to an established strategic mentality.
42 For Athens, after 413, we hear little about any influence of divination on affairs of state. The débâcle in Sicily had led to mass anger against (in Thucydides’ phrase) ‘oracle- specialists and manteis and whoever else by using divination had made them hope to capture Sicily’ (VIII, 1, 1). Of all Thucydides’ briefer references to the power of prophecy this is perhaps the most tantalising in its lack of detail. His phrase does, however, suggest something of the scale of the optimistic prophecy, which corresponds with detail he gives us about the extent and influence of pessimistic prophecy among the expeditionary force during its last days.52 Perhaps part of the post-Sicilian reaction was the law alluded to in Plato’s Laches (199a) against manteis’ overruling generals on campaign. Plutarch’s Nikias reflects understandable attempts, in the interest of later diviners, to show that the decision to stay at Syracuse after the lunar eclipse did not involve any inherent weakness in the art of divination.53 The discredit into which soothsaying had fallen among many Athenians may have lasted long after the Sicilian expedition.54 For Spartans we know of no such reason for religion to decline in influence. There is, rather, a remarkable continuity in its prominence. And much of the detail which survives on this subject concerns the most conspicuous Spartan individual of the period, Lysandros, the victor of Aigospotamoi.
Lysandros, and the accession of Agesilaos
43 Sparta’s custom, of presenting its own history in a series of highly moralising anecdotes concerning individuals and (especially) their deaths, made it probable that Lysandros would be acutely aware of the need not to be assimilated to one man above all: the regent Pausanias. The two commanders had much in common, as no doubt Lysandros’ Spartan contemporaries would point out (cf. Athen., 543b-c). Each had led to triumphant conclusion a war against a most dangerous enemy. Each then acquired a position of personal eminence and power outside Sparta which made men look to him for leadership rather than to Sparta’s (other) authorities. Each was in consequence exposed to strong resistance within Sparta, whether from jealousy or from concern for Sparta’s levelling constitution. The danger that Lysandros would follow Pausanias’ path to a bad end was very likely obvious to Lysandros himself. Much that he did after his conquest of Athens is explicable as an attempt to resist the assimilation. Such resistance was all the more necessary because the logic of his position continued to press him in a similar direction to that taken by Pausanias – and not least when, having proved to the world and to himself his high competence, he found himself, as Pausanias had been after his victory, sidelined within his own city.
44 In contrast to Pausanias (as portrayed in Spartan story), Lysandros did not indulge in the luxury which his situation made possible. We hear that enormous sums of cash which
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came into his hands after Aigospotamoi were sent to Sparta with an exact tally (Plut., Lys., 16); other moneys seem to have been sent to shrines, as we shall see, for the bribing of others. The conqueror of the Athenian empire was to die, according to report, without any great personal wealth (Theopomp. ap. Athen. 543b-c; Plut., Lys., 30). Nor could he be accused, as Pausanias had been, of treasonable dealings with the enemy. He seems to have championed a policy of extreme ferocity towards defeated Athens.55 Towards Persia, the power with which Pausanias had reportedly had private dealings, Lysandros would again take a position of outright aggression after the death of the Persian prince, Kyros, with whom he had been allied in accordance with official Spartan policy. Like Pausanias, Lysandros advertised victory by placing a monument at Delphoi, the notice board of the Greek world. And like his predecessor he could not resist doing so in a way which advertised himself. Lysandros had his statue as centrepiece of the extravagant ‘Navarchs’ Monument’, which recalled to visitors at Delphoi the victory of Aigospotamoi.56 But that monument involved a conspicuous difference from the physical record left at Delphoi by Pausanias the regent. The latter had offended his peers at Sparta by using a monument at Delphoi to name himself as the conqueror of the Medes (Thuc., I, 132, 1-3). Lysandros’ monument signalled his own uniqueness: Pausanias the periegete tells that Lysandros was shown being crowned by divinity, by Poseidon (X, 9, 7). But the monument also had statues of some thirty other naval commanders. Did Lysandros hope by creating this small crowd to avoid the resentment aroused by the regent’s singular claim? In addition there were statues of other intimate colleagues: Lysandros’ steersman and – mentioned first among these colleagues by our source – his mantis. The latter’s name, according to Pausanias the periegete, was Agias, and he was the grandson of the Elean seer Tisamenos (III, 11, 5f.). The diviner who acted for Lysandros at Aigospotamoi was thus the direct descendant of the man who had acted as mantis for regent Pausanias at the battle of Plataia.
45 At this point it may be forgivable to undertake a speculative reconstruction. Surviving accounts of the engagement at Aigospotamoi tell of five successive sorties by the Athenian fleet, each time challenging the Spartan fleet to battle, each time – the challenge refused – sailing back to its base on the northern shore of the Hellespont. After the fifth refusal, Athenians were relaxed to the point of dispersing from their ships and became easy prey for Lysandros’ unexpected descent.
46 With hindsight this whole procedure might look like brilliant planning on the Spartans’ part. But should we assume that Lysandros had initially anticipated the particular form of opportunity which the Athenian dispersal offered?57 Perhaps he did; he might have remembered the story about Kleomenes’ victorious tactic against the Argives, who themselves made the mistake of assuming that Spartan patterns of military behaviour would continue unaltered (Hdt., VI, 77f.). But we should also recall the role ascribed by Herodotos to the soothsayer Tisamenos at Plataia. The latter announced that each of the sacrifices which he performed resulted in omens requiring that Spartan forces stay put, refrain from attack; this they reportedly did, in spite of extraordinary pressure, until at last the omens turned positive (IX, 36, 61f.). His opposite number, the Greek seer in the Persian camp, is recorded as advising likewise, and as being amply paid for his work: IX, 37f. To be master of timing was, as we have seen, the mantis’ particular role. Xenophon would later record the enormous reward – ten talents – given by Prince Kyros to a Greek seer who had correctly forecast the timing of enemy movements (Anab. I, 7, 18). Such prophecy affecting tactics would be especially valued no doubt by Spartans, given their own high sense of strategic kairos. One may surely speculate that Agias’ role at
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Aigospotamoi was similar, perhaps even in conscious imitation of his ancestor; that it was a series of delays inspired, in part, by himself that presented Lysandros with an unpredicted opportunity in the form of Athenian relaxation. And there is some late evidence which tallies interestingly with such a hypothesis. The writer Pausanias in the second century AD visited Sparta and recorded that a bronze statue of this Agias had been erected there. He states, ‘They say that this Agias, by his performance as mantis for Lysandros, captured the Athenian fleet by Aigospotamoi… Agias was the son of Agelochos the son of Tisamenos, the Elean who… etc.’ (III, 11, 5f.) We note the (to us) extraordinary fact that Agias, rather than Lysandros, can be described as the person who defeated the Athenians. This is even stronger than the phrasing Herodotos used of Agias’ grandfather: the latter ‘by acting as mantis was jointly responsible for (συγκαταιρέει) five very great victories’ (IX, 35). Secularising critics may wonder whether, from diverse secular motives, Lysandros and others exaggerated the role of Agias. Lysandros might have done so to avoid comparison with the egoism of Pausanias the regent, but also, and more subtly, to suggest that, just as he had a special relation with the god of sea and earthquake, he also was (through Agias) the recipient of particularly helpful signals from divinity. Sparta would surely be wise to reappoint a man with such privileged connections. His opponents in turn might retrospectively have boosted the role of Agias in a contrary spirit, to dilute Lysandros’ personal achievement. Indeed, diviners associated with Spartan military success may have served generally as devaluers of the achievement of generals, of kings, in accordance with the spirit of levelling among the homoioi. Was that perhaps part of the reason for the lasting acclaim attached to the Elean Tisamenos, whose hereditary association with divination could challenge that inherited by kings? In any case, the prominence of Agias in the monument at Delphoi, and in the words of Pausanias the periegete, suggests that – unlike the Athenians – the Spartans ended the Peloponnesian War with a fortified sense of the value of military soothsaying, and of the worth of hereditary specialists in that sphere.
47 Both during that war and after Sparta’s victory, there continued savage internal politics involving royalty and eventually Lysandros. Before the battle of Mantineia (418), Spartans had turned on king Agis (Thuc., V, 63). He was blamed for military setbacks and for not profiting from what they saw as an unprecedentedly good opportunity (παρασχὸν καλῶς ὡς οὔπω πρότερον58) to crush Argos (again). It was proposed to demolish his house (as had been done in the case of the exiled Leotykhidas; Hdt., VI, 72) and to fine him 100,000 drakhmai. Thucydides indicates that the state came close to executing these punishments, which in effect would have meant disgrace and permanent exile, but settled instead for severely restricting Agis’ right to take military initiatives. A body of 10 commissars was attached to him, to control decisions to lead out the Spartan army; this should recall the body of officials which, according to Xenophon, witnessed the inspection of omens over which a king presided at similar strategic moments. A king from the other royal house, the Agiad Pausanias who succeeded his father Pleistoanax, had profound differences of foreign policy with Lysandros; these are most obvious in policy towards Athens (Plut., Lys., 21 for ‘the kings’ as jealous and fearful of Lysandros’ power in this connection). King Pausanias would effectively spare the city in 403 and allow its exiled democrats to return to power. Lysandros, almost certainly, had more drastic plans but was, late in the day, overruled by royal authority.59 Pausanias was subsequently put on trial for his actions at Athens; although acquitted, he was obviously the target of powerful elements within Sparta’s ruling circles. Lysandros himself suffered what was very likely a painful and partisan humiliation when, at the same period, his trusted colleague in the
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victorious naval campaigns against Athens, Thorax, was put to death at Sparta on a charge of possessing silver; Lysandros’ party is recorded as having previously argued for coinage to be used at Sparta (Plut., Lys., 17). How royalty stood on that question is not recorded. But when, in a later year (395), Lysandros was killed in warfare abroad, Pausanias – who had been campaigning nearby – was brought to trial again, this time no doubt amid resentment at his not having prevented Lysandros’ death. He was exiled, permanently.
48 Lysandros’ engagement against royalty was remembered as having extended widely. And divination was recorded as among his chief instruments. At the death of king Agis, in 400, the succession was disputed. Agis himself had seemingly cast doubt on the legitimacy of the person who claimed to be his son, Leotykhidas. The king is recorded (by Plutarch, Ages., 3; Lys., 22) as having waited suspiciously late, until the end of his life, to acknowledge the boy as his heir.60
49 A rival candidate for the throne was Agesilaos, younger half-brother of the late Agis. Xenophon, elsewhere the frank eulogist of Agesilaos, records in his Hellenica that Agesilaos had the prominent backing of Lysandros. The latter’s motive was very likely the hope that Agesilaos would prove helpful, if not subservient, to his own interest; Lysandros had been, reportedly (Plut., Ages., 2; Lys., 22), the lover of Agesilaos in the latter’s youth, and such relationships were supposed at Sparta to involve moral dominance, the formation of the younger male’s character by the older. Xenophon’s account of the confrontation between the two factions in this matter, so important for the standing of his revered Agesilaos, is hardly trustworthy in what it asserts. Agesilaos or his supporters would very likely pass to Xenophon a version contrived to validate the future king’s cause.61 But in another sense Xenophon’s account may be even more revealing, because more general in its implication: it showed how Spartans thought they should resolve such matters.
50 On this occasion too, secular argument is accompanied by divination. Each side argued from parental attitudes to Leotykhidas’ paternity, but also from the text of a supposed oracle. Xenophon and Plutarch, while diverging in other respects, concur in this. Agesilaos in Xenophon’s account suggests that an earthquake drove Leotykhidas’ true father into the open. Plutarch writes that, according to Agesilaos, the earthquake had driven Agis from his wife’s bed for a period, within which time Leotykhidas was conceived (Ages., 3 with Cartledge 1987, 113). Xenophon tells of a ‘very eminent oracle-specialist, Diopeithes’ who spoke in support of Leotykhidas and adduced what he claimed to be an oracle of Apollo, one which warned Sparta against a lame kingship. Plutarch helpfully emphasises that Agesilaos was lame (Ages., 2); Xenophon tactfully leaves the matter implicit. Plutarch diverges from Xenophon also by supplying a text, in four hexameters, of the alleged oracle. Both writers represent Diopeithes as arguing against allowing a lame man to become king, and Lysandros as successfully arguing that in reality the oracle excluded Leotykhidas because, if one of the dyarchs was not of the royal, Heraclid, descent, the kingship itself would be lame – metaphorically.
51 Who was this Diopeithes, whose intervention was not only tolerated but taken so seriously in an obviously capital affair? We note that the legitimacy of his ‘Apolline’ oracle is not challenged, even though nothing is said to indicate that Spartans had a precise idea about its origin. In neither of our sources is a patronymic or ethnic given for Diopeithes. Xenophon, as we have seen, stresses his eminence as oracle-specialist; Plutarch does likewise, perhaps with irony. Scholars have rightly suggested that the person in question
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was identical with the Diopeithes mentioned in three different Athenian contexts by the comedian Aristophanes (Knights, 1085; Wasps, 380; Birds, 988). The first of these comic passages refers to Apollo as ‘riddling’ about Diopeithes’ hand, the second passage refers perhaps to wild bravado, to a ‘soul filled with Diopeithes’. In the Birds, a character who is in dialogue with a chresmologos speaks about oracular language and uses the phrase ‘not if he is Lampon or the great Diopeithes’. Since Lampon had been the foremost Athenian mantis of his day, his name twice given by Thucydides at the head of a list of those swearing on the Athenian side to an agreement with Sparta (V, 19, 2; 24, 1), ‘the great Diopeithes’ is either in his company because he too was very well known, or – by comic inversion – because he was ridiculously outclassed in importance by Lampon. The former explanation is better; all three comic passages are highly allusive, that is, lacking in detail about Diopeithes; the audience each time is assumed to know well who he is. The latest of the Aristophanic passages, that from the Birds, is of 414. We cannot be sure that Diopeithes was still alive in that year. But if he was, 414 would be close enough to the time of Agesilaos’ accession (400) to encourage speculation that the Diopeithes involved in each case was one and the same. There are several possible reasons for Athenian Diopeithes to have come to ply his craft at Sparta. Spartans at the period might have provided a more respectful audience, with more grounds than the Athenians for heeding religious prophecy in political affairs. Spartan material support for divination could now draw on the wealth diverted from the Athenian empire. And Lysandros, whose faction Diopeithes sought to obstruct, had in 404-3 been drastically more anti-Athenian than fellow Spartans who opposed him. He had not only presided over the destruction of the Athenian fleet and empire; he had also apparently sought the destruction of Athens itself. In seeking to block Lysandros’ scheme to install Agesilaos as king, Diopeithes might well consider himself to be on a patriotic mission. That the Athenian Xenophon did not think it necessary to describe the diviner here as an Athenian might even have been due to his notoriety. The case may be similar to that of Tisamenos: a foreigner, reputed for his specialism, allowed to regulate Spartan royalty to a degree, because of the faith which Spartans put in his craft.
52 In explaining why Lysandros prevailed over the specialist soothsayer in the interpretation of the oracle, we may add, to considerations of Lysandros’ secular (albeit contested) authority, a further religious motive. At the time when Thucydides was writing, Spartans – as we have seen – were still telling of an earlier divinely-inspired earthquake, sent to punish a Spartan offence. Xenophon’s account of Agesilaos’ repartee against Leotykhidas has him referring to another earthquake, one which unmasked the adulteration (probably, it was understood, by an Athenian, Alkibiades) of a Heraklid’s royal bed. Synchronism was so often a key to why an event was seen as ominous. A coincidence in time between earthquake and such signicant adultery might well be represented as numinous. And according to the wording we have in Xenophon, that is how Agesilaos did represent it. The latter reportedly informed Leotykhidas, ‘But Poseidon gave evidence against your lying account by driving your father out of the bedroom and into the open with an earthquake’. Agesilaos then went on, according to Xenophon, to say that ‘You were born in the tenth month from the moment when he took flight and appeared no more in the bedroom’ (Hell. III, 3, 2). Now, this is a slightly unexpected way to make a point which, to our secular thinking, would have been more simply and effectively made by saying, ‘And you were born in the tenth month from then.’ The point about the lover’s thorough absence from Timaia’s bedroom might even, for secular thinking, weaken Agesilaos’ case rhetorically, in that it ruled out subsequent days on which the interloper
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could have fathered the boy. But his reported words would make good sense if Agesilaos was implicitly claiming not only that relevant adultery had not happened after the earthquake, but also that it had not happened before: that Poseidon, in other words, had reacted with perfect timing, immediately the offence took place. Once more it may seem that, for Spartans, appeal to a publicly-witnessed event made for more persuasive divination than did an oracular text unsupported by such.
The conspiracy of Kinadon – or of Agesilaos?
53 Within a year of Agesilaos’ contested succession, the Spartan authorities announced the discovery of a conspiracy against the Spartiate class and its rule over the southern Peloponnese. Here too, as we shall shortly see, divination has an important role in the narrative. The conspirators were alleged to be (or to include) men of inferior grades, led by one Kinadon who was apparently, although a non-Spartiate, of standing to be entrusted with sensitive official business. Aristotle mentions Kinadon briefly, as a person of manly qualities excluded from the highest status and driven thereby to mount an attack against the Spartiates. In the same sentence, he presents the case of Lysandros as an instance of a narrow regime provoking sedition: ‘when individuals of stature and second to none in their personal qualities are dishonoured by men of higher status, as Lysandros was by the kings’ (Pol., 1306b). We shall return shortly to the question of Lysandros’ own sedition. But an awareness of the extreme tensions within the ruling group of Spartiates could have made plausible a conspiracy at this time, in accordance with the principle observed by Aristotle, that the helots, ‘lie in wait, as it were, for disasters’ affecting the Spartans. Aristotle’s comments about Kinadon confirm the importance (which is not to say the truth) of the narrative we have concerning him. That narrative comes, however, primarily from Xenophon (Hell. III, 3, 4-11). He (to repeat) was the contemporary and eulogist of king Agesilaos, and Agesilaos would be himself among the prime targets of any plot, indeed plotters might have been inspired by the presumption that this controversial and inexperienced dyarch would initially be weak. How should we interpret Xenophon’s narrative of the conspiracy?
54 Paul Cartledge writes of Xenophon’s account: ‘Above all … it illuminates as if by a whole battery of arc-lamps the form and character of the Spartan class struggle’ (1987, 165). He is right, and we should note that it is general phenomena which he describes as revealed in strong – and artificial – light. Not every detail of Xenophon’s account here can be relied on. That account had to be persuasive in so far as it dealt with things publicly familiar, such as the approximate (and overwhelming) ratio of helots to Spartiates – or the availability of torture in public before execution for those who challenged Spartiate ascendancy.62 Points which Xenophon’s narrative mentions incidentally, without stress, are among the likeliest to be true. But when he narrates the central and sensational ‘facts’, those far from publicly testable, in short what would have been to contemporary Spartans ‘newsworthy’, we should be far more sceptical. Such were Kinadon’s supposed guilt, his confession, the identity of his few, intimate associates, and of his intended allies, the hosts of those belonging to various underclasses who would supposedly be glad ‘to eat the Spartiates, even without cooking them first’ (Hell. III, 3, 6). The Spartans had, according to Thucydides’ account of an episode from the 420s, put to death very large numbers – some 2000 – of helots who were not only innocent but who had claims to be of exceptional loyalty and helpfulness to the Spartiates. The purpose of that slaughter had
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been to head off potential revolt of the helot class more generally, and the Spartans’ procedure of identifying and assembling the 2000 victims had involved some of the most cynical and well-organised lying in history (Thuc., IV, 80, 3f.). Should we really be sure that the Spartiates could not, for raisons d’état, have made victims now of a few innocent – and impressive – men? We shall shortly consider details of another alleged plot involving as leader no less a figure than Lysandros, one elaborately planned but never put into action. This other plot, belonging within a few years (or less) of Kinadon’s alleged conspiracy, was itself reportedly discovered by Agesilaos. This plot too had as target the kings. Plutarch commented that Lysandros had constructed, for his conspiracy, a scenario recalling a theatrical plot, that of a tragedy (Lys., 25). It may be that we should treat the bright lights constituted by Xenophon’s narrative of Kinadon as akin to theatrical spotlights, revealing here too an elaborate mise-en-scène.
55 Significantly, for the purpose of the present study, the idea that divination involved in each plot was expected by the plotters to be credible is not emphasised or treated as a ‘newsworthy’ claim; instead, it is a given. Spartans were expected to trust their diviners. And the role of these prophets in the narrative of Kinadon’s conspiracy is itself important. The existence of a plot was first suspected, according to Xenophon, because a mantis reported that thrice in succession the entrails resulting from Agesilaos’ official sacrifices were bad: on the third occasion so bad as to cause him to exclaim, ‘Agesilaos, what this suggests to me is that we are already surrounded by enemies’ (Hell. III, 3, 4). Within five days of this inspired report (a chronology by which Xenophon or his source surely intended to signal that the mantis’ warning was well-founded), the first informer brought to the ephors detail of a plot led by Kinadon. Xenophon then narrates how Kinadon was successfully deceived by the authorities, and induced to leave Sparta so that he could be arrested discreetly. Detail is given on how the deception was achieved, with Kinadon being presented with a situation which would seem to him quite normal. It is as if someone telling the tale was proud of Spartiate efficiency in the matter. We recall Xenophon’s approving reports concerning Agesilaos in other contexts – that the king outclassed his Persian enemy Tissaphernes in the matter of deceit as thoroughly as an adult outclasses a child (Ages. 1, 17), and that he boosted the morale of his own men by lying to them about the outcome of the battle of Knidos. Here, in the case of Kinadon’s conspiracy, Xenophon may well have thought he was following Agesilaos’ own version of events; he claims to know, as we have just seen, the words of the soothsayer in conversation with the king. We may, that is, in reading of the conspiracy of Kinadon, be following a narrative supplied ultimately by a proudly accomplished liar at the head of the Spartan state.
56 How would we, and the Spartans in general, know – other than from soothsaying – that there had been a conspiracy at all? Apart from the account of the initial, timely informer, the pièce à conviction, as presented by Xenophon, is Kinadon’s own confession. That Kinadon should confess truthfully and name his associates is presented by Xenophon – implicitly – as natural, predictable and requiring no special comment (III, 3, 10f.). Now Kinadon, as someone the Spartans had already trusted to arrest others (III, 3, 8f.), would have a good idea of what the Spartans would do to himself as a self-convicted insurrectionist, bent on attacking the Spartiate class with weapons. It seems that Xenophon has suppressed another predictable element of the affair: torture.63 Compare his delicate silences elsewhere on matters embarrassing, or at least distasteful, to Sparta: the fate of the thousands of Athenian sailors sentenced to death (and killed) after Aigospotamoi,64 the details of Sparta’s defeat at Leuktra,65 or indeed the ultimate fate of
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Kinadon himself, whom Xenophon describes as being led around Sparta with his fellow- plotters, hands bound and neck in a ‘dog-collar’, flogged and stabbed but thereafter as simply ‘receiving justice’ (τῆς δίκηςἔτυχον, III, 3, 11). And if torture was involved, Kinadon might of course say anything that he thought the Spartiates wanted to hear. Or he might say nothing, his ‘confession’ provided for him. Spartiates themselves might doubt the reality of confessions in such a case. Was that, perhaps, why the official story was so emphatic about the soothsayer’s dire warning at the start: did it need divination for most Spartans to be sure that there had been a plot at all?
57 Another soothsayer was prominently involved in the story. Unlike the seer who gave the initial warning, this second prophet is named: Xenophon refers to him with the expression ‘the mantis Tisamenos and the other most important ( ἐπικαιριωτάτουs)’ members of the plot who were arrested (III, 3, 11). He is thus prominent in the tale66 – as well he might be. For this Tisamenos bears the most distinguished name in the history of soothsaying at Sparta. He was almost certainly a relative of the revered Tisamenos who had advised the Spartans during and after the Persian Wars. We have seen that Agias, recorded as the grandson of the great Tisamenos, was remembered as the mantis who successfully guided Lysandros at Aigospotamoi, and was enduringly honoured alongside his general on Lysandros’ monument at Delphoi. The tale of Kinadon’s conspiracy seems to present another of the mantic family, in all likelihood a Spartiate, as conspiring against the regime. Again, we cannot be sure that this younger Tisamenos had any part in any plot. But for the Spartan authorities to have been willing at least to ruin the reputation of so eminently-connected a prophet, and probably to put him to death with Kinadon and the others, should suggest a pre-existing rift within ruling circles.
58 Xenophon introduces the story of Kinadon’s plot immediately after ending the account of Agesilaos’ accession, an accession which had been contested on divinatory grounds. The link with Agesilaos is emphasised: ‘Agesilaos had been king for less than a year when, while he was sacrificing in the regular and prescribed way on behalf of the city (τῶν τεταγμένων τινὰ θυσι ῶν ὑπὲρ τῆς πολ έωs), the mantis stated that the gods were indicating a plot of the most serious kind’ (III, 3, 4). We observe Xenophon’s emphasis on the proper, official nature of the sacrifice. Such a sacrifice was very likely to be understood as having reliable, official witnesses, as in the military sacrifices which Xenophon records elsewhere in connection with Agesilaos. We are not to think that Agesilaos had suborned a mantis for his personal ends, or that the mantis had spoken privately. Subversive manteia, as Xenophon will shortly make clear, belonged to Kinadon’s faction. We should surely consider the possibility that the whole episode was a coup mounted by Agesilaos to kill some, and to intimidate many more, of those who continued to resent, if not to resist, his irregular installation as king. Those many Spartiates who feared or disapproved of Lysandros would be likely to resent the latter’s choice of king – until such time as Agesilaos distanced himself definitively from his eminent patron. And since the accession of Agesilaos had involved ignoring the prima facie meaning of a supposedly Apolline prophecy, it would be likely enough that opponents of the new king would be supported by one or more of Sparta’s soothsayers. The younger Tisamenos, if indeed of the Iamid line, would be aware that his family owed its eminent position at Sparta to the endorsement given by Delphic Apollo to Tisamenos the elder. The role of this Tisamenos in the story of the conspiracy has been somewhat neglected in otherwise good modern accounts.67 Yet he has more of a claim to prominence and influence at Sparta even than the trusted Inferior Kinadon. It is conceivable that, if Agesilaos did
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create or inflate the ‘conspiracy of Kinadon’, to eliminate Tisamenos was one of his chief aims. Plutarch records that later, after the catastrophic defeat at Leuktra in 371, Spartans censured Agesilaos for his improper accession and the disregard of the oracle about lameness, and blamed him for the general collapse of Spartan power (Ages., 30, cf. 34; Comp. Ages. and Pomp., 1). Here, it seems, is another case of an oracle brought to a high level of influence by dramatically visible events. But local opposition to Agesilaos had recurred over the intervening decades, and may indeed have been continuous. Killing those internal opponents – even Spartiate women68 – whom he thought dangerous is apparent in the king’s later career, albeit from sources other than Xenophon. So is carefully-staged grand deceit in a religious setting. In passing off the débâcle at Knidos as a victory, Agesilaos is recorded as having sacrificed cattle in celebration and as having ‘distributed the sacrificed animals widely’ (Xen., Hell. IV, 3, 14). He would know that this benign fraud would be revealed as such before long; he evidently could rely on his fellow countrymen to approve his action. In contrast, if any deception involved killing trustworthy members of the Spartiate community, Agesilaos and his intimates might need to maintain the secret for ever.
Lysandros: a plot against the hereditary dyarchy?
59 A final episode for the present study involves elaborate prophetic machinations ascribed to Lysandros. His purpose was supposedly to consolidate his position at Sparta by replacing the hereditary dyarchy with an elected ruler, chosen on merit: he himself was to be that person. Analysing the matter we may perceive manipulation upon manipulation. But rather than dismiss our information as too unreliable to deserve much attention, we may once again study one of its chief presuppositions: that in deciding matters of their own high politics, Spartans depended profoundly on divination from non-Spartan sources. Surviving narrative of Lysandros’ supposed plot is found chiefly in Diodorus (XIV, 13) and Plutarch (Lys., 24-6).69 Since Diodorus normally follows Ephoros for this period, and Plutarch (ibid., 25, 30) twice names Ephoros as his own source in this connection, it is virtually certain that the narrative goes back to the Fourth Century. Aristotle also refers to the matter, albeit briefly and guardedly: ‘as some say that Lysandros tried to abolish the kingship’ (Pol., 1301b, cf. 1306b). Plutarch ( Lys., 30) represents elements of Lysandros’ plot as having been discovered by Agesilaos while searching Lysandros’ house after the latter’s death in 395. There could hardly be a clearer warning than this for the modern – or ancient – source-critic. Agesilaos had clashed repeatedly with his former lover and promoter; the two men had a clear conflict of interests over who should have the main influence over Greek allies of Sparta in Asia Minor and elsewhere.70 Agesilaos might well wish to reduce the influence of Lysandros’ domestic partisans even after his death; following that event, they evidently played a powerful role in the exiling of king Pausanias. And, of course, if even the single element was true, that Lysandros had entertained a scheme against the traditional dyarchy, Agesilaos as king had reason to present the affair in the most prejudicial light; we have already seen details of his attachment to salutary untruth.
60 Post mortem revelations of indefensible conduct by a contested Spartan leader were, as we have also seen, something of a narrative genre at Sparta. Such tales contrast significantly with the secrecy, or paucity of information, which – as Thucydides remarks (V, 68, 2) – characterised Sparta’s political arrangements as viewed by other Greeks.
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Sparta’s lively concern to determine what potential enemies knew of the city obviously went to extremes: usually they had better know little or nothing, but sometimes they were presented with a tempting feast of detail. Plutarch’s instinct is good when (Lys., 25) he repeatedly likens the plot to a contrivance of the theatre. If he made a mistake, it was to assume that the mise-en-scène was of Lysandros’ own conception, rather than possibly the work of an enemy. According to Plutarch (Lys., 30), Agesilaos’ first thought was to inform his fellow citizens, to show them what sort of man Lysandros had secretly been, but the king then decided against publication. The story evidently was not tested at the time by any sort of formal process to which defenders of Lysandros’ memory might have had access. Informal and delayed diffusion of the story may of course have aided the cause of defamation. The motive given by Plutarch for Agesilaos’ restraint was itself in keeping with the king’s chosen image: he followed the advice of an ephor, that the story would not be beneficial to Sparta. He might also prefer not to be seen disseminating personally a tale which other Spartans would readily perceive as all-too-likely to profit himself, if not to be his own invention.71 At Sparta, a state resembling modern governments in its techniques of news-management, the king might well prefer the story to be leaked.
61 The tale of Lysandros’ plot is, like the story of regent Pausanias’ plot in Thucydides, long and detailed by the standards of our sources. Plutarch’s version has a good anecdotal start, suggestive of a leisurely original: ‘There lived in Pontus a poor woman who claimed to be pregnant by Apollo…’ (Lys., 26). We must here, for brevity, be selective of detail, though that of course has its risks. Agesilaos claimed to have found, while searching Lysandros’ house for other reasons, a speech written for him by one Kleon of Halikarnassos (otherwise unknown to us) advocating the principle of replacing Sparta’s dyarchs with a ruler chosen on merit (Lys., 26, 30). Plutarch reports that Lysandros had learned the speech by heart, in the hope of convincing Spartans thereby. One asks immediately how the discovery of a written speech could have been accompanied by proper information that Lysandros had worked hard to master it. Further detail in the same context, as to Lysandros’ thinking in deciding not to use the speech after all, again suggests construction beyond the evidence. Grote saw the difficulty in believing that a successful Spartan politician such as Lysandros could ever have imagined that his countrymen, famous for their proud rejection of elaborate rhetoric, could have been led to subvert their supposedly ancient constitution by a long speech. He sensibly suggests that any such speech from Kleon had been composed on the orator’s own initiative as speculative flattery, from hope that Lysandros would reward it handsomely.72 Far more likely to impress Spartans was appeal to Delphic divination; and it is this which forms the main element of the alleged plot.
62 Lysandros, it is said, had hoped to procure from corrupt Delphic officials a prophecy stating that ‘It would be better and more advantageous for the Spartans to choose their kings from among the best citizens’. To explain why this oracle had previously been unknown, it was to be claimed that Delphoi had long possessed a secret store of oracles, which could be revealed only by a son of Apollo. A young man, the son of the poor woman from Pontus, was to be presented as that person; he, with suitable staging and help from the complaisant Delphians, would dramatically reveal the oracle which so obviously pointed to Lysandros. The young man did duly come to Delphoi, but another of the key conspirators took fright and disappeared. Plutarch, ironically sustaining his theatrical imagery, writes that Lysandros ‘failed to carry out his dramatic production (δράματοs), through lack of daring on the part of one of the actors (ὑποκριτῶν)’ (Lys., 26). He adds:
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‘None of this emerged during Lysandros’ lifetime, but only after his death’. Plutarch allows his own disapproval of Lysandros to show at times, as when describing the ‘uncountable slaughter of democrats’ carried out by and for the Spartan leader (Lys., 19), or his deceptive use of feigned and ostentatious conduct and of sworn undertaking in order to bring about one such massacre; Plutarch here too uses the metaphor of ‘staged’ behaviour (ὑπεκρίνετο, Lys., 8). He records a maxim attributed to Lysandros, that one should deceive children with knuckle-bones and adults with religious oaths, and states that he was untypical of Sparta in ‘treating the gods as enemies’ (ibid.). As one who himself became a priest of Delphoi, Plutarch’s distaste at the planned corruption – that is, devaluation – of the shrine can be imagined. Significantly, he does not doubt the general story; it evidently fitted well with other recorded aspects of Lysandros’ career.
63 To be plausible – and we recall that the story of Lysandros’ plot was taken seriously, if not firmly believed, by Aristotle – a dramatic account which is clearly based on private information must cohere with noteworthy information which is public and deemed reliable. Persuasive elements of Lysandros’ history which may already have been in the public domain, before the tale of the plot was launched, concerned his relations with the three leading shrines of the Greek world. Lysandros is recorded as having excused an absence from Sparta by claiming business which required his going to Zeus Ammon, in Libya. We are told, in some detail, that the authorities of Ammon thereafter complained to Sparta that Lysandros had tried to corrupt the shrine, a charge which was not upheld (Diod. Sic., ΧΙV, 13). If we suspect that Agesilaos contrived most of the tale of a plot against the hereditary dyarchy, we should of course ask whether this story concerning Ammon was concocted by the same source. It is possible; but the events concerning Ammon – the departure thither of Lysandros and the arrival at Sparta of noteworthy figures from the shrine – were such that many at Sparta would be likely to know of their reality – or otherwise – during Lysandros’ lifetime. Lying on this score would have been perilous. Even more obviously public was Lysandros’ intense interest in Delphoi, which he had adorned by the conspicuous and hugely expensive memorial to his victory over the Athenians. Plutarch (Lys., 18) would later pass on a report from one Anaxandridas of Delphoi that Lysandros had left a personal deposit of slightly less than two talents at the shrine; if anything of this had been known at the time, it would also have added colour to stories of his having intended to bribe the Delphic authorities. As to the report, evidently from Ephoros (Plut., Lys., 25, cf. Diod. Sic., XIV, 13), that Lysandros had also attempted to suborn officials at the oracular shrine of Dodone, we have no indication whether it was current in Lysandros’ lifetime.
64 An element fundamental both to this alleged plot, and to the controversy over Agesilaos’ succession, is well put by Cartledge: ‘As that legitimacy [of the Spartan kings] was grounded ultimately in the divine sanction won from Apollo at Delphi, oracular means were required to undermine it’ (1987, 95). We have seen, in connection with the restoration of king Pleistoanax, that the idea of the kings’ having been installed, with religious acts, at the very foundation of the Spartan state was plausible at Sparta in the 420s. The ‘divinely-honoured kings’ (θεοτιμήτουs βασιλῆαs) were to have pride of place in decision-making, according to Delphic advice on the establishment of the Spartan constitution as commemorated in verses ascribed to a poet of the archaic era, Tyrtaios (Plut., Lyk., 6). The kings are apparently presented in the ‘Great’ Rhetra as ἀρχαγέταs, ‘founder-leaders’ (Plut., ibid.), which prose text could be presented by Plutarch as derived from Delphoi by Lykourgos (that is, long after the foundation of Sparta).73 We have seen
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evidence of repeated, sometimes violent rejection of individual Spartan kings through the fifth century; and in the early fourth came the exiling of king Pausanias. Given the strength of resistance to particular kings, one might well imagine that the whole principle of hereditary kingship needed some very powerful defence in order to withstand pressure for its abolition. That defence very likely was religious belief, and faith in the extreme antiquity of the institution. This latter faith might itself have a religious element: the idea that the kingship could not have had the eudaimonia or eutykhia to last so long without sustained divine support. If Lysandros’ plot was genuine, or if indeed it was faked by Agesilaos, it evidently reflected a grave problem for opponents of the principle of hereditary dyarchy. If Delphoi alone could undo what Delphoi itself had once sanctioned, the traditional close relationship of the kings with Delphoi, and in particular their guardianship of Delphic oracles concerning Sparta, gave the dyarchs a block. Even if Delphoi were to turn against the dyarchs it had long supported, unlikely in itself, the kings might suppress any prophecy which challenged their own interest. And since many Spartans in the case of Pleistoanax had supposed the Delphic oracle corruptible, a revolutionary utterance from the shrine might itself be subject to incredulity – unless specially impressive circumstances attended it. The story of the plot reflects an understanding that some such sensational development was required, whence the idea that a son of Apollo might work the oracle in a haze of glory.
Conclusion: divination and the insecure dyarchy
65 The account of the religious plot mounted by Lysandros, so unsatisfactory to the source- critic, so unappealing to the rationalist historian, turns out to have a solid virtue: it proves that, in the fourth century, the idea of abolishing the hereditary dyarchy was in the air – certainly outside Sparta and almost certainly within it. The apparently nebulous tale from Antiquity calls attention to two modern errors of perspective, both structural. As historians, we have overestimated the solidity of the dyarchy, and thus of Sparta’s constitution more generally, for two reasons. The first reason is that we have followed too closely the gaze of our principal sources. Herodotos writes unforgettably of the only king who came to a spectacularly good end: Leonidas. Thucydides dilates on king Arkhidamos, and Xenophon wrote at length explicitly, and perhaps at even greater length implicitly, about Agesilaos. Leonidas casts a positive aura on the kingship, while the latter two kings present for us an image of solidity. Arkhidamos was king for over forty years, and a long war is named after him; Agesilaos reigned for almost exactly forty years, and he is rightly taken as symbolizing Sparta’s critical, long, period of decline. If we considered as often the full list of royal rulers in our chosen period, including those who are not for so long the focus of our sources, a drastically different picture might appear. To take first the Agiad house:74
• Kleomenes (c. 520-490): died violently at Sparta, while in bonds. • Leonidas (490-480): died in battle after a reign of some ten years. • Pleistarkhos (480-458): for long a minor, with, as regent - • Pausanias (480-c. 470): effectively put to death by Spartan authorities. • Pleistoanax (458-408, with interruption): exiled for almost half of his reign, living in sanctuary for fear of Spartan violence. Pressed by serious accusations after his restoration. • Pausanias (408-395): twice put on trial at Sparta, exiled permanently on the second such occasion: spent some time living in sanctuary from fear of the Spartans (Plut., Lys., 30).
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66 Then the Eurypontid house: • Damaratos (515?-491): driven into permanent exile, where initially he was hunted by the Spartan authorities. • Leotykhidas (491-469): condemned by a Spartan court to be handed over to Aigina; later, after Xerxes’ invasion, driven into permanent exile, his house demolished by the Spartan authorities. • Arkhidamos (469-427). • Agis (427-400): threatened with ruinous fine and destruction of his house – in other words with permanent exile. • Agesilaos (400-360).
67 It appears that, over the period 500-395, most (seven out of eleven) royal rulers of Sparta were either killed, enduringly exiled or threatened with exile.
68 Now, the later the viewpoint of a Spartan within that period, the more likely it would have seemed to him – from ordinary induction – that current dyarchs would also come to a bad end.
69 But here we reach the second modern error of perspective. We ourselves are likely to be seduced by a mentality which besets historians of every level: hindsight. Just as (for example) every historian knows that a great syllabus is opening with Agrippa’s victory at Actium, and is likely to think (unless he or she struggles against the idea, consistently) that Romans of the time held a corresponding view about the Principate then beginning,75 so we are surely tempted to assume that Agesilaos on his accession felt he had a long future as king. We risk missing, or exploring too little, the insecurity he might feel as he acceded after unusual contest to a post which would predictably come under fierce attack. By attending to the long list of Sparta’s troubled kings, we better understand both the account of the conspiracy of Kinadon and that of Lysandros’ anti-regal plot. Whether true, much exaggerated, or untrue, each account reflects a realistic view that the very institution of the dyarchy had little left to commend it, according to contemporary Spartan opinion – save for religious considerations. But those religious considerations were themselves far from insignificant, whence their prominence in the sources.
70 It seems, then, that within the period of Spartan history for which our information is most extensive, from the reign of Kleomenes to that of Agesilaos, religion formed a commanding element in Spartan decision-making, on matters which contemporaries knew to be of the highest importance. By attending to this use of divination we also come to perceive the enduring insecurity of Sparta’s most prominent authorities, the kings. This fragility in the kingship may seem to be at odds with a feature of Sparta’s society prominently and well studied in recent times: her extraordinary royal funerals. Famously, Herodotos ‘makes strange’ these funerals to the extent of comparing them to royal obsequies of barbarian Asia, a territory for Greeks symbolic of slavish subordination to autocratic rulers. Spartan society – Spartiates, Perioikoi and helots – mobilised on a grand scale for noisy and spectacular rituals, at which the newly-dead king was cried up as the best king yet (Hdt., VI, 58-60). Xenophon writes, of the burial of Agis II, that its ‘grandeur seemed to exceed what a mere mortal man could claim’ (Hell. III, 3, 1), and that deceased kings were regarded as heroes rather than as dead mortals (Lak. Pol., 15, 9). The functions of a funeral are varied and subtle. Cartledge brings out this complexity with exactitude and caution. Parker also writes attractively, ‘Nothing brings out the realities of hierarchy and power as well as a funeral.76 But the forms of a royalist ceremony, gaudy or sombre,
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may seduce. Is it perhaps the case that one element in these assertive funerals amounted in effect to ‘Argument weak: shout!’? Spartans, those experts in the application of timing, would know that a funeral, in many cultures a time for the mentality of De mortuis nil nisi bonum, was the right moment to venture an extreme compliment towards royalty in a polis where royal power was forcefully contested. Agis, with his more-than-mortal funeral honours, was someone who in his lifetime had been the object of widespread rage among his fellow citizens and of serious attempts to evict him from Sparta. Perhaps our closest and most telling analogue to the royal funerals is the elaborate ceremony to re-install Pleistoanax as king in the early 420s, with its choruses and sacrifices supposedly identical to those which had accompanied the original installation of Sparta’s kingship, centuries before, at the very founding of the polis. This too was Pleistoanax’s moment of strength, in a career characterised by weakness: restored, for religious reasons, after some two decades in humiliating and dangerous exile, he faced domestic enemies who would be powerful enough in future to impose, indirectly, the direction of his foreign policy. He used his moment, as others perhaps used the royal funerals, to assert – defensively – the antiquity of his office and its fundamental importance to the Spartan state. Religion had been his means of self-protection against fellow-Spartans while in exile, at the sanctuary of Lykaion; religious ceremony was likewise his medium of self-defence on returning to his city.
71 As to the importance of prophecy in general among Spartans, does there remain any reason why the convergent testimony of Herodotos, Thucydides, Xenophon and later Greek writers should be accorded unusually little critical attention, or respect? In the light of Sparta’s talent for official lying and myth-making, one might wonder whether the image of a uniquely pious Sparta was itself a consciously false instrument of Spartan foreign policy; whether opponents were expected to be demoralised by the thought that, in Herodotos’ words, the Spartans ‘put considerations of the gods before considerations of men’ (V, 63; cf. IX, 7). But such an idea would require the further assumption that Spartan authorities, while possibly cynical themselves, supposed other Greeks, at least, to believe that religiously correct behaviour did lead to divine support. Moreover, much of our information on Spartan trust in divination concerns scandal and division within Sparta, matters hardly contrived to impose on outsiders an idea of Spartan superiority. Internal Spartan arguments about whether Pleistoanax had corrupted the Delphic oracle, and thereby brought on Sparta repeated divine punishment, are likely to have had a very different effect if circulated abroad. Similarly with other cases of apparent obedience to divination. Parker is quite right to ask, ‘Whose interests could it serve in 419, for instance, to summon the perioikoi for a secret expedition, march out “no one knew whither”, disband the army on the borders of Argos on the pretence that the crossing-sacrifices were adverse, and re-assemble a force for a second expedition against Argos later in the year?’ (1989, 158, citing Thuc., V, 54f.) The modern sceptic might perhaps have recourse to the idea that, while Spartans in general were privately disbelievers of divination, as individuals they tended to judge that they had better appear not to be, for fear of offending a majority opinion at Sparta which they incorrectly believed to be more pious – and that historians from other cities thus came to share in the mirage of Spartan religiosity. Such an idea could not be disproved, but a more economical hypothesis is available: that, in imputing to their own society a profound faith in divination, the Spartans were not abnormally unperceptive.
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NOTES
*. This paper owes its existence to an invitation from Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge and Carine Van Liefferinge to address the subject in a communication at Bruxelles: sine quibus non. – I am fortunate to have received criticism and advice for the paper from Paul Cartledge, Thomas Figueira, Stephen Hodkinson, Simon Hornblower, Ellen Millender and Karen Radner. I am most grateful for the improvements they have made. 1. For an example of delicate evasiveness, Fontenrose, in a general conclusion about Delphic history: ‘What effect or influence did Delphi have upon the Greek states? If we look through
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genuine responses, we must say that it had no direct and active influence upon them…’ (1978, p. 239). One notices the triple qualification (‘genuine’, ‘direct’, ‘active’): how much is being excluded thereby? Contrast PRITCHETT (1979), p. 298, 300: ‘Certainly the oracle at Delphi had immense influence’. On the (typically unavowed) reasons for modern disbelief in influential ancient divination, POWELL (2001), p. 423-7, FLOWER (2008), p. 245, JOHNSTON (2008), p. 23. 2. 1989, 156-7. Other scholars who have taken seriously evidence of Spartan regard for divination include GROTE, POPP (1957), PRITCHETT (1979) esp. chs. 1, 3, 9, HODKINSON (1983), p. 273-6, HOLLADAY and GOODMAN (1986), p. 155f., CARTLEDGE (1987), JACQUEMIN (2000), p. 102-104. 3. Thuc., VII, 50, 4 with VII, 47, 1f., 48, 4; POWELL (1979a). 4. HORNBLOWER (1992), and below, n. 44. 5. This is a prominent theme in the two most important monographs on Sparta in recent years, CARTLEDGE (1987) and HODKINSON (2000). In POWELL (1998) I examined evidence from vase-painting that the austere Spartan constitution did not antedate the second half of the sixth century. 6. Thuc., V, 16, 2, cf. Hdt., VI, 58f. with PARKER (1989), p. 169 n. 52. 7. See below, p. 76. 8. The kings as priests of Zeus: Hdt., VI, 56; as having general charge of religion: Ar., Pol., 1285a. Cf. PARKER (1989), p. 154f. 9. Hdt., VI, 57. 10. MILLENDER (2002), p. 2: ‘Most of the disparate information on Sparta included in the Histories clusters around the figures of the Spartan kings and renders Herodotus’ portrait of Sparta essentially a series of royal biographical sketches.’ 11. Thuc., V, 63, 2. King Leotykhidas, exiled from Sparta half an century earlier, had also been subject to the demolition of his residence: Hdt., VI, 72. 12. POWELL (1999). 13. Xen., Hell. I, 6, 36f.; IV, 3, 13f.; POWELL (1989). 14. E.g. PARKE – WORMELL (1956), vol. 1 p. 167f., vol. 2 p. 44. 15. We might even speculate that one reason for Sparta’s possibly inventing a Delphic prophecy about Leonidas was respectful rivalry with Athens, in the matter of strategic prophecy. Rivalry is implicit at Hdt., VIII, 124, where in parallel with the crown of olive given to Themistokles by the Spartans, we hear that a similar crown, but also the aristeia in respect of the naval campaign, were given by Sparta to its own man, Eurybiadas. 16. The point is rightly emphasised by FLOWER (2008), p. 94f. 17. Aristotle knew of a Spartan tradition according to which foreigners had been admitted as citizens, in the state’s early days: Pol., 1270a. One wonders whether the acute oliganthropy of Sparta in his time had commended a change in policy towards granting citizenship, and thus a correspondingly different picture of Spartan history to serve as precedent. 18. PARKE (1967), p. 176, citing Wilamowitz. 19. FLOWER (2008), p. 80f., well observes that Hegesistratos here is represented not as the prophet of harm to Sparta but as the actual cause of it. 20. FLOWER (2008), p. 215: ‘No aspect of Greek divination has drawn as much scholarly attention as Delphic oracles.’ 21. Thucydides comments at II, 28 on the apparent causal role of the moon in solar eclipses. At VII, 50, 4 he may well hint at a similar physical explanation of lunar eclipses. Plut., Peric., 32, 2 seems to show that divination concerning the heavenly bodies was under challenge from physical theories, near the end of Perikles’ life. Plut., Nic., 23, 2 attributes even to the mass of Nikias’ Athenian contemporaries in 413 a belief that the moon was somehow responsible for solar eclipses. 22. Plut., Mor. (= Apoph. Lac.), 224e; cf. Cic., De Divinatione II, 62.
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23. Hdt., VI, 66 for Kleomenes believed to have suborned the Pythia to undermine his fellow king Damaratos; on bribery imputed to Pleistoanax, see below. 24. Theognis, 805-10, with FLOWER (2008), p. 218f. 25. STEPHENSON – FATOOHI (2001). 26. Hdt., V, 63 for ‘the Athenians’ stating that their own Alkmaionid aristocrats had been successful in bribing the Pythia, who accordingly urged Sparta to free Athens, that is, to evict the Peisistratid tyranny. 27. Perikles, in an anti-Spartan context, is shown implicitly rebutting the charge of πολυπραγμοσύνη against Athens, by refusing to give a positive value to an opposite term, ἀπράγμων: Thuc., II, 40, 2. 28. On the point of a ‘truly public’ sacrifice, we should not be misled by Xenophon’s use of the term ὁ βουλόμενοs. In an Athenian context that phrase might indeed suggest that any citizen was free to participate. But in the Spartan context described here by Xenophon there is no mention of rank-and-file attendance at the sacrifice; the term ὁ βουλόμενοs is applied only to ‘generals from the (allied) cities’. 29. E.g. Ι, 10; ΙΙ, 12f.; ΙΙΙ, 1; ΙV, 7; V, 2; V, 5; VI, 1; VI, 4; VII, 1; X, 4; XV, 1. 30. MASS-OBSERVATION (1947), p. 60: the credit of astrology was highest, affecting almost half of the sampled population, when secular forecasts were bleakest. As the prospect of winning the war improved, avowed faith in astrology fell off sharply. 31. Thuc., V, 103, 2; Antiphon, 5, 81; Xen., Hipparch., 9, 8f. I cannot agree with the view of FLOWER (2008), p. 17, that Thucydides does not reflect the general Greek tendency to perceive omens in times of crisis. 32. Greek divination should not, however, be seen as simply therapeutic: Thucydides’ account of the last days of the Sicilian expedition shows that popular religious prophecies then conduced to self-recrimination, pessimism and a fear of imminent destruction: POWELL (1979a), p. 28f. On Sparta similarly, PARKER (1989), p. 161. 33. Plut., Ages., 32 with CARTLEDGE (1987), p. 164. 34. Hdt., VI, 82 for the trial of Kleomenes, at the initiative of ‘his personal enemies’ (ἐχθροί) on a charge of having been bribed into favouring Argos; VI, 66, 74 for the influence at Sparta of the belief that Kleomenes had by trickery at Delphoi contrived the exile of his fellow-dyarch Damaratos. 35. POWELL (1998). 36. Plut., Ages., 1. 37. Xen., Ages., 1, 26; Hell. ΙΙΙ, 4, 17. 38. Hdt., VI, 60; BERTHIAUME (1976). 39. On the importance for manteis of being descended from a line of such prophets, FLOWER (2008), p. 45-47. 40. HODKINSON (2000), p. 417f. for ancient references and modern analysis. CARTLEDGE (1976) argues for a connection between the seismicity of Lakonia and the strength of Spartan interest in divination. 41. Compare the phrase of Xenophon used of a later occasion: ‘the god shook the earth’, Hell. IV, 7, 4. 42. Thuc., 1, 118, 3; 123, 1f.; ΙΙ, 54, 4f. In the first passage Thucydides will not take responsibility for the reality of the prophecy, but uses the qualifying phrase ‘as is said’ (ὡς λέγεται). In the third-mentioned passage he writes of those who ‘knew’ of it (τοῖς εἰδόσιν). If, at least for a time, Thucydides who had been a well-placed Athenian politician in the early 420s was unsure of the reality of this most significant contemporary utterance of Delphoi, we should conclude that there probably existed very widespread ignorance and doubt about prophecies from the most esteemed shrine of Greece.
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43. Plutarch, who was to be a priest of Delphoi in the second century AD, adds that Sparta on this occasion recorded the privilege of prior consultation, promanteia, which it thereby secured in an inscription on the side of a bronze statue of a wolf at Delphoi. Athens riposted by inscribing the wolf’s other side with a reference to promanteia of its own: Peric., 21. 44. Compare the new, and bare, information which Thucydides gives at 8.1.1, after reporting in very great detail the history of the Sicilian expedition: that oracle-specialists, manteis and others employing divination had ‘made the Athenians hope (ἐπήλπισαν) to capture Sicily’ (cf. POWELL 1979a). Hornblower rightly describes this as ‘a huge analepsis’ (2009, 257). Our knowledge of Greek divination suffers, as Hornblower observes, from ‘the many religious silences of Thucydides’ (1991, 183). He writes elsewhere (1992, 170), ‘The religious silences of Thucydides are in their way quite as scandalous as the political silences of Xenophon, for which he is so often denounced.’ While not radically disagreeing, we may note that Thucydides’ clearly-signalled disrespect for political divination (on which POWELL 1979b) prevents any suspicion that he might have written, as Herodotos and later Greeks may have done, to commend religious prophecy as a guide to action. That Thucydides tends – for the history of Athens perhaps more thoroughly than for that of Sparta – to play down divination, and to admit its influence through gritted teeth, has the useful effect, perhaps intended, of confirming for the reader the reality of such credulous behaviour as he does record. 45. POWELL (1980). 46. Plut., Peric., 22f.; Ar., Clouds, 859 with scholia. 47. The episode recalls Herodotos’ account of repeated instructions to Sparta from an earlier bribed Pythia, to eject the Peisistratid tyranny; above, n. 26. 48. If each time the only response they got concerned the restoration of Pleistoanax, one effect would have been to deprive them of advice on whatever other matters they were anxiously raising. 49. POWELL (1989). The commander of the Ten Thousand in Asia, Cheirisophos, who is, thanks to Xenophon, one of the most closely described of all Spartans, is shown appealing repeatedly to direct perception: ‘You can see’, ‘Look … and see’, ‘… as you see’, ‘… you can see’ (Xen., Anab. III, 4, 39). 50. POWELL (1980). On Spartan attention to timing, RICHER (2007), p. 246, well adduces the report of Diogenes Laertius (II, 1) that in the the sixth century Sparta sought to acquire sundials from Anaximander. 51. Thuc., I, 61f.; I, 64, 2f., with POWELL (1980), p. 99. 52. POWELL (1979), p. 25-31. 53. Nik., 23 with POWELL (1979), p. 27f. 54. FLOWER (2008), p. 139 on the significant disappearance from Aristophanic comedy of references to chresmologoi after the failure of the Sicilian expedition. For renewed Athenian regard for military divination after the Peloponnesian War, see the epigraphic evidence concerning Sthorys of Thasos, granted Athenian citizenship in recognition of prophecy given before the Battle of Knidos (394): IG II², 17 with (e.g.) JACQUEMIN (2000), p. 101. 55. POWELL (2006). 56. BOMMELAER (1981), no. 15; CARTLEDGE (1987), p. 35f., 82-5. 57. That Lysandros sent his fastest ships on each occasion to follow the withdrawing enemy fleet, to observe the Athenians’ subsequent disembarkation and then to report, could have been done, as Xenophon indeed suggests, in a defensive spirit – to ensure that Sparta’s naval crews only disembarked once it was safe, once Athens’ own crews had done so (Hell. II, 1, 24). 58. We thus have another statement in Spartan style, combining a broad assertion about the past with claim about a single exception. Indeed, in this short chapter of Thucydides two further statements allege that behaviour of the Spartans was by their standards unusual or unprecedented: V, 63, 2, 4.
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59. For references to this and to the rest of the present paragraph, see POWELL (2006). 60. This episode is the subject of a masterly narrative and analysis in CARTLEDGE (1987), p. 110-15. 61. In Xenophon’s account, the young Leotykhidas gives away his case by implicitly accepting the claim that Agis refused to acknowledge him, and by arguing instead that the word of his mother should be believed in that she ‘knew much better than he [Agis] did’; Hell. III, 3, 2. 62. Contrast How and Wells (on Hdt., IX, 37, ad loc.) who state, concerning the sufferings Sparta might impose on the condemned seer Hegesistratos, ‘the Greeks did not use torture except for slaves’. The reality of Kinadon’s conspiracy is doubted by Lazenby, for whom it ‘may… have been little more than a smokescreen laid by the Spartan authorities to obscure the circumstances which had led to Agesilaos’ coming to the throne’ (1997, 438). 63. The very brief account of the conspiracy given by Polyainos (II, 14, 1; drawing on Ephoros? – DAVID [1979], p. 244) states explicitly that Kinadon was tortured and that his fellow-conspirators were put to death. 64. POWELL (2006), p. 293. 65. GROTE (vol. 10, ch. 78, p. 165) describes Xenophon’s account of the battle as ‘obscure, partial, and imprinted with that chagrin which the event occasioned to him’. 66. David suggests that communication between fellow-seers may have been the route by which Agesilaos’ mantis came to know of a plot involving the seer Tisamenos (1979, p. 254). Jehne argues attractively that Xenophon used his narrative of the sacrifices, by which the gods revealed the plot to Agesilaos, to suggest that the latter’s succession to the kingship had indeed been legitimate and as such was divinely approved (1995, p. 170-172). 67. However, GROTE (vol. 9, ch. 73, p. 319) names him among ‘malcontents formidable both from energy and position’. 68. For Xenopeitheia and her sister Khryse, Ath., 609b with CARTLEDGE (1987), p. 150, 375 and POWELL (1999), p. 409f. 69. The best modern discussion is that of CARTLEDGE(1987), p. 94-96. Also valuable are BOMMELAER (1981), p. 223-225; HAMILTON (1979), p. 88f., 92-96. 70. CARTLEDGE (1987), p. 152 for references and discussion. 71. Possibly this may be why Xenophon himself, the king’s eulogist, does not mention the affair, though cf.Hell. III, 4, 7 with CARTLEDGE (1987), p. 94. 72. Vol. 9, p. 303f. 73. See, however, VAN WEES (1999), p. 23. 74. The dates used here are, for the most part, those of Cartledge in his Spartan king-lists: (1987), p. 101. 75. For examples of such modern hindsight, POWELL (2008), p. 21f. 76. On the meanings of these royal funerals see PARKER (1989), p. 152f.; MILLENDER (2002), p. 2-11, and above all CARTLEDGE (1987), p. 104f., 332-42.
ABSTRACTS
Divination forms an unexpectedly high proportion of our total information on Sparta’s politics, internal and external. It should be studied diachronically, as well as generically. To abstract it from secular and political context would conceal both causes and effects of religious credulity. We read that Sparta’s hereditary dyarchs, the state’s chief generals, were appointed, controlled
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and deposed according to the interpretation of omens and oracles. Grand omens in particular were respected, such as earthquake or a succession of military failures. This was in keeping with the Spartan bias in favour of events that all could perceive. Sparta’s kings made famous and apparently extravagant claims to have privileged ancient links with the gods. But by studying the political vulnerability of the kingship, we see these religious pretentions as defensive, the most effective shield for an institution under threat.
La divination constitue de façon inattendue une part importante de notre information sur la politique de Sparte, tant intérieure qu’extérieure. On peut l’étudier tant de façon diachronique que dans une perspective générique. L’abstraire de son contexte séculier et politique reviendrait à occulter à la fois les causes et les effets d’une crédulité religieuse. Nous voyons que les deux rois héréditaires de Sparte, les généraux en chef de l’État, étaient désignés, contrôlés et déposés selon l’interprétation des présages et des oracles. Des présages exceptionnels étaient tout particulièrement respectés, comme les tremblements de terre ou une succession de revers militaires. Les Spartiates avaient tendance à mettre en valeur les événements qui étaient visibles de tous. Les rois de Sparte ont avancé de célèbres revendications, apparemment extravagantes, à entretenir d’anciens liens privilégiés avec les dieux. Mais en étudiant la vulnérabilité politique de la royauté, nous constatons que ces prétentions religieuses avaient une portée défensive et formaient une sorte de bouclier très efficace pour une institution menacée.
AUTHOR
ANTON POWELL [email protected]
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Thetis and Cheiron in Thessaly
Emma Aston
1. Introduction
1 In his Kernos article of 1995, Philippe Borgeaud made a convincing assertion of the mythical and religious connections binding the sea-goddess Thetis with the Sepias promontory in Thessaly.1 This presented another dimension of a figure most commonly viewed through her Iliadic persona as the grieving mother of Achilles. It also valuably brought to the fore the cuttle-fish associations of Thetis, which tend to be neglected in scholarship but which, argued Borgeaud, are important in understanding her Thessalian divine persona.
2 However, much more can be said about Thessalian Thetis. It is the contention of this article that the most fruitful inquiry examines Thetis not as an isolated entity but in combination with another important figure in Thessalian myth and cult: the centaur Cheiron. An examination of their relationship may shed much light both on the two deities in question and on the complex of myth and worship which existed in the Pelion area of Thessaly, an area which remains largely unexplored in modern historiography.
3 It would be an oversimplification of their complicated personalities to view Thetis and Cheiron solely through a pattern of strict opposition. However, this paper argues for the value of studying them in combination with an eye to their differences. The surest justification for this joint treatment is that, in myth, they are seldom completely apart. Clearly they were considered together in mythological narrative, so the combination is not an artificial one, imposed on the ancient material. Iconographically, they represent two different ways of expressing the same idea: the incorporation of animal and human physical components within a single entity, Cheiron through hybridism, Thetis through shape-changing. It is also true to say that very often in Greek myth and cult it is contrasts which carry the burden of symbolic expression. These contrasts are never black and white, they are not neat antitheses; but they do hold one (not the) key to understanding abiding ancient attitudes and preoccupations. Some such preoccupations come to light when we examine the way in which the characters of Thetis and Cheiron are differentiated, as differentiated they are, with a force which
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reveals their combined symbolic valency. This paper traces what could be seen as a hostile mythographical tradition in the characterisation of Thetis, one which runs parallel with the depiction of Cheiron as a paragon of various crucial virtues.
4 Thessaly is a rich land in myth. It is rich in heroes, such as Achilles, Admetos, Asklepios, Jason, Pelias, Peleus, Peirithoös, Protesilaos. As homeland of the Aiakid clan which produced Achilles, it is a significant backdrop to the Trojan war. So Thessalian names would have been part of the epic and the oral traditions, and in this dimension the region does not lack glory. At the same time, these myths do not come to us from Thessalian sources, and from the ancient historian’s point of view Thessalian culture and society remain difficult to reconstruct. Just as Borgeaud in his work on Pan has expressed despair of ever attaining a vision of the ‘real Arkadia’,2 so we must here resign ourselves to being unable to establish myths as Thessalian products, and must acknowledge the certainty of perceptions and stories being imposed on the Thessalian setting from without. However, the Thessalian setting is of the greatest significance. One major aim of this paper is to shed further light on an aspect of Thetis that runs alongside, and rather counter to, the pervasive characterisation of epic, and to reveal her as a component within a strong network of intertwined mythology set around Pelion and the Magnesian littoral. That this Thetis is not ‘authentically’ or ‘purely’ Thessalian is in fact to be welcomed, as it allows one to regard the region within a much broader structure of story-telling.
2. The juxtaposition of Thetis and Cheiron in myth and cult
5 As a preliminary to assessing the thematic significance of their association, I shall lay out the main points of connection. In myth, the two deities are firmly linked. The chief elements may be enumerated as follows: • One (rare) tradition makes Thetis Cheiron’s daughter3 in lieu of the more commonly found Hippe. • Cheiron advises Peleus on the capture of Thetis on the shore.4 • The wedding of Peleus and Thetis takes place in Cheiron’s cave.5 (Cheiron gives Peleus an ash spear as a wedding present.)6
6 When Thetis leaves Peleus, the infant Achilles is consigned to the centaur’s care, and receives from him tuition in various skills (for sources, see below). So strong are the Thetis-Peleus-Cheiron links that one scholar has even posited the existence of a lost epic, the Peleis, treating the episodes of the couple’s wedding and the childhood of Achilles, and Cheiron’s benign contributions.7 This is impossible to prove, especially the title, but is not on the face of it unlikely.
7 The cult connections are less tangible: they rest largely on proximity. Thetis’ worship on Sepias is mentioned in Herodotos,8 but a degree of uncertainty remains as to quite where this promontory was, though we know it to have been on the ‘arm’ of Pelion.9 However, it is hard to ascertain whether Thetis had an actual temenos in this area – as a single late source suggests10 – or whether the area was simply sacred to her in a less minutely defined way. The latter is more likely, and does not of course preclude worship; it would be a gross misrepresentation of Greek religious behaviour as a whole to suggest that it always took place within man-made structures.
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8 Cheiron too seems to have enjoyed a general cultic association with a patch of territory, in his case the summit of Mount Pelion, with whose herbal lore he is thoroughly enmeshed. However, unlike Thetis, we also have a specific structure, though a natural one: the cave where, in myth, Cheiron dwelt, and in cult, he was worshipped. The Hellenistic geographer Herakleides tells of a ritual which brought an annual procession of young men to the mountain wrapped in new fleeces; they probably visited both the Cheironion – the cave of Cheiron – and the sanctuary of Zeus Akraios.11 Herakleides also provides another detail of Cheiron’s role as a deity in this region: his association with a local clan of healers.12 This and other features of the Pelion cult we shall return to at a later stage. Here it is only necessary to note the close proximity within Thessaly of Cheiron’s Pelion cult site and Thetis’ Sepias one.13 It will be shown in section ii. that geographical proximity of myth and cult is matched by a thematic closeness, albeit one which tends to consist largely of contrast.
9 However, it should be noted before proceeding that Thetis’ cult seems to have had a dimension which Cheiron’s did not. The evidence for this is not unproblematic, but it is suggestive. In his Heroikos, the third century AD author Philostratus describes an annual theoria conducted by the Thessalians to the Troad, where they perform offerings to Achilles, first as to a deceased hero and then as to an immortal god. The ritual involves an evocation of Thetis, which will be discussed further below. However, it is important to acknowledge that Thetis’s worship exists on a far broader scale than that of Cheiron. On the one hand, Philostratus presents the theoria as being pan-Thessalian, taking us out of the Magnesian context of Thetis’ and Cheiron’s proximity; on the other, the journey to the Troad takes us out of Thessaly altogether and into the grand scope of epic. This is a sphere into which Cheiron’s cult seems never to have strayed.
10 The Heroikos text will be significant at other stages of this discussion, and so it seems advisable to treat some of its difficulties now, in particular the fraught question of whether or not it reflects genuine Thessalian ritual practice as it purports to do.
11 Scholars of the Second Sophistic rightly treat the Heroikos as a piece of literary sophistication on a par with the Life of Apollonios, with which it almost certainly shares authorship. As Bowie, Anderson, Rutherford and others have demonstrated,14 the piece is thematically and stylistically enmeshed with the rest of the Philostratean corpus in all its subtlety. At the same time, there have been several attempts to reveal it as a reflection of genuine cultic practices, beliefs and sites in existence at the time of its creation. The two approaches, though typically divergent in motivation, are not of course incompatible: clearly both literary artifice and a reflection of certain realities are present in the text. It is noted by Christopher Jones that the cult-site of Protesilaos at Elaious is depicted with quite some loyalty to what was actually there;15 and though Philostratus’ depiction of Achilles’ cult in the Euxine departs somewhat from the fascinating archaeological and epigraphic record, it is by no means baseless fantasy.The tomb of Achilles in the Troad, central to the section of the Heroikos here discussed, is mentioned as early as Herodotos.16 Philostratus was clearly interested in the actual state of hero-cult, and collects much material by way of illustration. Scholars have successfully extrapolated religious practice from other parts of the Heroikos; it can be done.17 The text, for all that we may call some of its details into question, is probably not solely a flight of intellectual fancy.
12 Moreover, other evidence suggests at least a Hellenistic pedigree for the rites described. An inscription re-analysed quite recently by Bruno Helly and dated by him, soundly, to the mid second century BC testifies to regular and significant cultural contact between
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the Thessalian city of Larissa and the Troad.18 Though Helly’s attempt to read the context of the inscription in the light of Philostratus’ account of the annual theoria is not without problems, we can be sure that the narrative of the Heroikos is based on a real and longstanding rapport between Thessaly and the Troad. In my view, Philostratus is likely to have added some details, but not to have invented the ritual entirely. We cannot discount the possibility that Thetis’ rôle was partly or indeed wholly invented by Philostratus, but even if this is so it accords very completely with the mythology surrounding Thetis’ contribution to Achilles’ immortality, in particularly as reflected in the Aithiopis of Arktinos (on which see further below).
13 At the same time, the Heroikos plainly has aims beyond the accurate re-telling of rather recherché religious practice. The Heroikos is essentially a work about epic: about memory and about the role of the poet in preserving kleos and continuity. (This is of course quite in keeping with the anxieties about loss and decay which characterise the period in which Philostratus worked.)19 The ritual in honour of Achilles may not be the author’s creation, but it does accord with the preoccupations of the text (hence its inclusion). In addition, the ritual itself must have been one of those that appear to have been fuelled by epic to a large extent.20 This immediately lifts it out of the purely Thessalian context, out of the realm of local cult, into the pan-Hellenic dimension of poetry. That Achilles and Thetis had their roots in Thessalian myth is quite probable; that the details in the Heroikos give us a snap-shot of uncontaminated Thessalian custom is not.
3. Mobility and fixity (sea and mountain)
14 Thetis is famous for slipping away. She is like other sea divinities in this regard, forever eluding the grasping hands of terrestrial men, though what they want from her is not prophecy (as in the case of Proteus) but sex: once it has been determined by Zeus that Thetis should be the bride of Peleus, the hero struggles to catch her and hold her on the Sepias shore. Her evasiveness is expressed through a rapid and dramatic series of transformations, which caught the imagination of countless ancient vase-painters and writers and is, as a consequence, a famous mythological episode today. However, it can be shown that this episode is just one aspect of the extreme mobility of Thetis, and that her mobility is that of a being with only the lightest of links to the shore.
15 In the Heroikos, when the Thessalian theoria reaches the Troad and begins to prepare for its offerings to Achilles, the hero’s mother is called upon with a hymn which ends with the following words:21 Come to this lofty hill In quest of the burnt offerings with Achilles. Come without tears, come with Thessaly: Dark Thetis, Pelian Thetis.
16 There is much here that is of interest, but here I wish to highlight the manner of Thetis’ hoped-for participation. Thetis is not herself Thessalian; as a daughter of Nereus she comes from the depths of the sea. However, she is here described as Peleia, which could be interpreted as a reference either to Pelion or to Peleus; either way it links her with her career in Thessaly. She is also implored to come ‘with Thessaly’ or ‘in company with Thessaly’. This phrase is cryptic, but the overall effect is to designate her as one of the vital Thessalian ‘products’ which the theoroi bring with them to the Troad: others
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include wood from Pelion and water from the river Spercheios. Achilles himself is different. As the hymn itself says, he belongs half to the Troad where his tomb is, and half to the Euxine where he lives as an immortal god;22 none of him is Thessalian. Also significant here is the way in which Thetis can, whatever her origins, be expected to turn up instantaneously in a completely different location. Of course, all gods can do this; but Thetis has a special mode of arrival in many narratives: emerging out of the sea.
17 She does this most famously perhaps in the Iliad. On several occasions in the action of the poem, Thetis comes out of the sea onto the Trojan shore to communicate with Achilles: first in response to his anguish at Agamemnon’s theft of Briseis; second to console him for the death of Patroklos; third to bring him the miraculous armour of Hephaistos.23 Grief and consolation are the chief themes.24 The arrival of Thetis on the scene each time is one of miraculous swiftness; she hears his weeping despite the distance of air and water, and emerges from the sea cloaked in mist. Moreover, we are given insights into where she is supposed to be coming from. On the first two occasions of her arrival on land, she is described as sitting in the depths of the sea (benthos halos) beside her father the Halios Gerôn when she hears her son’s lamentation and rises to go to him; on the second we have the added details of a crowd of fellow-Nereids sitting about her also. The space in which this marine court resides is also, in the example in Book XVIII, described as an argupheon speos – literally a ‘silver-shining cave’. The word speos in almost all other instances of its use in ancient texts is used to refer to terrestrial grottoes, such as serve the Kyklopes as homes.25 It is striking to find Thetis and her companions occupying a speos in the sea; perhaps it derives from the abiding association of caves with nymphs in Greek thought.
18 Another example of Thetis performing her swift visitation from the sea is to be found in Apollonios’ Argonautika (IV, 842-865) where she comes to advise Peleus and through him the other Argonauts. Interestingly, although here her emergence from the sea is, as usual, depicted as miraculously fast, she herself describes her prior movement within the sea, finding and enlisting the aid of her Nereid sisters, as long and arduous (lines 838-839). So the marine environment does not preclude the difficulties of travel, if effort is what the poet wishes to emphasise; but it does always facilitate rapid, almost epiphanic, arrivals onto the shore. The sea, therefore, does not seem entirely to be bound by the usual rules of space and distance: it is a flexible junction allowing access onto all shores equally. This makes Thetis easy to summon. This is plainly the quality which the Thessalian sacrificers on the shore of Troy hope to make use of when they invoke her. It also makes Thetis a deity who is potentially very present and accessible. However, it has another side: her unusually dominant ability to absent herself, to be examined further later in this article.
19 So Thetis has two spheres of existence. On the one hand, she dwells at the bottom of the sea, from which she may emerge wherever she wishes. On the other, she is, in cult and in the Heroikos’ representation, of – or strongly associated with – Pelion. In myth, she has four spheres; the sea, her place of origin; the Sepias shore, where she is caught and subdued by Peleus; Mount Pelion itself, where her marriage is conducted; and Pharsalos, where she and Peleus live once married and where she bears her children. Of course, the sea is the only place which has a lasting claim on her presence, and it is to the sea that she inevitably returns. The land is a place for brief sojourns: in Ovid’s
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retelling, she has come out onto the shore for a nap when Peleus assaults her.26 It is not a zone in which any sea-divinity is prepared to stay on a permanent basis.
20 To return, however, to the motif of Thetis’ arrival from the sea, and to her marine mobility generally, we can see that it places her at significant variance from Cheiron, the dweller on the mountain. Whereas Thetis is summoned, and arrives, Cheiron stays where he is, and is visited. This happens both in myth and (probably, though the evidence is not uncontroversial) in cult.
21 In myth, infant heroes are brought to Cheiron on Pelion. The roll-call is extraordinary: Achilles, Aristaios, Aktaion, Asklepios, Jason: these are some of his famous charges.27 He ushers them from infancy into adulthood, equipping them with various essential heroic skills, but he himself is astonishingly constant in terms of age and state. We are given narratives to explain his birth, but hear next to nothing about his youth or upbringing; maturity, with its attendant qualities of sophia and sôphrosunê, is Cheiron’s natural and unwavering condition. They are constant as his location is constant; he affects change, but does not undergo it; he inspires movement, but does not himself move. The exception to this is of course his death, discussed below.
22 There is a form of ritual counterpart to this motif of the young heroes’ sojourn with Cheiron: the pilgrimage described by Herakleides, mentioned above. The relevant passage is as follows:28 On the peaks of the mountain’s top there is the cave called the Cheironion and a hieron of Zeus Aktaios, to which, at the rising of the Dog Star, at the time of greatest heat, the most distinguished of the citizens and those in the prime of life ascend, having been chosen in the presence of the priest, wrapped in thick new fleeces. So great is the cold on the mountain.
23 It is very important not to try to make this rather cursory description of the ritual say or mean things it does not. It does not expressly state that the young men taking part come to worship Cheiron. Indeed, ἐφ’ ὃ on the second line clearly states that the main destination is the hieron of Zeus Aktaios (usually corrected to Akraios, a modification about which I have some doubt but shall maintain for the convenience of the current discussion). About the cult of Zeus on this site we currently know next to nothing. As to Cheiron’s significance here, although he is not the chief recipient of the rite, it may plausibly be argued that it, and he, contribute massively to the nature and the symbolic valency of the ritual’s destination, the mountaintop.
24 The dominant theme of the ritual is changes of state, symbolised in the donning of fleeces, which entails a dramatic and programmatic transformation: the noblest of the citizens don the garb of the rustic and the primitive. Since fleeces and caves share this quality, the visitors to the area of the Cheironion are modelling themselves on their destination, and undergoing transformation in parallel with their spatial movement away from the cultivated plain and up into the wild territory of the oros, as Buxton rightly observes.29 They are also, in a sense, stepping back into primeval time.
25 To relate this back to Cheiron’s mythical visitors, his young charges, two things must be said. First, myth and ritual are both similar and interestingly divergent. Whereas the infant heroes who go to Cheiron in myth are transformed by him into adults with the trappings of aristocratic paideia (such as hunting and music), the real-life visitors of the fleece ritual reverse the process, losing the outer manifestations of their civilisation and going backwards in time. However, though this aspect of the rite is not treated by Herakleides, we can assume that the Thessalians afterwards don their usual clothing and
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return to their ordered lives on the plain. Perhaps it is this, the aftermath of the visit, which is analogous to the paideia and introduction to the life of the civilised human community which Cheiron gives to his mythic charges. However, it must also be stressed that the ritual is not a rite of passage for adolescents. Cheiron is not assisting in the progress of young Thessalians into adulthood, as he does in myth: the performers of the fleece ritual are explicitly described as already having attained full adulthood. There is therefore not a complete and exact mapping of ritual onto myth.
26 That said, it is worth briefly noting that Cheiron may have been associated with adolescent transitions in another cult site. Philippson has argued, in a discussion which encourages tentative credence, that Cheiron was worshipped on Thera, near the temple of Apollo Karneios, in a kourotrophic capacity: his name appears in a seventh-century dedicatory inscription30 alongside names such as Lokaia which are associated with childbirth and -rearing, and there is also some evidence for his involvement in local ephebic rites.31 This would suggest that his excellent record of affecting human transitions has an echo in his cultic function. However, the Theran material remains highly speculative, and as for the Pelion site, there is no evidence of rites of passage, though this does not by itself mean they did not occur.
27 So, to conclude this section, it may be seen that whereas Thetis is a mobile being who may be coaxed into a brief contact with the shore but who has no permanent residence there, Cheiron is a fixity on his mountain-top and is visited there accordingly in both myth and cult. (His only mythical departure from the cave leads, in the end, to his death, as if the cave is a place he cannot return to having once left it.)32 He does not change, but he effects change in others; he himself is static, but he effects movement and travel. Thetis, by comparison, is changeable and mobile. One final point must be made to modify this contrast, however, and it is a point which in fact narrows the distance between Cheiron and Thetis in a revealing way, reminding us that no symbolic contrast should ever be read as absolute or undeviating.
28 Cheiron’s cave is a place of both real and mythical visits, true, but its inhabitant is prone to a special kind of uncertainty regarding his presence. In another article,33 I have shown that Cheiron is often depicted in the ancient literature as a departed, absent being; also, that this is reflected in his cult persona as the ancestor or fore- runner of a line of healers, a role which, while it emphasises his importance, also entails his supercession. This is in marked contrast with heroes such as Asklepios and Trophonios whose cult sites are marked by a sense of heightened personal residency.34 The implications of this for the fleece-ritual are striking: perhaps the Thessalians are visiting not so much Cheiron as a monument to his erstwhile, his mythical, presence.
29 This does not, however, negate the difference between Cheiron and the supremely mobile Thetis. We just have to acknowledge that both might, in their different ways, have a tendency towards questionable presence at their places of worship. Another, related, shared feature is that both are associated not with highly specific and artificially demarcated zones but with more general and natural ones: Cheiron with Pelion (though with the cave as prime focus) and Thetis with the Sepias peninsula. Neither’s worship is centred on built structures; neither has a strictly bounded temenos. However, the difference resides in the two types of topography. Whereas the mountain is a fixed point to which people may and do travel, which does not move but which causes movement, the sea is a fluid, multi-directional junction allowing for almost limitless arrival and departure.
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4. Healing and pestilence
30 This paper stays on the subject of symbolic topography for the next section, which will demonstrate that while Cheiron’s divine powers embody the healing plants associated with Mount Pelion, Thetis can represent a more malignant property of the sea.
31 Cheiron, Pelion and the mountain’s native healing herbs form an inseparable triad in the works of many ancient authors. This is reflected especially strongly in a fragment of the Hellenistic author Nicander’ Theriaka, which gives the following medical instruction:35 Choose first the medicinal root of Cheiron, Which carries the name of the centaur, Kronos’ son; Cheiron once Discovered and took note of it on a snowy ridge of Pelion. It is encircled by waving leaves like sweet marjoram, And its flowers are golden in appearance. Its root, at the Surface and not deep, resides in the grove of Pelethronios.
32 Cheiron, then, is the mythical discoverer of a major natural resource, and a form of culture-hero. This plainly accords with his healing persona among the Magnesians. He gives his name to the plant called ‘Cheironeion’, whose properties are described by Theophrastos: it is used to cure the bites of snakes, spiders and other venomous creatures.36
33 So Cheiron in a sense embodies the healing properties of Mount Pelion itself, in the form of its native herbs. Thetis and the sea, however, have quite another quality in this regard. For the most striking expression of this difference one must return to the Heroikos, and to the section in which the hero Protesilaos (his words relayed by the Thracian vine-dresser to his Phoenician interlocutor) describes the anger of Achilles against the Thessalians when the latter have neglected – or rather, downgraded – the sacrifices performed in the Troad.37 The passage runs (it opens with the words of Protesilaos):38 “When I perceived that he was angry with the Thessalians over the offerings to the dead, I said, ‘For my sake, Achilles, disregard this.’ But he was not persuaded and said that he would give them some misfortune from the sea. I certainly feared that this dread and cruel hero would find something from Thetis to use against them.” As for me, my guest, after I heard these things from Protesilaos, I believed that red blights and fogs had been hurled by Achilles against the grainfields of Thessaly for destruction of their agricultural produce, since these misfortunes from the sea seemed somehow to settle upon their fruitful lands. I also thought that some of the cities in Thessaly would be flooded…
34 Here, clearly, the sea is a source of pestilence; Thetis represents the sea; and Achilles has a special ability as her son to unleash her malign marine powers on those who offend him. Some very interesting research has been done by Slatkin into Thetis’ role in the theme of Achilles’ mênis, and the two have been shown to be joined, in epic, within a potent discourse of anger and grief.39 Philostratus’ text, however, adds the special ingredient of the sea as source of blight and contagion, especially targeting agricultural achievement.
35 The pestilent properties of the sea are quite widely expressed in antiquity. For example, Plutarch in his Quaestiones Convivalium (Mor., 626f-627f) asks the question why sea-water is not used to wash clothes, and the various responses focus on the sea’s
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impurity: this is not just brine, but is also ‘coarse, earthy matter’ (τὸ τραχὺ καὶ γεῶδες) and, curiously, oil. The unclean quality of the sea is a topos in ancient attitudes which has been brilliant described by Vermeule, who argues that the sea was perceived as a repository of the unwanted, the unlucky, the contaminated.40 This is encapsulated by the remark in Euripides’ Iphigenia among the Taurians (line 1193) that ‘The sea washes away all the evils of men.’ Though it can be a source of purification for those on shore, it consequently contains all the pollution and miasma which have been poured into it. A related theme is the sea’s barrenness, probably reflected in the somewhat ambiguous Homeric word atrugetos, ‘unharvested’, from trugaô (‘gather’, ‘harvest’), if one regards it as a rough synonym of atrugês. This does not mean that the sea is devoid of products, some of them edible; indeed, it teems with fish and other creatures. However, as Buxton points out, the sea is perceived as unlike the realm of terrestrial agriculture, and cannot be treated to the same regulating, ordering human processes.41
36 An odd and isolated myth about Thetis adds a final strand to this web of associations. In a passage of Ptolemy Hephaistion (transmitted by Photios), Thetis in the form of a seal (phokos) kills Helen.42 This peculiar little story does find an echo in the myth of Phokos, the son of Aiakos and Psamathe (‘Sandy’); Phokos is conceived while his mother – trying, as Thetis tries, to escape – is in temporary seal form.43 Phokos is the brother of Peleus, and so the myth clearly has Thessalian, and indeed Thetidian, connections. We could regard Photios’ version, the seal-metamorphosis of Thetis, as being a whimsical offshoot of the Phokos story with no real heredity; even if this is so, however, it is significant to find Thetis appearing in the guise of a destructive and vengeful seal. Seals are not merely random denizens of the sea; they have a special character based largely on their mammalian nature, which sets them apart from the world of fishes. This quality is most clearly seen in Book IV of the Odyssey, in which Menelaos is forced into close proximity with seals in his attempt to capture Proteus, the old sea-god and the seals’ herdsman.
37 Two things are notable in this episode. First, the seals share the pestilent and repellent property of the sea in which they live, described above. Menelaos makes this clear when he describes lying in ambush under flayed seal-skins, a ruse provided by the helpful Eidothea.44 There was my terrible place of ambush. The hideous stench Of the brine-pastured seals distressed me terribly; For who would lie down beside a kêtos of the sea?
38 This is not just the stench of uncured skins; it is the perpetual keteos odme,45 which even Eidothea speaks ruefully of, describing living seals as ‘πικρὸν ἀποπνείουσαι ἁλὸςπολυβενθέος ὀδμήν’.46 The seals convey and embody the bitter, briny odour of the deep, which repels the human Menelaos so strongly that only a drop of Eidothea’s divine ambrosia beneath his nose makes it bearable.
39 So in a way, seals represent all that is alien and off-putting, and miasmatic, about the sea’s depths.47 At the same time, however, their warm-bloodedness is implicitly acknowledged, in Odyssey IV, by the strong parallelism between them and the terrestrial flocks who follow shepherds on land. Proteus is directly compared with a shepherd, and his behaviour bears this out, for he is an unmissable marine counterpart to Polyphemos, counting his beasts carefully by fives before lying down to sleep in their midst48 (and so, like the Cyclops, rendering himself vulnerable to a hero’s attack). The shore-cave in which he sleeps enhances the similarity. Though products of the barren
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and pestilent sea, seals can echo the fruitful herds of the pastoral realm; they are even called zatrepheas, ‘fatted’.49 However, they give neither meat nor milk, and ultimately their resemblance to the flocks of the land only serves to highlight this basic distinction. Moreover, Proteus’ spell in his shepherd’s cave is a fleeting one, and once his prophecy is spoken he slips back into the atrugetos waves.
40 These, then, are the various significances of the seal, and we can perceive the suitability of Thetis adopting that form. To sum up this section, it may be said that the sea plainly has an independent characterisation as pestilent and unfruitful;50 in addition, however, Thetis can embody or channel this quality as she does in the Heroikos. In this, once again, sea and mountain, and Thetis and Cheiron, appear strongly contrasting: one brings disease, the other provides the means to ward it off. One damages crops; the other represents extreme natural fruitfulness, though of a sort at odds with normal agriculture. This will find resonances in the next section, in which the focus shifts to the theme of kourotrophy and care of the young.
5. Thessalian Thetis and ambiguous kourotrophy
41 Both Thetis and Cheiron are explicitly connected, in myth, with the care and raising of the young. Cheiron is, as has been said, the nurse and educator of a large number of heroes; Thetis shelters and nurses the infant Dionysos when he is pursued by the impious Lykourgos, and similarly rescues the young Hephaistos after he has been cast away by his disgusted mother, Hera.51 Hephaistos himself highlights the contrast between rejecting Hera and sheltering Thetis. In so doing, he calls his mother kunôps, bitch-faced, a word which, along with variations, plays a special role in the designation of malign females in Greek myths. In the Iliad, Helen in self-reproach refers to herself several times as either kunôps or kuon (‘bitch’);52 in Hesiod’s verse, Pandora is described as having a kuneos noos, a bitch-like mind. Bitch-imagery seems in these contexts to be used of women who combine great beauty with a baneful and destructive nature; both Helen and Pandora function as scourges of the race of men, whose beauty is the key to their success in this role. Pandora especially is a perfect dolos – trick, snare – because of the discrepancy between her exterior (beautiful) and her interior (dog-like, destructive): her beauty is unreliable and does not reflect the nature within.
42 At first glance, Thetis seems to have nothing in common with such females, and indeed, in the Iliad, to be contrasted with one of them; Davies has argued, additionally, that in the poetry of Alkaios Thetis and Helen are presented as contrasting models of the maternal, good and bad respectively.53 Thus it might be said that Thetis and Cheiron share a kourotrophic function; and on one level their roles in this domain do seem rather similar. Cave and sea-bed both serve as havens for the young, and in Thetis’ case an element of rescue is added, rendering her not just a nurse but also a benefactrix. Moreover, Cheiron shares his nurturing role on Pelion with nymphs, his daughters; as Thetis, also a nymph, is in one tradition his daughter, it may be supposed that the two are to be perceived as working along very similar lines. It would be easy to turn this into a cultic label, designating both as – at root – kourotrophic deities with a fertility- dimension.
43 A closer inspection, however, will show that Cheiron and Thetis diverge significantly in terms of their mythical relation to care of the young. In this section it will be shown
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that Cheiron’s role can be seen not only as in contrast with Thetis’ but also, at times, as actually counteracting it.
44 The key to this matter lies in Thetis’ own parenthood, which emerges from the sources as a highly ambiguous and even controversial topic. Her actions and personality in the Iliad reveal little of this ambiguity, for it is out of keeping with her role within the themes of the poem, as described by Slatkin thus: In defining Thetis through a selective representation of her mythology, the Iliad makes explicit, emphatic use of her attributes as a nurturing mother – a kourotrophos – and protector. To put it another way, this aspect of Thetis’ mythology – her maternal, protective power – which is adapted by the Iliad, makes possible one of the poem’s central ideas: the vulnerability of even the greatest of the heroes.
45 Two points here are vital: first, that the poet of the Iliad selects certain parts of Thetis’ mythology (over others) to fulfil his thematic purposes; second, that the parts selected place cardinal emphasis on her role as good kourotrophos, nurturing, protecting, supporting, and ultimately grieving. In this selection, much is left out. However, other mythographic sources give us an idea of the elements not chosen by Homer, and we are able to restore the full peculiarity of Thetis as mother.
46 The first point to note is Thetis’ reluctance to wed Peleus or bear his children. This is a theme which, naturally perhaps, does not find a place in the Iliad, but which finds full expression elsewhere. In one tradition marriage to a mortal is a punishment;54 in another, it is a way of disarming the prophecy that she would produce a son greater than his father, a contingency rendering her unsuitable for a divine partner.55 Either way, Thetis’ marriage is underpinned by her unwillingness, which finds its most extreme expression in the contortions she performs to evade Peleus on the shore. So, even though Thetis is known as the mother of a glorious child, the circumstances of his conception were forced upon her very much against her will. Just as being yoked to the mortal Peleus gives Thetis displeasure, so she suffers keenly because of the mortality of her son Achilles; dusaristotokeia, the Iliad calls her, 56 referring to the cruel irony that for all her son’s excellence he will, through his inevitable death, eventually bring her misery.
47 We begin to encounter divergence, however, between the Iliadic and other traditions if we look at the episodes which prefigure the Trojan war, and which deal with the infancy of Thetis’ children, Achilles among them. One of the most famous episodes within this bracket is that in which Thetis dips Achilles in the river Styx in an attempt to make him immortal; she succeeds, but the neglected portion of his heel ultimately proves his undoing. This accords perfectly with the Iliadic motif of the divine mother doing everything she can to protect her mortal son, but ultimately encountering the inevitability of his demise.
48 However, the oldest source for the Stygian version is Statius, in the first century AD,57 and among older variants we find some rather different stories. The Hellenistic Argonautika of Apollonios has Achilles immersed in fire rather than a river, and has Thetis anoint him with ambrosia; here the only real divergence from the famous Statian story is the substances employed. Lykophron, however, adds a curious detail: that Achilles was in fact the only child of Thetis who survived the procedure; six died in the flames.58 Here Lykophron seems to be drawing on an earlier, darker theme: that of the destructive aspect of Thetis’ attempts to immortalise her children.59 In the pseudo-
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Hesiodic Aigimios, transmitted by a scholiast on the Argonautika, there occur the following lines:60 Thetis cast her children by Peleus into a cauldron of water, wanting to knowwhether they were mortal […] and when many had in fact died, Peleus grew angry and prevented Achilles from being flung into the cauldron.
49 This is rather startling. The dead children are not even the victims of botched attempts to render them immortal, as in Lykophron, but of a process of experimentation to which Achilles also would surely have fallen prey had not his father rescued him. In this version, there are only two possibilities, in the mind of Thetis, for her children: they must either be immortal or dead. Only Achilles, through his father’s intervention, is left to occupy the rather nebulous half-and-half state between mortality and divinity which is his salient feature in epic and more widely.61
50 Her relationship with Achilles takes Thetis off into another, very forceful epic discourse concerning the nature of the hero. She, like Eos (lover of Tithonos and mother of Memnon) presides over the fraught relationship between thnêtoi and athanatoi. This finds an echo in the Heroikos of Philostratus, in which she presides over the dual sacrifice to Achilles and therefore over his split nature, both mortal hero and immortal god. Of particular importance here, however, is the difference between the Thetis who champions her son in the Iliad (or the Thetis of the Aithiopis62 who eventually, after his death, installs him in divine glory on the Island of Leuke) and the Thetis who methodically scorches or boils away the mortal parts of her children, Achilles nearly included. Thessaly, it should be noted, is the setting for this dark chapter; when Achilles reaches adulthood, the location shifts into other zones, into the Troad, the Euxine, and the wide narrative sweep of epic.
51 Achilles, of course, survives Thetis’ destructive ministrations. However, the next stage of her imperfect parenting takes over: she leaves her husband and infant son and returns to the sea, her natural element. This is not so in the Homeric tradition, which does not mention a premature separation. It is impossible to say whether this is because such a story did not exist as early as that, or whether it did and the poet of the Iliad rejected it in order to preserve the closeness of his essential mother/son pairing. In any case, Thetis’ departure in Achilles’ infancy is, it should be noted, found only in post-Classical texts. The fullest treatment is in the Argonautika of Apollonios, a third century BC text, in which we find the following lines:63 In the middle of the night she used to surround her mortal child with fire and every day anoint his tender flesh with ambrosia, to make him immortal and save him from the horrors of old age. One night Peleus, leaping out of bed, saw his boy gasping in the flames and gave a terrible cry. It was a foolish thing to do. Thetis heard, and snatching up the child threw him screaming on the floor. Then, passing quickly out of the house, light as a dream and insubstantial as the air, she plunged into the sea. She was mortally offended and she never returned.
52 It seems extremely likely that accounts such as this derive something from earlier treatments of Demeter’s attempt to immortalise the infant Demophoön. In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, for example, the goddess, interrupted when the process is incomplete, throws down the child and leaves in rage, a motif with which that of Thetis’ angry departure bears obvious similarities. However, this is not a case of senseless literary borrowing. As has been said above, Slatkin asserts that Demeter and Thetis share, throughout the available material, the feature of anger and its expression, anger which can be exercised through punitive withdrawal just as much as through direct
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aggression. Black Demeter in Arkadian cult responds to offence, whether human or divine, by removing her life-giving powers from the agrarian world, leaving men starving and even the gods dismayed. Likewise, Thetis is a deity who, if thwarted, can withdraw nourishment and inflict absence.
53 Moreover, it is here that the roles of Thetis and Cheiron in the myths come together. When Thetis leaves, Peleus brings the abandoned infant Achilles to the centaur’s cave, where he receives not only education but also more fundamental care: feeding with strengthening substances and providing a close emotional bond which numerous literary narratives exploit. This reminds us of a point raised earlier: that Thetis’ marine elusiveness contrasts with the fixed point of the mountain and the cave. Thetis returns to the undulating waters of her original home, and Peleus and Achilles make the journey to Cheiron’s cave to counteract the damaging effects of her withdrawal.
54 An even more explicit opposition of their contributions is made in the admittedly peculiar and isolated narrative of Ptolemy Hephaistion, who describes the following scene:64 Thetis is burning her children in her attempt to rid them of their mortal portion, has killed several, and has just begun on Achilles, when the child, having sustained burns only to his foot, is rescued by Peleus (clearly a variant on the vulnerable heel motif). Brought in to heal the injury, Cheiron replaces the damaged ankle-joint with one taken from a dead Giant known for his swift running. This component eventually fails Achilles and causes his death, but this does not detract from the sense that Cheiron’s mythical purpose is here to repair what Thetis has harmed.65 Moreover, Achilles’ eventual death is actually caused by the flaw which Thetis’ burning has implanted within him.
55 Thetis also reflects, in her imperfect parenting, the ambiguous fruitfulness of the sea, which teems with strange life but remains unharvested, untamed, and untrustworthy. However, there is a symbolic dimension to this contrast which goes beyond the immediate contrast between the elusive, unreliable, destructive Thetis and the steadfast, healing Cheiron. Another, more profound point of divergence relates to failed and successful transitions. Thetis cannot leave her children as they are: she is compelled to attempt to usher them across the divide between mortality and divinity, an attempt which never succeeds, proving the immutability of the separation between gods and mortals. The one child who actually survives this futile attempt, Achilles, is caught forever in the awkward state of the superhuman hero with the human’s fatal vulnerability. In the end, of course, according to the Aithiopis at least, Thetis is able to affect a transition of both place and state, carrying Achilles to Leuke and to immortality, but not before he has experienced death, and not in the Thessalian portion of the saga. Cheiron, on the other hand, accomplishes his own brand of transition with unfailing success, equipping heroes with the strength and abilities needed for their lives ahead. He is not concerned to produce immortals – he is not immortal himself, in the long run – but, instead, perfect practitioners of that most ambiguous state, that of the hero: excellent above the level of normal men, but ultimately fated, like all men, to suffer death.
56 I end this section with the observation that there is another way in which Thetis is rather like the malign females of myth who are characterised by their inside/outside discrepancy. There is not space here to express fully the subtleties of what is a wide and complex discourse; however, it is worth noting that one specifically Thessalian – indeed Magnesian – aspect of Thetis connects significantly with the theme of deceptive female exteriors. This is her association with the sepia, or cuttlefish, an association rightly
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noted by Borgeaud as significant for her Thessalian mythical persona. The sepia is the most perfect evocation of the closeness of fluidity and layering in ancient thought.
57 The figure of the cuttlefish, as Borgeaud points out, is the strongest link between Thetis and the stretch of Thessalian shore which was sacred to her. The promontory was called Sepias after her adoption of the form of a sepia, we are told;66 however, in a touch of double determination, we also learn from another source, Athenaios, that the sea around that point was especially full of sepiai.67 One source tells us that the sepia was the last form adopted by Thetis in her attempt to evade the clutches of Peleus; it was also when she was in this shape that the two actually had intercourse (a somewhat lurid contingency).68
58 For the symbolic valency of the sepia, the reader is referred to the still powerful discussion by Detienne and Vernant,69 who treat it as a component within their study of the quality of mêtis, or cunning intelligence. Sepiai have, and indeed embody, mêtis, because of their extreme flexibility of form: like Thetis, they are pantomorphos; they can take almost any shape and can be confined to none. In addition, and perhaps more importantly, they have recourse to the trickery essential to mêtis: they use their black ink to conceal themselves when threatened (having first concealed it within themselves), and also when hunting their prey. This dolos is central to their adaptable, responsive nature.
59 The connection between Thetis and the sepia receives some interesting expositions. Perhaps most telling (and most tantalising) are the lines from the AttikonDeipnon of Matron, a work of which we only have small excerpts, courtesy of Athenaios’ Deipnosophistai. It is a work of satire, in which the food items at an extravagant dinner- party are introduced in absurd epic language (with much direct verbal borrowing from Homer) as combatants within a heroic martial parade, whose enemies are the diners who fall on them ravenously.70 Various ludicrous aristeiai occur. The following lines are important for the current discussion:71 And there came the daughter of Nereus, silver-footed Thetis, The fair-tressed sepia, dread goddess with mortal voice, Who alone, being a fish, knows both white and black.
60 Thetis takes her place among the other edibles as the sepia, reflecting the myth of her sepia-transformation. Clearly, aspects of the cuttle’s real-life anatomy are evoked here. The use ofeuplokamos, for example, a Homeric epithet frequently used of female characters, including Thetis, derives its humour here from the fact that it echoes the sepia’s waving tentacles.72
61 Rather more complicated is the third and final line, in which it is said of Thetis that she ‘alone, being a fish, knows both white and black.’ The sense of the participle ἐοῦσα is extremely uncertain. The phrase is often translated ‘alone of all the fishes’, and yet that sense seems to stretch the Greek itself beyond endurance.73 The participle might carry a causal sense – ‘because she is a fish’ – or equally a concessive one – ‘although she is a fish’. It is impossible to decide with any confidence, and yet one might extend cautious support to the latter, on the following grounds. Fish can occasionally be described as white, there being an example in this very text,74 though the (external) whiteness of sepiai seems to have received special notice.75 What sets the sepia apart from other sea- creatures, however, is the fact that it comprises – ‘knows’ – both white and (uniquely) black: it is white without yet contains blackness within. The sepia is arranged in
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concealing layers, black within white and, when the ink has been expelled, white within black.
62 Her association with the sepia transfers to Thetis something of this type of colour duality. She is never explicitly called ink-filled, but Borgeaud convincingly argues that the idea of inner blackness was an important element in her characterisation. He links it with the character of her element, the sea, calling her a ‘sombre déesse des profondeurs marines.’76 Slatkin’s article on Thetis’ mythological persona enhances and adds nuance to this picture. She shows that the black/white juxtaposition of Thetis’ sepia form ties her in with a strong class of goddesses for whom black expresses vengeful anger, white appeasement or benignity. The most graphic example of this is the Arkadian cult of the Eumenides who, in myth, were black when angry and vengeful, white when appeased.77 This instance suggests that in Thetis’ case white is perhaps operating as the expression not only of female beauty but also of divine benignity.
63 What is vital to the character of Thetis, however, is not an overtly sombre quality but rather the disparity between the bright appearance and the murk within. It alerts us to the fact that Thetis is capable of two types of dolos, trickery, the word identified as crucial to the conception of mêtis by Detienne and Vernant. 78 On the one hand, qua shape-changing goddess, she uses multiplicity of forms, and rapid transformation, as her means of evasion; on the other, qua sepia, she uses concealment, the creation of a pall of darkness to shroud and mask. In fact, transformation and layering/concealment go hand in hand in ancient thought.79 Thetis, however, gives the connection a special dimension, as the sepia simultaneously executes its ink-diffusing dolos and its physical fluidity and changefulness. It is worth noting that the sea and its denizens were frequently associated with darkness;80 on land, Thetis might look like a fair-skinned woman of great beauty, but she contains within her the murk of the sea from which she comes.
64 Darkness is perhaps not Thetis’ only form of concealed menace. Latent animality finds one final expression in the mythology of Thetis. In one account, Peleus has killed his younger half-brother Phokos (‘Seal’81) in a fit of jealousy, and Phokos’ mother Psamathe sends a fierce wolf to kill Peleus in revenge. The wolf, however, incapacitates itself by gorging on a herd of straying cattle; and when it catches up with Peleus, Thetis, who is with him, is able to turn it to stone by pulling a frightening face, tongue protruding.82 The grimace is irresistibly reminiscent of the gorgon-faces so frequent in Greek art, with their protruding tongues and prominent fangs; and though it is a lone instance in the case of Thetis, it shows her ability to take on an archetypal apotropaic, fear- inspiring form.83 Her ability suddenly to metamorphose from lovely goddess to terrifying one reminds us perhaps of the motif of the pale squid, when angered, ejecting black ink. Thetis’ loveliness is not to be relied on. In this she has more in common with Pandora and Helen (beauties with dog-minds and destructive potential) than might be thought from reading the Iliad alone.
6. Conclusion
65 The preceding section took us somewhat away from Cheiron; and indeed this is not wholly accidental. It is a fact that Thetis’ characterisation in the sources is more complex than the centaur’s, because it is full of tensions and ambiguities. Thetis expresses and explores anxieties; Cheiron seems almost desired to still them. His
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character is never allowed to display any potential for malevolence; the worst act of which he is capable is death, and his death is (according to Pindar) a loss to mankind.
66 To regard Thetis and Cheiron as simply opposites of each other would be to neglect the subtleties of their respective characterisation. There are many aspects of their personalities which operate quite independently and have no thematic relationship with each other at all. If we knew more about the cult of Thetis, in Thessaly and elsewhere, this complexity would surely only increase.
67 However, on several key points they can usefully be studied together, and be seen to relate through a system of strong and significant contrast. Within this contrast lies another: that between the Iliadic and the non-Iliadic Thetis; or, to put it another way, that between Thetis as she operates in Thessaly, and Thetis as she operates on the grander stage of epic. For reasons unknown, Thessaly does not see the best of Thetis, as wife or (especially) as mother. The hostile portrayal of Thetis seems to run parallel to the strong mythical (and perhaps cultic) rapport of Cheiron and Peleus, in which Cheiron repairs, or at least attempts to repair, everything that Thetis has damaged. This picture is not absolute. The story in which Thetis, by pulling a terrible face, saves Peleus from Psamathe’s wolf places her in a role strikingly similar to that of Cheiron when he saves Peleus from the murderous centaurs on Pelion. It makes her an adjutor and protector rather than the unreliable, destructive figure of other narratives. However, it is a lone voice.
68 It is not the case that Thetis is bad while Cheiron is good. Rather, Thetis is allowed to become a testing-ground for profound ambivalence and ambiguity, while Cheiron is not allowed to reflect any ambivalence, or show any ambiguity in his character, at all. Both processes give their subjects great cultural power: Thetis expresses uncertainty, Cheiron certainty; it is the juxtaposition of the two (explicit or implicit) that proves so potent in ancient narratives. Together, Cheiron and Thetis also encapsulate all of the imaginary Thessaly, all its mythical territory: the culture of the inland plain, the mountain (Pelion) which dominates the Magnesian litoral; the eastern shore; the wider marine network within which the region should certainly be viewed.
NOTES
1. Ph. BORGEAUD, “Note sur le Sépias. Mythe et histoire,” Kernos 8 (1995), p. 23-29. 2. See Ph. BORGEAUD, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece, trans. K. Atlass and J. Redfield, Chicago, 1988, esp. p. 4-5. 3. Hyginus, Astronomica II, 18; scholion on Apollonios Rhodios, Argon. I, 558. 4. Apollodoros, III, 13, 5. Interestingly, in Ovid’s version (Metamorphoses XI, 221-265) this advisory role is taken by another old sage: Proteus. 5. Apollod., l.c. 6. See Homer, Iliad XIX, 389-391: here the spear is explicitly described as made from Pelian ash, a natural product of the mountain.
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7. W. MANNHARDT,Antike Wald- und Feldkulte aus nordeuropäischer Überlieferung, Berlin, 1877, Bd. II, p. 52-55; see also P. PHILIPPSON, Thessalische Mythologie, Zurich, 1944, p. 137. Mannhardt was convinced that the lost Peleis was of earlier date than the Iliad – a shaky thesis. 8. Herodotos, VII, 191, 2. The passage does not describe an offering by locals, but by the stranded Persian fleet; however, it is motivated by the knowledge that offers to Thetis at that place were the custom. 9. Wace and Droop excavated at Theotokou, ‘the traditional site of Sepias’, where they found, beneath a modern chapel, Doric architectural fragments but no inscriptions or substantial temple remains. They concluded, dramatically, that Sepias itself cannot have been in the Theotokou area but must, instead, have been ‘near the foot of Mount Pelion at Cape Porí.’ A position near the foot of Pelion would bring Thetis’ sacred territory, whatever worship took place there, into even closer proximity to the cave of Cheiron. However, it is likely that in making this conclusion, based on a lack of material remains, Wace and Droop were over-prioritising buildings and other material remains as evidence of cult. See A.J.B. WACE, and J.B. DROOP, “Excavations at Theotokou, Thessaly,” ABSA 13 (1906-7), p. 309-327, esp. p. 311. 10. Scholion on Lykophron, Alexandra, 175. 11. The text in question was previously attributed to Dikaiarchos,and appears under his name in FHistGr II F 60 (ed. MÜLLER). For the attribution to Herakleides, see F.PFISTER, Die Reisebilder des Herakleides, Vienna, 1951. For details and discussion of this ritual and of the Pelion cult of Cheiron generally, see W. BURKERT, Homo Necans: The Anthropology of Ancient Greek Sacrificial Myth and Ritual, trans. P. Bing, Berkeley, 1983, 109-116; R. BUXTON, Imaginary Greece. The Contexts of Mythology, Cambridge, 1994, 94; E.M.M. ASTON, “The Absence of Chiron,” CQ 56 (2006), p. 349-362. 12. Herakleides fr. 2, 12 (ed. PFISTER). 13. Both deities in fact had other sites of worship in Thessaly: Cheiron in a cave near Pharsalos where a long verse-inscriptions includes him in a catalogue of deities, and Thetis in and around Pharsalos. To find them cropping up again not far apart is interesting, but in this instance we do not have relevant mythology connecting them with each other and with Pharsalos; therefore it is impossible to make any useful conjectures about the significance of their proximity there. With regard to the Pelion region, by contrast, they were both obviously key players in local mythical dramas, and their interrelation can very valuably be examined. Sources for Thetis’ worship in Pharsalos: Euripides, Andromache 20; Strabo 9.431. (See also SEG 45, 637 for possible epigraphic evidence; however, the reading of the stone is very uncertain.) Near Pharsalos: Polybios, XVIII, 20, 6; Pherekydes, FGrH 328F 1. Discussion of Cheiron’s cult near Pharsalos: D. LEVI, “L’antro delle ninfe e di Pan a Farsalo in Tessaglia: Topographia e scavi,” ASAA 6-7 (1923), p. 27-42; J. LARSON, Greek Nymphs: Myth, Cult, Lore, Oxford, 2001, p. 13-20; ASTON, l.c. (n. 11). 14. E.L. BOWIE, “Philostratus: Writer of Fiction,” in J.R. MORGAN and R. STONEMAN (eds.), Greek Fiction: The Greek Novel in Context, London, 1994, p. 181-99; G. ANDERSON, Philostratus: Biography and Belles Lettres in the Third Century AD, London, 1986; I.C. RUTHERFORD, “Black Sails for Achilles: The Thessalian Pilgrimage in Philostratus’Heroicus,” in E.L. BOWIE and J. ELSNER (eds.), Philostratus, Cambridge, 2009, p. 230-250 (my thanks go to the author for kindly allowing me to read the paper in advance of publication). See also E.B. AITKEN, “The Cult of Achilles in Philostratus’ Heroikos: A Study in the Relation of Canon and Ritual,” in S.R. ASIRVATHAM, C. PACHE and J. WATROUS (eds.), Between Magic and Religion: Interdisciplinary Studies in Ancient Mediterranean Religion and Society, Lanham Md., 2001, p. 127-136. This article stresses the importance of reading the Heroikos against the backdrop of ‘Severan attempts towards the renewal of hero-cults,’ (129). 15. C.P. JONES, “Philostratus’Heroikos and its Setting in Reality,” JHS 121 (2001), p. 141-149: see esp. p. 144-145. 16. At Sigeion near the Hellespont: Hdt., V, 94; see also Strabo XIII, 1, 32. In the Iliad, though of course the cult of Achilles is not explicitly mentioned, there is a description of his tomb as a beacon
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helping foundering sailors at sea: see XIX, 374-380. The cults of heroes such as Achilles are of course very often epic-driven, but this does not make them less ‘authentic’ than types of worship which are not. On the matter of the influence of epic on cult, see esp. J.N. COLDSTREAM, “Hero-Cults in the Age of Homer,” JHS 96 (1976), p. 8-17: Coldstream famously attributed the rise of hero cults in the eighth century almost entirely to the spread of epic; for a refutation of this view, see G. NAGY, The Best of the Achaeans, Johns Hopkins, 1979, p. 115-116: Nagy believes that hero cults and epic grew in importance in parallel, both responding to the rise of the polis. For a useful brief re-appraisal of some of the key questions, giving further bibliography, see A. SNODGRASS, “The Archaeology of the Hero,” in R. BUXTON (ed.), Oxford Readings in Greek Religion, Oxford, 1994, p. 180-190. 17. E.g. W. BURKERT, “Jason, Hypsipyle and New Fire at Lemnos: A Study in Myth and Ritual,” in BUXTON (ed.), o.c. (n. 16), p. 227-249. 18. B. HELLY, “Décret de Larisa pour Bombos, fils d’Alkaios, et pour Leukios, fils de Nikasias, citoyens d’Alexandrie de Troade (ca 150 av. J.-C.),” Chiron 36 (2006), p. 171-203. 19. On the nostalgia and retrospection of Second Sophistic authors, see E.L. BOWIE, “Greeks and their Past in the Second Sophistic,” P&P 46 (1970), p. 3-41. 20. See above n. 16. 21. Philostratus, Heroikos, 53, 10: βαῖνε πρὸς αἰπὺν τόνδε κολωνὸν | μετ’ Ἀχιλλέως ἔμπυρα, | βαῖν’ ἀδάκρυτος μετὰ Θεσσαλίας, | Θέτι κυανέα, Θέτι Πηλεία. I use here the translation provided in J.K.B. MACLEAN and E.B. AITKEN, Flavius Philostratus: On Heroes, Atlanta, 2001. Unless otherwise stated, all other translations in this article are my own. 22. Philostr., Her., 53, 10. 23. Hom. Il. I, 357-363; XVIII, 65-77; XIX, 1-11. 24. On the association of Thetis with both grief and anger, see L. SLATKIN, “The Wrath of Thetis,” TAPhA 116 (1986), p. 1-24. 25. See e.g. Hom. Od. IX, 400. 26. Ovid, Met. XI, 238. This motif of the sea deity using the shore as a place for restful (but often perilous!) sleep is found elsewhere, for example in the episode in the Odyssey (IV, 382-570) in which Menelaos captures Proteus, who is sleeping in a cave on the shore, a liminal space if ever there was one. 27. Achilles: Pindar, Nemean III, 43-49; Ap. Rhod., Argon. I, 551-558; Apollod., III, 13, 6. Aristaios: Ap. Rhod., Argon. II, 508-510. Aktaion: Apollod., IV, 4, 4. Asklepios: Pind. Pythian III, 5-7; Nem. III, 53-54; Apollod., III, 10, 3. Jason: Hesiod, Catalogue of Women, 13; Pind, Nem. III, 53-54. 28. Ἐπ᾿ ἄκρας δὲ τῆς τοῦ ὄρους κορυφῆς σπήλαιόν ἐστι τὸ καλούμενον Χειρώνιον καὶ Διὸς Ἀκταίου ἱερόν ἐφ᾿ ὃ κατὰ κυνὸς ἀνατολὴν κατὰ τὸ ἀκμαιότατον καῦμα ἀναβαἰνουσι τῶν πολιτῶν οἱ ἐπιφανέστατοι καὶ ταῖς ἡλικίαις ἀκμάζοντες, ἐπιλεχθέντες ἐπὶ τοῦ ἱερέως, ἐνεζωσμένοι κῴδια τρίποκα καινά. τοιοῦτον συμβαίνει ἐπὶ τοῦ ὄρους τὸ ψῦχος εἶναι. 29. BUXTON, o.c. (n. 11), p. 94. For a more complicated argument regarding the ritual association of Zeus and Cheiron on Pelion, see BURKERT, o.c. (n. 11), p. 109-116. 30. IG XII 3, 360. See M.VOGEL, Chiron: der Kentaur mit der Kithara, Bonn, 1978, p. 218. The discussion is to be found in PHILIPPSON, o.c. (n. 7), p. 150-155. 31. PHILIPPSON, o.c. (n. 7). Much less persuasive is her theory that the cult of Cheiron travelled from Pelion in Thessaly to the Peloponnese, and from there to Thera; it retained, she argues, its Thessalian character, including the cave-association and the kourotrophic element. The evidence adduced is somewhat questionable. (For example, Apollodoros’ account of Cheiron’s expulsion from Pelion to Malea – Apollod., II, 5, 4. – is taken as referring, mythologically, to the first leg of the journey.) The idea is not, however, per se impossible. 32. In the account of Apollodoros, Cheiron ends up in the Peloponnese following the expulsion of the centaurs (himself among them) from Thessaly by the Lapiths; once there, on Cape Malea, he
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encounters Herakles, who accidentally shoots him with a poisoned arrow. Cheiron relinquishes his immortality when the pain becomes unbearable. See Apollod., II, 5, 4. 33. ASTON, l.c. (n. 11). 34. On the importance of personal presence to the cult of Asklepios, and its Thessalian connections, see E.M.M. ASTON,“Asclepius and the Legacy of Thessaly,” CQ 54 (2004), p. 18-32; on the shared characteristics of the ‘underground hero’, see the article of Y. USTINOVA,“‘Either a Daimon, or a Hero, or Perhaps a God:’ Mythical Residents of Subterranean Chambers,” Kernos 15 (2002), p. 267-288, which succeeds in establishing the type as a coherent phenomenon in Greek religion. See also Y. USTINOVA, Caves and the Ancient Greek Mind. Descending Underground in the Search for Ultimate Truth, Oxford, 2009, p. 89-108. 35. Nicander, Theriaka 500-505: πρώτην μὲν Χείρωνος ἐπαλθέα ῥίζαν ἑλέσθαι, | Κενταύρου Κρονίδαο φερώνυμον, ἥν ποτε Χείρων | Πηλίου ἐν νιφόεντα κιχὼν ἐφράσσατο δειρῇ. | τῆς μὲν ἀμαρακόεσσα χυτὴ περιδέδρομε χαίτη, | ἄνθεα δὲ χρύσεια φαείνεται· ἡ δ’ ὑπὲρ αἴης | ρἵζα καὶ οὐ βυθόωσα Πελεθρόνιον νάπος ἴσχει. 36. Theophrastos, On Plants IX, 11, 1-7. It is clear from the description of the plant (golden flowers) that it is the same species as described in the Nicander passage. 37. Mention of the anger of Achilles towards the Thessalians is also to be found in the Life of Apollonios – see e.g. IV, 12 and IV, 16. No mention, however, is made of Thetis here; she seems to owe her inclusion in the Heroikos to her particular role in the theoria and perhaps to her Thessalian connections. 38. Her.,53, 19-21: Θετταλοῖς γὰν ὑπὲρ τῶν ἐναγισμάτων μηνίοντα αἰσθόμενος, ‘ἐμοί’ ἔφην, ‘ὦ Ἀχιλλεῦ, πάρες τοῦτο’. ὁ δ’ οὐ πείθεται, φησὶ δ’ αὐτοῖς κακόν τι ἐκ θαλάττης δώσειν. καὶ δεδία μὴ παρὰ τῆς Θέτιδος εὕρηταί τι αὐτοῖς ὁ δεινὸς ἐκεῖνος καὶ ἀμείλικτος.’ κἀγὼ μέν, ξένε, ταῦτα ἀκούσας τοῦ Πρωτεσίλεω, ἐρυσίβας τε ᾤμην καὶ ὁμίχλας προσβεβλήσεσθαι τοῖς Θετταλῶν ληίοις ὑπὸ τοῦ ‘Αχιλλέως ἐπὶ φθορᾷ τοῦ καρποῦ· ταυτὶ γὰρ τὰ πάθη δοκεῖ πως ἐκ θαλάττης ἐπὶ τὰς εὐκάρπους τῶν ἠπείρων ἱζάνειν. ᾤμην δὲ καὶ ἐπικλυσθήσεσθαί τινας τῶν ἐν Θετταλίᾳ πόλεων… 39. SLATKIN, l.c. (n. 24), makes the interesting and valuable connection between Thetis and Demeter Melaina, the Arkadian goddess who emerges from Pausanias’ description of her cult especially as a deity given to punitive anger and liable to threaten agricultural stability if not properly maintained. On this, see also L. BRUIT, “Pausanias à Phigalie. Sacrifices non sanglants et discours idéologique,” Metis 1 (1986), p. 71-96. 40. E. VERMEULE, Aspects of Death in Early Greek Art and Poetry, Berkeley, 1979, p. 185-186. 41. BUXTON, o.c. (n. 11), p. 97-104. 42. Photios, Bibl., 149. 43. Antoninus Liberalis, Metamorphoses XXXVIII. 44. Lines 441-443: ἔνθα κεν αἰνότατος λόχος ἔπλετο· τεῖρε γὰρ αἰνῶς | φωκάων ἁλιοτρεφέων ὀλοώτατος ὀδμή· | τίς γάρ κ’ εἰναλίῳ παρὰ κήτεï κοιμηθείη; 45. Line 446. 46. Line 406. 47. It is interesting to note a remark of Plutarch, which could be seen to epitomise Greek attitudes towards the sea: one of his speakers in the Quaestiones Convivalium (Mor., 669e) remarks that ‘sea animals… are a species entirely alien and remote from us (ekphylon … kai apoikon hêmôn)’. Seals have superficial resemblance to land animals, a resemblance which can be played with using pastoral imagery, but are really part of the sea’s alien, worrying realm. 48. Lines 411-413. 49. Line 451. 50. Note also the wider topos of punishment (especially divinely sent) coming from the sea, often in the form of a kêtos. For example, the shore of Troy is ravaged by a sea-monster sent by
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Poseidon as punishment for Laomedon’s failure to pay him for his part in building the city walls: see Apollod., II, 5, 9. Antoninus Liberalis explicitly connects a kêtos sent by Poseidon with the simultaneous destruction of crops and infliction of famine (see Ant. Lib., Met. III). This is interesting in view of the effect of Thetis’ sea-borne pestilence in the Heroikos, blighting the crops of the Thessalians. 51. Thetis and Dionysos: Hom., Il. VI, 130-137. Thetis and Hephaistos: Hom., Il. XVIII, 394-398; Hom. Hym. III, 319-321. In the Iliad there is a certain amount of verbal similarity between the Dionysos and the Hephaistos episodes. In both, the phrase hupedexato kolpôi is used of Thetis’ sheltering action. 52. E.g. at Il. III, 180 (kunôps) and VI, 344 & 356 (both kuôn in the genitive, kunos). 53. M. DAVIES, “Alcaeus, Thetis and Helen,” Hermes 114 (1986), p. 257-262. 54. Thetis punished by Zeus for rejecting his advances: Kypria, fr. 2 (ed. DAVIES). 55. This version is found in Pindar, Isthm. VIII, 26-57. 56. E.g. at XVIII, 54. 57. Achilleid I, 134-140. The evidence of visual material does, however, suggest the possibility of Hellenistic antecedents for this variant: see J. BURGESS, “The Death of Achilles in Ancient Myth,” ClAnt 14 (1995), p. 217-243, esp. p. 226-228. 58. Lyk., Alex., 178-179. 59. It is interesting to compare the story in which Medea, that notorious child-killer of myth, attempts and fails to make her children by Jason immortal, and is prevented from further experimentation by Jason (see Pausanias, II, 3, 11). In this instance no harm comes to the children, but a destructive parallel could be discerned in Medea’s treatment of Pelias: she tricks him into entering a cauldron whose boiling contents she claims will rejuvenate him (a version of immortalising magic) but in fact he is simply boiled to death. See Diodoros, IV, 52, 1-2; Pausanias, VIII, 11, 2-3. Although Medea is not herself from Thessaly, the story has a largely Thessalian (specifically Iolkian) context. 60. Schol. Ap. Rhod., Argon. IV, 816: ἡ Θέτις εἰς λέβητα ὕδατος ἔβαλλεν τοὺν ἐκ Πηλέως γεννωμένους, γνῶναι βουλομένη εἰ θνητοί εἰσιν [ … ] καὶ δὴ πολλῶν διαφθαρέντων ἀγανακτῆσαι τὸν Πηλέα καὶ κωλῦσαι τὸν ᾿Αχιλλέα ἐμβληθῆναι εἰς λέβητα. 61. Even in sources which do not treat Thetis as wantonly destructive of her children’s lives, the process of immortalisation by fire is often depicted as agonising for the infant: see e.g. Apollod., III, 13, 6; Ap. Rhod., Argon. IV, 874. 62. Transmitted in Proklos, Chrestomathia, 2. 63. Ap. Rhod., Argon. IV, 868-879: ἡ μὲν γὰρ βροτέας αἰεὶ περὶ σάρκας ἔδαιεν | νύκτα διὰ μέσσην φθογμῷ πυρός. ἤματα δ᾿ αὖτε | ἀμβροσίῃ χρίεσκε τέρεν δέμας, ὄφρα πέλοιτο | ἀθάνατος, καί οἱ στυγερὸν χροῒ γῆρας ἀλάλκοι. | αὐτὰρ ὅγ’ ἐξ εὐνῆς ἀνεπάλμενος εἰσενόησεν | παῖδα φίλον σπαίροντα διὰ φλογός· ἧκε δ᾿ αὐτὴν | σμερδαλέην ἐσιδών, μέγα νήπιος· ἡ δ’ αἴουσα | τὸν μὲν ἄρ’ ἁρπάγδην χαμάδις βάλε κεκληγῶτα, | αὐτὴ δὲ πνοιῇ ἱκέλη δέμας, ἠύτ’ ὄνειρος, | βῆ ῥ᾿ ἴμεν ἐκ μεγάροιο θοῶς, καὶ ἐσήλατο πόντον | χωσαμένη· μετὰ δ᾿ οὔτι παλίσσυτος ἵκετ᾿ ὀπίσσω. Cf. Apollod., III, 13, 6. 64. In Photios, Bibl., 190. 65. It also increases the abiding impression given by the sources that Peleus and Cheiron are very much in cahoots – in some contexts in shared opposition to Thetis, as when Cheiron advises Peleus on her violent capture. It is also interesting to note that according to one text Cheiron and Peleus were joint recipients of human sacrifice. Clement of Alexandria records the following remark by Monimos: Μόνιμος δ᾿ ἱστορεῖ ἐν τῇ τῶν θαυμασίων συναγωγῇ ἐν Πέλλῃ τῆς Θετταλίας Ἀχαιὸν ἄνθρωπον Πηλεῖ καὶ Χείρωνι καταθύεσθαι (Clem. Alex., Protrepticus III, 42, 4 = Monimos, FHistGR IV F 1 (ed. MÜLLER): ‘Monimos records in his collection of marvels that in Thessalian Pella an Achaian man was sacrificed to Peleus and Cheiron.’ There is so much we do not know about this situation:
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when, where, by whom, how often, whether regularly or in response to certain circumstances; Hughes, for one, does not care to read this as evidence of a regular and actual ritual (see D.D. HUGHES, Human Sacrifice in Ancient Greece, London, 1991, p. 121). Another attempt to link Peleus and Cheiron in cult is made by A. KLINZ, in his Hieros gamos: quaestiones selectae ad sacras nuptias graecorum religionis et poeseos pertinentes, Wittenberg, 1933, p. 58-63, in which he claims that Peleus was originally – before the inevitable process of hypostasis and misunderstanding – the eponymous god of Pelion, with Cheiron as a companion in cult. This is anything but convincing, and we are thrown back on what we do know: that Cheiron is repeatedly depicted in the literary sources as the advisor and helper of Peleus, sometimes in opposition to the actions of Thetis. 66. Etym. Magn. s.v. ‘Sepias’; schol. Ap. Rhod., Argon. I, 582. 67. Ath., I, 30d. 68. Schol. Lyk., Alex., 175: `διωκομένη ὑπὸ Πηλέως ἡ Θέτις μετήλαττεν ἑαυτὴν ὡς ὁ Πρωτεὺς εἰς διαφόρους ιδέας, ἐκεῖ δέ κατέσχεν αὐτὴν ἐν σηπίας μορφῇ καὶ ἐμίγη αὐτῇ, ὅθεν καὶ Σηπίας χωρίον Μαγνησίας Θετταλικῆς’. Detienne and Vernant, however, identify this as a tradition going back to the Kypria. See M. DETIENNE and J.-P. VERNANT, Cunning Intelligence in Greek Culture and Society, trans. J. Lloyd London, 1978, p. 159. 69. DETIENNE and VERNANT, o.c. (n. 68); the chapter on Thetis is p. 133-174. 70. On the text, see E. DEGANI, “Problems in Greek Gastronomic Poetry: On Matro’s Attikon Deipnon,” in J. WILKINS, D. HARVEY and M. DOBSON (eds.), Food in Antiquity, Exeter, 1995, p. 413-428. See also J. DAVIDSON, Courtesans and Fishcakes: The Consuming Passions of Classical Athens, London, 1997, p. 231-232. 71. Matron, Attikon Deipnon = Ath., I, 135 c: ἦλθε δὲ Νηρῆος θυγάτηρ, Θέτις ἀργυρόπεζα, | σηπίη εὐπλόκαμος, δεινὴ θεὸς αὐδήεσσα, | ἣ μόνη ἰχθὺς ἐοῦσα τὸ λευκὸν καὶ μέλαν οἶδε. 72. For an ancient comparison of the sepia’s tentacles with hair, see Oppian, Halieutica II, 122. 73. Also ill-advised is the translation of the latter half of the line as ‘knows the difference between black and white’. This interpretation is not so much linguistically impossible as thematically unnecessary. 74. See for example the reference to an eel as white-armed (!) at Ath., IV, 135c – the choice of this epithet, Homeric as it is, must derive from the existing fish-as-white idea. 75. See e.g. Aristophanes, Ecclesiazusae, 126. Here a woman in a false beard is compared with a cuttlefish similarly disguised, and the scholiast explains this with the words λευκαὶγὰραἱσηπίαι. See DETIENNE and VERNANT o.c. (n. 68), p. 160-161 and 174 n. 139. 76. VERMEULE, o.c. (n. 40), p. 179 describes how, in ancient thought, the sea is persistently accorded this discrepancy between surface (shining, apparently placid) and depths (murky, miasmatic, full of kêtê): this is just the characterisation of outside and inside that we find in Thetis. Interestingly, Semonides uses the sea as an image of the mutability of the female temperament, placid one moment, stormy the next (lines 27 to 42 of the famous catalogue of female types). This does not play on the inside/outside theme, but it does reinforce the connection between the sea and feminine unreliability and danger; also that between the sea and transformation. 77. Paus. VIII, 34, 2-3. 78. The mêtis of the sepia: Aristotle, Historia Animalium, 622a 8; Oppian (Hal. I, 406) refers to the sepia dolomêtis. Interestingly, Plutarch (Mor., 978a) remarks that the sepia copies the gods of Homer by concealing itself in a kuaneê nephelê, a dark cloud – just the imagery used of Thetis herself in the Iliad. See p. 1 above. 79. For example, David Wiles has argued with regard to theatre that in ancient thought the donning of a mask meant not only concealment of identity but complete change of identity. See D. WILES, “The Use of Masks in Modern Performances of Greek Drama,” in E. HALL (ed.), Dionysus since 69: Greek Tragedy at the Dawn of the Third Millennium, Oxford, 2004, p. 245-263.
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80. Reflected in the adjectives frequently used to describe the sea, such as oinops, kuaneos / kuanobenthês, etc. 81. This is an interesting adjacent case of marine metamorphosis: Psamathe turned herself into a seal to avoid the amorous pursuit of Aiakos; in vain, and the resulting child’s name suggests that he carries the vestiges of his mother’s animal form. See Ant. Lib., Met. XXXVIII. 82. Ant. Lib., Met. XXXVIII; schol. Lyk., Alex., 175 and 901. 83. See J.-P. VERNANT, Mortals and Immortals: Collected Essays, edited by Froma I. Zeitlin, Princeton, 1991, p. 116-125, for the terror-inspiring qualities of the gorgon’s face.
ABSTRACTS
This article examines an area of Thessalian mythology and cult surrounding the figures of Thetis the Nereid and Cheiron the centaur. It argues that the pair derive a substantial amount of their characterisation, in ancient narratives, from their mutual association, and that only by studying them together can we receive a full insight into their mythological and religious personae. Thetis and Cheiron are shown to differ significantly with regard to a number of themes, such as their relationship with symbolic topography and the natural landscape of Thessaly and – most strikingly – their kourotrophic roles. Thetis’ strong association with ambiguous nurture is argued to connect with her physical conception, especially her association with the shape-changing sepia, cuttlefish, an association which involves her in the wider ancient discourse of unreliable female beauty. It is also shown that the Thetis of Homeric epic is significantly different from the Thetis found in other ancient narratives.
Cet article étudie une partie de la mythologie et du culte thessaliens autour des figures de la Néréide Thétis et du centaure Chiron. Il montre qu’une part importante de leurs caractéristiques, dans les récits anciens, provient de leur association et que c’est seulement en les étudiant ensemble qu’on prend la pleine mesure de leur dimension mythologique et religieuse. Thétis et Chiron présentent des différences substantielles sur un certain nombre de plans, tels que leur relation à la topographie symbolique et au paysage naturel de la Thessalie, et, de manière plus surprenante, leur rôle de courotrophes. L’association étroite entre Thétis et l’ambiguïté du nourrissage est mise en relation avec sa constitution physique et avec le sepia protiforme, le poulpe. Cette dernière association l’insère dans un ample discours ancien sur la duplicité de la beauté féminine. En outre, la Thétis de l’épopée homérique est fort différente de la Thétis que l’on trouve dans les autres récits anciens.
AUTHOR
EMMA ASTON Department of Classics University of Reading READING, RG6 6AA [email protected]
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Apollo, Ennodia, and fourth-century Thessaly*
C.D. Graninger
Introduction
1 September 3, 404, the conventional date of Lykophron of Pherai’s successful battle against those opposing his designs on controlling Thessaly, marks in many traditional historiographies the first in a long series of military conflicts for leadership in Thessaly which so dominated the region in the early fourth century and illustrated so joylessly the Thessalian predilection for stasis.1 Xenophon’s abbreviated description of the event can be seen to stand at the beginning of such a historiography. Κατὰ δὲ τοῦτον τὸν καιρὸν περὶ ἡλίου ἔκλειψιν Λυκόφρων ὁ Φεραῖος, βουλόμενος ἄρξαι ὅλης τῆς Θετταλίας, τοὺς ἐναντιουμένους αὐτῷ τῶν Θετταλῶν, Λαρισαίους τε καὶ ἄλλους, μάχῃ ἐνίκησε καὶ πολλοὺς ἀπέκτεινεν.2 During that period at the time of an eclipse of the sun, Lykophron of Pherai, wishing to rule all of Thessaly, conquered in battle those Thessalians opposing him, Larisans and others, and he killed many.
2 The conflict that he depicts is eminently military in character, and the immediate consequences of this event are again conceived of in purely physical terms – “and he killed many”. But there is another layer of inchoate analysis even in Xenophon to which subsequent historiography has been less sensitive. Xenophon describes Lykophron’s aspirations in geographic terms (“wishing to rule all of Thessaly”) and the addition of the adjective ὅλης perhaps suggests that the Pheraian was already master of “some” Thessalian territory beyond his native city. This desire led to confrontation with inhabitants of this region (“Thessalians”), whose identity is immediately clarified by an appositive phrase (“Larisans and others”). There is thus in this passage a profound elision of place and people, of city and region, which well captures another, non-military side of this period of Thessalian stasis. Lykophron is never heard from again, but the questions posed by his attempt at winning regional authority would linger. These wars were not simply a matter of who would rule Thessaly and how would he or they do it, but something still more fundamental: What was Thessaly? Perhaps
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more urgently, what did it mean to be Thessalian? Such questions are rarely so baldly and naively framed and, as history reminds us, do often enough admit of purely military solutions. But given the inherently discursive nature of identity, which is not primordial and static, but elective and evolving, there may be other answers to these questions – social-cultural, political, and, the topic of this paper, religious.3
3 This essay explores the relationship between cult and regional identity in fourth- century Thessaly through two case studies. The first, squarely grounded in roughly contemporary literary evidence, concerns the appropriation of a panhellenic figure, Pythian Apollo, by Jason, tyrant of Pherai, tagos of the Thessalians, and his use of this divinity to build a Thessalian identity and therein to cement regional consensus supporting his rule. The second, based now on laconic or lacunose inscriptions, now again on late literary sources, explores an aggressive attempt, most likely by the tyrants of Pherai, to stake out an elect position for their city within this developing regional identity by shaping public discourse about a peculiarly Thessalian goddess, Ennodia. Where panhellenic Pythian Apollo was in some sense made a regional, Thessalian god through Jason’s actions, Ennodia, already a figure of regional prominence in the fourth century, was remade into a Pheraian goddess by the tyrants. While it is difficult to reach definitive conclusions about the relative success of each of these endeavors, the Thessalian nachleben of both figures may be illuminating. Philip II’s use of Pythian Apollo for a purpose similar to Jason’s less than two decades after the tagos’ planned procession to Delphi suggests strongly that this god continued to be a viable figure around which a Thessalian identity could be constructed. Ennodia’s fortunes were to be vastly different. The tyrants’ discourse was influential, but successful outside of Thessaly alone. In central and southern Greece there is considerable evidence that a narrative of Ennodia’s Pheraian origins was current well into the Roman era. The effect within Thessaly was precisely opposite. While Ennodia’s connection with Pherai was ignored in the language of cult in the region, such an association was not easily forgotten and likely contributed to the goddess’ absence among the patron deities of the Thessalian League at the time of its refounding in the second century. 1. Jason’s Procession to Delphi
4 By 370, less than thirty five years after Lykophron’s victory, Thessalian politics had stabilized. Following his appointment as tagos of the Thessalians in 375, Jason of Pherai was subsequently able to secure control over tetradic Thessaly and, in the aftermath of Leuctra, to win influence in perioikic Perrhaebia as well as the Spercheios valley. This expansion of power into central Greece was both a reminder of previous Thessalian glory and a potential harbinger of more adventurous policy in the near future. The capstone of this period of prosperity and ambition, symbolic of the broader transformation of regional politics, was to be the Pythian festival of 370. Xenophon describes the Thessalian preparations in some detail:4 As the Pythian festival was drawing near, Jason ordered the cities to contribute cattle, sheep, goats, and pigs for the festival. And they said that he, despite asking very little from each city, had no less than one thousand cattle, and more than ten thousand of the other animals. He announced that there would even be a victory prize, a gold crown, for whichever city raised the most beautiful bull to be leader [of the procession] for the god.
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5 The preparations for the festival reinforced Jason’s attempts to consolidate his recent territorial gains and to shore up his standing within the Thessalian heartland.5 The agonistic context is particularly distinctive. The tagos, perhaps recognizing the varying capacities of Thessalian communities to donate, wisely elected to make quality, not quantity, the decisive factor for the award of the gold crown. The passage nevertheless intimates that cities were informally competing with one another at the level of quantity as well: Jason’s modest demands were wildly and voluntarily exceeded – 1,000 cattle, 10,000 other animals.6 One therein glimpses the displacement of latent Thessalian interstate conflicts from the political and military sphere into the realm of cult. Of equal, if not greater importance, was the collective, Thessalian character of the theoria, and the final outcome of these preparations may have been some form of political or social unity momentarily performed in the language of cult.7
6 The successful projection of this new Thessalian identity depended ultimately on the honorand, Pythian Apollo. The choice was appropriate for several reasons. He was a familiar god, as cults honoring him in a specifically Delphian aspect were prevalent in Thessaly.One notes, among others, a fifth-century cult of Apollo Delphaios at Theotonium and a cult of Apollo Pythios at Larisa.8 Moreover, the close relationship of Delphi and Thessaly was periodically demonstrated through the performance of the Septeria, an enneateric festival which reenacted the flight of Apollo to the Vale of the Tempe in northeastern Thessaly on the border with Pieria. In myth, after murdering the monster Python, who had been terrifying Delphi and environs, the archer god was polluted and in need of purification, which he obtained at the Tempe. In the Septeria of Delphian cult, a youth was pursued from Delphi to the Tempe after leading a group to set fire to a temporary edifice within the temenos of Apollo there. This youth and his group then fled the sanctuary, experienced labors of some sort, and eventually made their way to the Tempe, where a modest sanctuary of Apollo has been discovered.9 There the youth was purified and the attendant group assumed the character of an ersatz theoria by offering rich sacrifices to Apollo. Laurel was culled and conveyed back to Delphi where it would be used for Pythian victor crowns.10 Along the way, the group may have been entertained in the countryside of Larisa, as Apollo had been.11 The topography of this procession thus provided a powerful reminder of the linkage between Thessaly and Delphi in the sacred time of myth. S. Sprawski has made the attractive suggestion that the processional route used for the Septeria would also have been used by Jason’s theoria.12 Finally, Thessaly’s relationship with Pythian Apollo was mediated through the Delphian Amphictyony, an organization ostensibly grounded in ethnē rather than poleis.13 This underlying cultic reality, coupled with the collective, Thessalian character of the theoria, gave Jason an excellent opportunity to create an image of a Thessaly united under a Thessalian, as opposed to a Thessaly enslaved to a dynast from, for example, Pharsalos, Larisa, or Pherai.
7 Such a procession may also have had the added benefit of appealing to memories of Thessaly’s ragged, faded glory as a northern Greek power. Sources are fragmentary, but in the sixth century the Thessalians had exercised near hegemony over much of central Greece, including the Spercheios valley, Delphi, perhaps as far as Boiotia to the doorstep of Attica.14 While their standing seems to have slipped somewhat over the course of the fifth century, the Thessalians still appear influential in the Spercheios valley at the time of the Peloponnesian War. The regional stasis of the late fifth and early fourth century had resulted in diminished Thessalian influence to the south.
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Their elect position within the Delphic Amphictyony, probably a relic of this earlier stage of dominance, was a tangible reminder of this brilliant chapter in their history.
8 Jason never saw the fruit of his preparations. He was assassinated before his procession took place, and his ultimate intention toward Apollo’s sanctuary, southern Greece, and Persia quickly became fodder for conspiracy theorists, Delphic and otherwise.15 His epigones would be wildly divisive figures and regional stasis was renewed as familiar enemies like the Aleuads of Larisa again came to the fore after his death. For a moment, however, the potential of a unified Thessalian ethnos was real. Jason’s attempted redefinition of regional identity was not lost on another successful politician and general of the fourth century, Philip II of Macedon. The northern king, allied with a coalition of Thessalian states, fought a series of battles during the Third Sacred War against Onomarchos of Phokis and his Pheraian allies. Before the ultimate battle at Crocian Field in 352, Philip ordered his army to don crowns of laurel and encouraged them to fight as if avenging Apollo himself for the wrong done him by the Phokians. Victory was Philip’s.16 In the aftermath he negotiated a settlement whereby the last tyrants of Pherai and much of their army withdrew from Thessaly.17 Later that year, Philip likely won election as archon of the Thessalian League.18 While the Third Sacred War continued to be waged for several more years, Crocian Field ensured that Philip would play an ever more active role in central and southern Greek politics. But in sharper regional perspective, this battle was the final episode of Thessalian stasis in the fourth century and it is fitting that Delphian Apollo was again utilized to forge regional unity. 1. Ennodia between Pherai and Thessaly
9 According to Polyaenus, Cnopus, of the Codridae genos, was fighting with the Ionians at Erythrai after the Ionian colonization of Asia Minor.19 Cnopus received an oracle “to take as general from the Thessalians, the priestess of Ennodia” (στρατηγὸν παρὰ Θεσσαλῶν λαβεῖν τὴν ἱέρειαν τῆς Ἐνοδίας). The priestess, Chrysame, arrived and, through her mastery of herbs, cleverly poisoned the Erythraians; Cnopus led his army to victory. This curious bit of mythologizing provides an introduction to the topic of this paper’s second case study, a figure less familiar than Apollo – Ennodia. This distinctively Thessalian goddess’ name seems to mean “by the road” or “roadside” and may reflect a habitual location of her cult or perceived area of influence.20 She was worshipped throughout the region in a wide variety aspects, some mysterious (e.g., Stathmia, Korillos), some familiar (e.g., Patroa).21 Modern accounts of the goddess have tended to stress her chthonian features. These are paramount in her iconography, where she is regularly found on horseback, holding torches, and in the presence of dogs. Literary sources like Polyainos associate her with appropriate interests (the dead, witchcraft, etc.). Most strikingly, her early and important cult at Pherai appears to have arisen within a cemetery which had only recently gone out of use.22 The most trenchant recent interpretation of Ennodia in the Greek world has been provided by P. Chrysostomou, who collects all literary, epigraphic, and material evidence for her cult. He argues that while at root she was an awful, fear-inspiring goddess of roadsides and the dead, and with strong connections to ghosts, witchcraft and the occult, Ennodia later evolved over the course of the Classical period into a multidimensional goddess whose perceived spheres of influence were diverse, and included politics, kourotrophy, and earthquakes.23 More significant is the important hypothesis of Chrysostomou
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concerning the possible diffusion of Ennodia cult from Pherai: “The extension of her cult is chiefly due to migrant Pheraians who had settled for various reasons in other cities of Thessaly, by Thessalians who had settled in passing in Pherai and became acquainted with the goddess or who had private business with Pherai and became acquainted with the goddess, as well as by Thessalians abroad (Pheraians and others) who had settled in Macedonia and elsewhere… It is obvious that the growth of the military and political power of Pherai from the Archaic period and afterwards, but especially in the period of the tyrannies of Lykophron, Jason, Alexander and his successors (end of the fifth century to 344), favorably influenced the spread of her cult.”24 She became, according to Chrysostomou, “the national Thessalian goddess.”25
10 The late fifth and early fourth centuries do emerge as a period of transition for Ennodia in Thessaly, as Chrysostomou suggests, and on this front the goddess admits of comparison with Delphian Apollo; the nature and outcome of that transition remains in question, however. For, while Chrysostomou’s position represents the crystallization of a scholarly consensus that Ennodia cult originated in Pherai and was later diffused from there,26 the evidence for this view is not particularly strong. Such a perspective is based primarily on the early date of her cult in Pherai, which seems to have begun sometime in the eighth century, and the absence of any correspondingly early evidence from elsewhere in Thessaly, the earliest material (and epigraphic) evidence dating to the fifth century. The second point is the weaker of the two, as it rests on the assumption that absence of evidence is indeed in this case evidence of absence – always a risky proposition, especially in an area like Thessaly where excavation has often been more scattershot than systematic. Nevertheless, given the current state of evidence it is certainly possible, perhaps probable, that Ennodia cult spread to other locations in Thessaly (and beyond) from Pherai. But historical diffusion of a cult does not necessarily require that there be historical memory of such an act, or that such origins would be advertised in a meaningful way in the performance of cult. Purely local factors more often than not would be decisive in determining how or even whether a cult’s origins would be recollected. One begins to shift at this point from the scientific analysis of physical artifacts to semiotic analysis of textual and iconographic remains, from realien to discourse.
11 Irrespective of the material evidence for Ennodia’s origins at Pherai, some such narrative was known already in antiquity. A pair of interesting passages in Pausanias details the transport of cult images of Artemis Pheraia, who must be an extra- Thessalian hypostasis of Ennodia, to two northern Peloponnesian cities. In Sikyon, Pausanias noted that there was a sanctuary of Artemis Pheraia on the road to the gymnasium. Locals in his time asserted that the goddess’ cult image had been brought from Pherai.27 Pausanias observed that there was a cult of Artemis Pheraia at Argos as well and here some Argives could claim that her cult image was transported there from Pherai.28 Just as these two locations shared common local narratives of the origins of their cult images of Artemis Pheraia, so too, according to Pausanias, was the character of her cult parallel in both Sicyon and Argos. The periegete further suggests that the Athenians had a cult of Artemis Pheraia and that this cult too resembled the Sikyonian and Argive versions.29 Pausanias did not discuss such a cult in his section on Attica, and although no such cult is otherwise attested in the region, Hesychius notes that a goddess Pheraia was a “foreign/strange” divinity at Athens who is most likely the Athenian goddess described by Pausanias as Artemis Pheraia.30 Given Hesychius’
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testimony, it is probable that the Athenians, like the Sikyonians and Argives, maintained that their cult image had a Pheraian provenance. In sum, by the time of Pausanias’ writings at the very latest, there appears very clear evidence of a dominant Pheraian discourse of origins regarding Ennodia cult.
12 It is possible to follow a thread of this discourse from the second century CE into an earlier period of antiquity. A third-century dedication from Phalanna in Perrhaibia, a perioikic region of northern Thessaly, indicates that the city was home to a cult of Ennodia Pheraia: [Μικ]κίουν Θερσάνδρειος | [Ἐννο]δίᾳ Φεραίᾳ ὀνέθει|[κε] “Mikkioun, son of Thersandros, dedicated to Ennodia Pheraia.”31 Here again, if P. Clement’s restorations are secure, which they appear to be, there is perceived to be a close connection between Ennodia and Pherai, reflected in her epithet, Pheraia, “of/ belonging to/associated with Pherai”.
13 The trail ends, however, at Phalanna in the third century, and Mikkioun’s dedication remains the earliest evidence from Thessaly (outside of Pherai) attributing the goddess’ origins to Pherai. As we proceed still earlier into the fourth and fifth centuries, evidence for Ennodia discourse is less homogeneous and more fragmented. The evidence falls into two basic categories: evidence from Pherai attesting to the goddess’ importance to the polis and evidence from Thessaly outside of Pherai which makes no explicit association between Ennodia and the putative point of her cult’s diffusion.
14 We begin with what can be reconstructed of the Pheraian narrative first, for it is based on a fuller evidentiary record. Three areas are especially significant. First, city awards of proxeny began to be published in Ennodia’s major sanctuary at Pherai in the second half of the fifth century.32 This development continues into the first half of the fourth century. Although she is not an acropolis divinity at Pherai and the sanctuary in question actually lay beyond the Classical fortification circuit, city decrees are nevertheless published there in substantial number. Elsewhere in the Greek world, it is customary to see an especially close relationship between those divinities in whose sanctuaries state decrees were published and the broader interests of the state itself. Second, Ennodia is part of the local dodekatheon in the fourth century.33 While the processes which lie behind this formalization of her status must remain oblique, her presence suggests a central role in state religion at the time. Finally, and most impressively, the coinage of Pherai begins to feature Ennodia prominently beginning in the early fourth century. On some issues portraits of her appear, whether frontal or in profile, typically with a torch in the surrounding field; on others she is on horseback, holding torches. Such coinage can certainly be linked with two tyrants of Pherai – Alexander, who ruled ca 368-357, and Lykophron II, who ruled ca 353-352 – and Chrysostomou has argued that she may be on coinage issued during Jason’s reign as well (ca 379-370).34 The iconography of this coinage marks a strong departure from the city’s earlier tradition and must reflect a transformation of the goddess’ position within the city.35
15 Taken together, these three categories of evidence suggest that the late fifth-early fourth century was a turning point for Ennodia in the city of Pherai. She gained at that time a civic orientation and emerged as a focus of communal identity. Previously she had no doubt been a major figure in the Pheraian pantheon. Her sanctuary’s large Doric temple, by far the most impressive architecture yet known for the city, had been standing since the sixth-century, a fact which suggests that some elite cadre within the community had found her cult a worthy vehicle for self-promotion. The durability and
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magnificence of this sanctuary ensured that it would continue to play a role in later communal self-definition. Yet there is no evidence that the Pheraians at this time claimed that Ennodia was an exclusively Pheraian divinity or that other Ennodia cults in Thessaly diffused from there.
16 Turning now to evidence of other Thessalian, non-Pheraian discourse concerning Ennodia, it is conspicuous that Ennodia is first epigraphically attested in a pair of inscriptions from Larisa, not Pherai, and that these dedications in no way advertise the goddess’ putative Pheraian origins. The first, dated ca 450-425, reads: Ἀργεία· μ’ ἀνέθεκε ὑπὲρ πα[ι]δὸς | τόδ’ ἄγαλμα· εὔξατ̣ο· δ’ Ἀγέ[τ]ορ | Ϝαστικᾶι· Ἐνοδίαι, “Argeia dedicated me, this agalma, on behalf of her son. Agetor made a vow. To Enodia Wastika.”36 The peculiar epithet is to be derived from (ϝ)ἄστυ and may draw on any of the rich associations of this word. Perhaps this was simply an urban Ennodia, perhaps even a poliadic Ennodia of the community of Larisa37. Most important for our purposes is the absence of any notion of a relationship with Pherai. If Wastika is a poetic synonym for Polias, then this Ennodia would be an emphatically Larisan goddess. The second dedication from Larisa, dated ca 425-400, reads: Ἐννοδίᾳ : Στρογικᾷ | Παττρόᾳ : ὀνέθεκε | Κ̣ρ̣ατέϝας : Μαλάναιος “Kratewas son of Malanos dedicated to Ennodia Strogika Patroa.”38 As an epithet, Strogika continues to mystify. Patroa, however, is quite familiar, normative even. Again, there is no mention of Pherai.
17 From the perspective of realien, these cults of Ennodia in Larisa may in the final analysis have been diffused from Pherai. Her cult is very old there and no comparable evidence for Ennodia cult of an equivalent age has been retrieved from Larisa or anywhere else. But the precise historical relationship between the Ennodia cults of Larisa and those of Pherai is unknowable in the current state of evidence. What is perceptible is that, whatever the ultimate origins of the Larisan Ennodias, these fifth-century dedications betray no awareness of any relationship with Pherai. Striking, rather, is how deeply implicated in Larisa she appears: She is ancestral (Patroa) and belongs to the urban tissue, perhaps even the political consciousness, of the city (Wastika). In sum, these dedications may offer evidence of a local, fifth-century discourse about the goddess which did not necessarily involve the city of Pherai as her primordial home or, at the very least, did not advertise such a relationship in the language of dedication. With the exception of the Phalanna inscription, later mentions of Ennodia in Thessalian epigraphy do not suggest a relationship with the city of Pherai, either. The pattern established by the fifth-century Larisa inscriptions seems to hold.
18 When and where might there have arisen a discourse which claimed Ennodia as a specifically Pheraian deity? If the evidence assembled above is at all representative, the late fifth and especially the early fourth centuries at Pherai appear transitional. Given the shift in Ennodia’s status within the community of Pherai at that time and the city’s concomitant aspirations for regional leadership, it is easy to see both how the city may have attempted to rebrand Thessalian manifestations of the cult as Pheraian in origin and how subsequent, “new” foundations of the cult may have carried a strong civic stamp. As I have argued in this paper, broader questions about a collective regional Thessalian identity were part of the contemporary political and military backdrop. Pheraian claims on Ennodia would have helped to redraw the sacred topography of Thessaly and to establish Pherai in an elect position within it. One can glimpse how this move could conceivably have benefited the Pheraians in their quest for regional hegemony. Yet, for all the successes of this narrative in southern Greece and beyond, it
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was to be a failure in Thessaly. While Ennodia would indeed come to be worshipped throughout the Thessalian ethnos, as very likely she already had been by this time, there is no evidence, as Chrysostomou suggests, that she became a “national goddess”, only that the tyrants of Pherai wished that she be so. Ennodia was a far more contentious figure than Apollo and there was a fundamental difference between regionalizing a panhellenic god and parochializing a regional goddess.
19 The irony remains that the further one moves from Archaic and Classical Pherai in chronology and geography, the closer the original association between the city and Ennodia appears, and ultimately it may be the case that these specifically Pheraian resonances rendered her an unsuitable divinity around whom a new Thessalian identity could be constructed when Flamininus refounded the league in 196: Ennodia is conspicuously absent from Thessalian coinage of the post-Flamininan era; decrees of the new League were not published in an Ennodia sanctuary, whether at Pherai or elsewhere in Thessaly; there is no evidence of League investment in any Ennodia sanctuary; no month of the Thessalian calendar in use after 196 appears to recognize the goddess. This negative evidence does not suggest that Ennodia became unpopular, however, for inscriptions indicate that she loomed as large in the cultic landscape of Hellenistic and Roman Thessaly as she did in the Classical period, if not larger. But the moment when Ennodia might have become truly a goddess of the Thessalians had passed, most likely in the fourth century.
Conclusion
20 The preceding case studies have attempted to show that the Thessalian civil wars which began at the end of the fifth century and continued to the middle of fourth were as often concerned with defining and contesting a regional Thessalian identity as with attaining battlefield supremacy. I have suggested that this dimension to these conflicts, which has been understandably downplayed in modern historiography given the state of the sources, found religious expression. The case of Apollo is relatively straightforward. Jason of Pherai, among the more politically astute statesmen of the fourth-century Greek world, planned a high profile Thessalian procession to Delphi. Concern with Jason’s ultimate concerns vis-à-vis Delphi and beyond has undercut the effect of these preparations within Thessaly. By 370 the undisputed and fully sanctioned hegemon of Thessaly, Jason’s intended theoria rekindled the long-standing Thessalian relationship with Delphi and offered Thessaly a signal opportunity to perform their newfound political unity under his leadership in cult. Ennodia posed different challenges for the tyrants of Pherai. It is clear that she assumed a high civic profile in the late fifth and early fourth centuries, and that the tyrants actively encouraged the association of their interests, and those of the polis as a whole, with her cult. Within this milieu there likely arose a discourse which claimed Pherai as the ultimate origin of other Ennodia cults in Thessaly and beyond. While this discourse may have reflected with some accuracy the historical circumstances of Ennodia cult and seems indeed to have become influential in the southern Greek world, it is significant that other Thessalian cults of Ennodia, with one exception, do not reflect it.
21 The most obvious general parallels for the type of activities discussed in this paper are Athenian. Athenian claims to Delos and their patronage of Delian Apollo in the fifth
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century attempted to foster not simply a pan-Ionian unity, but an especially elect status for Athens within this supra-ethnos; Athenian attempts to raise the status of a particularly “Athenian” Athena throughout the Delian League and to compel participation at the Panathenaia, Greater Dionysia, and Eleusinian Mysteries similarly attempted to redraw the cultic topography of the Delian League in a manner that underscored Athenian imperial dominance.39 While the formal structures and the detailed history of fifth-century Athenian hegemony within the Delian League discourage too precise a comparison with the less well-documented fourth-century Pheraian attempts at leading Thessaly, it is appropriate to speak of the cultic dimensions of power and identity in both cases, if not of “religious propaganda” outright.40
Endnote: Two fourth-century Thessalian proxeny decrees
22 The impetus for this study was furnished by a pair of unprovenanced fourth-century proxeny decrees published by Werner Peekin 1934 and virtually ignored since:41 One was issued by Pherai, the other is the earliest known decree of the Thessalian League.42 As work on this essay progressed, I came to realize that questions about their provenance were simply too severe for them to bear any weight of the argument and have thus relegated them to the present endnote. I reproduce them here in hopes of reintroducing them to a new audience and because they might provide intriguing evidence about Ennodia’s precarious existence between Pherai and Thessaly in the fourth century: [A] Pherai (?), early fourth century (letter forms), bronze tablet: Λυκίδαι καὶ ἀ|δελφεῶι ᾿Οπον|τίοις καὶ οἰκ|ιάταις ἔδωκα|μ Φεραῖοι προ|ξενίαν, ἀσυλ[ί]| αν, ἀτέλειαν. “To Lykidas43 and his brother, Opuntians, and their slaves, the Pheraians gave proxenia, asylia, ateleia”; [B] Unknown provenance, fourth-century (letter forms), bronze tablet: Εὐεργέται Χαλκιδεῖ | Πετθαλοὶ ἐδώκαιεν προ|ξενίαν καὶ ἀσυλίαν καὶ ἀ| [τέ]λειαν καὶ αὐτῶι καὶ γενε| ροστατευο̣ ́ντων Σορ|ικιδάων [κ]αὶ Κωτιλιδάων. “To Euergetes44 from Chalkis, the Thessalians45 gave proxenia and asylia and ateleia both to him and his family, while the Sorsikidai and the Kotilidai were serving as prostatai.”46
23 In his general comments about the two decrees, Peek notes that they were confiscated by Piraeus police some time earlier and that their true provenance could not be ascertained.47 Two facts suggest that [A] was originally published in the city of Pherai: First, the Pheraioi are clearly named as the issuing authority (ἔδωκα|μ Φεραῖοι προ| ξενίαν, ἀσυλ[ί]|αν, ἀτέλεια.“… the Pheraians gave proxenia, asylia, ateleia”); second, [A] compares well with a known series of proxeny decrees published by the Pheraioi, e.g., ᾿Αριστοκλέαι Σκοτ|οσσαίωι Φεραῖοι ἔδ|ωκαν προξενίαν | κα[ὶ ἀ]σ[υλία]ν | κ[αὶ ἀτ]έ[λει]αν | [α]ὐτῶι [καὶ χρή]μασι. “To Aristokles of Skotussa, the Pheraians gave proxenia and asylia and ateleia to him and his possessions.” 48Uncovered by A.S. Arvanitopoulos in his 1921 excavations at the large Doric templeof Ennodiain Pherai – though not published until 196449 – these securely provenanced decrees begin ca 450-425 and continue into the fourth century.50 [B] was also recovered by Piraeus police, an apparent product of illicit excavation. Given the absence of any kind of clause specifying where the decree was to be published and the inability to locate any habitual locus of publication for documents of the Thessalian League at this period in its history, one cannot argue with certainty about where the decree was initially published – one
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assumes a location somewhere in Thessaly, but can go no further.51 But since [A] most probably came from the great Doric temple at Pherai, like similar documents, and since Peek’s description of the circumstances of recovery does not suggest that the two inscriptions were seized at different times by the Piraeus police,it is at least reasonable to assume that they came from the same place.
24 My reconstruction of [B]’s initial locus of publication is admittedly speculative. If accurate, however, there is a range of possible motivations for publication of a decree of the Thessalian League in a Pheraian sanctuary of Ennodia – some banal (for example, perhaps the honorand Euergetes arranged to have this decree published at Pherai; perhaps the Sorsikidai and the Kotiliadai, the eponymous prostatai of the decree, had a close relationship with Pherai52), some less so (for example, perhaps the Pheraians during their ascendancy usurped the authority of the League in publishing a proxeny decree under their auspices or the Thessalian League in a moment of strength purposefully asserted their authority in a Pheraian sanctuary). Whatever the intent, the result would have been the conjuncture, however momentary, of Thessalian political authority with a Pheraian Ennodia sanctuary, an event of considerable interest given the political and religious environment described by the present essay.
NOTES
*. A preliminary version of this paper was presented at the 102nd Annual Meeting of the Classical Association of the Middle West and South which convened in Gainesville, Florida in April 2006; many thanks to the panelists and audience for useful discussion. This paper has also benefitted from the comments and criticism of K. Clinton, M. Langdon, and D. Tandy, who generously read earlier drafts. I alone am responsible for those errors which remain. 1. All dates BCE unless otherwise indicated. 2. Xenophon, Hellenica II, 3, 4. Unless otherwise indicated, all translations are my own. 3. On the topic of Greek identity, see especially J. HALL, Ethnic Identity in Greek antiquity, Cambridge, 1997, and id., Hellenicity: Between Ethnicity and Culture, Chicago, 2002. 4. Xen., Hell.VI, 4, 29: ἐπιόντων δὲ Πυθίων παρήγγειλε μὲν ταῖς πόλεσι βοῦς καὶ οἶς καὶ αἶγας καὶ ὗς παρασκευάζεσθαι ὡς εἰς τὴν θυσίαν· καὶ ἔφασαν πάνυ μετρίως ἑκάστῃ πόλει ἐπαγγελλομένῳ γενέσθαι βοῦς μὲν οὐκ ἐλάττους χιλίων, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα βοσκήματα πλείω ἢ μύρια. ἐκήρυξε δὲ καὶ νικητήριον χρυσοῦν στέφανον ἔσεσθαι, ἥτις τῶν πόλεων βοῦν ἡγεμόνα κάλλιστον τῷ θεῷ θρέψειε. 5. The recent Theban success at Leuctra and their subsequent emergence as a potential rival to Thessaly also may have provided an important external stimulus for such a display in 370. For a recent discussion of Pheraian and Thessalian politics ca 375-370, see S. SPRAWSKI, Jason of Pherae: a study of history of Thessaly in years 431-370 BC, Krakow, 1999, p. 79-114. 6. For an insightful reading of the pastoral realities of such a display (and the power which it conveyed), see T. HOWE, Pastoral Politics: Animals, Agriculture, and Society in Ancient Greece, Claremont, CA, 2008, p. 1-6, 118-120. 7. See J.K. DAVIES, Democracy and Classical Greece, Cambridge, MA, 19932 [1978], p. 240, who well describes Jason’s activities as an “essay in nation-building.”
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8. Theotonium: IG IX 2, 257, dated to the fifth century; Larisa: IG IX 2, 588, undated. See also B. HELLY, “À Larisa : bouleversements et remise en ordre de sanctuaires,” Mnemosyne n.s. 4 23 (1970), p. 250-296, who presents a second-century inscription from Larisa which mentions a Pythion. 9. See D. THEOCHARIS, “Χρονικά,” AD 16 B (1960), p. 175. A cult of Apollo Tempeitas is also attested in two inscriptions from Larisa: A. TZIAPHALIAS, “Ανέκδοτεςθεσσαλικέςεπιγραφές,” ΘΗ 7 (1984), p. 215-216, no. 94 (SEG 35, 607), dated to ca 100, and IG IX 2, 1034, undated. 10. Plutarch, Quaestiones Graecae, 12 (Mor., 293b-f) is the principal ancient source; cf. Stephanus Byzantinus, s.v. Δειπνιάς (ed. MEINEKE [1958], p. 223). For further discussion and problems of interpretation, see M.P. NILSSON, Griechische Feste von religiöser Bedeutung mit Ausschluss der Attischen, Stuttgart, 1906, p. 150-157; L.R. FARNELL, The Cults of the Greek States, Oxford, 1895-1909, vol. 4, p. 293-295. 11. A fifth-century dedication to Apollo Leschaios has been recovered from the chora of Larisa: IG IX 2, 1027a. The findspot has been tentatively associated with the Deipnias of myth (Aelian, Varia Historia III, 1); cf. B. HELLY, L’État thessalien. Aleuas le Roux, les tétrades et les tagoi, Lyon, 1995, p. 293. 12. SPRAWSKI, o.c. (n. 5), p. 123. 13. See, e.g., P. SÁNCHEZ, L’Amphictionie des Pyles et de Delphes, Stuttgart, 2001, p. 466-471; F. LEFÈVRE, L’Amphictionie Pyléo-Delphique: Histoire et Institutions, Paris, 1998, p. 1-20. 14. See G.A. LEHMANN, “Thessaliens Hegemonie über Mittelgriechenland im 6. Jh. v. Chr.,” Boreas 6 (1983), p. 35-43. 15. See SPRAWSKI, o.c. (n. 5), p. 118-132. 16. Diodorus Siculus, XVI, 35, 4-6. 17. Diod. Sic., XVI, 37, 3; XVI, 38, 1. 18. N.G.L. HAMMOND, G.T. GRIFFITH and F.W. WALBANK, A History of Macedonia, Oxford, 1972-1989, vol. 2, p. 220-230. 19. Polyaenus, Stratagemata VIII, 43. 20. The spelling of the goddess’ name varies between Ἐνοδία and Ἐννοδία. Cf. L. DUBOIS, “Zeus Tritodios,” REG 100 (1987), p. 461, who notes that “Ἐννοδία s’explique comme *ἐν-hοδία < *ἐν- σοδία exactement comme l’éolien homérique ἔννεπεest issu de *en-sekwe, lat. inseque. La forme sans géminée en Thessalie s’expliquerait alors, soit comme une influence de la koiné, soit comme une réinterprétation secondaire.” 21. Stathmia: IG IX 2, 577, a Hellenistic dedication from Larisa; Korillos: ed. pr. B.G. INTZESILOGLOU, “Χρονικά,” AD 35 B (1980), p. 272-273 (SEG 38, 450; P. CHRYSOSTOMOU,Η θεσσαλική θεά Εν(ν)οδία ή φεραία θεά, Athens, 1998, p. 110-111), a Hellenistic dedication from Pherai. Patroa: e.g., IG IX 2, 358, a Classical-Hellenistic dedication from Pagasai. 22. E.g., U. V. WILAMOWITZ-MOELLENDORF, Der Glaube der Hellenen, Basel, 19562 [1931-1932], vol. 1, p. 168-174, regarded her as among the group of “althellenische Götter” and stressed Ennodia’s distinctive combination of wrathful and kourotrophic features. M. NILSSON, Geschichte der griechischen Religion, Munich, 1961-19672-3 [1941-1950], vol. 1, p. 723, n. 4, noted that “Ennodia is common in Thessaly, where Hekate is missing” and suggested a connection with magic and ghosts. Cf. L.R. FARNELL, The Cults of the Greek States, Oxford, Clarendon, 1895-1909, vol. 2, p. 475-476; M. NILSSON, Greek folk religion, Philadelphia, 1940, p. 90-91. 23. CHRYSOSTOMOU, o.c. (n. 21), p. 104-133. 24. CHRYSOSTOMOU, o.c. (n. 21), p. 100. 25. CHRYSOSTOMOU, o.c. (n. 21), p. 268. 26. On the diffusion of Ennodia cult, see also L. ROBERT, “Une déesse à cheval en Macédoine,” Hellenica ΧΙ-ΧΙΙ (1960), p. 588-595, who emphasized the importance of the goddess in Thessaly and Macedonia and suggested that the goddess spread from Pherai to the north; and C. MORGAN, Early Greek States Beyond the Polis, London/New York, 2003, p. 139-140, who noted for the Early Iron Age
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and Archaic eras that “… so unusual [are the circumstances of the Pheraian cult] … that it does not seem surprising to find no secure material evidence for the worship of Enodia outside Pherai until the fifth century… To a great extent, the expanding political power of Pherai must have lain behind the spread of the cult; the decision to associate with such a distinctive deity must imply a deliberate sharing of values…” E. MASTROKOSTAS, “On the Grave Epigram from Pella, AAA X (1977) 259-263,” AAA 11 (1978), p. 196-197, had previously challenged this now dominant narrative and, drawing on a funerary epigram from Pella dated to ca 400-350 for a priestess of Ennodia, suggested that Ennodia cult was well-established at an early date in Macedon and may in fact have spread from there to the south. 27. Pausanias, II, 10, 7: κομισθῆναι δὲ τὸ ξόανον λέγουσιν ἐκ Φερῶν. 28. Paus., II, 23, 5: τὸ ἄγαλμα καὶ οὗτοί φασιν ἐκ Φερῶν τῶν ἐν Θεσσαλίᾳ κομισθῆναι. 29. Paus., II, 23, 5: σέβουσι γὰρ καὶ Ἀργεῖοι Φεραίαν Ἄρτεμιν κατὰ ταὐτὰ Ἀθηναίοις καὶ Σικυωνίοις. 30. Hesychius s.v. Φεραία (ed. SCHMIDT IV [1965], p. 236): Ἀθήνησι ξενικὴ θεός. Artemis Pheraia is epigraphically attested at Syracuse (late 4th – early 3rd century) and Dalmatian Issa (Hellenistic). See CHRYSOSTOMOU, o.c. (n. 21), p. 203-207. 31. Ed. pr. N. I. GIANNOPOULOS, “Επιγραφαί Θεσσαλίας,” AD 10 (1926), p. 52, no. 4. The text printed above is based on P. CLEMENT, “A Note on the Thessalian Cult of Enodia,” Hesperia 8 (1939), p. 200. This Mikkioun and Thersandros are otherwise unknown (LGPN 3 B s.v. Μικκίουν 1; Θέρσανδρος 6). 32. For the decrees, see ed. pr. Y. BÉQUIGNON, “Études thessaliennes, XI,” BCH 88 (1964), p. 400-412, nos. 1-13 (SEG 23, 415-432); for the identification of this sanctuary as belonging to Ennodia, see CHRYSOSTOMOU, o.c. (n. 21), p. 25-47. 33. S. MILLER, “The Altar of the Six Goddesses in Thessalian Pherai,” CSCA 7 (1974), p. 231-256 (SEG 45, 645). 34. See A. MOUSTAKA, Kulte und Mythen auf thessalischen Münzen, Würzburg, 1983, p. 110-111; CHRYSOSTOMOU, o.c. (n. 21), p. 141-146; B.V. HEAD, Historia numorum, a manual of Greek numismatics, Oxford, 1911, p. 307-309; P. GARDNER, Catalogue of Greek coins. Thessaly to Aetolia, London, 1883, p. 46-49, pl. X; SNG III Thessaly, no. 239, 242-3, 247. 35. For earlier, fifth-century Pheraian coinage, see HEAD, o.c. (n. 34), p. 307; GARDNER, o.c. (n. 34), p. 46, pl. X; SNG III Thessaly, no. 234-238. 36. IG ΙΧ 2, 575 (CEG Ι, 342; SEG 35, 590b). 37. M.H. HANSEN, in M.H. HANSEN and T.H. NIELSEN (eds.), An Inventory of Archaic and Classical Poleis, Oxford, 2004, p. 47, has recently observed that “the distinction between asty in the sense of urban center and polis in the sense of political community is not quite as sharp as sometimes believed.” 38. The improved text of P. CHRYSOSTOMOU, in Ὑπέρεια. Πρακτικά Γ᾿Διεθνοῦς Συνεδρίου Φεραί – Βελεστῖνο – Ρήγας, Athens, 2002, p. 209-213 (non vidi) (SEG 54, 561); ed. pr. A. TZIAPHALIAS, “Χρονικά,” AD 51 B (1996), p. 382, no. 1 (SEG 49, 622). 39. See, e.g., B. SMARCZYK, Untersuchungen zur Religionspolitik und politischen Propaganda Athens im Delisch-Attisches Seebund, Munich, 1990, passim, and R. PARKER, Athenian Religion, a History, Oxford, 1996, p. 142-145. 40. The phrase of J. P. BARRON, “Religious propaganda of the Delian League,” JHS 84 (1964), p. 35. 41. W. PEEK, “Griechische Inschriften,” MDAI 59 (1934), p. 56-57, no. 14-15. Also A.S. MCDEVITT, Inscriptions from Thessaly, an Analytical Handlist and Bibliography, Hildesheim, 1970, p. 32-33, no. 206, and p. 141, no. 1177. FLACELIÈRE and the ROBERTS do not offer significant commentary at BE 1938, no. 189. 42. The League decree is not mentioned by, e.g., J. LARSEN, Greek federal states: their institutions and history, Oxford, 1968; HELLY, o.c. (n. 11); or T. CORSTEN, Vom Stamm zum Bund: Gründung und territoriale Organisation griechischer Bundesstaaten, Munich, 1999.
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43. The honorand is not otherwise known; cf. LGPN 3 B s.v. Λυκίδας 2. 44. The honorand is otherwise unknown; cf. LGPN 1 s.v. Εὐεργέτας 1. 45. For the form Πετθαλοί, see W. BLÜMEL, Die aiolischen Dialekte, Göttingen, 1982, p. 121-124. 46. The identity of the Sorsikidai and Kotilidai is unknown; prostatai are attested only here as officers of the Thessalian League. It is difficult to understand in what capacity these presumably corporate entities (families, tribes, etc.) could have served as prostatai. PEEK, l.c. (n. 41), p. 57, was reminded of the role of the tribe in the Athenian system of prytanies. H. BECK, Polis und Koinon: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte und Struktur der griechischen Bundesstaaten im 4. Jahrhundert v. Chr., Stuttgart, 1999, p. 131, n. 66, is more cautious. 47. PEEK, l.c. (n. 41), p. 56, “G. Oikonomos verdanke ich die Erlaubnis zur Publikation der folgenden Bronzeinschriften, die vor längeren Jahren von der Polizei im Piräus beschlagnahmt worden sind. Über die genaue Herkunft war nichts zu ermitteln.” 48. Ed. pr. BÉQUIGNON, l.c. (n. 32), p. 405, no. 5 (SEG 23, 419). 49. BÉQUIGNON, l.c. (n. 32), p. 400-412. Y. BÉQUIGNON, Recherches archéologiques à Phères, Paris, 1937, p. 96-97, signaled the 16 years that had elapsed since the initial discovery of the tablets in the vicinity of the temple and their subsequent transport to the National Museum in Athens; he expressed his hopes for their speedy publication. 50. Palaiography unfortunately continues to furnish the best means of dating this series; as such, a firm terminus for the latest members of the series is lacking. C. HABICHT, “Städtische Polemarchen in Thessalien,” Hermes 127 (1999), p. 255 (SEG 49, 627), refers to a few lines from a still unpublished Pheraian proxeny decree, on stone, belonging, in his estimation of the inscription’s letter forms, to the second half of the fourth century; proxeny and “die mit ihr für gewöhnlich verbundenen Privilegien” were awarded to Thoas of Aitolia (?), [Θ]όαντι Α[ἰτωλῶι?]. The decree is dated by reference to the polemarchs of Pherai; provenance within Pherai is uncertain. The medium of publication, stone, contrasts with the Béquignon series (bronze), as does the dating formula; while Habicht’s decree is dated by polemarchs, the Béquignon series lacks such a formula in all but one case [ed. pr. BÉQUIGNON, l.c. (n. 32), p. 410, no. 11 (SEG 23, 425), dated by a local college of tagoi]. If Habicht’s decree reflects a change in the epigraphic habit at Pherai, it may indicate, however slightly, that the latest members of the Béquignon series are no later than the middle of the fourth century. Regarding the earliest members of the series, one notes initially that the transition from epichoric to Ionic script in Thessaly was lengthy and may in many cases have been dictated by the tastes of individual cutters/patrons; the situation in Boiotia was parallel, cf. G. VOTTERO, “L’alphabet ionien-attique en Béotie,” in P. CARLIER (ed.), Le IVe siècle av. J.-C. : approches historiographiques, Paris, 1996, p. 157-181. Ed. pr. BÉQUIGNON, l.c. (n. 32), p. 400-403, no. 1, 3 (SEG 23, 415-416) suggested an “archaic” date for these early inscriptions on the basis of palaiographical parallels with IG IX 2, 257, a bronze proxeny decree from Theotonium (cf. O. KERN ad IG IX 2, 257, however, where a fifth century date is suggested); M.B. WALLACE, “Early Greek Proxenoi,” Phoenix 24 (1970), p. 204, no. 22, agreed with Béquignon’s early dating. L.H. JEFFERY, The Local Scripts of Archaic Greece, Oxford, 19902 [1961], p. 99, no. 10, dated the Theotonion decree to 450-425, however, and SEG 23, 415-416 dated the palaiographically earliest decrees from Pherai accordingly. 51. In the post-196 period, league documents are published at the sanctuary of Athena Itonia near Philia and the sanctuary of Zeus Eleutherios in Larisa. 52. For a similar situation in Oropos, see D. KNOEPFLER, “Oropos et la Confédération béotienne à la lumière de quelques inscriptions ‘revisitées’,” Chiron 32 (2002), p. 143-150, who explains the publication of a series of Boiotian League proxeny decrees in the Amphiaraion ca 230-200 as an attempt on the part of some Oropians to capitalize at home on their high profile within the league (some served as federal archon, others presided over the federal assembly, others
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proposed the decree), and not as an indication that the Amphiaraion was a federal sanctuary at that time.
ABSTRACTS
This paper explores the politics of cult in early fourth-century Thessaly, a period of prolonged stasis throughout the region. Two case studies are offered: The first explores Jason of Pherai’s planned expedition to Delphi in 370 and its potential impact on Thessalian corporate identity; the second reconstructs the role of Ennodia in the Pheraian tyrants’ attempts to win regional hegemony.
Cet article étudie la politique cultuelle du début du IVe siècle en Thessalie, une période de stasis prolongée dans la région. Deux études de cas sont proposées. La première aborde l’expédition planifiée par Jason de Phères à Delphes en 370 et son impact potentiel sur l’identité thessalienne. La seconde étude reconstruit le rôle d’Ennodia au sein des tentatives des tyrans pour imposer leur hégémonie à la région.
AUTHOR
C.D. GRANINGER American School of Classical Studies at Athens 54, Souidias GR – 106 76 ATHENS [email protected] University of Tennessee-Knoxville Department of Classics 1101 McClung Tower KNOXVILLE, TN 37996 [email protected]
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Apollo Agyeus in Mesembria*
Ligia Ruscu
1 Der Kult des Apollon, des bedeutendsten Gottes der Kolonisation, ist an der westlichen Schwarzmeerküste gut bezeugt und wohlbekannt. Es handelt sich dabei hauptsächlich um Apollon Ietros, den Gott der milesischen Schwarzmeerkolonisten; aber auch die hiesigen dorischen Apoikien wenden sich an den Orakelgott, allerdings unter anderen Kultbeinamen.
2 In Mesambria wird der Kult des Apollon mehrfach bezeugt. Ein Tempel des Apollon wird in mehreren Inschriften erwähnt; er diente mindestens seit dem frühen 3. Jh. v. Chr. als Aufstellungsort für öffentliche Urkunden1. Die imago clipeata des Arztes Γλαυκίας Ἀθαναίωνος aus dem 1. Jh. v. Chr., eventuell vom Ende des Jahrhunderts2, ist die einzige mesambrianische Inschrift, die nach dem Namen des Apollon einen Kultbeinamen enthielt; leider ist dieser nicht erhalten.
3 Der von diesen Inschriften belegte Tempel war zweifellos das bedeutendste Heiligtum der Stadt, obwohl unter bestimmten Umständen auch andere Tempel3 als Aufstellungsorte für Dekrete dienten. Er ist wahrscheinlich mit dem Heiligtum auf der Agora zu identifizieren4. Ein weiterer Tempel stand vermutlich in der Nähe des Südhafens; von hier stammt ein Fragment einer Kolossalstatue des Gottes, mit langem Haar, fließendem Gewand und einer Kithara im linken Arm, so wie er auch auf mesambrianischen Münzen dargestellt wird; sie läßt sich vielleicht noch in das 4. Jh. v. Chr. datieren5. Leider gibt es noch keine archäologisch-stratigraphischen Hinweise für die Datierung des Tempels selbst6. Angesichts des Vorhandenseins zweier Tempel für dieselbe Gottheit wäre zu erwarten, daß die Aufstellungsbestimmungen der Inschriften angeben, um welchen davon es sich handelt. Dies ist aber nur bei der letzten der Fall, bei der Ehreninschrift für den Arzt Glaukias Sohn des Athanaion: Nur dieser Text enthielt ursprünglich eine Epiklese des Apollon. Da diese Inschrift (1. Jh. v. Chr.) erheblich später als die anderen (3. Jh. v. Chr.) ist, darf wohl angenommen werden, daß der Hafentempel des Apollon in dieser Zwischenzeit errichtet wurde und daß die Statue eventuell ursprünglich von woandersher stammte.
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4 Es ist nicht bezeugt, welches die Kultepiklesen des Apollon in dieser Stadt waren. Der Zweck der vorliegenden Zeilen ist es, einen Vorschlag für eine der möglichen Epiklesen zu bringen und die Hinweise vorzustellen, die den Vorschlag untermauern.
5 Betrachten wir zunächst die Mutterstadt Mesambrias, Megara. Hier war Apollon Pythios der erste Gott der Stadt und diese überragende Bedeutung seines Kultes wurde auch auf die megarischen Kolonien übertragen7. Deswegen wurde es oft als naheliegend betrachtet, diese Epiklese auch in Mesambria vorauszusetzen8; es wurde sogar vorgeschlagen, diese Epiklese in der Lücke nach dem Namen des Gottes im oben genannten Ehrendekret für den Arzt Glaukias zu ergänzen9. Allerdings stützt sich diese Annahme, außer dem Vorkommen mancher von Pythios abgeleiteter Eigennamen10, die es auch in ionischen Städten gibt, auf keinerlei Belege. Auch ist dies kein vereinzelter Sachverhalt an der westpontischen Küste. Die andere Stadt megarischen Ursprungs, Kallatis, ist von allen Schwarzmeerkolonien Megaras jene, die die meisten und deutlichsten Beziehungen zum delphischen Orakel aufweist11. Sie wurde κατὰ χρησμόν gegründet, infolge eines Spruchs höchstwahrscheinlich eben dieses Orakels12. Es ist also etwas befremdend, dass die Epiklese Pythios in Kallatis ebensowenig wie in Mesambria belegt ist13.
6 Dies mag darauf zurückzuführen sein, daß es einen Apollonkult gibt, der sich für Apoikien noch besser eignet als der Pythios. Apollon Agyeus, der Torhüter und Übelabwehrer14, gilt auch als dorischer Gott der Einwanderung, Eroberung und Inbesitznahme und ist als solcher besonders für Koloniegründungen geeignet. Ohne ein ausschließlich dorischer Kult zu sein, erscheint Agyeus vorwiegend in dorischen Städten (Argos, Tegea15, Megalopolis, Troizen, Ambrakia, Halikarnassos, Apollonia in Illyrien, aber auch Athen oder Orikos)16. Für Megara wird er vom Lokalhistoriker Dieuchidas, dem Verfasser der Megarika, als Wahrzeichen des Dorertums bezeugt17.
7 An der westlichen Schwarzmeerküste sind die Zeugnisse für seinen Kult nicht zahlreich und sie lassen sich alle, direkt oder indirekt, mit einem megarischen Ursprung in Verbindung bringen. Apollon Agyeus erscheint in Kallatis: Um die Zeitenwende wurde ein Ehrendekret in ein Jahr mit dem Eponymat des Apollon Agyeus datiert18. Dies ist nur eine unter mehreren Epiklesen des Apollon in dieser Stadt19. In Tomis wurde dem Apollon Agyeus gemäß eines Orakelspruches nach 170 n. Chr., in der Statthalterschaft des Legaten Niedermoesiens M. Macrinius Avitus Catonius Vindex20 und in der Amtszeit des Dispontarchen P. Flavius Theodorus, ein Altar errichtet21. Die Epiklese Agyeus ist die einzig erhaltene dieser Stadt; sie kommt in Milet und seinen Kolonien sonst nicht vor22. Es handelt sich hier wohl um eine Übernahme aus dem benachbarten Kallatis23, vielleicht bedingt durch die Zusammenhänge der römischen Zeit, als beide Städte zum κοινὸν τοῦ Εὐξείνου Πόντου gehörten: Ebenso setzte das euboische Orikos im Kontext der gemeinsamen Selbständigkeitsbestrebungen von Apollonia, Ambrakia, Epidamnos und Orikos gegen Philipp V. den aus Apollonia übernommenen Agyeus auf seine Münzen24.
8 Welche Hinweise erlauben uns, die Epiklese Agyeus mit dem Apollonkult in Mesambria in Verbindung zu bringen? Man muß hier zu einer anderen Gattung von Zeugnissen greifen. Allgemein haben in der griechischen Welt größere Verbreitung die ebenfalls agyeus genannten Steinsymbole des Apollon in der Form einer Spitzsäule oder eines Spitzpfeilers25. Das Vorkommen des Apollonpfeilers als Emblem auf Revers von Münzen wurde als propagandistische Wiederbelebung des Bewußtseins dorischer Zugehörigkeit gedeutet26.
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9 Dieser Apollonpfeiler erscheint in Megara und einigen seiner Kolonien. In Megara tragen Münzprägungen sein Bild27. Auch bezeugt Pausanias28 ein pyramidenförmiges Mal für Apollon Karinos, der die gleichen Merkmale wie Apollon Agyeus hat; dieser Stein erscheint vielleicht auch auf megarischen Münzen29. In Byzantion tritt der Agyeus auf der Rückseite von Münzen auf, die auf der Vorderseite den Apollonkopf tragen30.
10 Aus Mesambria selbst wurden bisher keine Münzen mit dem Agyeus entdeckt, man kann aber auf Belege aus dem benachbarten Anchialos zurückgreifen. Im Folgenden sollen die Beziehungen zwischen Mesambria und Anchialos untersucht werden, um zu prüfen, inwiefern der Sachverhalt in dieser letzteren Stadt auch für Mesambria relevant ist.
11 Anchialos wurde als ein Phrurion von Apollonia Pontica31 gegründet32 und wurde im frühen 2. Jh. v. Chr. von Mesambria erobert. Mit histrianischer Hilfe konnten die Apolloniaten ihre Festung zwar zurückerobern, sie zogen es aber vor, sie zu schleifen statt sie zu bemannen, vermutlich weil sie fürchteten, sie nicht behalten zu können33. Es ist allerdings wahrscheinlich, daß Anchialos nach dem Schleifen der Festung erneut unter die Herrschaft/Kontrolle Mesambrias gelangte34. Dies geschah noch während der hellenistischen Zeit: Plinius d. Ä.35 beschreibt Anchialos als nunc in ora Mesembria. Im 1. Jh. n. Chr. gehörte es zu einer der strategiae, in die das Thrakerreich eingeteilt war; mehrere Inschriften erwähnen Apollonios Eptaikenthou, der entweder den Titel eines στρατηγὸς Ἀνχιάλου36 oder eines στρατηγὸς τῶν περὶ Ἀνχιάλου τόπων trug 37. Trajan verlieh dem Ort den Polisstatus und die Stadt nannte sich fortan Ulpia Anchialos38; zwischen Antoninus Pius und Gordian prägte sie Münzen.
12 Die Kulte in Anchialos weisen Einflüsse aus Mesambria auf. In erster Reihe geht es dabei um die Einführung des Kultes der Demeter Malophoros, der durch eine Votivinschrift der Φιλήτ für die θεὰ Μαλοφόρος vom Anfang des 3. Jh. n. Chr. 39 belegt wird. Der Kult der Malophoros40 ist sonst eigentlich auf Megara und seine Kolonien beschränkt 41. Es gibt ihn weder in Apollonia (wo der Kult der Demeter allgemein bloß durch Terrakottastatuetten der Göttin42 belegt ist), noch in deren Mutterstadt Milet (die didymaische Epiklese der Demeter war, wie an vielen Orten sonst, Karpophoros / Karpotrophos43), noch sonstwo an der westpontischen Küste oder allgemein im Schwarzmeerbereich. Es ist also naheliegend anzunehmen, daß das Vorkommen der Malophoros in Anchialos auf mesambrischen Einfluß oder direkte Kontrolle zurückzuführen ist.
13 In dieselbe Richtung weisen auch die Zeugnisse für den Kult der ägyptischen Götter. Dieser war bereits in hellenistischer Zeit an der westpontischen Küste vorhanden und wurde in römischer Zeit fortgesetzt. Allerdings sind die Zeugnisse für den Kult der ägyptischen Götter in den westpontischen Städten, mit zwei Ausnahmen, eher spät, sie beginnen erst mit dem 1. Jh. v. Chr.44. Allein zwei Städte stechen hier heraus: das sind eben Mesambria und Anchialos.
14 Der Sarapiskult in Mesambria hat die solidesten und reichhaltigsten Zeugnisse unter den Städten der westlichen Schwarzmeerküste. Es handelt sich hier um einen regelrechten öffentlichen Kult mit eigenem Tempel45, der auch als Aufstellungsort für Urkunden diente46. Die Anzahl der Belege weist Mesambria als eines der wichtigsten Zentren dieses Kultes für diese Zeit im Bereich des Schwarzen Meeres und der Meerengen aus47. Die frühesten Zeugnisse stammen hier aus dem 3.- 2. Jh. v. Chr.48.
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15 In Anchialos weihte im 2. Jh. v. Chr. Πασίξενος Ἀντιφίλου an Sarapis und Isis nach seiner Genesung49. Dieses Zeugnis für die frühe Gegenwart des Sarapiskultes ist in dieser Stadt (in der die übrigen Belege des Kultes aus römischer Zeit stammen) so auffallend, daß angenommen wurde, der Stein (der in ein römerzeitliches Gebäude verbaut wurde) wäre aus Mesambria oder Apollonia hierher verschleppt worden50. In Apollonia gibt es aber keine Belege für den Kult der ägyptischen Gottheiten; die Annahme, die Herkunft des Steines sei Mesambria, bestätigt nur die Ähnlichkeit des Bildes der späthellenistischen Kulte in diesen beiden Städten. Es ist also denkbar, daß es sich hier um eine Übertragung aus dem benachbarten Mesambria handelt.
16 Die Kulte in Anchialos sind zwar unvollständig bekannt, die bestehenden Hinweise erlauben aber, sie als Wiederspiegelung der Lage in Mesambria zu betrachten, was der Herrschaft, der Kontrolle über oder dem Einfluss Mesambrias auf Anchialos in späthellenistischer Zeit zu verdanken ist. Dies bringt uns zurück zum Apollonkult.
17 Aus Anchialos stammen kaiserzeitliche Münzen mit der Darstellung des Pfeilers des Apollon Agyeus51. Dies läßt sich nicht über die Gründerstadt Apollonia erklären, in der es weder den Kult des Apollon Agyeus noch Darstellungen des Agyeuspfeilers gibt. Es ist anzunehmen, dass der Agyeus auf dieselbe Weise von Mesambria nach Anchialos gelangte wie die Kulte der Malophoros oder des Sarapis und dass sein Vorkommen auf den Münzen von Anchialos einen Hinweis für sein Vorkommen auch in Mesambria darstellt.
18 Somit erscheint also der Apollon Agyeus als ein spezifisch dorischer Kult, der von Megara in seine Schwarzmeerkolonien Byzantion und Kallatis, aber auch Mesambria wahrscheinlich bei deren Gründung als übelabwehrender und erobernder Gott übertragen wurde und der später als Wahrzeichen des Dorertums in der Form des Apollonpfeilers auf Münzen geprägt wurde. In diesem Zusammenhang ist anzunehmen, dass die nicht erhaltene Epiklese des Apollon in der Inschrift IGB I2, 315 von Mesambria eben Agyeus war. Dies wäre dann der Kultbeiname, unter dem Apollon in dem wichtigsten Tempel der Stadt verehrt wurde.
NOTES
*. Arbeit an dem vorliegenden Aufsatz wurde mir durch einen Aufenthalt an der Kommission für Alte Geschichte und Epigraphik des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts in München ermöglicht, wofür ich mich bei Herrn PD Dr. Rudolf Haensch bedanke. Mein besonderer Dank gilt Herrn Professor Heinz Heinen (Universität Trier), der eine erste Fassung dieses Aufsatzes durchlas und mir wertvolle Hinweise gab. Dank gebührt auch den Kollegen Dr. L. Vagalinski und Dr. Hr. Prezhlenov für ihre Hilfe. – Es wurden folgende Abkürzungen benutzt: CCET I: Z. GOČEVA, M. OPPERMANN, Corpus cultus equitis Thracii I. Monumenta orae Ponti Euxini Bulgariae, Leiden, 1979(EPRO, 74); IGB: G. MIHAILOV, Inscriptiones Graecae in Bulgaria repertae I-V, Sofia, 1958-1997; IGRR: R. CAGNAT et al., Inscriptiones Graecae ad res Romanas pertinentes, Paris, 1906-1927; ISM I: D.M. PIPPIDI, Inscripţiile din Scythia Minor I. Histria şi împrejurimile, Bucureşti, 1983; ISM II: I. STOIAN, Inscripţiile din Scythia Minor II. Tomis şi teritoriul său, Bucureşti, 1987; ISM III: Al. AVRAM, Inscriptions de Scythie Mineure III.
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Callatis et son territoire, Bucarest/Paris, 1999; RICIS: L. BRICAULT, Recueil des inscriptions concernant les cultes isiaques I-III, Paris, 2005; SIRIS: L. VIDMAN, Sylloge inscriptionum religionis Isiacae et Sarapiacae, Berlin, 1969 (RGVV, 28). 1. Proxeniedekret für und der Vertrag mit dem Thrakerfürsten Sadala, erste Hälfte oder um die Mitte des 3. Jh. v. Chr. (IGB I², 307 = ISE 123. Siehe zur Datierung G. MIHAILOV, „La Thrace aux IVe et IIIe siècles avant notre ère“, Athenaeum 39 (1961), S. 40-42 (zwischen 281 und 277 v. Chr.); L. MORETTI, ad ISE 123 (Mitte des 3. Jh. v. Chr. oder danach); vgl. L. RUSCU, Relaţiile externe ale oraşelor greceşti de pe litoralul românesc al Mării Negre, Cluj, 2002, S. 312-313; M. OPPERMANN, Die westpontischen Poleis und ihr indigenes Umfeld in vorrömischer Zeit, Langenweißbach, 2004 (ZAKS, 2), S. 143. Der Text nennt noch vier Vorgänger des Sadalas, denen am selben Ort Stelen errichtet wurden. Proxeniedekret für den Lehrer (Γ)λ(α)υκίας Ἀριστομένειος aus Kallatis (IGB I², 307bis = SEG 45, 870 = V. VELKOV (Hrsg.), Nessèbre III, Burgas, 2005, S. 159-160, Nr. 1) und Ehrendekret für Εὔφαμος Παυσανία (IGB I², 308bis), beide aus der zweiten Hälfte des 3. Jh. v. Chr. Ehrendekret aus dem 3. Jh. v. Chr. (IGB I², 308undecies). Proxeniedekret für den Asten Δε…. Δηζου aus dem 2. (3.?) Jh. v. Chr. (IGB I², 312). 2. IGB I², 315 = SEG 45, 2265. 3. Tempel des Dionysos: Ehrendekret, Bekränzung gelegentlich der Dionysia, 3. Jh. v. Chr. (IGB I², 308ter = CCET I 155 = V. VELKOV [Anm. 1], S. 160-162, Nr. 2); Tempel des Sarapis: Proxeniedekret, 2.- 1. Jh. v. Chr. (IGB V 5094 = M. TACHEVA-HITOVA, Eastern Cults in Moesia Inferior and Thracia (5th century BC – 4th century AD), Leiden, 1983 (EPRO, 95), S. 26-27, Nr. 45). 4. Hr. PREZHLENOV, „Mesambria“, in D.V. GRAMMENOS, E.K. PETROPOULOS (Hrsg.), Ancient Greek Colonies in the Black Sea, Thessaloniki, 2003, S. 162-163. 5. L. OGNENOVA-MARINOVA, „Mesambria Pontica”, in V. VELKOV, L. OGNENOVA-MARINOVA, Zh. CHIMBULEVA, Mesambria – Mesemvria – Nesebăr, Sofia, 1986, S. 34-35, 48-49; PREZHLENOV (Anm. 4), S. 162. 6. Siehe dafür neuestens D. SASSELOV, „Secteur du mur d’enceinte sud de Messémvria médiévale”, in VELKOV (Anm. 1), S. 127-158, besonders 136. 7. K. HANELL, Megarische Studien, Lund, 1934, S. 84-88, 164-174; Cl. ANTONETTI, „Le culte d’Apollon entre Mégare et ses colonies du Pont“, in A. FRAYSSE, É. GÉNY(Hrsg.), Religions du Pont-Euxin. Actes du VIIIe Symposium de Vani – Colchide (1997), Paris, 1999, S. 17-24, besonders 17-19. 8. L. ROBERT, „Les inscriptions grecques de Bulgarie”, RPh 33 (1959), S. 216; R.F. HODDINOTT, Bulgaria in Antiquity, London, 1975, S. 43-45; Al. AVRAM, ISM III, S. 93-94. 9. Z. GOČEVA, „Le culte d’Apollon dans les colonies grecques de la côte ouest-pontique“, Kernos 11 (1998), S. 233-234. 10. Στάττιον Πυθοδώρου in einer Grabinschrift des 4. Jh. v. Chr. (in Odessos gefunden, aber wahrscheinlich aus Mesambria stammend), IGB I², 102; die Tochter des Πυθίων in einer Grabinschrift des 3. Jh. v. Chr., IGB I², 335quater; Πυθοδωρο- in einer Ehreninschrift des 3. Jh. v. Chr., IGB I², 308septies, wahrscheinlich derselbe auch in IGB I², 308quater; Βότρυς Πυθοδώρου und sein Sohn Πυθόδωρος Βότρυος in einer Grabinschrift des 3. Jh. v. Chr., IGB I², 337bis; der Stratege Ἐπικράτης Πυθαγγέλου in einer Votivinschrift des späten 2.- frühen 1. Jh. v. Chr., IGB V 5103; der Stratege Ἀντίανδρος Πυθοδώρο in einer Votivinschrift des 1. Jh. v. Chr., IGB I², 324; der Stratege Πυθίων Πολυνίκου in einer Votivinschrift des 1. Jh. v. Chr., IGB I², 326. 11. Siehe dazu Al. AVRAM, „Un règlement sacré de Callatis“, BCH 119 (1995), S. 235-252; Al. AVRAM, F. LEFÈVRE, „Les cultes de Callatis et l’oracle de Delphes“, REG 108 (1995), S. 7-23. 12. Ps. Skymnos, 761-763; vgl. Al. AVRAM, ISM III, S. 9-11. 13. Siehe dazu Al. AVRAM, ISM III, S. 93-94, 110. 14. Siehe zu ihm M.P. NILSSON, Geschichte der griechischen Religion I. Die Religion Griechenlands bis auf die griechische Weltherrschaft, München, 1957, S. 544, 562-563.
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15. Siehe dazu M. JOST, „Quelques épiclèses divines en Arcadie : typologie et cas particuliers“, in N. BELAYCHE et al. (Hrsg.), Nommer les dieux. Théonymes, épithètes, épiclèses dans l’Antiquité, Turnhout, 2005, S. 396-397. 16. G. WENTZEL, s.v. „Agyieus“, RE I1 (1893), 909-910; K. WERNICKE, s.v. „Apollon“, RE II1 (1895), 41-42. 17. F. JACOBY, FGrHist III (Leiden 1950) B 485 (S. 449) fr. 2; vgl. HANELL (Anm. 7), S. 169; L. PICCIRILLI, ΜΕΓΑΡΙΚΑ. Testimonianze e frammenti, Pisa, 1975, S. 13-50, besonders 20-22. 18. ISM III, 30 = IGRR I, 656. 19. Apollon (?) Nomios (delphischer Orakelspruch aus dem 2. Jh. v. Chr., ISM III, 48B); Apollon Apotropaios (delphischer Orakelspruch aus dem 2. Jh. v. Chr. (ISM III, 49 = SEG 47, 2335); weitere Epiklesen lassen sich mittels des aus Megara übernommenen Kalenders von Kallatis erschließen: Πεταγείτνιος, Λύκειος, Ἀπελλαῖος und Λατοῖος. Siehe zum Kalender in Megara und seinen Kolonien zuletzt Al. AVRAM, „Les calendriers de Mégare et de ses colonies pontiques“, in FRAYSSE – GÉNY(Anm. 7), S. 25-31, mit weiterer Literatur. 20. Die genaue Datierung hängt von der Festlegung der Statthalterschaft des Catonius Vindex ab; diese wurde unterschiedlich zwischen 169-172 n. Chr. (E. DORUŢIU-BOILĂ, „Der Status von Moesia Superior unter Marcus Aurelius“, ZPE 68 [1987], S. 254-255), kurz nach 170 n. Chr. ( A. STEIN, Die Legaten von Moesien, Budapest, 1940, S. 48-49, 79), vor 177 n. Chr. (PIR V1, M22) und zwischen 180-182 n. Chr. (J. FITZ, Die Laufbahn der Statthalter in der römischen Provinz Moesia Inferior, Weimar, 1966) angesetzt. 21. ISM II, 116 = SEG 37, 633. 22. N. EHRHARDT, Milet und seine Kolonien. Vergleichende Untersuchung der kultischen und politischen Einrichtungen, Frankfurt/Main, 1983, S. 138 mit Anm. 471. 23. Ebd. 24. FEHRENTZ (Anm. 26), S. 143. 25. E. REISCH, s.v. „Agyieus“, RE I 1 (1893), 910-912; NILSSON (Anm. 14), S. 203-204; D. DOEPNER, Steine und Pfeiler für die Götter. Weihgeschenkgattungen in westgriechischen Stadtheiligtümern, Wiesbaden, 2002, S. 183-184. Siehe zum Agyeus auch E. DI FILIPPO BALESTRAZZI, „L’Agyieus e la città“, Centro ricerche e documentazione sull’antichità classica. Atti 11 (1980-1981), S. 93-108. 26. Siehe dazu V. FEHRENTZ, „Der antike Agyieus“, JDAI 108 (1993), S. 123-196, besonders 138-154. 27. HANELL (Anm. 7), S. 168-169. 28. I, 44, 2. 29. Siehe dazu FEHRENTZ (Anm. 26), S. 137 mit Anm. 152-154. 30. Siehe zu den Belegen FEHRENTZ (Anm. 26), S. 125 Anm. 14, 145-146. 31. Und nicht des illyrischen Apollonia, wie dies aus FEHRENTZ (Anm. 26), S. 142 hervorzugehen scheint. 32. EHRHARDT (Anm. 22), S. 62-64. 33. Die Ereignisse werden in der apolloniatischen Ehreninschrift für den histrianische Admiral Hegesagoras Sohn des Monimos beschrieben: ISM I 64 = IGB I², 388bis. Siehe dazu D.M. PIPPIDI, EM. POPESCU, „Les relations d’Istros et d’Apollonie du Pont à l’époque hellénistique. À propos d’une inscription inédite“, Dacia n.s. 3 (1959), S. 235-258; J. & L. ROBERT, BÉ 1961, 419; H. BENGTSON, „Bemerkungen zu einer Ehreninschrift der Stadt Apollonia am Pontos“, Historia 12 (1963), S. 96-104. Siehe auch O. BOUNEGRU, „L’expedition navale de l’amiral histrien Hegesagoras et la guerre sacrée d’Apollonie Pontique“, Pontica 40 (2007), S. 85-92. 34. J. & L. ROBERT, BÉ 1962, 202; H. SCHWABL, „Tradition und Neuerung in antiken Götterkulten im thrakischen Gebiet“, in R. PILLINGER (Hrsg.), Spätantike und frühbyzantinische Kultur Bulgariens zwischen Orient und Okzident, Wien, 1986, S. 17. 35. N.h. IV, 11, 45. 36. IGB I², 378; II, 743.
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37. R.M. DAWKINS, F.W. HASLUCK, „Inscriptions from Bizye“, ABSA 12 (1905-1906), S. 175-177, Nr. 1. 38. Vgl. IGB I², 369, 369bis, 370. 39. IGB I², 370bis = SEG 36, 1578. 40. Die einzige literarische Quelle dazu ist Pausanias I, 44, 3. Zur Deutung des Epithets siehe auch E. MANTZOULINOU-RICHARDS, „Demeter Malophoros: The Divine Sheep-Bringer“, AncW 13 (1986), S. 15-21. 41. Siehe dazu HANELL (Anm. 7), S. 174-177; V. VELKOV, „Demeter Malophoros“, in Roman Cities in Bulgaria. Collected Studies, Amsterdam, 1980, S. 117-124; SCHWABL (Anm. 34), S. 17. 42. Terrakottastatuette der Demeter und Persephone, frühes 5. Jh. v. Chr. ( I. VENEDIKOV et al. [Hrsg.], Apollonia I. Les fouilles dans la nécropole d’Apollonia en 1947-1949, Sofia, 1963, S. 803; vgl. OPPERMANN [Anm. 1] 98); Terrakottastatuette der Demeter, drittes Viertel des 5. Jh. v. Chr. (VENEDIKOV, ebd., S. 801). 43. Siehe J.E. FONTENROSE, Didyma: Apollo’s Oracle, Cult and Companions, Berkeley/London, 1988, S. 147-149. 44. Wenn man von Histria absieht, von wo eine Anfrage (ISM I, 5 = SEG 24, 1091 = SIRIS 709a = M. TACHEVA-HITOVA [Anm. 3], S. 15-16, Nr. 22 = RICIS 618/1101) an das Apollonorakel von Kalchedon über die Einführung des Kultes des Sarapis in die Stadt schon aus dem 3. Jh. v. Chr. bekannt ist, woher aber danach kein einziges weiteres Zeugnis für den Kult stammt, sind die ältesten Belege wie folgt: Tomis um ca. 100 v. Chr. (ISM II, 152 = SIRIS 706 = TACHEVA-HITOVA [Anm. 3], S. 11, Nr. 15 = RICIS 618/1003); Dionysopolis Mitte des 1. Jh. v. Chr. (IGB I², 13 = SIRIS 703 = TACHEVA-HITOVA [Anm. 3], S. 6-7, Nr. 9 = RICIS 618/0801); Kallatis (ISM III, 183 = SEG 47, 1132; TACHEVA-HITOVA [Anm. 3], S. 8, Nr. 12) und Odessos (P. GEORGIEV, „Plastique en bronze des Thermes romains à Varna“, Arheologija 20 [1978], 2, S. 35-36, Nr. 4; TACHEVA-HITOVA [Anm. 3], S. 19, Nr. 33) Römerzeit. 45. V. VELKOV, „Antike Tempel in Mesambria Pontica“, Klio 52 (1970), S. 465-471. 46. IGB V, 5094 = TACHEVA-HITOVA (Anm. 3), S. 26-27, Nr. 45 = RICIS 114/1403, 2.- 1. Jh. v. Chr. 47. VELKOV (Anm. 45), S. 465-471; ders., „Zum Kult der ägyptischen Gottheiten in Mesambria Pontica (2.- 1. Jh.)“, in Hommages à Maarten J. Vermaseren III, Leiden, 1978 (EPRO, 68), S. 1293-1295; TACHEVA-HITOVA (Anm. 3), S. 25-26; RICIS 618/1101. 48. IGB I², 322 ter = SIRIS 131a = TACHEVA-HITOVA (Anm. 3), S. 25, Nr. 42 = RICIS 114/1402 (Votivinschrift eines Vereins (?) an Sarapis, Isis, Anubis und Aphrodite); VELKOV (Anm. 1), S. 173-174, Nr. 22 (fragmentarisch). 49. IGB V, 5133 = SEG 29, 660 = RICIS 114/1301. 50. OPPERMANN (Anm. 1), S. 281, Anm. 2886, gefolgt von Al. AVRAM, „L’Égypte lagide et la mer Noire : approche prosopographique“, in A. LARONDE, J. LECLANT (Hrsg.), La Méditerranée d’une rive à l’autre. Culture classique et cultures périphériques, Paris, 2007, S. 129, Anm. 9. 51. Zu den Belegen siehe FEHRENTZ (Anm. 26), S. 140, Anm. 170.
RÉSUMÉS
Die Schutzgottheit der Stadt Mesambria war Apollon, dessen Epiklesen hier jedoch unbekannt sind. Ich bringe hier eine Argumentation zur Identifizierung einer solchen Epiklese. Apollon Agyeus, der Torhüter und Übelabwehrer, gilt als dorischer Gott der Einwanderung, Eroberung und Inbesitznahme. Der Agyeus wird auch mittels Steinsymbolen desselben Namens dargestellt
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(Spitzsäulen oder Spitzpfeiler). In Mesambria fehlt die unmittelbare Bezeugung des Agyeuskultes, es kommen aber Funde aus der Stadt Anchialos zur Hilfe. Diese, ursprünglich ein phrurion der ionischen Nachbarstadt Apollonia, wurde von Mesambria erobert und blieb in der hellenistischen Zeit unter deren Herrschaft oder zumindest Einfluß. Die Kulte in Anchialos wiederspiegeln jene von Mesambria, wie angesichts des Kultes der Demeter Malophoros und jenem der ägyptischen Gottheiten gezeigt werden kann. Aus Anchialos sind Münzen mit der Darstellung des agyeus- Pfeilers bekannt. Das Vorkommen von Symbolen eines ausgesprochen dorischen Kultes läßt sich durch den Einfluß Mesambrias erklären, woraus hervorgeht, daß es den Kult des Apollon Agyeus auch dort gab.
The main god of Mesambria was Apollo, whose cult epithets are however unknown here. I bring here arguments for the identification of one such epithet. Apollo Agyeus, the guardian of gates and repeller of evil, was also the Dorian god of immigration, conquest and occupation. The Agyeus was also represented by means of stone symbols of the same name (pointed columns, pointed pillars). At Mesambria, the direct attestation of the Agyeus cult is lacking, but we can use discoveries from the city of Anchialos. This was initially a phrurion of the Ionian neighbour city of Apollonia; it was conquered by Mesambria and during the Hellenistic epoch it remained under Mesambrian rule or at least influence. The cults of Anchialos mirror those of Mesambria, as can be shown based on the cults of Demeter Malophoros and on the cult of the Egyptian gods. From Anchialos come coins with the image of the agyeus-pillar. The appearence of symbols of an explicitly Dorian cult can only be explained by the influence of Mesambria, which means that the cult of Apollo Agyeus was also present there.
AUTEUR
LIGIA RUSCU Universitatea Babeş-Bolyai Cluj-Napoca Catedra de istorie antică Str. C. Daicoviciu 2 RO – 400020 CLUJ [email protected]
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Du placenta aux figues sèches : mobilier funéraire et votif à Thasos*
Irini-Despina Papaikonomou et Stéphanie Huysecom-Haxhi
Γιά τον πατέρα μου Παναγιώτη A. Παπαοικονόμου, ἰατρόν (1907-1970)
1 Deux objets en terre cuite provenant de Thasos sont à l’origine de cette étude. Le premier est une figue découverte dans le Thesmophorion dont l’extrémité ligneuse présente une particularité qui attire le regard. Le deuxième,trouvédans la tombe d’une petite fille du IVe siècle, est un groupe miniature présentant des objets qui se réfèrent au monde de la jeune fille et à son futur rôle de femme. Ces deux objets sont issus de contextes différents, le premier votif, le second funéraire, mais à l’analyse, ils ouvrent tous deux de nouvelles perspectives sur la manière dont les anciens ont usé de diverses métaphores imagées pour dire la fertilité et la régénération de la nature et des humains, pour évoquer la nourriture primitive et cultivée, le sauvage et le domestiqué, jusqu’à la question fondamentale de la mise au monde de nouveaux citoyens, autant d’éléments autour desquels la cité grecque est structurée. Mais avant d’ouvrir d’aussi larges perspectives, il convient de décrire les objets en question.
1. Présentation des figurines
1.1. Le modèle de figue en terre cuite provenant du Thesmophorion de Thasos
2 Le premier objet, un modèle de figue en terre cuite (Fig. 1a-b), a été trouvé dans le Thesmophorion de Thasos lors des fouilles menées par Claude Rolley de 1963 à 1965. L’objet, probablement découvert dans les remblais qui ont servi à rehausser le sol de la grande terrasse peu avant le milieu du IVe siècle, pourrait dater de la première moitié du Ve siècle pour des raisons techniques. Il n’est pas de fabrication locale, comme l’atteste la qualité de la terre utilisée. Sa texture et sa couleur évoquent les figurines corinthiennes de la fin de l’archaïsme et du début du classicisme retrouvées à Thasos :
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la figue du Thesmophorion, de facture similaire, leur est probablement contemporaine.La technique du modelage massif ne surprend guère de la part des coroplathes corinthiens habitués au modelage ou aux techniques mixtes, notamment durant la période archaïque. Des figues ont d’ailleurs été fabriquées dans les ateliers de Corinthe, puisqu’un exemplaire, de type différent, avec la chair et les grains apparents, a été trouvé dans le quartier des Potiers1.
Fig. 1a-b : Modèle de figue en terre cuite du Thesmophorion de Thasos, vues latérales [clichés S. Huysecom-Haxhi].
3 L’objet, complet, est parvenu dans un bon état de conservation, en dehors de quelques éraflures en surface. Si de très légères traces de couverte blanche sont encore visibles au creux des sillons, aucun reste de peinture n’a été conservé. Ses dimensions maximales sont de 3,2 cm en hauteur et 5 cm en largeur. L’objet a été réalisé très certainement à partir d’une seule balle d’argile, mise en forme avec les doigts et travaillée à l’aide d’une pointe. Après une mise en forme générale, la surface en dessous a été enfoncée, soit avec le doigt, soit avec une tige, pour former une petite cavité aux contours irréguliers, à partir de laquelle ont été tracés les trois sillons les plus profonds qui divisent la surface en trois zones inégales (Fig. 2). Chacune de ces zones a ensuite été remplie de stries courbes et verticales qui permettent de délimiter des bourrelets assez larges et de forme irrégulière. Sur le dessus (Fig. 3), un fin cordon de pâte, sans doute dégagé initialement de la masse, a été enroulé sur lui-même puis posé sur la surface. Également sur le dessus, l’objet est percé d’un trou d’évent pour éviter qu’il n’éclate au moment de la cuisson.
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Fig. 2 : Modèle de figue en terre cuite du Thesmophorion de Thasos, vue du dessous [cliché S. Huysecom-Haxhi].
Fig. 3 : Modèle de figue en terre cuite du Thesmophorion de Thasos, vue de dessus [cliché I.- D. Papaikonomou].
4 La forme générale est celle d’une figue arrivée à maturité, qui commence seulement à s’ouvrir, comme l’indiquent les profonds sillons qui rident la surface ainsi que
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l’éclatement de la peau au niveau de l’ostiole. Sur le dessus, l’enroulement de la petite queue à la forme et aux dimensions inhabituelles, ainsi que ses extrémités qui se confondent avec la chair du fruit, attirent l’attention du spectateur : au lieu de figurer une extrémité ligneuse de figue, ils frappent l’œil en laissant l’impression d’une sorte de cordon ombilical entortillé sur lui-même, comme si c’était par là que l’artisan avait voulu attirer notre regard sur l’objet2.
5 En ce qui concerne la partie inférieure de la figue thasienne, le parallèle le plus proche provient d’une tombe de Cumes (Fig. 4a) dans laquelle ont été trouvés d’autres modèles de fruits en terre cuite, notamment une grenade et une poire3. La photographie publiée montre le dessous du fruit, avec une double fente et la surface marquée de stries aussi profondes que sur l’exemplaire thasien. Un exemplaire provenant de Délos (Fig. 4b)4 est traité d’une façon tout à fait similaire, si ce n’est que la section courbe donnée à la fente confère à l’ensemble un aspect moins réaliste, du moins d’après ce que l’on peut discerner sur la photographie de la publication déjà ancienne des terres cuites de Délos.
Fig. 4a-c : Modèles de figues en terre cuite provenant de Cumes (4a : en haut à gauche), de Délos (4b : en haut à droite), et du quartier des Potiers (4c : en bas), d’après LAUMONIER, o.c. (n. 4), n° 1389, p. 288, pl. 100; SCATOZZA-HÖRICHT, o.c. (n. 3), RIIa1, p. 109-110, pl. 24; STILLWELL, o.c. (n. 1), n° 16, p. 237-238, pl. 52.
6 Un exemplaire provenant du quartier des Potiers à Corinthe (Fig. 4c) montre un degré de maturité beaucoup plus avancé, la peau éclatée s’ouvrant largement pour dévoiler l’intérieur du fruit dont la pulpe charnue est rendue avec une précision remarquable. La couleur noire conservée sur la surface externe de l’objet correspond bien à la description de la κορώνα, figue noire précieuse, sœur de la vigne selon Hipponax et, par conséquent, aux allusions sexuelles aussi qui lui sont associées5.
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1.2. Groupe miniature à l’enfant de la nécropole du terrain Myrôni à Thasos
7 Le second objet a été trouvé en 2004 lors des fouilles dirigées par S. Papadopoulos et M. Sgourou6 dans la nécropole classico-hellénistique de Liménas à Thasos. La tombe 59 a livré d’autres objets renvoyant à l’identité d’une petite fille de moins de 10 ans.
Fig. 5 : Groupe de figurines en terre cuite, tombe 59, terrain Myrôni, Liménas, Thasos, fouille S. Papadopoulos et M. Sgourou [cliché S. Huysecom-Haxhi].
8 Tel qu’il a pu être reconstitué, ce groupe miniature en terre cuite (Fig. 5) réunit sur une base circulaire une figurine d’enfant nu assis entourée de quatre objets de formes et de dimensions différentes. Le haut du buste, la tête et les bras ont été retrouvés dispersés dans la tombe (Fig. 6). La figurine représente une fille d’environ 10-12 ans, les bras tendusen direction d’un des deux objets présentés devant elle, soit l’objet pyramidal, posé entre ses jambes, soit celui qui recouvrait sa jambe droite. À la droite de la fille se trouvent deux autres objets, l’un en forme de dôme, l’autre, placé justederrière, en forme de plat creux, sur le bord duquel repose un petit élément plat et étroitqui se présente sous la forme d’un angle de 90° (Fig. 5).
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Fig. 6 : Fragments de figurine associés au même groupe [cliché I.-D. Papaikonomou].
9 Mais l’objet qui nous intéresse par sa forme et par ses dimensions se trouve sur la gauche du personnage et semble représenté à la même échelle que lui. Cet objet rond et volumineux est caractérisé par des sillons, comme des cannelures, qui partent en éventail depuis le milieu de la partie supérieure, constitué par une sorte de « nombril » bombé, convexe, légèrement décentré et cassé sur l’un de ses côtés, entouré d’un fin cordon de pâte (Fig. 7). Ces sillons profondément incisés et le « nombril » évoquent à la fois une sorte de baluchon resserré au-dessus par un nœud, une figue mûre, ou encore un gâteau ou un pain. Bien que rond à la base, l’objet n’est pas parfaitement symétrique. Il semble affaissé sur le côté gauche, ce qui entraîne un léger déplacement du « nombril » dans cette direction (Fig. 8).
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Fig. 7 : Figurine de gâteau à sillons et omphalos [cliché S. Huysecom-Haxhi].
Fig. 8 : Détail, aspect dissymétrique du gâteau [cliché S. Huysecom-Haxhi].
10 Ces deux objets, d’un côté la figue corinthienne, de l’autre l’objet rond et volumineux du groupe miniature, ont en commun une surface d’aspect strié et veiné qui rappelle celle de figues à des états de maturité différents. Le point culminant et convergent de leurs stries est l’extrémité ligneuse pour la figue, et le « nombril » pour le gâteau-figue.
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Il nous semble dès lors que nous pourrions avoir affaire à un cordon ombilical sur la figue et à un bout de cordon correspondant au nombril, si ces surfaces sillonnées étaient bien vues comme les surfaces intensément vascularisées d’un placenta humain. C’est l’hypothèse que nous souhaitons étayer dans les pages qui suivent.
1.3. Le placenta a-t-il été représenté dans l’Antiquité grecque ?
11 Dans ce monde qui ne pratiquait pas la dissection du corps humain pour des raisons culturelles liées, avant tout, à la notion de souillure (μίασμα) entourant la mort7, l’intérieur du corps n’était connu que par comparaison avec les animaux. Le placenta était le seul « organe » interne, éphémère, visible uniquement par des femmes, sages- femmes, et quelques médecins et assistants aux accouchements8. Son absence des listes d’offrandes dédiées aux divinités guérisseuses s’explique en partie par le fait qu’il ne s’agit pas d’un organe à soigner; comme l’utérus9, il n’apparaît pas parmi les offrandes anatomiques conservées10, peut-être parce que sa représentation réaliste relèverait du même interdit, la naissance étant associée à la notion d’impureté11. Cette absence n’implique pas que le placenta, étroitement associé à la reproduction de plusieurs êtres, n’était pas porteur de pouvoirs susceptibles de favoriser l’acte procréateur pour les Grecs12. Les artisans n’ont pas nécessairement renoncé à donner une forme plastique à cet organe et pourraient avoir choisi un procédé détourné original.Si le placenta, en tant qu’organe réel n’a laissé aucune trace archéologique, même enfoui rituellement dans la terre, les coroplathes en ont peut-être laissé des représentations ambiguës que seule la remise dans leur contexte peut permettre d’éclairer.
12 Rappelons que comme les peintres, les coroplathes ont souvent construit leurs objets13 en jouant sur les mots et les images. L’interdit de l’impur et probablement une forme de dégoût pourraient les avoir conduits à rendre le placenta, non pas de manière réaliste, mais en opérant une transposition métaphorique.
2. Modèles de figue en terre cuite et leur interprétation
2.1. Modèles de figues en contexte
13 Voir plus loin, l’annexe.
2.2. Valeurs de la figue et du figuier dans l’antiquité
14 Dans l’aire méditerranéenne, le figuier était étroitement associé à l’idée de génération et de valeur nourricière par son fruit évoquant les testicules14 et par sa sève blanche, assimilée au lait maternel. En Grèce, la sève du figuier, ἡ συκῆ, arbre de genre féminin, a été aussi assimilée au lait maternel. La même idée existe en Égypte pour le sycomore, ἡ συκομορέα, figuré sous la forme d’Isis en train d’allaiter, par ses seins qui sont des figues, le roi Thoutmosis III15. Cette image métaphorique de figue-mamelle associée à la sève de l’arbre se retrouve chez Galien qui n’hésite pas à affirmer que la figue est comme une mamelle qui dispense un lait nourricier, car elle constitue la meilleure des nourritures pour engraisser. Dans un sens analogue, mais plus direct, Athénée rapporte que, selon Hérodote le Lycien, la pulpe des figues était la nourriture la plus propice aux nouveau-nés. Dans cette métaphore, la sève de l’arbre est perçue comme l’équivalent de
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son sang par analogie à un être vivant16. Comme le sang menstruel, qui nourrit le fœtus, se transforme en lait maternel, c’est-à-dire en sang blanchi, une fois l’enfant né, la sève blanche du figuier peut être aussi perçue comme le « lait » de l’arbre. Les auteurs médicaux utilisent aussi l’image de la sève du figuier pour expliquer le phénomène de la conception17. Aristote décrit ainsi comment une goutte de sève de figuier permet de coaguler le lait18 dans la fabrication du fromage, comme le sperme, le sang des règles19.
Fig. 9a-b : Figues sèches [clichés S. Huysecom-Haxhi].
15 La figue, σῦκον20,se prête encore à d’autres jeux de mots concernant la génération.Si en Égypte les figues étaient associées aux seins d’Isis et aux testicules d’Osiris, en Grèce, le fruit est associé au sexe de la femme « dont il constitue un substitut langagier »21. Aristophane (Paix) fourmille d’allusions aux figues et aux fruits pour désigner les jeunes filles. La métaphore de Strattis est explicite : « J’ai vu en rêve la concubine d’Isocrate, Lagiska, et je cueillis sa figue »22. P. Brulé résume de manière incomparable une partie essentielle de la philosophie d’Aristophane dans la phrase : « vivre heureux, sans souci, cueillir des figues »23. Le terme ἰσχάς, qui désigne la figue sèche24 (Fig. 9a, b), désigne, lui aussi, le sexe féminin par sa forme allongée et par son apparence fripée. Il apparaît comme tel chez Hipponax (124)25.
16 Un olivier, un pied de vigne et un figuier accompagnés d’une fontaine représentaient pour les anciens l’abondance, la paix, le bonheur, que cela soit dans le monde de la Bible, ou dans l’oikos et les hiera26. Fruit précieux, sa valeur « dépassant » celle de l’or27, la figue serait, selon le témoignage d’Athénée, l’expression de la vie civilisée et même de la vie « pure »28. Sa valeur cathartique aide à éloigner les souillures. Des figues sont suspendues au cou des pharmakoi que l’on expulse de la cité aux Thargélies, et composent l’eiresiônè, offerte à Apollon lors des Pyanopsies afin d’assurer la maturation de la récolte en éloignant tout mal qui pourrait la contrarier29. Considérée en Attique comme le premier composant de la nourriture civilisée, ἥμερος τροφή30, elle est par conséquent l’ἥμερος καρπός par excellence, censé subir pendant la maturation une sorte de cuisson sous l’effet du soleil et de l’humidité, caractérisant la civilisation, à la différence des glands. Dans ce sens, elle constitue l’équivalent du fœtus qui cuit comme un fruit à l’intérieur de l’utérus. Les Hippocratiques utilisent l’exemple de la plante pour décrire le processus du développement du fœtus : « échauffée par le soleil, (elle) se met à bouillir aux extrémités et devient le fruit31 ».
17 Ainsi, depuis l’Antiquité, la figue était au monde végétal ce que le porc ou le sanglier étaient au monde animal32 : un puissant symbole de la génération et de la fécondité, qui,
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dans son cas, était accompagné par des vertus apotropaïques ou cathartiques signalant aussi le passage à un monde civilisé consommant de la nourriture « cuite ». Par sa forme associée avant tout au sexe de la femme, et parfois aux testicules et au sexe de l’homme, par sa valeur nourricière associée au lait maternel, par la métaphore lactique et la coction que la sève du figuier permet, par sa nature de fruit qui évoque la régénération de la nature et même la nature de l’enfant (n. 31), la figue a tout pour évoquer la fécondité et la fertilité. Si l’on ajoute à ces facteurs le plaisir que sa dégustation procurait aux Grecs au point de la comparer au vin et à l’acte sexuel, nous comprenons facilement pourquoi elle valait plus que de l’or et pourquoi elle constituait un signe d’abondance et de prospérité pour l’oikos. Lors du rite des katachusmata on répandait des figues et des noix sur la tête des époux au moment où ils franchissaient le seuil de leur maison33. L’association d’idées entre la récolte, les figues et la reproduction humaine se lit clairement dans le vœu exprimé par les vers d’Aristophane34 quand Trygée demande aux dieux « de (leur) accorder … de l’orge en quantité, du vin à foison et des figues à croquer, de rendre (leurs) femmes fécondes… ». La figue devient la métaphore explicite du sexe féminin à la fin de la même pièce : τῆς δ’ ἡδύ τὸ σῦκον 35. L’importance de ce fruit polysémique nous amène à proposer de voir dans ses représentations figurées une image du sexe féminin, voire du placenta, promesse d’une progéniture attendue ou d’enfant en éclosion.
2.3. Le placenta
18 Le terme placenta utilisé en anatomie dérive du nom latin d’un gâteau rond, provenant lui-même du mot grec plakounta utilisé pour le gâteau (§ 3.3.) (Fig. 10).Il s’agit d’une masse molle en forme de gâteau circulaire qui, pendant la gestation, sert d’interface pour les échanges physiologiques entre la mère et l’enfant, c’est-à-dire l’utérus et le fœtus; il fait partie du délivre expulsé après l’accouchement, qui mesure alors 15 à 22 cm de diamètre, 3 à 4 cm d’épaisseur. Ce tissu, onctueux au toucher et spongieux, a des alvéoles qui contiennent du sang. Il est composé de deux parties : l’une formée par l’embryon, la partie fœtale (Fig. 11), dans laquelle s’insère le cordon ombilical, l’autre par la mère, la partie maternelle. La circulation fœtale est complètement séparée de la circulation maternelle pour protéger le fœtus36.
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Fig. 10 : Placenta humain, cliché professionnel, aspect de gâteau civilisé.
Fig. 11 : Placenta humain, face foetale; on distingue les textures variées des membranes [cliché I.-D. Papaikonomou].
19 La partie fœtale qui relie le placenta au fœtus se caractérise par la villosité qui se termine dans la partie maternelle (Fig. 12a-b). Le cordon ombilical, long de 50 cm environ, s’insère à travers la partie fœtale pour atteindre le centre du placenta.La
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partie maternelle (Fig. 12b) siège dans la portion de la muqueuse utérine où la membrane ovulaire, le chorion, et les villosités s’implantent; la caduque, la membrane correspondant à la muqueuse utérine se transforme pour donner la plaque basale et la plaque choriale, solidement ancrée dans la muqueuseutérine par les villosités- crampons.
Fig. 12 : Dessins du placenta humain d’après le dictionnaire Larousse Médical Illustré, Paris, 1924 (figures 1757, 1758, 1759); 12a. Face foetale A : Face foetale, B: Chorion, C: Amnios, D: Cordon ombilical; 12b. Face maternelle B : Chorion se continuant avec le bord du placenta, C : Cotylédons.
20 Quelques minutes après l’expulsion de l’enfant et la coupure du cordon, le placenta se détache. Il constitue ce que l’on nomme vulgairement le délivre ou l’arrière-faixqui comprend le cordon ombilical, le placenta proprement dit et enfin trois membranes de solidité et de texture différente : la caduque, friable, laissant apparaître les cotylédons de la face maternelle (Fig.13 à comparer avec la Fig. 4c)37, le chorion, résistant, qui continue le bord du placenta et enfin l’amnios qui est la poche des eaux.La face fœtale, lisse et luisante, est tapissée par une membrane transparente, laissant apparaître en relief une vascularisation intense et diffuse en forme d’éventail (Fig. 14). La vascularisation se laisse apercevoir en soulevant l’amnios (Fig.12a)38.
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Fig. 13 : Placenta face maternelle, utérine [cliché I.-D. Papaikonomou].
Fig. 14 : Placenta face foetale. Relief de la vascularisation et insertion du cordon [cliché I.-D. Papaikonomou].
21 Hippocrate utilise, comme Aristote, le terme χόριον39pour désigner le placenta et les membranes qui l’entourent.Le chorion et l’amnios sont les deux membranes qui permettent au placenta de s’adapter à la poche extérieure qu’elles forment : si on le
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laisse à plat sur une surface, il reprend sa forme de gâteau, ou de figue énorme et affaissée (Fig. 9, 11, 14); si on le soulève, il peut prendre, comme les testicules, la forme d’une figue, ἰσχάς40 (Fig. 15).
Fig. 15 : Placenta soutenu par le cordon ombilical et les membranes [cliché I.-D. Papaikonomou].
22 Les différences de taille mises à part, les analogies formelles nous permettent de comprendre les associations mentales qui s’opèrent entre l’image du placenta suspendu par les membranes et le cordon, la figue, les testicules.
2.4. L’offrande du Thesmophorion : figue-placenta, Mutterfrucht
23 Sous quelle forme schématique un artisan qui n’a pas eu l’occasion de voir un placenta pourrait-il le rendre ? Peut-être sous la forme d’un fruit, comme la figue, en superposant, par un jeu de métaphores, l’image du fruit employé pour désigner le sexe de la femme à celle du placenta, un ensemble réuni dans l’imaginaire grec. La figue du Thesmophorion le démontre : elle se termine en une excroissance ligneuse qui évoque un cordon ombilical. L’artisan utilise ainsi la figue comme fruit pour évoquer le sexe de la femme et son potentiel fécondant; la figue devient aussi le placenta sur lequel se place le cordon ombilical. C’est ce cordon qui introduit notre regard et conduit notre pensée sur la signification de l’offrande et son rôle dans ce sanctuaire précis de Thasos (Fig. 3).
24 Ce fruit mûr est offert à Déméter. L’origine corinthienne de l’objet évoque les Thesmophories et l’importance du sanctuaire des flancs de l’Acrocorinthe. L’offrande a pu être présentée le troisième jour de la fête, la Kalligéneia, pour obtenir la promesse d’une belle progéniture et écarter toute possibilité de perdre l’enfant avant le terme. Offrir à une divinité un placenta réel aurait rencontré l’obstacle de l’interdit de la souillure.
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3. Le cru, la fille et le cuit : plakous, placenta et rites de passage
3.1. Les objets du groupe miniature de la tombe T59
25 Au premier abord, l’ensemble pourrait être interprété comme une petite poupée accompagnée de son baluchon et d’autres jouets, voire d’une dînette.Nous avons déjà eu l’occasion de démontrer41 qu’une poupée nue n’a pas, dans un contexte funéraire, la simple fonction de jouet, mais se réfère à un rite en rapport avec la procréation et la maturation sexuelle de la fille. Dans ce cas, le baluchon laisserait la place à un gâteau- pain, peut-être sacrificiel et celui-ci ainsi que les objets en forme de pyramide et de dôme constitueraient des gâteaux que l’onretrouve sur les reliefs des banquetshéroïques42 nommés δεύτεραι τράπεζαι, ἐπιδορπίσματα, ἐπιφορήματα ou τραγήματα43, voire ἐπαίκλεια44, à la seule différence que ces reliefs concernent les hommes adultes et non les enfants45.
26 Concernant le monde des vivants, le gâteau en forme de dôme pourrait correspondre aux σησαμίδες46 faits de miel, de grains de sésame grillés et d’huile, ou aux τρωκτὰ σησάμου καὶ μέλιτος, nourriture des enfants dans le culte d’Artémis à Samos 47.Le gâteau de forme pyramidale doit être, selon le dictionnaire de P. Chantraine, la πυραμίς, faite de grains de froment grillés mélangés à du miel.
27 L’objet plat correspond alors à un mortier miniature dont le pilon, en forme de doigt plié, rappelle à notre mémoire qu’il était d’usage de moudre à la main les céréales entre deux pierres plates (Fig. 5)48.
28 Les motifs de gâteaux se trouvent sur des plateaux miniatures en terre cuite dans des contextes votifs, comme les sanctuaires de Déméter à Corinthe49, d’Héra à Samos50, de Tirynthe51, ou de la Pnyx52.Notre figurine ne pourrait-elle se rapporter à une pratique cultuelle concernant des divinités kourotrophes ou en rapport avec la maternité, comme Artémis ?La petite défunte était cependant trop jeune pour être associée aux Thesmophories. Le groupe nous semble faire allusion aux rites accomplis par les jeunes filles, tels que nous les connaissons par les vers de la Lysistrata53. Les gâteaux représentés autour de la figurine pourraient être préparés par la jeune fille elle-même afin d’être offerts à la divinité protectrice concernée pour marquer le passage d’une classe d’âge à l’autre. L’interprétation du matériel funéraire miniature comme signe des fonctions cultuelles de la défunte dans le cadre de la cité est bien connue depuis l’étude de E. Buschor sur le mobilier funéraire miniature d’une jeune Athénienne54. Le groupe miniature de Thasos pourrait avoir représenté un moment solennel dans la vie d’une fillette de l’élite thasienne. Mais dans quelle mesure peut-on transposer ce que l’on sait des rituels athéniens sur les pratiques thasiennes ?
3.2. Le gâteau rond : pour quel culte ?
29 Le gâteau qui nous intéresse peut faire partie des offrandes non sanglantes. Tous ces gâteaux sont appelés « gâteaux » ou « pains », la distinction au niveau du vocabulaire n’est pas claire55. Ce qui importe, c’est qu’elles ne font pas souvent l’objet d’étude en tant qu’offrandes sacrificielles56 et notre groupe, par son contexte précis, présente une occasion supplémentaire d’étudier ce gâteau présenté
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exceptionnellement à côté d’un personnage.Le défunt étant un individu déterminé, les dédicants, les proches, son âge, sa mort précoce et les objets entourant la poupée du groupe miniature semblent renvoyer aux rites marquant les étapes de l’enfance et aux services religieux concernant les jeunes filles.L’information que ce contexte funéraire nous offre est importante puisqu’elle s’ajoute aux rares données dont nous disposons sur les dédicants des gâteaux dans la sphère religieuse.
30 Mais pourquoi était-il important d’offrir un gâteau de forme précise ? Selon E. Kearns, sa forme, sa taille et ses ingrédients se rapportent, non aux qualités particulières de la divinité, mais à la spécificité du culte57. L’objet de Thasos fait, de la même manière, partie de la définition d’un culte ou d’une divinité spécifique58. Nous l’analyserons avec l’ensemble des objets qui l’entourent et lui donnent sens, et nous examinerons son rapport avec le placenta et l’enfant.
3.3. Le πλακοῦς, le placenta, Mutterkuchen
31 Ce gâteau nous semble représenter le πλακοῦς, terme dérivant de πλακόεις qui désigne le pain59. Le plakous est un popanon épais de grandes dimensions qui comporte, selon Phanias60, des sillons sur les côtés61 et un omphalos au milieu, ce qui en fait un gâteau monomphalon. Il est, par conséquent, un popanon monomphalon spécifique, les termes popanon et plakous ayant fini par se banaliser pour signifier des gâteaux de forme ronde62. Le popanon est un gâteau plat, fin et rond 63. Dérivant du verbe πέπτω, il correspond au gâteau cuit au four. Offert à plusieurs divinités64, le plakous peut participer aux sacrifices préliminaires. J.-M. Dentzer le décrit, comme celui du plateau, avec un nombril en creux, en disant qu’ils « sont souvent marqués par des lignes courbes en forme de côtes de melon65 aboutissant en haut à un cercle incisé lui aussi, ou à une sorte de bouton saillant »66.
32 C. Grandjouan a écrit une étude intéressante à ce sujet et fait des propositions à propos des « voiles » qui l’entourent67. Ce gâteau de miel et de fromage de chèvre est décrit de manière métaphorique par le poète comique Antiphanès au IVe siècle : il paraît recouvert par une protection de mille voiles de la vierge, fille de Déméter. Dans une recette ultérieure deCaton, les voiles sont traduits par des fines couches de pâte dont la dernière s’appelle tracta68, ou abaisse dans la traduction de la Collection des Universités de France. C. Grandjouan69 interprète le gâteau comme des couches de miel et de fromage de chèvre alternées, l’ensemble enveloppé, selon elle, dans une série successive de feuilles de cette pâte fine grecque du type phyllo rappelant des « voiles »70 : εἰς πλατὺ στέγαστρον ἁγνῆς παρθένου Δηοῦς κόρης, λεπτοσυνθέτοις τρυφῶντα μυρίοις καλύμμασιν, ἢ σαφῶς πλακοῦντα φράζω σοι; 33 C. Grandjouan, inspirée par le nom du gâteau appelé placenta chez Caton, pense, comme nous-mêmes, que le terme plakous pour le gâteau peut évoquer des analogies avec l’« organe » et ses membranes.Pour interpréter ces couvertures fines, évoquées par Antiphanès, elle s’appuie sur un passage d’Athénée à propos du gâteau ἄμυλος, décrivant ces couvertures comme des « voiles d’araignées » protégeant du regard indiscret cette substance délicieuse, moelleuse et sucrée qui se trouve « au milieu » et qu’il serait honteux de voir. Elle met alors ainsi les « voiles » en parallèle avec le phyllo grec enveloppant une tyropitta et le placenta avec le gâteau71 :
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… ταῖσιν δὲ μέσσαις ἐγκαθιδρύθη μέγα χάρμα βροτοῖς, λευκὸς μυελὸς γλυκερός, λεπτοῖς ἀράχνας ἐναλιγκίοισι πέπλοις συγκαλύπτων ὄψιν αἰσχύνας ὕπο, μὴ κατίδῃ τις… 34 L’auteur semble ignorer que le terme plakous en grec moderne signifie placenta,un emploi qui n’est pas attesté dans les sources anciennes. A-t-il pu exister avec ce sens dans le langage quotidien, de façon évidente, au même titre que le terme phallos et aidoion72, sans laisser de traces écrites ? En tout état de cause, le terme chorionqui avait ce sens désignait aussi des χορία τοῦ σώματος, des emplacements du corps, par sa signification de membrane séparatrice.
35 L’extérieur du gâteau décrit par Philoxenos est fait d’une croûte épaisse laissant l’intérieur invisible, συγκαλύπτων ὄψιν, compatible avec la recette de Caton :« pour le dessus, mettez une feuille de pâte seule. Après cela, resserrez l’abaisse… », détail important, car les deux feuilles de la pâte n’ont pas la même consistance :l’abaisse est faite à partir de farine de blé siligo, les feuilles intérieures de farine et de semoule, ce qui rend l’ abaisse plus solide afin qu’elle puisse être rabattue sur le dessus. Une observation faite en bloc opératoire nous a permis de comprendre la correspondancedu plakous avec le placenta et ses membranes73.Les membranes ovulaires posées sur le placenta laissent seulement deviner le relief de la vascularisation et le point d’insertion du cordon ombilical (Fig. 11, 12a) : c’est l’image de la face fœtale où il faut soulever l’amnios pour voir la vascularisation à l’intérieur. On peut donc bien qualifier les membranes de « voiles » cachant l’« organe » et comprendre pourquoi la dernière feuille de pâte et l’ abaisse ne doivent pas avoir la même texture que les autres feuilles, si l’objectif du gâteau est d’imiter le placenta. À la fin de la préparation, on resserre l’abaisse pour former un nœud qui, par un jeu d’images, suggère un omphalos. Le termeplakous n’a-t-il pas pu désigner en Grèce ancienne l’organe ainsi que le gâteau ?
36 Il n’existe pas de preuve permettant d’affirmer que le mot plakous fut utilisé dans les deux sens, gâteau et placenta.En revanche, le terme chorion,employé dans les sources zoologiques et médicales pour désigner l’organe avec l’ensemble des membranes qui l’enveloppent74, correspond chez Athénée à des gâteaux de la catégorie des plakountes faits de miel et de lait75 : ΧΟΡΙΑ· βρώματα διὰ μέλιτος καὶ γάλακτος γινόμενα. 37 Avant Caton, certains auteurs, comme Phanias au IVe siècle avant notre ère, ont décrit le gâteau en faisant allusion à d’autres images mentales qui sont à mettre en rapport avec le placenta, à commencer par celle de l’omphalos.La figue sèche (Fig. 9a, b) représente ainsi sur sa face supérieure un omphalos en saillie, le résidu du cordon ombilical et, sur la face inférieure, un omphalos en creux, rappelant le nombril de l’enfant quelques jours après l’accouchement, ce que J.-M. Dentzer décrit comme un cercle incisé (n. 67). Cette polysémie est présente dans la langue grecque où le terme omphalos désigne le nombril, le cordon ombilical et la source de fécondité76. Ce rapport avec la sexualité et la procréation-maternité se retrouve dans d’autres cultures comme la culture hébraïque et certaines cultures africaines77. La valeur de l’omphalos se manifeste aussi au travers des rituels concernant la section et la ligature du cordon qui doit être traité avec précaution et coupé avec un couteau spécifique. Hippocrate utilise un terme spécial pour désigner la personne qui le coupe, ὀμφαλητόμος, ce qui montre l’importance qu’on lui accorde78. Mais tant que le placenta n’est pas sorti, rien n’est fait : « la mère a toujours un pied dans la tombe »79.
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3.4. Le plakous, la fille, les cultes thasiens, la figue sèche
38 Le gâteau thasien ressemble, par ses sillons, au gâteau plakous. Il rappelle aussi, de façon moins réaliste, la forte vascularisation en éventail irrégulier qui caractérise la face fœtale du placenta avec un double tour du cordon ombilical posé dessus.Le fait de voir dans le placenta un pain cuit au four n’a rien d’extraordinaire car, depuis la plus haute antiquité, le ventre et l’utérus sont perçus tel un four80. Les Hippocratiques comparent le processus de la conception et de la croissance de l’embryon à celui de la cuisson d’un pain dans un four : la semence se mélange, se condense et s’épaissit en s’échauffant, puis elle gonfle à l’aide du souffle de la femme et s’entoure d’une membrane visqueuse comme le pain. Chauffé et gonflé, ce « pain » se soulève et forme une pellicule à l’endroit où il se gonfle81.
39 L’information réunie à partir de cette figurine (Fig. 7, 8) nous permet ainsi d’identifier le popanon monomphalon épais à sillons sur les côtés, ou à côtes de melon, au gâteau plakous dont la forme est celle du placenta. Ses ingrédients sont la farine, le fromage blanc de chèvre et le miel, ses dimensions sont celles d’un placenta réel.
40 Le plateau pourrait ainsi offrir l’image de la fille à différents moments de la vie. Elle est encore un petit enfant pour ses proches, le germe que la mère a laissé cuire comme un pain-gâteau à l’intérieur de son ventre.La métaphore de l’enfant-gâteau se retrouve dans la description du plakous identifié au bel enfant de Déméter : « dès que j’ai vu entrer le blond, sucré, grand, rond, robuste enfant de Déméter »82, polysémie renvoyant au culte de Déméter qui favorise la Kalligéneia, la naissance de beaux rejetons.
41 La fille du plateau comporte en soi, également, l’idée de la figue. Elle est la graine des parents qui devient fruit et subit le même processus de la première cuisson pour venir au monde. Arrivée à la maturité sexuelle, elle servira métaphoriquement à être broyée, croquée, être pressée comme un fruit83.La rondeur de ses seins rappellera l’accent mis sur les poupées nues et sur l’Ὀπώρα d’Aristophane (Paix).Comme une figue mûre, la fille représentera la fertilité et la reproduction. Belle comme un fruit à déguster, elle est prête à donner, à son tour, de nouveaux fruits à travers la semence qu’elle contient. Son image nue sur le liknon agit comme un emboîtement en abyme des images qui l’entourent. Elle est aussi la graine des parents, comme celles des céréales cultivées qu’elle aurait broyées comme aletris. Cette graine qui doit cuire une première fois pour devenir enfant ou gâteau, doit « recuire » pour arriver à devenir fille nubile. Aussi devient-elle un enfant biscuit, dans le sens littéral du terme, une fille belle à croquer, elle-même contenant des graines et capable de procréer, mettre au monde de nouveaux citoyens. C’est à cet âge qu’elle peut devenir canéphore dans le cadre d’un culte civique, si le service existait à Thasos, comme à Délos où il est attesté. À cette occasion, elle aurait pu porter à son cou un collier de figues sèches garantissant sa pureté et son pouvoir de procréation.
4. Le placenta comme plakous ou comme lochia dans le culte d’Artémis à Thasos ?
42 Le souci de la mise au monde de nouveaux citoyens étant le but de la vie de la femme et au centre de l’intérêt des cités grecques, tout signe pouvant se mettre en rapport avec un accouchement réussi ou une demande d’enfant mérite d’être recherché dans les
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pratiques votives des cités.Dans ce sens, le placenta, comme preuve ou comme garantie d’un accouchement mené à terme, ce que la pratique quotidienne mais aussi les textes médicaux attestent, aurait plusieurs chances d’avoir été représenté, si la figuration des organes internes du corps était pratiquée en Grèce. Dans ce monde où les choses sont souvent dites de manière indirecte et par un code de signes construisant des images,l’analyse montre que, sur les deux figurines que nous avons traitées, il existe des indications sensibles permettant de saisir pourquoi l’évocation du placenta à travers ces images était possible.Une série d’arguments valables viennent appuyer notre hypothèse; ils sont fondés sur des métaphores visuelles fonctionnant dans l’imaginaire grec et sur les rites et les cultes de grandes divinités concernées par la régénération de la nature et de l’être humain dans le cadre de la cité, questions que nous avons essayé d’aborder de manière subtile et précise.
43 En ce qui concerne la figue, le lieu de culte et la divinité concernée, les choses sont données. La polysémie du fruit lui permet, d’une part, toute association aux organes sexuels de la femme, à la conception, à l’allaitement et au développement de l’enfant comme un fruit. Ses vertus apotropaïques et fécondantes, d’autre part, permettent de comprendre pourquoi, puisque sa morphologie externe se prête à une figuration schématique du placenta, l’artisan corinthien a pu en faire un objet beau à regarder, un agalma, destiné à être déposé comme ex-voto au Thesmophorion dans le cadre de la fête de la Kalligéneia, en espérant une belle progéniture. C’est ainsi que le cordon ombilical a trouvé une place « légitime » sur la figue.
44 Or, le désespoir concernant le potentiel de procréation d’une aôros koré semble aussi avoir été l’occasion d’un autre mode métaphorique de représentation du placenta. C’est ce que nous proposons pour le gâteau à côté de la figurine de la fille : son rôle est de résumer les étapes qu’aurait dû connaître la petite défunte au cours de sa vie si elle n’était pas morte prématurément, c’est ce qu’aôros signifie et ce qui se réfère au fruit qui n’a pas atteint sa maturité84. Les deux principaux arguments en faveur de cette hypothèse sont les suivants. Avant tout, il y a la forme du gâteau, rond, plat et épais, comportant des sillons qui convergent vers son sommet aboutissant à une sorte d’omphalos ou de cordon ombilical, un aspect qui correspond à la face fœtale vascularisée du placenta, couverte par les membranes correspondant aux feuilles de pâte, tout comme un pain ou un gâteau fourré, selon les descriptions des sources écrites. Ensuite, il y a l’analogie de sa taille par rapport à un petit être humain qui est la même que celle du placenta par rapport à l’enfant. Malgré son absence dans les sources écrites, tous les arguments montrent que le terme plakous a pu désigner à la fois cette forme précise de gâteau ainsi que le placenta, par analogie formelle. Le terme chorion, utilisé pour le désigner ensemble avec les membranes dans les textes médicaux désigne également des membranes séparatrices d’autres organes, ainsi que des gâteaux. Le contexte dans lequel la représentation supposée du placenta se trouve, en évoquant la notion de la reproduction, le but non atteint par la fille, la notion de la cuisson à travers les céréales, l’éducation et le développement même du fœtus à l’intérieur de l’utérus, donne un sens d’unité à l’ensemble qui est en faveur de notre hypothèse.
45 Cette deuxième forme métaphorique de représentation du placenta définit à la fois la forme du gâteau à offrir, sa taille, sa consistance et le type du culte auquel il pourrait s’être adressé : posé sur le même plateau que les ἥμεροι καρποί, symbolisant dans ce cas les rites de passage, le gâteau plakous représente probablement la vie civilisée du mariage auquel la petite défunte de la tombe 59 était normalement destinée en se
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préparant sous la protection d’Artémis. Elle aurait mûri comme un fruit et le placenta à ses côtés aurait garanti la prospérité et la procréation. Le groupe miniature dont il fait partie semble signifier : « rappelez-vous, il n’y a pas d’enfant sans qu’il y ait de placenta et il n’y a pas de culture sans qu’il y ait cuisson de la nourriture. » Par sa forme donc associée à l’accouchement et par sa composition associée à la chèvre85 et au miel, le plakous a toute raison de concerner les filles qui se placent sous l’aile d’Artémis pour leur accouchement. Cette Artémis porterait l’épiclèse Lochia, l’Accoucheuse, Eileithyia et Kourotrophe. Une inscription du Ier s. av. n.è. concernant la dédicace par Épié, fille de Dionysios, de la construction du propylée de l’Artémision, atteste effectivement l’existence du culte d’Artémis Eilethyié au sanctuaire de Thasos86. La présence d’une ou de deux figurines en terre cuite de femmes enceintes nues dans le matériel non publié du sanctuaire, étant donné la rareté de ce type iconographique comme matériel votif, vient encore confirmer l’hypothèse de l’existence de ce culte87.
46 Par ailleurs, plusieurs objets de forme conique irrégulière ont été recueillis dans l’Artémision thasien.Tous présentent une surface striée de fins bourrelets verticaux groupés par trois et se rejoignant au sommet qui semble se terminer par une protubérance.Ouverts en dessous, ces objets étaient destinés à être simplement posés sur une surface ou un support quelconque88 (Fig. 16).Sans pouvoir encore aller plus loin dans notre interprétation, il a été encourageant de trouver des objets de cette forme dans l’Artémision.Ils pourraient représenter des gâteaux au miel, comme les lochia, qui étaient offerts à Artémis et dont la forme reste inconnue encore aujourd’hui. Yvette Morizot propose d’identifier les lochia aux gâteaux en forme de pyramide sur le plateau du relief d’Achinos et d’y voir une offrande en remerciement pour un accouchement réussi89. Ce type d’objet-fruit de forme pyramidale présent à l’Artémision pourrait à la fois représenter un fruit de figuier, même si son aspect n’est pas réaliste puisque le fond est plat, avoir la forme pyramidale-conique d’un gâteau, et enfin rappeler la forme du placenta que l’on soulève par les membranes mais dont le fond reste à plat sur une surface (Fig. 17).Le seul parallèle de cet objet découvert à ce jour a été interprété comme le calice d’une fleur90, ce qui peut se concevoir si l’on pense à la fleur comme contenant de la graine qui donnera le fruit.
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Fig. 16 : Objets en terre cuite inédits, Artémision de Thasos [cliché provisoire I.-D. Papaikonomou].
Fig. 17 : Placenta soutenu par le cordon ombilical et les membranes [cliché I.-D. Papaikonomou].
47 Ce gâteau serait une troisième manière de représenter le placenta avec sa protubérance rappelant le cordon ombilical. Il pourrait s’être appelé lochia et avoir été offert par une
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mère à l’Artémis de Thasos en remerciement pour un accouchement réussi. Nous avons, ici, comme au Thesmophorion, l’avantage de connaître le lieu de dépôt.
48 Enfin, souvent associée à Hécate comme à Thasos et à Délos, Artémis est responsable de la reproduction des êtres, de la maternité, de l’accouchement mais aussi de la mort en couches.L’Artémis qui délivre les femmes de ce danger est Artémis Phosphoros ou Artémis-Phosphoros-Hécate. La déesse, à l’aide de ses torches, fournit la lumière pour que l’enfant sorte de l’obscurité de la matrice ou, dans le cas contraire, pour le conduire dans l’au-delà. Et que signifie délivrer, sinon permettre au placenta de sortir intact et d’éviter ainsi que la femme ne meure en couches ? On comprend alors que différentes images du placenta aient pu être offertes à la déesse et, en particulier, sous la forme du gâteau plakous.
NOTES
*. Nous voudrions exprimer toute notre gratitude à Véronique Dasen et à Vinciane Pirenne- Delforge pour leur soutien et leur aide précieuse. Tous nos remerciements vont à l’École française d’Athènes et à la XVIIIe Éphorie d’Antiquités Préhistoriques et Classiques de Kavala, à L. Bonato, G. Ekroth, F. Lissarrague, D. Malamidou, Y. Morizot, A. Muller, G. Panotopoulos, S. Papadopoulos, Ch. Papaoikonomou, Fr. Poplin, Th. Petridis, C. Spieser, H. Stamatiadis, A. Tamborini, Ch. Zubler. Sans leur aide et leurs encouragements, cet article n’aurait pu être mené à bien. 1. A.N. STILLWELL, Corinth XV, 2. The Potters’ Quarter: The Terracottas, Princeton, 1952, n° 16, p. 237-238, pl. 52. 2. Par analogie au problème posé par D. Arasse concernant la description et la lecture d’un tableau : D. ARASSE, On n’y voit rien, Paris, 2000. 3. L.A. SCATOZZA-HÖRICHT, Le Terrecotte figurate di Cuma del Museo archeologico nazionale di Napoli, Rome, 1987, RIIa1, p. 109-110, pl. 24. 4. A. LAUMONIER, Les figurines de terre cuite, Paris, 1956 (EAD, 23), n° 1389, p. 288, pl. 100. 5. Aristophane, Paix, 628; Athénée, III 78 c; J. HENDERSON, The Maculate Muse. Obscene Language and the Development of Attic Comedy, New Haven/London, 1991, p. 23, et l’allusion faite au sexe de la femme (voir infra, § 2.2.). 6. Nous voudrions exprimer toute notre gratitude envers les fouilleurs S. Papadopoulos et M. Sgourou, disparue si tôt, pour le matériel dont ils nous ont confié l’étude. 7. Sur la dissection, cf. J.-M. ANNONI, V. BARRAS, « La découpe du corps humain et ses justifications dans l’antiquité », CBMH/BCHM 10 (1993), p. 185-227; V. NUTTON, Ancient Medicine, New York, 2004, p. 129; H. KING, V. DASEN, La médecine grecque dans l’Antiquité grecque et romaine, Lausanne, 2007; Sur la notion de μίασμα, cf. R. PARKER, Miasma. Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion, Oxford, 1983. 8. « Assistant » dans le sens d’être présent et d’aider, du verbe πάρειμι, pour désigner l’assistant du médecin, cf. H. KING, Hippocrate’s Woman. Reading the Female Body in Ancient Greece, Londres/New York, 1998, p. 164-167; A.E. HANSON, « A division of labor: roles for men in Greek and Roman births », Thamyris 1 (1994), p. 157-202, spéc. p. 170. Sur la ἰατρεύουσα, voir Hippocrate, Des maladies des femmes I, 68 (éd. LITTRÉ VIII, p. 144).
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9. W.H.D. ROUSE, Greek Votive Offerings: an Essay in the History of Greek Religion, Cambridge, 1902; F. VAN STRATEN, « Gifts for the Gods », in H.S. VERSNEL (éd.), Faith, Hope and Worship, Leiden, 1981, p. 65-151; M. GREMK, D. GOUREVITCH, Les maladies dans l’art antique, Paris, 1998; V. DASEN, « Femmes à tiroir », in ead. (éd.), Naissance et petite enfance dans l’Antiquité, Fribourg, 2004 p. 127-144; V. DASEN, S. DUCATÉ-PAARMANN, « Hysteria and Metaphors of the Uterus », in S. SCHROER (éd.), Images and Gender. Contributions to the Hermeneutics of Reading Ancient Art, Fribourg/Göttingen, 2006, p. 239-261; S. DUCATÉ-PAARMANN, « Voyage à l’intérieur du corps féminin. Embryons, utérus et autres organes internes dans l’art des offrandes anatomiques antiques », in V. DASEN (éd.) L’embryon humain à travers l’histoire. Images, savoirs et rites. Actes du colloque de Fribourg, 27-29 octobre 2004, Gollion, 2007, p. 65-82; I.-D. PAPAIKONOMOU, « From the Terracotta Anatomical Votive Offerings of the Asclepieion of Lerna, to the Wax Models of the Museum of A. Syngros Hospital », in A. KATSAMBASet al. (éds), Museum of Moulages of “Andreas Syngros” Hospital, Athènes, 2006, p. 21-31. 10. L’image, de manière générale, n’est pas une illustration de la réalité; les images plastiques des parties du corps figurées dans les sanctuaires grecs montrent le corps enveloppé de la peau. Concernant le réalisme de ces images, voir GRMEK – GOUREVITCH, o.c. (n. 9); PAPAIKONOMOU, l.c. (n. 9), p. 25-26. 11. À distinguer des parties génitales externes présentes dans l’épigraphie et dans les offrandes votives des sanctuaires grecs (PAPAIKONOMOU, ibid., p. 21-31, en part. p. 34). À distinguer aussi des représentations de l’utérus connues par les sanctuaires étrusques. 12. Sur l’importance du placenta : Hippocrate, Des maladies des femmes I, 46 (éd. LITTRÉ VIII, 107); Aristote, Histoire des animaux, 567a; J. GÉLIS, L’arbre et le fruit. La naissance dans l’Occident moderne XVIe-XIXe s., Paris, 1984, p. 287-288. 13. Concernant notre méthode de « lecture » de l’image que l’objet représente, inspirée par les recherches de F. Lissarrague et les travaux du Centre Louis Gernet, voir I.-D. PAPAIKONOMOU, « L’interprétation des “jouets” trouvés dans les tombes d’enfants d’Abdère », in A.-M. GUIMIER- SORBETS, M. HATZOPOULOS, Y. MORIZOT (éds), Rois, cités, nécropoles. Institutions, rites et monuments en Macédoine, Athènes, 2006 (Mélétemata, 45), p. 239-249; ARASSE, o.c. (n. 2); H. BELTING , Pour une anthropologie de l’image, Paris, 2004; pour une anthropologie de l’image sur les vases grecs, voir F. LISSARRAGUE, Un flot d’images. Une esthétique du banquet grec, Paris, 1987. 14. GÉLIS, o.c. (n. 12), p. 73; sur les testicules, voir n. 41. 15. Tombe du roi Thoutmosis III, vallée des rois, Thèbes, KV 34. 16. L’inverse aussi est valable dans ce monde, où pour expliquer ce que l’on ne peut pas voir, on recourt à des analogies entre le corps humain et le monde naturel. Ainsi les Hippocratiques, pour parler du développement de la mère et du fœtus, décrivent-ils celui de la plante avec son humeur donnant le fruit, en parlant de son « sang » et de ses « veines » : Hpc., Nature de l’enfant XXII – XXVII : XXII, 4, 21. 17. Le sang menstruel constitue la matière première du fœtus et sa nourriture par la suite : Aristt., G.A. I, 20, 729a 20-23 : « la femelle n’apporte pas à la génération sa part de liquide séminal, mais […] la substance qui constitue les règles… »; G.A. II, 4, 739a 26-28 : « la conception est impossible sans l’émission du mâle […] et sans l’excrétion des règles… » et G.A. I, 20, 729a 9-11: « …la femelle (fournit) le corps et la matière » (traduction C.U.F. et J.-B. BONNARD, infra). Une fois l’enfant né, le sang devient lait maternel : Aristt., G.A. II, 4 739b 25-26 (voir n. suivante), mais aussi la tradition hippocratique et en part. Hpc., Des épidémies II, 3, 17 [éd. LITTRÉ V, p. 118]); J.-B. BONNARD, Le complexe de Zeus. Représentation de la parenté en Grèce ancienne, Paris, 2004, p. 182-194; KING – DASEN, o.c. (n. 7), p. 20, 62. 18. En effet, le développement du fœtus est décrit comme un long processus au cours duquel il est d’abord comparé au lait qui caille sous l’effet de la présure, puis à un morceau de pâte qui lève à un endroit chaud. Aristt., G.A. I, 20, 729a 11-14; Hpc., Nature de l’enfant, 12, 6 (éd. LITTRÉ VII,
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p. 54). Sur l’effet des membranes qui emprisonnent la chaleur à l’intérieur en permettant à « la pâte de se lever » : Hpc., Des chairs V, 1-3 (éd. LITTRÉ VIII, plusieurs passages); L. BODIOU, « De l’utilité du ventre des femmes. Lectures médicales du corps féminin », in Fr. PROST, J. WILGAUX (éds), Penser et représenter le corps dans l’Antiquité, Rennes, 2006, p. 153-166. 19. Cependant, comme le remarque J.-B. Bonnard, Aristote ne semble pas penser la sève du figuier, οjπός, comme de la vraie présure, mais plutôt comme du lait, ce qui permettrait de croire encore une fois que la sève du figuier est perçue dans ce sens. Aristt., G.A II, 4, 739b 20-26 C.U.F. et trad. J.-B. Bonnard : « En effet, la présure est du lait qui possède une chaleur vitale et qui réunit les parties identiques et les coagule : le sperme est dans le même cas par rapport à la substance des règles. Car la nature du lait est la même que celle des règles ». 20. Homère, Odyssée VII, 121; Hérodote, II, 40; Ar., Paix, 575, 598. 21. P. BRULÉ, Les femmes grecques à l’époque classique, Paris, 2001, p. 129. 22. Athénée, XIII, 592d (trad. P. Brulé, ibid., p. 129) : ἰδεῖν με συκάζουσαν… 23. P. Brulé paraphrase les vers 1346-1349 de la Paix où Trygée dit : oἰκήσετε γοῦν καλῶς οὐ πράγματ᾽ ἔχοντες, ἀλλὰ συκολογοῦντες, σῦκον dans le sens du sexe de la femme (Ar., Paix, 1351). 24. Ar., Lysistrata, 564; Paix, 1218, 1223; Ploutos, 798. 25. Hipponax, fr. 124 (74 D3, éd. G. MASSON, Les fragments du poète Hipponax, Paris 1962) (= Sextus Empiricus, Adu. Mathem. I, 275); HENDERSON, o.c. (n. 5), p. 118, n° 34; p. 134, n° 122. 26. H. BAUMANN, Le bouquet d’Athéna, Paris, 1984, p. 151-152. 27. Ath., III, 78f : γνοίη χ᾽ ὅσῳ τὰ σῦκα τοῦ χρυσοῦ κρέσσω. 28. Ath., III, 74d : ἡ συκῆ, ἄνδρες φίλοι, ἡγεμὼν τοῦ καθαρείου βίου τοῖς ἀνθρώποις ἐγένετο. 29. C. CALAME, Thésée et l’imaginaire athénien: légende et culte en Grèce antique, Lausanne, 1996 [1990], p. 296-310; L. BRUIT, Sacrifices non-sanglants et offrandes végétales en Grèce ancienne. Rites et idéologies. Thèse, EPHE Sorbonne, Paris, 1983, p. 195-197; R. PARKER, Polytheism and Society at Athens, Oxford, 2005, p. 204-206, spéc. p. 205. 30. Ath., III, 74d : τὸν δ᾽ ἀπ᾽ αὐτῆς καρπὸν ἡγητηρίαν διὰ τὸ πρῶτον εὑρεθῆναι τῆς ἡμέρου τροφῆς. 31. Hpc., Nature de l’enfant XXII, 2, 24-26 : τὸ δὴ θερμαινόμενον ὑπὸ τοῦ ἡλίου ἐκζέει ἐς τὰ ἄκρα, καὶ γίνεται καρπὸς κατὰ τὸ ξυγγενὲς ἐξ ὁκοίου καὶ ἐγένετο. Au sujet des plantes, voir les développements de M. DETIENNE, Les Jardins d’Adonis, Paris, 1972, p. 185-226. 32. GÉLIS, o.c. (n. 12), p. 73; F. POPLIN, « La chasse au sanglier et la vertu virile », in Homme et animal dans l’Antiquité Romaine. Colloque de Nantes 30.05-01.06.1991, Tours, 1995, p. 445-467. 33. F. LISSARRAGUE, « Regards sur le mariage grec », in O. CAVALIER (éd.), Silence et fureur, Catalogue de l’exposition au Musée Calvet, Avignon, 1996, p. 415-434, spéc. p. 426, Fr. de loutrophore à f.r. n. 41, Boston 10.223, Beazley ARV2 1017/44, Peintre de la Phiale. 34. Ar., Paix, 1321-1326 (trad. H. Van Daele, CUF, 1980). 35. Ar., Paix, 1351 : « elle l’a douce la figue » (dans le vers antérieur la figue est utilisée pour le sexe masculin aussi). Pour la figue signifiant le sexe de la femme, voir HENDERSON, o.c. (n. 5), p. 117-118, n° 31, 32, 33, 34; p. 134, n° 122; p. 135, n° 127. Voir aussi ἐρινός, figue sauvage. Hippocrate utilise le terme pour l’orifice de l’utérus qui devient résistant comme elle, ne laissant pas le sperme entrer… Hpc., De la nature de la femme, 39, 10 (éd. LITTRÉ VII, p. 383) : γίνεται ἰσχυρὸν ὥσπερ ἐρινεόν, et κορώνα, figue noire, n. 6. 36. Cf. circulation fœtale : CHEVREL, ibid., fig. 44. 37. Nous pensons retrouver une image de la face maternelle avec ses cotylédons dans la figue mûre provenant de Corinthe : Fig. 4c et n. 2, STILLWELL, o.c. (n. 1), n° 16, p. 237-238, pl. 53. Voir notre description du § 1.1., p. 136. Il faut rappeler que la figue au cordon placentaire, qui constitue l’un des deux objets que nous présentons, semble également provenir de Corinthe : voir § 1.1., p. 134.
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38. KING, o.c. (n. 8), p. 94. 39. χόριον ή χορίον : τούστερον, ο πλακούς (grec moderne); Soranos, I, 17, 57, p. 42; c’est l’ensemble du placenta qui « s’appelle chorion parce qu’il se sépare de l’embryon et de tout ce qui va avec… » (P. APOSTOLIDIS, Ερμηνευτικό λεξικό πασών των λέξεων του Ιπποκράτους, Γαβριηλίδης, Athènes, 1997). 40. Ὁ ὄσχεος : bourse des testicules, Arsitt., H.A. I, 13, 4. Les testicules sont des glandes de forme diffuse recouvertes par une séreuse. Leur partie exocrine est située dans les bourses: CHEVREL, o.c. (n. 36), p. 129. 41. I.-D. PAPAIKONOMOU, « Enfance et identité sexuée dans les cités grecques », in F. GUSIet al. (éds), Nasciturus, Infans, Puerulus, Vobis Mater Terra. La muerte in la infancia, Castellon, 2008, p. 683-710. 42. J.-M. DENTZER, Le motif du banquet couché dans le Proche Orient et le monde grec du VIIe au IVe s. av.n.è., Rome, 1982, reliefs attiques de 420 à 300, p. 335. 43. Ath., XIV, 640a-643e; C. GRANDJOUAN, « Hellenistic Relief Molds from the Athenian Agora, Appendix : the Food of the Heroes », Hesperia Suppl. 23 (1989), p. 57-67, 57 et n. 1. 44. Ath.,XIV, 642e; 648. 45. GRANDJOUAN, l.c. (n. 44). 46. Ath., XIV, 646f. 47. Hdt., III, 48, 3. Ce type de gâteau se retrouve à Thasos : A. MULLER, Les terres cuites votives du Thesmophorion. De l’atelier au sanctuaire, Athènes/Paris, 1996 (Études thasiennes, 17), n° 1202, pl. 140. 48. BAUMANN, o.c. (n. 26), p. 143. 49. A. BRUMFIELD, « Cakes in the Liknon: Votives from the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore on Akrokorinth », Hesperia 66 (1997) p. 147-172; STILLWELL, o.c. (n. 1), p. 231: 77 pains, et 234 (Class I), 7 fruits, 14 plateaux; p. 237 : 9, 10, 11, 12, 16. 50. U. SINN, « Zur Wirkung des ägyptischen Bes auf die griechische Volksreligion », in “Antidoron”: Festschrift J. Thimme, Karlsruhe, 1983, p. 87-94 , fig 6 a. 51. Ibid., fig 6 b. 52. G. DAVIDSON, D. THOMPSON,Small Objects of the Pnyx, Baltimore, 1943, p. 156, fig. 68, n° 106, 107. 53. Ar., Lys., 643-647. 54. E. BUSCHOR, Grab eines attischen Mädchens, München, 1939. 55. E. KEARNS, « Cakes in Greek Sacrifice Regulations », in R. HÄGG (éd.), Ancient Greek Cult Practice from the Epigraphical Evidence, Proceedings of the Second International Seminar on Ancient Greek Cult, Athens, 1994, p. 65 et n. 3. 56. Ibid., p. 65. 57. Ibid., p. 69. 58. Ibid., p. 70. 59. Ath., XIV, 644b : εἴρηται δὲ κατ᾽ ἔλλειψιν τοῦ ἄρτος. 60. Ath., II, 58d-e. 61. BRUMFIELD, l.c. (n. 50), p. 151. 62. Ath., XIV, 643e-644d. 63. Photios, s.v. πόπανα· πλακούντια πλατέα λεπτὰ καὶ περιφερῆ; BRUMFIELD, l.c. (n. 50), p. 150, n. 12. 64. F. SOKOLOWSKI, Lois sacrées des cités grecques, Paris, 1969, n° 23; F. VAN STRATEN, Hierà Kalá. Images of Animal Sacrifice in Archaic and Classical Greece, Leiden, 1995, p. 163. 65. Ce qui correspond à la description de Phanias au IVe siècle, Ath., II, 58d-e. 66. DENTZER, o.c.(n. 43) : reliefs attiques de 420 à 300, p. 335, exemples aux notes 315, 316. 67. GRANDJOUAN, l.c. (n. 44), p. 57-67. 68. Caton, De l’agriculture, 85 (76) (IIe s. av. n.è.). Il s’agit d’une recette pour obtenir une placenta d’un demi-modius, ce qui équivaut à la moitié de 8 et 2/3 de litre sur un plateau d’un pied de large (DE CHANTAL, CUF, 2007, p. 18-29) : abaisse au blé siligo, pâte amincie au rouleau; feuilles de
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pâte faites de farine et de semoule; « Faites-en l’abaisse, mince, […] posez l’abaisse sur un plateau propre […] façonnez la placenta: mettez d’abord une feuille de pâte seule pour toute la surface de l’abaisse, ensuite […] ajoutez les feuilles une à une; […] pour le dessus, mettez une feuille de pâte seule. Après cela, resserrez l’abaisse, garnissez d’abord bien le foyer et réglez le feu. » 69. GRANDJOUAN, l.c. (n. 44), p. 59. 70. Ath., X, 449b-c, citant Antiphanès. Pour la traduction, voir C. GULICK, 1961 (1930) Loeb. 71. Ath., XIV, 643a-b, citant Philoxenos. 72. Utilisé pour les deux sexes. 73. Nous tenons à remercier vivement les docteurs et amis Georges Panotopoulos et Alain Tamborini, pour leur aide et leurs conseils, le Professeur de gynécologie de l’Université d’Athènes, Euthymios Deligéoroglou et son équipe de la Clinique gynécologique universitaire de l’Hôpital Arétaion d’Athènes qui nous ont autorisé l’accès en bloc opératoire afin d’étudier un placenta réel. 74. Aristt., H.A. VI, 3, 14; Dioscoride, III, 167 et n. 41. 75. Ath., XIV, 646-647d. 76. V. DASEN, « Le secret d’Omphale », REA 46 (2008), p. 265-281. 77. Cantique des Cantiques trad. des Septante, le nombril est comparé à un cratère que l’on souhaite rempli : ὀμφαλός σου κρατὴρ τορευτὸς μὴ ὑστερούμενος κρᾶμα. Voir ᾌσμα ᾈσμάτων, ὁ ἐστὶ τῷ Σαλωμών Κεφ. Ζ 3, Athènes, 2001; Catalogue du Musée Dapper, Chr. FALGAYRETTES-LEVEAU (éd.), « Signes du corps », Paris, 2004, figure de caryatide, République démocratique du Congo, Musée royal de l’Afrique centrale, Tervuren Inv. N. 132. 78. Hpc., Des maladies des femmes I, 46, 4-7 (éd. LITTRÉ VIII, p. 106); Hipponax, fr. 19 c 12 D 3 : τίς ὀμφαλητόμος σε τὸν διοπλῆγα ἔψησε κἀπέλουσεν ἀσκαρίζοντα; Hérodien (Et. Gen. A, Reitzgenstein ind. 1890-91 p. 7. cf. Et. Mag. 154.27 cod. V). 79. Expression proverbiale grecque. 80. C. LÉVI-STRAUSS, Mythologiques I. Le cru et le cuit, Paris, 1964, p. 341; GÉLIS, o.c. (n. 12), p. 131, 241. 81. Ηpc., Nature de l’enfant, 12, 1, 6 (éd. LITTRÉ VII, p. 486 et 489). L’idée se retrouve depuis la plus haute antiquité en Égypte, voir C. SPIESER, « Vases et peaux animales matriciels dans la pensée religieuse égyptienne », Biblioteca Orientalis 58 (2006), p. 227. 82. Αth., IV, 137b-c : Δήμητρος παῖδ᾿ὀπτὸν ἐπεισελθόντα πλακοῦντα. 83. BRULÉ,o.c. (n. 21), p. 128. 84. DETIENNE, o.c. (n. 31), p. 193, 218 : « tout en connotant l’immaturité des plantations, (il) suggère l’état de celui qui n’est pas en âge de se marier (…) “trop vert” quand il n’a pas atteint la saison du mariage » (Plut., Lycurgue, 15, 4). 85. Sur les liens d’Artémis avec la chèvre et le miel, voir la thèse d’I.-D. Papaikonomou à venir. 86. Y. GRANDJEAN, F. SALVIAT, Guide de Thasos, Athènes, 2000, p. 90; F. SALVIAT, « Décrets pour Épié », BCH 83 (1959), p. 362-397. 87. Nous espérons, dans un avenir proche, mettre en valeur ce matériel de Thasos, rare et précieux. Sur ce type d’ex-voto, voir la publication partielle du Ph.D. de Susan WHITE, Childbirth Votives and Rituals in Ancient Greece, University of Cincinnati, 2007. 88. Nous remercions A. Muller de nous avoir permis de nous référer à ces objets non publiés. 89. Y. MORIZOT, « Offrandes à Artémis pour une naissance. Autour du relief d’Achinos », in DASEN (éd.), o.c. (n. 9), p. 166, n. 21. 90. S. BESQUES, Musée National du Louvre, Catalogue raisonné des figurines et des reliefs en terre cuite grecs, étrusques et romains, IV-1 : époques hellénistique et romaine, Italie méridionale-Sicile-Sardaigne , Paris, 1986, D 2576, pl. 384 (provenant de Tarse).
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RÉSUMÉS
Deux figurines en terre cuite découvertes à Thasos, l’une votive, l’autre funéraire, nous conduisent, par leur ambiguïté,à se demander si les artisans ont donné une forme plastique au placenta humain alors même que les organes internes du corps ne sont presque jamais représentés. L’observation anatomique de l’« organe » comparée aux sources littéraires, médicales, épigraphiques et archéologiques offre des arguments valables pour appuyer l’hypothèse qu’il n’en a existé que des figurations indirectes, opérées à travers des métaphores imagées, selon le mode connu en anthropologie de l’image grecque. Les figurines en mettant le placenta humain sur la même échelle que les fruits, les céréales, les gâteaux et l’enfant, tous pensés comme relevant d’un processus de cuisson correspondant à la vie civilisée, nous permettent de saisir des éléments essentiels autour desquels la cité se structure et font de cet organe un symbole de la fécondité. Aussi, le placenta devient-il fruit offert à Déméter, gâteau associé à la naissance pour Artémis ou signe des rites de passage de la jeune fille destinée à procréer des enfants légitimes.
Two terracotta figurines found in Thasos, one from a votive, the other from a funerary context, invite us, by their ambiguity, to question whether craftsmen did represent the human placenta in a time when internal organs are almost never depicted. The anatomical observation of this bodily part, compared with literary, medical and epigraphic sources, supports the idea that indirect, metaphorical representations did exist and conform to the anthropological logic of Greek imagery. The figurines place the placenta at the same level as fruits, cereals, cakes and the child, all seen as the result of a cooking process corresponding to civilized culture. Thus, the placenta becomes a fruit offered to Demeter, and a cake associated with childbirth, when offered to Artemis; it is also the sign of the rites of passage for girls who will give birth to legitimate offspring.
AUTEURS
IRINI-DESPINA PAPAIKONOMOU UMR 7041 ARSCAN (CNRS, Paris I, Paris X, Ministère de la Culture) [email protected]
STÉPHANIE HUYSECOM-HAXHI
CNRS, UMR 8164 – HALMA-IPEL (CNRS, Lille 3, MCC) [email protected]
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La preghiera del poeta nell’Alcibiade Secondo: un modello filosofico e cultuale*
Giorgio Scrofani
1. L’Alcibiade Secondo e il discorso sulla preghiera
1 Nelle Fenicie di Euripide, poco prima dello scontro finale Eteocle e Polinice pregano per ottenere la vittoria e uccidere l’altro1. Gli dei esaudiscono alla lettera i due fratelli: durante la battaglia Polinice uccide Eteocle ed Eteocle uccide Polinice. Nessun errore né ingiustizia da parte di Atena ed Era, le due dee invocate: entrambe le richieste trovano esaudimento conformemente alla loro formulazione. Piuttosto è l’odio ad accecare a tal punto i due fratelli da spingerli ad una preghiera insensata ed inumana. Esopo racconta di un cammello che invidioso del toro si presentò a Zeus pregandolo di concedere anche a lui un paio di corna. Zeus, sdegnato perché il cammello non si accontentava di ciò che già possedeva, non solo non acconsentì alla sua richiesta ma per punizione gli mozzò la punta delle orecchie2. Questi due esempi illustrano, in contesti e con finalità differenti, uno dei rischi connessi all’atto rituale della preghiera: che l’orante formuli una richiesta insensata, volontariamente o meno, e che il dio o gli dei invocati decidano di esaudirla3. Nella sua limitatezza, sotto turbamento o semplicemente per stupidità l’uomo può chiedere delle cose che a prima vista sembrano buone, vantaggiose, ma che a ragion veduta non lo sono. In questo caso la preghiera si trasforma in maledizione per l’orante stesso.
2 La προμήθεια, la prudenza nelle proprie preghiere, ma anche il rispetto dovuto agli dei, in opposizione alla ἀφροσύνη, è l’argomento dell’Alcibiade II, una delle poche opere dell’antichità espressamente dedicate alla preghiera (il sottotitolo con cui è stato tramandato è non a caso περὶ εὐχῆς) ad essere sopravissute 4. Il dialogo, la cui attribuzione a Platone è ancora oggetto di discussione, ha inizio ex abrupto con l’incontro casuale fra Socrate e Alcibiade: il fatto che quest’ultimo si stia recando proprio in quel momento a pregare il dio (πρὸς τον θεὸν προσευξόμενος), costituisce la
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cornice ideale entro cui ha luogo l’azione e lo spunto che dà avvio alla discussione5. Cosa deve chiedere Alcibiade?
3 Dal momento che gli dei sono liberi di esaudire o meno le preghiere che gli uomini rivolgono loro, bisogna evitare richieste sconsiderate6: molti uomini, compreso Alcibiade, sarebbero lieti di ricevere dagli dei qualunque cosa venisse loro offerta senza prevederne i rischi7. Poiché sono in molti a trovarsi in questa condizione, sarebbe utile, afferma Socrate, seguire l’esempio di quel poeta (ἐκεῖνος ὁ ποιητής), che ha composto una preghiera comune (κοινή) per i suoi amici vedendoli “fare e augurarsi cose che non era conveniente fare e augurarsi, benché sembrasse loro di si”8: Ζεῦ βασιλεῦ, τὰ μὲν ἐσθλά, φησί, καὶ εὐχομένοιςκαὶ ἀνεύκτοις ἄμμι δίδου, τὰ δὲ δειλὰ καὶ εὐχομένοις ἀπαλέξειν. Zeus re, i beni – dice – sia che preghiamo di averne, sia che non preghiamo, concedici, i mali invece – ordina – allontanali anche se nella preghiera li chiediamo.
4 Nelle parole attribuite al poeta è espressa da Socrate l’idea fondamentale su cui si regge l’intero dialogo: conviene rimettersi totalmente agli dei. Non si tratta soltanto di una massima filosofica d’ispirazione platonica, com’è stata considerata finora negli studi, ma di una vera e propria istruzione rituale, motivata da un’esigenza concreta: trovare il modo più adatto, ed efficace, per rivolgersi agli dei9.
2. I caratteri formali della preghiera del poeta: una preghiera “omerica”
5 La preghiera del poeta si configura formalmente come una semplice preghiera di richiesta10. La scelta dell’esametro dipende essenzialmente dal contesto in cui essa è inserita e dalla funzione che l’autore le attribuisce all’interno del dialogo11. Poco prima, in Alcibiade II, 142b, Socrate portava a sostegno della sua tesi, ovvero che gli uomini accusano ingiustamente gli dei credendo che da questi derivi il male, un verso dell’ Odissea12. Il riferimento al “poeta”, ancora una volta Omero, ricorre più avanti nel corso del dialogo, in riferimento ad un verso del Margite13 e alla fine con una citazione dal quinto libro dell’Iliade (v. 127) 14. La scelta dell’esametro e l’anonimato del poeta dipendono quindi dalla volontà, da parte dell’autore, di presentare la preghiera sotto la patina di antichità e autorevolezza garantita dallo stile “omerico”.
6 Non risulta invece omerica l’invocazione. Che la preghiera sia indirizzata a Zeus in qualità di sovrano degli dei e degli uomini, e non secondo uno dei suoi altri epiteti, non è un fatto privo di significato15,soprattutto considerando che Zeus, per il carattere panellenico del suo culto e per la sua funzione di monarca, raramente viene ivocato in preghiera e che quello dell’Alcibiade II è l’unico caso in cui il vocativo Ζεῦ βασιλεῦ viene impiegato nell’esametro16. Un caso tipico in cui Zeus è invocato come re è quello della preghiera del sovrano: dopo aver dato ordine ai soldati di prepararsi alla partenza, Ciro sacrifica prima a Zeus re, poi alle altre divinità chiedendo il loro aiuto nella battaglia imminente17. Fraenkel si è occupato di questo tipo di invocazione a proposito del v. 355 dell’Agamennone e del v. 532 dei Persiani di Eschilo (in entrambi i casi all’inizio di anapesti corali): in uno, gli anziani della corte danno espressione turbata alla notizia della sconfitta; nell’altro gli anziani di Argo gioiscono alla notizia della caduta di Troia. Poiché in Aristofane il vocativo Ζεῦ βασιλεῦ ricorre sei volte in esclamazioni introdotte da ὅσον, οἷον,ὡς o con il genitivo esclamativo18, per esprimere di volta in volta sorpresa, dolore, paura (nello scolio al v. 2 delle Nuvole si legge appunto che gli ateniesi
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invocavano Zeus παρὰ τὰς συμφοράς), secondo Fraenkel questa forma di invocazione apparterrebbe al linguaggio comune dell’Atene di V secolo, e sarebbe stata impiegata “under stress of marked excitement”19. Piuttosto, almeno nel caso in esame, la scelta di invocare Zeus come “re” è funzionale all’economia del dialogo e al tenore della richiesta. Dal momento che la preghiera è intesa come insegnamento rivolto agli “amici insensati”, tale carattere pedagogico non riguarda solo il suo contenuto ma anche la forma e la struttura: l’invocazione è intesa quindi come invocazione esemplare. Invocare Zeus in quanto re degli dei e degli uomini e garante della giustizia20, risulta particolarmente appropriato in una preghiera che lascia la scelta del bene agli dei e che fa della preghiera uno strumento di giustizia dal momento che non necessariamente gli dei sannocosa è buono o agiscono sempre in base alla morale umana21.
7 La richiesta, in questa sua formulazione, non è attestata prima dell’Alcibiade II22. Come risulta evidente dall’argomentazione di Socrate, il bene richiesto non è il bene assoluto ma ciò che risulta davvero utile per l’orante23. Non è da escludere che l’espressione giochi sul doppio senso di τὰ ἐσθλά, che indica in genere le ricchezze 24: in questo caso i beni come la ricchezza autentica, come cose degne di essere chieste agli dei25. La richiesta di allontanare i mali si riferisce non solo ai beni apparenti ma, con ogni probabilità, anche alle richieste esplicite di male per i propri nemici26. Del resto la preghiera irriflessiva è nell’Alcibiade II essa stessa una maledizione27.
8 L’altro esempio che Socrate presenta ad Alcibiade, secondo una progressione tipica dei dialoghi platonici, la preghiera dei Lacedemoni, rappresenta un’applicazione pratica delle parole del poeta: “emulando il poeta, o se anche avevano fatto da sé questa osservazione, e in privato e in pubblico innalzano in ogni occasione una preghiera analoga, supplicando gli dei di concedere loro, accanto ai beni, le cose belle(τὰ καλά)” 28.La loro preghiera, che coinvolge a differenza di quella del poeta anche i beni morali, è presentata in contrasto con la pietà tradizionale degli Ateniesi e degli altri greci in generale che “chiedono nelle preghiere ciò che capita, sia beni sia mali, per cui gli dei, udendoli proferire preghiere blasfeme, non accettano processioni sontuose né sacrifici” 29. Nemmeno la preghiera dei Lacedemoni garantisce tuttavia l’esaudimento: “se è capitato loro di non godere della fortuna (εὐτυχεῖς) in tutto, non è stato a causa della loro preghiera ma dipende dagli dei, credo, concedere ciò per cui si è pregato o il contrario di ciò”30.
3. La richiesta delle “cose buone” fra riflessione filosofica e culto
9 Bickel considerava la concezione della preghiera presupposta dall’Alcibiade II del tutto difforme da quella platonica, e per farlo prendeva come punto di riferimento la preghiera di Socrate a conclusione del Fedro: la preghiera del poeta appariva ispirata ad una identificazione bene-utile indegna di Platone31. Le preghiere presenti nei dialoghi platonici non possono in effetti essere considerate delle preghiere vere e proprie: esse piuttosto riassumono e incarnano l’insegnamento presentato nel dialogo in cui sono inserite32. Al contrario, la preghiera dell’Alcibiade II si presenta espressamente come un modello, una guida all’orante non-filosofo, che mantiene la richiesta del bene su un livello generico senza che ne venga approfondita la pregnanza filosofica.
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10 Questa concezione della preghiera dipende in più punti dal modo in cui l’argomento è affrontato nelle Leggi. Dopo aver affermato la pericolosità di una preghiera irriflessiva33, l’Ateniese stabilisce a proposito dei νόμοι μουσικῆς, cioè le norme che devono regolamentare le preghiere e gli inni nelle cerimonie religiose, che “i poeti, sapendo che le preghiere sono richieste agli dei, devono fare molta attenzione a che non sfugga mai loro di chiedere un male come se fosse un bene” (μή ποτε λάθωσιν κακὸν ὡς ἀγαθὸν αἰτούμενοι). La legge si impone come necessaria dal momento che il poeta non è capace di conoscere in profondità ciò che è buono e ciò che non lo è. Infatti, continua l’Ateniese, se un poeta fa con le parole o nel canto questo errore (ῥήμασιν ἢ καὶ κατὰ μέλος), ossia preghiere non rette (εὐχὰς οὐκ ὀρθάς), farà sì che cittadini chiedano il contrario per le cose più importanti (τοὺς πολίτας περὶ τῶν μεγίστων εὔχεσθαι τἀναντία ποιήσει). Si stabilisce quindi che il poeta non componga altro al di là di ciò che è legale, giusto, bello o buono per la città (δίκαια ἢ καλὰ ἢ ἀγαθὰ μηδὲν ποιεῖν ἄλλο), e che non può mostrare ciò che ha realizzato a nessuno prima che sia mostrato e approvato dagli stessi giudici e custodi delle leggi designati per queste cose34.
11 Questo modo di pregare semplice, che lascia il destino dell’uomo nella mani della divinità invocata, sembra inoltre un tratto caratteristico dell’insegnamento del Socrate storico a partire da Senofonte la sua attestazione più antica in Xenoph., dove è attribuito proprio a Socrate che “pregava gli dei che gli concedessero semplicemente il bene (τἀγαθά), convinto che essi sappiano perfettamente ciò che è bene”35. È poi attribuito a due “discepoli” di Socrate: Diogene il Cinico36 e Aristippo di Cirene37. Che Socrate sia stato influenzato o meno da Pitagora su questo punto, la preghiera semplicemente per il bene affonda le radici in un contesto diverso, prefilosofico38. In questo modo ad esempio si rivolgono Teognide ad Apollo (σὺ δέ μοι κλῦθι καὶ ἐσθλὰ δίδου)39e Demetra alla sua ospite (καὶ σὺ γύναι μάλα χαῖρε, θεοὶ δέ τοι ἐσθλὰ πόροιεν)40. La madre di Cleobi e Bitone prega semplicemente per quello che l’uomo può ottenere di migliore, più nobile lasciando indefinito l’oggetto della richiesta41. Inoltre istruzioni analoghe ricorrono anche in altri contesti culturali. Si veda ad esempio nella tradizione giudaica il monito di Qoelet 5,1-2: “Non essere precipitoso nel parlare e il tuo cuore non si affretti a proferir parola di fronte a Dio: le tue parole siano dunque poche”, di Siracide 7,14: “Non ripetere le parole nella preghiera”, e in quella giudaico-cristiana i versetti che introducono il Padrenostro in Matteo: “Pregando non balbettate come i gentili, i quali credono di essere esauditi per le loro molte parole (πολυλογία). Non imitateli, poiché il Padre vostro sa di cosa avete bisogno prima che glielo chiedate”42.
12 La preghiera è nella sua essenza un atto rituale, un’azione tradizionale e stereotipata che colloca temporaneamente l’orante in una condizione diversa e superiore a quella abituale43. In quanto rito la preghiera crea attraverso il linguaggio verbale e gestuale una speciale connessione con la divinità invocata. Il suo meccanismo è analogo a quello dell’incantesimo: entrambi richiedono delle parole “magiche” che permettano di penetrare nella sfera divina44. È la sua conformità alla tradizione a rendere una preghiera autorevole ed in grado di comunicare con la divinità. La riproduzione di un identico schema, il linguaggio, il richiamo ad una determinata tradizione rivestono ovviamente anche una funzione didattica45. Il modello offerto dalla preghiera come testo non è sufficiente a guidare l’orante: anche la “metapreghiera”, ovvero il discorso sulla preghiera, deve essere considerata orale nella sua natura e nella struttura e può diventare, come nel caso dell’Alcibiade Secondo, preghiera essa stessa.
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13 La preghiera attribuita al poeta nell’Alcibiade Secondo si presenta come un insegnamento di carattere generale che nasce come risposta pratica ad una necessità cultuale. Il bene richiesto a Zeus non ha carattere “metafisico”: si tratta semplicemente di ciò che è utile per l’uomo. Sia la preghiera del poeta che l’esempio dei Lacedemoni si inseriscono in un contesto rituale, la costruzione di un linguaggio appropriato agli dei e lo fanno in due direzioni diverse: il primo ha carattere “popolare” e “sapienziale”, il secondo si avvicina maggiormente alle altre preghiere socratiche. Che la preghiera del poeta vada intesa in un contesto cultuale, ossia come guida alle preghiere reali che i suoi contemporanei rivolgevano agli dei, lo suggeriscono la cornice del dialogo con Alcibiade che si reca a pregare “presso il dio” e il riferimento finale al sacrificio che in quest’occasione Alcibiade avrebbe dovuto presentare al dio. L’utilitarismo che Bickel indicava come un “difetto”, una prova dell’inferiorità filosofica dell’opera, ne caratterizza invece l’aspetto cultuale e liturgico. La sua origine non va collocata all’interno di un circolo filosofico. Il suo posto non è l’agorà né il simposio. Il suo posto è il tempio e la casa, il suo posto è il rito.
NOTE
*. Il presente lavoro nasce in forma seminariale all’interno di un corso dedicato alla preghiera in quanto genere letterario presso la Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa nell’a.a. 2005/2006. Oggetto di analisi era ed è l’aspetto rituale della preghiera più che quello filosofico, analizzato di recente da D. ZELLER, “La prière dans le Second Alcibiade”, Kernos 15 (2002), p. 53-59 (= ZELLER 2002) che ne sottolinea la funzione propedeutica all’interno dell’Accademia. Ringrazio il dott. Peter Van Nuffelen per aver letto e discusso con me questo articolo. Per una presentazione di caratterre generale della preghiera nel contesto culturale greco, con relativa bibliografia aggiornata, rimando a D. JAKOV, E. VOUTIRAS, s.v. “Gebet bei den Griechen”, ThesCRA III (2005), p. 105-141 (= JAKOV 2005). 1. Euripide, Fenicie, 1359-1376. 2. Esopo, Favole, 119. 3. Sulle cause del mancato esaudimento vedi J.D. MIKALSON, “Unanswered Prayers in Greek Tragedy”, JHS 109 (1989), p. 81-98 (81-82). 4. La preghiera, al pari del sacrificio e di altre forme di culto, diventa luogo privilegiato della riflessione filosofica sia come critica degli abusi o dell’attitudine che la ispira sia in quanto oggetto di regolamentazione. Queste riflessioni, talvolta isolate, talvolta inserite in un discorso etico di carattere generale, possono assumere la forma di veri e propri trattati, andati quasi tutti perduti (ad eccezione, appunto, dell’Alcibiade II e dell’Orazione V di Massimo di Tiro). Questo genere di riflessione che attacca la pericolosià, l’immoralità, la contradditorietà della preghiera di richiesta, non mira al suo annullamento ma alla sua trasformazione. Per un’introduzione generale all’argomento rimando a C. MUELLER-GOLDINGEN, “Zur Behandlung der Gebetsproblematik in der griechisch-römischen Antike”, Hyperboreus 2 (1996), p. 21-37; S. PULLEYN, Prayer in Greek Religion, Oxford, 1997 (= PULLEYN 1997), p. 196-216; A. DIHLE, “Das Gebet der Philosophen”, in E. CAMPI, L. GRANE, A.M. RITTER (ed.), Oratio: das Gebet in patristischer und reformatorischer Sicht. Festschrift zum 65. Geburtstag von Alfred Schindler, Göttingen, 1999, p. 23-41; G. DORIVAL, “Païens en prière”, in G. DORIVAL, D. PRALON (ed.), Prières méditerranéennes
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hier et aujourd’hui, Aix-en-Provence, 2000, p. 87-101. Sulla riflessione eucologica nel cristianesimo antico, che riprende molti degli argomenti utilizzati dalla tradizione filosofica greca, si vedano i contributi raccolti nel volume miscellaneo F. COCCHINI (ed.), Il dono e la sua ombra. Ricerche sul “Peri euches” di Origene, Roma, 1997. 5. Plat., Alcibiade II, 138a. La paternità platonica del dialogo è stata confutata agli inizi del secolo scorso da E.BICKEL, “Ein Dialog aus der Akademie des Arkesilas”, AGPh17 (1904), p. 460-479, che vi leggeva un attacco “scolastico” all’etica cinico-stoica composto nel periodo dello scolarcato di Arcesilao (268-241 a.C.). Cf. inoltre A.E. TAYLOR, Plato: The Man and his work, London 1960, p. 528 sq.; A. CARLINI, “Alcuni dialoghi pseudoplatonici e l’Accademia di Arcesilao”, ASNP 31 (1962), p. 33-63; W.K.C. GUTHRIE, A History of Greek Philosophy, Cambridge 1978, III, p. 387. Il dialogo è invece collocato nel periodo dello scolarcato di Polemone (276-275 a.C.) da A. MAGRIS, “Der Zweite Alkibiades: ein Wendepunkt in der Geschichte der Akademie”, GB18 (1992), p. 47-64 1992. Secondo ZELLER (2002), il dialogo non può essere considerato un riflesso dello scetticismo di Arcesilao o un attacco all’etica cinico-stoica, bensì la presentazione di temi platonici in un contesto scolastico. In controtendenza G.R. LEDGER, Re-Counting Plato, Oxford, 1989, p. 167 sq, che sulla base di un’analisi computazionale non esclude la paternità platonica dell’opera. Lo spunto alla composizione del dialogo sulla preghiera è fornito probabilmente dal passo dell’Alcibiade I in cui Socrate svela la presunzione del giovane interlocutore che pretende di governare i suoi concittadini pur ignorando quale sia la cosa più utile per loro (Alcibiade I, 105a sq.). Così CARLINI, supra, p. 47. 6. Plat., Alcibiade II, 138b. 7. Plat., Alcibiade II, 140d-143a. Cf. inoltre Senofonte, Memorabili I, 1, 9 È quindi l’ignoranza del bene a suscitare richieste insensate. Non si tratta comunque del classico intellettualismo socratico: a volte l’ignoranza è preferibile, dal momento che pur non conoscendo il bene lo si può fare e chiedere ugualmente. La falsa scienza è più pericolosa perché illusoria e guida inconsapevolmente a formulare richieste insensate. Non è un caso che il dialogo abbia come protagonista un uomo noto per la sua μεγαλοψυχί́α. Cf. Plat., Alcibiade II, 150c. Secondo BICKEL (1904), p. 469 l’accenno alla μεγαλοψυχί́α, in quanto manifestazione di ἀφροσύνη, farebbe luce sulle posizioni dell’autore del dialogo dal momento che questa virtù è celebrata dall’etica cinico-stoica. 8. Plat., Alcibiade II, 143a. Questa breve composizione in esametri riccore in forma pressoché identica nell’antologia del grammatico Orione (V, 17) che la attribuisce ai pitagorici: differisce per l’invocazione (Ζεῦ Κρονίδη) e per una variante nel secondo verso (τὰ δὲ λυγρὰ καὶ εὐχομένοις ἀπερύκοις). Essa ricorre nella medesima forma ma senza che l’autore venga precisato in Antologia Palatina X, 108. Le varianti dipendono probabilmente dal fatto che nel dialogo pseudoplatonico i due versi erano inseriti nel discorso diretto: la loro presentazione in forma autonoma necessitava pertanto delle modifiche. 9. È stato soprattutto il carattere vago e indeterminato della richiesta (la preghiera semplicemente per il “bene” è molto comune nella tradizione filosofica greca almeno a partire da Socrate) unitamente al dibattito sull’autenticità del dialogo a svalutare il significato storico religioso. Cf. PULLEYN (1997), p. 210. 10. L’assenza della pars epica non sorprende. Come ha mostrato D. AUBRIOT, “Prière et rhétorique en Grèce ancienne (jusqu’à la fin du Ve s. av. J.-C.) : quelques jalons”, Mètis 6 (1991), p. 147-165, lo schema tripartito, che a partire da K. AUSFELD, De Graecorum precationibus quaestiones, Lipsiae, 1903, è stato assunto come punto di riferimento obbligato, non sembra possedere alcun valore religioso particolare. Piuttosto che ad una tradizione liturgica fissata, questo schema apparterrebbe ad una tradizione letteraria, omerica. Cf. JAKOV (2005), p. 106 sq. 11. Di per sé l’esametro non è un metro legato in particolare alla preghiera né può indicarne con certezza la funzione originaria. Cf. M.L. WEST, Greek Metre, Oxford, 1984, 35 sq. 12. Omero, Odissea I, 32. Sulle accuse rivolte dagli uomini agli dei, sia sotto forma di apostrofe sia come parte di una preghiera vera e propria, che sono frequenti soprattutto in tragedia, si veda J.
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LABARBE, “La prière contestataire dans la poésie grecque”, in H. LIMET, J. RIES (ed.),L’expérience de la prière dans les grandes religions. Actes du Colloque de Louvain-la-Neuve et Liège (22-23 novembre 1978), Louvain-la-Neuve, 1980, p. 137-148; H.S. VERSNEL, “ReligiousMentality in ancient Prayer”, in H.S. VERSNEL (ed.), Faith, Hope and Worship. Aspects of religious Mentality in the ancient World, Leiden, 1981, p. 1-64; PULLEYN (1997), p. 196-216. A questo atteggiamento di critica nei confronti dell’operato degli dei si riferisce Socrate poco prima di introdurre la preghiera in Plat.,Alcibiade II 138b: ἐγὼ μὲν οὖν ἀπορῶ μὴ ὡς ἀληθῶς μάτην θεοὺς ἄνθρωποι αἰτιῶνται, ἐξ ἐκείνων φάμενοι κακά σφισιν εἶναι. Il problema riguarda non gli dei e la loro capacità di esaudire le richieste umane, ma l’ignoranza e l’insensatezza di chi prega. 13. Plat., Alcibiade II, 147b. 14. Plat., Alcibiade II, 150d. 15. Sulla scelta dell’attributo vedi PULLEYN (1997), p. 96-115. 16. Ζεὺı βασιλεύı, assente in Omero, è invece peculiare ad Esiodo, al ciclo epico (come in Tebaide, fr. 3, 3 [ed. BERNABÉ]), agli Inni (Inno a Demetra, 358), alla lirica a partire da Solone (cf. fr. 40 [ed. WEST]). 17. Senofonte, Ciropedia III, 3, 21. 18. Aristofane, Nuvole, 2, 153; Rane, 1278; Vespe, 635; Pluto, 1095; Uccelli, 625. 19. E. FRAENKEL, Aeschylus. Agamemnon, Oxford, 1950, II, p. 186-187. 20. L’imparzialità delle sue decisioni ha trovato in Omero un’immagine nella bilancia d’oro che Zeus regge in mano (come in Om., Il. XXII 209-213; VIII 69; XVI 658; XIX 223). Nessuno può obbligare Zeus o chiedergli conto di qualcosa (Il. IX, 502-510). Cf. W. BURKERT, La religione greca, Milano, 20032 [1977], p. 260-268. Su questo argomento rimando all’ormai classico H. LLOYD-JONES, The Justice of Zeus, Berkeley, 1971. 21. Cf. ad esempio Il. XIII,631 sq. Cf. inoltre Sofocle, Trachinie, 1266. Teognide, 373-380 (ed. WEST) fa appello a quest’aspetto della regalità di Zeus esprimendo meraviglia per il fatto che giusti e iniqui ricevono lo stessotrattamento da parte del sovrano degli dei. Si veda in particolare Iliade IX, 502-510 in cui le preghiere sono definite “figlie del grande Zeus” e descritte come strumenti della sua giustizia. 22. Sulla ricorrenza di formule analoghe nella lirica arcaica e in tragedia vedi infra. 23. Cf. ZELLER (2002), p. 57. 24. L’associazione tra ἐσθλά e δειλά è quasi proverbiale a partire da Omero ( cf. ad esempio Il. XVI, 837). Vedi inoltre Empedocle, fr. 15, 5 (ed. WRIGHT) e soprattutto Teognide, 1167-1168 (ed. WEST): Τῶν ἀγαθῶν ἐσθλὴ μὲν ἀπόκρισις, ἐσθλὰ δὲ ἔργα·ͅ τῶν δὲ κακῶν ἄνεμοι δειλὰ φέρουσιν ἔπη. 25. Cf. Senofane, fr 1D, 19-24. 26. In termini generali la “maledizione” è nella forma una preghiera a tutti gli effetti. Cf. PULLEYN (1997), p. 70-95 con relativa bibliografia. 27. Plat., Alcibiade II, 143b. 28. Plat., Alcibiade II, 148b. Caratteristica della preghiera spartana è l’εὐφημία. Secondo PULLEYN (1997), p. 184 : “εὐφημία does not denote silent, but merely an abstention from certain forms of (ill-omened) speech”. Cf. inoltre D. AUBRIOT, Prière et conceptions religieuses en Grèce ancienne jusqu’à la fin du Ve s. av. J.-C., Lyon, 1992, p. 152-155; P. VANDENHORST, “Silent Prayer in Antiquity”, Numen 41 (1994), p. 1-25. Secondo P.A. MEIJER, “Philosophers, Intellectuals and Religion in Hellas”, in VERSNEL, o.c. ( n. 12), p. 216-262 (235) sarebbe proprio l’attitudine spartana alla preghiera, testimoniata anche da Plutarco, Apophtegmata Laconica, 26, 27, ad aver influenzato l’insegnamento di Socrate. 29. Plat., Alcibiade II,149c. 30. Plat., Alcibiade II, 148c. La loro preghiera, come quella del poeta, non garantisce l’esaudimento: alla base si pone il principio dell’assoluta libertà degli dei, della loro giustizia e incorruttibilità.
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31. Plat., Fedro, 179b-c. Cf. E.BICKEL,“Platonisches Gebetslaben”, AGPh NF 14 (1908), p. 535-554. La sua tesi è stata confutata daJ. SOUIHLÉ, Dialogues suspects : Second Alcibiade; Hipparque; Minos; Les Rivaux; Théagès; Clitophon, Paris, 1930, p. 13 sq. 32. Cf. A. MOTTE, “La prière du philosophe chez Platon”, in LIMET – RIES, o.c. (n. 12), p. 173-204. 33. Plat., Leggi, 688b. 34. Plat., Leggi, 801a-d. Cf. inoltre Plat., Repubblica II, 377d-378e. Questo è il compito assegnato ai sacerdoti, da Platone in Politico, 290cd: Καὶ μὴν καὶ τὸ τῶν ἱερέων αὖ γένος, ὡς τὸ νόμιμόν φησι, παρὰ μὲν ἡμῶν δωρεὰς θεοῖς διὰ θυσιῶν ἐπιστῆμόνἐστι κατὰ νοῦν ἐκείνοις δωρεῖσθαι, παρὰ δὲ ἐκείνων ἡμῖν εὐχαῖς κτῆσιν ἀγαθῶν αἰτήσασθαι. La funzione dell poeta, nelle Leggi e nell’Alcibiade II, è solo quella di “educatore”. 35. Sen., Memorabili I, 3, 1-4. 36. Diogene Laerzio, Vita VI, 42. 37. Aristippo, fr. 132 (ed. GIANNANTONI). 38. Oltre che a Socrate e al suo circolo, questo insegnamento è attribuito anche a Pitagora e ai suoi discepoli. Cf. Diodoro Siculo, X, 9,7; Diogene Laerzio, Vita, VIII 9; Porfirio, AMarcella, 12-13; Giamblico, Vita di Pitagora, 145; Orione, Grammatica V, 17. Sull’origine “popolare” e prefilosofica della riflessione eucologica in ambiente filosofico, cf. VERSNEL, l.c. (n. 12), p. 24; MUELLER-GOLDINGEN, l.c. (n. 4), p. 21 sq. 39. Teognide, 1 (ed. WEST). 40. Inno a Demetra,225. 41. Erodoto, I, 31, 18-22. Cf. Aristof., Tesmoforie, 310; 350; Eur., Elena,753. 42. Cf. G. SCROFANI, “‘Non diventate come loro!’: la preghiera dei non ebrei in Mt 6,7-8 e il Padre nostro”, ASE 23 (2006), p. 309-330. Per la tradizione filosofica latina si vedano ad esempio Seneca, Epistole aLucilio, 31, 5 e Persio, Satire II; Filostrato, Vita di Apollonio di Tiana I, 11. 43. Cf. M. MAUSS, La preghiera e i riti orali, Brescia, 1997 [or. 1909], p. 27: “La preghiera è un fenomeno sociale non soltanto per il suo contenuto, ma anche per la sua forma, essendo le sue forme d’origine esclusivamente sociale. Essa infatti non esiste al di fuori di un rituale (…). Le circostanze, il momento e il luogo in cui le preghiere devono essere recitate, l’atteggiamento da assumere, sono tutti rigorosamente fissati. Così anche nelle religioni che danno più spazio all’azione individuale, ogni preghiera è un discorso rituale adottato da una società religiosa. Si tratta di una serie di parole il cui senso è determinato e che sono allineate nell’ordine riconosciuto dal gruppo (…). L’individuo quindi non fa altro che rivestire i suoi sentimenti personali con un linguaggio che non è opera sua. Per quanto individuale sia la preghiera, alla base di essa rimane pur sempre il rituale” (27). In generale per una definizione della “preghiera” vedi E. VON SEVERUS, s.v. “Gebet I”, RAC 8 (1972), p. 1134-1258 dal punto di vista storico religioso. 44. Cf. F. GRAF, “Prayer in magic and religious ritual”, in C. FARAONE, D. OBBINK (ed.), Magika hiera. Ancient Greek magic and religion, New York, 1991, p. 188-213. 45. Cf. M. KLINGHARDT, “Prayer Formularies For Public Recitation. Their Use and Function in Ancient Religion”, Numen 46 (1999), p. 1-52.
RIASSUNTI
Dans le Second Alcibiade, Socrate propose une prière simple pour les « bonnes choses » comme exemple de la manière adéquate de s’adresser aux dieux et il l’attribue au « poète ». Jusqu’à
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présent, une telle prière a été étudiée comme exemple de prière philosophique, c’est-à-dire en tant que discours sur la prière plutôt que comme prière en tant que telle. Même si elle fait partie intégrante de l’enseignement proposé par Socrate dans ce dialogue, sa signification véritablement liturgique ne peut être minimisée. En regard des autres prières platoniciennes, la prière du poète se présente comme une réponse concrète, propédeutique, répondant à une nécessité pratique. Il s’agit de chercher la manière la plus générale possible d’éviter les conséquences néfastes d’une prière irréfléchie et peu respectueuse à l’égard des dieux.
In Alcibiades II Socrates provides a prayer simply for “good things” as an instance of the proper way to address the gods and ascribes it to the “poet”. This prayer has been studied up to now as a philosophical prayer, an instruction on prayer much more than a prayer in its own right. Even if it is understood as a part of the philosophical teaching proposed by Socrates in the dialogue, its actual and authentic liturgical meaning cannot be overlooked. Compared to the other platonic prayers, the poet’s prayer seems to be a real and propaedeutic answer to practical necessity in order to find the most general way of avoiding the aftermath of an apathetic, disrespectful prayer to the gods.
AUTORE
GIORGIO SCROFANI Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa Piazza dei Cavalieri 7 I – 56126 PISA [email protected]
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Serious Singing: The Orphic Hymns as Religious Texts
Fritz Graf
I.
1 In his Habilitationsschrift of 1891, Albrecht Dieterich (1866-1908) set out to prove the liturgical character of the Orphic Hymns.1 He strongly took sides in the yet undecided debate between those who, like himself, regarded the Hymns as ritual texts, and those who thought that they were purely literary creations – written, as Lobeck phrased it two generations earlier, “to show how Orpheus would have taught the best way to pray”.2 Dieterich’s main argument rested on the observation that some of the praying persons are designated as βουκόλοι. Using the slowly growing epigraphical record on local religions, he demonstrated that this title reflected actual practice of Dionysiac mystery groups especially in Asia Minor. Over a century later, we have a much larger dossier on these groups: the recent publication by Anne-Françoise Jaccottet contains a long list of Dionysiac “bouviers”3. Dieterich’s insight proved to be basically correct, even though his definition needs correction, and his work, together with the research of Otto Kern, established the Orphic Hymns as a liturgical collection4. In her commented edition of the hymns, Gabriella Ricciardelli treated the question as settled, and Anne-France Morand a year later was able to look more closely at the underlying Bacchic groups. She did so at some depths; but she also, correctly, took account of the often neglected literary qualities of these hymns, as did Jean Rudhardt whose unfinished study on the Hymns just has been published5.
2 So far, so good. Nobody seems to have serious doubts about the liturgical function of the hymns any more. But there still is Martin West’s judgment that all this is not that serious: rather, the eighty-seven Orphic hymns attest to a “cheerful inexpensive dabbling in religion by a literary-minded burgher and his friends”6. Given the price of incense in antiquity, I do not know how inexpensive all this would have been. As to its seriousness, it would be all too easy to point out that this argument depends on one’s own definition of religion and might contain a mite of Christianocentrism; but I don’t
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want to pursue this line of argument. The underlying question, rather, is that of how to understand Bacchic and Orphic mystery associations: is there a spread from the zealous seriousness of initiates of the ilk of Euripides’ Hippolytus (at least in his father’s angry reading) to the gaily festivity of a religious Rotary Club meeting? After all, some of the private mystery sanctuaries have an iconography that is characterized by tryphé, as again Jaccottet pointed out7. And, if there were such a spread, where do our Hymns fit in, and the association that might be behind them? In order to determine this, I will look at the cheerfulness of what happened in this group, and insert it into the wider world of Dionysiac mystery groups in the imperial time8.
II.
3 I want to start from a remark made by Dieterich which, as far as I can see, has been consistently overlooked. At the beginning of his analysis of the structure of the hymn book, he explains the position of the first two hymns, to Hecate (h. 1) and to (Hecate) Prothyraia (h. 2), not only with the cosmic function of Hecate in h. 1, as we would expect, but with the function of the Hekataia in Greek architecture: “Nonne et horum mysteriorum sacellum mystas intrantes primum quidem θεὰν κλειδοῦχον (v.5) contemplatos vel certe veneratos esse pones?”9 The position of the hymn does not only refer to a cosmogonical ordering of the book (a system Dieterich then adopts for the rest of the book), it reflects ritual reality, the actual experience of the initiates when entering their sanctuary and passing a Hekataion in front of its entrance.
4 The fact that Dieterich forgets this insight as fast as he had it shows that ritual is not the most obvious organizational principle of the book; the cosmogonical distribution proved more fruitful to him. One might also suspect that Dieterich, despite being a student of Usener, was at this point more interested in theology than in liturgy. But we can still follow the ritual principle as well. The next hymn addresses Nyx. The singer himself calls her a cosmogonical principle (“I address Night, the mother of gods and humans”): this resonates with the Orphic cosmogonies such as the Derveni text that begin their genealogies with Nyx10. But it is very likely that the position of Night refers also, and perhaps mainly, to the time when the ritual took place, as was the case with Eleusis and other mystery rites: the rites begin at sun-set, and they last the entire night11. When entering the sanctuary at dusk for the rites, an invocation to Night makes sense. The next hymn, to Ouranos (proving that the overarching ordering principle is the cosmogonical sequence) asks for “a pure life for the newly initiate”, νεοφάντης (a word used only here): I regard this not as a coincidence but as a reference to a ritual sequence: we deal with initiation.
5 Towards the end of the book, we find Night’s opposite power, Dawn, h. 78. If the rites begun at dusk, they ended at dawn. The hymn that immediately precedes it addresses Memory, Mnemosyne, and asks her explicitely “to awaken for the initiates the memory of the sacred rite and to send away forgetfulness of it”. This is a fitting prayer at the end of the sacred night with its rituals that it is crucial to remember, both because of the immediate bliss they have brought and because of the eschatological consequences: the gold leaves from the graves in Hipponion and Entella again invoke Memory12.
6 If thus one principle of order is the progression of the ritual action, we better understand how the center of the book works, the invocations to Dionysos, his circle and his two mothers, Persephone and Semele. On a first level of understanding, this
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sequence reflects Orphic mythology, from Zeus seducing Persephone in h. 29 and the result of the seduction, the child Dionysos, in h. 30, to the Titans, “ancestors of our fathers”, in h. 37, and from Semele, the second mother of Dionysos, in h.44, to the sequence of hymns 45-53 that address various aspects of Dionysos. On a liturgical level, however, one might also think of this long sequence as the center of the entire liturgy. The hymn to Semele is the only hymn that explicitly refers to a ritual act and its etiology: Persephone created for Semele “an honor (τιμή) among mortal humans at the time of the trieteris, when they celebrate the birth labor for your Dionysos, the sacred table, and the pure mystery rites”: Τιμὰς τευξαμένη παρ’ ἀγαυῆς Περσεφονείης ἐν θνητοῖσι βροτοῖσι ἀνὰ τριετηρίδας ὥρας ἡνίκα σοῦ Βάκχου γονίμην ὠδῖνα τελῶσιν εὐίερόν τε τράπεζαν ἰδὲ μυστήριά θ’ἁγνά. (h. 44, 6-9) 7 This describes one of the rituals performed during the biannually recurring major festival of Dionysos; it honors Semele’s motherhood with what might be public sacrifice (since a gloss in Hesychius gives the festival name Σεμέλ<η>ς τράπεζα13) and closely connects the mysteries with her: Persephone, the Lady of the Bacchic Mysteries, thus gave a place of honor to the second mother of Dionysos14. Semele’s “birth labor” is remarkable in the light of the traditional myth where pregnant Semele died well before she could give birth: is it simply a circumlocution for this event, or did this mystery group tell a happier story? One should not forget that several centuries later, a fifth- century CE ivory pyxis in the Museo Civico Archeologico of Bologna depicts what seems the regular birth of Dionysos from his mother; the iconography is unclear enough to make a decision between Semele and Persephone impossible, but other images presuppose Bacchic mysteries as well15.
8 I am aware that this is only a working hypothesis at best, and one that is not easy to prove, except by the argument from the sequence of hymns. But there are other aspects that belong to the collection of the Hymns as a ritual text, and it is to one of them that I turn now.
III.
9 All the hymns have a somewhat peculiar structure; Anne-France Morand analyzed it at length and with usefully tabled material. They differ from ordinary ancient prayers in two main ways.
10 If one looks for the famous and well-researched tripartite structure of ancient prayer – invocatio, argumentum, preces in Ausfeld’s term –, the second part is somewhat deficient in the Hymns, compared to other prayer texts; it simply somehow continues the invocation16. In regular prayer, this second part has a very clear and distinct function that separates it from the invocation: it establishes the right of the praying person to ask the divinity for help, either because in the past that person has brought lavish offerings, or because the divinity helped in earlier cases and thus the patron-client relationship is already well-established. Even Proclus, whose hymns in many respects are close to the Orphic hymns, regularly introduces such a justification as his second part. Only the Orphic hymns behave differently and shrink this part to an appendix of the invocation. But there is an easy explanation for this anomaly. The praying persons are initiated, and the divinity is well aware of this fact; often enough, the praying
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persons refer to themselves as μύσται. This is enough to establish the close relationship with the divinity that justifies the claim to divine help. This explanation assumes that the hymns are really sung in a mystery ritual performed by initiates only; it does not determine whether they had to be sung all or whether the association could sing some shorter selection.
11 The second anomaly is that the Hymns do not ask for individual and highly specific divine favors, as does, for example, Chryses in the first book of the Iliad, Sappho in her prayer to Aphrodite or, presumably, countless humans every day. Everything these hymns demand from their gods is rather general – that the gods be present at the ritual; or that they favor the initiates and help them with their life. More specific things are specific in relation to the divinity only: Eileithyia is asked for good births, Poseidon for help against the dangers of earthquakes and sailing, the Clouds for fertile rain. It is this feature that made the Protestant Lobeck think they were ideal prayers: as he saw it, they do not express individual and egotistic desires, but a concern for general welfare of the liturgical group, or even of the community at large17.
12 As any hymn or prayer, the Orphic Hymns ask the divinity to personally participate in the ritual. One of the recurrent forms which this wish takes is that the divinity might arrive εὐάντητος towards the boukolos or the initiate. The adjective is easily understandable18. It designates someone who is ‘good to meet’; its opposite, δυσάντητος (attested only late) characterizes suffering and disease that is hard to escape19. Lucian’s Timon talks about his experience when his generosity made him a beggar: suddenly, his former friends disappear around a corner when the spot him from afar, “as if they spotted a sight that was unwelcome to meet and had to be turned away”.20
13 To ask a divinity to be ‘good to meet’ instead of being ‘difficult’, at a first glance, does not seem spectacular; gods are powerful, and fear is part of epiphany (“jeder Engel ist schrecklich”, as Rilke had it), and one wishes to meet their benign side. There is more to it, however, as already Lucian seems to intimate: his language is religious, resonates with the imagery of meeting demons and ghosts. Such an unwelcome demon is a συνάντημα, as a MagicalPapyrus has it: in this papyrus, the speaker claims that he carries the god’s name as a powerful amulet (phylakterion) in his heart, so that no spirit (pneuma), no demon (daimonion), no synanthema nor anything else that belongs to the evils of Hades has power over him21. Outside the Hymns, the adjective εὐάντητος is mostly used of superhuman beings in their interaction with humans22. It is rare and occurs almost only in authors of the Imperial epoch. In inscriptions, again only from the imperial epoch, it occurs in a well-defined religious context: it is always given to the Mother of the Gods, be it in a healing cult in Attica, in an inscription in Egypt or, as Thea Euantetos, in Lydia23. The only exception is a dedicatory epigram from Calchedon where it characterizes Poseidon as the protector at sea, in a prayer-like periphrasis. None of these inscriptions gives much context or explains the epithet24.
14 One text deserves more attention. A prayer for lecanomancy, preserved in Hippolytus’ Refutatio Omnium Haeresium, addresses Hecate with a long catalog of epithets and identifies her with several female deities and demons: Bombo, Gorgo, Mormo and the Moon Goddess Mene, yet another Anatolian variety of the Great Goddess. At the end, the performer implores her to come euantetos to the sacrifices performed. The echo with the Orphic Hymns is immediate and close, and euantetos has to be taken literally, as Hippolytus makes it clear: “As soon as he has spoken this, you see fire shooting through the air, and they, afraid of this unexpected view, cover their eyes”25. We deal with real
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and frightening apparitions, at least in the ancient report on the rites: the bodily integrity, the sanity and even the survival of the performers depends on the mood in which the divinity will meet them26.
15 The epithet εὐάντητος, it seems, is not as harmless as one might think. If we then turn back to the Hymns and the use they make of it, the picture is only slightly fuzzier. The epithet appears in five hymns, four times in the final prayer. We could expect it in the case of Meter Antaia, h. 41, 10: she is the form of the Great Mother who meets humans, in a not always friendly way27. We might expect it also in the case of Hekate Prothyraia; here, however, it is just one among the many epithets28; it does not appear in the final prayer but in the developed invocation. Artemis, who has both this epithet and is asked to arrive as a goddess ‘good to meet’, fits as well29; she is not only close to Hekate but showed this very quality of being good to meet in an oracle reported by Porphyry, according to which she once prevented Pan, the servant of Dionysos, from killing three woodcutters in the forests around Didyma30. Artemis thus can deflect murderous panic (and we retain the information that Pan, the sender of extreme mania, is subordinated to Dionysos). The Kouretes belong to the circle of Cybele; nothing surprising here then31. This leaves us with h. 3, to Night: “Goddess, good to meet, hearken the suppliant’s voice, come benevolent and send the Terrors away that shine in the night”. Nyx, that is, protects from the terrible and demon-like beings that roam in the dark.
16 Thus, the picture in the Hymns fits the epigraphical and literary evidence: the epithet characterizes powers that are highly ambivalent and not very welcoming, or (more rarely) that protect from more terrible powers.
17 What are we to make of this in the context of the Hymns? One answer would be: it all fits the religious world of later antiquity where uncanny powers, ghosts and demons – and the dangers stemming from meeting them – seem to become more visible and, perhaps, more prominent, and one needed protection against all this. The people who were singing these hymns asked for this protection in the same way they asked Poseidon for protection against earthquakes and storms, or Hygieia for help against disease32, or as they asked the Titans for protection against angry ancestors: h. 37 addresses them as “ancestors of our fathers”, ἡμετέρων πρόγονοι πατέρων (v. 2; which I take as a reference to the Orphic anthropogony), and asks them “to ward of the difficult anger, if one of the chthonic ancestor should approach our houses”, μῆνιν χαλεπὴν ἀποπέμπειν, εἴ τις ἀπὸ χθονίων προγόνων οἴκοις ἐπελάσθη. One has to be careful, however, with generalizations like this: already the author of the Derveni papyrus knows of spells with which the magicians ban impeding demons, δαίμονες ἐμποδών whom the Derveni author reads as revenging ghosts33; the final prayer of the hymn to the Titans resonates with language in the famous purity law from fourth century Cyrene34, and Sarah Iles Johnston has shown the pervasiveness of these believes through the ages: our perception, that is caused again by late antique “loss of nerves”, is more a matter of slanted sources and of modern prejudices than of a drastic religious change35. But even if we would assume that this was a phenomenon typical only of later antiquity, this would still localize these texts squarely in actually performed religion, and show a seriousness that would go beyond informal playfulness.
18 There are other indications that the initiates were afraid of visions and the psychic disturbances they create36. Hymn 39, to Korybas, asks the addressee to send away his difficult wrath and to “put an end to visions, torments of the terrified soul”37. We are again in the world of ecstatic cults, both of Cybele and of Bacchus, but also of the
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possibility that a divinity might drive a human mad by sending apparitions and ghosts38. The same is valid for h. 37, to the Titans: here, psychic disturbances, mania, from which the Titans protect, result from the wrath of evil ancestors. Other hymns also talk about madness: the Eumenides dissolve the body through madness, λυσιμελεῖς οἴστρωι (h. 70, 9); Pan is asked to “send away the panic spur, πανικὸν οἶστρον, to the ends of the world” (h. 11, 23); and Melinoe, to whom I will return, “drives humans mad with airy ghosts”, θνητοὺς μαίνει φαντάσμασιν ἠερίοισι (h. 71, 6), and is asked to “send the soul’s spur, ψυχῆς οἶστρον, to the ends of the world.”39 The initiates seem to live in a world that is filled with threats of madness. After all, their first hymn invoked Hecate not just as the key-holder of the cosmos but as a divinity who “performs bacchic dances among the souls of the corpses”, ψυχαῖς νεκύων μέτα βακχεύουσα, and who is much more difficult to meet than any other divinity, “having a unassailable form”, ἀπρόσμαχον εἶδος ἔχουσαν (h. 1, 8)40 .
IV.
19 But there might be more. It is specially the mystery rituals in which the initiates meet the divinities almost face to face – or at least this is the way the Greek and Roman religious imagination shaped the experience to which mystery rituals gave rise. When the Eleusinian hierophant called Kore, he sounded the gong, and (no doubt) Kore appeared41. The purified Eleusinian initiate is able to touch the snake on Demeter’s lap, in an image on the so-called Urna Lovatelli, an early Imperial urn from a Roman columbarium42. “I met the gods below and the gods above and worshiped them face to face:” thus Apuleius’ Lucius describes the central experience of the Isis rites43. Dionysos and Ariadne’s blissful presence dominates the ritual fresco of the Villa dei Misteri in Pompeii. Not all powers, however, were conferring bliss. Athenians knew of the empusa, an attacking demon who frightened the Eleusinian initiates, presumably only if they had not been properly purified before the rites, as Jamblichus seems to intimate44. Aeschines’ mother famously had the same nickname Empusa, in one explanation because she jumped unexpectedly at her clients when she was performing her initiation rites45: even though thisis only one of two rivaling ancient explanations, it would not have been credible if the fear of frightening demons did not play a role in ancient mystery cults46. Thus, initiates could fear the frightful appearance of some divinities, especially divinities that were felt to be more threatening than others outside the mystery rites as well. And it was especially the powers that dwelled outside the safe space of the city who were perceived in this way, such as the Mountain Mother and her followers, the Kouretes and Corybants, or Artemis and Hecate.
20 In this context, the hymn to Night, h. 3, gains more weight. We saw that the position of this hymn immediately after the one to (Hekate) Prothyraia might resonate not only with Orphic cosmogony as an ordering device of the hymns book, but also with ritual reality. After an exposition of Night’s mythical and real functions, the hymn addresses the specific wish to her: νῦν σε, μάκαιρα, καλῶ, πολυόλβιε, πᾶσι ποθεινή, εὐάντητε, κλύουσα λόγων ἱκετηρίδα φωνήν, ἔλθοις εὐμενέουσα, Φόβους δ’ ἀπόπεμπε νυχαυγεῖς. Now, blessed one, I call upon you, blissful and all-desired one, benign to meet, hearken to my pleading voice and come full of good will, send away the terrors that shine in the night47.
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21 Above, we understood it as one of those prayers that humans in pre-industrial society were addressing to a protective power because they feared that demons and specters were loose in the dark of the night; Christian hymns regularly attest to these terrible fears48. Maybe that is all. But if, in the sequence of rituals that shaped the initiates’ experience, this hymn really marked the beginning of the nocturnal rites, the prayer would acquire additional poignancy: the goddess Night protects the praying initiate, whose voice the text preserves, from the specters that appeared during the mysteries, and that otherwise might be too terrifying to tolerate.
V.
22 In the context of Dionysiac mysteries, such fears seem even more appropriate than in almost any other cultic context, perhaps with the exception of inspired divination. After all, the central experience of the Dionysiac initiates was μανία, ‘frenzy’; and although Dodds coined the description of the ‘blessings of madness’ in the very context of Dionysiac cult, these blessings were very mixed indeed.
23 One of the mythical aitia of the cult of Dionysos makes this explicit. Apollodorus’ Library contains the story how Hera drove young Dionysos mad; “he roamed about Egypt and Syria […] and arrived at Cybela in Phrygia: there, he was purified by Rhea, learned from her the rites of initiation (τελεταί) and received the long robe; then he pressed through Thrace towards India”49. The story goes back to the Europia, an epic poem by the rather shadowy Eumelus whom ancient scholars dated as early as Homer: “Dionysus […] was purified in Kybela in Phrygia by Rhea and received from her the entire ritual outfit”50; in this version, part of the outfit was the golden crater which he then handed over to Thetis. Madness, μανία, is something from which Dionysos has to be healed, and his mysteries are embedded into this process. The story is no secret mystery lore: it is depicted on an altar from the Coan agora, dated to the mid-second century BCE51.
24 The two texts are silent about the exact relationship between mysteries and madness. One reading is that the Dionysiac τελεταί heal madness; that is what the Orpheotelests in Plato promise and with what, according to Orpheus’ hexameters cited by Olympiodorus, Dionysos Lyseus is concerned52. That is also what the hymn to the strange goddess Melinoe, h. 71, asks her to do: the initiates pray to her “to send the soul’s spur to the limits of the earth, showing your sacred face full of benevolence to the initiates”, ψυχῆς ἐκπέμπειν οἶστρον ἐπὶ τέρματα γαίης, εὐμενὲς εὐίερον μύσταις φαίνουσα πρόσωπον. Melinoe is an angry underworld divinity, and she is angry because her step-father, Hades, raped her; in the same way, her grand-mother Demeter had turned into Erinys after Poseidon raped her53. “She drives humans mad with airy ghosts”, as the hymn explicitly asserts. But the goddess is, at the same time, intimately connected with the mysteries of Dionysos: in the myth narrated in her hymn, she is the daughter of Zeus and Persephone and thus the sibling sister of Dionysos himself, according to Orpheus’ version of Dionysos’ genealogy. Given the rarity of myths narrated in the Orphic hymns, this myth must belong to the lore of these Orphic mysteries, and the otherwise unattested divinity belongs firmly into this specific world of a local Dionysiac mystery cult54.
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25 But Dionysiac ritual, βακχεύειν, is in itself μαίνεσθαι. As one of the Hymns puts it, Dionysos dances with the nymphs, driven by madness, ἐλαυνόμενος μανίηισι55: the relationship between the god and madness is more complex than Dodds assumed. The underlying idea seems to be that Dionysos’ μανία is safe, and that it can preserve the initiate from madness which is understood as a disease. If I may use a modern analogy, Dionysiac madness is a sort of vaccination, performed with a real strain of live bacteria, but weaker and controlled; but as any vaccination might contain the danger of a real outbreak of the illness, thus the mysteries of Dionysos contain the danger of real madness – witness the many stories told about the men and women really driven to murderous madness by the god.
26 In this context, both the prayer to Melinoe as well as the several prayers that ask for a benign encounter might gain an additional dimension: the initiates, confronted during their rituals with all these terrible divinities, ask for the absence of the wrong and horrifying side of madness. Although only myths talk about such a fate, such as the stories of Pentheus, Agaue or of the daughters of Proiteus, these stories could always nurture the fear that such a thing might happen during the rites – or, to turn it another way, by evoking these fears, the Orphic Hymns construct their experience as a terrifying one, at least in part. This is not different from the Eleusinian experience: in Plutarch’s well-known description, it progresses from “every terrible thing, panic, trembling, sweat and bewilderment” (τὰ δεινὰ πάντα, φρίκη καὶ τρόμος καὶ ἱδρὼς καὶ θάμβος) to final bliss – or, to cite again Plutarch: an experience where “a marvelous light meets you, pure places and meadows receive you, with voices (i.e. singing), dancing and the splendor of sacred sounds and pure visions”, φῶς τι θαυμάσιον ἀπήντησεν καὶ τόποι καθαροὶ καὶ λειμῶνες ἐδέξαντο, φωνὰς καὶ χορείας καὶ σεμνότητες ἀκουσμάτων ἱερῶν καὶ φασμάτων ἁγίων ἐχοντες; and whoever is initiated marvels and revels, ὀργιάζει56. Lucius’ progress, in Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, from meeting the powers of the underworld to worshipping the gods in the sky follows the same emotional trajectory, and there can be no reasonable doubt that the same held true for the Bacchic mysteries.
VI.
27 One way to protect oneself is prayer, as we hear it in the hymns. Another way is purity; we remember that Jamblichus talks about the evil spirits who hinder those initiates who have not been adequately purified57. Purity is important in the Hymns, but it is rarely expressed beyond the simple use of adjectives such as ἅγιος and καθαρός. But there are some instances that give more. In the hymn to Eros, the initiates pray that the god would meet them with pure thoughts and keep them away from all bad and outlandish drives, φαύλους δ’ ἐκτοπίους θ’ ὁρμάς58. The prayer to Nemesis asks her to give a good mind (διάνοια), put an end to all hateful human thoughts that are unholy, utterly arrogant, and fickle” (δὸς δ’ ἀγαθὴν διάνοιαν ἔχειν, παύουσα πανεχθεῖς γνώμας οὐχ ὁσίας, πανυπέφρονας, ἀλλοπροσάλλας – the sheer stylistic weight of this ending indicates its importance59). These prayers locate the Bacchic association not too far away from the cultic group in Philadelphia whose sacred law extensively talks about purity, not the least sexual purity60. But a passage from another contemporary sacred law of Western Asia Minor is even more relevant; it comes from the hexametrical rules of the association of Dionyos Bromios in Smyrna61. Here too, purity is the overarching
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theme, from rules how to behave in cases of miscarriage and death to the sacrificial taboos on beans and heart. At one point only, the text alludes to the consequences of impurity: purity is important, “lest a cause for wrath arises῞, μὴ δὴ μήνιμα γένηται. This is clear enough for the audience, they know the consequences of divine wrath: one is madness, according to the Phaedrus62.
VII.
28 It is time for a summary. In this paper, I have not tried to show that the Orphic hymns reflect a liturgical reality; after all, Dieterich had already done so. I have however tried to show how the overall arrangement of the hymns in the book follows the progression of the nocturnal ritual; this then has to be added to the other criteria of arrangement that have been analyzed by Dieterich and, recently, by Anne-France Morand. And I have especially tried to show how often the hymns talk about the fear of meeting a divinity or a phasma who would be in an unkind and violent state: such an encounter might drive the initiates into madness. Thus, the initiates construct their experience as an event that is, at least in part, dangerous and frightening. This concern with madness as a possible and negative result of the initiatory experience is just one aspect of the role Bacchic, Orphic initiation played in healing madness sent by evil demons. All this, then, conveys a seriousness to these rites that makes them into something very different from the hobby of some placid burghers. Far from being only the songs that accompanied the tryphé of a bacchic social event, the hymns point to the emotional complexity and seriousness of Bacchic mystery cults.
NOTES
1. On Albrecht Dieterich see R. WÜNSCH, in Albrecht Dieterich. Kleine Schriften, Leipzig and Berlin, 1911, p. XI-XLII; H.D. BETZ, The “Mithras Liturgy.” Text, Translation, and Commentary, Tübingen, 2003, p. 14-26 (with earlier bibliography). 2. A. DIETERICH, De hymnis Orphicis capitula quinque, Marburg, 1891, again in o.c., 70, citing Ch. A. LOBECK, Aglaophamus Sive de Theologiae Mysticae Graecorum Causis Libri Tres, Königsberg, 1829, p. 395: sed potius … haec mihi sententia est has precationum formulas quicunque composuerit nulli certo aut sacrorum aut hominum generi destinasse sed omnibus, qui deorum aliquem propitiaturi essent, quasi verbis praeire voluisse, non quo crederet quenquam his usurum sed animi causa et ut ostenderet quid Orpheus, si voluisset optimam precandi rationem tradere, praecpturus fuisset. 3. A.-F. JACCOTTET, Choisir Dionysos. Les associations dionysiaques ou la face cachée du dionysisme, Zürich, 2003, esp. her index, vol. 2, p. 349. 4. O. KERN, Zu den orphischen Hymnen, Hermes 24 (1889), p. 498-508; id., “Die Herkunft des orphischen Hymnenbuchs,” in Genethliakon für Carl Robert, Berlin, 1910, p. 87-102. 5. G. RICCIARDELLI (ed.), Inni Orfici, Milano, 2000; A.-F. MORAND , Études sur les Hymnes Orphiques, Leiden, 2001; J. RUDHARDT, “Recherches sur les Hymnes orphiques,” in Ph. BORGEAUD and V. PIRENNE- DELFORGE (eds.), Jean Rudhardt: Opera Inedita, Liège, 2008 (Kernos, Suppl. 19), 159-325. Rudhardt
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planned the study to be exhaustive, p. 176: “Nous en [of the Hymns, FG] considérons d’abord la forme; nous étudierons ensuite les croyances auxquelles ils se réfèrent puis les rituels dont il constituent un élément; nous tenterons enfin de comprendre le type de piété qui les inspire.” Of these four parts, only the first two are published and constitute a very thorough analysis of the form and the divine recipients of the Hymns. 6. M.L. WEST, The Orphic Poems, Oxford, 2003, p. 29. 7. JACCOTTET, o.c. (n. 3), vol. 1, p. 161f.; see her index, vol. 2, p. 358 s.v.tryphè. 8. In citing the Hymns, I use h. and the number. My Greek text is a combination of Quandt, Ricciardelli (whom I found the most reliable), and Morand. 9. DIETERICH, o.c. (n. 2), 80. 10. Pap. Derv. col. xiv 6; see also Eudemos, fr. 150 WEHRLI = Orph. fr. 20 I BERNABÉ; W. BURKERT, “Die altorphische Theogonie nach dem Papyrus von Derveni,” in: Kleine Schriften. III: Mystica, Orphica, Pythagorica, ed. F. GRAF, Göttingen, 2006, p. 98-99. 11. See for Dionysus e.g.Eur., Bacchae,236f. and 486; Livy,XXXIX, 13, 8-10. See the remarks of JACCOTTET, o.c. (n. 3), p. 133 and, in her epigraphical material, esp. nos. 19 (a strange ‘midnight banquet with bread’, μεσανύκτιον ἄρτου); 153 ἱερὰ νύξ l. 18 (and the lamps mentioned in l. 7). For Isis, Apuleius even writes about noxsacrata, Met. XI, 21. 12. The texts in F. GRAF and S.I. JOHNSTON,Ritual Texts for the Afterlife. The Bacchic Gold Tablets, London, 2007. See MORAND, o.c. (n. 5), p. 223f. In the Asklepios rites of Pergamon, however, Memory is invoked at the beginning of the incubation night, Altertümer von Pergamon VIII, 3, no. 156: it is crucial to remember ones dream. 13. Hesych.,s.v. 14. MORAND, o.c. (n. 5), p. 142-144 is rather helpless, and so is RICCIARDELLI, o.c. (n. 5), p. 408f. who, however, noted the passage in Hesychius. 15. LIMC, s.v. Dionysos/Bacchus, no. 267. An extensive discussion and good pictures in C. KERÉNYI, Dionysos. Urbild des unzerstörbaren Lebens, Stuttgart, 1994, p. 165-168, with fig. 66a-e. 16. See the analysis by RUDHARDT, o.c. (n. 2), p. 194-207 who notes “nous percevons plus facilement la fin du développement que nous ne situons le début”, p. 206. 17. To do him justice: Lobeck might well have remembered ancient admonitions to selfless prayer starting with Plato, see A. MOTTE, “La prière du philosophe chez Platon,” in H. LIMET and J. RIES (eds.), L’expérience de la prière dans les grandes religions. Actes du Colloque de Louvain-La-Neuve et Liège 1978,Louvain-la-Neuve, 1980(Homo Religiosus, 5), p. 173-204. 18. The only scholar who bothered to think about the term was, not surprisingly perhaps, DIETERICH, o.c. (n. 1), p. 79. 19. LSJ, s.v. 20. Lucian,Tim., 5: ὥσπερ δυσάντητον καὶ ἀποτρόπαιον θέαμα. 21. PGM XIII, 799: οὐ κατισχύσει με ἅπασα σάρξ κινουμένη, οὐκ ἀντιτάξεταί μοι πᾶν πνεῦμα, οὐ δαιμόνιον, οὐ συνάντημα οὐδὲ ἄλλο τι τῶν καθ ῞Αιδου πονηρῶν, διὰ τὸ σὸν ὄνομα. 22. The only passage where it is used for a human is Posidipp., Epigr., 25, 1. A few late authors use it several times, especially Oppian and Cyrill of Alexandria who both extend its usage to animals and things. 23. It might be worthwhile to present the small corpus of epigraphical texts: Attica: 1a. IG II² 4714 (Augustan) ἐπὶ ᾿Επικράτους ἄρχοντος Μεγίστη ᾿Αρχιτίμου Σφητίου θυγάτηρ Μητρὶ θεῶν εὐαντήτῳ ἰατρίν ῃ᾿Αφροδίτη’ ἀνέθηκεν. – 1b. IG II² 4759 (IIp ?) ῞Ιμερτος Μαραθώνιος ὑπὲρ ῞Ιμέρτου Μαραθωνίου Μητρὶ θεῶν εὐαντήτῳ εἰατρείνῃ . – 1c. IG II² 4760 (I/II) Πολυνίκη Μοσχίωνος Φιλάδου γυνὴ Μητρὶ θεῶν εὐαντήτῳ ἰατρείνῃ εὐχήν. Thracia: 2. Nicopolis ad Istrum (Nikjup) IGBulg (Moesia) II, 682, 1 Θεᾷ ἐπηκόῳ εὐαντήτῳ κατὰ ὀνείρου ἐπιταγὴν Λούκιος ᾿Ανδρονείκου ἔθικα.
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Asia Minor: 3a. Kalchedon (Bithynia) IK (Kalchedon) 14 οὔριον ἐκ πρύμνης τις ὁδηγητῆρα καλείτω | Ζῆνα κατὰ προτόνων ἱστίον ἐκπετάσας· | εἴτ’ ἐπὶ Κυανέας δίνας δρόμος, ἔνθα Ποσειδῶν | καμπύλον εἱλίσσει κῦμα παρὰ ψαμάθοις, | εἴτε κατ’ Αἰγαίην πόντου πλάκα νόστον ἐρευναι, | νείσθω τῶιδε βαλὼν ψαιστὰ παρὰ ξοάνωι. | ὧδε τὸν εὐάντητον ἀεὶ θεὸν᾿Αντιπάτρου παῖς στῆσε Φίλων, ἀγαθῆς σύμβολον εὐπλοΐης. – 3b. N.E. Lydia, Kula TAM V, 265 [Θεᾷ – – –] | [– – –]Ι Εὐαντή- [τῳ – – –]ΙΟΣ Ἀπολ|[λ– – –] άσχων κα[–] | [– – –] εὐλογῶ. – 3c. N.W. Lydia, Apollonis: Gökçeköy TAMV, 1185, 1 ᾿Ὰσκληπίδης ᾿Ὰπολ[λ]οδότου Θεᾷͅ Ευαντήτῳ εὐχήν. – 3d. Caria, Aphrodisias; Hellenica ΧΙΙΙ, 285 Ζωτικὸς Εὐαντήτῳ εὐχήν. Egypt: 4a. Kanopos (Abu Qîr), 170-116 BC: SB ΙΙΙ, 6256 ὑπὲρ βασιλέως Πτολεμαίου καὶ βασιλίσσης Κλεοπάτρας, θεῶν Εὐεργετῶν, Μητρὶ θεῶν Εὐαντήτωι Πτολεμαῖος καὶ ̔Ηρακλείδης οἱ Πτολεμαίου υἱοὶ εὐχήν. 24. See also Et. Mag., 338, 37: εὐάντητος· ̔Η ̣̣Ρέα, ἀνταίαν γὰρ αὐτὴν ἐκάλουν. – The same information in Schol. Ap. Rhod. I, 1141, with an allusion to the myth of the Telchines. 25. Hipp., Ref. IV, 35; the final prayer is: Γοργὼ καὶ Μορμὼ καὶ Μήνη καὶ Πολύμορφε, ἔλθοις ευάντητος ἐφ’ ἡμετέρηισι θυηλαῖς; Wilamowitz conjectured: καὶ Μήνη ποικιλόμορφε, which might well be right. 26. In another prayer to Hecate, Apollonius of Rhodes uses the rare cognate εὐαντής, IV, 148; the scholion explains it as τὴν εὐάντητον καὶ εὐεξίλαστον ἢ εὐαπάντητον. A similar paraphrasis of εὐάντητος appears in Et. Mag., 338., 7 and Phot.,Lex.,s.v., E p. 27, 14. 27. h. 41, 10 Meter Antaia: final invocation ἐλθεῖν εὐάντητον ἐπ’ εὐιερῶι σέο μύστηι. – Schol. Ap. Rhod. I, 1141 explains her as Meter-Rhea; see above n. 24. 28. h. 2, 5 Prothyraia κλειδοῦχ’, εὐάντητε, φιλοτρόφε, πᾶσι προσηνής. 29. h. 36, 7 one of her epithets;14 final invocation: ἐλθέ … μύστηισιν ἅπασιν εὐάντητος. 30. Porph., fr. 307 SMITH = Eus.,Praep. V, 5f. 31. h. 31, 7 Kouretes: final invocation ἔλθοιτ’ εὐμενέοντες ἐπ’ εὐφήμοισι λόγοισι, βουκόλωι εὐάντητοι ἀεὶ κεχαρηότι θυμῶι. 32. Poseidon: h. 17, 10; Hygieia: h. 68, 13. 33. Pap. Derv, col. vi 2-7. See G. BETEGH, The Derveni Papyrus. Cosmology, Theology, and Interpretation, Cambridge, 2004, p. 14 and Th. KOUREMENOS, G.M. PARÁSSOGLOU, K. TSANTSANOGLOU (eds.), The Derveni Papyrus Edited with Introduction and Commentary, Florence, 2006, p. 168. 34. h. 37, 7f. – See F. SOKOLOWSKI,Lois sacrées des cités grecques. Supplément, Paris, 1962, no. 115 B 29, with R. PARKER, Miasma. Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion, Oxford, 1983, p. 347; somewhat less close the law from Selinus, M.H. JAMESON, D.R. JORDAN, R.D. KOTANKSY, A Lex Sacra from Selinous, Durham, NC., 1993. 35. S.I. JOHNSTON, Restless Dead. Encounters Between the Living and the Dead in Ancient Greece, Berkeley/ Los Angeles, 1999, passim. – It was E.R. Dodds who most influentially expressed the stereotype; I suspect that it had its tremendous impact especially because it resonated so well with contemporary culture; after all, “the phrase [Age of Anxiety] was coined by my friend W.H. Auden who applied it to our own time”, Pagan and Christian in an Age of Anxiety, Cambridge, 1968, p. 3. 36. I do not enter into a discussion of h. 32, 6 where Athena is said to send madness to humans: it is in her role as divnity of war that she acts this way. 37. h. 39, 10: παύων φαντασίας, ψυχῆς ἐκπλήκτου ἀνάγκας; my translation follows Ricciardelli’s “tormenti dell’anima intimorita.” On Korybantes and psychic disturbances, H. JEANMAIRE, “Le traitement de la mania dans les “mystères” de Dionysos et des Corybantes,” Journal de Psychologie (1949), p. 64-82 and Dionysos. Histoire du culte de Bacchus, Paris, 1951, p. 119-131 (on modern parallels) and 131-138 (on the Corybantic rites); E.R. DODDS, The Greeks and the Irrational, Berkeley, 1951, p. 77-79. Jeanmaire’s paper has been eclipsed by the fame of Dodds’s book, at least in the Anglophone world, quite unjustly so.
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38. The Corybants are not only acolytes of Cybele, they also dance around the child Dionysos on a few images that range from Hellenistic times to late antiquity and that seem to have a connection with Orphic mythology again, see W. BURKERT, “Bacchic Teletai in the Hellenistic Age,” in T. CARPENTER and C.A. FARAONE (eds.), Masks of Dionysus, Ithaca, N.Y., 1993, p. 271, reprinted in Kleine Schriften III (n. 10), p. 130-131. 39. Eumenides, h. 70, 9; Pan h. 11, 23; Melinoe h. 71, 6, 11. See MORAND, o.c. (n. 5), p. 185, on οἶστρος: “Ce terme évoque la folie et la peur”. 40. On cosmic Hecate, see S.I. JOHNSTON, Hekate Soteira. A Study of Hekate’s Roles in the Chaldaean Oracles and Related Literature, Atlanta, 1990, p. 40-42. 41. Apollodoros, FGrHist 244 F 110. 42. ThesCRA II, p. 96 no. 34, with the earlier bibliography; see esp. W. BURKERT, Ancient Mystery Cults, Cambridge, Mass., 1987, p. 94f., with fig. 4. 43. Apul., Met. XI, 23. 44. Main passages Ar., Ran., 293 (with Scholia) and Iamb.,Myst. III, 31, 178, 8-16 DES PLACES; see also Clem., Strom. IV, 1, 3. 45. DEM., Or. 18, 130; the explanation Idomeneus of Lampsacus, FGrHist 338 F 2. 46. See the discussion in Chr. G. BROWN, “Empousa, Dionysus and the Mysteries. Aristophanes, Frogs 285ff.,” CQ 41 (1991), p. 41-51 and JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 35), p. 131-138. 47. h. 3, 12-14. Quandt omits λόγων in 13, following the majority of the mss., and so does Morand; Ricciardelli retains it, follwoing φ, one of her two hyparchetypes. It might wellbe a conjecture in a metrically deficient verse, as R. Keydell assumed, in his review of G. Quandt (ed.), Orphei Hymni, in GGA 204 (1942), p. 78. 48. Beginning with Ambr., Hymn., 10, 5: fuga catervas daemonum, or Prud., Cathem. I, 37-40: ferunt vagantes daemonas laetos tenebris noctium, gallo canente exterritos sparsim timere et cedere. 49. Apoll., Bibl. III, 5, 1 (= III, 33): κακεῖ καθαρθεὶς ὑπὸ Ρέας καὶ τὰς τελετὰς ἐκμαθὼν καὶ λαβὼν παρ’ ἐκείνης τὴν στολὴν. 50. Eumelos, fr. 11 BERNABÉ (= Schol. A Iliad. VI, 131); Schol. Lycophr., 273: λαβὼν πᾶσαν παρὰ τῆς θεᾶς τὴν διασκευήν. 51. Detailed account BURKERT, l.c. (n. 38), 271-274 = KleineSchriften III (n. 10), p. 131-134. 52. OF 232 KERN = fr. 350 BERNABÉ. 53. JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 35), p. 258-264. 54. On Melinoe, see MORAND, o.c. (n. 5), p. 181-188. 55. h. 46, 5; the textual problem of this verse is irrelevant for my argument. 56. Plut., fr. 178 SANDBACH. 57. Iamb., Myst. III, 31 (cp. above n. 44). 58. h. 58, 10 – more than just “gli slanci sconvenienti”, as RICCIARDELLI, o.c. (n. 5), p. 459 comments, this points to more severe restrictions, as MORAND, o.c. (n. 5), p. 218 saw – not necessarily to “l’abstinence sexuelle,” but to sexual ethics such as the mystery law from Philadelphia expresses (see n. 60). 59. h. 61, 11-12. 60. F. SOKOLOWSKI, Lois sacrées de l’Asie mineure, Paris, 1955, no. 20, l. 25-32. 61. SOKOLOWSKI, o.c. (n. 50), no. 84 = JACCOTTET,o.c. (n. 3), no. 126. 62. Plato, Phaedrus, 244d-e.
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ABSTRACTS
In the wake of Albrecht Dieterich, in this paper I try to show how the overall arrangement of the hymns in the Orphic hymn book follows the progression of a nocturnal ritual. I insist on the frequency with which the hymns talk about the fear of meeting a divinity or a phasma that would be in an unkind and violent state and could drive the initiates into madness. Thus, the hymns construct the mystery experience as an event that is, at least in part, dangerous and frightening. This concern with madness as a possible negative result of the initiatory experience is just one aspect of the role Bacchic (“Orphic”) initiation played in healing madness sent by evil demons, and it conveys a seriousness to these rites that makes them into something very different from the hobby of some placid burghers. Far from being only the songs that accompanied the tryphé of a Bacchic social event, the hymns point to the emotional complexity and seriousness of Bacchic mystery cults.
Dans le sillage d’Albrecht Dieterich, cette étude entend montrer comment l’arrangement global des pièces reprises dans le recueil des hymnes orphiques épouse la progression d’un rituel nocturne. On insiste sur la récurrence, dans les hymnes, du motif de la crainte de rencontrer une divinité ou un phasma qui pourrait être malveillant, violent, et frapperait les initiés de folie. Ainsi, les hymnes construisent l’expérience mystérique comme un événement qui est, au moins pour une part, dangereux et effrayant. Ce souci pour la folie comme résultat négatif potentiel de l’expérience initiatique n’est qu’un des aspects du rôle que l’initiation bachique (« orphique ») jouait dans la folie curative envoyée par de mauvais démons, et cela confère du sérieux à ces rituels qui étaient quelque chose de bien différent d’un passe-temps pour petits bourgeois placides. Loin d’être seulement les chants qui accompagnaient la truphê d’un moment de sociabilité bachique, les hymnes renvoient à la complexité émotionnelle et au caractère sérieux des cultes à mystères bachiques.
AUTHOR
FRITZ GRAF The Ohio State University Department of Greek and Latin COLUMBUS, OH 43210-131 [email protected]
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The Golden Bough: Orphic, Eleusinian, and Hellenistic-Jewish Sources of Virgil’s Underworld in Aeneid VI
Jan Bremmer
1 There can be little doubt that the belief in an underworld is very old. In fact, most peoples imagine the dead as going somewhere. Yet they each have their own elaboration of these beliefs, which can run from extremely detailed, as was the case in medieval Christianity, to a rather hazy idea, as was the case, for example, in the Old Testament.1 The early Romans do not seem to have paid much attention to the afterlife. Thus Virgil, when working on his Aeneid, had a problem. How should he describe the underworld where Aeneas was going? To solve this problem, Virgil drew on three important sources, as Eduard Norden argued in his commentary on Aeneid: Homer’s Nekuia, which is by far the most influential intertext in Aeneid VI, 2 and two lost poems about descents into the underworld by Heracles and Orpheus (§ 3). Norden had clearly been fascinated by the publication of the Christian Apocalypse of Peter in 1892,3 but he was not the only one: this intriguing text appeared in, immediately, three (!) editions;4 moreover, it also inspired the still very useful study of the underworld by Albrecht Dieterich.5 A decade later Norden published the first edition of his commentary on Aeneid VI, and he continued working on it until the third edition of 1927.6 His book still impresses by its stupendous erudition, impressive feeling for style, ingenious reconstructions of lost sources and all- encompassing mastery of Greek and Latin literature, medieval apocalypses included. It is, arguably, the finest commentary of the golden age of German Classics.7
2 Norden’s reconstructions of Virgil’s Greek sources for the underworld in Aeneid VI have largely gone unchallenged in the post-war period,8 and the next worthwhile commentary, that by the late Roland Austin,9 clearly did not feel at home in this area. Now the past century has seen a number of new papyri of Greek literature as well as new Orphic texts,10 and, accordingly, a renewed interest in Orphic traditions. 11 Moreover, our understanding of Virgil as a poetic bricoleur or mosaicist, as Nicholas
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Horsfall calls him,12 has much increased in recent decades. 13 It may therefore pay to take a fresh look at Virgil’s underworld and try to determine to what extent these new discoveries enrich and/or correct Norden’s picture. Naturally, space forbids us to present here a detailed commentary on all aspects, and we will limit our comments to those passages where perhaps something new can be contributed. This means that we will especially concentrate on the Orphic, Eleusinian, and Hellenistic-Jewish backgrounds of Aeneas’s descent. Yet a Roman poet hardly can totally avoid his own Roman tradition or the contemporary world, and, in a few instances, we will comment on these aspects as well. As Norden observed, Virgil had divided his picture of the underworld into six parts, and we will follow these in our argument.14
1. The area between the upper world and the Acheron (268-416)
3 Before we start with the underworld proper, we have to note an important verse. At the very moment that Hecate is approaching and the Sibyl and Aeneas will leave her cave to start their entry into the underworld,15 at this emotionally charged moment, the Sibyl calls out: procul, o procul este, profani (258). Austin (ad loc.) just notes: ‘a religious formula’, whereas Norden (on 46, not on 258) only comments: ‘Der Bannruf der Mysterien ἑκὰς ἑκάς’. However, such a cry is not attested for the Mysteries in Greece but occurs only in Callimachus (H. II, 2). In fact, we know that in Eleusis it was not the ‘uninitiated’ but those who could not speak proper Greek or had blood on their hands that were excluded.16 Norden was on the right track, though. The formula alludes almost certainly to the beginning of the, probably, oldest Orphic Theogony, which has now turned up in the Derveni papyrus (Col. VII, 9-10, ed. Kouremenos et al.), but allusions to which can already be found in Pindar (O. II, 83-85), Empedocles (B 3, 4 D-K), who was heavily influenced by the Orphics,17 and Plato (Symp., 218b = OF 19): ‘I will speak to whom it is right to do so: close the doors, you uninitiated’ (OF 1 and 3). 18 A further reference to the Mysteries can probably be found in the poet’s subsequent words sit mihi fas audita loqui (266), as it was forbidden to speak about the content of the Mysteries to the non-initiated.19 The ritual cry, then, is an important signal for our understanding of the text,20 as it suggests the theme of the Orphic Mysteries and indicates that the Sibyl acts as a kind of mystagogue for Aeneas.
4 After a sacrifice to the chthonic powers and a prayer, Aeneas and the Sibyl walk in the ‘loneliness of the night’ (268) to the very beginning of the entrance of the underworld, which is described as in faucibus Orci, ‘in the jaws of Orcus’ (273). The expression is interesting, as these ‘jaws’ as opening of the underworld recur elsewhere in Virgil and other Latin authors.21 From similar passages it has been rightly concluded that the Romans imagined their underworld as a vast hollow space with a comparatively narrow opening. Orcus can hardly be separated from Latin orca, ‘pitcher’, and it seems that we find here an ancient idea of the underworld as an enormous pitcher with a narrow opening.22 This opening must have been proverbial, as in [Seneca’s] Hercules Oetaeus. Alcmene refers to fauces (1772) only as the entry of the underworld.23 All kinds of ‘haunting abstractions’ (Austin), such as War, Illness and avenging Eumenides, live here.24 In its middle there is a dark elm of enormous size, which houses the dreams (282-284).25 The elm is a kind of arbor infelix,26 as it does not bear fruit (Theophr., HP III, 5, 2, already compared by Norden), which partially explains why the poet chose this
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tree, a typical arboreal Einzelgänger, for the underworld. Another reason must be its size, ingens, as the enormous size of the underworld is frequently mentioned in Roman poetry,27 unlike in Greece. In the tree the empty dreams dwell. There is no Greek equivalent for this idea, but Homer (Od. XXIV, 12) also situates the dreams at the beginning of the underworld. In addition, Virgil locates here all kinds of hybrids and monsters, of whom some are also found in the Greek underworld, such as Briareos (Il. I, 403), if not at the entry. Others, though, are just frightening figures from Greek mythology, such as the often closely associated Harpies and Gorgons,28 or hybrids like the Centaurs and Scyllae. According to Norden (p. 216), ‘alles ist griechisch gedacht’, but that is perhaps not quite true. The presence of Geryon (forma tricorporis umbrae: 289) with Persephone in a late fourth-century BC Etruscan tomb as Cerun may well point to at least one Etruscan-Roman tradition.29
5 From this entry, Aeneas and the Sibyl proceed along a road to the river that is clearly the real border of the underworld. In passing, we note here a certain tension between the Roman idea of fauces and the Greek conception of the underworld separated from the upper world by rivers. Virgil keeps the traditional names of the rivers as known from Homer’s underworld, such as Acheron, Cocytus, Styx,30 and Pyriphlegethon,31 but, in his usual manner, changes their mutual relationship and importance. Not surprisingly, we also find there the ferryman of the dead, Charon (298-304). Such a ferryman is a traditional feature of many underworlds,32 but in Greece Charon is mentioned first in the late archaic or early classical Greek epic Minyas (fr. 1 Davies – Bernabé).33 The growing monetization of Athens also affected belief in the ferryman, and the custom of burying a deceased with an obol, a small coin, for Charon becomes visible on Athenian vases in the late fifth century, just as it is mentioned first in literature in Aristophanes’ Frogs (137-142, 269-270) of 405 BC.34 Austin (ad loc.) thinks of a picture in the background of Virgil’s description, as is perhaps possible. The date of Charon’s emergence probably precludes his appearance in the poem on Heracles’ descent (§ 3),35 but influence of the poem on Orpheus’ descent (§ 3) does not seem impossible.
6 Finally, on the bank of the river, Aeneas sees a number of souls and he asks the Sibyl who they are (318-320). The Sibyl, thus, is his ‘travel guide’. Such a guide is not a fixed figure in Orphic descriptions of the underworld, but a recurring feature of Judeo- Christian tours of hell and going back to 1 Enoch,which can be dated to before 200 BC but is probably not older than the third century.36 This was already seen, and noted for Virgil, by Ludwig Radermacher, who had collaborated on an edition with translation of 1 Enoch.37 Moreover, another formal marker in Judeo-Christian tours of hell is that the visionary often asks: ‘who are these?’, and is answered by the guide of the vision with ‘these are those who…’, a phenomenon that can equally be traced back to Enoch’s cosmic tour in 1 Enoch.38 Now these demonstrative pronouns also seem to occur in the Aeneid, as Aeneas’ questions at 318-320 and 560-561 can be seen as rhetorical variations on the question ‘who are these?’, and the Sibyl’s replies, 322-30 contains haec (twice), ille, hi.39 In other words, Virgil seems to have used a Hellenistic-Jewish apocalyptic tradition to shape his narrative,40 and he may even have used some Hellenistic-Jewish motifs, as we will see shortly.
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2. Between the Acheron and Tartarus/Elysium (417-547)
7 Leaving aside Aeneas’ encounter with different souls (333-383) and with Charon (384-416), we continue our journey on the other side of the Styx. Here Aeneas and the Sibyl are immediately ‘welcomed’ by Cerberus (417-425), who first occurs in Hesiod’s Theogony (769-773), but must be a very old feature of the underworld, as a dog already guards the road to the underworld in ancient Indian, Persian and Nordic mythology.41 After he has been drugged, Aeneas proceeds and hears the sounds of a number of souls (426-429). Babies are the first category mentioned. The expression ab ubere raptos (428) suggests infanticide, whereas abortion is condemned in the Bologna papyrus (OF 717, 1-4), a katabasis in a third- or fourth-century papyrus from Bologna, the text of which seems to date from early imperial times and is generally accepted to be Orphic in character.42 This papyrus, as has often been seen, contains several close parallels to Virgil, and both must have used the same identifiably Orphic source.43 Now ‘blanket condemnation of abortion and infanticide reflects a Jewish or Christian moral perspective’. As we have already noted Jewish influence (§ 1), we may perhaps assume it here too, as ‘abortion/infanticide in fact occurs almost exclusively in Christian tours of hell’.44 And indeed, Setaioli has persuasively argued that the origin of the Bologna papyrus has to be looked for in Alexandria in a milieu that underwent Jewish influences, even if much of the text is of course not Egyptian-Jewish.45 We may add that the so-called Testament of Orpheus is a Jewish-Egyptian revision of an Orphic poem and thus clear proof of the influence of Orphism on Egyptian (Alexandrian?) Judaism.46 Yet some of the Orphic material of Virgil’s and the papyrus’ source must be older than the Hellenistic period, as we will see shortly.
8 After the babies we hear of those who were condemned innocently (430), suicides (434-436),47 famous mythological women such as Euadne, Laodamia (447),48 and, hardly surprisingly, Dido, Aeneas’ abandoned beloved (450-476). In this way Virgil follows the traditional Greek combination of ahôroi and biaiothanatoi.49 The last category that Aeneas and the Sibyl meet at the furthest point of this region between the Acheron and the Tartarus/Elysium are famous war heroes (477-547). When we compare these categories with Virgil’s intertext, Odysseus’ meeting with ghosts in the Odyssey (XI, 37-41), we note that before crossing Acheron Aeneas first meets the souls of those recently departed and those unburied, just as in Homer Odysseus first meets the unburied Elpenor (51). The last category enumerated in Homer are the warriors, who here too appear last. Thus, Homeric inspiration is clear, even though Virgil greatly elaborates his model, not least with material taken from Orphic katabaseis.50
3. Tartarus (548-627)
9 While talking, the Sibyl and Aeneas reach a fork in the road, where the right-hand way leads to Elysium, but the left one to Tartarus (541-543). The fork and the preference for the right are standard elements in Plato’s eschatological myths, which suggests a traditional motif.51 Once again, we are led to the Orphic milieu, as the Orphic Gold Leaves regularly instruct the soul ‘go to the right’ or ‘bear to the right’ after its arrival in the underworld,52 thus varying Pythagorean usage for the upper world. 53 Virgil’s description of Tartarus is mostly taken from Odyssey Book XI, but the picture is
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complemented by references to other descriptions of Tartarus and to contemporary Roman villas. What do our visitors see? Under a rock there are buildings (moenia),54 encircled by a threefold wall (548-549). The idea of the mansion is perhaps inspired by the Homeric expression ‘house of Hades’, which must be very old as it has Hittite, Indian and Irish parallels,55 but in the oldest Orphic Gold Leaf, the one from Hipponion, the soul also has to travel to the ‘well-built house of Hades’.56 On the other hand, Hesiod’s description of the entry of Tartarus as surrounded three times by night (Th., 726-727) seems to be the source of the threefold wall.57 Around Tartarus there flows the river Phlegethon (551), which comes straight from the Odyssey (X, 513), where, however, despite the name Pyriphlegethon, the fiery character is not thematized. In fact, fire only gradually became important in ancient underworlds through the influence of Jewish apocalypses.58 The size of the Tartarus is again stressed by the mention of an ingens gate that is strengthened by columns of adamant (552), the legendary, hardest metal of antiquity,59 and the use of special metal in the architecture of the Tartarus is also mentioned in the Iliad (VIII, 15: ‘iron gates and bronze threshold’) and Hesiod (Th., 726: ‘bronze fence’).
10 Finally, there is a tall iron tower (554), which according to Norden and Austin (ad loc.) is inspired by the Pindaric ‘tower of Kronos’ (O. II, 70). However, although Kronos was traditionally locked up in Tartarus,60 Pindar situates his tower on one of the Isles of the Blessed. As the tower is also not associated with Kronos here, Pindar, whose influence on Virgil was not very profound,61 will hardly be its source. Given that the Tartarus is depicted like some kind of building with a gate, vestibulum and threshold (575), it is perhaps better to think of the towers that sometimes formed part of Roman villas.62 The turris aenea in which Danae is locked up according to Horace (C. III, 1, 1) may be another example, as before Virgil she is always locked up in a bronze chamber (Nisbet and Rudd ad loc.).
11 Traditionally, Tartarus was the deepest part of the Greek underworld,63 and this is also the case in Virgil. Here, according to the Sibyl, we find the famous sinners of Greek mythology, especially those that revolted against the gods, such as the Titans (580), the sons of Aloeus (582), Salmoneus (585-594) and Tityos (595-600).64 However, Virgil concentrates not on the most famous cases but on some of the lesser-known ones, such as the myth of Salmoneus, the king of Elis, who pretended to be Zeus. His description is closely inspired by Hesiod, who in turn is followed by later authors, although these seem to have some additional details.65 Salmoneus drove around on a chariot with four horses, while brandishing a torch and rattling bronze cauldrons on dried hides,66 pretending to be Zeus with his thunder and lightning, and wanting to be worshipped like Zeus. However, Zeus flung him headlong into Tartarus and destroyed his whole town.67 With 9 lines Salmoneus clearly is the focus of this catalogue, as the penalty of Tityos, an alumnus, ‘foster son’,68 of Terra, ‘Earth’ (595), is related in 6 lines, and other famous sinners, such as the Lapiths, Ixion,69 and Peirithous (601), are mentioned only in passing. It is rather striking, then, that Virgil spends such great length on Salmoneus, but the reason for this attention remains obscure.
12 Moreover, the latter sinners are connected with penalties, an overhanging rock and a feast that cannot be tasted (602-6), which in Greek mythology are normally connected with Tantalus.70 We find the same ‘dissociation’ of traditional sinners and penalties in the Christian Apocalypse of Peter:71 Evidently, in the course of the time, specific punishments stopped being linked to specific sinners.72 Finally, it is noteworthy that
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the furniture of the feast with its golden beds (604) points to the luxury-loving rulers of the East rather than to contemporary Roman magnates.73
13 After these mythological exempla there follow a series of mortal sinners against the family and familia (608-613), then a brief list of their punishments (614-617), and then more sinners, mythological and historical (618-624).74 In the Bologna papyrus, we find a list of sinners (OF 717, 1-24), then the Erinyes and Harpies as agents of their punishments (25-46), and subsequently again sinners (47ff.). Both Virgil and the papyrus must therefore go back here to their older source (§ 2), which seems to have contained separate catalogues of nameless sinners and their punishments. But what is this source and when was it composed?
14 Here we run into highly contested territory. As we noted in our introduction, Norden identified three katabaseis as important sources for Virgil, the ones by Odysseus in the Homeric Nekuia, by Heracles,75 and by Orpheus.76 Unfortunately, he did not date the last two katabaseis, but thanks to subsequent findings of papyri we can make some progress here. On the basis of a probable fragment of Pindar (fr. dub. 346 Maehler), Bacchylides, Aristophanes’ Frogs,77 and the second-century mythological handbook of Apollodorus (II, 5, 12), Hugh Lloyd-Jones has reconstructed an epic katabasis of Heracles, in which he was initiated by Eumolpus in Eleusis before starting his descent at Laconian Taenarum. 78 Lloyd-Jones dated this poem to the middle of the sixth century, and the date is now supported by a shard in the manner of Exekias of about 540 BC that shows Heracles amidst Eleusinian gods and heroes.79 The Eleusinian initiation makes Eleusinian or Athenian influence not implausible, but as Robert Parker comments: ‘Once the (Eleusinian) cult had achieved fame, a hero could be sent to Eleusis by a non-Eleusinian poet, as to Delphi by a non-Delphian’.80 However, as we will see in a moment, Athenian influence on the epic is certainly likely.81 Given the date of this epic we would still expect its main emphasis to be on the more heroic inhabitants of the underworld, rather than the nameless categories we find in Orphic poetry. And in fact, in none of our literary sources for Heracles’ descent do we find any reference to nameless humans or initiates seen by him in the underworld, but we hear of his meeting with Meleager and his liberation of Theseus (see below).82 Given the prominence of nameless, human sinners in this part of Virgil’s text, then, the main influence seems to be the katabasis of Orpheus rather than the one of Heracles.
15 There is another argument as well to suppose here use of the katabasis of Orpheus. Norden noted that both Rhadamanthys (566) and Tisiphone (571) recur in Lucian’s Cataplus (22-23) in an Eleusinian context;83 similarly, he observed that the question of the Sibyl to Musaeus about Anchises (669-670) can be paralleled by the question of the Aristophanic Dionysos to the Eleusinian initiated where Pluto lives (Frogs 161ff, 431ff). Norden ascribed the first case to the katabasis of Orpheus and the second one to that of Heracles.84 His first case seems unassailable, as the passage about Tisiphone has strong connections with that of the Bologna papyrus (OF 717, 28), as do the sounds of groansand floggings heard by Aeneas and the Sibyl (557-558, cf. OF 717, 25; Luc., VH., 2, 29). Musaeus, however, is mentioned first in connection with Onomacritus’ forgery of his oracles in the late sixth century and remained associated with oracles by Herodotus, Sophocles and even Aristophanes in the Frogs.85 His connection with Eleusis does not appear on vases before the end of the fifth century and in texts before Plato.86 In other words, it seems likely that both these passages ultimately derive from the katabasis of Orpheus, and that Aristophanes, like Virgil, had made use of both the katabaseis of
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Heracles and Orpheus. To make things even more complicated, the fact that both Heracles and Orpheus descended at Laconian Taenarum (above and below) shows that the author himself of Orpheus’ katabasis also (occasionally? often?) has used the epic of Heracles’ katabasis.87
16 Now in Greek and Latin poetry, Orpheus’ descent into the underworld is always connected to his love for Eurydice.88 In fact, Orpheus himself tells us in the beginning of the Orphic Argonautica in the first person singular: ‘I told you what I saw and perceived when I went down the dark road of Taenarum into Hades, trusting in our lyre,89 out of love for my wife’.90 Norden already noted the close correspondence with the line that opens the katabasis of Orpheus in Virgil’s Georgica, Taenarias etiam fauces, alta ostia Ditis, / … ingressus (IV, 467-469), and persuasively concluded that both lines go back to the Descent of Orpheus.91 We may perhaps add that the name of Eurydice appears pretty late in Virgil’s version (486, 490). This late mention may well have been influenced by the fact that the original poem does not seem to have contained the actual name of Orpheus’ wife, which does not appear in our sources before Hermesianax; in fact, the name Eurydice became popular only after the rise to prominence of Macedonian queens and princesses of that name.92 As references to the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice do not start before Euripides’ Alcestis (357-362) of 438 BC, a red-figure loutrophoros from 440-430 BC,93 and the decorated reliefs of, probably, the altar of the Twelve Gods in the Athenian Agora, dating from about 410 BC,94 the poem about Orpheus’ katabasis that was used by Virgil probably dates from the middle of the fifth century BC.
17 But by whom was the katabasis of Orpheus written? In fact, there were several Descents in circulation, as we know. The third-century BC poet Sotades wrote a Descent into Hades (Suda s.v. Σωτάδης), as did the unknown Prodikos from Samos (Clem. Alex., Strom. I, 21, 131, 3 = OF 707, 1124) and Herodikos from Perinthos (Suda, s.v. Ὀρφεύς = OF 709, 1123).95 More interestingly, Epigenes, who may well have been a pupil of Socrates,96 mentions a Descent into Hades by a Pythagorean Cercops in his On the Poetry of Orpheus (Clem. Alex., Strom. I, 21, 131, 3 = OF 707, 1101, 1128), but the most interesting example surely is the Descent into Hades ascribed to Orpheus from Sicilian Camarina (Suda, s.v. Ὀρφεύς = OF 708, 870, 1103). He seems to be a fictitious person, as Martin West has noted,97 but the mention is remarkable. Surely, the author of this Descent owed his name to the fact that he told his descent in the first person singular (above). Was he perhaps the ‘ingenious mythologist, presumably a Sicilian or Italian’, to whom Plato’s Socrates described punishments for the souls of the non-initiated after death (Grg., 493a)? As Camarina was a town with close ties to Athens,98 it is not wholly impossible that one of its inhabitants was the author of the katabasis of Orpheus. Yet at the present state of our knowledge we simply cannot tell.
18 We have one more indication left for the place of origin of the Heracles epic. After the nameless sinners we now see more famous mythological ones. Theseus, as Virgil stresses, sedet aeternumque sedebit (617). The passage deserves more attention than it has received in the commentaries. In the Odyssey, Theseus and Pirithous are the last heroes seen by Odysseus in the underworld, just as in Virgil Aeneas and the Sibyl see Theseus last in Tartarus, even though Pirithous has been replaced by Phlegyas. Now originally Theseus and Pirithous were condemned to an eternal stay in the underworld, either fettered or grown to a rock. This is not only the picture in the Odyssey, but seemingly also in the late-archaic Minyas (Paus., X, 28, 2, cf. fr. dub. 7 Bernabé = Hes., fr.
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280 M-W), and certainly so on Polygnotos’ painting in the Cnidian lesche (Paus., X, 29, 9) and in Panyassis (fr. 9 Davies = fr. 14 Bernabé). This clearly is the older situation, which is still referred to in the hypothesis of Critias’ Pirithous (cf. fr. 6 Snell-Kannicht). The situation must have changed through the katabasis of Heracles, in which Heracles liberated Theseus but, at least in some sources, left Pirithous where he was.99 This liberation is most likely another testimony for an Athenian connection of the katabasis of Heracles, as Theseus was Athens’ national hero. The connection of Heracles, Eleusis and Theseus points to the time of the Pisistratids, although we cannot be much more precise than we have already been (above). In any case, the stress by Virgil on Theseus’ eternal imprisonment in the underworld shows that he sometimes also opted for a version different from the katabaseis he in general followed.100
19 Rather striking is the combination of the famous Theseus with the obscure Phlegyas (618),101 who warns everybody to be just and not to scorn the gods. 102 Norden unconvincingly tries to reconstruct Delphic influence here, but also, and perhaps rightly, posits Orphic origins.103 His oldest testimony is Pindar’s Second Pythian Ode (21-4) where Ixion warns people in the underworld. Now Strabo (IX, 5, 21) calls Phlegyas the brother of Ixion,104 whereas Servius (ad loc.) calls him Ixion’s father. Can it be that this relationship plays a role in thiswonderful confusion of sources, relationships, crimes and punishments?We will probably never know, as Virgil often selects and alters at random!
4. The Palace and the Bough (628-636)
20 However this may be, after another series of nameless human sinners,105 among whom the sin of incest (623) is clearly shared with the Bologna papyrus (OF 717, 5-10), 106 the Sibyl urges Aeneas on and points to the mansion of the rulers of the underworld, which is built by the Cyclopes (630-631: Cyclopum educta caminis moenia). Norden calls the idea of an iron building ‘singulär’ (p. 294), but it fits other descriptions of the underworld as containing iron or bronze elements (§ 3). Austin (ad loc.) compares Callimachus, H. III, 60-61 for the Cyclopes as smiths using bronze or iron, but it has escaped him that Virgil combines here two traditional activities of the Cyclopes. On the one hand, they are smiths and as such forged Zeus’ thunder, flash and lightning-bolt, a helmet of invisibility for Hades, the trident for Poseidon and a shield for Aeneas (Aen. VIII, 447).107 Consequently, they were known as the inventors of weapons in bronze and the first to make weapons in the Euboean cave Teuchion.108 On the other hand, early traditions also ascribed imposing constructions to the Cyclopes, such as the walls of Mycene and Tiryns, and as builders they remained famous all through antiquity.109 Iron buildings thus perfectly fit the Cyclopes.
21 In front of the threshold of the building, Aeneas sprinkles himself with fresh water and fixes the Golden Bough to the lintel above the entrance. Norden (p. 164) and Austin (ad loc.) understand the expression ramumque adverso in limine figit (635-636) as the laying of the bough on the threshold, but figit seems to fit the lintel better. 110 One may wonder from where Aeneas suddenly got his water. Had he carried it with him all along? Macrobius (Sat. III, 1, 6) tells us that washing was necessary when performing religious rites for the heavenly gods, but that a sprinkling was enough for those of the underworld. There certainly is some truth in this observation. However, as the chthonian gods were especially important during magical rites, it is not surprising that
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people did not go to a public bath first. It is thus a matter of convenience rather than principle.111 But to properly understand its function here, we should look at the Golden Bough first.112
22 The Sibyl had told Aeneas to find the Golden Bough and to give it to Proserpina as ‘her due tribute’ (142-143, tr. Austin ad loc.). The meaning of the Golden Bough has gradually become clearer. Whereas Norden rightly rejected the interpretation of Frazer’s Golden Bough,113 he clearly was still influenced by his Zeitgeist with its fascination with fertility and death and thus spent too much attention on the comparison of the Bough with mistletoe.114 Yet by pointing to the Mysteries (below) he already came close to an important aspect of the Bough.115 Combining three recent analyses, which have all contributed to a better understanding, we can summarize our present knowledge as follows.116 When searching for the Bough, Aeneas is guided by two doves, the birds of his mother Aphrodite (193). The motif of birds leading the way derives from colonisation legends, as Norden (p. 173-174) and Horsfall have noted, and the fact that there are two of them may well have been influenced by the age-old traditions of two leaders of colonising groups.117 The doves, as Nelis has argued, can be paralleled with the dove that led the Argonauts through the Clashing Rocks in Apollonius of Rhodes’ epic (II, 238-240, 561-573; note also III, 541-554). Moreover, as Nelis notes, the Golden Bough is part of an oak tree (209), just like the Golden Fleece (Arg. II, 1270; IV, 162), both are located in a gloomy forest (VI, 208 and Arg. IV, 166) and both shine in the darkness (VI, 204-207 and Arg. IV, 125-126). In other words, it seems a plausible idea that Virgil also had the Golden Fleece in mind when composing this episode.
23 However, the Argonautic epic does not contain a Golden Bough. For that we have to look elsewhere. In a too long neglected article Agnes Michels pointed out that in the introductory poem to his Garland Meleager mentions ‘the ever golden branch of divine Plato shining all round with virtue’ (Anth. Pal. IV, 1, 47-48 = Meleager, 3972-3 Gow-Page, tr. West).118 Virgil certainly knew Meleager, as Horsfall notes, who he also observes that the allusion to Plato prepares us for the use Virgil makes of Plato’s eschatological myths in his description of the underworld, those of the Phaedo, Gorgias and Er in the Republic.
24 However, there is another, even more important bough. Servius tells us that ‘those who have written about the rites of Proserpina’ assert that there is quiddam mysticum about the bough and that people could not participate in the rites of Proserpina unless they carried a bough.119 Now we know that the future initiates of Eleusis carried a kind of pilgrim’s staff consisting of a single branch of myrtle or several held together by rings. 120 In other words, by carrying the bough and offering it to Proserpina, queen of the underworld, Aeneas also acts as an Eleusinian initiate,121 who of course had to bathe before initiation.122 Virgil will have written this all with one eye on Augustus, who was an initiate himself of the Eleusinian Mysteries.123 Yet it seems equally important that Heracles too had to be initiated into the Eleusinian Mysteries before entering the underworld (§ 3). In the end, the Golden Bough is also an oblique reference to that elusive epic, the Descent of Heracles.
5. Elysium (637-678)
25 Having offered the Bough to Proserpina, Aeneas and the Sibyl can enter Elysium, where they now come to locos laetos, ‘joyful places’ (cf. 744: laeta arva) of fortunatorum nemorum,
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‘woods of the blessed’ (638).124 The stress on joy is rather striking, but on a fourth- century BC Orphic Gold Leaf from Thurii we read: ‘“Rejoice, rejoice” (Χαῖρ<ε>, χαῖρε). Journey on the right-hand road to holy meadows and groves of Persephone’.125 Moreover, we find joy also in Jewish prophecies of the Golden Age, which certainly overlap in their motifs with life in Elysium.126 Once again Virgil’s description taps Orphic poetry, as lux perpetua (640-641) is also a typically Orphic motif, which we already find in Pindar and which surely must have had a place in the katabasis of Orpheus, just as the gymnastic activities, dancing and singing (642-644) almost certainly come from the same source(s),127 even though Augustus must have been pleased with the athletics which he encouraged.128 The Orphic character of these lines is confirmed by the mention of the Threicius sacerdos (645), obviously Orpheus himself.
26 After this general view, we are told about the individual inhabitants of Elysium, starting with genus antiquum Teucri (648), which recalls, as Austin (ad loc.) well saw, genus antiquum Terrae, Titania pubes (580),129 opening the list of sinners in Tartarus. It is a wonderfully peaceful spectacle that we see through the eyes of Aeneas. Some of the heroes are even vescentis, ‘picnicking’ (Austin), on the grass, and we may wonder if this is not also a reference to the Orphic ‘symposium of the just’, as that also takes place on a meadow.130 Its importance was already known from Orphic literary descriptions, 131 but a meadow in the underworld has now also emerged on the Orphic Gold Leaves.132
27 The description of the landscape is concluded with the picture of the river Eridanus that flows from a forest, smelling of laurels.133 Neither Norden nor Austin explains the presence of the laurels. Virgil’s first readership will have had several associations with these trees. Some may have remembered that the laurel was the highest level of reincarnation among plants in Empedocles (B 127 D-K; note also B 140), and others will have realised the poetic and Apolline connotations of the laurel.134
28 The Eridanus flows superne and plurimus, ‘in all its strength’ (658-659). What does this mean? Norden, somewhat hesitantly followed by Austin (ad loc.), follows Servius and interprets superne as ‘to the upper world’ instead of its normal usage ‘from above’. But this is a very rare usage of the word and also the type of information that seems out of place here. I would therefore like to point to a striking passage in 1 Enoch, the book that also has given us the prototypical tour of hell with a guide. Here, in his journey to Paradise, Enoch sees ‘a wilderness and it was solitary, full of trees and seeds. And there was a stream on top of it, and it gushed forth from above it (my italics). It appeared like a waterfall which cascaded greatly (plurimus!) …’ (28, 3, tr. Charlesworth). Is it going too far to see Jewish influence on Virgil’s Eridanus?
29 After Trojan and nameless Roman heroes (648-660), priests (661) and poets (662), Aeneas and the Sibyl also see ‘those who found out knowledge and used it for the betterment of life’ (663: inventas aut qui vitam excoluere per artis, tr. Austin). As has long been seen, this line closely corresponds to a line from a cultural-historical passage in the Bologna papyrus where we find an enumeration of five groups in Elysium that have made life livable. The first are mentioned in general as those ‘who embellished life with their skills’ (αἱ δε βίον σ[οφί]ῃσιν ἐκόσμεον = OF 717, 103), to be followed by the poets, ‘those who cut roots’ for medicinal purposes, and two more groups which we cannot identify because of the bad state of the papyrus. Now inventions that both better life and bring culture are typically a sophistic theme, and the mention of the archaic ‘root cutters’ instead of the more modern ‘doctors’ suggests an older stage in the sophistic movement.135 The convergence between Virgil and the Bologna papyrus suggests that
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we have here a category of people seen by Orpheus in his katabasis. However, as Virgil sometimes comes very close to the list of sinners in Aristophanes’ Frogs, both poets must, directly or indirectly, go back to a common source from the fifth century,136 as must, by implication, the Bologna papyrus. This Orphic source apparently was influenced by the cultural theories of the sophists. Now the poets occur in Aristophanes’ Frogs (1032-34) too in a passage that is heavily influenced by the cultural theories of the sophists, a passage that Fritz Graf connected with Orphic influence.137 Are we going too far when we see here also the shadow of Orpheus’ katabasis?
30 Having seen part of the inhabitants of Elysium, the Sibyl now asks Musaeus where Anchises is (666-678). Norden (p. 300) persuasively compares the question of Dionysus to the Eleusinian initiates where Pluto lives in Aristophanes’ Frogs (431-433). 138 In support of his argument Norden observes that normally the Sibyl is omniscient, but only here asks for advice, which suggests a different source rather than an intentional poetic variation. Naturally, he infers from the comparison that both go back to the katabasis of Heracles. In line with our investigation so far, however, we rather ascribe the question to Orpheus’ katabasis, given the later prominence of Musaeus and the meeting with Eleusinian initiates. Highly interesting is also another observation by Norden. He notes that Musaeus shows them the valley where Anchises lives from a height (678: desuper ostentat) and compares a number of Greek, Roman and Christian Apocalypses. Yet his comparison confuses two different motifs, even though they are related. In the cases of Plato’s Republic (X, 615d, 616b) and Timaeus (41e) as well as Cicero’s Somnium Scipionis (Rep. VI, 11) souls see the other world, but they do not have a proper tour of hell (or heaven) in which a supernatural person (Musaeus, God, [arch]angel, Devil) provides a view from a height or a mountain. That is what we find in 1 Enoch (17-18), Matthew (4.8), Revelation (21.10) and the heavily Jewish influenced Apocalypse of Peter (15-16). In other words, it is hard to escape the conclusion that Virgil draws here too, directly or indirectly, on Jewish sources.
6. Anchises and the Heldenschau (679-887)
31 With this quest for Anchises we have reached the climax of book VI. It would take us much too far to present a detailed analysis of these lines but, in line with our investigation, we will concentrate on Orphic and Orphic-related (Orphoid?) sources.
32 Aeneas meets his father, when the latter has just finished reviewing the souls of his line who are destined to ascend ‘to the upper light’ (679-83). They are in a valley, of which the secluded character is heavily stressed,139 while the river Lethe gently streams through the woods (705). It is rather remarkable that the Romans paid much more attention to this river than the Greeks, who mentioned Lethe only rarely and in older times hardly ever explicitly as a river.140 Here those souls that are to be reincarnated drink the water of forgetfulness. After Aeneas wondered why some would want to return to the upper world, Anchises launched into a detailed Stoic cosmology and anthropology (724-733) before we again find Orphic material: the soul locked up in the body as in a prison (734), which Vergil derived almost certainly straight from Plato, just like the idea of engrafted (738, 746: concreta) evil.141
33 The penalties the souls have to suffer to become pure (739-743) may well derive from an Orphic source too, as the Bologna papyrus mentions clouds and hail, but it is too fragmentary to be of any use here.142 On the other hand, the idea that the souls have to
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pay a penalty for their deeds in the upper world twice occurs in the Orphic Gold Leaves. 143 Orphic is also the idea of the cycle (rota) through which the souls have to pass during their Orphic reincarnation.144 But why does the cycle last a thousand years before the souls can come back to life: mille rotam volvere per annos (748)? Unfortunately, we are badly informed by the relevant authors about the precise length of the reincarnation. Empedocles mentions ‘thrice ten thousand seasons’ (B 115 D-K) and Plato (Phaedr., 249a) mentions ‘ten thousand years’ and, for a philosophical life, ‘three times thousand years’, but the myth of Er mentions a period of thousand years.145 This will be Virgil’s source here, as also the idea that the souls have to drink from the river Lethe is directly inspired by the myth of Er where the souls that have drunk from the River of Forgetfulness forget about their stay in the other world before returning to earth (Resp. X, 621a).
34 It will hardly be chance that with the references to the end of the myth of Er, we have also reached the end of the main description of the underworld. In the following Heldenschau, we find only one more intriguing reference to the eschatological beliefs of Virgil’s time. At the end, father and son wander ‘in the wide fields of air’ (887: aëris in campis latis), surveying everything. In one of his characteristically wide-ranging and incisive discussions, Norden argued that Virgil alludes here to the belief that the souls ascend to the moon as their final abode. This belief is as old, as Norden argues, as the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, where we already find ‘die Identifikation der Mondgöttin Hekate mit Hekate als Königin der Geister und des Hades’.146 However, it must be objected that ‘verifiable associations between the two (i.e. Hecate and the moon) do not survive from earlier than the first century A.D’.147 Moreover, the identification of the moon with Hades, the Elysian Fields or the Isles of the Blessed is relatively late. It is only in the fourth century BC that we start to find this tradition among pupils of Plato, such as, probably, Xenocrates, Crantor and Heraclides Ponticus, who clearly wanted to elaborate their Master’s eschatological teachings in this respect.148 Consequently, the reference does indeed allude to the souls’ ascent to the moon, but not to the ‘orphisch- pythagoreische Theologie’ (Norden, p. 24). In fact, it is clearly part of the Platonic framework of Virgil.149
35 It is rather striking that in the same century Plato is the first to mention Selene as the mother of the Eleusinian Musaeus.150 It is hard to accept, though, that he would have been the inventor of the idea, which must have been established in the late fifth century BC.151 Did the officials of the Eleusinian Mysteries want to keep up with contemporary eschatological developments, which increasingly stressed that the soul went up into the aether, not down into the subterranean Hades?152 We do not have enough material to trace exactly the initial developments of the idea, but in the later first century AD it was already popular enough for Antonius Diogenes to parody the belief in his Wonders Beyond Thule, a parody taken to even greater length by Lucian in his True Histories.153 Virgil’s allusion, therefore, must have been clear to his contemporaries.
7. Conclusions
36 When we now look back, we can see that Virgil has divided his underworld into several compartments. His division contaminates Homer with later developments. In Homer virtually everybody goes to Hades, of which the Tartarus is the deepest part, reserved
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for the greatest sinners, the Titans (Il. XIV, 279). A few special heroes, such as Menelaus and Rhadamanthys, go to a separate place, the Elysian Fields, which is mentioned only once in Homer.154 This idea of a special place for select people, which resembles the Hesiodic Isles of the Blessed (Op., 167-173), must have looked attractive to a number of people when the afterlife became more important. However, the idea of reincarnation soon posed a special problem. Where did those stay who had completed their cycle (§ 6) and those who were still in process of doing so? It can now be seen that Virgil follows a traditional Orphic solution in this respect, a solution that had progressed beyond Homer in that moral criteria had become important.155
37 In his Second Olympian Ode Pindar pictures a tripartite afterlife in which the sinners are sentenced by a judge below the earth to endure terrible pains (57-60, 67), those who are good men spend a pleasant time with the gods (61-67) and those who have completed the cycle of reincarnation and have led a blameless life will join the heroes on the Isles of the Blessed (68-80).156 A tripartite structure can also be noticed in Empedocles, who speaks about the place where the great sinners are (B 118-21 D-K),157 a place for those who are in the process of purificaton (B 115 D-K),158 and a place for those who have led a virtuous life on earth: they will join the tables of the gods (B 147-8 D-K). The same division between the effects of a good and a bad life appears in Plato’s Jenseitsmythen. In the Republic (X, 616a) the serious sinners are hurled into Tartarus, as they are in the Phaedo (113d-114c), where the less serious ones may be still saved, whereas ‘those who seem [to have lived] exceptionally into the direction of living virtuously’ (tr. C.J. Rowe) pass upward to ‘a pure abode’. But those who have purified themselves sufficiently with philosophy will reach an area ‘even more beautiful’, presumably that of the gods (cf. 82b10-c1). The upward movement for the elite, pure souls, also occurs in the Phaedrus (248-249) and the Republic (X, 614de), whereas in the Gorgias (525b-526d) they go to the Isles of the Blessed. All these three dialogues display the same tripartite structure, if with some variations, as the one of the Phaedo, although the description in the Republic (X, 614bff) is greatly elaborated with all kinds of details in the tale of Er.
38 Finally, in the Orphic Gold Leaves the stay in Tartarus is clearly presupposed but not mentioned, due to the function of the Gold Leaves as passport to the underworld for the Orphic devotees. Yet the fact that in a fourth-century BC Leaf from Thurii the soul says: ‘I have flown out of the heavy, difficult cycle (of reincarnations)’ suggests a second stage in which the souls still have to return to life, and the same stage is presupposed by a late fourth-century Leaf from Pharsalos where the soul says: ‘Tell Persephone that Bakchios himself has released you (from the cycle)’.159 The final stage will be like in Pindar, as the soul, whose purity is regularly stressed,160 ‘will rule among the other heroes’ or has ‘become a god instead of a mortal’.161
39 When taking these tripartite structures into account, we can also better understand Virgil’s Elysium. It is clear that we have here also the same distinction between the good and the super good souls. The former have to return to earth, but the latter can stay forever in Elysium. Moreover, their place is higher than the one of those who have to return. That is why the souls that will return are in a valley below the area where Musaeus is.162 Once again, Virgil looked at Plato for the construction of his underworld.
40 But as we have seen, it is not only Plato that is an important source for Virgil. In addition to a few traditional Roman details, such as the fauces Orci, we have also called attention to Orphic and Eleusinian beliefs. Moreover, and this is really new, we have pointed to several possible borrowings from 1 Enoch. Norden rejected virtually all
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Jewish influence on Virgil in his commentary,163 and one can only wonder to what extent his own Jewish origin played a role in this judgement.164 More recent discussions, though, have been more generous in allowing the possibility of Jewish- Sibylline influence on Virgil and Horace.165 And indeed, Alexander Polyhistor, who worked in Rome during Virgil’s lifetime, wrote a book On the Jews that shows that he knew the Old Testament, but he was also demonstrably acquainted with Egyptian- Jewish Sibylline literature.166 Thus it seems not impossible or even implausible that among the Orphic literature that Virgil had read, there also were (Egyptian-Jewish?) Orphic katabaseis with Enochic influence. Unfortunately, however, we have so little left of that literature that all too certain conclusions would be misleading. In the end, it is still not easy to see light in the darkness of Virgil’s underworld.167
NOTES
1. In general, see J.N. BREMMER, The Rise and Fall of the Afterlife, London & New York, 2002. 2. For Homer’s influence see still G.N. KNAUER, Die Aeneis und Homer, Göttingen, 1964, p. 107-147. 3. See NORDEN, Kleine Schriften zum klassischen Altertum, Berlin, 1966, p. 218-233 (‘Die Petrusapokalypse und ihre antiken Vorbilder’, 18931). 4. U. BOURIANT, “Fragments du texte grec du livre d’Énoch et de quelques écrits attribués à saint Pierre,” Mémoires publiées par les Membres de la Mission Archéologique Française au Caire IX.1, Paris, 1892 (editio princeps); J.A. ROBINSON and M.R. JAMES, The Gospel according to Peter and the Revelation of Peter, London, 1892; A. VON HARNACK, “Bruchstücke des Evangeliums und der Apokalypse des Petrus,” SB Berlin 44 (1892), p. 895-903, 949-965, repr. in his Kleine Schriften zur alten Kirche: Berliner Akademieschriften 1890-1907,Leipzig, 1980, p. 83-108. For the most recent edition see T.J. KRAUS and T. NICKLAS, Das Petrusevangelium und die Petrusapokalypse, Berlin & New York, 2004. 5. A. DIETRICH, Nekyia, Leipzig & Berlin, 1893. The second edition of 1913, edited by R. Wünsch, contains corrections, suggestions and additions from Dieterich’s own copy and the various reviews. For Dieterich (1866-1908) see the biography by Wünsch in A. DIETRICH, Kleine Schriften, Leipzig & Berlin, 1911, p. ix-xlii; F. PFISTER, “Albrecht Dieterichs Wirken in der Religionswissenschaft,” ARW 35 (1938), p. 180-185; A. WESSELS, Ursprungszauber. Zur Rezeption von Hermann Useners Lehre von der religiösen Begriffsbildung, New York & London, 2003, p. 96-128. 6. E. NORDEN, P. Vergilius Maro Aeneis VI, Leipzig, 19031, 19273, p. 5 (sources). 7. For Norden (1868-1941) see most recently J. RÜPKE, Römische Religion bei Eduard Norden, Marburg, 1993; B. KYTZLER et al. (eds.), Eduard Norden (1868-1941), Stuttgart, 1994; W.M. CALDER III and B. HUSS, “Sed serviendum officio…” The Correspondence between Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff and Eduard Norden (1892-1931), Berlin, 1997; W.A. SCHRÖDER, Der Altertumswissenschaftler Eduard Norden. Das Schicksal eines deutschen Gelehrten jüdischer Abkunft,Hildesheim, 1999; A. BAUMGARTEN, “Eduard Norden and His Students: a Contribution to a Portrait. Based on Three Archival Finds,” SCI 25 (2006), p. 121-140. 8. For a good survey of the status quo see A. SETAIOLI, “Inferi,” in EV II, p. 953-963. 9. R.G. AUSTIN, P. Vergili Maronis Aeneidos liber sextus, Oxford, 1977. For Austin (1901-1974) see, in his inimitable and hardly to be imitated manner, J. HENDERSON, ‘Oxford Reds’, London, 2006, p. 37-69.
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10. These new discoveries make that older studies, such as those by F. SOLMSEN, Kleine Schriften III, Hildesheim, 1982, p. 412-429, are now largely out of date. 11. This interest has culminated in the splendid new edition, with detailed bibliography and commentary, of the Orphic fragments (= OF) by A. BERNABÉ, Orphicorum et Orphicis similium testimonia et fragmenta. Poetae Epici Graeci. Pars II. Fasc. 1-3, Munich & Leipzig, 2004-7. 12. N. HORSFALL (ed.), A Companion to the Study of Virgil, Leiden, 20002, p. 150. 13. See especially N. HORSFALL, Virgilio: l’epopea in alambicco, Naples, 1991. 14. NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 208 (six parts). 15. For the entry see H. CANCIK, Verse und Sachen, Würzburg, 2003, p. 66-82 (‘Der Eingang in die Unterwelt. Ein religionswissenschaftlicher Versuch zu Vergil, Aeneis VI 236-272’, 19801). 16. Ar., Ra., 369 with scholion ad loc.; Isoc., 4, 157; Suet., Nero, 34, 4; Theo Smyrn., De utilitate mathematicae, p. 14, 23-24 HILLER; Celsus, apud Or. C. Celsum III, 59; Pollux, VIII, 90; Lib., Decl. XIII, 19, 52. For the prorrhesis of the Mysteries see C. RIEDWEG, Mysterienterminologie bei Platon, Philon und Klemens von Alexandrien, Berlin & New York, 1987, p. 74-85, who also compares our passage at p. 16. 17. See Bernabé ante OF 447 V with the bibliography; add now C. MEGINO RODRÍGUEZ, Orfeo y el Orfismo en la poesía de Empédocles, Madrid, 2005. 18. For further versions of the highly popular opening formula see O. WEINREICH, Ausgewählte Schriften II, Amsterdam, 1973, p. 386-387; C. RIEDWEG, Jüdisch-hellenistische Imitation eines orphischen Hieros Logos, Munich, 1993, p. 47-48; A. BERNABÉ, “La fórmula órfica “Cerrad las puertas, profanos”. Del profano religioso al profano en la material,” ‘Ilu 1 (1996), p. 13-37 and on OF 1 F; P.F. BEATRICE, “On the Meaning of “Profane” in the Pagan-Christian Conflict of Late Antiquity. The Fathers, Firmicus Maternus and Porphyry before the Orphic “Prorrhesis” (OF 245.1 Kern),” Ill. Class. Stud. 30 (2005), p. 137-165, who at p. 137 also notes the connection with Aen. VI, 258. 19. In addition to the opening formula see also Hom. H. Dem., 476; Eur., Ba., 471-472; Diod. Sic., V, 48, 4; Cat., 64, 260: orgia quae frustra cupiunt audire profani; Philo, Somn. I, 191. For the secrecy of the Mysteries see HORSFALL, o.c. (n. 13), p. 130; BREMMER, “Religious Secrets and Secrecy in Classical Greece,” in H.G. KIPPENBERG and G.G. STROUMSA (eds.), Secrecy and Concealment, Leiden, 1995, p. 61-78at 71-78; W. BURKERT, Kleine Schriften III: Mystica, Orphica, Pythagorica, ed. F. GRAF, Göttingen, 2006, p. 1-20; HORSFALL on Aen. III, 112. 20. For similar ‘signs’ see HORSFALL, o.c., (n. 13), p. 103-116 (‘I segnali per strada’). 21. Verg., Aen. VII, 570 with HORSFALL ad loc.; Val. Flacc., I, 784; Apul., Met. VII, 7; Gellius, XVI, 5, 11, 6; Arnobius, II, 53; Anth. Lat., 789, 5 RIESE. 22. H. WAGENVOORT, Studies in Roman Literature, Culture and Religion, Leiden, 1956, p. 102-131 (‘Orcus’); for a, possibly, similar idea in ancient Greece see M.L. WEST on Hesiod, Theogony, 727. 23. See also TLL VI, 1, 397, 49-68. 24. For a possible echo of Empedocles, B 121 D-K see C. GALLAVOTTI, “Empedocle,” in EV II, p. 216f. 25. For a possible Greek source see HORSFALL, o.c. (n. 13), p. 126f. 26. Most important evidence: Macr., Sat. III, 20, 3, cf. J. ANDRÉ, “Arbor felix, arbor infelix,” in Hommages à Jean Bayet, Brussels, 1964, p. 35-46; J. BAYET, Croyances et rites dans la Rome antique, Paris, 1971, p. 9-43. 27. Lucr., I, 115; Verg., Aen. VIII, 193, 242, 251 (ingens!); Sen., Tro., 178. 28. HORSFALL on Verg., Aen. VII, 323-340; BERNABÉ on OF 717 (= P. Bonon. 4), 33. 29. See NISBET and HUBBARD on Hor., C. 2, 14, 8; P. BRIZE, “Geryoneus,” in LIMC IV.1, (1990), p. 186-190 at no. 25. 30. A. HENRICHS, “Zur Perhorreszierung des Wassers der Styx bei Aischylos und Vergil,” ZPE 78 (1989), p. 1-29; H. PELLICCIA, “Aeschylean ἀμέγαρτος and Virgilian inamabilis,” ZPE 84 (1990), p. 187-194.
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31. Note its mention also in OF 717, 42. 32. L.V. GRINSELL, “The Ferryman and His Fee: A Study in Ethnology, Archaeology, and Tradition,” Folklore 68 (1957), p. 257-269; B. LINCOLN, Death, War, and Sacrifice, Chicago & London, 1991, p. 62-75 (“The Ferryman of the Dead”, 19801). 33. See most recently F. DIEZ DE VELASCO, Los caminos de la muerte, Madrid, 1995, p. 42-57; E. MUGIONE et al., PP 50 (1995), p. 357-434 (a number of articles on Charon and his fee); C. SOURVINOU-INWOOD, ‘Reading’ Greek Deathto the End of the Classical Period, Oxford, 1995, p. 303-361; J.H. OAKLEY, Picturing death in classical Athens. The evidence of the white lekythoi,Cambridge, 2004, p. 108-125. 34. OAKLEY, o.c. (n. 33), p. 123-125, 242 note 49 with bibliography; add R. SCHMITT, “Eine kleine persische Münze als Charonsgeld,” in Palaeograeca et Mycenaea Antonino Bartonĕk quinque et sexagenario oblate, Brno, 1991, p. 149-162; J. GORECKI, “Die Münzbeigabe, eine mediterrane Grabsitte. Nur Fahrlohn für Charon?,” in M. WITTEGER and P. FASOLD (eds.), Des Lichtes beraubt. Totenehrung in der römischen Gräberstrasse von Mainz-Weisenau, Wiesbaden, 1995, p. 93-103; G. THÜRY , “Charon und die Funktionen der Münzen in römischen Gräbern der Kaiserzeit,” in O. DUBUIS and S. FREY-KUPPER (eds.), Fundmünzen aus Gräbern, Lausanne, 1999, p. 17-30. 35. Contra NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 237. 36. See now G. BOCCACCINI and J. COLLINS (eds.), The Early Enoch Literature, Leiden, 2007. 37. L. RADERMACHER, Das Jenseits im Mythos der Hellenen, Bonn, 1903, p. 14-5, overlooked by M. HIMMELFARB, Tours of Hell, Philadelphia, 1983, p. 49-50 and wrongly disputed by H. LLOYD-JONES, Greek Epic,Lyric and Tragedy, Oxford, 1990, p. 183, cf. J. FLEMMING and L. RADERMACHER, Das Buch Henoch, Leipzig, 1901. For Radermacher (1867-1952) see A. LESKY, Gesammelte Schriften, Munich & Berne, 1966, p. 672-688; A. WESSELS, Ursprungszauber. Zur Rezeption von Hermann Useners Lehre von der religiösen Begriffsbildung, Berlin & New York, 2003, p. 129-154. 38. As was first pointed out by HIMMELFARB, o.c. (n. 37), p. 41-67. 39. HIMMELFARB, o.c. (n. 37), p. 49-50; J. LIGHTFOOT, The Sibylline Oracles, Oxford, 2007, p. 502-503, who also notes ‘that 562-627 contains three instances each of hic as adverb (580, 582, 608) and demonstrative pronoun (587, 621, 623), a rhetorical question answered by the Sibyl herself (574-577), and several relative clauses (583, 608, 610, 612) identifying individual sinners or groups’. Add Aeneas’ questions in the Heldenschau in 710ff and, especially, 863 (quis, pater, ille…), and further demonstrative pronouns in 773-774, 776 and 788-791. 40. See also BREMMER, “Orphic, Roman, Jewish and Christian Tours of Hell: Observations on the Apocalypse of Peter,” in E. EYNIKEL, F. GARCÍA MARTÍNEZ, T. NICKLAS & J. VERHEYDEN (eds.), Other Worlds and their Relation to this World, Leiden, 2009, forthcoming. 41. LINCOLN, o.c. (n. 32), 96-106; M.L. WEST, Indo-European Poetry and Myth, Oxford, 2007, p. 392. 42. For the text see now, with extensive bibliography and commentary, BERNABÉ, Orphicorum et Orphicis similium testimonia et fragmenta. II, 2, 271-87 (= OF 717), who notes on p. 271: ‘omnia quae in papyro leguntur cum Orphica doctrina recentioris aetatis congruunt’. 43. This has now been established by N. HORSFALL, “P. Bonon.4 and Virgil, Aen.6, yet again,” ZPE 96 (1993), p. 17-18; note also HORSFALL on Verg., Aen. VII, 182. 44. LIGHTFOOT, o.c. (n. 39), p. 513 (quotes), who compares 1 Enoch 99.5; see also HIMMELFARB, o.c. (n. 37), p. 71-72, 74-75; D. SCHWARTZ, “Did the Jews Practice Infant Exposure and Infanticide in Antiquity?,” Studia Philonica Annual 16 (2004), p. 61-95; L.T. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91-108, Berlin & New York, 2007, p. 390-391; D. SHANZER, “Voices and Bodies: The Afterlife of the Unborn,” Numen 56 (2009), p. 326-365, with a new discussion of the beginning of the Bologna papyrus at p. 355-359, in which she persuasively argues that the papyrus mentions abortion, not infanticide. 45. A. SETAIOLI, “Nuove osservazioni sulla “descrizione dell’oltretomba” nel papiro di Bologna,” SIFC 42 (1970), p. 179-224 at 205-220. 46. RIEDWEG, o.c. (n. 18).
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47. Y. GRISÉ, Le suicide dans la Rome antique, Montréal & Paris, 1982, p. 158-164. 48. Note the popularity of these two heroines in funeral poetry in Hellenistic-Roman times: SEG 52, 942, 1672. 49. See, passim, S.I. JOHNSTON, Restless Dead, Berkeley et al., 1999. 50. NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 238-239. 51. Pl., Grg., 524a, Phd., 108a; Resp. X, 614cd; Porph., fr. 382 SMITH; Corn. Labeo, fr. 7 MASTANDREA. 52. F. GRAF and S.I. JOHNSTON, Ritual Texts for the Afterlife: Orpheus and the Bacchic Gold Tablets, London & New York, 2007, no. 3, 2 (Thurii) = OF 487, 2; 8, 4 (Entella) = OF 475, 4; 25, 1 (Pharsalos) = OF 477, 1; A. BERNABÉ & A.I. JIMÉNEZ SAN CRISTÓBAL, Instructions for the Netherworld, Leiden, 2008, p. 22-24(who also connect VI, 540-543 with Orphism). For the exceptions, preference for the left in the Leaves from Petelia (no. 2, 1 = OF 476, 1) and Rhethymnon (no. 18, 2 = OF 484a, 2), see the discussion by GRAF and JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), p. 108, 111. The two roads also occur in the Bologna papyrus, cf.OF 717, 77 with SETAIOLI, l.c. (n. 45), p. 186f. 53. R.U. SMITH, “The Pythagorean letter and Virgil’s golden bough,” Dionysius NS 18, (2000), p. 7-24. 54. Cf. A. FO, “Moenia,” in EV III, p. 557-558. 55. Il. VII, 131; XI, 263; XIV, 457; XX, 366; Empedocles, B 142 D-K, cf. A. MARTIN, “Empédocle, Fr. 142 D.-K. Nouveau regard sur un papyrus d’Herculaneum,” Cronache Ercolanesi 33 (2003), p. 43-52; M. JANDA, Eleusis. Das indogermanische Erbe der Mysterien, Innsbruck, 2000, p. 69-71; WEST, o.c. (n. 41), 388. Note alsoAen. VI, 269: domos Ditis. 56. GRAF and JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), no. 1, 2 = OF 474, 2. 57. For Hesiod’s influence on Virgil see A. LA PENNA, “Esiodo,” EV II, p. 386-388; HORSFALL on Verg., Aen. VII, 808. 58. LIGHTFOOT, o.c. (n. 39), p. 514. 59. Lexikon des frühgriechischen Epos I, Göttingen, 1955, s.v.; WEST on Hesiod, Th., 161; LIGHTFOOT, o.c. (n. 39), p. 494f. 60. On Kronos and his Titans see now J.N. BREMMER, Greek Religion and Culture, the Bible, and the Ancient Near East, Leiden, 2008, p. 73-99. 61. For rather different positions see R. THOMAS, Reading Virgil and His Texts, Ann Arbor, 1999, p. 267-287 and HORSFALL on Verg., Aen. III, 570-587. 62. NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 274 rightly compares Aen. II, 460 (now with HORSFALL ad loc.), although 3 pages later he compares Pindar; E. WISTRAND, “Om grekernas och romarnas hus,” Eranos 37 (1939), p. 1-63 at 31-32; idem, Opera selecta, Stockholm, 1972, p. 218-220. For anachronisms in the Aeneid see HORSFALL, o.c. (n. 13), p. 135-144. 63. Il. VIII, 13, 478; Hes., Th., 119 with West ad loc.; G. CERRI, “Cosmologia dell’Ade in Omero, Esiodo e Parmenide,” PP 50 (1995), p. 437-467; D.M. JOHNSON, “Hesiod’s Descriptions of Tartarus (Theogony 721-819),” Phoenix 53 (1999), p. 8-28. 64. Note their presence also, except for Salmoneus, in Horace’s underworld: NISBET and RUDD on Hor., O. III, 4. 65. Compare Soph., fr. 10c6 RADT (making noise with hides, cf. Apollod., I, 9, 7, cf. R. SMITH and S. TRZASKOMA, “Apollodorus 1.9.7: Salmoneus’ Thunder-Machine,” Philologus 139 [2005], p. 351-354 and R.D. GRIFFITH, “Salmoneus’ Thunder-Machine again,” ibidem 152 [2008], p. 143-145; Greg. Naz., Or. V, 8); Man., 5, 91-94 (bronze bridge) and Servius on Aen. VI, 585 (bridge). 66. In line 591, aere, which is left unexplained by Norden, hardly refers to a bronze bridge (previous note: so Austin) but to the ‘bronze cauldrons’ of Hes., fr. 30, 5; 7 M-W. 67. For the myth see Hes., fr. 15, 30 M-W; Soph., fr. 537-541a RADT; Diod. Sic., IV, 68, 2, 6 fr. 7; Hyg., Fab., 61, 250; Plut., Mor., 780f;Anth. Pal. XVI, 30; Eustathius on Od. I, 235; XI, 236; P. HARDIE, Virgil’s Aeneid: cosmos and imperium, Oxford, 1986, p. 183-186; D.CURIAZI, “Note a Virgilio,” MCr 23/4
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(1988/9), p. 307-309; A. MESTUZINI, “Salmoneo,” in EV IV, p. 663-666; E. SIMON, “Salmoneus,” in LIMC VII.1 (1994), p. 653-655. 68. Austin translates ‘son’, as Homer (Od. VII, 324; XI, 576) calls him a son of Gaia, but Tityos being a foster son is hardly ‘nach der jungen Sagenform’ (Norden), cf. Hes., fr. 78 M-W; Pherec., fr. 55 FOWLER; Apoll. Rhod., I, 761-762; Apollod., I, 4, 1. For alumnus see C. MOUSSY, “Alo, alesco, adolesco,” in Étrennes de septantaine. Travaux … offerts à Michel Lejeune, Paris, 1978, p. 167-178. 69. Ixion appears in the underworld as early as Ap. Rhod., III, 62, cf. LIGHTFOOT, o.c. (n. 39), p. 517. 70. J. ZETZEL, “Romane Memento: Justice and Judgment in Aeneid 6,” TAPhA 119 (1989), p. 263-284 at 269-270. 71. BREMMER,l.c. (n. 40). 72. Differently, HORSFALL, o.c. (n. 13), p. 48: ‘le punizioni dei grandi peccatori non siano arrivate ad una distribuzione “fissa” ancora alla fine del primo secolo a.C.’ 73. Note also Dido’s aurea sponda (I, 698); Sen. Thy. 909: purpurae atque auro incubat. Originally, golden couches were a Persian feature, cf. Hdt., IX, 80, 82; Esther 1.6; Plut., Luc., 37, 5; Athenaeus, V, 197a. 74. P. SALAT, “Phlégyas et Tantale aux Enfers. À propos des vers 601-627 du sixième livre de l’ Énéide,” in Études de littérature ancienne, II : Questions de sens, Paris, 1982, p. 13-29; F. DELLA CORTE, “Il catalogo dei grandi dannati,” Vichiana 11 (1982), p. 95-99 = idem, Opuscula IX, Genua, 1985, p. 223-227;A. POWELL, “The Peopling of the Underworld: Aeneid 6.608-27,” in H.-P. STAHL (ed.), Vergil’s Aeneid: Augustan Epic and Political Context,London, 1998, p. 85-100. 75. NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 5 note 2 notes influence of Heracles’ katabasis on the following lines: 131-132, 260 (cf. 290-294, with LLOYD-JONES, o.c. (n. 37), p. 181 on Bacch., V, 71-84, and F. GRAF, Eleusis und die orphische Dichtung Athens in vorhellenistischer Zeit, Berlin, 1974, p. 145 note 18 on Ar., Ra., 291, where Dionysus wants to attack Empusa), 309-312 (see also NORDEN, o.c. (n. 3), p. 508 note 77), 384-416, 477-493, 548-627, 666-678. For Empusa see now A. ANDRISANO, “Empusa, nome parlante (Ar. Ran. 288 ss.)?,” in A. ERCOLANI (ed.), Spoudaiogeloion. Form und Funktion der Verspottung in der aristophanischen Komödie, Stuttgart & Weimar, 2002, p. 273-297. 76. NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 5 note 2 notes influence of Orpheus’ katabasis on lines 120 (see also NORDEN, o.c. (n. 3), p. 506-507), 264ff (?), 384-416, 548-627. Unfortunately, R.G. EDMONDS III, Myths of the Underworld Journey, Cambridge, 2004, p. 17, rejects Norden’s findings without any serious discussion of the passages involved. 77. Note that the commentary of W.B. STANFORD on the Frogs, London, 19632, is more helpful in detecting Orphic influence in the play than that by K.J. DOVER, Oxford, 1993. 78. H. LLOYD-JONES, “Heracles at Eleusis: P. Oxy. 2622 and P.S.I. 1391,” Maia 19 (1967), p. 206-229 = o.c. (n. 37), 167-187; see also R. PARKER, Athenian Religion, Oxford, 1996, p. 98-100. 79. J. BOARDMAN et al., “Herakles,” in LIMC IV.1 (1988), p. 728-838 at 805-808. 80. PARKER, o.c. (n. 78), p. 100. 81. GRAF, o.c. (n. 75), p. 146 note 22, who compares Apollod., II, 5, 12, cf. I, 5, 3 (see also Ov., Met. V, 538-550; P. Mich. Inv. 1447, 42-43, re-edited by M. VAN ROSSUM-STEENBEEK, Greek Readers’ Digests?, Leiden, 1997, p. 336; Servius on Aen. IV, 462-463), notes that the presence of the Eleusinian Askalaphos in Apollodorus also suggests a larger Eleusinian influence. This may well be true, but his earliest Eleusinian mention is Euphorion, 9, 13 POWELL, and he is absent from Virgil. Did Apollodorus perhaps add him to his account of Heracles’ katabasis from another source? 82. Contra GRAF, o.c. (n. 75), p. 145-6. Note also the doubts of R. PARKER, Polytheism and Society at Athens, Oxford, 2005, p. 363 note 159. 83. NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 274f. 84. NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 275.
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85. Hdt., VII, 6, 3 (forgery: OF 1109 = Musaeus, fr. 68 BERNABÉ), VIII, 96, 2 (= OF 69), IX, 43, 2 (= OF 70); Soph., fr. 1116 RADT (= OF 30); Ar., Ra., 1033 (= OF 63). 86. Pl., Prot., 316d = Musaeus, fr. 52 BERNABÉ; GRAF, o.c. (n. 75), p. 9-21; LLOYD-JONES, o.c. (n. 37), p. 182-3; A. KAUFMANN-SAMARAS, “Mousaios”, in LIMC VI.1 (1992), p. 685-687, no. 3. 87. As is also noted by NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 237 (on the basis of Servius on VI, 392) and o.c. (n. 3), p. 508-509 notes 77 and 79. 88. GRAF and JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), p. 172-174. 89. Norden rightly compares VI, 120: Threicia fretus cithara; see also his o.c. (n. 3), p. 506-507 with further reflections. 90. Orph. Arg., 40-42: Ἄλλα δέ σοι κατέλεξ’ ἅπερ εἴσιδον ἠδ’ ἐνόησα, Ταίναρον ἡνίκ’ ἔβην σκοτίην ὁδὸν, Ἄϊδος εἴσω, ἡμετέρῃ πίσυνος κιθάρῃ δι’ ἔρωτ’ ἀλόχοιο. 91. See also NORDEN, o.c. (n. 3), p. 508f. For Orpheus’ account in the first person singular, U. VON WILAMOWITZ-MOELLENDORFF, Der Glaube der Hellenen, 2 vols, Darmstadt, 19593, II, p. 194-195 also persuasively compares Plut., Mor., 566c (= OF 412). 92. BREMMER, “Orpheus: From Guru to Gay,” in Ph. BORGEAUD (ed.), Orphisme et Orphée, Geneva, 1991, p. 13-30 at 13-17 (also on the name Eurydice); see now also D. FONTANNAZ, “L’entre-deux- mondes. Orphée et Eurydice sur une hydrie proto-italiote du sanctuaire de la source à Saturo,” Antike Kunst 51 (2008), p. 41-72. 93. E. SIMON, “Die Hochzeit des Orpheus und der Eurydike,” in J. GEBAUER et al. (eds.), Bildergeschichte. Festschrift für Klaus Stähler, Möhnesee, 2004, p. 451-456. 94. They have survived only in Roman copies, cf. G. SCHWARTZ, “Eurydike I,” in LIMC IV.1 (1988), p. 98-100 at no. 5. 95. M.L. WEST, The Orphic Poems, Oxford, 1983, p. 10 note 17 unpersuasively identifies the two, like already WILAMOWITZ-MOELLENDORFF, o.c. (n. 91), II, p. 195 note 2. 96. Pl., Ap.,33e; Phd., 59b; Xen., Mem. III, 12, 1. 97. WEST, o.c. (n. 95), p. 10 note 17. 98. F. CORDANO, “Camarina città democratica?,” PP 59 (2004), p. 283-292; S. HORNBLOWER, Thucydides and Pindar, Oxford, 2004, p. 190-192. 99. Hypothesis Critias’ Pirithous (cf. fr. 6 SNELL-KANNICHT); Philochoros, FGrH 328 F 18; Diod. Sic., IV, 26, 1; 63, 4; Hor., C. III, 4, 80; Hyg., Fab., 79; Apollod., II, 5, 12, Ep. I, 23f. 100. For this case see also HORSFALL, o.c. (n. 13), p. 49. 101. D. KUIJPER, “Phlegyas admonitor”, Mnemosyne n.s. 4 16 (1963), p. 162-70; G. GARBUGINO, “Flegias,” EV II, p. 539-540 notes his late appearance in our texts. 102. Even though it is a different Phlegyas, one may wonder whether Statius, Thebais 6.706 et casus Phlegyae monet does not allude to his words here: admonet… “discite iustitiam moniti…”? The passage is not discussed by R. GANIBAN, Statius and Virgil, Cambridge, 2007. 103. NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 275-276, compares, in addition to Pindar (see the main text), Pl., Grg., 525c; Phaedo, 114a; Resp. X, 616a. 104. To be added to AUSTIN ad loc. 105. D. BERRY, “Criminals in Virgil’s Tartarus: Contemporary Allusions in Aeneid 6.621-4,” CQ 42 (1992), p. 416-420. 106. Cf. HORSFALL, o.c. (n. 43). 107. Hes., Theog., 504-505; Apollod., I, 1, 2 and II, 1; III, 10, 4 (which may well go back to an ancient Titanomachy); see also Pindar, fr. 266 MAEHLER. 108. Istros FGrH 334 F 71 (inventors); POxy. 10.1241, re-edited by VAN ROSSUM-STEENBEEK, o.c. (n. 81), 68.92-98 (Teuchion).
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109. Pind., fr. 169a.7 MAEHLER; Bacch., XI, 77; Soph., fr. 227 RADT; Hellanicus, FGrH 4 F 87 = fr. 88 FOWLER; Eur., HF, 15; IA, 1499; Eratosth., Cat., 39 (altar); Strabo, VIII, 6, 8; Apollod., II, 2, 1; Paus., II, 25, 8; Anth. Pal. VII, 748; schol. on Eur., Or., 965; Et. Magnum, 213.29. 110. As is argued by H. WAGENVOORT, Pietas, Leiden, 1980, p. 93-113 (‘The Golden Bough’, 19591) at 93. 111. See also S. EITREM, Opferritus und Voropfer der Griechen und Römer, Kristiania, 1915, p. 126-131; A.S. PEASE on Verg., Aen. IV, 635. 112. For Aeneas picking the Bough on a mid-fourth-century British mosaic see D. PERRING, “ ‘Gnosticism’ in Fourth-Century Britain: The Frampton Mosaics Reconsidered,” Britannia 34 (2003), p. 97-127 at 116. 113. Compare J.G. FRAZER, Balder the Beautiful = The Golden Bough VII.2, London, 19133, p. 284 note 3 and NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 164 note 1. 114. This is also noted by WAGENVOORT, o.c. (n. 110), p. 96f. 115. NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 171-173. 116. In this section on the Golden Bough I refer just by name to D.A. WEST, “The Bough and the Gate,” in S.J. HARRISON (ed.), Oxford Readings in Vergil’s Aeneid, Oxford, 1990, p. 224-238; HORSFALL, o.c. (n. 13), p. 20-28 (with a detailed commentary on 6.210-11) and D. NELIS, Vergil’s Aeneid and the Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius, Leeds, 2001, p. 240f. The first two seem to have escaped R. TURCAN, “Le laurier d’Apollon (en marge de Porphyre),” in A. HALTENHOFF & F.-H. MUTSCHLER (eds.), Hortus Litterarum Antiquarum. Festschrift H.A. Gärtner, Heidelberg, 2000, p. 547-553. 117. WEST, o.c. (n. 41), p. 190; BREMMER, o.c. (n. 60), p. 59f. 118. A.K. MICHELS, “The Golden Bough of Plato,” AJPh 66 (1945), p. 59-63. For Agnes Michels (1909-1993), a daughter of the well-known Biblical scholar Kirsopp Lake (1872-1946), see J. LINDERSKI, “Agnes Kirsopp Michels and the Religio,” CJ 92 (1997), p. 323-345, reprinted in his Roman Questions II, Stuttgart, 2007, p. 584-602. 119. Servius, Aen. VI, 136: licet de hoc ramo hi qui de sacris Proserpinae scripsisse dicuntur, quiddam esse mysticum adfirment … ad sacra Proserpinae accedere nisi sublato ramo non poterat. inferos autem subire hoc dicit, sacra celebrare Proserpinae. 120. Schol. Ar., Eq., 408; C. BÉRARD, “La lumière et le faisceau : images du rituel éleusinien,” Recherches et documents du centre Thomas More 48 (1985), p. 17-33; M.B. MOORE, Attic Red-Figured and White-Ground Pottery = The Athenian Agora, Vol. 30, Princeton, 1997, p. 136-137; PARKER, o.c. (n. 82), p. 349. 121. The connection with Eleusis is also stressed by G. LUCK, Ancient Pathways and Hidden Pursuits, Ann Arbor, 2000, p. 16-34 (‘Virgil and the Mystery Religions’, 19731), if often too specifically. 122. R. PARKER, Miasma, Oxford, 1983, p. 284 notes 12f. 123. Suet., Aug., 93; Dio Cassius, LI, 4, 1; G. BOWERSOCK, Augustus and the Greek World, Oxford, 1965, p. 68. 124. For woods in the underworld see Od. X, 509; GRAF and JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), no. 3, 5-6 (Thurii) = OF 487, 5-6; Aen. 6.658; Nonnos, D. XIX, 191. 125. GRAF and JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), no. 3, 5-6 = OF 487. 126. Oracula Sibyllina III, 619: ‘And then God will give great joy to men’, and 785: ‘Rejoice, maiden’, cf. E. NORDEN, Die Geburt des Kindes, Stuttgart, 1924, p. 57f. 127. Pind., fr. 129 MAEHLER; Ar., Ra., 448-455; Or. Sib. III, 787; Val. Flacc., I, 842; Plut., fr. 178; 211 SANDBACH; Visio Pauli, 21, cf.GRAF, o.c. (n. 75), p. 82-84. 128. HORSFALL, o.c. (n. 13), p. 139. 129. For the Titans being the ‘olden gods’ see BREMMER, o.c. (n. 60), p. 78. 130. GRAF, o.c. (n. 75), p. 98-103.
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131. Pind., fr. 129 MAEHLER; Ar., Ra., 326; Pl., Grg., 524a, Resp. X, 616b; Diod. Sic., I, 96, 5; BERNABÉ on OF 61. 132. GRAF and JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), no. 3, 5-6 (Thurii) = OF 487, 5-6, no. 27.4 (Pherae) = OF 493, 4. 133. The Eridanus also appears in Apollonius Rhodius as a kind of otherwordly river (Arg. IV, 596ff.), but there it is connected with the myth of Phaethon and the poplars and resembles more Virgil’s Lake Avernus with its sulphur smell than the forest smelling of laurels in the underworld. For the name of the river see now X. DELAMARRE, “Ἠριδανός, le « fleuve de l’ouest »,” Études celtiques 36 (2008), p. 75-77. 134. N. HORSFALL, “Odoratum lauris nemus (Virgil, Aeneid 6.658),” SCI12 (1993), p. 156-158. Later readers may perhaps have also thought of the laurel trees that stood in front of Augustus’ home on the Palatine, given the importance of Augustus in this book, cf. A. ALFÖLDI, Die zwei Lorbeerbäume des Augustus, Bonn, 1973; M.B. FLORY, “The Symbolism of Laurel in Cameo Portraits of Livia,” MAAR 40 (1995), p. 43-68. 135. Cf. M. TREU, “Die neue ‘Orphische’ Unterweltsbeschreibung und Vergil,” Hermes 82 (1954), p. 24-51 at 35: ‘die primitiven Wurzelsucher’. 136. NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 287-288; GRAF, o.c. (n. 75), p. 146 note 21 compares VI, 609 with Ar., Ra., 149-150 (violence against parents), VI, 609 with Ra., 147 (violence against strangers) and VI, 612-613 with Ra., 150 (perjurers). Note also the resemblance of VI, 608, OF 717, 47 and Pl., Resp. X, 615c regarding fratricides, which also points to an older Orphic source, as Norden already saw, without knowing the Bologna papyrus. 137. GRAF, o.c. (n. 75), p. 34-37. 138. Note that neither Stanford nor Dover refers to Virgil. 139. 679-80 penitus convalle virenti inclusas animas; 703: valle reducta; 704: seclusum nemus. 140. Theognis, 1216 (plain of Lethe); Simon., Anth. Pal. VII, 25, 6 (house of Lethe); Ar., Ra., 186 (plain of Lethe); Pl., Resp. X, 621ac (plain and river); TrGF Adesp. fr. 372 SNELL/KANNICHT (house of Lethe); SEG 51, 328 (curse tablet: Lethe as a personal power). For its occurrence in the Gold Leaves see RIEDWEG, o.c. (n. 16), p. 40. 141. Soul: Pl., Crat., 400c (= OF 430), Phd., 62b (= OF 429), 67d, 81be, 92a; [Plato], Axioch., 365e; G. REHRENBOCK, “Die orphische Seelenlehre in Platons Kratylos,” WS 88 (1975), p. 17-31; A. BERNABÉ, “Una etimología Platónica: Sôma – Sêma,” Philologus 139 (1995), p. 204-37. For the afterlife of the idea see P. COURCELLE, Connais-toi toi-même de Socrate à Saint Bernard, 3 vols, Paris, 1974-75, II, p. 345-80. Engrafted evil: Pl., Phd., 81c; Resp. X, 609a; Tim., 42ac. Plato and Orphism: A. MASARACCHIA, “Orfeo e gli “Orfici” in Platone,” in idem (ed.), Orfeo e l’Orfismo, Rome, 1993, p. 173-203, repr. in his Riflessioni sull’antico, Pisa & Rome, 1998, p. 373-396. 142. TREU, l.c. (n. 135), p. 38 compares OF 717, 130-132; see also G. PERRONE, “Virgilio Aen. VI 740-742,” Civiltà Classica e Cristiana 6 (1985), p. 33-41. 143. GRAF and JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), 6, 4 (Thurii) = OF 490, 4; 27, 4 (Pherae) = OF 493, 4. 144. OF 338, 467, GRAF and JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), 5, 5 (Thurii) = OF 488, 5, with BERNABÉ ad loc. 145. Pl., Resp. X, 615b, 621a. 146. NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 23-26, also comparing Servius on V, 735 and VI, 887; Ps. Probus p. 333-334 HAGEN. 147. S.I. JOHNSTON, Hekate Soteira, Atlanta, 1990, p. 31. 148. W. BURKERT, Lore and Science in Ancient Pythagoreanism, Cambridge, Mass., 1972, p. 366-368, who also points out that there is no pre-Platonic Pythagorean evidence for this belief; see also F. CUMONT, Lux perpetua, Paris, 1949, p. 175-178; H.B. GOTTSCHALK, Heraclides of Pontus, Oxford, 1980, p. 100-105. 149. Note that Wilamowitz already rejected the ‘Mondgöttin Helene oder Hekate’ in his letter of 11 June 1903 thanking Norden for his commentary, cf. CALDER III and HUSS, “Sed serviendum officio…,” p. 18-21 at 20.
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150. Pl., Resp. II, 364e; Philochoros, FGrH 328 F 208, cf. BERNABÉ on Musaeus 10-14 T. 151. A. HENRICHS, “Zur Genealogie des Musaios,” ZPE 58 (1985), p. 1-8. 152. IG I3 1179, 6-7; Eur., Erechth., fr. 370, 71 KANNICHT; Suppl., 533-534; Hel., 1013-1016; Or., 1086-1087, fr. 839, 10f, 908b, 971 KANNICHT; P. HANSEN, Carmina epigraphica Graeca saeculi IV a. Chr. n., Berlin & New York, 1989, no. 535, 545, 558, 593. 153. For Antonius’ date see now G. BOWERSOCK, Fiction as History: Nero to Julian, Berkeley, LA & London, 1994, p. 35-39, whose identification of the Faustinus addressed by Antonius with Martial’s Faustinus is far from compelling, cf. R. NAUTA, Poetry for Patrons, Leiden, 2002, p. 67-68 note 96. Bowersock has been overlooked by P. VON MÖLLENDORFF, Auf der Suche nach der verlogenen Wahrheit. Lukians Wahre Geschichten, Tübingen, 2000, p. 104-109, although his discussion actually supports an earlier date for Antonius against the traditional one in the late second or early third century. 154. For Hades, Elysium and the Isles of the Blessed see most recently M. GELINNE, “Les Champs Élysées et les Îles des Bienheureux chez Homère, Hésiode et Pindare,” LEC 56 (1988), p. 225-240; SOURVINOU-INWOOD, o.c. (n. 33), p. 17-107; S. MACE, “Utopian and Erotic Fusion in a New Elegy by Simonides (22 West2),” ZPE 113 (1996), p. 233-247. For the etymology of Elysium see now R.S.P. BEEKES, “Hades and Elysion,” in J. JASANOFF (ed.), Mír curad: studies in honor of Calvert Watkins, Innsbruck, 1998, p. 17-28 at 19-23. Stephanie WEST(on Od. IV, 563) well observes that Elysium is not mentioned again before Apollonius’ Argonautica. 155. For good observations see U. MOLYVIATI-TOPTSIS, “Vergil’s Elysium and the Orphic- Pythagorean Ideas of After-Life,” Mnemosyne n.s.447 (1994), p. 33-46. However, recent scholarship has replaced her terminology of ‘Orphic-Pythagorean’, which she inherited from Dieterich and Norden, with ‘Orphic-Bacchic’, due to new discoveries of Orphic Gold Leaves. Moreover, she overlooked the important discussion by GRAF, o.c. (n. 75), p. 84-87; see now also GRAF and JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), p. 100-108. 156. For the reflection of this scheme in Pindar’s threnos fr. 129-131a MAEHLER see GRAF, o.c. (n. 75), p. 84f. Given the absence of any mention of mysteries in Pindar, O. II and mysteries being out of place in Plutarch’s Consolatio one wonders with Graf if τελετᾶν in fr. 131a should not be replaced by τελευτάν. 157. For the identification of this place with Hades see A. MARTIN & O. PRIMAVESI, L’Empédocle de Strasbourg, Berlin & New York, 1999, p. 315f. 158. F. D’ALFONSO, “La Terra Desolata. Osservazioni sul destino di Bellerofonte (Il. 6.200-202),” MH 65 (2008), p. 1-31 at 14-20. 159. GRAF & JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), 5, 5 (= OF 488, 5); 26a, 2 (= OF 485, 2). Dionysos Bakchios has now also turned up on a Leaf from Amphipolis: GRAF & JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), 30, 1-2 (= OF 496n). 160. GRAF & JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), 5, 1; 6, 1; 7, 1 (all Thurii); 9, 1 (Rome) (= OF 488, 1; 490, 1; 489, 1; 491, 1). 161. GRAF & JOHNSTON, o.c. (n. 52), 8, 11 (Petelia) (= OF 476, 11); 3, 4 (Thurii) (= OF 487, 4); 5, 9 (Thurii) (= OF 488, 9), respectively. 162. This was also seen by MOLYVIATI-TOPTSIS, o.c. (n. 155), p. 43, if not very clearly explained. 163. NORDEN, o.c. (n. 6), p. 6. 164. For Norden’s attitude towards Judaism see J.E. BAUER, “Eduard Norden: Wahrheitsliebe und Judentum,” in KYTZLER, o.c. (n. 8), p.205-23; R.G.M. NISBET, Collected Papers on Latin Literature, ed. S.J. HARRISON, Oxford, 1995, p. 75; J. BREMMER, “The Apocalypse of Peter: Greek or Jewish?,” in J. BREMMER and I. CZACHESZ (eds.), The Apocalypse of Peter, Leuven, 2003, p. 15-39 at 3-4. 165. C. MACLEOD, Collected Essays, Oxford, 1983, p. 218-299 (on Horace’s Epode, 16, 2); NISBET, o.c. (n. 164), p. 48-52, 64-65, 73-75, 163-164; W. STROH, “Horaz und Vergil in ihren prophetischen
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Gedichten,” Gymnasium 100 (1993), p. 289-322; L. WATSON, A Commentary on Horace’s Epodes, Oxford, 2003, p. 481-482, 489, 508, 511 (on Horace’s Epode 16). 166. Alexander Polyhistor, FGrH 273 F 19ab (OT), F 79 (4) quotes Or. Sib. III, 397-104, cf. LIGHTFOOT, o.c. (n. 39), p. 95; see also NORDEN, o.c. (n. 3), p. 269. 167. Various parts of this paper profited from lectures in Liège and Harvard in 2008. For comments and corrections of my English I am most grateful to Annemarie Ambühl, Ruurd Nauta, Danuta Shanzer and, especially, Nicholas Horsfall.
ABSTRACTS
More than a century after the first appearance of Norden’s classic commentary on Aeneid VI in 1903 the time has come to see to what extent the new discoveries of Orphic materials and new insights in the ways Virgil worked enrich and/or correct our understanding of that text. We will therefore take a fresh look at Virgil’s underworld, but limit our comments to those passages where perhaps something new can be contributed. This means that we will especially concentrate on the Orphic, the Eleusinian, and the, if usually neglected, Hellenistic-Jewish backgrounds of Aeneas’s descent. Yet a Roman poet hardly could totally avoid his own Roman tradition or the contemporary world, and, in a few instances, we will comment on these aspects as well. As Norden observed, Virgil had divided his picture of the underworld into six parts, and we will follow these in our argument.
Plus d’un siècle après la publication, en 1903, du commentaire classique de Norden sur le livre six de l’Énéide, il est temps de considérer à quel point les nouvelles découvertes de matériel orphique et les nouvelles idées sur la manière de travailler de Virgile enrichissent et/ou corrigent la compréhension de ce texte. Il s’agit dès lors de porter un regard neuf sur l’au-delà de Virgile, mais en limitant nos commentaires aux passages sur lesquels il est possible d’apporter quelque chose de nouveau. Ce sont les éléments orphiques et éleusiniens, tout autant que l’arrière-plan hellénistique juif – souvent négligé – sur lesquels l’analyse se concentre. En outre, un poète romain pouvait difficilement négliger totalement sa propre tradition romaine ou le monde contemporain, et, à quelques reprises, ces aspects seront également commentés. Comme Norden l’a observé, Virgile a réparti l’image de l’au-delà en six parties, et c’est son parcours que notre analyse épouse.
AUTHOR
JAN BREMMER Troelstralaan, 78 NL – 9722 JN GRONINGEN [email protected]
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Chronique des activités scientifiques
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Epigraphic Bulletin for Greek Religion 2006 (EBGR 2006)
Angelos Chaniotis
1 The 19th issue of the Epigraphic Bulletin for Greek Religion presents a selection of the epigraphic publications of 2006 and several additions to earlier issues. Following the practice of the last issues, emphasis was placed on the presentation of new corpora and editions of new texts. We note the publication of two corpora containing inscriptions from Thessalonike (88) and Antiocheia in Pisidia (21). This issue also contains several interesting new texts. Undoubtedly, the most important is the dossier of letters of Hadrian, which provides detailed information on the organisation of agonistic festivals (114). An interesting expression of religious experience is an inscription from Aizanoi, which reports how the dreadful fear felt by a certain Menophilos (on account of a vision?, of divine punishment?) lead to the foundation of the cult of Great Zeus of Menophilos (95). Divine punishment seems also to have forced an individual to dedicate a slave to Artemis Ephesia in Macedonia (9). An interesting dedication from Kallipolis (4th/3rd cent., 101) is designated as λυσίπονα (‘expression of gratitude for the end of suffering’); this texts is also a very rare attestation of the cult of Nyx. A new ‘confession inscription’ is now added to the corpus of this intriguing group of texts (78).
2 A new sacred regulation from Thasos (55) concerns order in a sanctuary of the Delian gods; another sacred regulation can now be restored as a regulation concerning the sale of the priesthood of the gods of the council at Kos (57). Regarding the imperial cult, important new evidence has come to light in Metropolis (Ionia, 38), including an altar for Augustus Heilasterios and a new copy of the dossier of documents concerning the celebration of his birthday in Asia. An inscription from Rhodiapolis (63) refers to the construction at the expense of a woman of a crown decorated with images of the emperors, probably the crown of the high priestess of the imperial cult. Another important group of new texts are the Latin curse tablets from Mainz (15), which show great affinity with prayers for justice from the Hellenistic and Roman East. We also single out a long funerary oration from Pantikapaion (17), which assimilates the deceased with Chiron.
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3 The principles explained in Kernos 4 (1991), p. 287-288, and Kernos 7 (1994), p. 287, also apply to this issue. Abbreviations which are not included in the list of abbreviations are those of L’Année Philologique and J.H.M. STRUBBE (ed.), Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum. Consolidated Index for Volumes XXXVI-XLV (1986-1995), Amsterdam, 1999, as well as of later volumes of the SEG. If not otherwise specified, dates are BC. Aneurin Ellis- Evans (Balliol College, Oxford) has improved the English text.
Abbreviations
Ἀρχαιολογικὸ Ἔργο A. MAZARAKIS AINIAN (ed.), Ἀρχαιολογικὸ Ἔργο Θεσσαλίας καὶ Στερεᾶς Θεσσαλίας καὶ Στερεᾶς Ἑλλάδας. Πρακτικὰ Ἐπιστημονικῆς Συνάντησης. Βόλος 27.2.-2.3.2003, Volos, Ἑλλάδας 2006.
AST 23 23. Arastirma Sonuçlari Topalntisi. 30 Mayis-3 haziran 2005, Antalya, Ankara, 2006.
Donna e vita A. BUONAPANE – F. CENERINI (eds.), Donna e vita cittadina nella documentazione epigrafica. Atti del II Seminario sulla condizione femminile nella documentazione epigrafica. Verona, 25-27 marzo 2004, Rome, 2005.
Greek Sacrificial Ritual R. HÄGG – B. ALROTH (eds.), Greek Sacrificial Ritual, Olympian and Chthonian. Proceedings of the Sixth International Seminar on Ancient Greek Cult, Organized by the Department of Classical Archaeology and Ancient History, Göteborg University, 25-27 April 1997, Stockholm, 2005.
Histria VII P. ALEXANDRESCU et al., Histria. Les résultats des fouilles. VII. La zone sacrée d’époque grecque (Fouilles 1915-1989), Bukarest, 2005.
Mélanges Hurst A. KOLDE – A. LUKINOVICH – A.-L. REY (eds.), Κορυφαίῳ ἀνδρί. Mélanges offerts à André Hurst, Geneva, 2005.
Selected Topics
Geographical areas (in the sequence adopted by SEG)
4 Attica: Athens: 4. 19. 27-29. 31. 45. 91. Peloponnesos: Troizenia: Troizen: 66. Epidauros: 45. 87. Messenia: Andania: 19. 28. 36. 98; Messene: 110. Elis: Olympia: 109. Boiotia: 31. 85; Lebadeia: 16; Thebes: 5; Thespiai: 27. 39. Delphi: 45. 96. 103. Phokis: Elateia: 122. Aitolia: Kallipolis: 101. Lokris: Naryx: 67; Physkos: 102. Ionian Islands: Korkyra: 44. Thessaly: Itonos: 62; Larisa: 59. 113. Epeiros: Dodona: 74. Illyria: 44; Bouthrotos: 97; Grammata: 22. Dalmatia: 23. 44. Macedonia: 9. 14. 77. 92. 121; Beroia: 71; Dion: 89-90; Kallindoia: 106; Leukopetra: 119; Pella: 1; Philippi: 18; Thessalonike: 88. Moesia. Histria: 2. 13. 55. North Shore of the Black Sea: Bosporan kingdom: 112; Olbia: 20. 55. 72; Pantikapaion: 17. Delos: 27-28. 40. 45. 56. 105. Mykonos: 19. Rhodes: 19. 100; Lindos: 68. Thera: 27. Kos: 19. 28. 57. Ios: 27. Paros: 27. 54. Peparethos: 37. Andros: 103. Chios: 27. Samos: 85. Thasos: 11. 46-48. 54. 85. Euboia: Zarax: 56. Crete: 84; Gortyn: 19; Knossos: 10. Sicily: 118; Comiso: 11; Leontinoi: 49; Selinous: 60. 91. Italy:
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118; Forum Fulvii: 52; Lokroi Epizephyrioi: 76; Pozzuolo: 82; Rome: 24. Germania: 15. Asia Minor: 30. 117. Karia: Amyzon: 33; Halikarnassos: 32. 64-66. 107; Hyllarima: 116; Keramos: 108; Knidos: 27; Stratonikeia: 7-8; Ouranion: 114. Ionia: Ephesos: 85; Erythrai: 28; Kolophon: 51; Magnesia on the Maeander: 85; Metropolis: 38; Miletos: 3. 19. 55. 85; Priene: 27. 31; Smyrna: 85; Teos: 33. 75. Lydia: 78-81; Sardeis: 33. Mysia: Germe: 53; Pergamon: 27. 75. 85. Phrygia: Aizanoi. 73; Akmonia: 115. Pisidia: Antiocheia: 21. Lykia: 34. 42; Myra: 104; Oinoanda: 86; Rhodiapolis: 63; Xantos: 33. Syria-Palaestina: 30; Gerasa: 99; Sidon: 119. Arabia: Ikaros: 94. Cyprus: Amathous: 6. 61. Kommagene: 43. Arabia: 50. Egypt: 58. 69; Alexandria: 27; Naukratis: 41. 55
5 acclamation: 73
6 afterlife: 24
7 Alexander the Great: 88
8 altar: 8
9 amphictyony: 67 (Delphi). 109 (Olympia)
10 amulet: 12; cf. phylactery
11 animals: cobra: 69; goat: 11; ox: 11; pig: 11. 28; ram: 56; sacrificial: 11. 19. 28; pregnant: 19. 28
12 association, cult: 27. 75. 88
13 asylia: 94
14 banquet: 1. 11. 21. 88. 91
15 benefactor: 48
16 birthday: 51; of emperor: 38
17 calendar: 101 (Lokris)
18 cession of property to gods: 15
19 chthonian, sacrifice: 28. 60. 91
20 confession: 15; confession inscriptions: 35. 76. 78
21 contest: 51. 117. 119; athletic: 108; musical: 75
22 council, cults in: 57
23 crown, priestly: 57. 63
24 cult, emperor: 6. 18. 21. 38. 42. 46. 67. 88. 93. 99. 106. 114. 119; of poets: 27; ruler c.: 33. 51. 65. 119-120
25 cult, founder: 73. 79. 88; introduction of: 10. 40. 54; Italian influence: 97
26 cult personnel: agonothetes: 21. 88. 95. 102. 110. 119; augur: 21; archiereia of the provincial emperor cult, in Macedonia: 93; archiereus: 21; of Hellenistic ruler cult: 33. 119; of civic emperor cult: 88. 119; of provincial emperor cult in Achaia: 110; in Lykia: 42. 86; brabeutes: 21; flamen: 18; hieraphoros: 119; hiereia: 4. 53. 63. 119; of civic emperor cult: 46. 63. 93; hiereus: 21. 53. 57. 79. 88-89. 115. 119; of civic emperor cult: 18. 38; hieromnemon: 54; hieropoios: 54; protanaklites: 21; proxenos: 109; sacerdos: 21. 88; theekolos/theokolos: 67. 109
27 cult regulation: 19. 36. 54. 57. 60
28 curse: 15. 29. 76; see also funerary imprecation, prayer for justice
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29 dedication: 68; of a child: 121; of a slave: 121; by an association: 119; by a herald: 118; by a priest: 89. 119; in commemoration of war victory: 5. 39. 112; for the well-being of an association: 119 for the well-being of a family member: 80. 119; for the well-being of master: 21; for the well-being of the royal family: 61; for the well-being of a member of the imperial family: 46. 88; in expression of gratitude: 42. 119; upon divine command: 8-9. 73; upon an oracle: 43
30 deities: Aphrodite: 2. 6. 13. 40. 44. 55. 61. 66. 99. 119; Akraia 66; Kypria 6; Schoinis 32. Apollon: 37. 41. 65. 73. 92. 96. 99. 116; Delios 55-56; Germenos 53; Ietros 2; Kerdoios 59. 113; Klarios 51; Phoibos 112. Artemis: 8. 19. 21. 48. 99. 101; Agoraia 102; Akraia 88; Delia 54; Ephesia 9; Epikrateia 70; Gourasia 88. Asklepios: 37. 73. 87-88. 99. 119; Sebastos 115; Soter 90. Athena: 4. 87. 99. 102; Ilias 101; Itonia 62; Kranaia 122; Sebaste 115; Skiras 19. Boreus: 2. Charites: 102. Demeter: 19. 36. 72. 99; Chloe 19. Dionysos: 88. 112; Horophoros 88; Kadmeios 119. Dioskouroi: 10. 15. 22. 36; Soteres 50. Eros: 44. Ge: 19. Hekate: 73. Hera: 13. 49. 99; Antheia 19; Boulaia 57. Herakles: 11. 17. 88. 99. Hermaphroditos: 107. Hermes: 115. Hosion kai Dikaion: 73. 88. Kore: 72-73. Leto: 99. Mes: 21; Axiottenos 81. Meter: 73; Epiktetos 73; Motyllene 76; Oreia 42; Theon 63. 72-73. 121. Mousai: 27. Nemesis: 88; Epekoos 21. Nyx: 101. Pan: 97. Pasa: 97. Phorkys: 2. 13. Plouton: 72. Poseidon: 17. 88. 99: Isthmios 66. Rhea: 19. Rhome: 106. 119. Soteira:94. Thea: Andeine 79; Peismatene 53. Themis: Agoraia 102(?). Theoi: 21. 104; Boulaioi 57; Pantes 42. Theos: Epekoos 21; Hypsistos 42. 88; Megas 2. Tyche: 71. Zeus: 13. 32-33. 44. 73. 89. 99. 106. 118; Agoraios 102. 118; Aulaios 53; Boulaios 57; Bronton 73; Dolichenos 43; Hikesios 118; Hypsistos 14; Kassios 44; Keraunios 80. 115; Meilichios 118; Odarios 102, Olympios 73; Orios 118; Philios 1-2; Saotas 39; Sabazios 73; Soter 8. 118.
31 deities: Egyptian: 10. 15. 58. 61. 66. 88; Anatolian: Attis 15; Kybele 15. 53; Mater Magna 15; Roman: Bellona 15; Oriental: Eshmoun 119; Mithras 119
32 deities, assimilation of Greek and foreign god: 119; descent from: 17 (from Herakles and Poseidon). 88 (Alexander from Zeus); dyads: 97; patrons of fertility: 88; of sailors: 22. 50; tribes named after d.: 99
33 devotion: 73
34 disease: 52
35 divination: 16. 43. 74
36 dream: 73
37 emotionality in ritual: 26
38 epiphany: 68. 73
39 epithet, deriving from acclamation: 73
40 exorcism: 12
41 fate: 7
42 fear: 73
43 fertility: 28
44 festival: 95. 117; crowning during: 57; order during: 36
45 festivals: Aktia Kabeiria Kaisareia Pythia: 88 (Thessalonike); Dionysia: 110 (Messene); Echenikeia: 40 (Delos); Eleutheria: 21 (Plataia); Karneia: 36; Maximianeia: 21 (Antiocheia in Pisidia); Paneia: 25 (Delos); Sarapeia Apollonia 63 (Rhodiapolis); Soteria: 25 (Delos, Delphi); Stesileia: 40 (Delos); Thesmophoria: 28. 54; Trophonia: 16 (Lebadeia)
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46 finances, sacred: 85. 96
47 fortune: 71
48 foundation: 21
49 funerary cult: 21. 30. 34. 47. 73. 88; burial of members of associations 88; emotionality in funeral: 26; funerary altar dedicated to a god: 73; imprecation: 21. 73. 81. 86. 104; oration: 17; public funeral: 30. 47
50 gem, magical: 53
51 gladiators: 7. 21. 71. 88
52 grave, protection of: 30. 88. 104; see also funerary imprecation
53 gymnasion: 51
54 healing: 52
55 hero: 5 (Euonymos, Kadmos). 9. 13. 16 (Trophonios). 17. 20 (Achilles). 23 (Diomedes). 77 (Auloneites). 88 (Aineias); sacrifice to: 91
56 heroization: 30. 34. 89
57 Homer: 27
58 identity: 36
59 inventory: 96
60 Jews: magic: 12
61 kinship, mythological: 31. 59
62 lex sacra: see cult regulation
63 libation: 1. 58
64 magic: 15; see also amulet, curse, exorcism, prayer for justice
65 manumission, sacred: 9. 102. 121
66 music: 3
67 mystery cult: 36. 97-98
68 myth: 17. 59. 64. 66-67. 88. 107; mythological kinship: 31
69 name, theophoric: 111
70 oath: 36
71 Orpheus: 2
72 Panhellenion: 67
73 perirrhanterion: 87
74 personification: 101 (Nyx)
75 phylactery: 52. 82
76 piety: 35. 115
77 politics and religion: 25. 36. 94
78 prayer: 57; for justice: 15. 69. 76
79 priesthood, hereditary: 79; for life: 21. 63. 115; sale of: 57; list of priests: 66. 116
80 private cult: 40
81 procession: 36. 120
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82 punishment, divine: 9. 54. 73. 78
83 purification: 28. 60. 91. 118
84 relics: 68
85 rituals: see cession of property to gods, libation, sacrifice, supplication, transition rite
86 river-god: 105. 111
87 sacrifice: 11. 19. 28. 36. 51. 91. 100. 120; of pregnant animals: 19; plunging of animals into the sea 100; consumption of meat on the spot: 91; distribution of meat: 57; see also animals
88 sacrilege: 109
89 sanctuary: 6. 45; federal: 62. 122
90 sanctuary, administration: 45; boundary stone: 6. 8. 41; building activities: 45. 48. 84. 114; deposits of money: 96; finances: 45. 96; foundation of: 15; keeping of livestock: 54; land belonging to: 11; order in: 54. 109; prohibition of entering a s.: 54; protection of: 54. 105
91 slave: 15. 21-22
92 soul: 76
93 statue: 57. 115; removal of: 114
94 supplication: 36. 38
95 theoria: 103
96 transition rite: 19
97 vision: 73
98 vow: 50
99 water: 105
100 women, participation in cult: 11. 54; priestesses: 93
Greek words (a selection)
101 acclamations: εἷς θεὸς ἐν οὐρανῷ 73; μέγα τὸ Ὅσιον, μέγα τὸ Δίκαιον 73 102 amulet: σῷζε 82 103 associations: ἀρχιγάλλαρος 88, ἀρχικρανεάρχης 88; ἀρχιλαμπαδηφόρος 88; ἀρχιμαγαρεύς ἀθύτου 88; ἀρχιμύστης 88; ἀρχισυνάγωγος 88; βακχεῖον 88; γάλλαρος 88; ἐξεταστής 88; ἐπιμελητής 88; θρησκεία 88; μαγαρεύς 88; μήτηρ σπείρας 88; ναρθηκοφόρος 88; νεβριαφόρος 88; νεβρίνη 88; παλαιομύστης 88; σπεῖρα 88; συνήθεις 88; συνκλῖται 88 104 banquets: δοχαί 88; συνκλῖται 88 105 cult personnel: βραβευτής 21; πρωτανακλιτής 21 106 curse: ἁμαρτωλὸς ἔστω θεοῖς 104; ἁμαρτωλὸς ἔστω θεοῖς χθονίοις/καταχθονίοις 104; ἀνατίθημι 29; ἀνιαρίζω 76; τοῦ Ἀξιοττηνοῦ μηδέποτε εἵλεος τύχοιτο 81; Ἑκάτης μελαίνης περιπέσοιτο συνφορᾷ 73; ἐπέρχομαι 29; ἔστω ἀσεβὴς θεοῖς καταχθονίοις 104; ἔσται αὐτῷ πρὸς τὸν Θεόν 21; ἔστω ἐπάρατος θεοῖς καὶ θεαῖς 86; καταδῶ 29; καταδηννύω 29
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107 dedications: ἄπαργμα 13; δῶρον 23; ἐμνήσθη 22; ἐπαγγειλάμενος 73; ἐπιδείκνυμι τῆς ἑαυτῶν σωτηρίας εὐχήν 21; εὐχαριστήριον 119; εὐχήν 21. 53. 73. 80; κατ᾿ ἐπιταγήν 8-9; κατ᾿ εὐχήν 73; ἱερός 13. 23; λυσίπονα 101; τυχοῦσα τᾶς εὐχᾶς 101; ὑπὲρ εὐχῆς 73; ὑπὲρ τῆς θυγατρὸς σωτηρίας 80; ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας τῶν κυρίων 21 108 divine punishment: αἰτουμένη 9; ἐνθυμιστόν 54; ἐπιζητέω 78 109 epithets: ἅγιος 119 (Asklepios); ἀγοραῖος/α 102 (Artemis?, Themis?, Zeus); ἀκραία 88 (Artemis); ἀνθεία 19 (Hera); αὐλαῖος 53 (Zeus); βουλαῖος 57; εἱλαστήριος 38 (Augustus); ἐπήκοος 9 (ἥρως). 21 (Nemesis). 21 (Theos); ἐπίκτητος 73 (Meter Thea); ἐπικράτεια 70 (Artemis); εὐεργέτης 119 (Antiochos III); ἱκέσιος 118 (Zeus); κεραύνιος 80. 115 (Zeus); κερδῷος 59. 113 (Apollon); κύριος 73 (Asklepios); μέγας/μεγάλη 6 (Aphrodite). 12 (theos). 73 (Hosion kai Dikaion, Zeus); μέγιστος/η 58 (Thriphis); μειλίχιος 118 (Zeus); ξένιος 118 (Zeus); ὄπισθε 28; ὄριος 118 (Zeus); οὐράνιος 115 (theoi); πάτριος 21 (Mes); σαώτας 39 (Zeus); σεβαστός/σεβαστή 115 (Asklepios, Athena); σχοινίς 32 (Aphrodite); σώτειρα 94; σωτήρ 50 (Dioskouroi). 90 (Asklepios). 119 (Antiochos III); ὕψιστος 14 (Zeus). 42 (Theos); χλόη 19 (Demeter); ὡροφόρος 88 (Dionysos) 110 funerary cult: ἥρως 21. 34. 73. 81. 86. 88; θριγκός 88; τρινχός 88 111 magic: αβλαναθαναλβα 82; Ἀβρασάξ 53; ακραμαχαμαρι 82; ανοχ 52; διαφύλαξον 12; Ἰαω 53. 82; ὁρκίζω 12; Σαβαώ 82; σεμεσειλαμ 82; σενσεγεν 82; φαρανγης 82 112 piety: θεοσεβής 73; θεραπεία 57; θρησκεία 88; ἱερός 73; τεκμορεύω 21 113 prayer: ἐπεύχομαι 57 114 sacrifice: ἀποφορά 91; ἐναγίζω 91; ἐνατεύω 11; θύω 91; ἱπποκαθέσια 100 115 sanctuaries: ἀκτή 119; ἱερὸς τόπος 6
Bulletin
116 1) I. AKAMATIS, “Πανεπιστημιακὴ ἀνασκαφὴ Ἀγορᾶς Πέλλας, 2005”, AEMTh 19 (2005) [2007], p. 407-426 [SEG LV 705]: Ed. pr. of a black kantharos found in the Agora of Pella (Hellenistic period). The vase was inscribed before firing with the text ‘of Zeus Philios’ (p. 422; cf. SEG XLV 780). [The inscription shows that this kantharos was used for libations for Zeus Philios, the patron of friendship, during banquets.]
117 2) P. ALEXANDRESCU – M. ALEXANDRESCU VIANU, “Histoire et stratigraphie”, in Histria VII, p. 51-156: The authors present an overview of the deities, who were worshipped in the ‘sacred area’ of Histria (6th-1st cent.), on the basis of epigraphic finds: Aphrodite, Boreus, Apollon Ietros, Phorkys, Theos Megas, and Zeus. The text [Ὀρ]φέωι on a base (p. 126f., Hellenistic) may be a dedication to Orpheus.
118 3) N.A. АLMAZOVA, “Προκιθαριστής”, Hyperboreus 12 (2006), p. 261-278: After discussing the various connotations of pro- in composite words, A. argues that pro- in prokitharistes in Miletos (I.Didyma 182 and 265; MDAI(I) 15 [1965], p. 122) designates a leading citharist performing during ceremonies.
119 4) N. ANDRIOLO, “Chrysis, sacerdotessa di Athena: IG, II/III2, 1136”, in Donna e vita, p. 439-445: Commentary of an honorary decree of Delphi for Chrysis, priestess of Athena (IG II² 1136, 117 BC) [no new insights].
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120 5) V.L. ARAVANTINOS, “A New Inscribed Kioniskos from Thebes”, ABSA 101 (2006), p. 369-377: Ed. pr. of a fragmentary dedicatory inscription (epigram?) inscribed on a small column that supported a dedication (a tripod?). It was found in a deposit of the late Archaic period at Pyri, a suburb of Thebes [cf. SEG LIV 518]. The votive was dedicated to an anonymous deity or hero (perhaps Kadmos or the Boiotian hero Euonymos) in commemoration of the military activities of Theban troops during the invasion of Attika by Kleomenes and his allies in 506 BCE (Herod., V, 77). The text seems to refer to the temporary occupation of Oinoe, Phyle, and Eleusis (possibly Hysiai too) by the Theban troops and the liberation of captives from Chalkis. This campaign ended in a humiliating defeat of the Thebans, for which the Athenians erected a victory monument on the Acropolis (IG I³ 501). This dedication was not a riposte to the Athenian monument, but probably an effort by the troops to save face.
121 6) P. AUPERT – A. HERMARY, “Nouveaux documents sur le culte d’Aphrodite à Amathonte”, BCH 130 (2006), p. 83-99: Ed. pr. of an inscription (Amathous, 79 CE), which records the restoration of a sanctuary of Titus and Aphrodite by the governor of Cyprus, Lucius Bruttius Maximus (Αὐτοκράτορι Τίτωι Καίσαρι Οὐεσπασιανῷ Σεβαστῷ καὶ μεγάληι θεᾷ Κύπρου Ἀφροδείτηι τόπον ἱερὸν ἀποκατέστησε τὸν ἐντὸς τῶν στηλῶν ὄντα Λούκιος Βρούττιος Μάξιμος ἀνθύπατος, ἔτους δευτέρου). A second inscription, published by T.B. MITFORD (“Religious Documents from Roman Cyprus”, JHS 66 [1946], p. 40-42), refers to activities of the same governor in connection with the same sanctuary; however, the second text mentions Aphrodite first and uses the verb καθιέρωσεν ([Κ]υπρί]αι] Ἀφροδε[ί]τηι καὶ Αὐτοκράτορ[ι] Τίτῳ Καίσαρι [Οὐ]εσπασιαν[ῶι Σεβ]αστῶι τό[πον ἱε]ρὸν τὸν ἐντὸς [τ]ῶν στηλ[ῶν ὄν]τα Λούκιος Βρούττιος Μάξιμος ἀνθύπατος, ἔτους δευτέρο[υ]). The editors plausibly assume that besides the sanctuary of Aphrodite on the acropolis, there was a second sanctuary near the north gate, where a marble head of Aphrodite (?) was found. This sanctuary (ἱερὸς τόπος) was damaged during the earthquake of 76 or 77 CE. The governor restored the sanctuary and dedicated it to the joined cult of Aphrodite and the emperor. The stelai mentioned in these texts refer to boundary markers of the sanctuary.
122 7) S. AYDAŞ, “Gladiatorial Inscriptions from Stratonikeia in Caria”, EA 39 (2006), p. 105-109: Ed. pr. of six epitaphs of gladiators from Stratonikeia (3rd cent. CE), where gladiatorial combats were already attested (I.Stratonikeia 303, 1015, 1025). We single out the funerary epigram for Droseros, who was killed ‘through a new dance of Fate’ (καινοῖς ὀρχήμασι μοίρης) by the gladiator Achilles. [An interesting piece information is that the gladiator Achilles performed ‘first on the stage, now in the stadia’ (ὁ πρὶν ἐν σκηναῖς, νῦν δ᾿ ἐν σταδίοισ[ιν]); Achilles was an actor or a mime (Homeristes), before he became a gladiator; a good case of the performance of gladiatorial games in stadia is Aphrodisias: K. WELCH, “The Stadium of Aphrodisias”, AJA 102 (1998), p. 559-561.]
123 8) S. AYDAŞ, “Three Inscriptions from Stratonikeia in Caria”, EA 39 (2006), p. 111-112: Ed. pr. of two inscriptions from Stratonikeia (Imperial period): a stone (boundary stone) [or altar?)] naming Zeus Soter and Karios (1) and a dedication to Artemis upon divine command (2: Ἀρτέμιδι κατὰ ἐπιταγήν). 124 9) S. BABAMOVA, Epigrafski spomenici od Republika Makedonija datirani spored Makedonskata provinciska era [Epigraphic Monuments of the Republic of Macedonia Dated According to the Macedonian Provincial Era], Skopje, 2005: B. presents a corpus of 83 inscriptions, mostly from the territory of FYROM. In the introduction she briefly discusses the local cults.
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Since most of the texts have been included in IG X 2.2 (summarized in EBGR 1999, 181), we do not present this publication in detail. But there are several inscriptions (not in IG X 2.2), which deserve comment. A stele from Herakleia Lynkestis contains a dedication to Artemis Ephesia (35, 209 CE), whose cult is attested in Macedonia (IG X 2.2, 188 and 233). [B. presents only this dedication, inscribed on the lower part of the stele; but on the top, the stele contained a second (perhaps a third) dedication. We read part of the text on the top from the photo. One recognizes a date, a reference to a slave (L. 3: πεδάριον = παιδάριον), and the name of Artemis; it seems to be the dedication of a slave to Artemis Ephesia; for dedications of slaves in Macedonia see infra no. 121. The second text can be read in part; after a date (209 CE), a woman reports: Κλαυδία Στρατονείκη | ἐτουμένη ὑπὸ θεᾶ[ς] | Ἀρτέμιδος Ἑφεσία[ς] | ΑΠΟΔΙΔΩΚΡΑΤΗΣ|ΟΝΤ[---]; ‘I, Claudia Stratonike, having received a request from Artemis Ephesia, give --(?). Stratonike was the victim of divine punishment (ἐτουμένη = αἰτουμένη). The closest parallel is another dedication to Artemis Ephesia from Pelagonia (IG X 2.2, 233 lines 3-5: ἐνωχλημέν[η ὑπὸ]| Ἀρτέμιδος Ἐφεσίας [τῆς] | ἐν Κολοβαίσῃ; cf. the comments in EBGR 1999, 181.] B. presents the ed. pr. of a dedication to Heros Epekoos upon divine command (κατ᾿ ἐπιταγήν; 83, 168 CE).
125 10) M.W. BALDWIN BOWSKY, “From Capital to Colony: Five New Inscriptions from Roman Crete”, ABSA 101 (2006), p. 385-426: Ed. pr. of two Latin inscriptions from Roman Knossos. An inscribed block names Castor in the dative (3, 1st cent. CE); this is the first attestation of the cult of the Dioskouroi in Knossos; the Dioskouroi are, however, represented in a dedicatory relief; the cult of Castor and Pollux may have been introduced by Italian colonists. B. discusses in detail the evidence for the cult of Castor and Pollux in the Roman East. Another inscription (2, 1st cent. CE) seems to name Isis; B. comments on the diffusion of Egyptian cults in Crete.
126 11) B. BERGQUIST, “A Re-Study of Two Thasian Instances of ἐνατεύειν”, in Greek Sacrificial Ritual, p. 61-70 [SEG LV 971-972]: B. discusses the meaning of the term ἐνατεύω, which is attested in Thasos in a cult regulation for the cult of Herakles (c. 450 BCE; IG XII Suppl. 414 = LSCG Suppl. 63) and in a lease of a real estate belonging to Herakles (early 3rd cent.; IG XII Suppl. 353). The cult regulation, which forbids the sacrifice of goats and pigs, the participation of women, athletic contests, and priestly perquisites, uses this term in a negation: sacrifices are to be performed not according to the ‘ninth-part sacrifice’. According to B., this negation is to be understood as a prescription: sacrifices should be followed by feasting. The aim of this regulation, originating in a private cult, was to relieve the cult from priestly perquisites and expensive contests. The other text is very fragmentary According to the traditional edition, lines 9-11 refer to a sacrifice (βοῦν | [τέλειον τῶι ἱερεῖ τοῦ Ἡρακλέος παρέξει ὅπως ἐ]νατευθῆι· ὅ,τι δ᾿ ἂν ἀπόσταθμον γίνηται τῶμ μὲν | [- – -]ει τοῖς πολεμάρχοις; ‘a full-grown ox shall be delivered to the priest of Herakles so that ---; what becomes weighed off, partly --- to the polemarchs’). B. argues that in this text too [ἐ]νατευθῆι was preceded by a negation; the ox delivered to the priest by the lessee of the garden was not to be sacrificed according to a ‘ninth-part sacrifice’; this means that a sacrificial feasting was to be performed. [The text is heavily restored (two thirds are missing), and it is not at all certain that there was a negation before [ἐ]νατευθῆι (a conditional sentence is also possible). It is not even certain that this is a clause prescribing a sacrifice. It is preceded by a clause concerning the dung of animals (lines 6-8; cf. line 17) and the misdemeanour of slaves (lines 8-9), and followed by a clause concerning trees (lines 12-13); the context
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is not that of a cult prescription, but that of a regulation concerning the proper use of the κῆπος by the leasee. The interpretation of ἀπόσταθμον as ‘weighed off’ (or ‘weight remaining after deduction esp. of the part of a victim reserved for the god’, LSJ Supp.) is debatable. This word belongs to a group of composita with ἀπό (ἀποπολίτης, ἀπόκοσμος, ἀπόδρομος, ἀπόδομος, ἀπέταιρος, etc.; cf. SEG LI 903 app. cr.), in which the preposition ἀπό indicates removal/rejection/distance from the second component of the word; consequently, ἀπόσταθμον may not be ‘away from the σταθμόν’ (the weight), but ‘away from the σταθμός’, i.e. away from the stable or the standing place for animals; this may be a clause concerning run-away animals (‘whichever animal leaves the stable, etc.’). The riddles concerning ἐνατεύειν have not been solved by this article.]
127 12) G. BEVILACQUA – F. DE ROMANIS, “Nuova iscrizione esorcistica da Comiso”, RAL n.s. 9, 14 (2003), p. 389-402 [BE 2005, 91; SEG LIII 990]: Ed. pr. of a golden amulet found in the baths at Camiso in eastern Sicily (5th cent. CE). The amulet contains the exorcistic prayer of Schybos, son of Marylleina. It begins with the exorcistic formula ὁρκίζω σε τὸν μέγαν θεὸν ζῶ(ν)τα (lines 1-2), followed by seven divine names and concluding with the formula διαφύλαξον. Seven Jewish divine names appear in ascending order (formula: τὸν ἐπάνω τοῦ θεοῦ): Sabao, Iao, Eloeon, Elan, Marmario, Iakob/Iaboch, On[.]a (τὸν Ὤν[τ]α = τὸν <ὄ>ν[τ]α?). This sequence, hitherto unattested, reflects the ascendance to Heaven. The amulet should be put against a Jewish-Christian background.
128 13) I. BÎRZESCU, “Les graffiti”, in Histria VII, p. 414-432: B. presents a catalogue of the graffiti and dipinti found in the ‘sacred area’ of Histria. Except for a tile dedicated to Aphrodite as ἄπαργμα (G8 = I.Histriae 101), the other texts were written on vases. Some of them bear dedicatory inscriptions addressed to Zeus (G1-6), Hera (G7), Phorkys (G9), and Heros (G10-11). Two vases are designated as ἱερή (G11-12). Two dipinti with the letter Θ (G24-25) may refer to vases made for a sanctuary. [For a summary of these texts see id., “Histria. Graffiti din ‘zona sacră’ dedicaţii către divinitaţi”, SCIVA 54-56 (2003-2005), p. 201-210.]
129 14) V. BITRAKOVA GROZDANOVA, “Sur le culte des Zeus Hypsistos en Macédoine”, Živa Antika 56 (2006), p. 73-80: Ed. pr. of a dedication to Zeus Hypsistos (Marvinci, area of Doberos or Idomene?, ca. 150-200 AD).
130 15) J. BLÄNSDORF, “Cybèle et Attis dans les tablettes de defixio inédites du Mayence”, CRAI (2005), p. 669-692: B. reports on the discovery of 34 lead tablets in a sanctuary hosting temples of Isis Panthea and Mater Magna (Kybele) in Mainz 1999. The sanctuary was founded by an imperial liberta and a slave in the 1st cent. CE. B. presents the content of several of these tablets (late 1st/early 2nd cent.). With these texts, written in Latin, the victims of injustice requested revenge, addressing their payers to Mater Magna, (p. 673: rogo te, domina Mater Magna, ut tu me vindices; p. 674: Mater deum, tu persequeris per terras per [maria] ...; p. 678: Mater Magna, te rogo p[e]r [t]ua sacra et numen tuum), Attis, who is associated with Castor and Pollux (p. 680: bone sancte Atthis Tyranne, adsi(s), aduenias Liberali iratus; per omnia te rogo, domine, per tuum Castorem, Pollucem, per cistas penetrales), and Attis and Magna Mater (p. 683: in megaro eum rogo te, Mt
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(p. 678: Gemella fiblas meas qualis sustulit). The victims of injustice wished their opponents to die (p. 672: ‘their members should dissolve as this piece of lead dissolves, so that they may die’; p. 680: malum exitum; p. 686: exitum malum), to suffer mental disease (p. 680: des ei malam mentem), to fail in their undertakings (p. 673: omnia quidquid agit, quidquid aginat, omnia illi auersa sint; ut sal et acqua illi eueniat), to experience the mutilation of the Galli (Kybele’s followers), the bellonari (the priests of Bellona), and the magali or magili, unknown priests (p. 674: quomodo galli, bellonari, maga[l]i sibi sanguin[em] feruentem fundunt ...; cf. p. 678: quomodo galli se secarunt; p. 686: uti Galli Bellonariue absciderunt conciderunte se), to be excluded from the circle of men (p. 686: p. 686: nec illi in numero hominum sunt, neque ille sit), to lose fortune and reputation (p. 686: sic et illi siccet fama, fides, fortuna, faculitas), and their death to be observed by the people (p. 678: ut exitum tuum populus spectet; cf. p. 680: exitum quarum populus spectet). One of the longest texts (p. 674) requests that the culprits confess their crime (et dicat se admisisse ne[fa]s) and promises reward (d[e]mando tibi re[ligione] ut me uotis condamnes et ut laetus libens ea tibi referam, si de eo exitum malum faceris); two other texts threaten that their adversaries shall never find redemption (p. 678: nec se possint redimere; p. 680: neque se possit redimere). One text is explicitly designated as a defixio (p. 684: devotum defictum illum membra), another uses the expression in hac tabula depono (p. 686). [These texts are of great significance for the study of ancient magic. They are excellent examples of prayers for justice, a group of texts that B. has not considered in his brief report. There are close parallels from Spain and Britain. But, surprisingly, the closest parallels for the confession, are the texts from Knidos that request the adversary to come to the sanctuary and confess his crime (EBGR 1994/95, 362). The promise of reward recalls the ritualised cession of disputed property to gods, which is attested in confession inscriptions and prayers for justice (see EBGR 2004, 44); see also infra no 76.]
131 16) P. BONNECHÈRE, Trophonios de Lébadée. Cultes et mythes d’une cité béotienne au miroir de la mentalité antique, Leiden, 2003 [BE 2007, 311; SEG LV 555]: Based on the literary and epigraphic sources, B. presents a systematic study of the sanctuary of Trophonios in Lebadeia, the rituals, the oracular consultation (with a list of individuals who are known to have consulted the oracle), and the myths, the festival of the Trophonia, and the cults of Lebadeia.
132 17) G.W. BOWERSOCK – C.P. JONES, “A New Inscription from Panticapaeum”, ZPE 156 (2006), p. 117-128 [SEG LV 862]: A fragmentary inscription from Pantikapaion, containing a long funerary oration for an officer in the service of a Bosporan king, was first published by Y.G. VINOGRADOV and S.A. SHESTAKOV (VDI 2005.2, p. 42-44; cf. S.Y. SAPRYKIN, ibid., p. 45-80). B.-J. make this text better known, presenting a new critical edition and avoiding the many rather speculative restorations of the ed. pr. They demonstrate that the anonymous officer had served under Sauromates II (late 2nd cent. CE). The new text (47 lines) is of great interest for the study of the genre of funerary orations. As regards its significance for Greek religion, we mention the designation of the deceased officer as a hero (line 20: ὁ μὲν γὰρ μέγας ἥρως), the comparison of his relation to the king with that of the Centaur Chiron to Achilles (lines 22-24: Χεί]|ρων ὁ Κένταυρος τὸν Ἀχιλλέα ΜΕΓΑ[-----]|ΨΑΜΕΝΟΣ τὸν αὐτὸν οἶμαι τρόπ[ον ------]; cf. line 28: οὐδ᾿ ἐξεπαίδευσεν μόνον), and the reference to the descent (of the king?) from Poseidon and Herakles (lines 26-27: [ἀφ᾿ Ἡρακλέους]| καὶ Ποσειδῶνος γενόμενον.
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133 18) C. BRÉLAZ – R. FREI-STOLBA – A.D. RIZAKIS – A.G. ZANIS, “De nouveaux notables dans la colonie de Philippes”, BCH 130 (2006), p. 519-547: Ed. pr. of an honorary inscription from Philippi (527-530 no. 2) for a priest of Antoninus (flamen imperatoris Antonini).
134 19) J. BREMMER, “The Sacrifice of Pregnant Animals”, in Greek Sacrificial Ritual, p. 155-163: B. urges to consider the sacrifice of pregnant animals as part of a ‘symbolic system’. Adducing cult regulations from Athens (IG I³ 250 line 30; IG II² 949 line 7; SEG XXXIII 147 lines 38 and 44; LSCG 18 E 16-21; 20 B 12 and 48-49; 28 line 16; LSCG Suppl. 19 line 92), Andania (LSCG 65 lines 33 and 68), Rhodes (LSCG Suppl. 95), Mykonos (LSCG 96 lines 15-17), Kos (LSCG 151 B 3; Iscr.Cos ED 241 line 3), Gortyn (LSCG 146), and Miletos (LSAM 41 line 6), he distinguishes between two types of sacrifice of pregnant animals: 1) sacrifice offered to goddesses with ‘abnormal cults’, such as Demeter Chloe, Ge and Rhea in Athens, and Demeter in Andania, Delos, Mykonos, Kos, Rhodes, and Gortyn; 2) sacrifice offered during the transitional period between youth and adulthood, in connection with the cult of Hera Antheia in Miletos (LSAM 41 line 6), Artemis in Patmos (SGO I 01/21/0), and Athena Skiras in Athens.
135 20) S. BUYSKYKH, “The Beykush Sanctuary of Achilles from the Greek Colonisation Period in the Lower Bug Region”, in J. BOUZEK – L. DOMARADZKA (eds.), The Culture of Thracians and their Neighbours. Proceedings of the International Symposium in Memory of Prof. Mieczyslaw Domaradzki, with a Round Table “Archaeological Map of Bulgaria”, Oxford, 2005, p. 201-207: Summary of the information provided by graffiti on the cult of Achilles at Bejkuš near Olbia.
136 21) M.A. BYRNE – G. LABARRE, Nouvelles inscriptions d’Antioche de Pisidie d’après les Notebooks de W.M. Ramsay, Bonn, 2006 (IGSK 67) [BE 2006, 409]: Ed. pr. of 241 Greek and Latin inscriptions copied between 1882 and 1928 by W.M. Ramsay in Antiocheia in Pisidia, mostly in the sanctuary of Mes Askainos. Cults: The most important cult in Antiocheia was that of Mes (11: θεὸς πάτριος Μής). Several fragments record the names of individuals, who made contributions to the cult of Mes in expression of devotion (τεκμορεύσας, τεκμόρειος; 14-27) [cf. EBGR 2004, 159 and 166]. The officials of this association of worshippers included βραβευταί (16 and 21) and πρωτανακλιταί (16; connected with a ritual banquet) [cf. the συνκλῖται in the cult of Theos Hypsistos in Macedonia; see infra no 88]. Dedications: Dedications are addressed to Mes (32-40; nos. 35-37 with the expression τεκμορεύσας), Nemesis Epekoos (31), Theoi (28-29), Theos Epekoos (30). A dedication was made by a slave for the rescue of his masters (3; ὑπὲρ σωτηρίας τῶν κυρίων). Many dedications were made in fulfilment of vows (εὐχήν: 28-30, 32, 34, 36, 39-40; we note the unusual expression ἐπιδειξάμεθα τῆς ἑα[υ]τῶν σωτηρίας εὐχήν in no. 30). Cult officials: Several inscriptions mention priests (41-43, 47b?, 48, 64; cf. 163: sacerdos) and a high priest of Mes for life (11). An inscription, which mentions an augur and priest (9), probably refers to the agonothetes C. Ulpius Baebianus, who also served as augur (12). Festivals-contests: There are several references to the agonothetai of the contest Maximianeia (8, 11), one of whom served for life (12); a small fragment records a victory of a boy in the pankration (13). A fragmentary honorary inscription for a benefactor mentions the organisation of gladiatorial combats (169: [munus ve]nation(um) et g[ladiat(orum)). The existence of gladiatorial games is also attested by Greek inscriptions mentioning φαμιλίαι μονομάχων belonging to high priests and priestesses (M. TAŞLIALAN, “Pisidia Antiokheia’sı 1999 yili çalışmaları”, in 11. Müze çalışmaları ve kurtama kazılari sempozyumu, 24-26 Nisan 2000, Denizli, 2001, p. 134-146). Imperial cult: A Latin dedication to Tiberius (147). Foundations:
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An epitaph mentions Artemis (75). [The eds. suspect that the stele was erected for someone, who exercised a function in the cult of Artemis. But [κατέλειπ[--] (L. 5) must refer to a bequest of money probably for the cult of Artemis (L. 6: [--] Ἀρτέμιδος [--])]. Funerary cult: An epitaph (94) designates the occupants of a grave as ἥρωες (κατεσκεύασαν τοῖς ἥρω[σι]). Christian funerary imprecations use the traditional formula ἔσται αὐτῷ πρὸς τὸν Θεόν (112-115). Varia: We note the designation of a benefactor as πρῶτος τῶν Ἑλλήνων (2) [an expression used for the winner of the race at the Eleutheria in Plataia].
137 22) P. CABANES – J. REBOTON – A. HAJDARI – S. SHPUZA, “L’expédition épigraphique à Grammata”, BCH 130 (2006), p. 817-821: Ed. pr. of two commemorative, rock-cut inscriptions at Grammata in Illyria. Numerous texts of the ἐμνήσθη-type were written by sailors and travellers, who attributed the safe end of a dangerous journey to the protection of the Dioskouroi. The first text was inscribed by a Tryphon together with fellow slaves (ἐμνήσθη Τρύφων παρὰ τοῖς Διοσκόροις μετ[ὰ τ]ῶν συν[δούλω]ν Μάρ[κου, Κερ]κηνί[ου]); the second text was inscribed by a man on behalf of his sister (ἐπ᾿ ἀγαθός· ἐμνήσθη παρὰ τοῖς Διοσκόροις Τεισέμενος τῆς ἀδελφῆς Ἀνατολῆς) [see now the publication of all the material by A. HADJARI et al., “Les inscriptions de Grammata (Albanie)”, REG 120 (2007), p. 353-394].
138 23) S. ČAČE – L. ŠEŠELJ, “Finds from the Diomedes’ Sanctuary on the Cape Ploča: New contributions to the Discussion about the Hellenistic period on the East Adriatic”, in M. SANADER (ed.), Illyrica antiqua ob honorem Duje Rendíc-Miočević, Zagreb, 2005, p. 163-186 [BE 2007, 61; SEG LV 658]: The authors mention the discovery of more than 500 fragments of pottery with graffiti in a sanctuary of Diomedes at Punta Planka (promonturium Diomedis) in Dalmatia (cf. EBGR 1999, 128). The graffiti were usually inscribed on drinking vases dedicated to Diomedes by individuals with Greek names. The dedicants were sailors (cf. συνναῦται), probably from the island of Issa. Three fragments attest the formula Διομήδ(ε)ι δῶρον, one the formula ἱερόν. 139 24) É. CAIRON, “Une vie bienheureuse dans l’au-delà. L’épigramme pour Protê, IGUR, 3, n° 1146”, REG 119 (2006), p. 776-781: C. republishes the funerary epigram for Prote, who died at the age of seven, set up by her father (Rome, 3rd cent. CE). The great interest of this epigram lies in the fact that it presents a very detailed description of the afterlife and the underworld: ‘Prote, you have not died; you are gone to a better place and you live in the islands of the blessed, in great abundance; there, in the Elysian plain, you rejoice leaping among the delicate flowers, away from all evil. Neither winter nor heat bring you sorrow; illness does not disturb you; you know neither hunger nor thirst. But you also have no longing for the life of humans. For you live blameless in pure light, indeed close to Olympus’. C. provides literary and some epigraphic parallels for this image of afterlife.
140 25) C.B. CHAMPION, “In Defence of Hellas: The Antigonid Soteria and Paneia at Delos and the Aetolian Soteria at Delphi”, AJAH NS 3/4 (2004/05) [2007], p. 72-88: C. argues that Antigonos Gonatas responded to the announcement of the Aitolian Soteria in Delphi in 246 BCE by establishing the festivals Soteria and Paneia in Delos in 245 BCE. These festivals commemorated his victory over the Gauls in 278/7, not his more recent naval victory over a Ptolemaic fleet.
141 26) A. CHANIOTIS, “Familiensache: Demonstration von Zusammengehörigkeit im altgriechischen Grabritual”, in R. REICHMAN (ed.), “Der Odem des Menschen ist eine Leichte
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des Herrn”. Aharon Agus zum Gedenken, Heidelberg, 2006, p. 205-209: C. discusses expressions of emotionality in funerary rituals: the mention of the fact that a family member or a friend was personally involved in the burial in grave inscriptions (SGO I 01/12/17; 02/03/01; IV 17/16/01; 18/01/23; 22/37/01); the touching of the corpse, stressed in some funerary epigrams (SGO I 02/09/34; 05/01/46; II 08/05/06; 09/05/14; 09/12/04; 10/01/01; 10/05/02; IV 22/37/01); and the interruption of a family burial by the people, the abduction of the corpse (ἁρπάζειν), and the transformation of the burial of a benefactor into a public burial (I.Knidos 71; SEG XLV 1502; L 1109; Philostratos, Vitae sophist. XV 20; cf. EBGR 2000, 91). Normative interventions attempted to limit the circle of those who were polluted by coming into contact with the corpse to the closest family members. In private monuments, emphatic mention of physical contact with the corpse in the relevant sources aimed at demonstrating emotional connection with a family member; the transformation of the burial of a benefactor to a public funeral aimed at creating the illusion that the benefactor and the people constituted a virtual family.
142 27) D. CLAY, Archilochos Heros. The Cult of Poets in the Greek Polis, Washington, DC, 2005 [SEG LV 292, 562-564, 890, 910, 912, 940-941, 956, 973, 1126, 1269, 1273, 1276, 1334, 2051]: Based on an exhaustive collection of the relevant literary, epigraphic, and archaeological evidence, C. presents a thorough study of the cult of poets and posthumous honours awarded to them. The largest part of the book is dedicated to the best known cult, that of Archilochos in Paros (9-62, 104-124: SEG XV 517; IG XII 5, 445). The evidence for the cult of Homer is also collected (p. 136-143), especially in Ios (142: IG XII 5, 15), Chios (140f.: Kaibel, EG 860; SEG XXX 1073), possibly Delos (Homereion: I.Délos 443 Bb 147, 178 BCE; p. 141), Notion (142: Homereion), Pergamon (88f. and 137f.: I.Pergamon 203), and Alexandria [for Delos, see EBGR 2003, 49. In the case of Chios, according to a restoration of SEG XXX 1073 lines 34-36 (A. CHANIOTIS, Historie und Historiker in den griechischen Inschriften, Stuttgart, 1988, p. 94 and 988f.: διὰ τὴμ περιγεγονυῖαν τῆι πόλει δόξ[αν ἀπὸ τοῦ ποιητοῦ] ... [εἰς κατα]|σκευὴμ βωμοῦ ταῖς Μούσαις καὶ [Ὁμήρωι]) this decree refers to an altar for the worship of the Muses and Homer]. Other poets discussed by C. include Pindar (p. 78: IG II² 8883 = GV 894), Sophocles, worshipped as Dexion in Athens (p. 78f. and 151: IG II² 1252-1253), Poseidippos of Kassandreia (p. 150: IG II² 1320 LL. 14/15; 1331; I.Délos 2486), Poseidippos of Pella (p. 84-86 and 150: SEG XLII 691 b), Arideiktes or Rhodes (86f. and 129f.: GVI 1451), Antigonos of Knidos (p. 84 and 129/130. I.Knidos 301). Clay also discusses the cult of Bias of Priene (131f.: I.Priene 111, 113, and 117), the Mouseion founded by Epikteta on Thera (72-74: IG XII 3, 330) and the cult of the athlete Theogenes in Thasos (p. 69-71 and 125f.: LSCG Suppl. 72). Following P. Roesch, C. suspects that a list of members of a cult association in Thespiai (SEG XXXII 503; c. 400-350; pp. 87 and 153) is connected with the cult of the poet Thamyris (cf. line 2: θαμυριδδόντων), whose statue was seen by Pausanias (IX, 3, 2) in the Valley of the Muses. [This is improbable. A cult association of worshippers of Thamyris would be called Θαμυρισταί and not θαμυρίζοντες. The present participle θαμυριδδόντων expresses a temporary function (cf. ἱα[ρ]αρχίοντος and ἁγιομένων) and not a cult. Only two members of the association are designated as θαμυρίδδοντες (θαμυριδδόντων Πισάνδρω, Δαμοκλεῖος); they were the presidents of the association’s assembly (cf. Hesychios, s.v. θάμυρις = assembly)]. The boundary stone of the land of a cult association of worshippers of the Muses in Thespiai (IG VII 1785, late 3rd cent.) is probably not connected with a cult of Hesiod (136: τῶν συνθυτάων
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τᾶμ Μωσάων τῶν Εἰσιοδείων = ‘those who join in sacrifice to the Muses of Hesiod’) [cf. EBGR 2004, 17].
143 28) K. CLINTON, “Pigs in Greek Rituals”, in Greek Sacrificial Ritual, p. 167-179 [SEG LV 2091]: Making ample use of cult regulations, C. distinguishes between two separate functions of pigs, piglets, and pregnant sows in Greek sacrificial ritual. When sacrificed at the Thesmophoria, pigs were deposited in pits in order to promote fertility; only this type of sacrifice can be designated as ‘chthonian’. Pigs were often used in purifications of places (e.g. Kos: LSCG 156 A 13-20; Athens: IG II² 1672; Delos: IG XI 2, 146 A and 199 A; I.Délos 338; Andania: IG V 1, 1390; Erythrai: I.Erythrai 207 = LSAM 26); in this case, they were not carried around the place, with their blood dripping, but instead they were entirely burned on an altar. In the case of a cult regulation from Erythrai, which mentions a sacrifice to the ὄπισθε θεαί, C. tentatively identifies these goddesses as wrathful spirits. The sacrifice of a pig in the Selinuntian regulation concerning purifications (SEG XLIII 630) is a normal sacrifice (not a purificatory one), marking the purificand’s re-entry into normal life.
144 29) F. COSTABILE, “Defixiones dal Kerameikós di Atene”, MEP 9/10 (2004/05), p. 137-192 [SEG LIV 395-399]: Ed. pr. of three curse tablets from Kerameikos in Athens. 1) A curse
E1 against the crewmen of two ships (early 4th cent.): Ἕνης τὸ ἐργαστήριον τὸ Ἑρμ B0 εν [κ]α[ὶ]? Εὐπορίας ὠμῶν νοῦς τρύχω. [Ἀ]νδοκ<ί>δης ἑρμοκο[πίδης]. According to C.’s interpretation the defigens cursed the crew (ἐργαστήριον) of a ship called Hene; the crew was known by the nickname Hermes. He also cursed the cruel mind of the crew of another ship, called Euporia; both ships belonged to the famous orator Andokides. 2) A fragmentary defixio apparently concerning a [stolen?] garment (2nd/1st cent.): [--]Ρ̣ στόλιον | [-- κ]αταδηννύω | [--] πρὸς πάντας |[--] ἀνθρώπους | [--] ἀτιμίαν. 3) A curse written on both sides of a lead tablet (c. 400-375); on one side, the formula τὰς γλώτας τούτων καταδῶ is used (which implies a judicial defixio); on the other side a curse is addressed (κατα<α>δῶ) against Natyrinos, another two men, and six supporters of Natyrinos (καὶ ὅσοι μὲ Νατυρίνος εἰσι = ὅσοι μετὰ Νατυρίνου εἰσι). The names of the cursed persons are written sinistrorsum. C. also presents improved editions of two other curse tablets. 4) SEG XXX 325(2): a defixio addressed against the supporters of the pro-Macedonian statesmen in Athens (ca. 317-307). C. argues that the name of Eunomos of Peiraeus (L. 6) was added later by a different hand: 5) In SEG XLIX 314 (late 5th cent.), we note here the restoration ἐπήλυ[θον?] (aorist of ἐπέρχομαι as an expression of cursing) and the use of the verb ἀνατίθημι (ἀνθέμε[νος]; ‘I consecrate (to the chthonic gods)’.
145 30) M.-T. COUILLOUD-LE DINAHET, “Les rituels funéraires en Asie Mineure et en Syrie à l’époque hellénistique (jusqu’au milieu du Ier siècle av. J.-C.)”, Pallas 62 (2003), p. 65-95: Making ample use of the relevant inscriptions, the author gives a very good overview of funerary practices in Hellenistic Asia Minor and Syria, discussing inter alia the graves of members of the elite; funerary monuments for fallen warriors; public funerals; the heroization of the dead; and the protection of the graves.
146 31) O. CURTY, “Un usage fort controversé : la parenté dans le langage diplomatique de l’époque hellénistique”, AncSoc 35 (2005) 101-117 [BE 2006, 136]: The significance of the term συγγένεια in Greek interstate relations and its connection with concrete mythological narratives have been the subject of a controversy (see EBGR 1997, 403). Recently, S. LÜCKE, Syngeneia. Epigraphisch-historische Studien zu einem Phänomen der
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antiken griechischen Diplomatie, Frankfurt, 2000, argued that when the word συγγένεια was used to describe the relation between cities and peoples, it did not have its usual meaning of a ‘blood relationship’, but a broad and metaphorical meaning. Based on a close analysis of this term in inscriptions and literary sources (with emphasis on the relations of Priene with Athens and Boiotia), C. rejects this view and plausibly argues that συγγένεια between communities did not differ from συγγένεια between individuals.
147 32) G.B. D’ALESSIO, “Some Notes on the Salmakis Inscription”, in The Salmakis Inscription, p. 43-57: D. comments on the metrical inscription from Halikarnassos (cf. infra nos. 64-66). We single out his comments on the cult of Aphrodite Schoinis (‘Aphrodite of the Reeds’, possibly related to the Samian cult of Aphrodite; see Lykophron, Alex., 832), on the myth of Zeus’ birth, and on Hermaphroditos.
148 33) P. DEBORD, “Le culte royal chez les Séleucides”, Pallas 62 (2003), p. 281-308: D. gives an overview of the cult of the Seleucids kings by the army and the cities, and the cult which was centrally organized by the dynasty, with particular reference to the cult of Antiochos III in Sardeis, Teos, Amyzon, and Xanthos, and to the relations of the Seleucids to Zeus. D. discusses the copies of Antiochos’ III letters, which concern the establishment of the office of the archiereus.
149 34) M.P. DE HOZ, “Inscripciones griegas de Oriente introducidas en España por el comercio de antiguedades”, ZPE 155 (2006), p. 145-149 [ BE 2006, 381]: The author discusses an epitaph dedicated by Sortias to his daughter and his sister (SEG XXXVIII 1918, possibly from Lykia). The last line (παραμένων Ἥρωνι) had been interpreted by J. Nieto Ibáñez as a reference to the institution of paramone. Instead, de Hoz proposes the reading παραμένων ἥρωνι (‘sobreviviendo; (dedicado) a la difunta heroizada’). 150 35) M.P. DE HOZ, “Literacy in Rural Anatolia: The Testimony of the Confession Inscriptions”, ZPE 155 (2006), p. 139-144 [BE 2006, 352]: After summarizing the character and content of the ‘confession inscriptions’, de Hoz stresses the importance of the written narrative of divine punishment (μαρτυρέω, μαρτύριον) as an expression of piety. She argues that deviations from standard language in these texts may be indications that the texts were written by the worshippers, not the priests. Consequently, these texts provide valuable evidence for literacy.
151 36) N. DESHOURS, Les mystères d’Andania. Étude d’épigraphie et d’histoire religieuses, Bordeaux, 2006 [BE 2007, 301]: D. presents a critical edition, translation (p. 27-46) [cf. infra no. 98], and exhaustive commentary of the cult regulation of the mysteries of Andania (IG V 1, 1390; LSCG 65) [on the date (24 CE and not 91/90 BCE) see now EBGR 2004, 268; but cf. the doubts of S. MINON and L. DUBOIS, BE 2007, 301]. She discusses the measures taken by Mnasistratos and the city of Messene for the re-organisation of the cult (p. 65-97), the regulations concerning order in the sanctuary, supplication, the punishment of crimes committed during the festival (99-114), and the various aspects of the celebration (oaths, procession, sacrifices, the rites of the mysteries; 115-137). A large part of the book is dedicated to a close study of Pausanias and other sources for a reconstruction of the religious history of Messene (the question whether there were cults of the helotes and the perioikoi, possible Spartan influences), the significance of religious traditions and legends for the development of a Messenian identity, and the development of the mysteries in the Imperial period. Among D.’s contributions to the interpretation of the mysteries of Andania, we single out her view that the cult regulation marked the restoration of an early cult, the identification of the Great Gods
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in the Karneasion with the Dioskouroi, the study of the prominent part played by Demeter in this cult, and the distinction between the mysteries in the sanctuary called Karneiasion and the festival of the Karneia.
152 37) A. DOULGERI-INTZESILOGLOU, “Τὸ Ἀσκληπιεῖο τῆς Πεπαρήθου”, in Ἀρχαιολογικὸ Ἔργο Θεσσαλίας καὶ Στερεᾶς Ἑλλάδας I, p. 263-281: Overview of the history and architecture of the sanctuary of Asklepios (and Apollo?) at Peparethos (Skopelos). The finds include a dedication to Asklepios.
153 38) B. DREYER – H. ENGELMANN, “Augustus und Germanicus im ionischen Metropolis”, ZPE 158 (2006), p. 173-182 [BE 2007, 446]: Ed. pr. of several important inscriptions from Metropolis. Three altars found in the theatre are connected with the Imperial cult (p. 173-175). One of the altars is dedicated to Augustus, the other two are designated as altars for the cult ‘of the propitiating Caesar’ (Καίσαρος εἱλαστηρίου); this unique epithet underscored Augustus’ achievement in establishing peace. Another altar, also from the theatre, is dedicated to Germanicus Iulius Caesar by a priest (of Germanicus) [this is not unequivocally stated in the text]; the altar is designated as ἄσυλος, i.e. it could be used by suppliants (c. 4-19 CE; p. 174f.). The most important inscription contains excerpts of the famous dossier concerning the introduction of the Julian calendar in the province of Asia (p. 175-182, 9 BCE); copies of the relevant documents have been found in Priene and Apameia. The inscription begins with the edict of the governor Paulus Fabius Maximus concerning the celebration of Augustus’ birthday (lines 1-35); the decree of the Koinon of Asia follows (lines 36-51). The new copy makes the restoration of several passages possible, especially lines 37-43: ἐπεὶ πᾶσαν ἡ διατάξασα τὸν βίον ἡμῶν [Π]ρόνοια σπουδὴν εἰσενενκαμένη καὶ φιλοτιμίαν τὸ τελειότατον τῷ βίῳ διεκόσμησεν ἀγαθὸν ἐνενκαμένη τὸν Σεβ[α]στόν, ὃν εἰς εὐεργεσίαν ἀνθρ[ώ]πων ἐκ πάσης ἐπλήρω[σ]εν ἀρετῆς, ὥσπερ ἡμεῖν καὶ τοῖς μεθ᾿ ἡμᾶς ἀνθ᾿ ἑαυτῆς [θ]εὸν δοῦσα, τὸν παύσαντα μ[ὲ]ν πόλεμον, κοσμήσαντα δὲ [ε]ἰρήνην. [The editors read [θ]εόν, δοῦσα τὸν παύσαντα (‘wie einen Gott an ihrer Stelle hervorgebracht hat, und uns den Mann geschenkt hat’); I understand [θ]εόν as the object of δοῦσα: ‘since the Provision, which has ordered our life, has shown every zeal and fervour and has provided the most perfect good for our life by bringing Augustus, whom she has filled with every virtue, so that he can be a benefactor to men, and has given him to us and to our descendants as a god, to represent her, the one who has put war to an end and has adorned the peace’; as the editors point out, divine provision sent Augustus to the world as her representative.] Also the passage concerning Augustus’ birthday can now be restored: ἦρξεν δὲ τῷ κόσμῳ τῶν δι᾿ αὐτὸν εὐανγελίων ἡ γεν[έ]θλιος ἡμέρα τοῦ θεοῦ (lines 47-48) [‘the birhday of the god has marked for the world the beginning of the the good tidings, which he has brought forth’].
154 39) P. DUCREY – C. CALAME, “Notes de sculpture et d’épigraphie en Béotie. II. Une base de statue portant la signature de Lysippe de Sicyone à Thèbes”, BCH 130 (2006), p. 63-81: Ed. pr. of the inscribed base of a bronze statue made by Lysippos [already mentioned in EBGR 1999, 63]; it was found in Boiotia, but the exact provenance is unknown (c. 372-364 BCE). According to an honorary epigram, the statue was dedicated by Hippias to Zeus Saotas. It represented a military commander (probably the dedicant himself), who increased the glory of Thebes. The cult of Zeus Saotas is known in Thespiai (Paus. IX, 26, 7-8), where this statue may have been dedicated.
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155 40) C. DURVYE, “Aphrodite à Délos : culte privé et public à l’époque hellénistique”, REG 119 (2006), p. 83-113 [BE 2007, 22]: D. reconstructs the development of the cult of Aphrodite on Delos from the 4th to the 1st cent. In addition to the public cult of Aphrodite, attested through references to dedications and to the festival of the Aphrodisia in the Delian accounts and inventories, in the late 4th cent. Stesileos founded a private sanctuary, which was under the care of members of his family until the 2nd cent.; the cult of Aphrodite was connected with two commemorative festivals established by Stesileos in 302 BCE and by his daughter Echenike in 250 BCE (Stesileia and Echenikeia). D. argues that the foundation of the sanctuary was connected with private piety and self-staging of a family. The Delian accounts and inventories provide information concerning the cult statue, the altar, and the temple (cf. I.Délos 1417 A II lines 1-21). In the period of Athenian domination (after 167 BCE), in which foreign cults became public cults, the sanctuary lost its semi-private character and came under the supervision of the Athenian authorities (cf. I.Délos 1810-1811).
156 41) E. EIDINOW, “An Inscription in the Basement of the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford”, ZPE 156 (2006), p. 113-116: Ed. pr. of a fragmentary inscription, a dedication to Apollon or a boundary stone of a sanctuary of Apollon, probably from Naukratis (late 6th/early 5th cent.), now in the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford.
157 42) H. ENGELMANN, “Zur Lykiarchie”, ZPE 158 (2006), p. 183-186 [BE 2007, 467]: Ed. pr. of an honorary inscription for the high priest of the Sebastoi in Lykia and secretary of the Lykian Koinon M. Aurelius Dionysios, a descendant of Lykiarchs (Patara, early 3rd cent. CE). The great significance of this text rests in the formulation ἐπὶ τῇ [πρὸς τ]ὴν Λυκιαρχίαν φιλο[τ]ιμίᾳ. The high priest is honoured for his good conduct as a Lykiarches. This settles once and for all the question whether archiereus and Lykiarches were separate functions [cf. EBGR 2005, 53; M. ZIMMERMANN, “Die Archiereis des lykischen Bundes. Prosopographische Überlegunen zu den Kaiserpriestern”, in C. SCHULER (ed.), Griechische Epigraphik in Lykien. Eine Zwischenbilanz. Akten des Int. Koloquiums, München, 24.-26. Februar 2005, Vienna, 2007, p. 111-120]. They were not. The term Lykiarches comprised all the different functions of the president of the Koinon, i.e. his function as a high priest and his function in the administration of the Koinon (grammateus). In the same article E. republishes a dedication of Dionysios, after the end of his term as Lykiarches, to Theos Hypsistos, Meter Oreia, Kele[- -] (Kelenaios Theos?), and all the gods and goddesses in expression of his gratitude (Neisa; TAM II 3, 737).
158 43) F. ERASLAN – M. FACELLA – E. WINTER, “Neue Funde im Museum Adiyaman aus der Nekropole von Perrhe (Pirun)”, AST 23.1 (2005) [2006], p. 57-62: Ed. pr. of a relief dedicated by a soldier in fulfilment of an oracle; it depicts Zeus Dolichenos in military attire (Perrhe in Kommagene, 2nd cent. CE): Γάϊος Ἰούλιος Παῦλος | τὸν θεὸν Δολίχεος | στρατιώτης | ἀνέθεκεν | χ[ρ]ηματισθείς [to be understood as ‘a soldier from Doliche’ (Δολίχεος στρατιώτης), not ‘an den Gott von Doliche’]. 159 44) A. FENNET, “Sanctuaires marins du canal d’Otrante”, in E. DENIAUX (ed.), Le canal d’Otrante et la Méditerranée antique et médiévale. Colloque organisé à l’Université de Paris X – Nanterre (20-21 novembre 2000), Bari, 2005, p. 39-49: Overview of the cults of deities, who were regarded as patrons of seafarers in the straits of Otranto: Zeus in the cave Porcinara near Leuke; Zeus Kassios in Kassope on Korkyra; Aphrodite and Eros at Orikos (Illyria).
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160 45) C. FEYEL, Les artisans dans les sanctuaires grecs aux époques classique et hellénistique à travers la documentation financière en Grèce, Athens-Paris, 2006 [BE 2007, 171]: Based on a detailed, comparative analysis of the accounts concerning building activities in five important sanctuaries (the Erechtheion on the Athenian Acropolis, Eleusis, Delphi, Epidauros, and Delos), F. presents a reliable, differentiated, reconstruction of the socio- economic position of craftsmen and the organisation of large construction works from the late fifth to the second century BCE [for the Eleusinian accounts see now K. CLINTON, Eleusis. The Inscriptions on Stone, Athens, 2005, esp. p. 163-169 no. 159 and 188-206 no. 177]. We single out the discussion of the relationship between craftsmen, entrepreneurs, and administrators (p. 439-521), which is relevant for the study of Greek sanctuaries. F. points out that the different administrative structure of the sanctuaries affected the planning of building activities, as only the Delian hieropoioi had substantial flexibility in their budget. F. discusses the mixed and distant geographical origin of artisans working in Delphi, Epidauros, and Delos, as opposed to the primarily local recruitment for the Athenian projects (p. 341-368), the different degrees of specialisation, and the significant differences in wages and salaries.
161 46) J. FOURNIER, “La société thasienne et l’Empire sous les Julio-Claudiens : deux inscriptions inédites”, BCH 130 (2006), p. 499-518: Ed. pr. of a dedication made by the priestess of Livia (Θεᾶς Ἰουλίας Σεβαστῆς ἡ ἱέρηα) for the well-being of Livia’s family/ household (ὑπὲρ [τοῦ] σύνπαντος αὐτ[ῆς οἴκ]ου). The priestess dedicated an exedra near the agora (Thasos, c. 14-29 CE).
162 47) J. FOURNIER – P. HAMON, “Ἐπιγραφὲς τῆς Θάσου: Νέα εὑρήματα καὶ προοπτικὴ δημοσίευσης ἑνὸς ἀναθεωρημένου corpus”, AEMTh 20 (2006) [2008], p. 51-60: The authors report the discovery of two important texts (Thasos, early 4th cent.). The first inscription is a fragment of the Thasian decree concerning public funerals and honours for the war-dead (LSCG Suppl. 64). The clauses in the new fragment provide for support offered to those orphans of the war-dead who were in need, as well as for honours for non-citizens (metics and others), who had died in war, and privileges for their sons. The second text is an honorary inscription for a benefactor, who had funded the restoration of a sanctuary (of Artemis?) in the late Hellenistic or early Imperial period [now published; see infra no 48].
163 48) J. FOURNIER – C. PRÊTRE, “Un mécène au service d’une déesse thasienne: décret pour Stilbôn”, BCH 130 (2006), p. 487-497: Ed. pr. of a decree of Thasos concerning a donation by Stilbon. Along with his wife Stilbon offered to cover the expenses for the restoration of buildings and the construction of additional buildings in the sanctuary of a goddess (probably Artemis) in order to honour her ([--] τῆς θεᾶς τιμήν, [ἀναδέχεται] τά τε δεόμενα ἐπισκευῆς ἐπι[σκευ]άσαι καὶ τὰ δέοντα κατασκευῆ[ς] κατασκευάσαι, κοινοποιούμενος τὴν πρὸς τὴν θεὰν τιμὴν τῆι γυναικὶ ἑαυτοῦ). The city accepted this donation (choregia) setting at Stilbon’s disposal the public slaves (Thasos, mid-1st cent. CE).
164 49) M. FRASCA, “Hera a Leontinoi”, in R. GIGLII (ed.), Μεγάλαι νῆσοι. Studi dedicati a Giovanni Rizza per il suo ottantesimo compleanno II, Catania, 2005, p. 137-145: A sanctuary excavated in Leontinoi may be attributed to Hera. It was established in the 7th cent.; a monumental altar was built in the second half of the 6th cent.; the sanctuary was destroyed in the eartly 5th cent. B.C. The finds include vases with graffiti with the
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letters hη and a sima with the text [--]ΡΗΣΜΝ[--] which F. restores as [Ἥ]ρης μν[ημεῖον].
165 50) P.-L. GATIER – P. LOMBARD – K. M. AL-SINDI, “Greek Inscriptions from Bahrain”, Arabian Archaeology and Epigraphy 13.2 (2002), p. 223-233 [SEG LII 1736-1737]: Ed. pr. of two dedications from Tylos (Bahrain) [now in I.Estremo Oriente 427 and 431]. The governor of Tylos and the islands dedicated a temple to the Dioskouroi Soteres on behalf of the king of Charakene (1; c. 129-124). Another dedication was made in fulfilment of a vow of a sailor or sailors after safe return from a sea voyage (4; 1st cent.).
166 51) P. GAUTHIER, “Les décrets de Colophon-sur-mer en l’honneur des Attalides Athènaios et Philètairos”, REG 119 (2006), p. 473-503: G. presents a improved edition of the decree of Kolophon by the Sea (c. 180-160) in honour of Athenaios, the youngest son of Attalos I (p. 474-494; M. HOLLEAUX, Études d’épigraphie et d’histoire grecques II, Paris, 1938, p. 51-60). According to the decree, Athenaios’ statue was to be placed in the sanctuary of Apollon Klarios, near the statue of queen Apollonis and his brothers. His cult was established in the gymnasion. The annually elected gymnasiarchos was to perform a sacrifice and organize a race of the young men and ephebes in the Homereion (the gymnasion of Kolophon) on Athenaios’ birthday; a race of the boys was to take place on the same day in the Homereion, until a palaistra for the boys was built, under the supervision of the paidonomos. The decree contains detailed provisions about the distribution of the meat of the sacrificial animal. A portion was preserved as ἆθλα for the winners in the race (in addition to other prizes, which might be decided in the future). The rest was distributed by the gymnasiarchos to the ἀλειψάμενοι (those who had participated in the contests or those who had exercised in the gymnasion?), the council, the magistrates, the priests, the prytanis, the prophetes, the sacred council, the winners of staphanitai contests, the hierokeryx, and the scribes. G. discusses in detail the contests that took place in the gymnasion.
167 52) S. GIANNOBILE, “Filatterio contro il mal di testa nella tomba di Iulia”, JAC 48/49 (2005/06), p. 54-67: Ed. pr. of an inscribed gold lamina found near Forum Fulvii (early 2nd cent. CE). The phylactery consists of sacred names (ανοχ, βαιανιωχ, σελ βαι ανοχ οεινη νωφρι ανοχ ηκαρ ανοχ σε κουθμω σε [.]κοωφρις) followed by an invocation aiming at stopping the headache of a woman (τῆς Ἰουλίας Εὐφημίας παῦσον τὴν κεφαλαλγίαν ... ἀπαλλαξ τῆς κεφαλαργίας Ἰουλίαν). G. provides numerous parallels for the formulae and a detailed discussion of the use of phylacteries for the healing of headaches.
168 53) Gorny & Mosch. Giessener Münzhandlung. Auktion 150. Kunst der Antike. 11. Juli 2006, Munich, 2006: This auction catalogue contains several inscriptions of a religious interest, but unfortunately, of unknown provenance [W. Günther, who has sent us xeroxes of the catalogue, has read the texts]. A bronze statuette (c. 500 BC) of a young man [a victorious athlete?] is inscribed on the right-hand side with the dedicatory inscription Ἀργολικὸς ἀνέθεκε (p. 23 no. 18). Two dedicatory reliefs [certainly from Asia Minor] are inscribed. One of them shows two worshippers and a servant approaching a seated goddess (Kybele); under a dedicatory inscription [read from the photo: Θεῷ Πεισματηνῇ εὐχήν], there is a representation of a rider and a bull (p. 115 no. 306). The second relief depicts Zeus with a libation bowl and Apollon Kitharodos (p. 115 no. 307). [Read from the photo: [Μένανδρος Ἀπολλωνίου | [Δι]ὶ Αὐλαίωι καὶ Ἀπόλ|[λ]ωνι Γερμηνῶι εὐχήν]; Apollon’s epithet derives from Germe in Mysia; see EBGR 1997, 365.] A grave inscription, inscribed on the base of a bust of a woman [not a man, as erroneously stated in the catalogue. Part of the inscription can be read from the
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photo: ᾧδε κατάκειται Ἀμμιάς, Τρύφωνος καὶ | Ἀμμίας γεναμένη θυγάτηρ, Μενε| κράτους δὲ τοῦ ἱερέως γεναμέ|νη γυνή, καὶ αὐτὴ γεναμένη | ἱέρεια σεμνοτάτη καὶ [---]. Ammias, daughter of Tryphon and Ammia, was wife of the priest Menekrates and a priestess herself]. A magical gem with the typical representation of Abrasax is inscribed with the magical names Ἰαω, Ἀβρασάξ (p. 103 no. 278). Three other gems are inscribed with voces magicae (276: Σθονβαθλ μαλακσθον βαλακαλα υοληα βραλπμ αως βραλμπ ΣΣΣ; 277: Βοηθοῦ, σιμοιπαηταση; 279: νωος σφεζσφε ιεσεσ). 169 54) Y. GRANDJEAN – F. SALVIAT, “Règlements du Délion de Thasos”, BCH 130 (2006), p. 293-327: Ed. pr. of a stele from Thasos, which contains two decrees concerning cult regulations (early 4th cent.). The first decree prevents women from entering the sanctuary of Apollon Delios and Artemis during the Thesmophoria (τοῖς Θεσμοφορίοις ἐς τὸ ἱρὸν τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος τοῦ Δηλίου καὶ τῆς Ἀρτέμιδος γυναῖκα μὴ ἐσιέναι μηδεμίαν); this sanctuary, excavated in 2003, is located near the Thesmophorion. The hieropoios of Apollon – a hitherto unattested official – was responsible for closing the sanctuary during the Thesmophoria (ὅπως δ᾿ ἂν τὸ ἱρὸν κεκλεμένον ἦι τοῖς Θε[σ]μοφορίοις ἐπιμέλεσθαι τὸν ἱροποιὸν τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος τὸν ἑκάστοτε ἐόντα). If a woman violated this regulation, she would be liable to a punishment designated as ἐνθυμιστόν (ἥτις δ᾿ ἄν εἰσέλθῃ ἐνθυμιστὸν αὐτῆι εἶναι; see infra). This regulation aimed at keeping good order during the Thesmophoria. The second decree orders the publication of an earlier decree prohibiting women from creating enclosures (φράσσειν) in order to keep livestock in this sanctuary (τὸ ψήφισμα [τ]ὸ γεγενημένον περὶ τῶν [κ]τηνέων τοῦ μὴ φρά[σ]σεν ἐν τῶ ἱερῶι τῆς Δηλίης). This time, the sanctuary is designated as the ‘sanctuary of the Delian goddess’, i.e. Artemis, who was the primary deity. Obviously, this sanctuary owned land and sacred groves. The editors give a detailed discussion of cult regulations prohibiting the keeping of livestock in sanctuaries. The expenses for the publication were to be paid by the hieromnemon. The new decree also made an addition to the earlier decree: if a woman acted against this decree, she would be liable to ἐνθυμιστόν (ἣ δ᾿ ἂν ποῆι παρὰ τὸ ψήφισμα ἐνθυμιστὸν αὐτῆι εἶναι). The term ἐνθυμιστόν, only known from Thasos (LSCG Suppl. 64 and 72), designates a religious punishment, which cannot be determined with certainty; it seems to designate moral condemnation and bad conscience (cf. LSCG 130 = IG XII 3, 183: ἐν νῶι ἐσσεῖται), but it may also imply exclusion from cult. [It is interesting to note that the violations of these decrees by women did not result in the payment of a fine, but in religious punishment. Was this done in order to avoid a financial liability on their kyrios or because the threat of religious punishment appeared more effective?]. G.- S. give an overview of the diffusion of the cult of the ‘Delian gods’ in the Aegean. The cult of Apollon Delios and Artemis Delia was introduced to Thasos from Paros.
170 55) A. GREAVES, “The Cult of Aphrodite in Miletos and its Colonies”, AS 54 (2004), p. 27-34: Collection of the predominantly epigraphic evidence for the cult of Aphrodite in Miletos and its colonies (Histria, Olbia, Kepoi, Prokonnesos, Naukratis, the cities of the Bosporan Kingdom).
171 56) A. HADZIDIMITRIOU, “Χάλκινο ἐνεπίγραφο σταθμίο ἀπό τοὺς Ζάρακες Καρυστίας”, in Ἀρχαιολογικὸ Ἔργο Θεσσαλίας καὶ Στερεᾶς Ἑλλάδας I, p. 221-268. Ed. pr. of a bronze weight with a ram head in relief on top and a pointed inscription (Ἀπόλλωνος Δηλίο) along its sides (Zarex, Euboia, 4th cent.). H. discusses the use of the ram as a symbol and the role played by Zarex on the route of the Hyperborean offerings to Delos (cf. Herodotos, IV, 33).
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172 57) P. HAMON, “Un prêtre des dieux boulaioi dans le bâtiment du Conseil de Cos”, Chiron 36 (2006), p. 151-168: H. presents a new edition of a Koan fragmentary inscription (IscrCos ED 32), which he identifies as a regulation concerning the sale of the priesthood of the gods worshipped by the council. According to his restoration, the text refers to the cult of the gods (line 5: [τὰν θ]εραπείων τῶν θεῶν), the performance of sacrifices, the right of the priest to wear a (gold) crown on festive days and receive an honorary portion from sacrifices (lines 6-8: ὁ τὰ[ν ἱερωσύναν πριάμενος στεφανειφορείτω ἐν ταῖς] ἐπιφανέσι ἁμέραις καὶ θεραπ[ευέτω τοὺς θεοὺς καὶ ἐξέστω αὐτῶι τὰ νομιζόμε]να γέρη λαμβάνεν), and his duty to perform the prayers during the assemblies in the bouleuterion (lines 11-12: ἐπευχέσθω δὲ καὶ ἐ]ν ταῖς ἐκκλησίαις ταῖς συντελουμέναις ἐν τῶι βουλε[υτηρίωι, ἐπεί κα τὰ ἱερὰ συντε]λῆται τοῖς θεοῖς). One tenth of the price for this priesthood was to be spent on the decoration of the statues in the bouleuterion (line 15: [ἕν]εκεν τᾶς τῶν ἀγαλμάτων τῶν ἐν τῶι βουλευτηρίωι ἐπι[κο]μήσιος). The cult of Zeus Boulaios and Hestia Boulaia were attested in Kos. H. briefly comments on the cults of the council in the Hellenistic period.
173 58) H. HARRAUER, “Ein Spendengefäss für Triphis”, in F. BEUTLER – W. HAMETER (eds.), “Eine ganz normale Inschrift” ... und ähnliches zum Geburtstag von Ekkehard Weber. Festschrift zum 30. April 2005, Vienna, 2005, p. 289-292: Ed. pr. of a dedication inscribed on an alabaster vase used for libations; Tachratis dedicated the vase to Thriphis, θεὰ μεγίστη (Egypt, 9 CE).
174 59) B. HELLY, “Décret de Larisa pour Bombos, fils d’Alkaios, et pour Leukios, fils de Nikasias, citoyens d’Alexandrie de Troade (ca 150 av. J.-C.)”, Chiron 36 (2006), p. 171-203: H. republishes an important honorary decree for Bombos of Alexandreia Troas, a historian or orator, who visited Larisa in c. 150 BCE. In his public lectures in the gymnasion, Bombos ‘commemorated both in his treatises and in his lectures the glorious events that have occurred with regard to the Lariseans and renewed the kinship and the friendship between the two cities’ (lines 15-18: [συνεμνεμονεύσατο? ἔ]ν τε τοῖς πεπραγματευμένοις αὐτοῦ καὶ ἀκροάσεσσιν τοῦν γεγενημένουν ἐνδόξουν Λαρισαίοις καὶ τάν τε συγγένειαν καὶ φιλίαν ταῖς πολίεσσι π[ὸ]θ᾿ εὑτὰς ὀνενε[ούσατο]). [In this translation, I understand τοῦν ἐνδόξουνas neuter (glorious deeds); Helly (p. 173 and 198) who translates ‘des personnages qui ont été fameux chez les Lariséens’, thinks of glorious men. But the text reads τοῦν γεγενημένουν ἐνδόξουν Λαρισαίοις and not τοῦν γεγενημένουν ἐνδόξουν Λαρισαίουν; as we can infer from parallels, Bombos probably treated wars, foundation myths, and miracles of local gods; see A. CHANIOTIS, “Travelling Memories in the Hellenistic World”, in R. HUNTER – I. RUTHERFORD (eds), Wandering Poets in Ancient Greek Culture: Travel, Locality, and Panhellenism, Cambridge, 2009, p. 249-269]. This decree was published in the sanctuary of Apollon Kerdoios (line 31).
175 60) A. HENRICHS, “‘Sacrifice as to the Immortals’. Modern Classifications of Animal Sacrifice and Ritual Distinctions in the Lex Sacra from Selinous”, in Greek Sacrificial Ritual, p. 47-58: H. tests the validity of modern classifications of sacrifice (‘blood ritual’ vs. ‘fire ritual’, ‘Speiseopfer’ vs. ‘Vernichtungsopfer’, ‘Olympian’ vs. ‘chthonian’, ‘marked’ vs. ‘unmarked’, ‘divine’ vs. ‘heroic’) through a study of the clauses concerning sacrifice in the cult regulation of Selinous concerning purification. He notes the juxtaposition of sacrifices ‘as to the gods’, which did not need an explanation, and sacrifices ‘as to the heroes’, which needed to be specified because they implied deviation from the norm. Deviations from the norm are observed in sacrifices to the
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impure Tritopatores (pouring libations of wine ‘through the roof’, burning the ninth portion of the animal), to the pure Tritopatores (wineless libations), and to Elasteros (‘as to the gods’, but slaughtering the animal so that its blood flows into the earth).
176 61) A. HERMARY, “Autres cultes dans le sanctuaire”, in S. FOURRIER – A. HERMARY, Amathonte VI. Le sanctuaire d’Aphrodite, des origines au début de l’époque impériale, Paris, 2006, p. 160-164: A dedication to Sarapis, Isis, Aphrodite (or Isis Aphrodite) and their synnaoi theoi for the well-being of Ptolemy VIII, Kleopatra III, and their children, in the sanctuary of Aphrodite in Amathous can now be restored thanks to the discovery of an additional small fragment.
177 62) B.C. INTZESILOGLOU, “Ἡ Ἰτωνία Ἀθηνᾶ καὶ τὸ Θεσσαλικὸ ὁμοσπονδιακὸ ἱερό της στὴ Φίλια Καρδίτσας”, in Ἀρχαιολογικὸ Ἔργο Θεσσαλίας καὶ Στερεᾶς Ἑλλάδας I, p. 2006, p. 221-237 [BE 2007, 351]: Overview of the results of the excavations in a sanctuary at Filia Karditsas (Thessaly), which can be identified as the sanctuary of Athena Itonia. I. discusses the significance of this sanctuary as federal sanctuary of the Thessalians (cf. SEG XXV 653-654; XXXIV 558; LIII 849).
178 63) B. IPLIKÇIOĞLU, “Bati Pamphylia ve dogû Lykia’da epigrafya araştirmalari 2004”, AST 23.1 (2005) [2006], p. 219-224: In his report on recent epigraphic research in Lykia and Pamphylia, I. mentions several inscriptions from Rhodiapolis. They include dedications of honorific statues to the gods; an honorific inscription for a boy victor in wrestling at the Serapeia Apolloneia; and the end of a honorific inscription for a priestess for life of Meter Theon, who dedicated statues in the goddess’ sanctuary. [This inscription is of particular interest because at the beginning it refers to the construction at the expenses of this woman of a crown: [κατεσκεύ]ασεν ἐκ τῶν ἰδίων χρυσοῦν στέφανον ἔνλιθον σὺν τοῖς ἀπεικονίσμασιν τῶν Σεβαστῶν (‘she had constructed at her own expense a golden crown with inlaid stones and with representations of the emperors’); this must have been the crown of the high priestess of the imperial cult.]
179 64) S. ISAGER, “The Salmakis Inscription: Some Reactions to the Editio Princeps”, in The Salmakis Inscription, p. 9-13: I. summarizes recent publications concerning the date, the author, and the content of this very important metrical inscription from Halikarnassos, which refers to local myths (EBGR 1998, 130; SEG XLVIII 1330).
180 65) S. ISAGER, “Halikarnassos and the Ptolemies I: Inscriptions on Public Buildings”, in The Salmakis Inscription, p. 133-114: In a study of the relations of Halikarnassos with the Ptolemies, who controlled the city in c. 280-195, I. republishes an inscription which commemorates the dedication of a stoa to Apollon and a King Ptolemy (III?) and a decree which concerns the funding for its construction.
181 66) M.H. JAMESON, “Troizen and Halikarnassos in the Hellenistic Era”, in The Salmakis Inscription, p. 93-107: The metrical inscription from Halikarnassos (supra no. 32) alludes to the foundation of the city by Troizenian settlers (Ἀνθεάδαι). J. collects the literary and epigraphic evidence for the relations between the two cities, presenting the relevant texts in an appendix. He adduces inscriptions for the following subjects: the alleged foundation of Halikarnassos by Troizen (cf. the honorary epigram for a descendant of the Ἀνθεάδαι: I.i = SEG XVI 666; cf. the list of the priest of Poseidon Isthmios in Halikarnassos: I.h = Syll.3 1020; Ὑπέρης Τελαμῶνος in A L. 3 may be related to Ὑπέρεια, one of the settlements which later formed Troizen); the alleged foundation of a temple of Aphrodite by the Halikarnassians in Troizen and the dedication of a statue of Isis (Paus. II, 32, 6; cf. dedications to the Egyptian gods, Arsinoe II, and
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Aphrodite Akraia Arsinoe: II.b = GIBM 907; II.c = GIBM 908; II.d = SEG VIII 361); the relations of Troizen with Halikarnassos (cf. a honorary decree of Troizen for two Troizenians and a man from the Halikarnassos area: III.a = IG IV 750; a honorary decree of Troizen and Halikarnassos for Zenodotos : III.d/e; a honorary epigram of Troizen for Diomedes, a Troizenian or Halikarnassian descendant of Ἄνθας: III.f = I.Oropos 389); the relations of Theangela with Troizen (cf. honorary decrees of Troizen for a man from Theangela and for the city of Theangela: III.b/c).
182 67) D. KNOEPFLER, “L’inscription de Naryka (Locride) au musée du Louvre : la dernière lettre publique de l’empereur Hadrien ?”, REG 119 (2006), p. 1-34: Ed. pr. of a letter sent by Hadrian to the city of Naryx in Lokris, shortly before his death in 138 CE [already presented in EBGR 2002, 115; SEG LI 641]. In this letter Hadrian confirms the status of Naryx as a polis. In addition to providing a nice definition of what constitutes a polis (participation in the Amphictyony, the Boiotian Koinon and the Panhellenion, existence of a council, magistrates, priests, Greek phylai, Opountian laws, payment of taxes together with the Achaians), the emperor refers to the Roman and Greek poets, who had mentioned Naryx and its heroes (i.e. the Lokrian Aias). In this article, the first part of a detailed study of this document, K. offers an exhaustive commentary of Naryx’s participation in the Delphic Amphictyony, the Boiotian League, and the Panhellenion. As regards the enigmatic phrase Πανέλληνα αἱρεῖσθε καὶ θεηκόλον πέμπετε, K. cautiously argues that the office of the theekolos was not an old Lokrian office, but a representative of the Narykeans in the board of sacred officials of the Panhellenion, modelled after the theekoloi in the cult of Zeus in Olympia.
183 68) R. KOCH PIETTRE, “La Chronique de Lindos, ou comment accommoder les restes pour écrire l’Histoire”, in P. BORGEAUD – Y. VOLOKHINE (eds.), Les objets de la mémoire. Pour une approche comparatiste des reliques et de leur culte, Bern, 2005, p. 95-145: K.P. discusses the content of the Lindian anagraphe as evidence for the significance of relics and epiphanies in ancient Greece and gives an overview of the motives for the dedications made to Athena Lindia and the origin of the dedicants.
184 69) A. KOLDE, “Paroles de Cobra (Bernand, Inscr. métr. 102)”, in Mélanges Hurst, p. 143-154: K. discusses an interesting funerary epigram for a cobra, killed by a man (Inscr. métriques 102; Egypt, Imperial period). The epigram is composed after the model of ‘prayers for justice’ for the victims of murder; the cobra promises that her offspring, more numerous than the grains of the sand, will pursue this man and his descendants; the murderer will reach Hades after he has seen the death of all his descendants (ἦ σὲ μὲν οὐχ ὕπατον, πύματον δ᾿ Ἀΐδην πελάσουσι, | ὄμμασι δερκόμενον σῶν ἐρέων θάνατον). 185 70) L. KOLONAS, “Τὰ ἀγροτικὰ ἱερὰ τῆς Αἰτωλοακαρνανίας”, in A. PALIOURAS (ed.), Β΄ Διεθνὲς Ἱστορικὸ καὶ Ἀρχαιολογικὸ Συνέδριο Αἰτωλοακαρνανίας. Ἀγρίνιο, 29, 30, 31 Μαρτίου 2002. Πρακτικά, Agrinio, 2004, I, p. 267-292: Ed. pr. of a dedication to (Artemis) Epikrateia found in a rural sanctuary of Artemis at Drymonas Archontochoriou (near ancient Alyzia, Akarnania, 3rd cent.). This epithet, attested for the first time, is mentioned in several dedicatory inscriptions from the same sanctuary. Artemis’ sanctuary flourished in the Hellenistic period.
186 71) A. KOUKOUVOU, “Ἐπιτύμβια στήλη θηριομάχου ἀπὸ τὴ Βέροια”, AAA 39 (2006) [2007], p. 161-174: Ed. pr. of an interesting grave epigram for a venator (Beroia, late 2nd cent. CE). The relief depicts the venator with a dog fighting against a bear. The epigram
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reports that Tillorhobos, a native of Beroia, died in his fatherland after fighting against horrible species of wild animals in many cities and after saturating the insatiable Tyche with blood. The epigram reads [we correct the scribe’s mistakes]: ὁ πολλὰ περάσας θηρίων φρικτῶν γένη | καὶ τὴν ἄπληστον χορτάσας τύχην φόνων | πόλεις τε πλεῖστας εἰσιδὼν οἰκουμένης | τύχῃ βαρείᾳ καὶ ἀπαραιτήτῳ μόρῳ | Τιλλόροβος οἰκτρῶς εἰς πάτρα γαίην μολὼν | γονεῖς τε κατιδὼν καὶ φίλους καὶ συνγενεῖς | κεῖμαι ἐν πατρῷα προσφιλεστάτῃ χθονί.
187 72) V. KRAPIVINA – P. DIATROPTOV, “An Inscription of Mithridates VI Eupator’s Governor from Olbia”, ACSS 11 (2005.3/4), p. 167-180: Ed. pr. of an inscription from Olbia (78/77 BCE), which records the dedication of the curtain of the city wall by Mithridates’ VI governor to Meter Theon. Meter Theon in a corona militaris appears on coins issued under Mithridates VI in Olbia; her cult was widespread in the North Pontic region. The second-century city wall of Olbia was dedicated to Plouton, Demeter, Kore, and Demos (N.O. LEIPUNS’KA, “Novyi napis z Ol’vii”, Arkheologiya (Kiev) 3 [1990], p. 117-122).
188 73) C. LEHMLER – M. WÖRRLE, “Neue Inschriften aus Aizanoi IV: Aizanitica Minora”, Chiron 36 (2006), p. 45-111: Ed. pr. of new inscriptions from Aizanoi (all from the Imperial period). Dedications: The most interesting monument is an altar dedicated by a village (Daokometai) to Zeus in fulfilment of a vow (κατ᾿ εὐχήν; 135). The text reports: ‘On 19 Loos, Menophilos was taken by dreadful fear, and (the cult of) Great Zeus of Menophilos was founded’ (Μηνόφιλος [κ]ατεπλήχθη δε[ινῶς καὶ] ἐκτίσθη Ζεὺς Μέγας Μηνοφίλου). L.-W. assume that Menophilos’ dread was caused by an epiphany and a vision, in which Menophilos experienced ‘his’ Great Zeus. [One cannot exclude the possibility of divine punishment. In the narrative of the miracle of Zeus at Panamara (I.Stratonikeia 10), when Zeus’ fire burned the weapons of the enemy and a sudden storm terrified the assailants, ‘many were those who deserted, asking for forgiveness and crying out with loud voice “Great is Zeus Panamaros”’ (ἔτι δὲ ἀναβοών[των] μεγάλῃ τῇ φωνῇ Μέγαν εἶναι Δία Πανάμαρον). In addition to providing a further parallel for the name of a god followed by the name of the cult founder in the genitive (see infra andnos. 79 and 88), this text is a nice example of a spontaneous acclamation (‘Zeus is great’), which follows upon a personal experience with divine power; the acclamation becomes the epithet of the god, whose cult is founded as a result of this personal experience; in this case, the cult ultimately became a public cult. On such acclamations see A. CHANIOTIS, “Acclamations as a Form of Religious Communication”, in H. CANCIK – J. RÜPKE (eds.), Die Religion des Imperium Romanum. Koine und Konfrontationen, Tübingen, 2009, p. 199-218]. A sacrificial table was dedicated by a group of hieroi to Zeus Olympios Kersoullos (137); the centre for the cult of Zeus Kersoullos was in the territory of Hadrianoi (I.Hadrianoi 1-8), from where it was introduced to Aizanoi; the epithet Olympios was hitherto unattested for Zeus Kersoullos. As an epigram reports, a dedication to Kore was made upon the goddess’ command, which had been given in a dream: ‘we have made this altar for the golden Kore, as she commanded in nightly dreams. And you, blessed one, be propitious and protect the house; and Hekate may assist you’ (τᾷ χρυσᾷ τὸν βωμὸν ἐδειμάμεθα ἐνθάδε Κούρᾳ, | ὡ[ς] κέλετο ἐννυχίοισιν ὀνείρασι· καὶ σύ, μάκαιρα, | εἵλαος ἀμύνοιο δόμοις τε Ἑκάτα συναρήγοι) [we correct the typo ἀμνύνοιο to ἀμύνοιο]. Other dedications are addressed to Asklepios (by a hieros; 139: κυρίῳ Ἀσληπιῷ); Hosion kai Dikaion (134; cf. 133), Meter Theon (130); Meter Thea Epiktetos (131, an altar: [Μητρ]ὶ θεᾷ Ἐπίκτητ[ος]) [the epithet Epiktetos is unattested; perhaps one should read [Μητρ]ὶ θεᾷ Ἐπικτήτ[ου], i.e. the Goddess Mother, whose cult was
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founded by Epiktetos; for such theonyms see supra (Zeus of Menophilos), infra nos. 79 and 88, and EBGR 2000, 108 and 2003, 31; 2003, 177; 2005, 45-46]; Meter Es[--] (132); Zeus [--]eteos (136), Zeus Sabazios (138). As regards the hieroi (137 and 139), L.-W. plausibly point out that in these inscriptions this term does not designate subordinate personnel of sanctuaries; it expresses personal devotion to a god. A dedication to an anonymous deity was made on the basis of a promise (140: [ὑπὲρ αὑτοῦ καὶ τῶ]ν ἰδίων ἐπ| [αγγειλάμενος ἀ]νέθηκεν) [or ἐπ᾿ | [vac. ἀγαθῷ ἀ]νέθηκεν]. Most dedications were made in fulfilment of vows (εὐχήν: 130, 132, 136; ὑπὲρ εὐχῆς: 134). Acclamations: An acclamation written on an altar praises an anonymous god, Hosion, kai Dikaion (133; ἷς θεὸς ἐν οὐρανῷ· μέγα τὸ Ὅσιον, μέγα τὸ Δίκαιον); the combination of ‘the one god’ and Hosion kai Dikaion was already attested (e.g. TAM V.1.146), and M. Ricl suspected that the ‘one god’ may be Helios. K.-W. observe that in the new text the acclamation μέγα τὸ Δίκαιον was added by a different hand; originally, the text may have been ἷς θεὸς ἐν οὐρανῷ· μέγα τὸ Ὅσιον. [For the relationship between Hosios/ Hosion and Hosion kai Dikaion and the ‘one god’ one should take into consideration the entire material and the specific features of religious acclamations (cf. supra); my impression is that the pair Hosion kai Dikaion was regarded as a subordinate divinity.] Funerary cult: A funerary altar was dedicated to Apollon and the deceased person (77, Imperial period); altars dedicated to gods and deceased persons are almost exclusively attested in Dorylaion and Nakoleia; they are usually dedicated to Zeus Bronton. An epitaph uses the funerary imprecation τίς ἂν προσάξῃ χεῖραν τὴν βαρύχθονον, Ἑκάτης μελαίνης περιπέσοιτο συνφορᾷ (118, 3rd cent. CE) [we point to the use of βαρύχθονον instead of the usual βαρύφθονον; the translation ‘frevlerische Hand’ is not accurate]. A deceased person is designated as a heros (125). Piety: In an epitaph the deceased person has the attribute θεοσεβής (128) [not necessarily related to the group of the theosebeis, for which see EBGR 1998, 190].
189 74) É. LHÔTE, Les lamelles oraculaires de Dodone, Geneva, 2006 [BE 2007, 339]: We will return to this important publication in more detail in the next issue of EBGR. Here, we briefly summarize its content. L. presents critical editions of 167 oracular enquires from Dodona (only already known texts), with ample linguistic commentary. This material, especially the enquires of private individuals (nos. 18-153), is a very important source of information for religious mentalities.
190 75) C.C. LORBER – O.D. HOOVER, “An Unpublished Tetradrachm Issued by the Artists of Dionysos”, NC 163 (2003), p. 59-68 [SEG LV 1973]: L.-H. publish a unique coin (a wreathed tetradrachm) issued by the Ionian and Hellespontine branch of the Dionysiac artists (τῶν περὶ τὸν Διόνυσον τεχνιτῶν) and probably minted at Teos (c. 155-145). It was part of a one-time emission, possibly to commemorate an important event (perhaps the foundation of the Ἀτταλισταί by the leader of the association, the flutist Kraton). The coins of this emission may have been given to foreign guests or as prizes to participants in competitions. In connection with this important find, the authors review the epigraphic evidence for the various branches of the associations of Dionysiac artists and especially for the Tean branch under the leadership of Kraton and its links to the Pergamene court.
191 76) B. MACLACHLAN, “Kollyra’s Curse”, MEP 9/10 (2004/05), p. 249-256: M. republishes a prayer for justice from Lokroi Epizephyrioi (3rd cent.; IG XIV 644) and compares it with similar curses written by victims of injustice – in this case the victim of theft (cf. I.Knidos 147-148; SEG XXXVIII 1568) – and with confession inscriptions [cf. EBGR 2004,
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44]. We present M.’s translation: ‘Kollyra consecrates (ἀνιαρίζει) to the attendants of the goddess – her cloak, the dark-coloured one, that someone took and is not giving back, and – uses it and knows where it is. Let this person dedicate to the goddess (ἀνθείη τᾶι θεῶι) twelve times its worth with half a medimnus of incense, as the city requires (ὧι πόλις νομίζει). May the one who has my cloak not breathe freely (μὴ πρότερον τὰν ψυχὰν ἀνείη) until he makes the dedication to the goddess. Kollyra consecrates to the attendants of the goddess (ἀνιαρίζει ταὶς προπόλοις τᾶς θεῶ) the three gold coins which Melita took and is not giving back. Let her dedicate to the goddess twelve times their worth with a medimnus of incense as the city requires. May she not breathe freely until she has made the dedication to the goddess. If she should drink with me or eat with me and I do not know it, or go under the same roof as I, may I be unharmed’. [The unparalleled expression ψυχὴν ἀνίημι may not refer to breathing (cf. πνεῦμα ἀνίημι) but to the burden on the thief’s soul and conscience.] The reference to the sacred personnel (of the sanctuary of Persephone?), which shows the public nature of this curse, finds a parallel in a judicial prayer from Delos (A. HAUVETTE-BESNAULT, “Fouilles de Delphes”, BCH 6 [1882], p. 500-502: δέομαι πάντας τοὺς θερ[α]πευτὰς βλασφημεῖν αὐτὴν καθ᾿ ἱ[ε]ράν). [Cf. a Latin ‘prayer for justice’ from Saguntum (EBGR 2000, 40). A slave (Chryse), who was the victim of theft by another slave, invoked Iao and donated to him the stolen money, expecting the god to punish the thief. The defigens also promised a reward to a cult functionary for his services (do pecuniam onori sacricola). A reward for the cult personnel makes sense only if the cult personnel were involved in the ritualised cession of the stolen property – perhaps also in the cursing; on this subject see A. CHANIOTIS, “Ritual Performances of Divine Justice: The Epigraphy of Confession, Atonement, and Exaltation in Roman Asia Minor”, in H.M. COTTON et al. (eds.), From Hellenism to Islam: Cultural and Linguistic Change in the Roman Near East, Cambridge, 2009, p. 115-153]. M. notes the literary qualities of Kollyra’s text, its visibility, and the expectation that the goddess’ attendants will be executors of the divine power [or involved in a curse ceremony].
192 77) V. MALAMIDOU, Roman Pottery in Context. Fine and Coarse Wares from Five Sites in North- Eastern Greece, Oxford, 2005 [BE 2006, 94]: M. presents stamped vases found at the sanctuary of Heros Auloneites at Kepia in Macedonia (p. 61f.; Imperial period; cf. EBGR 1992, 117). The stamps are inscribed with the texts ἥρωος and υἱέ. The stamps indicate that this pottery was locally produced for the sanctuary [cf. ead., “For Middle Roman Ceramic Groups from Eastern Macedonia”, in M.B. BRIESE – L.E. VAAG (eds.), Trade Relations in the Eastern Mediterranean from the Late Hellenistic Period to Late Antiquity. The Ceramic Evidence, Odense, 2005, p. 106].
193 78) H. MALAY, “A New Dedication from the Katakekaumene”, EA 39 (2006), p. 84-85: Ed. pr. of a fragmentary and puzzling text from Maionia (Imperial period), which M. plausibly interprets as a ‘confession inscription’. The verb ἐπιζητέω (line 2) is typically used in confession inscriptions in connection with divine punishment. A woman explains (according to M.’s translation): ‘therefore, deceived by Menas, I set up (this stele) for the distressed (or: others) as well (ἀνέθηκα καὶ πρὸς τοὺς ἐπιλύπους), so that no-one would experience the same sufferings. He (Menas) wanted to - - to my body (or: slave); for this reason, I read out… (invoked) and asked (the goddess) and performed to the outmost of my ability the things that needed to be done (ἀναλέξασα καὶ ἐρωτήσασα κ[α]ὶ κ[α]ὶ τὰ ἐνδέουντ[α] κατὰ τὸ δυνατὸν ποήσασα), so that also the distressed ones (or: others) would receive (divine) favour (ἔχουσιν φορ[ά]ν). Because of
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this I invoked her and they asked the goddess and the (gods) with her (ἐρώτησαν τὴν θεὸν καὶ [τ]οὺς σὺν αὐτῇ) to receive Sim[--]; I myself and all my folks (also asked the goddess)’. [M. points out that ἐπίλυποι may stand for ἐπίλοιποι (the others), which I find more probable. Instead of ἀναλέξασα (‘read out’, ‘invoke’?, or ‘select’?), perhaps we should read [----]ανα λέξασα (the reading of the first letters is not certain). The expression ἔχουσιν φορ[ά]ν (‘receive favour’) is problematic. I understand ΣΙΜ[..]Ν αὐτὴν σχεῖν, καὶ ἐγὼ [κ]αὶ πάντες οἱ ἐμοί differently: ἔχω αὐτήν (sc. τὴν θεόν) ΣΙΜ[..]Ν, i.e. ‘to have the goddess + attribute (e.g. propitious), both I and all my people’; for this construction cf. the formulas ἔχειν τὸν θεὸν κεχολωμένον/ἵλεον etc. Unfortunately, the attribute cannot be restored.]
194 79) H. MALAY, “Some Inscriptions from Lydia up for Auction”, EA 39 (2006), p. 87-97: M. identifies Lydia as the provenance of a group of stelae offered for sale by Edgar Lowen. He reads the texts from the photos. This material includes dedications to Thea Andene (1, 278 CE), whose cult is attested for the first time, and to Meter Motyllene (2), whose cult epithet (attested here for the first time) derives from Motula (cf. Mes Motyllites). The epitaphs include two for priests (10 and 15). One of them is of particular interest (10, 93 CE). It mentions a hereditary priest of Zeus Drittes (γεγενημένῳ ἱερεῖ τοῦ Διὸς Δριττου διὰ γένους). M. points out that Zeus Driktes is already attested. [Unfortunately, because of the genitive τοῦ Διὸς Δριττου we cannot say whether the cult name is Ζεὺς Δρίττης/Δρίκτης or Ζεὺς Δριττου/Δρικτου, i.e. a cult of Zeus founded by Drittes/Driktes; on this phenomenon see supra no. 73.]
195 80) H. MALAY, “Three Dedications to Zeus Keraunios”, EA 39 (2006), p. 103-104: Ed. pr. of three dedications to Zeus Keraunios, from Lydia (1), Maionia (2), and the Kaystros Valley (3), all of them from the Imperial period. Two of them were made in fulfilment of vows (2-3: εὐχήν). The third dedication was made by a man for the rescue of his daughter (3: [ὑπὲρ] τῆς θυγατρὸς σωτηρίας). 196 81) H. MALAY – M. RICL, “Some Funerary Inscriptions from Lydia”, EA 39 (2006), p. 49-82: Ed. pr. of an epitaph from north-east Lydia with a funerary imprecation (36, 122 CE): ‘if anyone does wrong against this stele, may he never find (Mes) Axiottenos merciful‘ (εἰ δέ τις προσαμάρτῃ ταύτῃ τῇ στήλλῃ, τοῦ Ἀξιοττηνοῦ μηδέποτε εἵλεος τύχοιτο). In another epitaph from Kole (44, Imperial period) the deceased person is called ἥρως.
197 82) F. MALTOMINI, “Una lamella d’oro del Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Cividale del Friuli”, ZPE 156 (2006), p. 103-108 [BE 2007, 48]: Ed. pr. of a gold lamella contained in a gold capsule found near Pozzuolo (Udine, 4th cent. CE). The lamella is inscribed with a phylactery. The text begins with an invocation of Arsamon (Horos, the son of Amon), asked to save the owner of the amulet (Ἀρσαμων, τρίμορφε, σῷζε, σῷζε). The following words (παρθέναι, ἀμύντα, πρωτομάχοε) are interpreted by M. as attributes of Arsamon (‘vergine, difensore, combattente in prima linea’). The rest of the text consists of magical words and names, including very common formulae such as αβλαναθαναλβα ακραμαχαμαρι, Ἰαώ, Σαβαώ, and σενσεγενβαρφαρανγης σεμεσειλαμ [cf. e.g. SEG LIII 1110].
198 83) C. MAREK, Die Inschriften von Kaunos, Munich, 2006: We only mention here the publication of this important corpus, which will be presented in detail in the next issue of EBGR.
199 84) A. MARTÍNEZ FERNÁNDEZ – N. TSATSAKI – N. KAPRANOS, “Una inscripción inédita de Chamalevri”, ZPE 157 (2006), p. 87-94 [BE 2007, 27]: Ed. pr. of a building inscription from
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Chamalevri, east of Rethymnon on Crete (2nd cent. BCE). It records the restoration of a sanctuary (ἀνεκαινί[σ]θη τὸ ἱαρόν). The text lists the members of the board of kosmoi and the man who proposed the decree.
200 85) L. MIGEOTTE, “La haute administration des finances publiques et sacrées dans les cités grecques”, Chiron 36 (2006), p. 379-394 [BE 2007, 168]: Surveying the epigraphic material from Boiotia, Miletos, Pergamon, Priene, Magnesia on the Maeander, Thasos, Arkesine, Ephesos, Samos, Smyrna, and other cities, M. demonstrates that the Greek cities undertook efforts to establish a coherent and efficient administration of public and sacred funds (ἱερὰ χρήματα, ἱεροὶ πρόσοδοι). M. comments on magistrates responsible for sacred funds, such as ἐπὶ τῶν ἱερῶν προσόδων (Pergamon), νεωποίης (Priene), ταμίας τῶν ἱερῶν (Samos), ταμίας τῶν ἱερῶν προσόδων (Smyrna), and οἰκονόμοι τῶν ἱερῶν χρημάτων (Ephesos). 201 86) N.P. MILNER, “Ancient Inscriptions and Monuments from the Territory of Oinoanda”, AS 54 (2004), p. 47-78 [SEG LIV 1417, 1424; BE 2006, 385]: M. republishes a funerary imprecation (29, 2nd/3rd cent.), which uses the formula ἔστω ἐπάρατος θεοῖς καὶ θεαῖς, and the epitaph of a former high priest of the imperial cult, who is designated as ἥρως (1, IGR III 1506, 2nd cent. CE). 202 87) A. NICHOLS – R. WAGMAN, “Three Perirrhanteria from the Epidaurian Asclepieum”, ZPE 155 (2006), p. 137-138: Ed. pr. of three inscribed perirrhanteria from the sanctuary of Asklepios in Epidauros. One of them was dedicated by a woman (1, undated). A second was dedicated by a Euarchidas to Athena (2); this man dedicated also a perirrhanterion in the sanctuary of Apollon Maleatas (IG IV² 174). The third inscription is very fragmentary.
203 88) P.M. NIGDELIS, Ἐπιγραφικὰ Θεσσαλονίκεια. Συμβολὴ στὴν πολιτικὴ καὶ κοινωνικὴ ἱστορία τῆς ἀρχαίας Θεσσαλονίκης, Thessalonike, 2006 [BE 2007, 377]: N. publishes and (re)publishes 75 inscriptions of Thessalonike with thorough commentaries. New texts are marked with an asterisk. Cult associations: A large part of the book is dedicated to associations. N. republishes an important list of the members of a σπεῖρα, a Dionysiac association (p. 101-128; SEG XLIX 814; EBGR 1999, 144; c. 200-250 CE), with several new readings and restorations of sacred officials: [ναρθη]κοφόρος (A 6), ἱερεύς (A 10, instead of [ἀρ]χιερεύς), ἀ[ρχικ]ρανεάρχης (Α 17), μα[γαρεύς] (Α 18). N. comments inter alia on the size of the association (at least 30 members), the existence of at least four ἀρχιμύσται, which may be an indication that the association was divided into smaller subdivisions, the various sacred officials (ἀρχιμύστης, παλαιομύστης, ἀρχιμαγαρεύς ἀθύτου, ἀρχικρανεάρχης, γάλλαρος, ἀρχιγάλλαρος, ναρθηκοφόρος, ἀρχιλαμπαδηφόρος, νεβριαφόρος, νεβρίνη), and the possible origin of the members in Asia Minor. N. follows P. Boyancé in interpreting the title μήτηρ σπείρας as an indication that the myth of Semele was represented during the rituals. [More probably, it is an honorary title of the type πατήρ πόλεως, θυγάτηρ βουλῆς etc.]. A new text (p. 129-134 no. 2*, 218 CE) attests for the first time an association of worshippers of Dionysos Mousaiou Horophoros (Mousaios being the founder of the cult). It is a dedication of an altar and a magaron made by an ἀρχιμαινάς and a μαγαρεύς. Dionysos Horophoros was probably associated with the seasons (ὧραι) as patron of fertility. An interesting dedication (p. 168-177 no. 8*, 1st/2nd cent.) provides information concerning the banquets organised by the worshippers of Theos Hypsistos (cf. the term συνκλῖται; cf. IG X 2.1, 68-72). A funerary inscription (p. 135-146 no. 3 = IG X 2.1, 480, 2nd/3rd cent.) is reconstructed as an
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epitaph dedicated by Ἀσκληπιασταί καὶ Βακχεῖον Ἀσιανῶν for the musician Memnon. An association for the worship of Asklepios was hitherto unattested in Thessalonike. A Βακχεῖον Ἀσιανῶν is attested in Perinthos (I.Perinthos 56). N. suggests that the word θρησκεία ([Θ]ρησκία τῶν Ἀσκληπιαστῶν καὶ β[ακχε]ίου Ἀσιανῶν) implies that Memnon, member of both associations was recipient of a funerary cult. [An alternative interpretation is that the term θρησκεία does not have its usual meaning (worship and piety; see now EBGR 2004, 85), but is used as a designation of a cult association of θρησκευταί (worshippers) of both Asklepios and Dionysos.] Another epitaph (p. 147-151 no. 4*) was set up by a hitherto unattested association (συνήθεις) for the worship of ‘Artemis Gourasia, whose sanctuary is near Acherdos (the Wild Pear)’ (Γουρασίας [Ἀ]ρτέμιδ[ος] τῆς πρὸς τῇ Ἀχέρδῳ). Another epitaph was set up by two associations: the [συνήθεις περὶ] Δημᾶ and the [συνήθεια? Ἀρτέ]μιδος Ἀκραίας; 152-159 no. 5*, 117 CE). An association for the worship of Herakles (συνήθεις Ἡρακλέους; cf. IG X 2.1, 288-289 and SEG XLIII 462) honoured its deceased priest (160-162 no. 6*, 2nd cent. CE). Another epitaph (of a perfume merchant) was set up by the association of worshippers of Poseidon (note the unusual designation as συνήθεια ἡ ἐπὶ τοῦ Ποσειδῶνος; p. 163-167 no. 7*, ca. 150-200). The secretary of the association donated a jug (κατάχυσις) and a handle (χειρολαβή). The fragmentary statute of an association concerns the burial of its members; the identity of this association cannot be determined, but, as one can infer from the expression κατὰ τὰς δοχάς, it organised banquets (196-201 no. 13*, early 3rd cent. CE). Other associations, which dedicated epitaphs for their members, include a cult association for Nemesis (συνήθια τῆς Νεμέσεος; p. 178-183 no. 9*), an association of worshippers of ‘the hero Aineias’, i.e. the founder of Aineia (206-211 no. 15, 125 CE), professional associations (mule-drivers: 184-188 no. 10*; makers of garlands: p. 188-191 no. 11*), and a unique association of φιλοπαίκτορες, ‘lovers of jokes’ or ‘lovers of entertainment/entertainers’ (191-196 no. 12*) [cf. EBGR 1999, 20, on an association dedicated to recreational celebrations]. These inscriptions provide information concerning the officials of the cult associations: ἀρχισυνάγωγος (4, 6, 15), γραμματεύς (5, 7-8, 14-15), ὑπογραμματεύς (15), ἐξεταστής (4-5, 14), ἐπιμελητής (14), ἱέρεια (5), ἱερεύς (6), and [--]φύλαξ, perhaps [γραμματο]φύλαξ /4). N. also restores a fragmentary honorary inscription of an association of worshippers of the Egyptian gods (211-216 no. 16 = IG X 2.1, 16). Cult officials: We note the epitaph of a sacerdos (p. 325-327 no. 16*). Ruler cult: An inscribed base of a statue of Alexander the Great dedicated by the city; Alexander is designated as the son of Zeus (βασιλέα μέγαν Διὸς Ἀλέξανδρον; p. 59-64 no. 7, late 2nd/early 3rd cent.; cf. IG X 2.1, 275). The abundant evidence for the Imperial cult includes a dedication to Livia (p. 35-40 no. 1*); a dedication by a high priest of the Sebastoi and agonothetes for the well-being of Septimius Severus (p. 56-59 no. 6 = IG X 2.1, 138; in L. 7 N. restores [ἀρχιερεὺς τῶν Σεβασ]τῶν καὶ ἀγων[οθέτης τοῦ Κοινοῦ τῶν Μακεδόνων]); a dedication for the well-being of Septimius Severus (p. 70-72 no. 9*); three invitations to munera by the high priest of the provincial imperial cult (p. 73-93 no. 10 = EBGR 2000, 205; SEG XLV 816-817, 252-260 CE). Festivals: As regards the festival, in which the sponsor of no. 10 served as agonothetes in 259 CE, N. rejects the restoration [τῶν μεγάλ]ων Καισαρίων Πυθίων and suggests restoring [τῶν Ἀκτίων Καβειρί]ων Καισαρίων Πυθίων. N. suspects that this festival (to be distinguished from the Kaisareia Epinikia Kabeiria Pythia, celebrated in 260 CE), was introduced in 255 CE, after the successful repulsion of the Goths. The volume includes several epitaphs of gladiators
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(231-248 nos. 3-6*). Funerary cult: In addition to the inscriptions, which concern the burial of members of associations (see supra), there are epitaphs in which the deceased person is called ἥρως (p. 253-257 no. 8*). As regards the terminology of funerary monuments, we single out the terms τρινχός = θριγκός (enclosure of a burial ground; p. 363-366 no. 3*). A very interesting monument is a fragmentary sarcophagus of unknown provenance (p. 405-408 no. 15, early 3rd cent. CE) [a pierre errante from Asia Minor?]. The text invokes Hosion kai Dikaion, obviously to protect the grave: Ὅσιον, Δίκεον· σὸν βλέπεις. The phrase σὸν βλέπεις informs the passer-by that what he sees, is his own destiny: death. In an Appendix (p. 411-491) N. presents the text of 60 inscriptions from other places, concerning either Thessalonike or individuals from this city (all of them known texts, which we do not include in this presentation).
204 89) D. PANDERMALIS, “Δῖον 2005. Ἀνασκαφή, ἔργα ἀνάδειξης καὶ disjecta membra”, AEMTh 19 (2005) [2007], p. 373-379 [SEG LV 679]: P. reports the discovery of the lower part of a marble statue of Zeus with an inscribed base (Dion, 211 CE; p. 375). The statue was dedicated by the priest C. Postumius. This priest was already known from an inscription in the sanctuary of Zeus Hypsistos. He also mentions a marble relief plaque with the representation of a rider and a snake (p. 376, late Classical period); it was set as an epitaph for a heroized man.
205 90) D. PANDERMALIS, “Δῖον 2006”, AEMTh 20 (2006) [2008], p. 567-575: D. presents a dedication to Asklepios Soter found re-used in a bath (Dion, Imperial period; p. 574) [on the sanctuary of Asklepios in Dion see S. PINGIATOGLOU, “Δῖον 2004-2006. Ἀνασκαφικὲς ἔρευνες στὸ ἱερὸ τοῦ Ἀσκληπιοῦ καὶ στὴν πόλη τῶν ἑλληνιστικῶν χρόνων”, ibid., p. 577-586].
206 91) R. PARKER, “Ὡς ἥρωι ἐναγίζειν”, in Greek Sacrificial Ritual, p. 37-45: P. points out that the ancient sources do not make a distinction between ‘Olympian’ and ‘chthonic’ sacrifice, distinguishing instead between sacrifices to gods (θύω) and sacrifices to heroes (ἐναγίζω; cf. the cult regulation of Selinous concerning purification: SEG XLIII 630). The Attic sacrificial calendars (LSCG Suppl. 19; LSCG 18; IG I³ 256 bis) show that sacrifices to heroes were occasionally followed by feasts. Although generalizations should be avoided, common features of heroic sacrifice include the burning of more meat than in normal sacrifice, the slaughtering of victims into the ground, the consumption of the meat on the spot (prohibition of ἀποφορά), and the pouring of blood into pits.
207 92) C. PERISTERI – V. CHALKIOPOULOU, “Πρώτη ἀνασκαφικὴ ἔρευνα στὸ Σιδηρόκαστρο στὴ θέση «Μαῦρος Βράχος» κατὰ τὸ 2005”, AEMTh 19 (2005) [2007], p. 129-144 [BE 2007, 382; SEG LV 688]. Ed. pr. of a dedication to Apollon found in the area of a rural sanctuary of Apollon at the site Mavros Vrachos near Siderokastron Serron in Macedonia (area of Herakleai Sintike; p. 131, 4th cent.).
208 93) M.F. PETRACCIA, “Donne e culti nelle province romane dell’impero. Il caso della Macedonia”, in Donna e vita, p. 431-438: Collection of attestations of priestesses and high priestesses of the imperial cult in Roman Macedonia (Beroia, Thessalonike, Styberra, Stobi, Kissa, Philippi) and discussion of their title, family relations, and economic background. She argues that the ἀρχιέρειαι occupied this office as wives of high priests.
209 94) M.-Z. PETROPOULOU, “A Seleucid Settlement on Falaika”, EA 39 (2006), p. 139-147: An important inscription from Ikaros/Falaika in the Persian Gulf containing a letter of a
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Seleucid king concerning the sanctuary of Soteira, its asylia, and the establishment of a musical and athletic contest (SEG XX 411; most recent edition in I.Estremo Oriente 421-422). Different dates have been suggested for this text, which is of great significance for the religious policy of the Seleucid, ranging from 241 to 166 BCE. After examining a squeeze, P. restores the date as the 74th year of the Seleucid era (238/7 BCE) and identifies the king as Seleukos II. She also suggests that the king’s aim was not to re-people a depopulated settlement, but to unite small settlements into one.
210 95) G. PETZL – E. SCHWERTHEIM, Hadrian und die dionysischen Künstler. Drei in Alexandria Troas neugefundene Briefe des Kaisers an die Künstler-Vereinigung, Bonn, 2006: This is certainly the most important inscription published this year (only three years after its discovery!). It is a dossier of three letters (90 lines) sent by Hadrian to the Dionysiac artists with his instructions concerning the organisation of contests – inter alia, the duties of agonothetai and other authorities, money prizes for winners of contests, membership in the association of artists, and more importantly the establishment of a cycle of contests in a strict sequence (Stratonikeia, 134 CE). We will present this text in detail in the next issue of the EBGR, incorporating remarks made by other scholars after its first edition.
211 96) O. PICARD, “Les χρήματα d’Apollon et les débuts de la monnaie à Delphes”, Topoi 12/13 (2005), p. 55-68 [BE 2006, 220; SEG LV 566]: P. examines some aspects of monetary practices in early Delphi. He argues that Delphi originally had an inventory of dedications (cf. Herod., I, 50-51; Diod., XVI, 27, 4), albeit not an inscribed one (p. 56-58). One should distinguish between dedications to Apollo, which were property of the god for ever, and temporary deposits (παρακαταθῆκαι) attested in CID IV 2 (cf. Plut., Lysandros, 18, 3). This fragmentary inscription does not concern banking activities, but gold and silver objects (including money) brought to the sanctuary for safety and deposited there (p. 58-61). Evidence for the early use of money for the payment of fines and contributions to the cult is provided by various inscriptions (late 6th-late 4th cent.): CID I 1-3, 8-9bis; BE 1970, 312 (p. 61-65). Already as early as the late 6th cent. the Amphiktyony estimated the expenses for the construction of the temple using the Aeginetan standard (Herod. II, 180; p. 65-67).
212 97) F. QUANTIN, “Le dieu Pan au féminin à Bouthrôtos : une influence italienne”, in É. DENIAUX (ed.), Le canal d’Otrante et la méditerranιe antique et médiévale. Colloque organisé à l’Universitι de Paris X – Nanterre (20-21 novembre 2000), Bari, 2005, p. 67-79: Q. republishes two dedications set up by the same man (Kasianos) for Pan Teletarches and Pasa in Bouthrotos (2nd/1st cent.) [EBGR 1988, 26]. Q. points out that there is evidence for an association of Pan with mystery cults and collects evidence for the connection of Pan with Dionysos. By contrast, although Pan was associated with goddesses (the Nymphs, Megale Meter, Meter Theon) in Greece, the existence of a female consort (Pasa) is only attested in South Italy and possibly in the Mycenaean Linear B texts (Pasaja). A detailed study of the literary and iconographical evidence for divine dyads in Italy (Faunus and Fauna, Silvanus and Silvana, Liber and Libera) suggests that Kasianos’ dedication was the result of cultural influence from Italy.
213 98) N. RADEVA GIROD, “Les mystères d’Andania. Traduction de l’inscription no. 65 de Lois Sacrées des cités grecques, Sokolowski (1969)”, in Mélanges Hurst, p. 357-365: R.G. translates the text of the sacred regulation of the mysteries of Andania [see now supra no. 36].
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214 99) A. RETZLEFF – A. MAJEED MJELY, “Seat Inscriptions in the Odeum at Gerasa (Jerash)”, BASOR 336 (2004), p. 37-47 [SEG LIV 1691]: Publication of 30 inscriptions recording seat reservations in the north theatre of Gerasa [cf. already EBGR 2006, 3]. Most of them mention the names of tribes. The twelve tribes were named after deities (Aphrodite, Apollon, Artemis, Asklepios, Athena, Demeter, Hadrian, Hera, Herakles, Leto, Poseidon, Zeus).
215 100) N. ROBERTSON, “Sacrifice to the Sea: a Custom prior to the ‘Olympian’ and ‘Chthonian’ Categories?”, in Greek Sacrificial Ritual, p. 85-96: R. collects the evidence for a particular type of sacrifice, the plunging of animals into the sea. This custom is epigraphically attested in Rhodes (ἱπποκαθέσια: Tit.Cam. 153 = LSCG Suppl. 94; SEG XXXIX 759 lines 19/20). R. argues that it is a magic ritual of very early origin, which was gradually assimilated into normal animal sacrifice.
216 101) D. ROUSSET, “Les inscriptions de Kallipolis d’Étolie”, BCH 130 (2006), p. 381-434: Ed. pr. (p. 421 no. 20) of a very interesting dedication from Kallipolis (4th/3rd cent.): Νικὼ Νυκτί, Ἀρτέμιδι λυσίπονα τυχοῦσα τᾶς εὐχᾶς. A woman made a dedication to the personification of the Nights and to Artemis in fulfilment of a vow; the dedication is designated as ‘offering of deliverance from pain’ (λυσίπονα). Dedications to Nyx are very rare.
217 102) D. ROUSSET, “Affranchissements de Physkeis en Locride occidentale”, BCH 130 (2006), p. 349-379: Ed. pr. and republication of ten manumission records from the sanctuary of Athena in Physkos (west Lokris, 2nd cent.); the manumissions nos. 1-3 and 10 were already known (IG IX 2.1, 671 and 676a-b), but R. presents improved editions. The texts use various formulas: ἀπέδο(ν)το τᾶι Ἀθάναι τᾶι Ἰλιάδι (1-2, 6-7, 9-10); ἀπέδο(ν)το τᾶι Ἀθάναι τᾶι ἐμ Φυσκέοις (3); ἀνέθηκαν τᾶι Ἀθάν[αι τᾶι Ἰλιάδι] … ἱερὰν ἀνέφαπτον (4); ἀνέθηκε [τᾶι Ἀθάναι τᾶι Ἰλιάδι … ὥστε ἱερὸς εἶμεν καὶ ἀνέφαπτος?] καὶ ἐλεύθερος (5?) [accusative plural rather than nominative singular: [ὥστε ἱερὸς εἶμεν καὶ ἀνεφάπτος?] καὶ ἐλευθέρος]; [ἀνέθηκε … τᾶι Ἀθάναι τᾶι Ἰ]λιάδι … [ὥστε ἱερὰ εἶμεν τᾶς Ἀθ]άνας τᾶς Ἰλιάδος (9). The texts are usually dated with reference to the agonothetes of the Lokrian koinon (1-5, 7, 9). As regards the calendar, some months are designated with numerals (1-4, 7), but there are also references to the months Panamos in Kallipolis (3), Agreios in the Dymanes (5), Hychaios in Physkos (6), and Hermaios (10). R. also publishes an inscription copied by P. Jamot from the area of Malandrino (territory of Physkos or Kallipolis, 11). The fragmentary text is a dedication to a series of deities: [--]ετῆρι (Γενετῆρι?), Zeus Agoraios, [Arte]mis or [The]mis Agoraia, Zeus Odarios, [--] Odaria, and the Charites (?; Χαρίτοις for Χάρισι) [this anomalous form is not inconceivable; cf. μάρτυροι for μάρτυρες in nos. 2-3, 5, 6-8]. 218 103) I. RUTHERFORD, “Andros at Delphi. CID 1.7 and Insular Theoria”, in J. CHRYSOSTOMIDES, C. DENDRINOS, J. HARRIS (eds.), The Greek Islands and the Sea. Proceedings of the First International Colloquium held at The Hellenic Institute, Royal Holloway, University of London, 21-22 September 2001, Surray, 2004, p. 59-75: R. discusses the theoriai sent by Greek islands to Delphi, focusing on the regulations relating to a theoria of Andros (CID I 7; LSCG Suppl. 38; 5th cent.). He reconstructs the procedure of the theoria and discusses possible historical contexts. Evidence for Andrian theoriai is provided by the Delphic accounts, which mention Andrian delegations (CID II 22/23), but also by a paian of Simonides (PMG 35f ed. Page; ca. 510-480), which suggests an early date for this
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regulation (ca. 500-480). A comparison with the treaty between Skiathos and Delphi concerning a theoria (CID I.13) suggests that the regulation concerning the Andrian theoria was an Andrian sacred law and not a treaty.
219 104) C. SCHULER, “Inschriften aus dem Territorium von Myra in Lykien: Istlada”, Chiron 36 (2006), p. 395-451. C. publishes 23 inscriptions found in an ancient settlement at Istlada (in the territory of Myra). Most texts are inedita. There is only one dedication: the statue of a man was posthumously dedicated to the gods by his father and brother (1; late Hellenistic or early Imperial period). All the other texts are epitaphs, usually mentioning fines for the violation of the grave (3rd cent. BCE-2nd cent CE). We note numerous funerary imprecations with the formulas ἁμαρτωλὸς ἔστω θεοῖς χθονίοις/ καταχθονίοις (2-3, 6, 9, 14-15, 19), ἔστω ἀσεβὴς θεοῖς καταχθονίοις (12, 21), and ἁμαρτωλὸς ἔστω θεοῖς (18). 220 105) H. SIARD, “Un règlement trouvé dans le Réservoir de l’Inopos à Délos”, BCH 130 (2006), p. 329-348: Ed. pr. of a regulation for the protection of a water reservoir (not a river) called Inopos in Delos; the regulation, probably the Hellenistic copy of a regulation of the Classical period, forbids washing, bathing and throwing stones in the river; violators were liable to a fine of five drachmas, payable to the sanctuary of Apollon. In an appendix, S. rejects the assumption that there was a sanctuary or cult of Inopos on Delos.
221 106) K. SISMANIDIS, “Ὁ χῶρος Ε στὸ συγκρότημα τοῦ Σεβαστείου τῶν Καλινδοίων”, AEMTh 20 (2006) [2008], p. 249-262: Two new epigraphic finds. An inscription found near room E of the Sebasteion reports that the sons of the priest of Zeus, Roma, and Augustus (ἱερέως Διὸς καὶ Ῥώμης καὶ Αὐτοκράτορος Καίσαρος Θεοῦ Υἱοῦ Σεβαστοῦ) erected an exedra, a bouleuterion, and a porticus in 88 CE. The bouleuterion may in fact be room E.
222 107) C. SOURVINOU-INWOOD, “Hermaphroditos and Salmakis: The Voice of Halikarnassos”, in The Salmakis Inscription, p. 59-84: S. offers an extensive study of the myth of Hermaphroditos and its motifs in the light of the new metrical inscription from Halikarnassos (cf. supra nos. 32, 64-66).
223 108) J.-Y. STRASSER, “Une inscription de Kéramos, le coureur Politès et la Carie ‘Trachée’”, REA 106 (2004), p. 547-568 [SEG LIV 1082): S. republishes a fragmentary list of athletic victories from Keramos (I.Keramos 15, late 1st cent. CE). According to his restoration, the list records the victories of a runner (Polites of Keramos?; cf. Paus., VI, 13, 3-4) in enoplios, diaulos, and stadion at Syracuse, Apollonia (of Illyria), and Ephesos (Koinos tes Asias).
224 109) J. TAITA, “Proxenoi ‘santuariali’ all’oracolo di Zeus ad Olimpia: profilo giuridico e funzioni”, MEP 9/10 (2004/2005), p. 87-114 [SEG LIV 490]: T. studies the meaning and function of the proxenoi known from inscriptions in Olympia. Assuming the existence of an amphictyony in Olympia, which existed until c. 450 BCE, T. argues that the term proxenos designates sacred officials, possibly members of a board, sent by the member states of this amphictyony. The proxenoi offered assistance to worshippers but also had judicial authority (cf. the proxenoi of the Delphic amphictyony); e.g. they had the authority to remove from the altar of Zeus violators of treaties (IvOlympia 10) and individuals who had committed sacrilege (IvOlympia 13). The earliest attestation of the proxenoi (along with the sacred officials διαιτατέρ and θεοκόλος) is in an unpublished bronze tablet of the early 6th cent.
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225 110) P. THEMELIS, “Ἀνασκαφὴ Μεσσήνης”, PAAH 160 (2005) [2007], p. 39-65: Ed. pr. of several inscriptions found during the excavation in Messene. An honorary inscription for Hadrian was set up by Tib. Claudius Macer Campanus, the son of Tib. Claudius Saithidas Caelianus, high-priest and Helladarches of the Achaian Koinon for life (p. 43). A dedication found in the theatre was made by the agonothetes of the Dionysia (p. 44, late 3rd cent. BCE).
226 111) P. THONEMANN, “Neilomandros. A Contribution to the History of Greek Personal Names”, Chiron 36 (2006), p. 11-43 [BE 2007, 125]: T. collects and discusses personal names composed with Μανδρο- and -μανδρος. Such names, deriving from the name of the river Maiandros (not a god Mandros), are found scattered across the Greek world, but there is a concentration in Ionia (Magnesia on the Maeander, Miletos and its colonies, and Samos). Discussing the existence of double theophoric names (30-33), T. points out that such names are to be found only in Egypt (e.g. Horapollon, Hermanoubis); names such as Athenomandros, Dionysomandros, Dionysermos etc. are not double theophoric names, but composita of the name of a god and the name of a river. [Although T.’s view is supported by strong arguments, the derivation of the overwhelming majority of the mandros-names from the name of the river does not exclude the possibility that in some cases this river was worshipped as a god. Especially the names Mandrodoros, composed according to the common pattern of theophoric names in -doros (e.g. Apollodoros, Dionysodoros, Artemidoros etc.; discussed by T., ibid., p. 14 with reference to EBGR 1998, 65), and Mandronax (cf. Heronax, Helianax, Metronax, Poseidonax, Pythonax etc.), suggest that the bearers of these names attributed to the river divine status; cf. the remarks of L. DUBOIS, BE 2007, 125; for river- gods in Asia Minor see e.g. EBGR 1996, 107 (Kalykadnos); 2000, 178 (Aneinos), 180 (Meles), 187 (Euros); 2001, 80; 2004, 118].
227 112) S.R. TOKHTAS’EV, “The Bosporus and Sindike in the Era of Leukon I: New Epigraphic Publications”, ACSS 12 (1/2) (2006), p. 1-62: Detailed historical commentary on the historical context of two dedications made during the reign of Leukon I (c. 389-349): a dedication to Phoibos Apollon by Leukon I in commemoration of a military victory (Semibratnee near Gorgippia; SEG XLVIII 1027) and the dedication of a propylon to Dionysos in Nymphaion (SEG LII 741).
228 113) A. TZIAFALIAS – J.L. GARCÍA RAMÓN – B. HELLY, “Décrets inédits de Larissa”, BCH 130 (2006), p. 435-483: Ed. pr. of an inscription of Larisa containing three honorary decrees; the inscription was to be set up in the sanctuary of Apollon Kerdoos (Larisa, c. 169 BCE).
229 114) E. VARINLIOĞLU, “East of Halicarnassus”, in The Salmakis Inscription, p. 125-131: Ed. pr. of a fragmentary decree from Ouranion (1, Hellenistic period), with no comments. [The decree concerns major building activities in a sanctuary, probably of a goddess; it gives a board of functionaries the authorisation to move a statue (of the goddess?) and to tear down buildings, in order to improve the architectural setting), provides for funds, and allows these functionaries to sell building material from the sanctuary, which is no longer needed. I give an improved text and translation: [--- | vac. κάλ]λιστα ἔσεσθαι vac. | ἔχοντες τὴν ἐξουσίαν | καὶ ἀνελεῖν ἃ ἂν προαιρῶν|ται τῶν οἰκοδομημένων | πρότερον καὶ ὑπὸ τῶν ἄν|δρων τῶν πρὸ ἑαυτῶν καὶ | μετατιθέναι καὶ αὐτὸ τὸ | ἄγαλμα καὶ τὸ βῆμα αὐτῆς | χάριν τοῦ κατασκευασθῆ|ναι πάντα ὡς κάλλιστα· εἰς | δὲ τὰς ἐσομένας δαπά|νας ὑπαρχέτωσαν πόροι | οἵτινες καὶ πρότερον ὑπῆρ|χον τῆι κατασκευῆι | τοῦ ἱεροῦ καθ᾿ ὅ,τι τὰ ψηφίσ|ματα τὰ ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι ὑπάρ|χοντα περιέχει καὶ νῦν ἐν | τῶιδε τῶι ψηφίσματι γε|γραμμένοι εἰσίν· κατὰ τὰ αὐ|τὰ δὲ ἐχέτωσαν τὴν
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ἐ|ξουσίαν πωλεῖν ἅ τε ἂν | περισσεύηι αὐτοῖς ἐξ ὧν | ἐπιτελοῦσιν ἔργων ξύλων| ἢ καὶ ἄλλο τι καὶ ὅσα πρότ[ε]|ρον ὑπῆρχεν ἐν τῶι ἱε[ρῶι ---] (‘--- so that it/they may be as beautiful as possible, having the authorisation to tear down whichever construction they wish, of the buildings that had been constructed earlier by the men who were (responsible for the sanctuary?) before them, and also having the authorisation even to move the (cult) statue itself and her platform (i.e. the platform of the godess’ cult statue), so that everything may be constructed in the most beautiful manner. For the expenses, there shall be the same funds as the ones that existed before for the construction of the sanctuary, as it is stated in the decrees that are in the sanctuary, as well as those (funds) that are mentioned in this decree. In the same way, let them have the authorisation to shell the surplus of timber, from the constructions which they make, and anything else, which was in the sanctuary before ---’). Ed. pr. of an altar (?) for a Roman emperor (3).
230 115) E. VARINLIOĞLU, “Five inscriptions from Acmonia”, REA 108 (2006), p. 355-373 [BE 2007, 41]: Ed. pr. of an honorary decree for a priest of Athena Sebaste for life, who is praised for his piety (ἀνὴρ εὐσε[β]έστατος περὶ τοὺς Οὐρανίους καὶ περὶ τοὺς Σεβαστοὺς θεούς), for the dedication of a beautiful statue of Hermes (line 12: Ἑρμοῦ κάλλιστον ἀνδρειάντα), three other statues representing the people, the polis, and the gerousia, and a statue of Zeus Keraunios (Akmonia, 68 CE). [We note the distinction between the traditional gods (Οὐράνιοι) and the deified emperors (Σεβαστοί) and the designation of the statue of Hermes as an ἀνδριάς.] Τhe magistrates in the postscript include a priest of Aklepios Sebastos.
231 116) E. VARINLIOĞLU – P. DEBORD, “Hyllarima 2004”, AST 23.1 (2005) [2006], p. 117-122: The authors report the discovery of the right part of a stele edited by A. LAUMONIER (BCH 58 [1934], p. 345 no. 39). There is a Karian inscription on the top, followed by a Greek inscription that lists priests of Apollon (Hyllarima, 263/2 BCE).
232 117) C. VIAL, “À propos des concours de l’Orient méditerranéen à l’époque hellénistique”, Pallas 62 (2003), p. 311-328: V. presents an overview of the diffusion of agonistic festivals in Asia Minor and the East in the Hellenistic period.
233 118) M. VONDERSTEIN, Der Zeuskult bei den Westgriechen, Wiesbaden, 2006: Based on the literary, archaeological, and epigraphic evidence, V. discusses the cult of Zeus in the Greek colonies of Italy and Sicily. The largest part of the book is a description and analysis of the evidence for the cult of Zeus in the Greek cities. A short section (p. 217-228) is dedicated to a systematic discussion of general features of Zeus’ cult: epithets, location of the cult places, rituals, association and assimilation of Zeus with other gods, and the development of the cult. Among the inscriptions which are discussed in some detail we single out a dedication to Zeus Meilichios in Kroton (Arena IV 41; p. 29-32); the boundary stones of Zeus’ Agora and Zeus Aglaos (IGDGG II 42-44; p. 43-45) in Metapontion [on the problematic restoration Διὸς ἀγορα(ίου) cf. EBGR 2005, 51]; a dedication to Zeus Hikesios in Metapontion (IGDGG II 49; p. 53f.); a dedication to Zeus Xenios in Poseidonia (p. 66) [L. Dubois in IGDGG II 22 prefers not to amend the form Xeinos to Xenios]; a dedication to Zeus Soter in Lokroi Epizephyrioi (SEG XXIX 953; p. 104); a cippus of Zeus Orios in Elea (IGDS 51b; Arena V 36; p. 108-111); the Meilichios- stelae and the lex sacra of Selinous (SEG XLIII 630 = NGSL 27; p. 199-213); and an inscribed kerykeion dedicated to Zeus Hikesios and found somewhere in East Sicily (SEG XLVI 1297; EBGR 1997, 247). As regards the lex sacra of Selinous concerning purifications, V. argues that Zeus Meilichios enjoyed a public cult, in addition to the
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private worship (p. 213). He interprets the kerykeion of Zeus Hikesios as a dedication by a herald after the fulfilment of a difficult task to a patron god.
234 119) R. WACHTER, “Die griechischen Inschriften”, in R.A. STUCKY, Das Eschmun-Heiligtum von Sidon. Architektur und Inschriften, Basel, 2005, p. 319-331 [BE 2006, 461; SEG LV 1651-1654, 1658, 1660-1666, 1679]: W. publishes the inscriptions from the sanctuary of Asklepios / Eshmoun in Bostan esh-Sheikh (near Sidon); only one of these texts was previously known. The texts include an honorary inscription for an agonothetes and priest (?) of Thea Rhome (10) [the reference to the Augusti (lines 5f.: ἀρετῆς καὶ ε[ὐνοίας ἕνεκεν εἰς] | τοὺς Σεβ[αστούς), suggests that this man had also served as a high priest of the Imperial cult]. Two texts record building activities of individuals and professional associations (3, 11). One of them commemorates the construction of an ἀκτή (meeting and cult room?) by the guild of the makers of couches (τέχνῃ κλεινοπηγῶν) and its dedication to the emperor (2, 98 CE). A priest and high-priest [according to P.-L. GATIER, BE 2006, 461, priest of Asklepios and high priest of the ruler cult] made a dedication to Antiochos III, Laodike and their son Antiochos (4, c. 200-193) called θεοὶ σωτῆρες καὶ θεοὶ εὐεργέται. A dedication to Dionysos Kadmeios, i.e. the grandson of Kadmos of Sidon (5, 59 BCE), was made by Demokles, who served as hieraphoros during the celebration of a pentaeteric contest (ἱεραφορῶν ἐν τῶι πενταετηρικῶ[ι ἀσ]τικῶι ἀγῶνι) [P.L. GATIER, ibid., restores [ἰσελασ]τικῶι]. W. interprets the phrase τοῦ ᾿Απολλοφάνους ἱερέως as a dating formula. [P.L. GATIER, ibid., understands it as a reference to the dedicant’s grandfather: Δημοκλῆς Δημοκλέου[ς] τοῦ ᾿Απολλοφάνους ἱερέως (‘Demokles, son of Demokles, grandson of Artemidoros, the priest’)]. There are also six dedications to Asklepios (1-2, 6-9, 1st BCE-2nd cent. CE), made by associations of cutlery-makers (1, for the well-being of the guild: ὑπὲρ τοῦ κοινοῦ), by a priest of Mithras (6), by a man for members of his family (7), and by a man as expression of gratitude (εὐχαριστήριον). Asklepios has the attributes θεὸς ἅγιος (1-2, 6, 8) and ἅγιος (7). Another dedication is addressed to Aphrodite (7, undated). A small fragment mentions a high-priest (2).
235 120) C. WIKANDER, “The Practicalities of Ruler Cult”, in Greek Sacrificial Ritual, p. 113-120 [SEG LV 2095]: W. collects the epigraphic evidence for the cult of early Hellenistic kings (Lysimachos, Antigonos Monophthalmos, Demetrios Poliorketes, and Stratonike, Seleukos I, and Ptolemy I) established by cities and the Nesiotic League. The relevant evidence is limited to Athens and the Aegean basin (Euboia, Delos, Samothrace, Lemnos, Samos, coast of Asia Minor) [one may now add the cult of Philetairos in Kyme: SEG L 1195; EBGR 2000, 126]. The rituals (processions, sacrifices, contests, erection of cult statues) did not differ from those of pre-existing cults of gods, on which the ruler cult was modelled. W. concludes that the ruler cult was modelled on already existing patterns of worship [cf. A. CHANIOTIS, “Isotheoi timai : la divinité mortelle d’Antiochos III à Téos”, Kernos 20 (2007), p. 153-171].
236 121) M. YOUNI, “Maîtres et esclaves en Macédoine hellénistique et romaine”, in V.I. ANASTASIADIS – P. DOUKELLIS (eds.), Esclavage antique et discriminations socio-culturelles. Actes du XXVIIIe colloque international du Groupement International de Recherche sur l’Esclavage antique (Mytilène, 5-7 decembre 2003), Frankfurt, 2005, p. 183-196: Y. gives a very good overview of the information provided by the inscriptions of Macedonia concerning the manumission of slaves, often in the form of a dedication to a goddess (e.g., IG X 2.2, 18 and 233; SEG XXXVI 617; XXXVIII 632, XXXV 750). The most substantial part of this article treats the dedications of slaves to Meter Theon Autochthon in Leukopetra. Y.
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regards these dedications as ‘de véritables actes d’affranchissement, qui produisent tous les résultats juridiques’ and argues that they resulted in the liberation of the slaves, who were only obliged to serve in the sanctuary during the ἔθιμοι ἡμέραι. She rightly draws attention to the institution of παραμονή (cf. προσμένω in I.Leukopetra 25 and 37) and the use of a vocabulary similar to that known from manumission records (ἀνέγκλητος, ἀνεπέγκλητος, ἀνεπίβληπτος, ἀνύβριστος, μηδενὸς ἐξουσίαν ἔχοντος, μηδένα κυριώτερον εἶναι), arguing that the expression δῶρον δίδωμι corresponds to ἐλευθερόω (cf. the use of both expressions in I.Beroia 49). She interprets the term ὠνή as an indication that the manumitted slaves had paid a price for their manumission (192: ‘c’est l’emploi de ce terme qui indique que l’esclave, en fait, se rachetait. Le fait que le prix du rachat ne soit pas mentionné dans les sources épigraphiques n’est pas décisif’). She also comments on the registration of the donation (καταγραφή) and the decree of the governor of Tertullianus Acquila regulating manumissions in sanctuaries (212 CE). [Although the donations of slaves to the Mother of the Gods at Leukopetra certainly had legal implications that did not differ substantially from a manumission, the texts make clear that the dedicants regarded these acts as donations, not as manumissions; in many cases the donated slaves were children, in other cases the donation was explicitly in fulfilment of a vow, and there are also cases in which slaves were bought only in order to be dedicated (I.Leukopetra 57 and 78); in one case a lost slave was dedicated to the goddess in the hope that she would find him (I.Leukopetra 53); this clearly is not a manumission; for all these reasons one should make a distinction between manumissions and these donations of slaves (cf. EBGR 2000, 155). I should also add that ὠνή in these texts does not mean purchase but, generally, ‘title of ownership’.]
237 122) G.A. ZACHOS – S.P. DIMAKI, “Ἐλάτεια (Φωκίς). Ἱερὸ Ἀθηνᾶς Κραναίας. Τὸ ἀρχεῖο τοῦ Κοινοῦ τῶν Φωκέων”, in Ἀρχαιολογικὸ Ἔργο Θεσσαλίας καὶ Στερεᾶς Ἑλλάδας II, p. 869-887: Overview of archaeological research in the sanctuary of Athena Kranaia (Elateia in Phokis). The epigraphic finds (IG IX 1, 97/98, 101, 110-115; cf. I.Magnesia 34) show that this sanctuary was the place where the assembly of the Koinon of the Phokeis was summoned.
AUTHOR
ANGELOS CHANIOTIS All Souls College OXFORD OX1 4AL [email protected]
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Chronique archéologique de la religion grecque (ChronARG)
François Quantin, Emmanuel Voutiras, Kalliopi Chatzinikolaou, Alexis D’Hautcourt, Natacha Massar, Christina Mitsopoulou, Isabelle Tassignon, Massimo Osanna, Ilaria Battiloro et Nicola Cucuzza
1 Selon ce qui avait été annoncé dans la livraison de 2007, l’enquête bibliographique menée par les différents collaborateurs intègre désormais les informations les plus à jour. De plus, une alternance s’est installée pour une série de régions, qui n’apparaissent donc plus systématiquement dans chaque chronique. Enfin, signalons le retour bienvenu de la chronique sur les Cyclades, grâce à la collaboration de Christina Mitsopoulou que nous remercions très vivement d’avoir rejoint l’équipe. L’information bibliographique sur ces îles est relativement abondante cette année, afin de pallier leur absence des dernières livraisons de la chronique archéologique.
[01. Athènes, Attique, Mégaride] [02. Péloponnèse] [03. Béotie, Eubée] [04. Phocide, Locride, Étolie] 05. Acarnanie, Épire, Illyrie méridionale, îles ioniennes (François Quantin)
Épire
2 05.01 – Dodone – Le sanctuaire de Dodone offre l’opportunité, en Épire, d’étudier de manière approfondie une particularité des places publiques et des sanctuaires grecs, l’exposition de statues honorifiques. L’A. répertorie à Dodone 62 bases, anépigraphes à
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quatre exceptions près, et plus d’une centaine de fragments de statues découverts depuis les fouilles de C. Carapanos au XIXe s. Après avoir parcouru l’histoire du sanctuaire, telle qu’on peut la reconstruire à partir des travaux de S.I. Dakaris, l’A. présente une typologie fondée sur les critères élaborés par M. Jacob-Felsch (Die Entwicklung griechischer Statuenbasen und die Aufstellung der Statuen, Waldsassen, 1969) et I. Schmidt (Hellenistische Statuenbasen, Frankfurt am Main, 1995), commente la distribution spatiale des statues honorifiques dans le sanctuaire, et étudie plus particulièrement les quatre bases inscrites. Enfin, les fragments de bronze sont classés et commentés. Ces anathèmata sont essentiellement exposés dans la partie N du sanctuaire [près des prétendus temples], et le long de la stoa occidentale, découverte par C. Carapanos et en cours de dégagement par l’équipe de l’Université de Ioannina (voir ChronARG [2006] 05.12). Le secteur le plus remarquable, où sont conservées trois des quatre bases épigraphes, est situé près du bouleutèrion, à l’articulation topographique entre la terrasse des oikoi au N et les équipements architecturaux plus « politiques » à l’E. On observe que le type statuaire le plus courant n’est pas le digne magistrat en himation, mais le soldat solidement armé, dont la statuette du Musée archéologique national d’Athènes, n° 16727 (pl. 54), sans doute découverte à Dodone et datant de l’époque hellénistique, donne une idée précise. Ces statues sont le plus souvent datées par l’A. entre 219, année du sac de Dodone par le stratège étolien Dorimachos, et le passage destructeur de Paul-Émile en Épire en 167. Elles ne documenteraient donc pas une période faste et triomphante de l’histoire épirote, mais bien au contraire une époque douloureuse, qui va de la première à la troisième guerre de Macédoine (cf. P. CABANES, L’Épire, de la mort de Pyrrhos à la conquête romaine (272-167), Paris, 1989, p. 241-308). On dispose dorénavant pour Dodone de l’étude exhaustive d’une catégorie d’offrandes, fondée sur un catalogue typologique très bien fait, et qui encouragera sûrement de nouvelles études sur les offrandes dans les sanctuaires épirotes et sur la société en Grèce du N-O à l’époque hellénistique. N. KATSIKOUDIS, Δωδώνη. Οι τιμητικοί ανδριάντες, Ioannina, 2005. 3 – Après avoir retracé l’histoire du sanctuaire de Dodone, comme on peut le faire grâce aux sources littéraires et aux données archéologiques, dans les perspectives développées par S.I. Dakaris, l’A. mène une comparaison approfondie entre Dodone et Olympie, du point de vue de l’histoire religieuse comme de la topographie cultuelle. L’A. reconnaît la faiblesse des arguments qui pourraient associer l’édifice Λ à Aphrodite (p. 194), comme le proposait S.I. Dakaris; il retient l’idée d’une rupture dans l’histoire sacerdotale, avec une succession entre des prêtres et des prêtresses vers le milieu du Ve s. av. J.-C. (p. 199), en se fondant sur le témoignage de Strabon, et établit fermement en conclusion que la prise de contrôle du sanctuaire par les Molosses est fondamentale dans l’histoire de l’oracle épirote et de ses aménagements architecturaux. Au sujet du débat sur le sens de l’épiclèse Naios, l’A. privilégie p. 198 la notion de résidence (pour la démonstration linguistique, voir É. LHÔTE, Les lamelles oraculaires de Dodone, Genève, 2006, p. 407-420), en se fondant sur les travaux de C. Trümpy, qui estime que le mot pourrait procéder d’un mycénien na-wi-jo. Cette idée relance le débat sur l’existence du sanctuaire – ou d’un sanctuaire – à l’âge du Bronze, sur la présence d’une déesse Terre à Dodone avant même l’arrivée de Zeus, et sur l’antiquité du culte de Dioné à Dodone. J. MYLONOPOULOS, « Das Heiligtum des Zeus in Dodona. Zwischen Orakel und venatio », in J. MYLONOPOULOS, H. ROEDER (éds), Archäologie und Ritual. Auf der Suche nach des rituellen Handlung in den antiken Kulturen Ägyptens und Griechenlands, Wien, 2006, p. 185-214.
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4 – Cet ouvrage est une large synthèse dont l’objectif est d’établir le bilan de nos connaissances archéologiques et historiques sur le sanctuaire de Dodone. Cette première tentative « panoramique » fournit un très utile point sur les sources littéraires, systématiquement traduites, suivi d’un riche catalogue des découvertes réalisées à Dodone depuis les fouilles de C. Carapanos au XIXe s. De la confrontation entre les domaines littéraire et archéologique est attendu un certain nombre d’idées générales, à défaut d’être nouvelles. La reconstruction de l’histoire du sanctuaire commence par une présentation de la période comprise entre le début du IVe s. av. J.-C. et la conquête romaine. Les textes antiques concernant cette période sont relativement nombreux, et le début du développement architectural de Dodone est situé vers 400 av. J.-C. La dimension politique du sanctuaire s’affirme sous le règne de Pyrrhos, mais des questions d’origine privée continuent néanmoins à être posées à l’oracle. Avant le début du IVe s., les sources littéraires sont rares et les données architecturales absentes, mais l’étude peut se fonder sur le matériel votif. Enfin, la découverte d’objets de l’âge du Bronze suggère pour l’A. que Dodone a déjà une dimension religieuse au 2e millénaire av. J.-C., malgré l’absence de contexte archéologique de cette époque. L’A. est consciente que l’existence d’un sanctuaire du 2e millénaire ne peut être démontrée, a fortiori la continuité entre l’âge du Bronze et la période géométrique. Pourtant, M. Dieterle paraît tentée par la restitution d’une continuité, en défendant l’idée selon laquelle l’arbre sacré de Dodone (cf. à ce sujet LHÔTE, o.c., p. X et le texte de J. RUDHARDT, Les dieux, le féminin, le pouvoir. Enquêtes d’un historien des religions, éditées par Ph. Borgeaud et V. Pirenne-Delforge, Genève, 2006, p. 95-121), conçu comme un lieu de réunion des Épirotes, pourrait être le vestige, à la fin du IXe ou au début du VIIIe s., des temps anciens. Il devrait donc être considéré comme une sorte de relique articulant une haute antiquité réelle ou supposée de Dodone et l’époque pour laquelle le nombre et la qualité des offrandes ne laissent aucun doute sur l’existence du sanctuaire. M. DIETERLE, Dodona. Religionschichtliche und historische Untersuchungen zur Entstehung und Entwicklung des Zeus-Heiligtums, Hildesheim et al., Olms, 2007 (Spudasmata, 116).
5 – Les édifices construits dans la partie N du sanctuaire de Dodone, des oikoi qui entourent la « maison sacrée » (hiera oikia), sont traditionnellement identifiés comme des temples consacrés aux divinités mentionnées par les sources littéraires ou épigraphiques. L’A. propose de les considérer comme des anathèmata consacrés à Zeus Naios : des thesauroi, dans le sens que le mot possède à Delphes, construits par des cités ou des peuples attachés au sanctuaire vénérable de Dodone. La récente étude d’É. Lhôte sur les lamelles oraculaires (supra), la visite d’Hérodote à Dodone et la mention d’une prêtresse de Dioné dans un fragment de l’Archélaos d’Euripide conduisent à penser que Zeus devient Naios, « Résidant », à la fin du Ve s. ou au début du IVe s. et que sa parèdre Dioné, bien qu’elle soit une divinité ancienne, fait son apparition à Dodone approximativement à la même période. L’un des contextes de ces nouveautés religieuses est vraisemblablement l’annexion de Dodone par les Molosses. Les Naia, fêtes automnales qui célèbrent le dieu logé dans la hiera oikia, commémorent la résidence de Zeus à Dodone, dont on peut penser qu’elle est liée au vaste mouvement d’urbanisation que connaît cette région du monde grec à l’époque classique. Comme les Olympia de Dion en Macédoine, les Naia prennent place dans le calendrier après le retour des bergers et de leurs troupeaux dans les régions d’hivernage. F. QUANTIN, « Recherches sur l’histoire et l’archéologie du sanctuaire de Dodone. Les oikoi, Zeus Naios et les Naia », Kernos 21 (2008), p. 9-48.
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6 05.02 – Bouthrôtos en Chaonie – Butrint Foundation – Spécialiste des sanctuaires d’Asclépios, M.M. réexamine ici la documentation archéologique de l’Asclépieion de Bouthrôtos, fouillé par L.M. Ugolini. L’édifice principal est un petit naos distyle in antis, sans doute dorique, dont la construction est datée au IVe s. av. J.-C. La découverte d’un abondant matériel votif et de dédicaces à Asclépios suggère qu’il s’agit du temple du dieu médecin, dont on sait qu’il est un dieu important de la ville (cf. le tout récent CIGIME II : P. CABANES (dir.), Corpus des inscriptions grecques d’Illyrie méridionale et d’Épire I : P. CABANES et F. DRINI, Inscriptions de Bouthrôtos, in Études épigraphiques 2, ÉFA, 2007). L’encombrement architectural de ce secteur de Bouthrotos, l’abondance des offrandes, et particulier la présence d’un thesauros, d’un tronc à offrandes (ChronARG [2005] 05.08), conduisent l’A. à douter de la fonction cultuelle de ce petit bâtiment, au profit d’une fonction de protection des anathèmata. Il s’agirait donc d’un thesauros. L’A. rappelle le caractère traditionnel de la présence d’un théâtre dans les Asclépieia (à propos du théâtre, cf. O.J. GILKES (éd.) et al., Albania Antica IV. The Theater at Butrint. Luigi Maria Ugolini’s Excavations at Butrint 1928-1932, Athènes, 2003), comme de la pratique des affranchissements. Un portique, comme l’avait montré G. Pani, doit être un enkoimetèrion. Un second temple est succinctement abordé. Situé sur une terrasse au N du théâtre, cet édifice a lui aussi été découvert par L.M. UGOLINI (Butrinto. Il mito d’Enea. Gli scavi, Rome, 1937, p. 122-123, et fig. 71, p. 126). M.M. propose de manière très convaincante de loger ici le dieu principal du sanctuaire, Asclépios. M. MELFI, « The Sanctuary of Asclepius », in I. L. HANSEN et R. HODGES, Roman Butrint: An Assessment, Oxford, 2006, p. 17-32.
7 05.03 – Onchesmos (Saranda) – À propos du temple d’Aphrodite mentionné par Denys d’Halicarnasse, L’A. résume les solutions proposées par les chercheurs albanais, mais admet que le dossier archéologique n’est pas assez fourni. R. HODGES, in L. BEJKO, R. HODGES (éds), New Directions in Albanian Archaeology, Studies presented to Muzafer Korkuti, Tirana, 2006 (International Centre for Albanian Archaeology Monograph Series, 1), p. 229; ID., Saranda, ancient Onchesmos. A short history and guide, Tirana, s.d., p. 19-20.
Illyrie méridionale
8 05.04 – Généralités – Nous mentionnons ici cet ouvrage de référence car il fournit une utile documentation sur les sanctuaires de l’Illyrie méridionale, grecs ou profondément hellénisés. Signalons Bouthrôtos (p. 70-87), Phoinikè (p. 100-111), la baie de Grammata (p. 138-140), Apollonia (p. 148-162), Amantia (p. 204-209). P. CABANES (éd.), M. KORKUTI, A. BAÇE, N. CEKA, Carte archéologique de l’Albanie, Tirana, 2008.
9 05.05 – Grammata – La baie de Grammata, logée dans les monts Acrocérauniens, accessible par mer les jours de beau temps, a conservé de nombreuses inscriptions gravées sur le rocher, et datées entre le IIIe s. av. J.-C. et notre époque. Les marins de passage ou survivants d’une tempête priaient ici les Dioscures, honorés aussi à Corcyre (Thucydide, III, 75, 3). Le sanctuaire des Dioscures n’est malheureusement pas connu; peut-être s’agissait-il d’un sanctuaire hypèthre. Pour des sanctuaires du même type sur l’autre rive du canal d’Otrante, voir ChronARG [2006] 05.16. A. HAJDARI, J. REBOTON, S. SHPUZA, P. CABANES, « Les inscriptions de Grammata (Albanie) », REG 120-2 (2007), p. 353-394.
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10 05.06 – Apollonia – L’A. analyse ici l’une des plus belles stèles funéraires apolloniates (Musée d’Apollonia, n° 5030; cf. P. CABANES, « Recherches archéologiques en Albanie, 1945-1985 », RA [1986], p. 136), l’une des plus riches d’un point de vue iconographique. Au-dessus d’un naïskos à colonnes corinthiennes, une voûte en plein cintre flanquée de deux sirènes représente le monde des vivants où deux personnages féminins sont dans l’attitude de l’affliction. En bas, le défunt descend une échelle vers le monde des morts, conduit par Hermès Psychopompe, afin d’embarquer avec Charon et franchir le Styx ou l’Achéron et rejoindre un personnage trônant, Hadès ou Minos. L’A. estime que cette composition complexe n’est pas l’illustration d’un récit mythique, ni le codage iconographique d’une pensée sotériologique originale, mais la mise en scène de la représentation grecque de la mort, saisie au moment cruel de la séparation; représentation suggérant que l’état de mortel n’a rien d’enviable, ainsi que les Grecs le pensent en général depuis Homère. Des considérations stylistiques et thématiques permettent de proposer une datation dans la 2e moitié du IVe s. av. J.-C.
J.-L. LAMBOLEY, « La stèle apolloniate de la descente aux enfers », in L. BEJKO, R. HODGES (éds), supra 05.03, p. 128-135; sur les stèles funéraires d’Apollonia, dont la n° 5030, cf. dans le même ouvrage, la contribution d’O. CEKA, « Observations sur quelques stèles hellénistiques d’Apollonia d’Illyrie », p. 136-146.
11 – Cette monographie propose des bilans de nos connaissances des sanctuaires d’Apollonia : les temples de la colline 104, de la fouille actuelle, de la colline de Shtyllas au S de la ville, et de Bonjakët à l’O en direction de la plaine (le site est en cours d’exploration, voir ChronARG [2007] 05.14). L’hypothèse de l’existence d’un sanctuaire au S du monastère Sainte-Marie, là où P.C. Sestieri identifiait un gymnase, est formulée. Les pauvres et incertains vestiges d’un sanctuaire sur l’acropole sont évoqués. V. DIMO, Ph. LENHARDT, F. QUANTIN (éds), Apollonia d’Illyrie. 1. Atlas archéologique et historique, Institut archéologique d’Albanie – École française d’Athènes – Ministère des affaires étrangères – École française de Rome, Rome, 2007 (Collection de l’ÉfR, 391).
12 – Une découverte épigraphique réalisée en 2006 montre qu’Achille recevait un culte commun avec sa mère Thétis, en dehors des murs d’Apollonia, dans la plaine occidentale. Il s’agit de deux bases de statue dédiées au héros achéen et à sa mère, datées à la fin du IVe ou au début du IIIe s. L’une est offerte par un homme ayant exercé la charge de prêtre (amphipolos), l’autre par une femme ou une jeune fille, co-prêtresse. Dans une ville fondée par Apollon, un sanctuaire de Thétis et Achille ne doit pas étonner, car les traditions troyennes et achéennes se mêlent dans ces régions, en particulier à l’époque hellénistique. P. CABANES, « Thétis et Achille à Apollonia d’Illyrie », REA 109 (2007), p. 529-540.
13 05.07 – Épidamne-Dyrrhachion – Institut archéologique albanais, École française d’Athènes, Musée archéologique de Durrës, et Centre de recherche HALMA – UMR 8142 (Lille 3) – L’attribution à la déesse Artémis du sanctuaire de Dautë avait été proposée par A. Muller et son équipe (A. MULLER, F. TARTARI, I. TOÇI, M. DUFEU-MULLER, S. HUYSECOM, B. MUKA, « Les terres cuites votives du sanctuaire de la colline de Dautë à Dyrrhachion. Projet d’étude et de publication », in M. BUORA, S. SANTORO (éds), Progetto Dürres, Atti del secondo e del terzo incontro scientifico, Trieste, 2004, p. 463-485); elle est maintenant une certitude, grâce au progrès de l’analyse interne de l’immense corpus des figurines en terre cuite du sanctuaire, à une réflexion théorique dans la continuité du « laboratoire » thasien (S. HUYSECOM-HAXHI, A. MULLER, « Déesses et/ou mortelles dans la
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plastique de terre cuite. Réponses actuelles à une question ancienne », Pallas 75 [2007], p. 231-247), et à la découverte d’une inscription peinte sous le bord d’un grand vase ouvert, découvert naguère. Le sanctuaire de Dautë correspond très vraisemblablement à l’Artémision hors-les-murs mentionné par Appien (Guerre civile, II, 60), près d’une porte de la ville antique. A. MULLER, F. TARTARI, « L’Artémision de Dyrrhachion : offrandes, identification, topographie », CRAI (janvier-mars 2006), p. 65-92.
[06. Phthiotide, Thessalie] 07. Macédoine (Emmanuel Voutiras et Kalliopi Chatzinikolaou)
14 07.00 – Généralités
15 – Examinant la position de la femme dans la Macédoine antique, l’A. évoque la participation des femmes de la famille royale aux fêtes religieuses ainsi que leurs dédicaces dans les sanctuaires; elle mentionne notamment les dédicaces d’Eurydice fille de Sirras, la mère de Philippe II, aux Muses découvertes à Vergina-Aigai et une statue d’Aphrodite dédiée par Phila à Thessalonique. L’A. discute aussi les cas où des femmes citoyennes garantissent les affranchissements d’esclaves, phénomène, paraît-il, plus fréquent en Macédoine que dans d’autres régions de la Grèce. Par ailleurs il n’y a pas de raison de croire que les femmes étaient exclues des associations religieuses, comme le laisserait supposer un catalogue de membres d’une association d’adorateurs de Zeus trouvé à Dion. S. Le BOHEC-BOUET, « Réflexions sur la place de la femme dans la Macédoine antique », in A.-M. GUIMIER-SORBETS, M.B. HATZOPOULOS, Y. MORIZOT (éds), Rois, cités, nécropoles. Institutions, rites et monuments en Macédoine. Actes des colloques de Nanterre (décembre 2002) et d’Athènes (janvier 2004), Athènes, 2006 (Μελετήματα, 45), p. 189-195.
16 – L’A. propose une interprétation religieuse des coutumes funéraires macédoniennes. À côté d’une triade de divinités masculines comprenant Zeus, Héraclès et Asclépios, une divinité féminine paraît avoir occupé une place importante dans le panthéon macédonien. Cette divinité, à la fois matronale et virginale, se présente tantôt comme un seul personnage, tantôt comme deux déesses distinctes, telles Déméter et Koré; on lui associe souvent un parèdre masculin, qui aux périodes classique et hellénistique prend la forme et le nom de Dionysos. Ces divinités présidaient aux rites de passage marquant l’achèvement de l’adolescence. Mais Perséphone et Dionysos présidaient aussi au passage, autrement plus important, de vie à trépas. Selon l’A. les rites funéraires attestés en particulier dans les tombes macédoniennes témoignent « d’une croyance en l’héroïsation du défunt, qui lui assure gloire et immortalité ». D’autre part, la décoration de ces monuments montre qu’au moins certains Macédoniens aspiraient à une nouvelle existence dans l’au-delà, promise aux initiés des mystères de Dionysos et Perséphone. Les lamelles d’or déposées parfois dans les tombes, en Macédoine comme dans d’autres régions du monde grec, témoignent de cette croyance. M.B. HATZOPOULOS, « De vie à trépas : rites de passage, lamelles dionysiaques et tombes macédoniennes », ibid., p. 131-141, pl. 57.
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17 – Le culte de Zeus en Macédoine était étroitement lié au Mont Olympe, siège des dieux majeurs des Grecs. Au pied de cette montagne, près de la ville de Dion, se trouvait un sanctuaire de Zeus Olympios, qui à partir du règne d’Archélaos à la fin du Ve s. av. J.-C. devint le sanctuaire « national » des Macédoniens. Les fouilles archéologiques ont confirmé l’importance de ce sanctuaire. Un fragment de papyrus récemment publié nous informe par ailleurs que sa fondation était attribuée au héros mythique Deucalion. Un lieu de culte en plein air mis au jour sur l’un des plus hauts sommets de l’Olympe était probablement associé au sanctuaire de Zeus à Dion. Zeus était aussi adoré ailleurs en Macédoine. Enfin, il y a lieu de noter que le culte de Zeus Hypsistos, très répandu à l’époque impériale, n’est pas attesté avant la conquête romaine.
Ε. VOUTIRAS, « Le culte de Zeus en Macédoine avant la conquête romaine », ibid., p. 333-345.
18 (Dion, Aigéai) – Cherchant à établir le contexte politique d’œuvres d’art importantes érigées par des membres de la famille royale de Macédoine dans les grands sanctuaires du pays, L’A. mentionne l’instauration de fêtes en l’honneur de Zeus à Dion par Archélaos (Diodore de Sicile, XVII, 16, 3-4) et les dédicaces d’Eurydice, épouse d’Amyntas III, aux Muses dans un site non précisé (Plutarque, Mor., 14b-c) ainsi qu’à Eukleia sur l’agora d’Aigai (Vergina). Ces dernières sont connues par la découverte de bases inscrites et d’une statue en marbre. Chr. SAATSOGLOU-PALIADELI, « Arts and politics in the Macedonian court before Alexander », in Ancient Macedonia VII, Macedonia from the Iron Age to the death of Philip II. Papers read at the Seventh Symposium held in Thessaloniki, October 14-18, 2002, Institute for Balkan Studies, Thessaloniki, 2007, p. 350-354.
19 – L’A. examine les temples périptères connus jusqu’à présent dans le N de la Grèce actuelle. (1) À Thessalonique, place Antigonidon, se trouve un temple ionique monumental (ChronARG [2004] 7.10), dont les membres architecturaux en marbre de Thasos datant de l’époque archaïque tardive ont sans doute été transportés dans la ville à partir d’un autre site à l’époque impériale. (2) À Néapolis (l’actuelle Kavala), dans le sanctuaire de la déesse locale Parthénos, était érigé un temple ionique du 1er quart du Ve s. av. J.-C. comparable à celui de Thessalonique. (3) À Thasos le temple d’Héraclès,
F0 construit en marbre local, peut être restitué comme un périptère avec 6 B4 18 colonnes, bien que cet avis ne soit pas partagé par tous les spécialistes; il a été daté au 1er tiers du Ve s. av. J.-C. L’A. pense que ces trois temples, à peu près contemporains, peuvent être attribués au même atelier. L’apparition de grands temples ioniques est un phénomène témoignant sans doute de l’influence des cités grecques côtières d’Asie Mineure dans la région. Il faut noter qu’au début du Ve s., la Macédoine et la Thrace, tout comme l’Asie Mineure, faisaient partie de l’empire perse. D’autres temples périptères sont également attestés dans la région : près d’Aphytis sur la péninsule de Pallène (temple dorique de Zeus Ammon mis au jour dans l’agglomération moderne de Kallithéa en Chalcidique), à Akanthos (de style inconnu, peut-être consacré à Athéna, avec une phase initiale remontant sans doute au début de l’époque classique) et probablement dans une cité antique près d’Aïdonochori (préfecture de Serrès) dans la vallée du Strymon, d’où provient une métope de la fin du Ve s. av. J.-C., conservée au musée de Kavalla. Les données concernant un temple près de Skydra sont pour le moment insuffisantes. Les temples périptères énumérés dans cette étude se trouvent dans des colonies de cités grecques. Le temple ionique de Thessalonique constitue toutefois un cas spécial, car, d’après une hypothèse émise par E. Voutiras, il s’agirait du temple d’Aphrodite érigé à
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Aineia et transporté à son emplacement actuel au début de l’époque impériale (ChronARG [2001] 07.13). B. SCHMIDT-DOUNA, « Περίπτεροι ναοί στο βορειοελλαδικό χώρο », ibid., p. 455-472. 20 07.01 –Mavropigi (préfecture de Kozani) – XXXe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Au lieu-dit ‘Kastro’ près de Mavropigi se trouve un sanctuaire d’Apollon d’époque hellénistique, dont proviennent des reliefs votifs inscrits. Le sanctuaire était lié à une agglomération antique, rasée par les activités minières modernes. G. KARAMITROU-MENTESSIDI, « Μαυροπηγή 2005: Λιγνιτωρυχία και Αρχαιότητες », AErgoMak 19 (2005) [2007], p. 516-517.
21 07.02 – Komanos (préfecture de Kozani) – XXXe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Un relief votif de la fin du IIe s. av. J.-C. avec représentation d’Apollon Citharède a été trouvé au lieu-dit Komanos. Des reliefs semblables provenant de sites voisins attestent le culte du dieu dans les régions anciennes d’Élimeia et d’Éordée. G. KARAMITROU-MENTESSIDI, supra 07.01], p. 518-519.
22 07.03 – Archontiko (préfecture de Pella) – XVIIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Des figurines en terre cuite d’Hadès et de Perséphone ainsi qu’un vase plastique en faïence représentant le dieu fleuve Achélôos ont été découvertes dans des tombes de femmes d’époque archaïque de la nécropole d’Archontiko près de Pella. P. CHRYSOSTOMOU, A. CHRYSOSTOMOU, « Ανασκαφή στη δυτική νεκρόπολη του Αρχοντικού Πέλλας κατά το 2005 », AErgoMak 19 (2005) [2007], 442, fig. 11, 13. 23 07.04 – Vergina (Aigai) – Université Aristote de Thessalonique – La fouille du dromos de la grande tombe macédonienne à façade ionique proche de l’hôtel de ville de Vergina, qui n’avait pas été dégagée lors de la fouille de 1985, a révélé les traces d’un rite funéraire. Parmi les trouvailles il faut noter la présence de plats à omphalos de la fin du IVe s. av. J.-C. permettant de dater l’acte cultuel associé à l’ensevelissement du défunt et de préciser l’usage de ces objets. S. DROUGOU, « Βεργίνα 2005. Νέο φως στην παλιά ανασκαφική έρευνα », AErgoMak 19 (2005) [2007], 477-478 n. 9, fig. 5.
24 07.05 – Pella (agora) – Université Aristote de Thessalonique – Un canthare portant l’inscription ΔΙΟΣ ΦΙΛΙΟΥ, a été trouvé dans le secteur S de l’agora de Pella. I. AKAMATIS, « Πανεπιστημιακή ανασκαφή Αγοράς Πέλλας 2005 », AErgoMak 19 (2005) [2007], 422, fig. 13.
25 07.06 – Pella – XVIIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques. – Présentation de figurines en terre cuite d’époque hellénistique représentant Aphrodite à moitié nue, provenant du sanctuaire de la Mère des Dieux et d’Aphrodite à Pella et de la nécropole E de la ville. M. LILIMBAKI-AKAMATI, « Women in Macedonia », in D. PANDERMALIS (éd.), Alexander the Great, Treasures from an Epic Era of Hellenism. December 10, 2004 – April 16, 2005, Alexander S. Onassis Public benefit Foundation (USA), New York, 2004 (Catalogue d’exposition), p. 102-104, nos 13-16.
26 07.07 – Pydna – Au terme d’une étude sur la monnaie funéraire en Macédoine, l’A. attire l’attention sur deux statères de Philippe II portant les noms de ΞΕΝΑΡΙΣΤΗ et d’ΑΝΔΡΩΝ, provenant de deux riches tombes à fosse de la nécropole S de Pydna. La gravure des noms des défunts sur les monnaies rappelle une pratique similaire
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constatée en Macédoine, où le nom du défunt (souvent accompagnés du mot mystes) est incisé ou peint sur des feuilles d’or parfois posées sur la bouche du mort. Ces feuilles d’or fonctionnent de la même manière que les lamelles dionysiaques et orphiques. Les deux monnaies en or provenant des tombes de Pydna pouvaient avoir, selon l’A., la même fonction que les messages abrégés des feuilles en or : les initiés signalaient de cette manière leur identité à Perséphone, la reine du monde des morts. K. CHRYSSANTHAKI-NAGLE, « La monnaie funéraire dans les nécropoles de Macédoine », GUIMIER-SORBETS et al. (supra 07.00), p. 100-101.
27 07.08 – Dion – Université Aristote de Thessalonique – Des travaux d’aménagement ont mis au jour, outre des membres architecturaux, des sculptures remployées dans les remparts de la ville, parmi lesquelles il faut noter : la partie inférieure d’une statue de Zeus dédiée par le prêtre Postumius, la partie inférieure d’un aigle votif provenant du sanctuaire de Zeus Hypsistos, un relief à l’effigie de Zeus, un buste d’Héphaistos et une tête en marbre d’époque hellénistique représentant probablement Dionysos. Par ailleurs des plaques inscrites et des reliefs remployés comme couvertures de tombes paléochrétiennes mentionnent Jupiter Capitolin, la Victoire de l’Empereur, et Mars Ultor. Un relief représentant le Héros cavalier, retrouvé hors contexte, porte le nom de [K]andylidas. D. PANDERMALIS, « Δίον 2005. Ανασκαφές, έργα ανάδειξης και disjecta membra », AErgoMak 19 (2005) [2007], p. 373, 375-376, fig. 6-10, 12.
28 07.09 – Beroia – Dans une discussion du monnayage de Béroia, siège du Koinon des Macédoniens à l’époque impériale, l’A. donne un aperçu des cultes de la ville à partir de la fin du IIe s. av. J.-C. Aux cultes traditionnels des dieux de l’Olympe se sont ajoutés graduellement ceux de divinités d’origine orientale et égyptienne. À l’époque impériale arrivent des cultes liés à de nouvelles communautés, comme celui de Jahvé apporté par les juifs. D’autre part la présence d’associations religieuses s’intensifie et le culte impérial devient dominant. Au IIIe s. ap. J.-C., sous les empereurs Caracalla, Alexandre Sévère et Gordien III, le culte d’Alexandre le Grand renaît et s’associe au culte impérial. Ce fait est reflété par les émissions monétaires de la cité où sont représentés Alexandre, les temples du culte impérial et celui d’Hygie au serpent. Cette dernière image renvoie, selon l’A., à Olympias, la mère d’Alexandre, et donc indirectement au culte de celui-ci. I. TOURATSOGLOU, « La métropole de Béroia. Siège du Koinon des Macédoniens. Production monétaire – Iconographie monétaire », Folia Archaeologica Balkanica I. In honorem Verae Bitrakova Grozdanova, Skopje, 2006, p. 294-301.
29 07.10 – Kalindoia (préfecture de Thessalonique) – XVIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – La poursuite de la fouille dans le ‘Sébasteion’ de Kalindoia (cf. ChronARG [2007] 07.16; [2008] 07.24) a complètement dégagé les salles D et E, destinées au culte impérial de même que les salles A, B et C, mises au jour lors des campagnes précédentes. Ces salles disposaient d’un banc construit servant de socle pour statues, fait qui conduit à revoir l’interprétation initiale de la salle D comme espace auxiliaire. Les trouvailles indiquent qu’il s’agissait de salles de banquets, sans doute en l’honneur de Zeus et de l’empereur, comme l’indique un décret honorifique de Kalindoia du Ier s. ap. J.-C.
K. SISMANIDIS, « Σεβαστείο Καλινδοίων. Eστιάσεις και ευωχίες », AErgoMak 19 (2005) [2007], p. 145-155.
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30 07.11 – Axioupolis (préfecture de Kilkis) – XVIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – L’A. mentionne des bracelets d’un type spécial, présentes dans des tombes de femmes de la nécropole d’Axioupolis datant du VIIe et du VIe s. av. J.-C. Ces parures, qui ont des parallèles dans toute la région de la Péonie, pourraient avoir une signification religieuse : elles semblent signaler la fonction sacerdotale des femmes dans la tombe desquelles elles étaient déposées. Th. SAVOPOULOU, « Ἀπ’ Ἀξιοῡ εὐρὺ ρέοντος, Ἀξιοῡ, οὗ κάλλιστον ὕδωρ ἐπικίδναται αἶαν », Ancient Macedonia VII, supra 07.00, p. 614-617. 31 07.12 – Thessalonique – XVIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Des figurines en terre cuite représentant Héraclès avec une figure juvénile, une clé de type ancien (‘homérique’) et des boutons dorés décorés de protomés d’Athéna faisaient partie du mobilier de tombes fouillées près de la Toumba KIS dans la banlieue de Foinikas, à l’E de Thessalonique. M. TSIMPIDOU-AVLONITI, A. KAIAFA, I. LYKIDOU, » Θεσσαλονίκη 2005. Κλείνοντας(;) παλιούς λογαριασμούς », AErgoMak 19 (2005) [2007], p. 202-203, 205, fig. 5, 8, 13. 32 – Présentation de deux objets décorés d’images de divinités : (1) Un médaillon en bronze à l’effigie d’Athéna de la 1re moitié du IIe s. av. J.-C., découvert à Thessalonique, près du Palais du Gouvernement. Cette pièce, qui appartenait à la décoration d’un quadrige, se rapporte à un édifice somptueux, qui pourrait être une demeure royale. (2) Vase en forme de phallus de la 2e moitié IIe s. av. J.-C. décoré d’une figure de Dionysos barbu, provenant de l’agora romaine de Thessalonique. P. ADAM-VELENI, « Arms and warfare techniques of the Macedonians », in PANDERMALIS, supra 07.06, p. 62, n° 17, p. 85, n° 21.
33 07.13 – Thessalonique – Université Aristote de Thessalonique – L’A. étudie l’activité édilitaire dans les sanctuaires de Thessalonique à l’époque impériale à partir des témoignages épigraphiques. D’après une inscription aujourd’hui perdue, un temple dédié à Jules César fut érigé sous Auguste. Mais les documents étudiés proviennent pour la plupart du sanctuaire des divinités égyptiennes et concernent des donations de particuliers. Ainsi une inscription bilingue mentionne la réparation du temple d’Isis aux frais d’Auia Posilla, qui donna également de l’argent pour ériger un petit temple d’Héraclès dans un complexe thermal à l’E de Thessalonique. Dans le secteur du sanctuaire des divinités égyptiennes furent construits au Ier et au IIe s. ap. J.-C. des édifices cultuels pour Isis (Locheia et Memphitis). À la fin du IIe ou au début du IIIe s. ap. J.-C. la cité érigea également un temple du « dieu Héros ». P.M. NIGDELIS, « Δημόσια οικοδομική δραστηριότητα στη Θεσσαλονίκη των αυτοκρατορικών χρόνων. Οι επιγραφικές μαρτυρίες », in Η Θεσσαλονίκη και ο ευρύτερος χώρος. Παρελθόν – Παρόν – Μέλλον. Πανελλήνιο Συνέδριο, 28 Φεβρουαρίου – 2 Μαρτίου 2003, Θεσσαλονίκη, 2005 (Εταιρεία Μακεδονικών Σπουδών, Μακεδονική Βιβλιοθήκη, αρ. 97), p. 23-41.
34 – Signalons ici cette riche étude épigraphique mentionnant et étudiant plusieurs cultes de la ville, notamment ceux du Kabeiros, du dieu Fulvus (fils d’Antonin le Pieux mort prématurément), des divinités égyptiennes et d’Alexandre le Grand. Une autre source de renseignements sur les cultes de Thessalonique sont les nombreuses attestations d’associations religieuses, parmi lesquelles on peut citer celles de Dionysos Horophoros,
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des Asklépiastai, des Asianoi, d’Artémis Gourasia, d’Artémis Akraia, d’Héraclès, de Poséidon, des banqueteurs de Zeus Hypsistos, de Némésis et du Héros Aineias (Énée). P.M. NIGDELIS, Επιγραφικά Θεσσαλονίκεια. Συμβολή στην πολιτική και κοινωνική ιστορία της αρχαίας Θεσσαλονίκης, ίδρυμα Μελετών Χερσονήσου του Αίμου, University Studio Press, Θεσσαλονίκη, 2006, p. 35-45, 52-64, 75-85, 101-183, 204-216, 257-259, 274-275, 494-498.
35 07.14 – Dikaia – Université Aristote de Thessalonique – XVIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Première présentation d’une nouvelle inscription du IVe s. av. J.-C. provenant de la colonie érétrienne de Dikaia sur la côte E du golfe Thermaïque. Du point de vue archéologique le fait le plus intéressant est la localisation de cette cité à Néa Kallikrateia (préfecture de Chalkidiki), proposée par les A. dans un appendice. L’inscription contient un traité de réconciliation entre deux partis qui s’étaient affrontés dans la cité lors d’une stasis. La mention du roi de Macédoine Perdikkas III en tant que garant du traité permet de dater le document. Ce document apporte des renseignements intéressants concernant les cultes. La divinité principale de Dikaia est Apollon Daphnéphoros, dont le culte est venu d’Érétrie. Il y a également mention d’un sanctuaire d’Athéna. L’inscription invite aussi à rouvrir le dossier du calendrier érétrien, car elle contient le nom d’un nouveau mois, Daphnéphorion. E. VOUTIRAS, K. SISMANIDIS, « ΔΙΚΑΙΟΠΟΛΙΤΩΝ ΣΥΝΑΛΛΑΓΑΙ. Μία νέα επιγραφή από τη Δίκαια, αποικία της Ερέτριας », Ancient Macedonia VII, supra 07.00, p. 253-274. 36 07.15 – Kallithea (préfecture de Chalcidique) – Département de Géologie, Université Aristote de Thessalonique – Éphorie de Paléoanthropologie et Spéléologie de la Grèce du Nord – Une investigation géophysique effectuée dans la grotte consacrée à Dionysos (ChronARG [2008] 07.22) a permis de constater que (a) la galerie artificielle ne se poursuit pas vers le N et (b) il existe dans cette galerie un dispositif de collecte des eaux jaillissant du rocher, pareil à ceux que l’on rencontre dans d’autres grottes. G. TSOKAS, P. TSOURLOS, M. VAXEVANOPOULOS, F. GEORGIADIS, « Γεωφυσική έρευνα για τον εντοπισμό της συνέχειας της στοάς του σπηλαίου στην Καλλιθέα Χαλκιδικής », AErgoMak 19 (2005) [2007], 279-292.
37 07.16 – Kallithea (préfecture de Chalcidique) – XVIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – L’extension de la fouille du sanctuaire de Zeus Ammon dans les terrains au N de l’aire expropriée a révélé la majeure partie des bains ainsi que des espaces auxiliaires liés au sanctuaire, s’étendant vers le N-O. Les monnaies trouvées dans ce lieu indiquent une période de fonctionnement entre le milieu du IIe et la fin du IVe s. ap. J.-C., sans que le début en soit pour autant fixé, étant donné que la recherche n’est pas terminée. Les dimensions et la situation des bains suggèrent qu’il s’agissait d’un établissement public lié au sanctuaire. Les fouilleurs pensent que ces bains pourraient avoir une fonction curative. E.-B. TSIGARIDA, S. VASILIOU, « Ανασκαφικές και άλλες εργασίες στο ιερό του Άμμωνα Δία στην Καλλιθέα Χαλκιδικής », AErgoMak 19 (2005) [2007], p. 339-345. 38 07.17 – Poseidi – Université Aristote de Thessalonique – Dans cette étude sur les débuts de la colonisation eubéenne en Chalcidique, l’A. s’occupe de Mendé, colonie d’Érétrie, et de son sanctuaire extra-urbain de Poseideion (Poseidi). Dans cet important sanctuaire de Poséidon Pontios; le culte commence à la fin de l’époque mycénienne et se poursuit jusqu’à l’époque hellénistique tardive, avec une lacune possible au IXe s. Au XIIe s. av. J.- C. appartiennent les restes d’un grand autel de cendre, tandis que le premier édifice
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cultuel, le plus ancien en son genre dans la Grèce du N, date du Xe s. av. J.-C. La pratique cultuelle grecque du sacrifice est arrivée avec les Eubéens au XIIe s.
M. TIVERIOS, « Πρώιμος ευβοϊκός αποικισμός της Χαλκιδικής », Ancient Macedonia VII, supra 07.00, p. 10-13, 16.
39 07.18 – Bergé – XXVIIIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Près du village de Néos Skopos (préfecture de Serrès), dans une agglomération antique (Bergé) a été identifié un Thesmophorion, dont la durée s’étend de l’époque archaïque à l’époque romaine. L’identification de l’édifice se fonde sur la découverte de fosses interprétées par les fouilleurs comme des megara : la plus grande, qui semble avoir été l’espace le plus important du sanctuaire, contenait des cendres et des os d’animaux, y compris de porcelets, une figurine de sanglier et de la céramique du VIe et du Ve s. av. J.-C. À proximité des fosses, il y a des constructions utilisées surtout aux époques hellénistique et romaine. Mention d’un diadème en or avec une protomé d’Artémis en relief provenant d’une tombe hellénistique de Bergé. K. PERISTERI, Th. SALONIKIOS, V. CHALKIOPOULOU, « Ανασκαφική έρευνα 2005 στον αρχαίο οικισμό και στη νεκρόπολη της αρχαίας Βέργης καθώς και στον αρχαίο οικισμό της Γαζώρου (Ν. Σερρών) », AErgoMak 19 (2005) [2007], p. 119-120, 122, fig. 1-7, 17. 40 07.19 – Sidirokastro (préfecture de Serres), site de « Mavros Vrachos » (préfecture de Serrès) – XXVIIIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Les fouilles récentes au N de Serrès ont mis au jour un sanctuaire consacré à Apollon, aux Nymphes et au dieu Pan, d’époque impériale romaine. L’ancien pèlerin entrait dans une petite gorge, entourée des grandes roches où domine une niche cultuelle creusée dans le rocher. Plus bas ruisselait l’eau de sources qui n’existent plus. Au fond de cette gorge, un abri creusé dans le rocher a été habité par les bergers à l’époque byzantine, après la grande destruction du sanctuaire au IVe s., par les chrétiens.
K. PERISTERI, V. CHALKIOPOULOU, « Πρώτη ανασκαφική έρευνα στο Σιδηρόκαστρο στη θέση ‘Μαύρος Βράχος’ κατά το 2005 », AErgoMak 19 (2005) [2007], p. 129-134. 41 07.20 – Tragilos – XXVIIIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Mention d’un petit sanctuaire de divinité féminine (Aphrodite ou Léda) sur l’acropole de Tragilos. Le sanctuaire a connu deux phases : une allant de la fin du VIe au début du Ve s. av. J.-C. et une pendant le IVe s. Mention des monnaies de bronze de Tragilos à l’effigie d’Hermès.
M. NIKOLAIDOU-PATERA, « Αρχαία Τράγιλος » et K. CHRYSSANHAKI-NAGLE, « Les monnaies des fouilles de Tragilos », in A. IAKOVIDOU (éd.), Thrace in the Greco-Roman World. Proceedings of the 10th International Congress of Thracology, Komotini-Alexandroupolis 18-23 October 2005, Athens, 2007, p. 436, 440 et 95-97, 100-101.
42 07.21 – Phillippes – Les A. retracent l’évolution du théâtre romain de Philippes à l’époque romaine, jusqu’à son adaptation à des spectacles romains. Une conséquence de cette dernière fut l’introduction des cultes de Némésis, de Mars et de Victoria, divinités des gladiateurs. Au IIIe s., ces divinités sont représentées sur les antes de l’entrée occidentale de l’orchestre, accompagnées d’inscriptions votives. Des reliefs et des inscriptions découverts dans la ville témoignent de la popularité du culte de Némésis, peut-être lié à celui de Dionysos, dont le sanctuaire était situé près du théâtre. G. KARADEDOS, Ch. KOUKOULI-CHRYSSANTHAKI, « From the Greek theatre to the Roman arena: The theatres at Philippoi, Thasos and Maroneia », in IAKOVIDOU, supra 07.20, p. 279, fig. 15.
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08. Thrace (partim) (Emmanuel Voutiras et Kalliopi Chatzinikolaou)
43 08.00 – Généralités
44 – L’A. discute les opinions émises dans le passé sur les rapports religieux entre Grecs et Thraces. Un tel exemple est offert par le sanctuaire de la déesse Parthénos à Néapolis (l’actuelle Kavala) qui présente des similitudes avec un autre sanctuaire de Parthénos dans la voisine Oisymé, où se trouve également une grotte consacrée aux Nymphes et probablement aussi à Dionysos. Ce sanctuaire, considéré comme thrace, est sans doute préhellénique. Le culte de Parthénos semble être une forme hellénisée du culte de Bendis, assimilée à Artémis ou à Athéna. Des cultes liés à la religion des Thraces sont également présents dans d’autres cités grecques de la région : Abdère, Amphipolis, Ainos, Antisara, Dikaia voisine d’Abdère, Maronée, Périnthos et Philippes. Cette influence indique l’incorporation d’éléments thraces dans la population des cité côtières grecques. W.L. ADAMS, « ’Symmiktous katoikisas’ and the city foundations of the Thracian frontier », in IAKOVIDOU, supra 07.20, p. 4 et 7.
45 – Les monuments relatifs au culte des Nymphes provenant de Thrace et de la province romaine de Mésie Inférieure sont pour la plupart des reliefs votifs datant de l’époque impériale tardive. L’étude iconographique permet à la fois de relever des influences extérieures et de mieux saisir la nature de ce culte, souvent à caractère local. L’A. distingue les monuments en trois catégories : ceux dont l’iconographie trahit une influence grecque ou romaine et ceux qui sont « authentiquement thraces ». La triade des Nymphes est représentée dans un mouvement de danse, joignant les mains ou tenant des attributs. Dans certains cas, plutôt rares, où l’influence grecque est manifeste, le culte des Nymphes est combiné avec celui d’Apollon ou d’Héraclès. Parfois aussi les Nymphes apparaissent en compagnie de Silvanus ou de Diane. Les reliefs à influence romaine proviennent pour la plupart de la région de Philippopolis. Sur les représentations des Nymphes accompagnées de Zeus, d’Héra ou du Héros cavalier, il est possible de détecter plus d’éléments thraces. L’A. considère que le culte des Nymphes fut de longue durée en Thrace et s’est propagé à partir du S-O. K. KARADIMITROVA, « Die Ikonographie der Nymphenreliefs in Thrakien: zwischen Eigenständigkeit und fremden Einfluss », ibid., p. 299-303.
46 08.01 – Abdère – XIXe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – La survie du culte héroïque du fondateur de la première colonie clazoméniennne d’Abdère après sa refondation par Téos, attestée par les sources écrites et confirmée par les trouvailles archéologiques, pourrait, selon l’A., être le résultat d’un accord entre anciens et nouveaux colons de vivre ensemble en paix. L’implantation des colons téiens à Abdère et la réparation des fortifications coïncident avec la fondation d’un sanctuaire de plein air de divinités féminines, Déméter et Koré ou les Nymphes, dont la période de fonctionnement va de la fin du VIe à la fin du IVe siècle av. J.-C. Deux autels, de petites hydries et des figurines de femmes font partie des trouvailles. Ch. KOUKOULI-CHRYSSANTHAKI, « The Archaic city of Abdera », in A. MOUSTAKA, E. SKARLATIDOU, M.-C. TZANNES, Y. ERSOY (éds), Klazomenai, Teos and Abdera: Metropoleis and
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Colony. Proceedings of the International Symposium held at the Archaeological Museum of Abdera, Abdera, 20-21 October 2001, Thessalonique, 2004, p. 242-244, fig. 21-29.
47 – L’A. examine l’histoire de la cité d’Abdère à travers son monnayage et tente d’expliquer le choix des divinités sur les types monétaires. À partir de 346 av. J.-C. et jusqu’au milieu du IIIe s., la cité, alliée à Philippe II, frappe des monnaies portant au droit la tête d’Apollon. Après la mort de Lysimaque commence une période difficile pour Abdère, qui frappe des monnaies avec la tête de Poséidon au droit et le griffon, symbole de la cité, au revers. La tête de Poséidon réapparaît sur les émissions de la période avant la conquête romaine, peut-être comme ultime effort pour affirmer l’indépendance de la cité. Κ. CHRYSSANTHAKI, « Reconsidering the history of Abdera », ibid., p. 313-317.
48 – Énumération des sanctuaires et des cultes d’Abdère. Les sanctuaires d’Aphrodite, d’Apollon Dérénos, d’Athéna Epipyrgitis et de Dionysos, ainsi que les cultes de Zeus Eleutherios, de Zeus Lykeios, d’Artémis, de Tychè, d’Hermès, de Cybèle, d’Hécate, d’Héraclès et des héros locaux Abdéros et Timésias sont attestés par des textes ou des inscriptions. Un sanctuaire de plein air, probablement de Déméter et Koré, a été fouillé hors des murs de la ville. M. GIRTZI, « Η καθημερινή ζωή στα αρχαία άβδηρα », in IAKOVIDOU, supra 07.20, p. 191-192.
49 – L’A. étudie les « jouets » trouvés dans les tombes d’enfants d’Abdère et se demande si ces objets ne pourraient être interprétés comme des dédicaces que l’enfant devait faire à une divinité après avoir atteint un certain âge ou au cours d’un rite de passage. Cette interprétation est suggérée par la présence des mêmes objets dans les sanctuaires de divinités courotrophes. I.-D. PAPAIKONOMOU, « L’interprétation des « jouets » trouvés dans les tombes d’enfants d’Abdère », in GUIMIER-SORBETS et al., supra 07.00, p. 245-247, 249, pl. 33, 36.
50 08.02 – Zoné – De nombreuses monnaies de Zoné à la tête d’Apollon et du temple du dieu ont été découvertes à « Mesembria ». Ces trouvailles permettent d’identifier le site avec Zoné, la plus importante colonie de Samothrace. La localisation de Zoné à Macri, proposée jadis, doit être abandonnée. – Un édifice d’époque hellénistique et romaine fouillé jadis dans la vallée de Pétrota pourrait appartenir à un sanctuaire. P. TSATSOPOULOU, « The colonies of Samothrace: Topography and Archaeological research », in IAKOVIDOU, supra 07.20, p. 649 et 651.
51 08.03 – Pistiros – Renvoi à un décret d’époque classique (G. Mihailov, IGBulg. III/1, 1114) mentionnant un temple d’Apollon dans cette cité. – Mention d’un tesson d’amphore panathénaïque portant une inscription votive à Zeus. J. BOUZEK, L. DOMARADZKA, « Pistiros and North Aegean Greek cities », Ancient Macedonia VII, supra 07.00, p. 747 et 750.
52 08.04 – Ainos – Rapport préliminaire concernant les monnaies d’Ainos trouvées sur le site même. Les premières émissions datent du 2e quart du Ve s. av. J.-C. et portent au droit la tête d’Hermès et au revers un caducée ou une chèvre. Plus tard, dans la 2e moitié du 4e s., Hermès est représenté avec le pétase et le revers porte l’image d’un pilier hermaïque ou d’Hermès Perperaios assis. Sur les émissions de bronze d’Ainos sont aussi représentés, sur le droit ou sur le revers, Apollon, Zeus, Dionysos, Asclépios et Poséidon.
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O. TEKIN, « Excavation coins from Ainos. A preliminary report », in IAKOVIDOU, supra 07.20, p. 596-599, 601.
09. Îles de l’Égée (Kalliopi Chatzinikolaou, Alexis D’Hautcourt, Natacha Massar, Christina Mitsopoulou, Emmanuel Voutiras)
53 09.01 – Thasos, Limenas – École française d’Athènes – Mention d’un petit sanctuaire d’Artémis Soteira mis au jour par l’École française d’Athènes en 1938 hors des remparts de Thasos, à petite distance de la porte maritime. Le sanctuaire a été redécouvert au cours d’une fouille de sauvetage en 1998, qui a révélé une partie de la krépis (fouillée jadis par R. Martin) et l’angle de la fondation en pierre d’un édifice rectangulaire, entouré d’un système de conduites d’eau d’époque romaine tardive. T. KOZELJ, M. SGOUROU †, M. WURCH-KOZELJ, « Έρευνες στο βορειοδυτικό τείχος της αρχαίας Θάσου. Νέα αρχαιολογικά δεδομένα », AErgoMak 19 (2005) [2007], p. 18, plan 2.9, 3G. 54 09.02 – Thasos – Les représentations de la scenae frons du théâtre romain de Thasos attestent la coexistence de spectacles grecs et romains : Dionysos, le Héros cavalier et Arès sont représentés sur trois métopes de la colonnade dorique. Il y a aussi des représentations de Némésis et des inscriptions votives de gladiateurs à la déesse datant du IIe s. ap. J.-C., quand le théâtre fut transformé en arène de combats.
G. KARADEDOS, Ch. KOUKOULI-CHRYSSANTHAKI, « From the Greek theatre to the Roman arena: The theatres at Philippoi, Thasos and Maroneia », in IAKOVIDOU, supra 07.20, p. 281, fig. 18.
55 09.03 – Samothrace – Trois nouveaux tessons provenant du sanctuaire agraire de Mandal’ Panagia à Samothrace (VIe – IVe siècle av. J.-C.) portent des inscriptions dans une langue non grecque et peuvent être mis en relation avec des trouvailles similaires du sanctuaire des Grands Dieux de Samothrace et de celui d’Apollon à Zoné. Il faut noter la proposition de reconnaître le nom de la déesse Bendis, au vu du fait que le sanctuaire de Mandal’ Panagia était consacré à Artémis. La localité de Mandal’ Panagia, dont proviennent les nouvelles trouvailles de Samothrace, se trouve à la limite d’une agglomération thrace et témoigne du début de l’hellénisation des habitants thraces de Samothrace. Le sanctuaire situé à Kerasoudha illustre au contraire l’accomplissement du processus de fusion des croyances religieuses de la population indigène avec celles des colons ioniens. D. MATSAS, « Archaeological evidence for Greek-Thracian relations on Samothrace », in IAKOVIDOU, supra 07.20, p. 389-391.
56 09.04 – Astypalaia – Kylindra, « propriété Phoivos EPE »–XXIIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques–Découverte de 126 tombes en enchytrismos, datant des périodes archaïque à hellénistique; voir ChronARG [2007] 09.01. Plusieurs sépultures sont accompagnées de coquillages écrasés. La nécropole semble se poursuivre vers le N- E. E. PHARMAKIDOU, ADelt 54 (1999) [2006], Chron. B 2, p. 956; J. WHITLEY, AR 2006-2007 (2007) p. 90.
57 09.05 – Astypalaia–Katsalos, terrain Petrinolis–XXIIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques–Trois tranchées ont révélé des inhumations et incinérations perturbées.
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Parmi les découvertes, on notera une grande quantité d’amandes carbonisées, un unguentarium et de petits fragments d’os carbonisés. Trois autres tombes taillées dans le rocher ont été découvertes. À l’angle S-O, en dehors des sépultures, dans une fosse creusée dans la roche, ont été retrouvés deux petits bols, trois petits anneaux en bronze, ainsi que des fragments d’os et de coquille d’œuf. E. PHARMAKIDOU, ADelt 54 (1999) [2006], Chron. B 2, p. 956-957; J. WHITLEY, AR 2006-2007 (2007) p. 90.
58 09.06 – Kos – Asklepieion – Temple A – L’A. présente une analyse architecturale théorique de cet édifice de style dorique dont la construction débuta vers 170 av. J.-C. À la suite d’une série complexe de calculs, il propose que le plan du temple a été dessiné, à l’aide de compas, selon un principe de circonférences basées sur le triangle de Pythagore. Le temple serait un bon exemple d’une architecture hellénistique savante et didactique, dont les principes nous sont connus grâce aux écrits de Vitruve. L’analyse est élégante et séduisante, parce qu’elle ne force pas les données des publications antérieures et que S. a bien observé les restes archéologiques, mais une étude architecturale qui ne prend en compte ni les commanditaires ni les fonctions du temple ne peut être qu’insatisfaisante. J.R. SENSENEY, « Idea and Visuality in Hellenistic Architecture. A Geometric Analysis of Temple A of the Asklepieion at Kos », Hesperia 76 (2007), p. 555-595.
59 09.07 – Kos – Herakles, Psalidi – XXIIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques– Poursuite des fouilles dans la zone entre le temple et le mur monumental archaïques.L’endroit fut utilisé à des fins cultuelles durant la période géométrique. Une couche avec des traces de feu a livré un grand nombre de figurines de chevaux et de bovidés, et quelques restes construits. Directement sous le niveau géométrique, traces d’occupation mycénienne. E. SKERLOU, ADelt 54 (1999) [2006], Chron. B 2, p. 953-4; J. WHITLEY, AR 2006-2007 (2007) p. 90; voir ChronARG (2007) 09.04.
60 09.08 – Kos – Représentation des Bacchantes de Théocrite – M.M. reprend le problème du lieu de l’action des Bacchantes de Théocrite. Il considère qu’il doit s’agir de Kos et non de Thèbes. À cet effet, il analyse les témoignages épigraphiques (et mentionne des traces archéologiques) du culte dionysiaque sur l’île de Kos. M. MAGNANI, « Le Baccanti di Teocrito e Cos », ZPE 164 (2008), p. 33-44.
61 09.09 – Rhodes (Ville) – XXIIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques–Secteur S, au croisement de Romanou tou Melodou et de Agion Anargyron, endroit identifié comme étant l’Asklepieion de Rhodes : découverte des fondations d’un bâtiment monumental et d’un tambour de colonne dorique. X. PHANTAOUTSAKI, ADelt 54 (1999) [2006], Chron. B 2, p. 929-930; J. WHITLEY, AR 2006-2007 (2007) p. 92; voir ChronARG (2005) 09.16.
62 09.10 – Rhodes – Koinon des initiés aux Mystères de Samothrace en l’honneur de Ptolémée, Cléopâtre et Bérénice–E.G. publie deux inscriptions récemment découvertes près de la ville de Rhodes. Elles proviennent du même bloc, la partie droite d’un monument sur lequel devaient s’élever trois statues. L’inscription de droite, complète, commémore un membre (Apollodotos, fils de Polykratès, fils adoptif de Sositratos) de l’association des initiés aux Mystères de Samothrace en l’honneur de Ptolémée, Cléopâtre et Bérénice. L’A. reprend brièvement la question des associations à Rhodes. Il s’interroge également sur la date de fondation de ce koinon, vu la triade lagide
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mentionnée (sans doute le règne de Ptolémée IX). E.G. réétudie aussi l’inscription Maiuri, Nuova silloge n° 7 qui présente une liste de personnes (où figure Apollodotos) dont la signification est incertaine. L’A. suggère qu’il s’agisse de gens qui ont offert une couronne (de feuillage ou d’or) et des masques d’argent à une divinité (nouvelles restitutions). Parmi les personnes citées, trois ont été des prêtres d’Athana Lindia. E. GRZYBEK, « Rhodische Inschriften », ZPE 164 (2008), p. 67-83.
63 09.11 – Rhodes (Nécropoles) – XXIIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques– Nous ne détaillons pas les nombreuses fouilles de nécropoles à Rhodes. Signalons cependant la découverte dans la nécropole centrale (fouilles à Odos Kon. Ydraiou) d’un autel cylindrique inscrit décoré de bucranes. Dans la nécropole orientale (Odos F0 Atavyrou), à l’extrémité orientale de la fouille, un péribole funéraire de 8 B4 9 m a été mis au jour, entouré d’un mur bas avec une entrée au N. Au S, des plates-formes funéraires ont été retrouvées. Dans un des loculi, se trouvaient 7 vases du début du IIIe s. av. J.-C. À une époque postérieure, un sol en plâtre fut aménagé au-dessus des sépultures. L’intérieur du péribole fut alors utilisé pour des repas funéraires, comme en témoignent les dépôts calcinés contenant surtout des bols et des assiettes. Plusieurs petits autels ont été retrouvés, dont l’un est inscrit et décoré d’un motif de guirlandes et de lierre. Les fouilles menées à Odos Philerimou ont révélé, au S, une zone découpée dans le rocher, aux parois bordées de blocs taillés. L’A. suggère qu’il pourrait s’agir des fondations d’un petit temple funéraire. À l’intérieur, des autels et des stèles inscrits ont été découverts. Ph. ZERVAKI, ADelt 54 (1999) [2006], Chron. B 2, p. 934-5 et 938-939; K. BAÏRAMI, ibid., p. 939-941; J. WHITLEY, AR 2006-2007 (2007) p. 92.
64 09.12 – Rhodes – Kritinia, Phragma Lirou – XXIIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques–Lors de travaux d’aménagement d’un barrage, découverte d’une petite nécropole dont la plupart des tombes avaient été détruites. Mise au jour d’hydries et de kalpis, qui servaient d’urnes cinéraires, et de tombes à tuiles. Une zone pavée entourée de murs faisait peut-être partie d’un péribole. La céramique suggère une utilisation à la période hellénistique et au début de l’époque impériale. A. ALEXANDROPOULOU, ADelt 54 (1999) [2006], Chron. B 2, p. 948; J. WHITLEY, AR 2006-2007 (2007) p. 95.
Cyclades (Christina Mitsopoulou)
65 09.13 – Généralités
66 – Université de Thessalie – IIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – L’A. met au centre de son étude les lieux de culte des Cyclades durant les périodes protogéometrique et géométrique, pour poser le problème de la naissance des cités- états cycladiques. L’étude se concentre notamment sur les lieux de culte cycladiques. On trouve dans cette étude, pour la période considérée : a) le catalogue des sites cycladiques connus à ce moment, b) le catalogue des lieux de culte, où est indiquée leur localisation par rapport aux habitats, et c) le catalogue des lieux de culte qui possèdent des vestiges architecturaux. Après avoir appliqué différents modèles interprétatifs, l’A. conclut à une forte diversité qui exclut de s’en tenir à un seul modèle. La diversité dans les expressions du culte est significative de celle des communautés. On ignore le caractère précis de la structure d’État qui domine dans les Cyclades durant cette
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période. Cette conclusion se trouve fortifiée par une étude précédente de l’A. (voir ChronARG [2002] 09.13), où le contenu technique du terme πόλις est plus précisément cerné. Selon l’A. la πόλις des Cyclades trouve son origine à l’extérieur des îles vers la fin de la période géométrique ou durant la période archaïque et sa genèse dans l’espace cycladique satisfait aux besoins techniques et de communication avec les πόλεις de la Grèce continentale au moment de la formation d’États (de structure inconnue) durant la période PG-G. A.P. GOUNARIS, « Cult places in the Cyclades during the Protogeometric and Geometric Periods: their contribution in interpreting the rise of the Cycladic poleis », in M. YEROULANOU, M. STAMATOPOULOU (éds), Architecture and Archaeology in the Cyclades. Papers in honour of J.J. Coulton, Oxford, 2005, p. 13-68.
67 – Ces deux études sur les sanctuaires et les cultes d’Asclépios concernent notamment les Cyclades. J.W. RIETHMÜLLER, Asklepios. Heiligtümer und Kulte, Heidelberg, 2005; M. MELFI, I santuari di Asclepio in Grecia I, Rome, 2007. – Technische Universität München – Dans cette monographie, l’A. publie le résultat de longues années de recherches sur les autels (bômoi, autels construits) du monde ionien insulaire. Même s’il s’agit d’une étude purement architecturale, elle synthétise les données sur cet élément central du culte dans tout sanctuaire antique. Cette étude sera dès lors utile à quiconque s’intéresse à l’archéologie religieuse des Cyclades. A. OHNESORG, Ionische Altäre. Formen und Varianten einer Architekturgattung aus Insel- und Ostionien, Berlin, 2005.
68 – En 2005, sous la direction d’A. Vlachopoulos, la maison d’édition Melissa a inauguré une série de livres pour le grand public, afin de présenter le profil archéologique de la Grèce sous la plume de chercheurs actifs, en se fondant sur des textes et une bibliographie mise à jour. Pour compléter l’entreprise, des photos originales ont été produites dans plusieurs cas (vues aériennes, prises générales, vues de sites peu connus), et les auteurs ont été choisis parmi les personnes ayant une longue expérience des sites en questions. Le premier volume de cette série est consacré aux îles de la mer Égée. Sans qu’il s’agisse d’une publication spécialisée, le grand nombre d’auteurs et l’intégration de sites peu connus (comme Gyaros, Seriphopoula, Kitrianè ou Rhénée) font de ce livre une référence utile, notamment pour ceux qu’intéresse la religion grecque. A.G. VLACHOPOULOS (éd.), Αρχαιολογία. Νησιά του Αιγαίου, Αθήνα, 2005. 69 – École française d’Athènes – Ce volume présente un large éventail d’études sur la sculpture des Cyclades à l’époque archaïque. Une partie d’entre elles se penche sur la question des sanctuaires – et tout particulièrement celui de Délos – comme lieu d’exposition et de prestige, et donc comme « arène où les ateliers, naxiens et pariens notamment, semblent avoir cherché à définir leur identité… » (p. 17). Y. KOURAYIOS, F. PROST, La Sculpture des Cyclades à l’époque archaïque. Histoire des ateliers, rayonnement des styles. Actes du colloque international organisé par l’Éphorie des Antiquités préhistoriques et classiques des Cyclades et l’École française d’Athènes (7-9 septembre 1998), Athènes, 2008 (BCH Suppl. 48).
70 – Université Tor Vergata, Rome – Il s’agit d’une étude des cultes et des sacerdoces pour une sélection de Cyclades, fondée sur toutes les sources disponibles (textuelles, épigraphiques, archéologiques et numismatiques), s’étendant du VIIIe s. av. J.-C. à
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l’époque impériale. Le livre est organisé en cinq chapitres autonomes, un par île, chacun avec une bibliographie et les sources textuelles, ce qui en facilite la consultation. Pour chaque île, on trouve le cadre géographique et historique (1), puis une introduction générale sur les divinités (2), enrichie de commentaires individuels sur chacune des divinités, dans certains cas par leurs épithètes, avec mention des testimonia qui les concernent. Quand les sources disponibles le permettent, les sacerdoces et les offices sacrés sont commentés (3), ainsi que les fêtes (4). Contrairement à Naxos, une île davantage étudiée, les synthèses sur Ios, Siphnos, Sériphos, Kythnos et Syros disposent de moins de bibliographie. L’approche de l’étude est surtout historique, mais l’A. prend en considération aussi les données archéologiques du terrain, avec une bibliographie assez complète en grec moderne. Les index des sources littéraires et épigraphiques, des divinités, héros et festivités en facilitent la consultation. M.B. SAVO, Culti e sacerdozi e feste delle Cicladi dall’età arcaica all’età romana. I. Io, Nasso, Sifino, Serifo, Citno, Siro, Tivoli/Roma, 2004.
71 – Monnaies – Une étude purement numismatique, longtemps attendue, sur le monnayage archaïque et classique des Cyclades, constitue une approche régionale bien plus variée qu’une discussion sur les émissions d’une seule cité. Bien que le livre ne soit pas voué à des questions de culte, les monnaies sont porteuses d’éléments qui dérivent des cultes principaux des cités. Ainsi, leur discussion systématique peut contribuer à l’étude des cultes. Un exemple pertinent est le cas de Paros (p. 93-94) : l’A. commente l’emblème des statères archaïques en argent, ornés d’un bouc. L’identification de ces séries semble de nos jours assurée. Elles ont depuis longtemps été mises en rapport avec une épigramme de Simonide de Kéos (cf. Diog. Laert. IV, 45), qui nous informe que : δραχμαὶ ταὶ Πάριαι τῶν ἐπίσημα τράγος. L’A. propose d’associer ce bouc au culte majeur de l’île de Paros, celui de Déméter Thesmophoros. Son argument est fondé sur le fait que Déméter est surtout figurée sur les monnaies ultérieures de Paros, et sur un commentaire de Sémos de Délos dans sa Déliade (Ath., III, 109e) : lors des Thesmophories déliennes, les fidèles portaient des gâteaux en forme de boucs. Les îles comprises dans son étude sont Kéos, Kythnos, Sériphos, Siphnos, Melos, Théra, Anaphè, Ténos, Délos, Naxos et Paros. K.A. SHEEDY, The Archaic and Early Classical Coinages of the Cyclades, London, 2006.
72 09.14 – Andros – Université Aristote de Thessalonique – Cette synthèse sur la religion de l’Andros antique s’appuie sur les textes anciens, les inscriptions, l’iconographie, tout autant que sur les fouilles anciennes ou récentes. Le rôle central du culte de Dionysos est surtout attesté par les émissions monétaires de l’île. Le culte principal de l’île semble avoir été celui d’Apollon Pythios. Les liens de l’île avec le sanctuaire delphique remontent selon l’A. à la haute époque de la colonisation, lors de la fondation des colonies andriennes en Égée du Nord. Le temple archaïque localisé sur le terrain Psomas de Palaiopolis pourrait éventuellement être celui de l’Apollon Pythios. L’A. suppose aussi l’existence d’un Délion, car les liens de l’île avec Délos sont attestés par la construction d’un « Oikos des Andriens » à Délos au Ve s. Apollon Patroos est quasiment assuré épigraphiquement (IG XII 5, 732). Parmi les autres cultes, on signale Zeus Meilichios, Zeus Karpophoros, Déméter et Koré (notamment IG XII 5, Suppl. 263), Athéna Ταυροβόλος (Souda), Artémis, Hestia Boulaia, Apollon Patrôos (cf. IG XII 5, 732). Dans le Gymnase d’Andros (Palaiopolis), des inscriptions hellénistiques et romaines témoignent du culte d’Hermès et d’Héraclès, mais ces dieux étaient aussi honorés
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individuellement. On trouve encore les Nymphes (IG XII 5, 731), Aphrodite, Asclépios et Hygie, Némésis, Adrasteia, Ilithyie, des dieux katachthoniens (comme Zeus, Hades, Koré et les Érinyes), un héros προφύλακας et le culte de Gè et Hélios avec celui de Zeus. Les reliefs évoquent le culte de Cybèle, Hermès Kadmilos et Artémis-Hécate. Le culte des souverains et les cultes isiaques sont attestés à partir de la période hellénistique. Une inscription latine témoigne d’un culte de Mithra dans une grotte. M. TIVERIOS, « Η θρησκεία στην αρχαία Άνδρο », in Πρακτικά Β´ Κυκλαδολογικού Συνεδρίου, Θήρα, 31 Αυγούστου-3 Σεπτεμβρίου 1995, Μέρος A΄, Athènes 2001, p. 117-134. 73 09.15 – Andros, Hypsilè – XXI e Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Des travaux d’aménagement ont été réalisés sur le site du sanctuaire d’Hypsilè. Au Musée d’Andros a été aménagé un espace de travail afin de faciliter l’étude du matériel issu des fouilles des années précédentes. L’information est importante, car la publication du matériel en provenance de ce sanctuaire sera une contribution importante à l’étude des sanctuaires archaïques des Cyclades. C.A. TELEVANTOU, « Άνδρος. Αρχαιολογικός χώρος Υψηλής », AD 54 B2 (1999) [2006] p. 782 et 811.
74 09.16 – Andros,Palaiopolis – XXIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – L’A. mentionne une pierre inscrite de la période romaine dans la région de l’agora de Palaiopolis (A.K. 524). Elle fait mention du sanctuaire de Zeus. Cf. EBGR 2005, 155; SEG 54, 804. C.A. TELEVANTOU, « Άνδρος. Περισυλλογή αρχαίων », AD 54 B2 (1999) [2006] p. 817. 75 – Université d’Athènes – La ville ancienne d’Andros, à Palaiopolis, est fouillée depuis une vingtaine d’années par l’Université d’Athènes, sous la direction de l’A. Plusieurs publications ont déjà vu le jour, dont deux monographies (cf. L. PALAIOKRASSA-KOPITSA, Παλαιόπολις άνδρου, 1. Τα οικοδομικά. Από την προανασκαφική έρευνα , άνδρος, 1996). À l’occasion des vingt ans de recherches, les fouilleurs ont organisé une exposition en 2007, accompagnée d’un catalogue commenté, avec de bonnes photos en couleur. Certains chapitres concernent les cultes. Chapitre 8, p. 33-35 : la ville ancienne, topographie; chapitre 9, p. 36-38 : la ville ancienne, les sanctuaires, les maisons, l’acropole. Les pentes de la ville au N et N-E de l’agora conservent la majorité des vestiges et montrent qu’il s’agit du secteur le plus important de la ville, après l’agora. À l’E du ravin, des murs de soutènement ont été identifiés comme appartenant au temple d’Apollon Pythios, bâtiment daté vers la fin du VIe ou au Ve s. par un chapiteau, un triglyphe et une sculpture. L’A. propose de chercher à proximité le sanctuaire des Nymphes. À l’extérieur de la ville fortifiée ont été identifiés deux sanctuaires, tandis que, dans la région Kouphaio, on cherche les sanctuaires d’Hygie et d’Isis. Dans la région de la nécropole orientale de la ville, un ancien bâtiment a été identifié avec un temple du Ve s., probablement d’une divinité féminine. Près de l’agora et de la côte se trouvait le sanctuaire d’Athéna Tauropolos. Le sanctuaire de Zeus Meilichios est assuré dans la région de la nécropole orientale (IG XII 5, 727) et une borne pour le dieu date du IVe s. L’inscription Μὴ χέζειν γυναῖκα est inscrite sur le rocher et est mise en relation avec un sanctuaire de Déméter aux confins de la ville. Le chapitre 18 est consacré aux inscriptions trouvées lors des fouilles du programme, dont les deux mentionnées ci- dessus. Le chapitre 25 est une synthèse des cultes de l’île (p. 96-97). L’importance du culte de Dionysos, d’Apollon et d’Athéna Tauropolos est soulignée. L’A. mentionne brièvement les données concernant les cultes d’Apollon Pythios, Hermès et Héraclès,
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Hygeia, Isis, les Nymphes, Hermès et Pan, Mithra, Ilithyie, la mère des Dieux, Artémis et Aphrodite, Zeus Meilichios et Némésis. Voir aussi 09.14. L. PALAIOKRASSA-KOPITSA (éd.), Παλαιόπολη Άνδρου. Είκοσι χρόνια ανασκαφικής έρευνας, Athènes, 2007.
76 09.17 – Andros, Vriokastro – XXIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Le site de Vriokastro se trouve sur la côte O de l’île, à l’E de Batsi. Son importance archéologique a été soulignée, au début du XXe s., par A. Paschalis qui avait publié l’inscription creusée dans le rocher sur la pente S-O de la colline : Διὸς Γῆς Ἡλίου περιφέρεια (IG XII suppl. 297), probablement une borne du temenos des dieux. L’A. a étudié la région et rapporte des vestiges de la période néolithique, de l’âge du Bronze et la période historique, romaine et paléochrétienne. Les fouilles à venir devraient en révéler davantage. C.A. TELEVANTOU, « Άνδρος. Βριόκαστρο », AD 54 B2 (1999) [2006], p. 817-818. 77 09.18 – Délos. Généralités – École française d’Athènes – Sans qu’il s’agisse d’une publication sur la religion ou les cultes, cet ouvrage devenu classique, en sa quatrième édition, demeure un outil indispensable pour quiconque s’intéresse à Délos, y compris les questions de culte. Mise à jour avant le décès de Ph. Bruneau, cette version du guide sera la dernière de cette génération d’auteurs, mais se trouve enrichie de nombreux commentaires de chercheurs contemporains. Le chapitre consacré aux légendes et aux cultes (p. 49-64) résume les questions principales et est assorti d’une sélection de références bibliographiques récentes et de commentaires. P. BRUNEAU †, J. DUCAT, Guide de Délos. Quatrième édition refondue et mise à jour avec le concours de Michèle Brunet, Alexandre Farnoux et Jean-Charles Moretti, Paris, 2005.
78 – École française d’Athènes – En 2006, J.-C. Moretti a publié le recueil des articles de Philippe Bruneau, avec un index thématique en dix parties, qui dévoile le vaste éventail de cette œuvre (I. Divinités et personnages mythologiques, II. Index prosopographique, III. Fêtes, IV. Monuments de Délos, Mykonos et Rhénée, V. Varia, VI. Textes littéraires, VII. Textes papyrologiques, VIII. Textes épigraphiques, IX. Mots grecs et X. Mots latins). Le mérite en est double : Philippe Bruneau, spécialiste tant des cultes déliens que du terrain archéologique délien, avait publié bien des études en dehors de sa monographie de référence (Recherches sur les cultes de Délos à l’époque hellénistique et romaine, Paris, 1970). Le recueil met à la disposition de la communauté scientifique une œuvre qui dépasse de loin une thématique étroite. P. BRUNEAU, Études d’archéologie délienne. Recueil d’articles rassemblés et indexés par Jean-Charles Moretti, Paris, 2006 (BCH Suppl., 47).
79 09.19 – Délos,Autel de cornes –École française d’Athènes – Cette étude architecturale se fonde sur la conviction des A. que le Monument à abside (GD 39) était fort probablement le Kératôn des inscriptions, enfermant le célèbre Autel de cornes. Le titre de la monographie révèle pourtant l’hésitation prudente des A. Une reconstitution graphique de l’autel est proposée à la fig. 33. L’identification proposée pour le monument GD 39 a des conséquences non négligeables pour la compréhension de la topographie sacrée délienne (p. 78-79). Ph. BRUNEAU, P. FRAISSE, Le Monument à abside et la question de l’Autel de cornes, Paris, 2002 (EAD, 40).
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80 09.20 – Délos, Théâtre – École française d’Athènes – Dans cette monographie, les deux A. publient le monument architectural du théâtre délien, après une période de vingt ans d’étude systématique du terrain, du monument et de plus de quatre mille blocs errants qui en proviennent. Loin de n’être qu’une étude architecturale, l’œuvre comprend un chapitre consacré à la fonction du théâtre (chap. VII), ses spectateurs et les spectacles qui s’y tenaient. Est tiré un bilan de la tradition littéraire faisant mention des fêtes avec les auditions ou concours musicaux déliens. Le théâtre a accueilli après la fin du Ve siècle av. J.-C. un certain nombre des concours musicaux, qui devraient exister sur l’île avant la période de l’Indépendance et qui, avant ce transfert, avaient lieu dans le sanctuaire d’Apollon. Les principaux acquis de la recherche au sujet des spectacles tenus dans le théâtre sont résumés p. 217-228, y compris les Apollonia, Dionysia, Antigoneia, Démétreia et Ptolémaia, comme les spectacles donnés hors concours. P. FRAISSE, J.-Ch. MORETTI, Le Théâtre, Paris, 2007 (EAD, 42).
81 09.21 – Délos, Aphrodision de Stésileos – École française d’Athènes – La saison d’étude du matériel issu des fouilles de 2005-2006 révèle quatre phases d’occupation du sanctuaire, entre la période d’indépendance délienne et l’abandon au Ier s. av. J.-C.
C. DURVYE, « Aphrodision de Stésileos », in AR 2007-2008, p. 89 (C. Morgan).
82 09.22 – Délos, Héraion – École française d’Athènes – En 1999, l’EFA a chargé H. Sarian de la republication du monument de l’Héraion et de ses trouvailles. Cette nouvelle étude d’un matériel anciennement publié amènera à une révision de la chronologie. Des tessons de la période géométrique tardive (750-700 av. J.-C.) posent la question de la date de l’inauguration du culte, tandis que la datation plus basse de certaines céramiques à figures rouges va changer les conclusions concernant la fin du culte. H. SARIAN, « Héraion », AD 54, B 3 (1999) [2006], p. 821.
83 09.23 – Délos, Inopos – École française d’Athènes – L’inscription énonce une série d’interdictions concernant l’usage du point d’eau public nommé Inopos. L’A. ajoute un appendice à son étude (p. 347-348), sur la vieille question de savoir s’il existait un sanctuaire de l’Inopos à Délos. Elle conclut négativement et reste critique à propos d’une possible iconographie de l’Inopos, mise en avant par Ph. Bruneau, LIMC, s.v. Inopos. H. SIARD, « Un règlement trouvé dans le Réservoir de l’Inopos à Délos », BCH 130 (2006), p. 329-348.
84 09.24 – Délos, Monument des taureaux (GD 24)–Emory University, Atlanta, USA – En attendant la publication finale du Néôrion de Samothrace (cf. AJA 91 [1987], p. 270), l’A. offre une étude préliminaire où elle procède à une analyse comparée du monument avec le celui des Taureaux de Délos (GD 24, identifié avec le Néôrion des inscriptions déliennes). Elle pose notamment la question des donateurs et de l’occasion de l’offrande, et propose d’identifier le monument délien avec la dédicace du navire victorieux de la bataille navale de Salamine de Chypre, en 306 av. J.-C., par Démétrios Poliorcète et son père Antigone le Borgne. L’offrande du navire serait la commémoration de la victoire sur Ptolémée Ier. Il s’agit d’une nouvelle discussion de la thèse proposée par C. Picard (RA 40 [1952], p. 79-83), contre l’opinion qu’Antigone Gonatas était l’auteur de la consécration de son navire amiral. B.D. WESTCOAT, « Buildings for votive ships on Delos and Samothrace », in YEROULANOU – STAMATOPOULOU, supra 09.13, p. 153-172.
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85 09.25 – Délos, Sanctuaire d’Apollon – École française d’Athènes – Les travaux effectués dans le sanctuaire avaient trois objectifs : saisir le développement de la terrasse en face du temple, étudier tout le matériel architectural du temple d’Apollon, qui a vérifié la proposition de G. Gruben d’une façade tétrastyle du temple; enfin, un projet de prospection géophysique et de carottages est entrepris pour déterminer la ligne côtière à proximité du sanctuaire d’Apollon et les conditions d’établissement des bâtiments. R. ÉTIENNE, C. MORGAN, AR 2007-2008, p. 89.
86 09.26 – Délos, Sérapieion C – École française d’Athènes – En 1999, l’A a étudié le temple F et la stoa en forme de Γ à l’aide de l’architecte F. Muller. Les commentaires sont d’ordre architectural. Un nouveau monument est évoqué, une petite tholos, probablement votive. H. SIARD, AD 54, B 3 (1999) [2006], p. 821.
87 09.27 – Kéa, Karthaia – Université d’Athènes, Fondation Nationale Hellénique de Recherches (FNHR) – Dans une étude purement architecturale, l’A. commente les bâtiments de l’acropole de Karthaia (Aspri Vigla), Kéa. Il expose l’histoire de l’identification du bâtiment D et des Propylées du sanctuaire d’Athéna. Les Propylées sont le seul bâtiment construit entièrement en marbre blanc. Sa datation ne semble pas évidente en raison des particularités de l’architecture cycladique, traditionnelle et novatrice en même temps. Une date avant ca 430 av. J.-C. ou vers le milieu du IVe s. est proposée. Le bâtiment D est doté d’une haute krepis à quatre marches et possède une cella rectangulaire avec une façade tétrastyle in antis à l’E. La date proposée est la fin du IVe s. ou le début du IIIe. L’article est accompagné de beaux dessins et plans du site et de ses sanctuaires, de la main de l’auteur. Cf. SIMANTONI-BOURNIA et al., infra.
C. KANELLOPOULOS, « The Classical and Hellenistic Building Phases of the Acropolis of Ancient Karthaia, Kea », MDAI(A) 118 (2003), p. 211-238.
88 – Ταμείο Διαχείρισης Πιστώσεων για την Εκτέλεση Αρχαιολογικών Έργων (ΤΔΠΕΑΕ) – Les A. publient un premier compte rendu des travaux étendus entrepris dans la période 2002-2004 sur le site de l’acropole de Karthaia (Aspri Vigla), Kéa, dans le cadre du programme de conservation et de mise en valeur du site, inauguré en 2002. Lors des nettoyages de surface et des remaniements du terrain, certains résultats sont rapportés aux cultes. En 2003 a été mise en évidence la zone entre le temple d’Athéna (DD) et le bâtiment D (cf. KANELLOPOULOS, supra). La partie occidentale de la terrasse portait une construction à gradins, qui débute à l’angle N-O du temple. Cinq gradins ont été découverts et le premier s’appuie sur le rocher. Dans les fissures du rocher ont été trouvés des tessons datant de la fin du VIe et des débuts du Ve s. La céramique des couches d’aménagement de l’espace devant le temple, et de la fondation de la construction à gradins datent de la fin du VIe et du Ve s. Il s’agit surtout de fragments de coupes, de skyphoi attiques, des kotyles et kotyliskoi miniatures, des vases à boire et des cratères à figures noires, et des lampes. Vers l’O de la terrasse a été aménagée une sorte d’exèdre. Une investigation dans l’aile E du temple d’Athéna a révélé une stratigraphie complexe de six couches, dont la dernière, sur le nivellement du sol, était une couche de destruction par incendie. Les travaux dans le sèkos du temple d’Athéna ont mené à l’identification d’une construction antérieure, appartenant à une ancienne utilisation du site. Un mur orienté E-O, légèrement désaxé par rapport à l’orientation E-O du temple, présente une face bien soignée, indiquant probablement une fonction de mur de soutènement d’une ancienne terrasse, qui abritait les activités antérieures à la
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période du temple d’Athéna. Les tessons céramiques vont jusqu’au milieu du VIe s., tandis que le temple a été construit au milieu du VIe s. La céramique fine du VIIe-VIe s., comme la présence de vases miniatures, indiquent une fonction rituelle du site. Sur la terrasse inférieure du temple d’Apollon a été fouillé un espace au N-E du temple. Des tranchées à la recherche de l’autel n’ont pas fourni le résultat souhaité. Un triglyphe en marbre avec une métope jointe a été mis au jour. Les recherches n’ont pas pu révéler des phases architecturales antérieures à 530, date de construction du temple d’Apollon. Le rocher sous le sèkos forme une sorte de fosse orientée NE-SO, parallèle au long axe du temple. Au fond de celui-ci ont été trouvés des traces de feu et un petit fragment d’œnochoé sub-géométrique. Des couches contenant de la céramique géométrique et archaïque ancienne ont été trouvés dans les couches profondes de l’espace devant le temple, sur le rocher. Des traces d’architecture font défaut. Cf. REG (2008), Bull. archéol., n° 331.
E. SIMANTONI-BOURNIA, G. ZACHOS, T. PANAGOU, Μ. KOUTSOUMBOU, Th. BILIS, D. MAVROKORDATOU, « Συντήρηση και ανάδειξη αρχαίας Καρθαίας Κέας. Τα έτη 2002-2004 », Αρχαιογνωσία 14 (2006) [2006], p. 237-284 (pl. 11-33).
89 – Fondation Nationale Hellénique de Recherches (FNHR) – À l’occasion de la découverte d’une nouvelle inscription, l’A. publie une étude synthétique de six inscriptions votives pour Déméter ou Déméter et Koré, en provenance de Karthaia de Kéos (ou ses environs). Le sanctuaire de Déméter de Karthaia est un des mieux documentés des Cyclades, mais reste pourtant non localisé. Cette synthèse permet de systématiser et de revoir les données concernant les inscriptions déjà connues, enrichit le dossier d’une nouvelle inscription, permet la formulation de quelques observations topographiques et conduit à une synthèse des informations disponibles. L.G. MENDONI, « Αναθηματικές επιγραφές από την Καρθαία της Κέας », in N.C. STAMBOLIDIS (éd.), ΓΕΝΕΘΛΙΟΝ. Αναμνηστικός τόμος για την συμπλήρωση είκοσι χρόνων λειτουργίας του Μουσείου Κυκλαδικής Τέχνης, Athènes, 2006, p. 265-273. 90 09.28 – Kythnos, Vryokastro – Université de Thessalie – Dans cette étude présentée en 1995, mais publiée en 2005, l’A. donne un compte rendu de ses travaux extensifs sur le site de l’ancienne cité de Kythnos, avant l’inauguration de la période des fouilles, pendant la période 1990-1995. Comme ces travaux ont été publiés en un autre lieu (cf. A. MAZARAKIS AINIAN, « The Kythnos Survey Project: a preliminary report », in L.G. MENDONI, A. MAZARAKIS AINIAN (éds), Κέα-Κύθνος. Ιστορία και αρχαιολογία. Πρακτικά του Διεθνούς Συμποσίου Κέα-Κύθνος, 22-25 Ιουνίου 1994, Αθήνα, 1998, p. 363-379 et Praktika 1995 [1998], p. 137-209), le rapport est bref. Les trois endroits de la ville ou ont été localisés des sanctuaires sont présentés : le sanctuaire de l’acropole, identifié probablement avec un sanctuaire de Déméter (cf. MITSOPOULOU, infra), les vestiges architecturaux visibles en surface sont décrits en détail. Aux trois grands bâtiments publics ou sacrés visibles sur la terrasse médiane de la ville haute est rapportée la multitude d’objets votifs observée dans les alentours. Le premier est le sanctuaire archaïque fouillé depuis 2002 (cf. MAZARAKIS AINIAN 2005, infra). L’A. procède à une description analytique de l’architecture du deuxième complexe de deux bâtiments monumentaux, qui fut dessiné par C. Hanssen en 1836. Le bâtiment 1, au S, est mieux F0 conservé. Il mesure 17 B4 11,60 m. On accède à la partie O par deux seuils in situ, la partie E pourrait être un portique dorique. Une exèdre, une citerne et un autel à proximité sont mentionnés. Le bâtiment 2, au N, est plus grand (20 m de longueur et
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conservé sur une hauteur de 3,30 m), mais est enseveli presque entièrement. Par la qualité de l’appareil isodome, les deux constructions peuvent être datées des IVe-IIIe s., mais le tesson le plus ancien de la région est daté de la période proto-géométrique. À proximité de ce complexe fut trouvée l’inscription mentionnant les dieux de Samothrace (IG XII 5, 1057), mais une statue colossale en marbre, trouvée quelques terrasses plus bas dans la ville, a été attribuée à Aphrodite. Si l’identification du premier bâtiment avec un telestèrion des divinités samothraciennes semble probable, Apollon ne peut être exclu pour le deuxième. Au sommet de la colline la plus au N de la cité a été localisé un sanctuaire, en raison de nombreuses figurines en terre cuite. A. MAZARAKIS AINIAN, « Επιφανειακές έρευνες στην αρχαία πόλη της Κύθνου », in Πρακτικά Β΄Κυκλαδολογικού Συνεδρίου, Θήρα 31 Αυγούστου-3 Σεπτεμβρίου 1995, Μέρος Β΄, Athènes, 2005, p. 154-186.
91 – Université de Thessalie (en coll. avec la XXIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques) – L’A. offre ici sa première publication en anglais des résultats préliminaires concernant ses fouilles dans le sanctuaire archaïque situé sur la terrasse médiane de la partie haute de la cité de Kythnos, à Vryokastro, entreprises entre 2002 et 2004. Après une décennie de prospections de surface, l’A. a procédé à l’investigation systématique du site localisé l’année précédente, qui s’est avéré d’un grand intérêt. Après une introduction sur les travaux plus anciens, le temple archaïque est présenté, orienté F0 vers l’O, posé sur une terrasse de 26 B4 15 m retenue par un fort mur de soutènement. Il est entouré d’un péribole et constitué de deux oikoi rectangulaires séparés par un mur intermédiaire étroit. L’oikos N (E) n’est conservé qu’au niveau des fondations. L’oikos S F0 F0 est mieux conservé et constitué d’un petit adyton de 2,90 B4 2 m, et d’une cella de 5 B4 2,90 m. Le bâtiment central est entouré d’autres pièces à l’E et au N, appartenant probablement à une phase postérieure de construction, comme l’indique la différence du matériel de construction. Un fragment de triglyphe dorique indique probablement l’ordre du temple. Une salle se trouve derrière l’adyton (C), à l’E, et un espace oblong au N, le long de l’adyton et de la cella (D). Dans cet espace, la fouille a pu observer l’addition d’un mur butant, construit verticalement contre le coin N-E du temple. En- dessous de ce muret a été localisé un sacrifice de fondation, avec des restes architecturaux, probablement appartenant à une phase antérieure du bâtiment. La restauration date de la fin du IIIe s. Suit une description détaillée de l’architecture du temenos, par secteurs, de la relation du temple avec l’enceinte de la ville, de la zone au S du temple où se trouvent deux autels construits en pierre, dans une orientation N-S. Vers l’E, l’espace entre l’autel 2 et l’enceinte était rempli d’un vaste dépôt, ou les débris d’anciens sacrifices et offrandes votives étaient déposés. Ce matériel est mêlé, contenant des objets archaïques mais aussi de la céramique hellénistique et des monnaies, indiquant que le dernier aménagement du site fut réalisé dans les basses époques de son utilisation. Le premier plan du complexe est publié, correspondant à la situation des recherches en 2004. L’A. procède ensuite à une présentation sélective et préliminaire des objets, qui dépassent le nombre de mille et sont issus de tous les endroits fouillés, à l’intérieur du temple et de l’adyton, mais aussi des espaces environnants. Le fait important est que l’adyton a été trouvé intact, sans aucune intervention après le moment de destruction, fournissant plusieures centaines d’objets intacts ou fragmentaires. La grande majorité des trouvailles est datée de la période archaïque (VIIe-VIe s.), mais des objets plus anciens apparaissent. On ne sait s’il s’agit de reliques ou s’ils correspondent à une phase plus ancienne du culte. Les discussions
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concernant l’identité de(s) la divinité(s) vénérée(s) sont prématurées. L’A. n’exclut aucune des déesses majeures du panthéon grec (Artémis ou Aphrodite, et puis Athéna, Déméter ou Héra). L’A. donne un bref compte rendu des autres cultes localisés dans la cité, comme le sanctuaire de Déméter sur l’Acropole (cf. MITSOPOULOU, infra), les Dieux de Samothrace, les données concernant Aphrodite, et Artémis et Apollon, souvent représentés sur les monnaies de Kythnos. Pour les fouilles à Kythnos sous la direction d’A. Mazarakis Ainian, cf. aussi la page http://www.ha.uth.gr/gr/research. kythnos.asp (Université de Thessalie), annuellement mise à jour, où se trouve une liste exhaustive des comptes rendus publiés. A. MAZARAKIS AINIAN, « Inside the adyton of a Greek temple. Excavations on Kythnos (Cyclades) », in YEROULANOU – STAMATOPOULOU, supra 09.13, p. 87-104.
92 – Université de Thessalie – Dans cet article sont présentées les principales catégories de céramique, lampes, figurines et terres cuites en provenance de la prospection dans la ville ancienne de Kythnos, sur le site de Vryokastro. L’étude est divisée en deux parties, la première synthétisant la céramique issue de la ville intra muros et des deux nécropoles au N et au S des enceintes, tandis que la deuxième est réservée aux objets issus de l’acropole du site, ou se trouvait au moins un sanctuaire de divinité féminine. Le spectre chronologique de la céramique s’étend de la période géométrique et archaïque à la période paléochrétienne (au moins au VIIIe s. ap. J.-C.). Les périodes plus systématiquement représentées parmi les trouvailles de surface sont la période classique et hellénistique. Le matériel de l’acropole provient de deux endroits principalement : a) un dépôt votif, situé sur le flanc N-E, légèrement en retrait du sommet même, reconnu par un grand tas de pierres, probablement d’un édifice démoli, et b) du flanc E de la colline, à quelques mètres de l’endroit a. Il s’agit en fait du résultat d’une forte dégradation du sol, qui entraîne des nombreux fragments à dévaler la pente. Le lot examiné comprend plusieurs centaines de fragments, appartenant à des figurines en terre cuite, de la céramique fine (cratères, coupes, skyphoi, mais surtout des hydries-kalpeis à figures noires), des lampes et lustres de sanctuaire (polyelaioi) datant entre le VIIe/VIe s. et la période impériale, des vases miniatures archaïques étant sans doute du matériel votif, des vases complexes (hydries à hydries miniatures adossées ou anneaux kernoïdes à hydrisques), et une dizaine de fragments appartenant à la catégorie rare des vases rituels d’Éleusis, connus comme kernoi à cupules schématisées (des plèmochoai éleusiniennes). Il doit s’agir d’un sanctuaire de Déméter, même si l’identification n’est assurée par aucun texte. Ce matériel constitue un des rares exemples de l’équipement d’un sanctuaire de Déméter de la région des Cyclades (des types de femmes assises ou debout, les plus nombreuses étant des hydriaphores, de jeunes enfants, surtout des garçons avec boucles de cheveux et dans une moindre mesure, des fillettes, des animaux, dont quelques porcelets, des lampes monumentales à plusieurs becs datées au VIe s. et à la période classique). La présence, rare, du vase rituel propre au sanctuaire attique de Déméter et Koré à Éleusis, le kernos ou la plèmochoe, censé d’avoir servi lors des Mystères, est un cas unique en dehors de l’Attique et est ici analysée. C. MITSOPOULOU, « Βρυόκαστρο Κύθνου: Κεραμεική, Λύχνοι και Ειδώλια από την αρχαία πόλη και το ιερό της Ακρόπολης. Πρώτα στοιχεία από την Επιφανειακή έρευνα », in Πρακτικά Β΄Κυκλαδολογικού Συνεδρίου, Θήρα 31 Αυγούστου-3 Σεπτεμβρίου 1995, Μέρος Β΄, Athènes, 2005, p. 293-358. Voir aussi C. MITSOPOULOU, « Terracotta Figurines from the Sanctuaries of the Ancient Town of Kythnos, Cyclades », in M. FEUGÈRE, E. LAFLI, A. MULLER
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(éds), Terracotta Figurines in the Greek and Roman Eastern Mediterranean: Production and Diffusion, Iconography and Function, June 2-6, 2007, Izmir, Turkey. Abstracts, Instrumentum 25 (2007), p. 29.
93 – Université de Thessalie – Cet article récent fait le point sur la grande fouille du sanctuaire archaïque de Kythnos. Concernant l’identité de la divinité vénérée, la possibilité d’un double culte, comme par exemple Artémis et Apollon, n’est pas exclue, étant donné les oikoi jumeaux et la présence de deux autels qui semblent contemporains. Mais d’autres divinités ne peuvent pas encore être exclues à ce stade. A. MAZARAKIS AINIAN, C. MITSOPOULOU, « Από την επιφανειακή έρευνα στην ανασκαφή: το ιερό της αρχαίας Κύθνου », in E. KONSOLAKI-YANNOPOULOU (éd.), Έπαθλον. Αρχαιολογικό Συνέδριο προς τιμήν του Αδώνιδος Κ. Κύρου, Πόρος, 7-9 Ιουνίου 2002, Τόμος Α΄ , Αθήνα, 2007, p. 307-384.
94 09.29 – Naxos –Université d’Athènes – L’article publié dans ce volume collectif sur Naxos offre une utile synthèse de données publiées en d’autres lieux, sur la topographie, l’histoire, les sanctuaires et les cultes de Naxos durant la période historique. Bien illustré, il est accompagné d’une bibliographie générale, accessible au grand public. Cf. aussi le chapitre sur Naxos dans VLACHOPOULOS, supra 09.13, p. 278-285.
V. LAMBRINOUDAKIS, « Η Νάξος κοντά στους ιστορικούς χρόνους », in M. SERGIS, S. PSARRAS (éds), Νάξος. Αρμενίζοντας στο χρόνο, Naxos, 2006, p. 64-77. 95 09.30 – Naxos, Hyria – Université d’Athènes, Ταμείο Διαχείρισης Πιστώσεων για την Εκτέλεση Αρχαιολογικών Έρων (ΤΔΠΕΑΕ) – L’ A. présente nombreuses figurines en terre cuite du type de la déesse au trône, issues des fouilles du sanctuaire de Hyria à Naxos. Le type est répandu et considéré comme important pour l’identification du culte (article à paraître). E. SIMANTONI-BOURNIAS, « The Seated-Goddess Figurines from the Hyria Sanctuary at Naxos » (abstract), in FEUGÈRE – LAFLI – MULLER (éds), supra 09.28, p. 34.
96 – Université d’Athènes – L’article renforce l’idée d’une influence chypriote à Naxos. À propos de la découverte de fragments d’un masque idéalisé barbu de la fin du VIIIe – début VIIe s., l’A. avance l’hypothèse qu’il était porté lors d’un rituel d’union entre Dionysos et une déesse de la fécondité identifiée à Ariane. Cf. Kernos 21 (2008), p. 381. E. SIMANTONI-BOURNIA, « Un masque humain à Hyria de Naxos, nouveau témoignage de contacts chypriotes », BCH 128-129 (2004-2005), p. 119-132.
97 09.31 – Naxos, Grotte de Zas, Mont Zas, Hyria, Palatia – Étude préliminaire du matériel céramique issu des fouilles en 1985-1987 (Éphorie de Spéléologie) dans la grotte de Zas, peut-être vouée à Zeus. La majeure partie du matériel va du VIe au Ve s. (céramique cycladique, importations attiques, corinthiennes et de la Grèce de l’E, céramique à figures noires et céramique commune), pour diminuer progressivement entre le IVe s. et la période romaine. La majorité appartient à des vases à boire, mais des formes plus grandes et usuelles apparaissent. L’A. constate la faible présence d’objets indicateurs d’un culte, en comparaison avec d’autres sanctuaires cycladiques contemporains. C’est ainsi qu’elle reprend la discussion autour des trois divinités principales de Naxos : Apollon, Dionysos et Zeus. Les données archéologiques concernant chacun des cultes sont synthétisées, les questions majeures qui attendent encore d’être résolues sont abordées, et des conclusions qui paraissaient assurées sont mises en question. Il semble que Zeus était vénéré à Naxos davantage comme dieu des
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bergers. Pour Dionysos, la divinité principale de l’île, l’A. plaide en faveur de l’attribution du sanctuaire d’Hyria à son culte, sans que cela ne soit totalement décisif. Pour Apollon, elle rappelle que l’identification du grand temple archaïque de Palatia comme un Délion, ou sanctuaire d’Apollon Délios, demeure largement hypothétique. S. MORRIS, « Apollo, Dionysos and Zeus: on the Sacred Landscape of Ancient Naxos », in E. SIMANTONI-BOURNIA, A.A. LAIMOU, L.G. MENDONI, N. KOUROU (éds), Αμύμονα έργα. Τιμητικός τόμος για τον καθηγητή Βασίλη Κ. Λαμπρινουδάκη, Athènes, 2007, p. 96-108. 98 09.32 – Naxos, Melanes – Université d’Athènes – L’A. présente un bilan des fouilles récentes complétées sur le site de Phlério, au S-E du village de Melanes à Naxos. Il s’agit de la région des plus riches carrières archaïques de marbre à Naxos, connues depuis longtemps et amplement étudiées. La région riche en eau était importante pour l’île et l’A. mentionne un sanctuaire situé sur les pentes surplombant les sources, situé dans les installations d’une ancienne carrière primitive de marbre, et enclos d’un péribole. Un élément principal semble avoir été un grand rocher de marbre. De traces d’occupation préhistorique et mycénienne sont rapportées, mais le sanctuaire semble avoir été fondé vers la fin du VIIIe s., avoir connu son essor aux VIIe et VIe s., avec une continuité du culte jusqu’à la fin de l’antiquité (cf. aussi 09.33). L’A. offre une description minutieuse des phases de construction et des particularités architecturales des bâtiments de culte et bâtisses secondaires, comme des éléments qui permettent la datation. Il présente un premier bâtiment sacré de la fin du VIIIe s., avec un simple oikos quasiment rectangulaire, et puis un oikos du début du 3 e quart du VIIe s. Dans la 1re moitié du VIe s., l’ancien oikos subit des destructions naturelles, et les réparations comprennent un lieu de sacrifices entre le rocher de marbre et le péribole. L’ancien oikos est restauré et le deuxième oikos remanié, une ancienne pyra étant couverte par un amas de pierres autour duquel un banc semi-circulaire est installé. À 30 m vers le S, des bâtisses en série sont interprétées comme des habitations des responsables du sanctuaire ou des visiteurs, ou bien comme des lieux de préparation de repas rituels. Vers le milieu du VIe s.
F0 un troisième petit temple (3 B4 4 m) orienté vers le N, en pierres mégalithiques occupe la zone entre l’entrée S et les anciens bâtiments sacrés. Les trouvailles comprennent des figurines en terre cuite (figurine féminine assise ou dressée), fragments de pithoi en relief, et nombreux fragments en marbre, appartenant à des colonnes votives, des kouroi, des bassins, etc. Le grand pourcentage de marbres inachevés conduit l’A. à les interpréter comme des offrandes de la part des ouvriers des carrières avoisinantes, qui étaient les principaux visiteurs du sanctuaire. Il s’agirait du sanctuaire d’une divinité féminine au culte mystérique ou chthonien, associé au culte secondaire d’une divinité ou d’un héros lié au travail dangereux de la pierre. V. LAMBRINOUDAKIS, « A new early Archaic building on Naxos. Some thoughts on the Oikos of the Naxians on Delos », in YEROULANOU – STAMATOPOULOU, supra 09.13, p. 79-86.
99 09.33 – Naxos, Sangri – Université d’Athènes – L’A. consacre un article à la question de l’identification des divinités vénérées dans le sanctuaire de Yiroulas, situé au sommet d’une colline dominant la pleine fertile de Sangri. Le culte en plein air est instauré au VIIe s. et lié à plusieurs fosses creusées dans le rocher, parfois en systèmes doubles, connectés par un canal étroit. Les fosses contenaient des tessons de céramique géométrique récente et d’époque archaïque. Cela renverrait à un rituel de libations correspondant au rituel connu par les textes tardifs : les plèmochoai qui avaient lieu durant le dernier jour des mystères d’Éleusis. Ainsi Sangri offrirait pour la première fois une attestation archéologique pour un rituel connu jusqu’alors par les seuls textes
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et l’iconographie. Au centre de ce système de fossés, des trous dans le rocher sont interprétés comme des restes de bâtisses simples, comparables aux huttes construites par les femmes lors des Thesmophories. Dans la phase suivante, autour de 530 av. J.C., est construit le temple de marbre. Le plan particulier, avec le pronaos longitudinal à cinq colonnes et la cella oblique à laquelle on accédait par deux porches élaborés, l’absence de plafond et les tuiles translucides en marbre ont mené à une identification du bâtiment avec une salle de mystères, un telestèrion. Un fossé quadrangulaire devant le temple est interprété comme un bothros, qui remplaça le système de fosses multiples antérieures. Après une période de décadence et abandon, le temple est transformé en église à l’époque paléochrétienne, et le lieu du bothros occupé par une phiale byzantine, un bassin. Les trouvailles sont peu nombreuses, colonnes votives, fragments de statues, bassins et tables, et céramique, dont les plus caractéristiques appartiennent à des hydrisques votives, modèles votifs des hydries portées par des femmes dans les sanctuaires de Déméter. Pour l’A. les traits caractéristiques du sanctuaire renvoient à un culte de fertilité, et plus précisément à Déméter. Les inscriptions environnantes mentionnent des divinités éleusiniennes et Apollon. Le sanctuaire pourrait donc avoir accueilli Déméter et Apollon, une association assez rare. Un vieux sanctuaire de fertilité aurait pu intégrer Apollon dans une période de rivalités entre ville et campagne aux VIIe et VIe s., tandis que pendant la période classique la forte influence athénienne aurait imposé le schéma éleusinien. Cf. aussi ChronARG (2003) 09.29 et V. LAMBRINOUDAKIS, G. GRUBEN et al., « Naxos. Das Heiligtum von Gyroula bei Sangri. Eine neugefundene, drei Jahrtausende alte Kultstätte der Demeter“, AntW 33 (2002), p. 387-406. V. LAMBRINOUDAKIS, « Apollon and Demeter: Could they have a common cult? », in C.A. DI STEPHANO (éd.), Demetra: la divinità, i santuari, il culto, la leggenda. Atti del I Congresso internazionale, Enna, 1-4 luglio 2004, Pisa/Rome 2008, p. 93-97.
100 09.34 – Naxos & Paros, Palatia-Temple d’Apollon, Hyria, Sangri – Technische Universität München – Dans un article de synthèse, l’A. discute certains aspects de l’architecture des sanctuaires de Sangri et Hyria à Naxos, en se fondant sur l’expérience accumulée à travers de longues années d’étude des monuments de Naxos et Paros, en collaboration avec l’Université et l’École Polytechnique d’Athènes. Un bref aperçu des quatre temples successifs d’Hyria est donné et le temple de marbre de Sangri est décrit. La structure du VIes. est vue comme un Thesmophorion (voir supra 09.33). Pour le temple d’Apollon dans la ville de Naxos, à Palati, l’A. fournit des informations préliminaires sur sa construction et sa transformation en église chrétienne. Un autre temple archaïque tardif semble attesté par deux gouttières en tête de lion. Son emplacement était probablement à proximité de l’église d’Agios Mamas. L’A. ajoute à la discussion d’autres temples, parties de temples et offrandes votives « exportées » vers Délos, Delphes et Athènes. Pour Paros, elle constate que les bâtiments sacrés ne sont pas attestés pour une date aussi haute que Naxos, le plus ancien étant le temple d’Athéna à Koukounaries. Un bâtiment important, équivalent en dimensions et date de la phase Hyria IV (milieu du VIe s. av. J.-C.) doit avoir existé dans la ville de Paros. Quatre temples archaïques ioniques existaient à Paros vers la fin du VIe s., et au moins trois temples doriques dans la ville de Paros. L’A. évoque deux grands chapiteaux doriques, une architrave et quelques tambours de colonnes, tous inédits, trouvés récemment dans le port de Paros et qui indiquent l’existence d’un temple « canonique » dorique à Paros, autour de 520 av. J.C. Si ce temple était périptère, il avait des dimensions supérieures au temple naxien d’Apollon, étant le seul temple périptère
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archaïque connu dans les Cyclades. La synthèse se referme sur une discussion des décors architecturaux du IVe s. et sur certaines exportations pariennes, ainsi que sur la discussion de bâtiments classiques et hellénistiques. A. OHNESORG, « Naxian and Parian architecture. General features and new discoveries », in YEROULANOU – STAMATOPOULOU, supra 09.13, p. 135-152.
101 09.35 – Paros – XXIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques – La publication récente d’un petit guide anglophone par le fouilleur de maints sites de Paros, Antiparos et Despotiko, rend de la valeur à une publication qui serait désignée comme livret de vulgarisation. Pourvu d’une courte bibliographie sélectionnée et de photos en couleurs, le guide pourra être utile pour chaque personne intéressée par les sanctuaires des îles concernées. Y. KOURAYIOS, Paros, Antiparos. History – Monuments – Museums, Athènes, 2004.
102 09.36 – Paros, Asclépieion – Publié peu avant la monographie sur les sanctuaires grecs d’Asclépios (supra 09.13), cet article concentre les données archéologiques et épigraphiques concernant le complexe jadis fouillé par O. Rubensohn à Agia Anna de Paroikia. Il s’agit d’une nouvelle lecture du complexe architectural, où Apollon Pythios aurait été supplanté par Asclépios dès le Ve s. av. J.-C. Étude des phases du sanctuaire, de sa structure et du culte qui y était rendu à Asclépios. Mentionnons tout particulièrement les offrandes de cheveux de jeunes garçons par leurs parents ou par des personnages officiels en charge du sanctuaire. Il s’agirait d’un rite de passage. L’article se referme sur un appendice reprenant toutes les inscriptions du sanctuaire (nos 1-46). M. MELFI, « Il complesso del Pythion-Asklepieion a Paro », ASAtene 80 (2002), p. 327-359.
103 09.37 – Paros, Paroikia – XXIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Les A. publient un fragment de relief en marbre trouvé en 1998, représentant une figure féminine péplophore (AK 1290) et provenant des fouilles autour d’un grand bâtiment public ou sanctuaire localisé par l’Éphorie dans la région d’Agios Panteleimon, aux confins N de l’ancienne ville (Paroikia), à l’extérieur de l’enceinte (AD 1999 [2006]). Le style permet de le dater des années 420/410 av. J.-C. Le relief est mis en relation avec le culte de Déméter Thesmophoros à Paros, dont le sanctuaire n’a pas encore été localisé. Résumé des données concernant le Thesmophorion parien et le culte de Déméter sur l’île. Les A. proposent de situer le sanctuaire sur le site d’Agios Panteleimon. Le relief serait une frise d’autel. Les travaux sur le site ne sont pas achevés et l’interprétation n’est donc pas définitive. À propos de ce site, voir aussi Y. KOURAYIOS, « Παροικιά. Οικόπεδο Σ. Αλιφέρη – Σ. Δαφερέρα », AD 54 B2 (1999) [2006], p. 788-794. Y. KOURAYIOS, S. DETORATOU, « Ανάγλυφο πεπλοφόρου και η σύνδεσή του με το Θεσμοφόριο της Πάρου », in STAMBOLIDIS, supra 09.27, p. 237-248. 104 09.38 – Prepesinthos / Despotiko
105 – La présentation des publications concernant cette île est reportée à la chronique de 2010.
106 09.39 – Siphnos – Les A. procèdent à une synthèse des données sur le panthéon siphnien, en retraçant son évolution de la période archaïque jusqu’à la période romaine, par le biais des témoignages littéraires, épigraphiques, numismatiques et archéologiques disponibles.
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M.E. GORRINI, M. MELFI, « Siphnos: Some notes on the reconstruction of the pantheon », in Proceedings of the IInd International Siphnian Symposium, Siphnos 27-20 June 2002, In Memoriam Nikolaos Vernicos-Eugenides , vol. I. Antiquity, Athènes, 2005, p. 215-226.
107 09.40 – Siphnos, grottes – Éphorie de Paléoanthropologie-Spéléologie de la Grèce du Sud – L’Éphorie de Spéléologie inaugure un projet de recherche au sujet des cultes dans les grottes et vient de lancer un corpus des grottes sacrées des Cyclades. Siphnos a été choisie comme cas pilote. D’abord, la phase heuristique consistera en une collecte des sources écrites et une étude des cartes et données géologiques. Ensuite, la fouille sera appliquée là où elle est nécessaire. Deux missions ont été effectuées à Siphnos en 2002. 34 sites de grottes et cavernes relèvent du traitement heuristique, tandis que 11 grottes ont été recensées par autopsie. De ces 45 grottes, un tiers sont des cavernes côtières, dont l’importance ne peut être estimée sans recherche sous-marine. Sont exclues les formations techniques, comme les installations minières. De la trentaine de grottes terrestres, la majorité a été localisée. Un commentaire important a été appliqué à la grotte des Nymphes à Kamares qui a attiré très tôt l’attention des voyageurs et a maintenant été fouillée. Les trouvailles sont peu nombreuses, des tessons et quelques os d’animaux. L’autel était peut-être le rocher qui porte l’inscription ayant permis d’identifier le site, datée vers la fin du VIe ou au Ve s. L’étude est complétée par le rapport d’investigation de quelques autres grottes, dont une nouvelle (grotte de Kalogria), avec commentaires topographiques et géologiques. S. SAMARTZIDOU-ORKOPOULOU, « Ερευνώντας τις λαϊκές λατρείες και τα σπήλαια της Σίφνου », in IInd International Siphnian Symposium, supra 09.39, p. 251-270. 108 09.41 – Siphnos, Artémis – Université d’Athènes – N. Kourou procède à une analyse du culte d’Artémis Ἐκβατηρία à Siphnos, épithète peu connue, mentionnée par Hésychios. Elle s’appuie sur les données textuelles et archéologiques, et livre un résumé des données sur les cultes de Siphnos. Elle exclut la possibilité qu’Artémis et Apollon aient été vénérés dans le même sanctuaire. Le sanctuaire d’Artémis a été localisé dans la partie N-E de l’acropole de Kastro de Siphnos, par les fouilleurs anglais du début du siècle, sur la base du témoignage d’Hésychios et des trouvailles d’un dépôt votif. Il contient surtout de la céramique, mais aussi des petits objets, comme des sceaux et des bijoux en ivoire, datant de la période géométrique à la période hellénistique. Le meilleur témoignage est pourtant fourni par les figurines en terre cuite de grandes dimensions, produites à la main et au tour de potier, datées de la 1re moitié du VIIe s. (cf. ChronARG [2002] 09.24). Les Anglais avaient proposé le culte d’Artémis, sans pour autant exclure le culte d’Athéna, tandis que l’A. les met en relation avec une ancienne forme de culte d’Artémis en tant que Potnia. A. Moustaka a récemment interprété les figurines comme des Palladia (« Πρώιμα πήλινα παλλάδια », in D. DAMASKOS [éd.], Αφιέρωμα στη Μνήμη του Στέλιου Τριάντη, Μουσείο Μπενάκη, 1ο Παράρτημα, Athènes, 2002, p. 17-28), et conclu à un culte d’Athéna. L’étude du style des figurines conduit l’A. à reconstituer une évolution du culte d’une Potnia encore peu différenciée vers le culte d’Artémis. Artémis Ἐκβατηρία serait une hypostase purement siphnienne, d’un stade d’évolution plus avancé, en relation avec un culte pour les jeunes filles nubiles. Le culte d’Artémis Éphésia apparaît bien plus tard et l’A. avertit que le grand relief du Musée de Siphnos ne dispose pas d’une provenance assurée et pourrait être originaire d’Asie Mineure. Ce n’est pas l’avis de Ph. N. Zapheiropoulou qui offre une nouvelle interprétation du relief. Il représente la déesse sous la forme d’une stèle hermaïque, qui pourrait renvoyer à la statue de culte. La représentation des oiseaux sur le chapiteau
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des colonnettes qui soutiennent les bras est rare et l’A. y voit un écho de particularités cultuelles propres à l’île. Le relief serait d’époque romaine. N. KOUROU, « ‘Πότνια’ και ‘Εκβατηρία’. Παραλλαγές της λατρείας της Αρτέμιδος στη Σίφνο », in IInd International Siphnian Symposium , supra 09.39, p. 227-242; Ph. N. ZAPHEIROPOULOU, « Ανάγλυφο άρτεμης Εφεσίας στη Σίφνο », ibid., p. 215-226. 109 09.42 – Siphnos, Agios Andreas – XXIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – L’A. rapporte sur les travaux réalisés sur le site d’Agios Andreas pendant la période 2002-2006, après l’intégration du site dans un grand programme d’aménagement. Une description minutieuse des constructions identifiées est fournie et nous nous limitons aux données concernant le bâtiment ΣΤ, identifié en 2005 comme sanctuaire (cf. ID., “Ακρόπολη Αγίου Ανδρέα Σίφνου. Οικιστικές φάσεις”, in IInd International Siphnian Symposium, supra 09.39, p. 61-70), et amplement commenté par l’A. dans cette publication. Il occupe la partie centrale du coté S de l’acropole, dressé sur un endroit privilégié, dans l’axe de l’entrée centrale (III) et dans un endroit protégé par les vents forts. Il s’agit d’un bâtiment aux dimensions impressionnantes et à l’appareil soigné. Daté de la fin de la période archaïque, il a probablement intégré au moins deux autres constructions antérieures. Dans la première phase (Phase A) il s’agit d’une construction orthogonale, bipartite, orientée du N-E vers le S-O, et ses dimensions visibles sont 8,08 m. (S), 4,81 m. (E), 13,05 m. (O). Dans la deuxième phase (Phase B), un nouveau bâtiment est construit au-dessus, d’une largeur de 4,57 m., avec une toute autre orientation (E-O). Ces deux bâtiments avec leurs offrandes ont été intégrés vers la fin du VIe s. dans un grand bâtiment, le seul de l’acropole à être construit en pierre calcaire locale (Phase C). Il n’est pourtant pas bien conservé, était quasiment orthogonal avec des dimensions externes de 14,04 à 17 m, fondé sur le rocher. L’utilisation du site est attestée de la fin de la période géométrique à la période hellénistique. Les nombreuses trouvailles comprennent des vases, des objets en métal (bijoux, armes et outils), des lamelles en plomb et des disques à décor imprimé et incisé, probablement des ornements d’objets en bois. De petits objets d’autres matières sont attestés (pierre, os, argile), et des bijoux, sceaux, etc. Une série de figurines en terre cuite comprend surtout des chevaux et des figures féminines. Remarquables sont les anneaux en terre cuite portant des animaux, comme le fragment d’une statuette en marbre d’une figure féminine portant une phialè, probablement une prêtresse (?), trouvée à proximité du sanctuaire. Le sanctuaire n’est pas mentionné par les sources textuelles, l’identité de la divinité vénérée est inconnue, mais peut être inférée des trouvailles. Deux sujets s’imposent, l’oiseau et le cheval, mais aussi le griffon et le chien qui renvoient à un culte féminin relié à la nature et la fécondité, une Potnia thèron à laquelle a succédé Artémis. À la fonction du sanctuaire est probablement lié le complexe X qui dispose d’une grande cour centrale donnant accès à des pièces sur trois côtés. Des fragments de pithoi en relief avec la représentation de la Gorgo proviennent de cet endroit. L’A. répète l’opinion exprimée en 2005, selon laquelle le site pourrait être identifié avec la cité Minoa de Siphnos. C.A. TELEVANTOU, « Ακρόπολη Αγίου Ανδρέα Σίφνου. Οι πρόσφατες έρευνες », in Proceedings of the IIIrd International Siphnian Symposium, Siphnos 20 June-2 July 2006. In Memoriam Nikolaos Vernicos-Eugenides, Athènes, 2009, p. 23-40.
110 09.43 – Siphnos, Kastro – XXIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – L’A. procède à une synthèse des éléments déjà connus et publie de nouvelles données archéologiques sur l’acropole de l’ancienne cité de Siphnos, située au sommet de Kastro. Ces commentaires sont issus des fouilles de sauvetage et des travaux de
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nettoyage entrepris par l’Éphorie des Cyclades dans des endroits de l’enceinte en marbre (région I) et à l’intérieur de l’acropole (région II). Pour la région I, l’A. fournit des commentaires détaillés au sujet de la formation de l’enceinte. Pour la région II, dans la partie S-E de l’acropole, près de l’enceinte, l’A. évoque la fouille d’un bâtiment antique monumental intégré dans l’enceinte. La stratigraphie est mêlée, avec des tessons de la période géométrique aux temps modernes. À cause de la largeur des fondations du mur du bâtiment (2,20 m.), l’A. conclut qu’il s’agit d’un remploi de membres architecturaux d’un bâtiment du Ve s. dans l’enceinte, et non des fondations d’un bâtiment intégré dans l’enceinte. L’A. estime que la région I, à l’endroit le plus élévé du sommet, correspondait au centre de la cité ancienne, avec les bâtiments majeurs, comme l’agora, le prytanée et surtout le temple de la divinité poliade. Et pour soutenir cette hypothèse, les données issues de la région II sont riches : les fondations du bâtiment mentionné ci-dessus ne permettent pas encore une interprétation finale, mais l’A. mentionne la trouvaille d’un décret du dème des Siphniens (Musée de Siphnos nr. 335). Le décret devait être dressé dans le sanctuaire d’Apollon Pythios et est gravé sur un bloc trapézoïdal qui constituait probablement une partie de la structure du temple ou d’un autre bâtiment du sanctuaire. Ainsi, l’existence d’un sanctuaire d’Apollon Pythios à Siphnos est assurée et l’exposition des décrets laisse penser qu’il s’agissait bien de la divinité poliade. Le rôle primordial du culte de ce dieu est démontré par l’offrande du fameux trésor des Siphniens à Delphes et par la représentation d’Apollon au revers des monnaies siphniennes durant le Ve s. av. J.-C. La construction du temple appartient à une phase de réaménagement du plateau N-O au cours de la 2e moitié du VIe s., lors de l’essor de la cité de Siphnos et de l’accès aux riches sources minières, qui créait la nécessité d’une administration centrale. Z. PAPADOPOULOU, « Νέα στοιχεία για την ακρόπολη του αρχαίου άστεως της Σίφνου », in Proceedings of the IIIrd International Siphnian Symposium, supra 09.42, p. 41-56.
111 09.44 – Siphnos, Potamos – XXI e Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Un habitant du Kastro a rendu au Service Archéologique un fragment de statuette en marbre du type d’Aphrodite, trouvé dans son champ dans la région Potamon (Seralia). La statuette est conservée au niveau des cuisses, et a été inventoriée sous le n° 265 au Musée de Siphnos. Z. PAPADOPOULOU, « Σίφνος. Περισυλλογή αρχαίων », AD 54 B2 (1999) [2006] p. 817. 112 09.45 – Ténos, Xobourgo – Université d’Athènes – Dans une partie de l’article (p. 430-436), l’A. traite du site de Xobourgo. Elle commente les abondantes pyrai, dans des périboles, qui ont été découvertes devant la façade de la partie E de l’enceinte cyclopéenne, à l’extérieur du porche et sur la terrasse inférieure. Ces pyrai funéraires du géométrique ancien au géométrique récent et orientalisant ont été victimes de l’extension de la ville vers l’E et de la construction hâtive de l’enceinte durant la 2e moitié du VIe s. Une eschara rectangulaire, à quatre pierres en schiste, appartient à la deuxième phase d’utilisation du péribole funéraire n° 5. Pour la première fois, une eschara est directement liée à un culte funéraire. Le complexe architectural exhumé par N. Kontoleon dans la partie SE de la ville a été identifié par lui comme un Thesmophorion. À cause de la présence des pithoi à reliefs de la fin du VIIIe et du VIIe siècle, le bâtiment a été introduit dans la bibliographie comme datant de la période géométrique et du haut archaïsme. Pourtant, aucune partie du complexe n’est aussi ancienne. L’espace du « Thesmophorion » connaît son organisation architecturale en même temps que la construction de l’enceinte archaïque, au VIe s. De la phase
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antérieure, dont ne subsistent que les grands pithoi à reliefs, l’A. rapproche l’eschara, qui serait alors le seul élément architectural du complexe datant d’avant le VIe s. av. J.- C., à savoir de la fin du Géométrique ancien. La première phase du culte dans la zone du « Thesmophorion » serait donc hypèthre, un phénomène très répandu dans le monde grec égéen, comme l’eschara pour les cultes de divinités chthoniennes. N. KOUROU, “Η Τήνος κατά την πρώιμη Εποχή του Σιδήρου”, in N.C. STAMBOLIDIS, A. YANNIKOURI (éds), Το Αιγαίο στην πρώιμη εποχή του Σιδήρου. Πρακτικά του Διεθνούς Συμποσίου, Ρόδος 1-4 Νοεμβρίου 2002, Athènes, 2004, p. 427-436. 113 – Université d’Athènes – Un article bien illustré de photos en couleur récapitule les travaux de recherche et de fouilles réalisées pendant la décennie 1995-2005 sur le site de Xobourgo. Un relevé architectural de l’aire sacrée sous l’enceinte archaïque est publié. L’enceinte est fondée sur une série de fosses et pyrai plus anciennes, une tombe à ciste, une eschara et d’autres constructions datant de l’âge du Fer. Le point central des activités cultuelles était l’eschara, un foyer rectangulaire formé de quatre pierres en schiste, qui contenait des os d’animaux et des fragments de vaisselle de cuisine et daté de la période géométrique. Le terminus ante quem est fourni par la céramique du géométrique récent, trouvée dans une couche au-dessus de la fosse. Plus à l’E, une construction rectangulaire, probablement un petit temple a été découvert. L’accès s’y fait de l’E et il disposait d’une bonne porte comme le révèle le seuil. À l’intérieur sont mentionnés des pyrai et un arrangement de l’espace autour d’une pierre centrale, une sorte de bétyle, probablement une table d’offrandes. Un dépôt de vases a été trouvé près du mur du fond, contenant des restes de grains d’orge. Le complexe est daté de la fin de la période géométrique au début du VIIe s. Encore plus à l’E, près du mur de soutènement de la terrasse supérieure, une autre construction avec une paire de pyrai a été trouvée. Les deux fosses étaient à l’origine creusées dans le rocher. En avant, une large pierre fonctionnait probablement comme table d’offrandes (un tas de coquillages, du type de murex truncullus, y a été trouvé). La céramique date du géométrique récent. Les petits objets comprennent des os d’animaux, des pesons en terre cuite, des objets en métal et nombreux vases manufacturés. La vaisselle fine est presque exclusivement parienne, avec peu des tessons attiques. Chaque pyrè était couverte d’un tumulus de pierres, chacun surmonté d’un caillou blanc dans un cas, noir dans l’autre. Après une période d’abandon, la zone a été de nouveau utilisée pour une autre paire de pyrai, traitées comme des monuments, comme le révèlent les murs d’enclos qui les entourent. Le rituel qui avait lieu ici est identique aux précédents : l’allumage d’un feu, la déposition d’offrandes, la consommation d’un repas sacrificiel. Le destinataire du culte n’est pas facile à identifier. Pourtant, une eschara comparable a été trouvée dans le complexe architectural reconnu comme Thesmophorion, quelques centaines de mètres à l’E. Un projet de restauration du complexe, exhumé dans les années cinquante par N. Kontoleon, a été réalisé. L’A. procède à une description de l’architecture et des caractéristiques de ce sanctuaire, en résumant les caractéristiques importantes. L’identification comme sanctuaire de Déméter, proposée par le fouilleur N. Kontoleon, est ici admise. Pour le détail, voir la notice précédente. N. KOUROU, « Ten Years of Archaeological Research at Xobourgo (Island of Tenos in the Cyclades) », AAIA Bulletin 3, p. 23-29. Voir aussi EAD., « The Dawn of images and Cultural Identity: The Case of Tenos », in Alba della città, alba delle immagini? Da una suggestione di Bruno d’Agostino, Tripodes 7 (2008), p. 63-90.
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114 09.46 – Théra, Episkope – XXIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Une fouille de sauvetage dans un champ à Kamari de Théra a mené à la localisation d’un F0 herôon d’Achille. Il s’agit d’un petit temenos archaïque en forme de pi, 6 B4 3,50 m, orienté N-O à S-E, où se trouve aussi l’entrée. Il fut identifié grâce à quinze tessons archaïques et classiques, inscrits de graffiti votifs, dont un assez complet pour conserver le nom d’Achille. Le n° 1 est le plus complexe, sinistroverse, inscrit sur la lèvre d’une coupe ionique, lu comme suit : Πορραίνον μὲ ἀνέθηκε Ἀχιλ[λ]εῖ. (pl. 63, 1-2) (cf. REG 2008, Bull Archéol., n° 357). C.I. SIGALAS †, A.P. MATTHAIOU, « Ενεπίγραφα όστρακα από το Ηρώον του Αχιλλέως στην Θήρα », ΗΟΡΟΣ 14-16 (2000-2003) [2003], p. 259-268. 115 09.47 – Théra, Sellada-Pilarou (Zeus Damatrios) – Dans une monographie vouée au culte de Zeus de la période archaïque à la période hellénistique, l’A. inclut le cas de Théra (chap. II.1.3.4, p. 82-85). Le travail repose sur le matériel publié et connu, mais il procède à une nouvelle interprétation des données. N. KREUTZ, Zeus und die griechische Poleis. Topographische und religionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen von archaischer bis in hellenistische Zeit, Rahden/Westfahlen, 2007.
116 09.48 – Théra, Sellada – XXIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Un sanctuaire qui fut localisé lors des fouilles allemandes en 1900 et intégré dans le plan topographique de la ville (C14) resta inédit et quasiment invisible. Il a de nouveau été investigué par les archéologues de l’Éphorie des Cyclades, dans le cadre de travaux de nettoyage. Un plan détaille est publié. Deux terres cuites archaïques avaient été les seuls objets publiés, une figurine féminine et un oiseau. Il s’agit d’un bâtiment rectangulaire orienté E-O, à quatre pièces dans la partie occidentale et un grand espace rectangulaire, probablement une cour (espace A), à l’E. Les pièces avaient été fouillées par les Allemands, mais la cour a été nettoyée récemment. Un banc bas court le long du mur S de la cour. L’A. donne les dimensions des salles et fournit une description détaillée de l’architecture. Une citerne occupe la partie N de la salle B. Les trouvailles sont peu nombreuses, s’agissant surtout de vases miniatures : aryballes, assiettes, cotyles, skyphoi, kylikes, œnochoés, phiales, pyxides, etc., certains fragments de vases usuels, comme des hydries, des fragments de figurines, des perles en faïence, du cristal de roche, des fragments d’œufs d’autruche, peu d’objets en bronze, fragments de tablettes votives en calcaire. Ils sont dispersés dans toutes les pièces, un dépôt votif ayant été trouvé dans la partie S-O de la cour. Les tessons de l’antiquité tardive proviennent des couches de destruction qui recouvraient le bâtiment. Nombreux sont les os d’animaux, dont la majorité semble appartenir à des porcins. Le tout est sans doute un sanctuaire. Plusieurs traits, comme la position à proximité de la ville, près des cimetières et des axes routiers, la présence d’une citerne et les nombreux ossements de porcs invitent à l’attribuer à Déméter. M. EFSTATHIOU, « Θήρα. Κτίριο Σελλάδας », AD 53, Β 3 (1998) [2004], Χρονικά, p. 805-808. 117 09.49 – Théra, Sellada (Apollon Karneios) – XXIe Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – Les A. offrent un article détaillé et richement illustré sur le sanctuaire d’Apollon Karneios dans la ville de Théra. Sanctuaire fouillé par Gaertringer en 1896, identifié épigraphiquement, il a été publié lors de la première phase des investigations allemandes. Un siècle plus tard, des travaux d’aménagement et de nettoyage du site, et la préparation d’un programme de conservation et mise en valeur du site de la part de l’Éphorie des Cyclades ont mené les A. à publier quelques nouvelles observations. Il
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n’est pas question du culte, mais une meilleure compréhension du bâtiment contribuera à l’étude des bâtiments sacrés archaïques dans les Cyclades doriennes. Parmi ces observations interprétatives s’intègre aussi une nouvelle lecture proposée du plan du temple du VIIe s. Un plan détaillé du sanctuaire est publié. La description de l’architecture conservée est exhaustive. D’intéressants commentaires sont faits sur le sol du temple lui-même. Dans la partie occidentale du mur S, conservé sur l’hauteur où il était creusé dans le rocher, s’observe un creux percé verticalement dans le rocher. Une sorte de coque se forme autour. Dans l’axe de cette formation, on observe un percement dans le sol du temple, incliné vers l’intérieur. La destination de tels creusements reste à interpréter. De nouvelles observations sont faites sur la toiture du temple. Un défoncement dans le rocher, dans l’axe du mur S du temple, lié à un fin canal creusé dans le roche et qui continue jusqu’à l’angle N-O de la cour, indiquent qu’il s’agit d’un système de récupération des eaux de pluie vers la citerne. Ainsi, un toit horizontal est proposé pour le temple, et aussi pour le vestibule au S. L’espace à l’O du temple doit avoir été sans toiture, pour faciliter l’éclairage de l’intérieur du temple. M. EFSTATHIOU, I. BITIS, « Το ιερό του Απόλλωνα Καρνείου στην αρχαία Θήρα », in STAMBOLIDIS, supra 09.27, p. 117-126.
118 09.50 – Théra, Sellada (Aphrodite) – Université de Vienne, XXI e Éphorie des antiquités préhistoriques et classiques – L’A. publie un bilan de dix-huit scarabées égyptiens ou égyptianisants archaïques (Aegyptiaca) du VIIIe/VIIe s. av. J.-C., issus des fouilles de C. Sigalas dans le sanctuaire d’Aphrodite. Le sanctuaire était en fonction de la période sub-géométrique à la période impériale. Les objets proviennent des couches anciennes, sous les sols du sanctuaire tardif (Ier-IIe s. ap. J.-C.), qui contenaient une quantité importante de matériel votif de la phase ancienne, surtout des petits objets en relation directe avec l’habillement et la toilette féminine. Le grand nombre des lécythes chypriotes et de petits objets de provenance syro-palestinienne témoignent des contacts de Théra avec le Proche-Orient. Les Aegyptiaca sont organisés en trois groupes : des originaux égyptiens, des sceaux-amulettes de provenance mixte (Égypte, Palestine, Syrie, Phénicie) et des vases en faïence (égyptiens ou rhodiens archaïques). Le commerce eubéen est sans doute aussi concerné par cette diffusion que le commerce phénicien. Les dieux égyptiens en question n’ont pas de relation avec le sanctuaire, mais ils correspondent avec précision à une région géographique du Nil et leurs caractéristiques étaient bien comprises en dehors l’Égypte. Comme ces amulettes sont censées servir dans le domaine de la fertilité féminine et de la protection du petit enfant, ils sont surtout trouvés dans des tombes de femmes et d’enfants ou dans les dépôts votifs de divinités féminines. Cf. aussi AD 53, B3 (1998) [2004], p. 808-809. Le sanctuaire est identifié par un graffito sur le pied d’une kylix attique (ΑΦΡΟΔΙΤΑΣ). Il est utilisé de la fin du VIIIe s. av. J.-C. au VIIe-VIIIe ap. J.-C. Deux phases du sanctuaire sont identifiées, l’ancienne et un remaniement au IIe-Ier s. après J.-C. Le matériel votif de l’ancienne phase a été enfoui sous les nouveaux sols, d’un coup. Les objets sont très nombreux, ca 700 aryballes et 400 bijoux ou fragments. Une inscription sur une pierre réutilisée comme élément de la nouvelle porte d’entrée pourrait témoigner d’un aspect de la divinité vénérée. L’A. propose d’attribuer le sanctuaire d’Ilithyie, attesté épigraphiquement mais non identifié, au même sanctuaire d’Aphrodite, sur la base de figurines assises de style dédalique. G. HÖLBL, « Die Aegyptiaca von Aphroditetempel auf Thera », MDAI(A) 121 (2006), p. 73-103.
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[10. Crète] 11. Chypre (Thierry Petit)
119 11.00 – Généralités
120 – Ces actes de colloque reprennent une série de contributions qui touchent à des questions d’archéologie religieuse (amulettes protectrices, rôle des instruments de musique, brûle-parfums, ex-voto). V. KARAGEORGHIS, H. MATTHÄUS, S. ROGGE (éds), Cyprus: Religion and Society. From the Late Bronze Age to the End of the Archaic Period (Proceeding of an International Symposium on Cypriot Archaeology, Erlangen, July 2004), Möhnesee-Wamel, 2005.
121 – Ces actes de colloque reprennent une série de contributions qui étudient des ex-voto figurés et l’iconographie divine sur les monnaies. S. FOURRIER, G. GRIVAUD (éds), Identités croisées en milieu méditerranéen : le cas de Chypre (Antiquité – Moyen Âge), Rouen, 2006.
122 – Apparition au Ve s. des dieux et déesses du panthéon grec : Athéna, Zeus et Apollon, Héraclès; sur les monnaies d’or, leurs représentations sont de style grec. Au cours du IVe s., on observe l’abandon des thèmes animaliers traditionnels au profit des divinités grecques comme Aphrodite, Athéna, Apollon et Zeus. En revanche, ce qui était tenu pour une Aphrodite sur certaines monnaies de Pnytagoras, de Nikokréon et de Ménélas, n’est rien d’autre qu’une effigie royale [cf. aussi Markou dans FOURRIER et GRIVAUD 2006, supra]. A. MARKOU, « L’originalité chypriote à travers l’iconographie des monnaies d’or du IVe siècle avant J.-C. », in P. FLOURENZTOS (éd.), From Evagoras I to the Ptolemies. The Transition from the Classical to the Hellenistic Period in Cyprus (Nicosia 29-30 November 2002), Nicosie, 2007, p. 283-296.
123 – En dépit d’identifications tardives, nous n’avons pas de preuve que les dieux grecs étaient révérés dans l’île avant l’époque classique. À côté de ceux-ci, on observe l’introduction de divinités orientales, et d’images de divinités égyptiennes. Mentions des diverses assimilations (p. 164). Sous les Ptolémées, prééminence des divinités grecques, mais subsistent des divinités aux appellations locales (p. 165-167). D’autres divinités égyptiennes font encore leur apparition (p. 168-170). A. ANASTASSIADES, « A Divine Palimpsest: Cults from Classical to Hellenistic Cyprus », ibid., p. 161-172.
124 – Les représentations de divinités sur des trônes flanqués de béliers en accoudoirs correspondraient à des trônes bien réels dont les différents types sont étudiés. Le dieu est-il Zeus-Ammon ou Baal-Hammon ? Le bélier en tout cas est associé au culte, et peut être tenu pour un attribut divin [cf. infra 11.03 : Counts]. J. COENAERTS, M. SAMAES, « The Ram Throne: A True Type of Cypriot Furniture? », RDAC (2006), p. 239-258.
125 – Le bloc quadrangulaire en calcaire découvert à Vitsada et datant de l’époque hellénistique est tenu pour un autel ou une base. Sa décoration complexe en relief
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montre une assemblée des dieux assistant à l’enlèvement de Perséphone. On y voit Hermès, Athéna, Hadès (?). L.W. SORENSEN, « Comments on the Vitsada “Altar” », CCEC, 35 (2005), p. 127-136.
126 – Plusieurs vases destinés à la fabrication des parfums sont ornés de figures anthropomorphiques. Ces dernières ont-elles une signification religieuse ? M.R. BELGIORNO, « L’isola di Afrodite e i suoi profumi vecchi di quattromila anni »,AA.VV. I profumi di Afrodite e il segreto dell’olio. Scoperte archeologiche a Cipro (Catalogue d’exposition), Rome, 2007, p. 33-60.
127 – Étude exhaustive de cette production de style cypriote d’Égypte répandue dans toute la Méditerranée orientale. La grande majorité sont des objets votifs. L’A. tente d’assigner les types à des divinités spécifiques de Naucratis et de déterminer la qualité des dédicants. G. NICK, Zypro-ionische Kleinplastik aus Kalkstein und Alabaster, Bad Langensalza, 2006 (Archäologische Studien zu Naukratis, 1).
128 – Présentation assez générale du devenir de la figure bovine sur l’île, illustrée notamment par une applique murale avec deux bucranes d’époque géométrique, et le fameux modèle de sanctuaire de Vounous. Une courte bibliographie clôt la contribution. S. HADJISAVVAS, « The Bull in Ancient Cyprus », in The Bull in the Mediterranean World. Myths and Cults (Catalogue d’exposition. Barcelone et Athènes), s.l., 2003, p. 112-117.
129 – L’A. indique que la période romaine se situe du point de vue de la statuaire et de son usage dans le prolongement, non seulement de l’époque hellénistique (lagide), mais aussi classique et même archaïque (p. 82). Des statues divines (Apollon, Vénus, Minerve, Diane, Bacchus, Némésis, Esculape, Hygie, Hercule) proviennent également de contextes urbains et/ou civiques, comme les gymnases, les théâtres et les nymphées (p. 88-97), ou de sanctuaires urbains. Plusieurs statues d’empereurs découvertes dans différentes cités (Néapaphos, Soloi, Kition, Lapéthos) doivent renvoyer à un culte impérial puisque plusieurs inscriptions mentionnent des prêtres du culte impérial (p. 96). ). Une grande majorité d’entre elles cependant (272 sur 415 dont le contexte est connu : p. 97) proviennent de sanctuaires isolés (p. 83; 97-105) : Idalion, Golgoi, Arsos, sanctuaire de Cholades à Soloi, d’Apollon Hylates à Kourion. En dépit d’une apparente permanence, il est difficile de déterminer la nature des continuités et ruptures entre l’époque hellénistique et romaine (p. 98). À propos des temple boys, l’A. résume les trois interprétations possibles (p. 102-103). Aux p. 104-105 sont discutées les trouvailles du sanctuaire de Zeus Labranios à Phasoula. Plusieurs statues divines proviennent aussi de la « sphère privée » (p. 110-122). J.FEJFER, « Sculpture in Roman Cyprus », in L. WRIEDT SØRENSEN et K. WINTHER JACOBSEN (éds), Panayia Ematousa II, Aarhus, 2006, p. 81-123.
130 – Étude du motif du sphinx associé à l’Arbre-de-la-Vie. Signification eschatologique du motif qui correspond au récit biblique de Genèse, 3. Les sphinx ne sont rien d’autre que les « Chérubins » qui gardent le chemin vers l’Arbre. Évocation de certains exemples cypriotes, où les sphinx apparaissent dans le champ symbolique de la déesse comme garant de la survie, notamment vis à vis du roi. Th. PETIT, « Œdipe et le chérubin », Kernos, 19 (2006), p. 319-342.
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131 11.01 – Nicosie – Continuité des cultes à cet endroit depuis l’époque archaïque jusqu’à la fin de l’époque hellénistique : découverte de figurines masculines et féminines : femmes tenant un enfant, se tenant les seins, ou sculptures associées au culte d’Astarté, femme jouant du tambourin, des joueurs de flûte, des modèles de sanctuaires, des sphinx en calcaire peint, des figurines d’oiseaux, la représentation d’un Bès, des chevaux, des cavaliers, des chars, des taureaux, des temple boys; à l’époque hellénistique, des figurines de type Tanagra; une inscription récemment découverte est une dédicace à Arsinoé Philadelphe (p. 133-136). D. PILIDES, « The Hill of Agios Georgios, Nicosia: From Ledroi to Levkoton? », in FLOURENZTOS (éd.), supra 11.00, p. 131-144.
132 – Ces fouilles sur la colline d’Agios Georgios ont exhumé nombre d’artefacts qui attestent la présence d’un sanctuaire dans les environs : notamment des figurines et des statuettes (p. 160-161). D. PILIDES, « Potters, Weavers and Sanctuary Dedications. Possible Evidence from the Hill of Agios Georgios in the Quest for Territorial Boudaries », in Actes du colloque international « Frontières et territoires au centre de Chypre : la région d’Idalion de l’Antiquité au XIXe siècle » = CCEC, 34 (2004), p. 155-172.
133 – Rapport sur la même fouille d’Agios Georgios-PA-SY-DY, dans la rue Skyrou, dans une fosse cinq figurines en terre cuite fragmentaire (personnages masculins et un char), et du reste de matériel cultuel (ossements, etc.). P. FLOURENTZOS, « Chronique des fouilles et découvertes archéologiques à Chypre en 2005 », BCH, 130 (2006), sous presse.
134 11.02 – Kafizin – Un nouveau vase inscrit (col d’amphore) porte une dédicace à une nymphe et à un « bon génie »; il est en outre décoré de plusieurs têtes barbues et d’arbres. A. HERMARY, « Un nouveau vase inscrit de Kafizin », CCEC, 36 (2006), p. 63-72.
135 11.03 – Athiénou-Malloura– Les A. fondent leur réflexion sur la récente découverte dans le sanctuaire rural d’Athienou-Malloura d’un objet que l’on peut ranger dans la catégorie dite des « appliques-murales » (mais celle-ci est étrange : outre son iconographie particulière, elle est en calcaire, alors que la plupart des exemplaires connus sont en terre cuite) : elle montre sous un trou de suspension trois « Bès » dans l’attitude du smiting god, disposés de manière héraldique et affectant chacun la position du Knielauf; dessous se trouve un petit réceptacle, habituel sur ce genre d’objet, lequel est flanqué de deux lions couchés. 95 % des offrandes de ce sanctuaire renvoient à une divinité masculine, ce qui incite à y voir le sanctuaire d’un dieu. Les A. concluent que le caractère malléable des représentations de Bès font de cette figure an ideal manifestation of the principal male divinity in Cyprus [pour une conclusion similaire, voir la notice suivante et 11.09 : PETIT, dans FOURRIER, GRIVAUD, supra 11.00; CCEC, 37].
D.B. COUNTS, M.K. TOUMAZOU, « New Lights on the Iconography of Bes in Archaic Cyprus », in C.C. MATTUSCH et al. (éds), Common Ground: Archaeology, Art, Science, and Humanities (Proceedings of the XVIth Internationl Congress of Classical Archaeology, Boston, August 23-26, 2003), Oxford, 2006, p. 598-602.
136 – Étude en particulier des thymiatèria en calcaire montrant un dieu à cornes de bélier appelé Zeus-Ammon; lequel présente des points communs avec un Héraclès cypriote et
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Pan; le dieu apparaît aussi sous la forme du potnios (sic) thérôn. Il s’agirait de différentes représentations d’une même divinité [voir la notice précédente]. D. COUNTS, « Art and Religion in the Cypriot Mesaoria. The View from Athienou- Malloura », CCEC 34 (2004), p. 173-190.
137 11.04 – Golgoi– Selon l’A., Golgoi n’aurait pas constitué une entité indépendante à l’époque des royaumes. Évocation d’un certain nombre de sanctuaires ruraux et de leurs offrandes : Melousha, Trémithous, Arsos, Ayios Photios, Kakoskala, Louroujina, Malloura, Potamia, Troulli. Évocation aussi de thiases mentionnés dans des dédicaces. A. HERMARY, « Autour de Golgoi : les cités de la Mesaoria à l’époque hellénistique et sous l’Empire », CCEC 34 (2004), p. 47-68.
138 – Voir aussi infra 11.09 : SCHOLLMEYER, dans STYLIANOU, SCHOLLMEYER (2007).
139 11.05 – Idalion– Étude fondée sur la grande plastique découverte en 1868-1869 dans le sanctuaire d’Apollon à Idalion, en particulier le buste C154, qui appartiendrait à un ensemble princier dédié par les nouveaux maîtres kitiens vers le milieu du Ve s.av. J.-C. A . HERMARY, « Les derniers temps du royaume d’Idalion et son annexion par Kition. Le témoignage des sculptures », CCEC 35 (2005), p. 99-126.
140 – Au S de la ville basse, dans ce que l’on prenait encore pour le temple d’Aphrodite, découverte d’une figurine d’une divinité masculine; il est conclu que le temple devait être dédié à un couple divin, symbolisé par « deux pierres, posées sur deux cavités remplies de cendres ». Les autels du sanctuaire sont de type oriental. Dans d’autres bâtiments, découvertes de statuettes féminines en pierre et de figurines en terre cuite. P. FLOURENTZOS, « Chronique des fouilles et découvertes archéologiques à Chypre en 2005 », BCH, 130 (2006), sous presse1.
141 – Une statuette de kourotrophe assise provenant d’Idalion et datée entre 500 et 425.
G. KOINER, « Aphrodite Kourotrophos in den Archäologischen Sammlungen der Universität Graz. Vierzig und eine Statuette oder Ein versprengtes Mitglied der “Grazer Gruppe“ », in E. CHRISTOF et al. (éds), ΠΟΤΝΙΑ ΘΗΡΩΝ. Festschrift für Gerda Schwarz zum 65. Geburtstag, Vienne, 2007, p. 173-180.
142 11.06 – Tamassos– Indications sur la découverte d’un temple-boy près de l’autel d’Aphrodite à Tamassos. Présentation de neuf temple-boys fragmentaires découverts par M. Ohnefalsch-Richter dans les sanctuaires d’Aphrodite et de Cybèle, mais aussi d’Apollon-Reshef-Alasiotas, à Tamassos. Hypothèse qu’il pourrait s’agir de prostitués sacrés. Discussions sur l’âge de ces enfants et sur leur nature (évocation de la prostitution sacrée, des mythes qui semblent correspondre à cette pratique, des inscriptions qui y sont parfois gravées). H.-G. BUCHHOLZ, W. WAMSER-KRASZNAI, « Tempelknaben in Tamassos », RDAC (2007), p. 229-256.
143 – Mention du sanctuaire archaïque et classique d’Aghios Mnason non loin de Tamassos.
A.B. KNAPP et M. GIVEN, « Social Landscapes and Social Space: the Sydney Cyprus Survey Project », in M. IACOVOU (éd.), Archaeological Field Survey in Cyprus. Past History, Future Potential (Proceedings of the Conference held by the Archaeological Research Unit of the University of Cyprus, 1-2 December 2000), Athènes, 2004, p. 77-93, spéc. p. 83.
144 11.07 – Kalavassos- Vavla-Kapsalaes – Mention du sanctuaire archaïque de Vavla- Kapsalaes, près de Kalavassos.
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I.A. TODD, « Field Survey in the Vassilikos Valley », in IACOVOU, supra 11.06, p. 43-54, spéc. p. 43.
145 11.08 – Limassol – Évocation entre autres du sanctuaire de Limassol-Kommissariato.
L. ALPE, « Les groupes ethniques de Limassol dans l’Antiquité », in FOURRIER, GRIVAUD, supra 11.00, p. 11-35, spéc. p. 21-22.
146 – Ce petit sanctuaire, publié en 1977, montre une coroplastie proche à la fois des types phéniciens de l’E, de ceux de l’O et des types locaux. Il s’agit donc sans doute d’un sanctuaire indigène qui associe des éléments phéniciens, par ailleurs bien attestés dans la cité. Depuis la découverte et la publication princeps, d’autres trouvailles dans l’agglomération de Limassol ont confirmé cette forte influence phénicienne. L. ALPE, « La question du sanctuaire de Limassol-Kommissariato. Modalités de la présence phénicienne dans le royaume d’Amathonte », CCEC 37 (2007), p. 265-282.
147 11.09 – Amathonte – Étude de ces deux pièces majeures de l’art cypriote. Analyse essentiellement stylistique dans le cas du sarcophage d’Amathonte. Avec une prépondérance des influences cypriotes. Mentions d’une possible interprétation eschatologique de la scène du défilé de chars (P. Schollmeyer ignore cependant presque toute la bibliographie récente en langue française, cf. infra ). Les deux dates sont remontées (510-490 pour Amathonte; 1er quart du Ve s. pour Golgoi).
A. STYLIANOU, in A. STYLIANOU, P. SCHOLLMEYER, Dynastensarkophage mit szenischen Reliefs aus Byblos und Zypern Teil 2: Der Sarkophag aus Amathous al Beispiel kontaktinduzierten Wandels (Stylianou), Der Sarkophag aus Golgoi. Zur Grabreprasentation eines zyprischen Stadtkonigs (Schollmeyer), Mayence, 2007.
148 – Étude de la scène sculptée sur la partie supérieure d’un chapiteau hathorique découvert à Amathonte : un kouros maîtrisant deux « Pégases » cabrés. Le motif originaire du Proche-Orient et apparenté à l’iconographie péloponnésienne serait une des formes que peut revêtir le Grand Dieu de la cité. A. CARBILLET, « Hathor et le “Maître des Pégases” à Amathonte de Chypre », Ktema 33 (2008), p. 299-308.
149 – Premier volume de la publication des fouilles de l’École française d’Athènes au grand sanctuaire d’Aphrodite sur le sommet de l’acropole de la ville. De sa fondation dans le courant du VIIIe s. av. J.-C. jusqu’à la construction du premier grand temple au Ier s. ap. J.-C. Étude de l’organisation spatiale du sanctuaire, des sacrifices, des pratiques cultuelles (fête des moissons), du matériel votif. Témoignages littéraires et épigraphiques, histoire des découvertes. De long développements sont consacrés au matériel archaïque, surtout céramique. Sont discutés, dans le chapitre 4, la nature et la forme des images de culte, les ex-voto de différents types et matières. Le chapitre 5 est consacré aux études ostéologiques et à la nature des sacrifices. S. FOURRIER, A. HERMARY, Amathonte VI. Le sanctuaire d’Aphrodite des origines au début de l’époque impériale, Paris, 2006 (Études chypriotes, 17).
150 – Le sarcophage présente, sous les traits des « Bès » et des « Astartés » qui ornent les deux petits cotés du sarcophage, la dyade locale : le Dieu-Roi et la Grande Déesse. Les deux longs côtés montrent une scène de défilé de chars qui est interprétée comme la représentation de l’apothéose du roi qui y fut inhumé. Examen de la personnalité complexe du dieu masculin qui présentent des traits qui l’apparentent à Dionysos, Héraclès, Milqart, Osiris, Héphaistos [cf. 11.03 : Counts et Toumazou (2006); Counts
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(2004)]. En outre l’œuvre montre un certains nombre de traits empruntés à l’Égypte, dont le décor d’arrière-plan « en écailles ». Th. PETIT, « MALIKA : l’identité composite du Dieu-Roi d’Amathonte sur le sarcophage de New York », in FOURRIER, GRIVAUD, supra 11.00, p. 63-99.
151 – Cette grande sculpture (4,20 m de haut) fut longtemps datée de l’époque romaine. Cette datation est remise en question par l’A. qui propose de la placer dans la seconde moitié du IVe s. ou au début du IIIe s. Les récentes découvertes sur l’agora d’Amathonte ont permis de comprendre qu’un second Bès de même taille devait être présent à proximité, ce qui incite à conclure que les deux colosses flanquaient l’entrée d’un sanctuaire [plutôt d’époque archaïque selon Tassignon; voir aussi Kernos 19, p. 426 : 11.07]. A. HERMARY, « Amathonte classique et hellénistique : la question du Bès colossal de l’agora », in FLOURENZTOS, supra 11.00, p. 81-92.
152 – Évocation du culte et des représentations (sous la forme des Bès) d’Héraclès-Milqart à Amathonte (p. 98). Th. PETIT, « The Hellenization of Amathus in the 4th century B.C. », ibid., p. 93-114.
153 – À propos du modèle de bateau dit « modèle Kakoulli » de la collection Pierides. Étude de cette production très spécifique de la coroplastie cypriote, en particulier d’Amathonte. Le parallèle avec la navigation céleste égyptienne semble le mieux à même d’expliquer sa présence dans les tombes. La scène à la poupe du modèle Kakoulli serait un sacrifice exécuté par le roi (coiffé de la mitra). Il s’agirait d’un sacrifice à une divinité euploia (Aphrodite Euploia ?) A. CARBILLET, « Cérémonies autour du thème de la navigation à Amathonte », CCEC 35 (2005), p. 77-88.
154 – Un inscription du début de l’époque hellénistique d’Amathonte mentionne un culte dédié à Zeus Meilichios. La nature chthonienne de ce dieu grec correspond à celle de l’Héraclès local, connu sous le nom de Malika, qui apparaît dans l’imagerie locale sous la forme de Bès. Les deux termes sont sans doute de même étymologie. Th. PETIT, « Malika, Zeus Meilichios et Zeus Xenios à Amathonte de Chypre », CCEC 37 (2007), p. 283-298.
155 – Au cours des récentes campagnes de fouille dans la ville basse d’Amathonte, des indices de l’existence d’un important temple gréco-romain ont été relevés : à côté d’éléments architecturaux (fragments d’architrave, de colonnes, de chapiteau dorique), on observe une dédicace à Arsinoé, sœur et épouse de Ptolémée II Philadelphe. À ce culte aurait succédé celui d’Isis et Horus-Harpocrate, conclusion que l’A. déduit de la présence de fragments d’une statue d’un Harpocrate avec serpent. P. FLOURENTZOS, « An Unknown Graeco-Roman Temple from the Lower City of Amathous », CCEC 37 (2007), p. 299-306.
156 – L’extension de la fouille des magasins du palais a révélé, dans l’épais remblai qui recouvrait toute la zone, la présence abondante de statuettes en calcaire et de figurines en terre cuite, dont certaines de types inconnus : un dieu assis avec, sculptés sur les côtés du siège, des bovidés (fig. 18); une protomé léonine, un quadrige de félins, et aussi une belle tête féminine (fig. 15). B. BLANDIN, Th. PETIT, I. TASSIGNON, « Rapport sur les travaux de l’École française d’Athènes à Amathonte. Le Palais », BCH 128-129 (2004-2005), p. 1024-1033.
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157 – Dans des sondages profonds menés sous les niveaux hellénistiques et romains, du matériel cultuel archaïque, dont des « plaquettes d’Astarté » (fig. 26). J.-P. PRÊTE, I. TASSIGNON, T. KOZELJ, M. WUCH-KOZELJ, « Rapport sur les travaux de l’École française d’Athènes à Amathonte. L’agora », BCH 128-129 (2004-2005), p. 1034-1040.
158 – L’édifice 16 pourrait être un temple (à Aphrodite, p. 1041-1046 cf. infra) : avec découverte d’une figurine féminine (fig. 34) et d’un graffito représentant un temple tétrastyle (fig. 35). À proximité, découverte de matériel figuré archaïque : fragment d’une statue de korè (fig. 43) et fragments de sphinx. Dans la zone 3, une statuette fragmentaire d’un conducteur de char (fig. 48). Il est conclu à la présence voisine d’un lieu de culte (p. 1067). P. AUPERT, P. LERICHE, Cl. BALANDIER, T. KOZELJ, « Rapport sur les travaux de l’École française d’Athènes à Amathonte. La muraille », BCH 128-129 (2004-2005), p. 1041-1071.
159 – À propos d’une nouvelle dédicace à Aphrodite Kypria découverte près de la porte N du rempart de la ville; mention du sanctuaire « dans les stèles » supposé par Mitford. En réalité, il s’agirait de bornes qui délimitaient un sanctuaire au pied d’une terrasse. Le sanctuaire aurait été établi vers le milieu du IIe s. av. J.-C. et restauré à l’époque de Titus. P. AUPERT, « Nouveaux documents sur le culte d’Aphrodite à Amathonte, I. Aphrodite, l’empereur Titus et le hiéron dans les stèles : un nouveau sanctuaire amathousien d’Aphrodite. Texte et illustrations ? », BCH 130 (2006), p. 83-99.
160 – Considération sur la tête féminine en marbre découverte lors des fouilles du rempart N (cf. les notices ci-dessus), datée par l’A. de la 2e moitié du IIe s. av. J.-C., et provenant sans doute du sanctuaire mentionné dans l’inscription évoquée supra. Elle représenterait donc l’Aphrodite Kypria. A. HERMARY, « Nouveaux documents sur le culte d’Aphrodite à Amathonte, II. La tête en marbre : Aphrodite Kypria ? », BCH, 130 (2006), p. 101-115.
161 – Parenté entre Héraclès Dactyle, Héphaïstos et les Bès. Pygmalion (roi « haut comme le poing ») est le parèdre de la Grande Déesse et renvoie à un dieu-nain proprement cypriote; en particulier à Amathonte où le dieu-nain, sous la forme des Bès, est particulièrement présent (spéc. p. 274-276). I. TASSIGNON, « Dieux nains de Grèce et d’ailleurs », Ktema 33 (2008), p. 271-279.
162 – La « course agenouillée » des Bès du sarcophage d’Amathonte ou d’autres représentations cypriotes et amathousiennes en particulier n’est rien d’autre que l’expression du nanisme du dieu. Examen des rapports qu’il entretient avec Héraclès (dont l’Hérakliskos tueur de serpent) et Héphaïstos. Évocation héracléenne aussi dans les représentations des temple-boys. Th. PETIT, « La course agenouillée de l’Héraclès cypriote », Ktema 32 (2007), p. 73-80.
163 11.10 – Kourion – À partir des trouvailles du sanctuaire d’Aghios Therapon-Silithkia, dont les trouvailles sont pour la plupart inédites, l’A. réexamine l’ensemble des sanctuaires ruraux du territoire de Kourion, qui sont en même temps des sanctuaires de frontières, et permettent ainsi une meilleure définition des limites du royaume, notamment de sa frontière avec celui d’Amathonte. Il s’agit, outre de celui d’Agios Therapon-Silithkia déjà cité, des sanctuaires de Limnatis, d’Anogyra et de Phassouri, qui présentent des types plastiques proprement kouriens.
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S. FOURRIER, « Sanctuaires du territoire de Kourion », CCEC 36 (2006), p. 9-22.
164 11.12 – Paphos – Rantidi – Sur le site de Lingrin tou Digeni, en bordure E de la grande plaine fertile de Paphos, fut révélée l’existence d’un sanctuaire qui fut considéré comme le plus riche en trouvailles figurées de toute l’île. Zahn y fit des fouilles et découvrit 138 inscriptions et 2300 figurines et statues, ainsi que les substructures de six édifices; des campagnes ultérieures livrèrent encore quantité de statuettes et de statues de taille humaine ou colossale. La plupart provenait d’un bothros qui se situe sur le col en contrebas du site. [En réalité, l’exploration récente de cet endroit, sous la direction d’E. Raptou, a révélé qu’il s’agit bien du (d’un ?) sanctuaire : cf. notre prochaine chronique]. Les types sont très variables et sont particulièrement intéressants par les détails qu’ils donnent des vêtements alors portés, sur les coiffures, des ex-voto à caractère érotique, des « cornes de consécration », etc. G.B. BAZEMORE, « The Rantidi Forest Excavations Preliminary Report 1996-2007 », RDAC (2007), p. 175-192.
165 11.13 – Paphos– Dinos archaïque peint dont les représentations évoquent les figurines de la déesse « aux bras levé » importée de Crète à Chypre au XIe s.
P. FLOURENTZOS, « A unique Iron Age Pictorial Dinos from Pafos », RDAC (2006), p. 169-171.
166 – Brève évocation du sanctuaire d’Aphrodite au IVe s. (p. 24-26).
Fr.G. MAIER, « From Regional Centre to Sanctuary Town: Palaipaphos in the Late Classical and Early Hellenistic Period », in FLOURENZTOS, supra 11.00, p. 17-33.
167 11.14 – Geronisos – Découvertes sur l’île de Geronisos de quinze amulettes égyptisantes, qui datent de l’époque ptolémaïque, et dont la forme évoque celles représentées sur les statuettes de temple boys, offrande caractéristique des sanctuaires d’Apollon. L’iconographie est liée au royaume lagide. Découverte d’un ostrakon portant le nom d’Apollon (mais qui pourrait être l’abréviation d’Apollonios : fig. 34). Ces amulettes seraient en rapport avec l’administration lagide dans l’île. Le pouvoir aurait établi ce petit sanctuaire vers la fin de l’époque lagide pour placer les petits garçons sous la protection d’Apollon [cf. les autres notices de cette rubrique]. J. BRETON CONNELLY, D. PLANTZOS, « Stamp-seals from Geronisos and their Context », RDAC (2006), p. 263-293.
168 – Sanctuaire insulaire d’époque hellénistique dont l’acmè se situe au Ier s. av. J.-C. Traces abondantes de banquet et d’activités culinaires. (spéc. p. 168-173); présence abondante d’amulettes (voir la notice ci-dessus) : fig. 37-41). Hypothèse selon laquelle le sanctuaire accueillait des jeunes enfants pour des rites de passage (p. 175) [cf. les autres notices de cette rubrique]. J. BRETON CONNELLY, « Excavations on Geronisos Island: Second Report, The Central South Complex », RDAC (2005), p. 149-182; EAD., « Ptolemaic Sunset: Boys’ Rites of Passage on Late Hellenistic Geronisos », in FLOURENZTOS (éd.), supra 11.00, p. 35-51.
169 – Les fouilles américaines de l’île de Geronisos ont dégagé des pièces qui appartenaient au sanctuaire (sans doute Apollon) où les pèlerins banquetaient. Le matériel date des années c. 80-30. P. FLOURENTZOS, « Chronique des fouilles et découvertes archéologiques à Chypre en 2005 », BCH 130 (2006), sous presse.
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170 11.15 – Marion – L’A. évoque certaines offrandes funéraires et suppose l’existence de rites de libation et d’autres rites funéraires dans les tombes fouillées par la mission suédoise (spéc. p. 194-195). K. NYS, « The Swedish Cyprus Expedition at Marion: A Reassessment of the Tomb-Fields at Kaparka and Evrethades », in Finds and Results from the Swedish Cyprus Expedition 1927-1931: A Gender Perspective, Stockholm, 2009 (Medelhavsmuseet. Focus on the Mediterranean, 5), p. 187-197.
171 – Un fragment de lit funéraire en terre cuite, orné de bas-reliefs, est mis en rapport avec le culte de Zeus Velchanos par son inventeur. Un autre fragment est censé avoir été trouvé à Salamine. V. KARAGEORGHIS, « Note on a Terracotta Funerary Couch from Marion », RDAC (2006), p. 259-262.
172 11.16 – Kition – Évocation du sanctuaire de Melqart fondé au IXe s. au lieu-dit « Bamboula », des indices d’un culte dédié à Astarté (p. 54), des cultes d’Aphrodite- Astarté, Héraclès-Melqart, Eshmun et de cultes médicaux associés à la protection des enfants, reconnaissables à la présence de temple boys (p. 57-58); transformation du culte au IIIe s. (p. 60).
M. YON, « Life and Death of a Military Port: Kition 4th-3th cent. B.C. (Political Reality and Cultural Impact) », in FLOURENZTOS, supra 11.00, p. 53-66.
173 11.17 – Larnaca –Panayia Ematousa – Publication des fouilles d’un site d’habitat d’époque hellénistique et romaine dans le district de Larnaca. Dans diverses fosses, mêlés à du matériel d’époque archaïque, furent découverts une vingtaine de fragments de figurines, la plupart modelées, quelques-unes moulées : chevaux, cavaliers, taureau, oiseaux, proue de bateau, femme tenant un tympanon. L. WRIEDT SØRENSEN, « Terracotta Figurines », in L. WRIEDT SØRENSEN et K. WINTHER JACOBSEN (eds), Panayia Ematousa I, Aarhus, 2006, p. 355-357.
12. Asie Mineure (partim) (Isabelle Tassignon)
Commagène
174 12.01 – Dolichè (Dülük Baba Tepesi) – Université de Münster – Les fouilles réalisées en 2004 et 2005 permettent de cerner les grandes phases du sanctuaire de Jupiter Dolichenus. Plusieurs objets cultuels (perles, amulettes, tête d’une statue en bronze d’Osiris, fibules et sceaux) permettent de dater les premières phases de ce sanctuaire des VIe et Ve s., soit de l’époque de la domination achéménide. La présence de céramique confirme par ailleurs que le sanctuaire continua d’être en activité jusqu’à l’époque hellénistique; à l’époque romaine, Dolichè fut intégrée à la province romaine de Syrie et ce fut l’heure de changements significatifs dans l’architecture du sanctuaire. De l’époque hellénistique et romaine date une série de sceaux à l’image de Jupiter Dolichenus et de Tychè assise. La présence de ces sceaux laisse penser que les archives du sanctuaire devaient se trouver non loin de là. De plus, temple, objets et iconographie divine plaident en faveur d’une profonde continuité du culte de Tesup/Tarhun(ta)/ Hadad, le dieu de l’orage anatolien. L’histoire du sanctuaire s’achève au IVe s., quand le bâtiment romain fut divisé en petites structures dépourvues de fonction cultuelle.
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M. BLÖMER, E. WINTER, « Der Dülük Baba Tepesi bei Doliche und das Heiligtum des Iupiter Dolichenus. 2. Vorbericht (2004-2005) », IstMitt 56 (2006), p. 185-205.
Pont
175 12.02 – Zela (Incesu, canyon de Kazankaya) – Un grand relief rupestre, découvert en 1985 et publié en 1986, mais depuis lors tombé dans l’oubli, est ici étudié. Il s’agit d’une représentation de femme en haut-relief, debout dans une niche. Le style est celui de la 2e moitié du IIe s. avant notre ère. L’attitude de la déesse évoque celle d’Artémis-Hécate, mais l’absence d’attribut rend toute identification difficile. Constatant l’absence de témoignages relatifs à Cybèle à l’E du fleuve Halys, l’A. rejette l’identification jadis proposée avec cette déesse et propose d’y voir une Anaïtis; le culte de cette déesse perse est en effet répandu dans la Zélitide. Des niches et d’autres traces de gravures, un tunnel creusé dans le rocher, de l’autre côté du fleuve incitent à replacer ce relief dans un contexte de sanctuaire rupestre. L. SUMMERER, « Die Göttin am Skylax. Ein monumentales hellenistisches Felsrelief in Nordanatolien », AA (2006), p. 17-30.
Lycie
176 12.03 – Kyaneai (montagnes de Yavu) – Découverte au cours d’une prospection d’un nouveau sanctuaire rupestre; il s’agit de petit sanctuaire de montagne, de plan carré – dans le sol duquel un bassin circulaire a été creusé –, accessible par des marches taillées dans le rocher. Un petit relief a été sculpté dans une niche de la paroi rocheuse : il montre trois femmes drapées, comme on en connaît sur d’autres reliefs, à Hoyran, Çandırtal et Idebessos, notamment. Le contexte et l’iconographie suggèrent qu’il s’agit des déesses des sources, – les Eliyana –, des nymphes lyciennes. Ce relief et le sanctuaire pourraient dater de l’époque hellénistique. O. HÜLDEN, « Ein Felsheiligtum mit Dreifigurenrelief im nördlichen Yavu-Bergland (Zentrallykien) », IstMitt 56 (2006), p. 215-225.
Cilicie
177 12.04 – Anazarbos – DAI (Istanbul) – La campagne 2005 a permis de documenter les plus importantes constructions antiques et tardo-impériales, parmi lesquelles le grand escalier de procession qui conduisait au sanctuaire d’Aphrodite Kasalitis. Certains des autels disposés à proximité des premières marches lui étaient dédiés. Au sommet de la colline, sous les vestiges d’une église, le soubassement d’un temple d’époque impériale – probablement celui d’Aphrodite – a été repéré. « Jahresbericht 2005 des DAI. Abteilung Istanbul », AA (2006), 225-228; R. POSAMENTIR, M.H. SAYAR, « Anazarbos – ein Zwischenbereicht aus der Metropole des Ebenen Kilikien », IstMitt 56 (2006), p. 317-357, et part. 337-339; pour le culte d’Aphrodite Kasalitis, cf. M.H. SAYAR, « Aphrodite Kasalitis in Anazarbos », in K. EHLING, D. POHL, M. H. SAYAR, Kulturbegegnung in einem Brückenland, Bonn, 2004 (Asia Minor Studien, 53), p. 185 sq.
178 12.05 – Soli-Pompéiopolis – Dokuz Eylül Üniversitesi, Burca-Izmir – Le secteur du port antique de Soli/Pompéiopolis, aujourd’hui situé dans le secteur de Sütunlu Cadde, a
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livré une série de sculptures parmi lesquelles un groupe statuaire en marbre de Dionysos appuyé sur Pan, une statue d’Asclépios, une de Télesphore ainsi que deux têtes sculptées, l’une féminine (Némésis ?), l’autre masculine (Asclépios ?), qui rejoignent une statue d’Hygie trouvée en 2000. L’époque des Sévères peut être considérée comme le terminus post quem de cet ensemble sculpté.
R. YAĞCI, « Soli/Pompeiopolis antik liman kenti kazıları 2003 », 26. Kazı sonuçları toplantısı, 1. cilt, 24-28 Mayıs 2004, Ankara, 2005, p. 415-420.
Pisidie
179 12.06 – Sagalassos – Université de Leuven – Sur la colline d’Alexandre, dont la fonction originelle était probablement funéraire (découverte de plusieurs vestiges de monuments funéraires), de nombreux éléments d’architecture ainsi que des autels permettent de localiser un sanctuaire du milieu du IIe s. de notre ère; il était consacré à une déesse. M. WAELKENS et al., « Report on the 2003 excavation and restoration campaign at Sagalassos », 26. Kazı sonuçları toplantısı, supra 12.05, p. 421-438, et part. 427-429.
180 – Récemment fouillé, le nymphée de Sagalassos fut construit par un membre de l’élite locale, Tib. Claudius Piso, à la fin de l’époque d’Hadrien. Les conditions exceptionnelles de préservation dont le site a bénéficié ont permis aux A. de déterminer le programme iconographique selon lequel le décor de ce nymphée avait été organisé et, dans certains cas, la place occupée par ces statues dans le nymphée. On évalue à quatorze le nombre des statues de divinités qui devaient être placées dans des niches, sur deux étages; inspirées pour la plupart de modèles d’époque hellénistique, elles forment un ensemble éclectique. Parmi celles-ci, un Apollon citharède colossal, un Poséidon, un Héraclès, un Dionysos et une Aphrodite ont été mis au jour, ainsi qu’une décoration architecturale faite de nymphes, des Tritons et de dieux fleuves, ce qui est relativement attendu dans un nymphée. Les données de la fouille ont parfois permis de restituer la place que chacune d’entre elles occupait; les A. mettent en évidence des liens mythologiques qui justifient la disposition des statues les unes par rapport aux autres. Ainsi, la statue d’Apollon, qui occupe la place centrale dans cet aménagement, pourrait renvoyer à l’empereur Hadrien et au bienfaiteur de Sagalassos. Il en va de même pour une statue d’Héraclès, qui pourrait évoquer l’empereur comme un héros triomphant. Quant aux représentations de Poséidon et de Dionysos, elles témoigneraient de l’influence des cultes locaux sur l’imagerie de ce nymphée.
181 S. MÄGELE, J. RICHARD, M. WAELKENS, « A Late-Hadrianic Nymphaeum at Sagalassos (Pisidia, Turkey). A Preliminary Report », IstMitt 57 (2007), p. 469-504, et part. 481-499.
Carie
182 12.07 – Halicarnasse – University of Southern Denmark, Odense – La campagne 2003 a porté sur la péninsule de Zephyrion, là où se trouvait probablement le palais de Mausole et un sanctuaire d’Apollon dont on a trouvé des éléments architecturaux ainsi que deux inscriptions (l’une était une borne de sanctuaire, l’autre une base pour une statue de bronze, cf. ChronARG [2006] 12.06). Ces divers éléments, étudiés et présentés depuis 2003 dans une pièce située sous la « Tour française », permettent de situer
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chronologiquement ce temple d’Apollon à la fin de l’époque archaïque ou au début de la période classique. M. BERG BRIESE, P. PEDERSEN, « Halikarnassos 2003 », 26. Kazı sonuçları toplantısı, supra 12.05, p. 401-414, et part. 404-405.
183 12.08 – Labraunda – Université d’Uppsala – Des nettoyages réalisés autour du mur de terrasse méridional, qui forme une extension du sanctuaire au S, ont permis de compléter le plan du sanctuaire. De même le mur de temenos a pu être étudié; son parcours suivait le bedrock, qui par endroits affleurait, et formait au N-O une façade rocheuse infranchissable, rendant impossible l’accès du sanctuaire aux intrus. Cette terrasse méridionale, qui était probablement entourée de portiques, formait un espace à l’extérieur de la zone sacrée du sanctuaire de Labraunda. – Par ailleurs, plus de quarante ans après les repérages d’A. Westholm, des tronçons de la voie sacrée qui menait de Labraunda à Mylasa, longue de 60 stades, ont encore pu être observés. Cette voie sacrée, mentionnée par Strabon (XIV, 659), avait, en 1960, été repérée sur une longueur de 7 km; elle était large de 7-8 m, mais semblait avoir disparu peu après, à la suite de la construction d’une nouvelle route. En 2003, la mission suédoise a pu relever plusieurs tronçons des vestiges de cette route, dont une des sections bien conservée est située à 450 m de la partie orientale du sanctuaire. Par endroits, le bedrock constitue la surface de la route, tandis qu’ailleurs, le pavage est constitué de grands blocs de gneiss. Les fouilleurs font l’hypothèse que cette route remonterait au IVe s. avant notre ère et qu’elle a pu servir de voie d’acheminement des blocs destinés à la construction du Mausolée d’Halicarnasse, avant d’être utilisée à des fins cultuelles. P. HELLSTRÖM, L. KARLSSON, « Labraynda 2003 », ibid., p. 75-80.
Phrygie
184 12.09 – Laodiceia– Université de Pamukkale – Découverte, à Suriye Caddedsi – route qui conduit à l’ancienne agora–, d’une plaque de pierre divisée en carreaux sculptés, ornés de divinités grecques : Pan, Dionysos, Ariane, Bellérophon, Tychè-Hygeia. C. SIMSEK, « 2003 yılı Laodikeia antik kenti kazısı », ibid., p. 305-320.
Lydie
185 12.10 – Blaundos – DAI (Istanbul) – Signalons la publication d’une monographie consacrée aux dernières fouilles menées à Blaundos entre 1999 et 2002. Deux chapitres y sont consacrés aux sanctuaires : le premier, au temple au N de la ville, dit « Temple 2 » (temple impérial sur podium entouré d’un quadriportique), l’autre au temple de Cérès (« temple 1 », temple à podium, prostyle d’ordre ionique à quatre colonnes en façade et deux colonnes latérales), mentionné au cours d’une précédente chronique (ChronARG [2003] 12.23). A. FILGES, D. ROOS, « Das Heiligtum in der Nordstadt », in A. FILGES (éd.), Blaundos. Bereichte zur Erforschung einer Kleinstadt im lydisch-phrygischen Grenzgebiet, Tübingen, 2006 (IstForsch, 48), p. 46-66; EID., « Das Ceres-Heiligtum im Stadtzentrum », ibid., p. 140-198.
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Ionie
186 12.11 – Milet (Zeytintepe) – DAI (Istanbul) – Des fouilles se sont poursuivies sur la terrasse O du sanctuaire archaïque d’Aphrodite; dans le dernier quart du VIe s., cet espace a servi de carrière pour l’approvisionnement en calcaire destiné au temple qui, à la fin de l’époque archaïque, fut érigé sur le sommet de la colline. Après la fin des travaux, cette carrière fut comblée avec les déchets de taille, mais elle servit également de bothros à un grand nombre d’offrandes provenant du sanctuaire d’Aphrodite. Il s’agit de terres cuites de korai et de fidèles, caractéristiques de la production locale milésienne – certaines ont conservé leur polychromie originelle – et d’animaux miniatures; il s’agit également de matériel en bronze (une protomé de griffon, des fragments de patères à omphalos) auquel s’ajoute de la céramique (vases de Fikelloura et de la céramique milésienne du VIe s., ornées de scènes que l’on peut rattacher à la sphère d’Aphrodite et de Dionysos). « Jahresbericht 2005 des DAI. Abteilung Istanbul », AA (2006), p. 211-212.
187 – Pour ce qui est de l’imagerie d’Aphrodite en Asie Mineure, signalons un catalogue récemment publié qui compte 35 nouvelles statuettes en terre cuite provenant d’Asie Mineure (mais dont le lieu précis de découverte reste inconnu). Apparues pour la plupart sur le marché de l’art dans les années 70, elles furent achetées par des musées européens ou par des collectionneurs privés. En dépit des soupçons quant à leur authenticité (en raison de leur style inhabituel ou de leurs particularités techniques), elles se sont révélées authentiques à la thermoluminescence. Classées en sept groupes typologiques, sur la base de variantes de détail qui peuvent être probablement attribuées à des artistes différents, elles ne peuvent cependant pas être rattachées à des ateliers déjà connus, comme ceux de Myrina, d’Hadrianotherai ou de Sardes. La création de « base » de ces statues remonterait au début du IIe s. de notre ère, mais la production se serait poursuivie jusqu’au milieu du IIIe s.
E. KIRAZ, « Aphrodite-Statuetten aus Kleinasien: Zu Ikonographie, Funktion und Deutung », IstMitt 57 (2007), p. 505-546.
13. Grande-Grèce (Massimo Osanna et Ilaria Battiloro)
188 13.01 – Pithecussai – Le volume est consacré à l’étude d’un groupe de terres cuites figurées mis au jour sur le promontoire du Monte Vico, un espace fréquenté à des fins cultuelles depuis le VIIIe s. av. J.-C. Une partie des objets est datée au Bronze moyen, le groupe le plus important au géométrique récent I et II, tandis que quelques exemplaires seulement sont compris entre le VIIe et le Ve s., et le IIe et le Iers.av. J.-C. Le corpus des terres cuites évoque des rituels féminins, mais l’identification de la divinité honorée en ce lieu reste purement hypothétique, dans la mesure où l’iconographie attestée est très variée et pourrait renvoyer à toutes les divinités du panthéon grec. Parmi les objets les plus significatifs, on remarque une matrice de tête féminine et une petite tête, toutes les deux avec polos, attribuées par l’A. à la sphère démétriaque. En outre, quelques petits autels en terre cuite portent l’image d’Athéna conformément à l’iconographie bien connue avec casque oriental, qui apparaît aussi sur des antéfixes datées entre le VIIe et le IIIe s. av. J.-C. et sur des supports mobiles de braseros provenant de la même zone. À cette Athéna protectrice des travaux féminins pourraient aussi renvoyer les nombreux poids de métier à tisser trouvés dans la zone. À la lumière des données
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examinées, l’A. considère deux hypothèses sur le culte pratiqué au Monte Vico. Soit il s’agit d’une divinité aux multiples sphères de compétence, soit il faut imaginer la présence de plus d’une figure divine à côté de la divinité principale. Étant donné l’importance assez significative d’Athéna, il s’agit peut-être d’un culte qui lui était dédié, en compagnie d’autres divinités. D’autre part, cette juxtaposition n’est pas insolite, comme le prouve le mélange de divers espaces cultuels attesté dans des sanctuaires d’Athéna connus, comme celui de la zone sacrée N de Poseidonia (M. CIPRIANI, G. AVAGLIANO, « Materiali votivi dall’Athenaion di Paestum », in A. COMELLA, S. MELE (éds), Depositi votivi e culti dell’Italia antica dall’età arcaica a quella tardo- repubblicana, Atti del Convegno di Studi (Perugia 2000), Bari, 2005, p. 555 sq.). L.A. SCATOZZA HÖRICHT, Pithecusa. Materiali votivi da Monte Vico e dall’area di Santa Restituta, Roma, 2007.
189 13.02 – Elea/Velia – Dans le cadre du congrès annuel de Tarente, le surintendant a présenté les résultats des fouilles menées dans la zone du prétendu sanctuaire de Poséidon Asphaleios, entreprises conjointement à la restauration de l’enceinte de la cité. C’est la zone 1 qui a été tout particulièrement fouillée, là où, en 1964, M. Napoli avait mis au jour un naïskos. Le matériel récupéré dans les niveaux argileux sur lesquels s’appuyaient les fondations de cet édicule ont permis de le dater des premières décennies du IIIe s. av. J.-C. Sont contemporaines de ce monument une structure de mur interprétée comme soutènement d’un petit sanctuaire et deux bases quadrangulaires situées devant l’édicule. G. TOCCO, « L’attività archeologica nelle province di Salerno, Avellino e Benevento nel 2006 (Elea – Velia) », in Passato e futuro dei convegni di Taranto. Atti del quarantaseiesimo Convegno di Studi sulla Magna Grecia, (Taranto 29 settembre-1 ottobre 2006), Taranto, Istituto per la storia e l’archeologia della Magna Grecia, 2007, p. 396-399.
190 13.03 – Herakleia – Soprintendenza per i Beni Archeologici della Basilicata, Institut archéologique de l’Université d’Innsbruck – Mise à jour des travaux menés dans le sanctuaire urbain dédié à Déméter et dirigés par M. Tschurtschenthaler, avec l’appui scientifique de Brinna Otto. Les recherches se sont concentrées sur la « zone centrale » du complexe, où ont été identifiés des niveaux massifs fonctionnellement liés à la réalisation de terrasses. La datation du matériel provenant de ces niveaux indique que cette partie du sanctuaire a subi une importante restructuration au cours du IVe s. av. J.- C. Deux dépôts de matériel en fer mis au jour dans cette zone ont été interprétés comme une déposition rituelle à l’occasion de la restructuration de l’ensemble. A. DE SIENA, « L’attività archeologica in Basilicata nel 2006 (Siris – Eraclea) », in Passato e futuro dei convegni di Taranto, supra 13.02, p. 448-449.
191 13.04 – Tarente – L’A. se penche sur l’organisation des espaces sacrés de la zone urbaine de Tarente, entre l’époque archaïque et l’époque hellénistique. À l’époque archaïque, les zones sacrées assument un rôle spécifique en fonction de leur situation topographique : sur l’acropole sont érigés deux sanctuaires servant à monumentaliser les deux entrées de l’espace public, tandis que sur le plateau oriental de la zone urbaine, de nombreux espaces de culte occupent des zones de confins entre les différents espaces fonctionnels de la cité (la fosse des « Giardini Peripato » est située en zone résidentielle et en zone de nécropole, le fond « Giovinazzi » se trouve entre la zone de production, portuaire et funéraire, le petit sanctuaire de la via T. Minniti sépare la nécropole de la partie urbanisée de la cité); de nouveaux espaces sacrés voient
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le jour, qui, aussi à cette période, ont une importance liée à leur situation topographique. Il faut particulièrement signaler l’espace sacré de la place Jean XXIII, dédié au culte des Dioscures, près de l’espace public de la polis, et un édifice dédié au culte de Dionysos, érigé dans le quartier d’habitation. À l’époque hellénistique, au contraire, les espaces utilisés pour le culte diminuent drastiquement. À la lumière des données examinées, Tarente semble s’être différenciée, sur le plan urbanistique, des autres cités de Grande-Grèce, où les sanctuaires ont tendance à se concentrer à l’intérieur ou à proximité de l’agora (Métaponte, Poseidonia, Herakleia). Dans la colonie spartiate, au contraire, les sanctuaires se situent pour la plupart aux limites de la zone urbaine. A. VIESTI, « Spazi cultuali a Taranto tra VII e III sec. a.C.: alcune osservazioni », Archivio Storico Pugliese 60 (2007), p. 7-30.
192 13.05 – Kaulonia – Analyse préliminaire des terres cuites votives découvertes dans la région du sanctuaire de Punta Stilo, qui font l’objet des fouilles dirigées par M.C. Parra depuis 1999. Parmi les objets examinés, on signale quelques exemplaires de figurines allongées, une figure féminine nue assise, deux têtes de grotesques, des têtes féminines. Il faut mettre en évidence quelques exemplaires provenant du temple dorique : un hermès miniature ithyphallique à valeur apotropaïque, mis au jour au-dessus du cailloutis de fondation du temple, un pinax avec trois têtes de nymphes, du type connu à la grotte Caruso à Locres, un fragment qui représente une figure féminine tenant une fleur de lotus. Le matériel se situe entre le Ve et le IIIe s. av. J.-C. et provient essentiellement de la zone concernée par l’effondrement du temple. V. ANGELETTI, « La coroplastica votiva dal santuario di Punta Stilo », in M.C. PARRA (éd.), Kaulonía, Caulonia, Stilida (e oltre).Contributi storici, archeologici e topografici, 2, Pisa, 2004 [2007] (Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, Serie Iv, Quaderni 17), p. 139-160.
193 – Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, Soprintendenza per i Beni Archeologici della Calabria – Présentation des mises à jour des travaux menés dans la zone du temple dorique de Punta Stilo. Les recherches se sont concentrées sur le grand autel situé au S du temple, déjà partiellement mis au jour lors des campagnes de fouilles antérieures. La structure est datée de la 1re moitié du Ve s. av. J.-C. et est donc plus ancienne que le temple lui- même, tandis que son démantèlement remonte à la 1re moitié du siècle suivant. C. SABBIONE, « L’attività archeologica in Calabria nel 2006 », in Passato e futuro dei convegni di Taranto, supra13.02, p. 476-477.
14. Sicile (Nicola Cucuzza)
194 14.00 – Généralités
195 – Sur la base de la documentation archéologique des sanctuaires de Déméter en Sicile (à Géla, Agrigente, Licata, Eloro, Syracuse) et en se fondant sur la reconstruction des rituels de Déméter à Athènes, l’A. propose d’interpréter les sanctuaires à l’extérieur des habitats (comme celui de Bitalemi associé à Géla) comme des lieux de réunion d’où une procession aurait rallié le sanctuaire principal de la déesse au cœur de l’habitat – que, dans le cas de Géla, l’A. croit pouvoir identifier au Temple C sur l’acropole de Molino à Vento, mais sans certitude.
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E. DE MIRO, « Thesmophoria di Sicilia », in C.A. DI STEFANO (a cura di), Demetra. La divinità, i santuari, il culto, la leggenda (Enna, 1-4 luglio 2004), Pisa/Roma, 2008 (Biblioteca di Sicilia Antiqua, 2), p. 47-92.
196 14.01 – Himère – Dans la publication définitive des fouilles d’un secteur de l’habitat, on relève la présence de quelques artéfacts (poids de métier à tisser avec représentation de figures féminines, vases miniatures, figurines de terre cuite), qui sont peut-être à rapporter à une activité cultuelle à l’intérieur des habitations. N. ALLEGRO (éd.), Himera V. L’abitato. Isolato II. I blocchi 1-4 della zona 1, Palermo, 2008.
197 14.02 – Catane – Examen des données archéologiques relatives au sanctuaire de Déméter, mentionné par Cicéron et localisable dans la zone de l’extrémité S de l’actuelle via Crociferi, sur la base du lieu de découverte d’une paire d’inscriptions et d’un groupe de statuettes en terre cuite. G. RIZZA, « Demetra a Catania », in Demetra, supra 14.01, p. 187-191.
198 14.03 – Lentini – Publication des fouilles effectuées en 1988 dans le sanctuaire situé juste à l’O de l’habitat antique et fréquenté entre les VIIe et Ve s. av. J.-C., déjà en partie connu par un article préliminaire (ChronARG [2005] 14.01; [2006] 14.07). Une petite pièce carrée, une trace de mur (de temenos ?) et un « cailloutis » sont les seules structures architecturales identifiées; il semble toutefois que seule une partie du sanctuaire ait été mise au jour. La publication présente le matériel divisé en classes, avec l’appendice relatif aux analyses palinologiques et celui voué aux restes ostéologiques : ce dernier indique une nette prépodérance d’ossements d’ovicaprins, de bovins et de porcs domestiques. La présence réduite de céramique à cuire contraste avec celle de plusieurs zones de combustion, mises en rapport avec la cuisson des viandes des animaux sacrifiés. Les figurines en terre cuite sont également peu documentées. L’étude affronte la question de la divinité honorée dans le sanctuaire : l’A. prétend que le culte des Dioscures, épigraphiquement attesté par une dédicace sur un cratère attique de la 2e moitié du Ve s. av. J.-C. (ChronARG [2004] 14.03), aurait été introduit seulement après la refondation de la colonie par les Deinoménides (on signale toutefois un graffito archaïque sur ostrakon de la part d’un affranchi); en s’appuyant sur l’analogie avec le sanctuaire d’Apollon Daphnèphoros d’Érétrie, l’A. propose d’identifier avec Artémis la divinité titulaire du sanctuaire à la période archaïque. L. GRASSO, La stipe del Santuario di Alaimo a Lentini. Un’area sacra tra la chora e il mare, Catania, 2008 (Monografie dell’Istituto per i Beni Archeologici e Monumentali – C.N.R., 2).
199 14.04 – Mineo (Palikè) – Soprintendenza ai Beni Culturali e Ambientali di Catania – Publication systématique des fouilles archéologiques menées dans le sanctuaire depuis 1995 (ChronARG [2003] 14.10; [2004] 14.04) avec une analyse du matériel et des restes architecturaux, intégrant également le résultat des analyses des restes organiques (botaniques et archéozoologiques). Ce lieu, qui se caractérise par la présence d’une grotte et de deux petits lacs (aujourd’hui asséchés), offre des traces d’une occupation préhistorique (certaines renvoyant au mésolithique, avec une fréquentation plus intense durant le chalcolithique). Selon le témoignage des sources (Hippys de Rhegion), le sanctuaire aurait été édifié au cours de la 26e Olympiade (636-632 av. J.-C). C’est précisément de cette période que datent quelques constructions, tandis qu’une phase monumentale du complexe se situe au Ve s. av. J.-C., quand il représentait le sanctuaire fédéral des Sicules. La fréquentation cultuelle a cessé au plus tard au IIIe s. ap. J.-C.,
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quand un bâtiment à vocation agricole s’est implanté sur les restes des structures religieuses plus anciennes.
200 L’espace en face de la grotte montre les vestiges d’une canalisation antique, des traces de rues et de divers édifices de petite dimension de la même période, même si l’alignement différent révèle l’existence de phases différentes (les édifices A et P ont la même orientation que les structures plus tardives). La présence de céramique de cuisson et de vaisselle de table montre que la cuisson et la consommation de repas faisaient partie des activités essentielles du lieu. Au-delà de la grotte, les restes d’un F0 bâtiment rectangulaire de 32 B4 12 m font penser à une temple archaïque, enclos d’un F0 e mur de temenos qui délimite une zone de 55 B4 75 m. Au V s. av. J.-C., l’espace en face de la grotte a été monumentalisé selon un plan orthogonal régulier, avec la construction F0 d’une vaste structure de 29,26 B4 11,80 m, avec une colonnade d’entrée, divisée symétriquement en pièces rectangulaires, interprétée comme un hestiatorion (H). Un peu au S, se trouve une stoa (B) longue de quelque 50 m, avec une colonnade dorique et des pièces arrières, tandis qu’une deuxième stoa (FA) se trouvait sur une terrasse inférieure, encore plus au S (les prospections radar permettent d’en estimer la longueur à quelque 100 m). À l’intérieur de la stoa B, devenue hors d’usage au cours du Ve s. av. J.-C., on signale en particulier les trouvailles de l’espace 6, où un bothros carré (avec à l’intérieur des ossements d’agneaux et de porcs), une banquette en briques crues, un loutèrion en terre cuite et divers autres objets – dont une courte épée en fer – font penser que cette pièce a probablement été utilisée pour l’accomplissement de sacrifices sanglants, mis en rapport avec les rituels ordaliques de purification attestés par les sources (Polémon). Une série de dépôts votifs, caractérisés par la présence de cendres et de charbon (souvent avec des ossements d’ovicaprins et de porcs, mais aussi de bœufs et de chevaux) a été mise au jour dans le même secteur à des niveaux plus récents, près du mur S de l’édifice hellénistique P – dont seules les fondations sont conservées, en relation avec l’hestiatorion H. Ces dépôts pourraient témoigner d’une forme de continuité cultuelle au moins jusqu’au Ier s. av. J.-C. L. MANISCALCO (éd.), Il Santuario dei Palici. Un centro di culto nella Valle dei Margi, Palermo, 2008.
201 14.05 – Morgantina – Analyse des édifices du sanctuaire des divinités chthoniennes, dans un essai de reconstruction du développement des rituels qui y étaient accomplis.
202 A. SPOSITO, « Architettura e rito nel santuario delle divinità ctonie di Morgantina », in Demetra, supra 14.01, p. 221-233.
203 14.06 – Centuripe – Analyse des différentes données archéologiques en relation avec le culte de Déméter (surtout des bustes et des statuettes en terre cuite des IVe-IIIe s. av. J.- C.), dont le temple devait se trouver au S du Duomo. R. PATANÈ, « Demetra a Centuripe », in Demetra, supra 14.01, p. 255-260.
204 14.07 – Casmene (Monte Casale) – La matrice d’une antéfixe archaïque à tête féminine, trouvée dans une maison près du temple (G. Voza, in Archeologia nella Sicilia sud-orientale, Siracusa, 1973, p. 129-130), pourrait être mise en relation avec un culte aux Nymphes. P. PELAGATTI, « Tipi inediti o rari di antefisse arcaiche tra Sicilia e Magna Grecia. Soggetti e culti », in I. EDLUND-BERRY, G. GRECO, J. KENFIELD, Deliciae Fictiles III. Architectural Terracottas in Ancient Italy: new discoveries and interpretations (American Academy in Rome, November 7-8, 2002), Oxford, 2006, p. 433-451.
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205 14.08 – Camarina– La publication des terres cuites trouvées dans les fouilles d’un fourneau, au N de l’habitat (avec du matériel datable entre le milieu du Ve et le milieu du IVe s. av. J.-C.), met en lumière la présence de diverses figurines d’Artémis, dont le culte n’est pas autrement attestés sur le site. Les données archéologiques relatives au culte de Déméter sont rassemblées dans une étude particulière. M. PISANI, Camarina. Le terrecotte figurate e la ceramica da una fornace di V e IV secolo a.C., Roma, 2008; G. DI STEFANO, « Demetra a Camarina. Note di topografia. Revisioni e novità », in Demetra, supra 14.01, p. 261-271.
206 14.09 – Géla – P. Orlandini a mené un rapide examen de la documentation archéologique relative aux sanctuaires que l’on estime dédiés à Déméter (Madonna dell’Alemanna, via Fiume, Predio Sola), avec une attention particulière à celui de Bitalemi. P. ORLANDINI, « Demetra a Gela », in Demetra, supra 14.01, p. 173-186.
207 – Dans un bref article, l’A. rappelle ce que l’on connaît déjà sur « la fosse à l’intérieur du pithos » (VIe s. av. J.-C.), sur la fosse sous l’Édifice 12 et celle sous l’Édifice 2 (toutes deux datées de la 2e moitié du IVe s. av. J.-C.), qu’il met en relation avec un culte de Déméter situé sur l’acropole de Molino a vento (ChronARG [2006] 14.08). R. PANVINI, « Il sistema delle offerte nei santuari ctonii dell’acropoli di Gela », in G. GRECO, B. FERRARA (éds), Doni agli dei. Il sistema dei doni votivi nei santuari (Napoli 21 aprile 2006), Napoli, 2008, p. 241-255.
208 14.10 – Polizzello – Ce bref article rassemble les données relatives aux fouilles menées ces dernières années dans l’espace sacré, déjà en partie connues (ChronARG [2005] 14.05; [2007] 14.09), avec la découverte d’objets en ambre et d’armes. L’A. considère que les Meteres mentionnées par Diodore étaient peut-être honorées dans le sanctuaire et voit des analogies crétoises dans quelques-uns des objets votifs (en particulier les modèles réduits de bâtiments). D. PALERMO, « Doni votivi e aspetti del culto nel santuario indigeno della Montagna di Polizzello », in GRECO, FERRARA, supra 14.09, p. 257-270.
209 14.11 – Sélinonte– Les complexes archaïques de ce que l’on appelle les « petites métopes » et des métopes du Temples C sont assortis de nouveaux fragments sculptés, jusqu’ici inédits. C. MARCONI, Temple Decoration and Cultural Identity in the Archaic Greek World. The Metopes of Selinus, Cambridge, 2007.
210 14.12 – Entella – Découverte d’un sanctuaire le long des pentes N de la colline, près de la porte N-O et d’une nécropole (ChronARG [2005] 14.08). Les objets votifs, avec beaucoup de statuettes féminines avec porcelet et de nombreuses lampes, laissent penser que le sanctuaire (fréquenté entre la fin du VIe et le IIIe s. av. J.-C.) pourrait avoir été dédié à Déméter et Koré. La présence de nombreux ossements de bovins, ovicaprins, porcs et sangliers atteste que le sacrifice sanglant et la consommation de repas étaient des activités importantes dans l’espace sacré. Jusqu’au Ve s. av. J.-C., le culte aurait eu lieu à ciel ouvert. C’est seulement après qu’auraient été construits un ou plusieurs édifices, ruinés par les interventions médiévales dans le secteur. F. SPATAFORA, « Entella: il Thesmophorion di Contrada Petraro », in Demetra, supra 14.01, p. 273-284.
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Index géographique (Alexis D’Hautcourt)
211 Acarnanie, Épire, Illyrie méridionale, îles ioniennes Épire Bouthrôtos 05.02 Dodone 05.01 Molosses 05.01 Onchesmos 05.03 Saranda 05.03 Îles ioniennes Corcyre 05.05 Illyrie méridionale 05.04 Amantia 05.04 Apollonia 05.04 05.06 Bouthrôtos 05.04 Dyrrhachion 05.07 Épidamne 05.07 Grammata 05.04-05 Phoinikè 05.04
212 Asie Mineure Carie Halicarnasse 12.07-08 Labraunda 12.08 Mylasa 12.08 Cilicie Anazarbos 12.04 Pompeiopolis 12.05 Soli 12.05 Commagène Dolichè 12.01 Ionie Clazomènes 08.01 Milet 12.11 Téos 08.01 Lycie Kyaneai 12.03 Lydie Blaundos 12.10 Sardes 12.11 Mysie Hadrianotherai 12.11 Myrina 12.11 Phrygie Laodiceia 12.09 Pisidie Sagalassos 12.06 Pont Zela 12.02
213 Attique Athènes 09.34, 14.00 Éleusis 09.28, 09.33
214 Béotie Delphes 05.01, 09.14, 09.34, 09.43
215 Eubée 09.50 Érétrie 07.14, 07.17, 14.03
216 Chypre 09.30, 09.50, 11.00 Amathonte 11.09-10 Arsos 11.00 Athiénou 11.03 Cholades 11.00 Geronisos 11.14 Golgoi 11.00, 11.04 Idalion 11.00, 11.05 Kafizin 11.02 Kalavassos 11.07 Kition 11.00, 11.16 Kourion 11.00, 11.10 Lapéthos 11.00 Larnaca 11.17 Limassol 11.08 Malloura 11.03 Marion 11.15 Néapaphos 11.00 Nicosie 11.01 Paphos 11.12-13 Phasoula 11.00 Rantidi 11.12 Salamine 09.24, 11.15 Soloi 11.00 Tamassos 11.06 Vavla- Kapsalaes 11.07
217 Crète 11.13, 14.10
218 Égypte 09.50, 11.00, 11.09 Naucratis 11.00
219 Grande-Grèce Élea 13.02 Herakleia 13.03-04 Kaulonia 13.05 Locres 13.05 Métaponte 13.04 Pithecussai 13.01 Poseidonia 13.04 Tarente 13.04 Velia 13.02
220 Îles de l’Égée Anaphè 09.13 Andros 09.14-17 Antiparos 09.35 Astypalaia 09.04-05 Cyclades 09.13 Délos 09.13-14, 09.18-26, 09.34 Despotiko 09.35 Gyaros 09.13 Ios 09.13 Kéa 09.27 Kéos 09.13 Kitrianè 09.13 Kos 09.06-08 Kythnos 09.13, 09.28 Melos 09.13 Mykonos 09.18 Naxos 09.13, 09.29-34 Paros 09.13, 09.34-37 Rhénée 09.13, 09.18 Rhodes 09.09-12, 09.50 Samothrace 08.02, 09.03, 09.24, 09.28 Seriphopoula 09.13 Sériphos 09.13 Siphnos 09.13, 09.39-44 Syros 09.13 Ténos 09.13, 09.45 Thasos 07.00, 09.01-02 Théra 09.13, 09.46-50
221 Macédoine 07.00 Aigai 07.00, 07.04 Aineia 07.00 Aïnodochori 07.00 Akanthos 07.00 Aphytis 07.00 Archontiko 07.03 Axioupolis 07.11 Bergé 07.18 Beroia 07.09 Dikaia 07.14 Dion 05.01, 07.00, 07.08 Kalindoia 07.10 Kallithea 07.00, 07.15-16 Komanos 07.02 Mavropigi 07.01 Mendé 07.17 Olympe (Mont) 07.00 Néapolis 07.00 Pella 07.05-06 Philippes 07.21 Poseidi 07.17 Pydna 07.07 Sidirokastro 07.19 Skydra 07.00 Thessalonique 07.00, 07.12-13 Tragilos 07.20 Vergina 07.00, 07.04
222 Palestine 09.50
223 Péloponnèse Olympie 05.01
224 Perse 07.00
225 Phénicie 09.50, 11.08
226 Sicile 14.00 Agrigente 14.00 Camarina 14.08 Casmene 14.07 Catane 14.02 Centuripe 14.06 Eloro 14.00 Entella 14.12 Géla 14.00 14.09 Himère 14.01 Lentini 14.03 Licata 14.00
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Mineo 14.04 Morgantina 14.05 Palikè 14.04 Polizzello 14.10 Sélinonte 14.11 Syracuse 14.00
227 Syrie 09.50
228 Thrace 08.00 Abdère 08.01-02 Ainos 08.00, 08.04 Amphipolis 08.00 Antisara 08.00 Dikaia 08.00 Maronée 08.00 Néapolis 08.00 Oisymé 08.00 Perinthos 08.00 Philippes 08.00 Philippopolis 08.00 Pistiros 08.03 Zoné 08.02
Index thématique (Alexis D’Hautcourt)
229 acropole 05.06, 07.20, 09.27-28, 09.41-43, 11.09, 13.04
230 affranchissement 05.02, 07.00
231 agora 09.16, 11.09, 12.09, 13.04
232 animaux – ossements et autres restes : 11.09 agneau 14.04 bovin 14.03-04, 14.12 cheval 14.04 coquillage 09.04 coquille d’oeuf 09.05 mollusque 09.45 œuf d’autruche 09.48 ovicaprin 14.03-04 porc 09.48, 14.03-04, 14.12 porcelet 07.18 sanglier 14.12
233 animaux – représentation : bélier 11.00 bœuf 11.00 bouc 09.13 lion 11.03 oiseau 09.41 scarabée 09.50 serpent 11.09 (voir figurine)
234 agora 07.12, 09.43
235 apothéose 11.09
236 Arbre-de-la-Vie 11.00
237 archives 12.01
238 association religieuse 07.00, 07.09, 07.13, 09.10
239 atelier : coroplastique 12.11
240 auteurs anciens : Appien 05.07 Bible 11.00 Cicéron 14.02 Denys d’Halicarnasse 05.03 Diodore de Sicile 07.00 14.10 Euripide 05.01 Hérodote 05.01 Hésychios 09.41 Hippys de Rhegion 14.04 Plutarque 07.00 Polémon 14.04 Sémos de Délos 09.13 Simonide 09.13 Strabon 05.01, 12.08 Théocrite 09.08 Thucydide 05.05 Vitruve 09.06
241 bouleutèrion 05.01
242 calendrier 07.14
243 céramique : amphore 11.02 amphore panathénaïque 08.02 anneau kernoïde à hydrisques 09.28 aryballe 09.48, 09.50 assiette 09.48 canthare 07.05 coupe 09.27-28 cratère 09.27-28, 14.03 dinos 11.13 à figures noires 09.27-28 hydrie 08.01, 09.12, 09.28, 09.48 hydrie miniature 09.28 hydrisque 09.33 kalpis 09.12, 09.28 kernos à cupules schématisées 09.28 kotyle 09.27, 09.48 kotyliskos 09.27 kylix 09.48, 09.50 lampe 09.27-28, 14.12 lécythe 09.50 œnochoé 09.27 09.48 phiale 09.48 pithos 09.32, 09.42, 09.45 plat à omphalos 07.04 plèmochoè 09.28 pyxide 09.48 skyphos 09.27-28 09.48 unguentarium 09.05 vase 09.42 vase à boire 09.27 vase miniature 09.28, 09.48, 14.01 vase en faïence 09.50 vase en forme de phallus 07.12 vase plastique en faïence 07.03 vase rituel 09.28
244 char : défilé 11.09
245 coiffure 11.12
246 colonie 07.00, 07.14, 07.17, 08.01, 08.02, 09.03, 09.14, 14.03
247 concours musical 09.20
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248 culte : continuité 09.32, 11.01, 12.01, 14.04 domestique 14.01 égyptien 07.13, 11.00 de fertilité 09.33 funéraire 09.45 médical 11.16 en plein air 07.00, 09.33, 14.12 fusion 09.03 impérial 07.09-10, 11.00, 12.10 oriental 07.09, 11.00 poliade 09.43 royal 09.14 09.20 secondaire 09.32 transformation 11.16 (voir rite)
249 déesses, dieux, êtres mythiques :
250 Abdéros 08.01
251 Achélôos 07.03
252 Achille 05.06, 09.46
253 Adrasteia 09.14
254 Alexandre le Grand 07.09, 07.13
255 Anaïtis 12.02
256 Aphrodite 05.01, 05.03, 07.00, 07.06, 07.20, 08.01, 09.14, 09.16, 09.28, 09.44, 09.50, 11.00, 11.05-06, 11.09, 11.13, 12.06, 12.11 Astarté 11.16 Euploia 11.09 Kasalitis 12.04 Kypria 11.09
257 Apollon 07.01, 07.19, 08.00, 08.02, 08.03-04, 09.03, 09.16, 09.25, 09.27-28, 09.31, 09.33-34, 09.41, 11.00, 11.05, 11.14 citharède 07.02, 12.06 Daphnèphoros 07.14, 14.03 Délios 09.31 Derenos 08.01 Hylatès 11.00 Karneios 09.49 Patrôos 09.14 Pythios 09.14, 09.16, 09.36, 09.43 Reshef-Alasiotas 11.06
258 Arès 09.02
259 Ariane 09.30, 12.09
260 Artémis 05.07, 07.18, 08.00-01, 09.03, 09.14, 09.16, 09.28, 09.41-42, 14.03, 14.08 Akraia 07.13 Ekbatèria 09.41 Ephesia 09.41 Gourasia 07.13 Hécate 12.02 Potnia 09.41 Soteira 09.01
261 Asclépios 05.02, 07.00, 07.13, 08.03, 09.13-14, 09.36, 12.05
262 Astarté 11.01, 11.09, 11.16
263 Athéna 07.00, 07.12, 07.14, 08.00, 09.27, 09.34, 09.41, 11.00, 13.01 Epipyrgitis 08.01 Lindia 09.10 Tauropolos 09.14, 09.16
264 Baal-Hammon 11.00
265 Bacchus 11.00
266 Bellérophon 12.09
267 Bendis 08.00, 09.03
268 Bès 11.01, 11.03, 11.09
269 “bon génie” 11.02
270 Cérès 12.10
271 Charon 05.06
272 chthoniennes (divinités) 14.05
273 couple divin 11.05
274 Cybèle 08.01, 09.14, 11.06, 12.02
275 Déméter 07.00, 08.01, 09.14, 09.16, 09.27-28, 09.33, 09.45, 09.48, 13.01, 13.03, 14.00, 14.02, 14.06, 14.08-09, 14.12 Thesmophoros 09.13, 09.37
276 Deucalion 07.00
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277 Diane 08.00, 11.00
278 Dieu-Roi 11.09
279 Dieux de Samothrace 09.28
280 Dioné 05.01
281 Dionysos 07.00, 07.08, 07.12, 07.21, 08.00-01, 08.04, 09.02, 09.08, 09.14, 09.16, 09.30-31, 11.09, 12.05-06, 12. 09, 12.11, 13.04 Horophoros 07.13
282 Dioscures 05.05, 13.04, 14.03
283 Eliyana 12.03
284 Enée 07.13
285 Erinyes 09.14
286 Esculape 11.00
287 Eshmun 11.16
288 Dieu fleuve 12.06
289 Fulvus 07.13
290 Gè 09.14, 09.17
291 Gorgo 09.42
292 Grand(s) Dieu(x), Grande Déesse 09.03, 11.09
293 Hadès 05.06, 07.03, 09.14, 11.00
294 Harpocrate 11.09
295 Hécate 08.01, 09.14
296 Hélios 09.14, 09.17
297 Héphaïstos 07.08, 11.09
298 Héra 08.00
299 Héraclès 07.00, 07.12-13, 08.00-01, 09.14, 09.16, 11.00, 11.03, 11.09, 12.06 Dactyle 11.09 Malika 11.09 Milqart 11.09, 11.16
300 Hercule 11.00
301 Hermès 07.20, 08.01, 08.03, 09.14, 09.16 Kadmilos 09.14 Perperaios 08.03 Psychopompe 05.06
302 Héros 07.13, 09.14
303 Héros cavalier 07.08, 08.00, 09.02
304 Hestia Boulaia 09.14
305 Horus 11.09
306 Hygie 07.09, 09.14, 09.16, 11.00, 12.05, 12.09
307 Ilithye 09.14, 09.16, 09.50
308 Inopos 09.23
309 Isis 07.13, 09.14, 09.16, 11.09 Locheia 07.13 Memphitis 07.13
310 Jupiter Capitolin 07.08 Dolichenus 12.01
311 Kabeiros 07.13
312 Koré 07.00, 08.01, 09.14, 09.27-28, 09.33, 14.12
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313 Léda 07.20
314 Mars 07.21 Ultor 07.08
315 Mère des Dieux 07.06, 09.16
316 Meteres 14.10
317 Milqart 11.09, 11.16
318 Minerve 11.00
319 Minos 05.06
320 Mithra 09.14, 09.16
321 Muses 07.00
322 Némésis 07.13, 07.21, 09.02, 09.14, 09.16, 11.00, 12.05
323 Nymphe(s) 07.19, 08.00-01, 09.14, 09.16, 09.40, 11.02, 12.03, 12.06, 13.05, 14.07
324 Osiris 11.09, 12.01
325 Pan 07.19, 09.16, 11.03, 12.05, 12.09
326 Parthénos 07.00, 08.00
327 Pégase 11.09
328 Perséphone 07.00, 07.03, 07.07, 11.00
329 Poséidon 07.13, 08.03, 12.06 Asphaleios 13.02 Pontios 07.17
330 Potnia thèrôn 09.42
331 Pygmalion 11.09
332 Sérapis 09.26
333 Silvanus 08.00
334 sirène 05.06
335 Télesphore 12.05
336 Terre 05.01
337 Tesup/Tarhun(ta)/ Hadad 12.01
338 Thétis 05.06
339 Timésias 08.01
340 Triton 12.06
341 Tychè 08.01, 12.01, 12.09
342 Vénus 11.00
343 Victoire 07.21 de l’Empereur 07.08
344 Zeus 07.00, 07.08, 07.10, 08.00, 08.03-04, 09.14, 09.16-17, 09.31, 09.47, 11.00 Ammon 07.00, 07.16, 11.00, 11.03 Eleutherios 08.01 Hypsistos 07.00, 07.08, 07.13 Karpophoros 09.14 Labranios 11.00 Lykeios 08.01 Meilichios 09.14, 09.16, 11.09 Naios 05.01 Olympios 07.00 Philios 07.05 Velchanos 11.15
345 enfant 08.01, 11.14
346 ex-voto et mobilier cultuel: 05.01, 11.00 Aegyptiaca 09.50 ambre 14.10 amulette 09.50, 11.00, 11.14, 12.01 anneau en terre cuite 09.42 applique murale 11.00, 11.03 arme 09.42, 14.04, 14.11 autel 08.01, 09.13, 09.28, 09.37, 11.00, 11.05-06, 12.04, 12.06, 13.01, 13.05
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autel cylindrique 09.11 bassin 09.32-33 bijou 09.50 bijou en ivoire 09.41 bijou en métal 09.42 bouton 07.12 bracelet 07.11 brûle-parfum 11.00 cheveux 09.36 clé 07.12 colonne votive 09.32-33 corne de consécration 11.12 couronne en or 09.10 cristal de roche 09.48 dépôt 09.28, 09.41, 09.45, 13.03 diadème en or 07.18 disque à décor imprimé et incisé 09.42 fibule 12.01 jouet 08.01 lamelle d’or 07.00 lamelle dyonisiaque 07.07 lamelle orphique 07.07 lamelle en plomb 09.42 loutèrion 14.04 lustre de sanctuaire 09.28 masque 09.30 masque d’argent 09.10 médaillon en bronze 07.12 modèle de bateau 11.09 modèle de bâtiment 14.10 modèle de sanctuaire 11.00-01 monnaie 07.07 navire 09.24 outil 09.42 patère à omphalos 12.11 perle 12.01 peson 09.45 plaquette d’Astarté 11.09 poids de métier à tisser 13.01, 14.01 relief 07.08 polyelaios 09.28 sceau 09.41-42, 09.50, 12.01 stèle funéraire 05.06 support de brasero 13.01 table 09.33 table d’offrandes 09.45 thymiatèrion 11.03 tronc à offrandes 05.02 trône 11.00 (voir céramique, figurine, relief, statue, stèle)
347 femme 07.00
348 fête: 07.00, 09.13, 09.20 Antigoneia 09.20 Apollonia 09.20 Demetreia 09.20 Dionysia 09.20 Naia 05.01 Olympia 05.01 Ptolemaia 09.20 Thesmophories 09.13, 09.33
349 figurine et statuette: 05.07, 07.03, 07.06, 07.12, 09.28, 09.41, 09.44, 09.48, 11.01, 11.05, 11.08-09, 11.12, 12.11, 13.01, 13.05, 14.01-03, 14.06, 14.08, 14.12 assise 09.50 bovidé 09.07, 11.09 cavalier 11.01, 11.17 char 11.01 cheval 09.07, 09.42, 11.17 chien 09.42 conducteur de char 11.09 déesse au trône 09.30 enfant 09.28 félin 11.09 femme 08.01, 09.28, 09.32, 09.37, 09.42, 09.48, 11.01, 11.05, 11.09, 11.17, 13.05, 14.12 fidèle 12.11 griffon 09.42, 12.11 grotesque 13.05 hermès miniature ityphallique 13.05 homme 11.01 joueur de flûte 11.01 joueuse de tambourin 11.01 koré 12.11 kourotrophe 11.05 lion 11.09 lit funéraire 11.15 lotus 13.05 oiseau 09.42, 09.48, 11.17 Palladion 09.41 péplophore 09.37 polychromie 12.11 porcelet 09.28 proue de bateau 11.17 sanglier 07.18 sphinx 11.01 tanagra 11.01 taureau 11.01 11.17 temple boy 11.01, 11.14, 11.16 (voir statue)
350 fortification 09.43
351 gymnase 09.14, 11.00
352 héros 07.00
353 inscription : 05.05, 05.07, 07.01, 07.08, 07.13-14, 08.02, 09.02, 09.10, 09.33, 09.36, 09.40, 09.43, 11.00-01, 11.04, 11.06, 11.09, 12.07, 14.02 graffito 09.50, 11.09, 11.12 graffito votif 09.46
354 Juifs 07.09
355 Koinon des Macédoniens 07.09
356 monnaie : 11.00 funéraire 07.07 monnayage 07.09, 07.20, 08.02, 08.04, 09.13-14, 09.43
357 musique : instruments 11.00
358 mystères 07.00, 09.28, 09.32-33
359 nain 11.09
360 navigation céleste 11.09
361 nécropole : 07.06, 09.05, 09.11-12, 11.15, 12.06, 14.12 enchytrismos 09.04 péribole funéraire 09.45 tombe à ciste 09.45 tombe à tuiles 09.12 (voir sarcophage)
362 Noms de personnes : Alexandre le Grand 07.09 Antigone le Borgne 09.24 Archélaos 07.00 Arsinoé Philadelphe 11.01 11.09 Auguste 07.13 Démétrios Poliorcète 09.24 Dorimachos 05.01 Eukleia 07.00 Euridice 07.00 Hadrien 12.06 Jules César 07.13 Mausole 12.07
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Olympias 07.09 Paul-Emile 05.01 Perdikkas III 07.14 Philippe II 07.07 Ptolémée I 09.24 Ptolémées 09.10 Pyrrhos 05.01
363 occupation : architecte 09.06 berger 05.01, 09.31 gladiateur 07.21, 09.02 magistrat 05.01 marin 05.05 ouvrier de carrière 09.32 soldat 05.01
364 oracle 05.01
365 palais 11.09, 12.07
366 panthéon : 09.39 assemblée des dieux
367 papyrus 07.00
368 parfum 11.00
369 pèlerin 07.19, 11.14
370 polis 09.13, 13.04
371 prêtre : 05.01, 05.06, 07.08, 09.10, 09.14, 11.00 prêtresse 05.01, 05.06, 07.11, 09.42
372 port 12.05
373 procession 12.04, 14.00
374 prostitution sacrée 11.06
375 prytanée 09.43
376 quadrige 07.12
377 relief : 07.08, 09.14, 09.37, 12.03 frise d’autel 09.37 pinax 13.05 rupestre 12.02 votif 08.00 (voir stèle)
378 rite : banquet 11.14 féminin 13.01 funéraire 07.00, 07.04, 07.07, 09.11-12, 11.15 libation 09.33, 11.15 offrande de cheveux 09.36 ordalique 14.04 de passage 07.00, 08.01, 09.36, 11.14 plèmochoai 09.33 purification 14.04 repas 09.32, 14.04, 14.12 repas funéraire 09.11 repas sacrificiel 09.45 restructuration 13.03 vase rituel 09.28 (voir culte, sacrifice)
379 roi : 07.00, 11.00, 11.09 apothéose 11.09 famille royale 07.00 (voir Noms de personnes)
380 sacrifice : 07.17, 09.45, 11.09, 14.04, 14.12 cuisson de la viande des animaux 14.03 de fondation 09.28
381 sanctuaire – événements : démantèlement 13.05 déplacement 07.00 destruction par les chrétiens 07.19 destruction par incendie 09.27 effondrement du temple 13.05 fondation 09.28 restructuration 13.03 transformation en église 09.33-34, 12.04
382 sanctuaire – architecture et structures : adyton 09.28 antéfixe 13.01, 14.07 in antis 09.27 arbre sacré 05.01 architrave 09.34 11.09 archives 12.01 autel de cendre 07.17 Autel de cornes 09.19 bains 07.16 banc 09.32, 09.48 banquette 14.04 bassin 12.03 bétyle 09.45 borne 09.16-17, 11.09, 12.07 bothros 09.33, 11.12, 12.11, 14.04 canal 09.49 canalisation 14.04 carrière 12.11 cella 09.27-28, 09.33 chapiteau 09.34, 11.09 chapiteau hathorique 11.09 citerne 09.28, 09.48-49 collecte des eaux 07.15 colonnade 14.04 colonne 09.34, 11.09 conduite d’eau 09.01 cour 09.48 cour centrale 09.42 creusement 09.49 dorique 05.02, 07.00, 09.06, 09.09, 09.34, 11.09, 13.05, 14.04 eau 09.23, 09.28 enkoimeterion 05.02 entrée 11.09, 14.04 escalier de procession 12.04 eschara 09.45 exèdre 09.28 fosse 09.33, 09.45, 14.09 fossé 09.33 gouttière 09.34 grotte 07.15, 08.00, 09.14, 09.31, 09.40, 14.04 hestiatorion 14.04 hutte 09.33 hypèthre 05.05, 09.45 ionique 07.00, 09.34, 12.10 krépis 09.01, 09.27 lac 14.04 maison sacrée 05.01 marbre 09.34 megaron 07.18 métope 07.00, 09.27, 14.11 naïskos 13.02 naos distyle in antis 05.02 oikos 09.28 pavage 12.08 péribole 09.12, 09.28, 09.32, 09.45 périptère 07.00, 09.34 de plein air 08.01 podium 12.10 porche
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09.33 porte 09.45, 09.50 portique 05.02, 09.28, 12.08 pronaos 09.33 propylées 09.27 prostyle 12.10 pyrè 09.32 09.45 récupération des eaux de pluie 09.49 salle de banquets 07.10 sèkos 09.27 seuil 09.45 soubassement 12.04 source 09.32, 12.03 stoa 05.01, 09.26, 14.04 temenos 09.28, 12.08, 14.03-04 temple 05.01 tétrastyle 09.25, 09.27 11.09 thesauros 05.01-02 théâtre 05.02 tholos 09.26 trésor 09.43 triglyphe 09.27-28 tuile translucide 09.33 tumulus 09.45 voie sacrée 12.08
383 sanctuaire – types : agraire 09.03 Aphrodision 09.21 Artémision 05.07 Asclépieion 05.02, 09.06, 09.09, 09.36 Délion 09.14 09.31 fédéral 14.04 de frontière 11.10 Héraion 09.22 hèrôon 09.46 hors les murs 05.07 indigène 11.08 Kératôn 09.19 Néôrion 09.24 nymphée 11.00 12.06 Poseideion 07.17 rural 11.03, 11.10 rupestre 12.02-03 Sebasteion 07.10 Sérapieion 09.26 telestèrion 09.28, 09.33 Thesmophorion 07.18, 09.34, 09.37, 09.45, 14.00 urbain 11.00
384 sarcophage 11.09
385 sphinx 11.00
386 statue : 07.08, 09.13, 11.05, 11.09, 11.12, 12.05 aigle 07.08 base 05.01, 05.06, 12.07 bronze 05.01 buste 14.06 colossale 09.28, 11.12, 12.06 de culte 09.41 exposition 05.01 honorifique 05.01 korè 11.09 kouros 09.32 11.09 sphinx 11.09 temple boy 11.00, 11.06 (voir figurine)
387 stèle : funéraire 05.06, 09.11 hermaïque 09.41 naïskos 05.06 votive 07.01-02, 08.00 (voir relief)
388 théâtre 07.21, 09.02, 09.20, 11.00
389 thermes 07.13
390 thiase 11.04
391 végétaux : amandes 09.05 orge 09.45
392 vêtement 11.12
NOTES
1. Je remercie chaleureusement Sandrine Huber, adjointe aux publication de l’E.F.A. d’avoir accepté de me communiquer le texte de cette Chronique encore sous presse.
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Chronique des activités scientifiques
Revue des livres
Kernos, 22 | 2009 290
Chronique des activités scientifiques
Revue des livres
Compte rendu critique
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Le sacrifice en questions*
Stéphanie Paul
RÉFÉRENCE
Véronique MEHL, Pierre BRULÉ (dir.), Le sacrifice antique. Vestiges, procédures et stratégies,
F0 Rennes, Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2008. 1 vol. 15,5 B4 24 cm, 276 p. (Collection « Histoire »). ISBN : 978-2-7535-0668-8. Eftychia STAVRIANOPOULOU, Axel MICHAELS, Claus AMBOS (éds), Transformations in Sacrificial Practices. From Antiquity to Modern Times. Proceedings of an International F0 Colloquium, Heidelberg, 12-14 July 2006, Berlin, LIT Verlag, 2008. 1 vol. 16 B4 23,5 cm, 310 p. (Performanzen, 15). ISBN : 978-3-8258-1095-5.
1 Affirmer que le sacrifice est une procédure centrale dans le système religieux en Grèce ancienne est désormais une lapalissade. À ce titre, il a déjà fait couler beaucoup d’encre, mais son étude reste encore et toujours au cœur des préoccupations, et les approches ou méthodes pour l’affronter ne cessent d’être questionnées ou renouvelées. En témoignent deux ouvrages collectifs, publiés en 2008, qui envisagent, d’une manière toutefois bien différente, l’étude des pratiques sacrificielles.
Le sacrifice antique. Vestiges, procédures et stratégies
2 Ce premier volume rassemble les actes de la IVe Celtic Conference in Classics tenue à Lampeter en 2006 sur le thème du sacrifice dans les mondes grec et romain. Comme l’annoncent d’emblée dans leur courte introduction les deux éditeurs, Véronique Mehl et Pierre Brulé, le livre s’ancre dans la lignée de l’ouvrage francophone de référence sur le thème, La Cuisine du sacrifice en pays grec, paru en 19791. L’objectif de cette rencontre était de reprendre le dossier sacrificiel, en posant d’anciens et de nouveaux problèmes, et en prenant davantage en compte les sources archéologiques et iconographiques, qui n’avaient que partiellement été affrontées il y a 30 ans.
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3 Le livre s’ouvre sur une préface de Robert Parker, qui pose la question de la définition du sacrifice, et l’ensemble compte 14 contributions, réparties en trois parties inégales, et qui vont de la période archaïque à l’Antiquité tardive. C’est le monde grec qui est largement privilégié puisqu’il est au centre de dix de ces études. La première partie reprend des articles se fondant sur l’étude des vestiges, à savoir les sources archéologiques ou iconographiques, les suivantes s’organisent autour des thèmes du hiereion pour la deuxième, et des procédures sacrificielles pour la dernière.
« Interroger les vestiges »
4 L’apport de l’archéologie représente sans doute la plus grande innovation de ces dernières années dans l’étude des questions sacrificielles. Aussi, les deux premières contributions étudient un rituel connu uniquement par les sources archéologiques. Elles fournissent de beaux exemples de la difficulté d’interprétation qui se pose quand aucun lien n’est possible avec les sources écrites, et de la nécessité, pour y voir clair, de prendre également en compte les contextes topographiques et religieux des sanctuaires dans lesquels ces rituels prennent place.
5 Ioanna Patera, dans un article intitulé « Vestiges sacrificiels et vestiges d’offrandes dans les purai d’Éleusis », réexamine le dossier des bûchers (purai) du sanctuaire de Déméter et Corè à Éleusis, découverts dès la fin du XIXe siècle et dans la première moitié du XXe, et inconnus des sources écrites. Elle se place d’emblée à l’encontre de l’interprétation « chthonienne » de K. Kokkou-Vyridi, selon laquelle les sacrifices pratiqués sur ces bûchers auraient été de type héroïque ou funéraire. P. souligne en effet la difficulté d’identifier le destinataire de ces rituels. Selon elle, c’est par la topographie du sanctuaire et l’histoire de son évolution que le dossier doit être élucidé. Elle conclut donc de la place des purai que ceux-ci accueillaient des rites préliminaires, accomplis au cours de la procession qui menait à la terrasse du temple.
6 Dans sa contribution « L’analyse d’un rituel sacrificiel dans le Sarapeion C de Délos », Hélène Siard s’attache à l’interprétation du rituel sacrificiel associé à un autel creux découvert en 2001 dans le Sarapieion C de Délos. Elle constate que deux types de sacrifice y étaient pratiqués : des thusiai normales de mammifères, dont des quartiers de viandes étaient déposés sur l’autel, et des holocaustes de volaille. D’après ces données, et en examinant le contexte topographique et religieux du sanctuaire – les divinités du Sarapieion C étaient honorées comme dieux guérisseurs –, S. suggère une interprétation « médicale » du rituel en question.
7 La contribution de Sébastien Lepetz et de William Van Andringa, « Pour une archéologie du sacrifice à l’époque romaine », se penche également sur les ossements d’animaux mis au jour dans les sanctuaires, mais dans une perspective plus méthodologique. Les auteurs nous offrent une bonne mise au point des problèmes que peut susciter l’interprétation des données zooarchéologiques pour l’étude du sacrifice à l’époque romaine – mais ces réflexions sont en grande partie également valables pour le monde grec2 –, illustrée par de nombreux exemples de tout le monde romain. Ils insistent sur le fait que les ossements animaux peuvent nous fournir des informations précieuses sur toutes les phases du sacrifice à condition qu’ils fassent l’objet d’un traitement minutieux et que soit pris en compte le contexte archéologique de leur découverte.
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8 Ce sont ensuite les images qui sont au centre de deux articles, l’un sur l’Étrurie et l’autre sur Rome. Laurent Hugot, dans son article « À propos des gras Tyrrhéniens qui devant l’autel soufflaient dans l’ivoire. Les représentations de musiciens autour des autels en Étrurie », souligne le contraste entre l’importance bien connue de la musique chez les Étrusques et le petit nombre de représentations de musiciens dans les scènes sacrificielles. En passant en revue ces dernières, il constate que les deux instruments les plus représentés sont la cithara et l’aulos, apparemment joués principalement par des professionnels et dans un contexte particulier, à savoir les sacrifices caprins et funéraires. Valérie Huet, dans « Des femmes au sacrifice : quelques images romaines », étudie les vingt-quatre images figurant des femmes dans des scènes sacrificielles à Rome. Malgré leur faible représentation, elle constate qu’une variété de figures sont présentes dans toutes les phases du sacrifice, à l’exception de la litatio, et qu’elles n’y occupent pas un rôle uniquement passif.
Hiereion
9 La deuxième partie comporte trois contributions qui ont pour thème l’animal sacrificiel et qui se fondent plus particulièrement sur les sources littéraires.
10 La première, « Le hiereion, phusis et psuchè d’un medium » de Pierre Brulé et Rachel Touzé, est une version légèrement modifiée d’une étude qui avait déjà paru dans La Grèce d’à côté, ouvrage de 2007 qui reprend divers articles de P. Brulé3. En guise de préambule, les auteurs attirent justement l’attention sur un problème de vocabulaire : la traduction du mot grec hiereion par « victime » est inadéquate et implique une notion de culpabilité qui est absente du mot grec. C’est du point de vue de l’arrière-plan mental qu’est abordée ici la question de l’hiereion, ce qui suppose que l’étude se fonde principalement sur les sources littéraires, mais n’en est pas moins une excellente synthèse sur le sujet. Elle est articulée en deux volets intitulés « le choix des hommes » et « le choix des dieux ». Les A. commentent le processus de transformation (kathierôsis, consécration) qui préside au passage de l’animal dans la sphère divine. Ce sont ensuite les qualités requises pour que le sacrifice soit agréé par les dieux qui sont abordées : la pureté, la perfection et l’intégrité, tant au niveau du corps, que de l’âme. Les A. discutent encore l’association, souvent difficile à définir, entre l’animal et la divinité, et particulièrement l’exemple des sacrifices caprins en contexte oraculaire. Enfin, ils concluent ce parcours sur l’hiereion en en commentant longuement un type bien particulier, ce qu’ils appellent les automatoi, c’est-à-dire les animaux qui se présentent spontanément pour être sacrifiés, une notion qui sera reprise dans l’article suivant.
11 Stella Georgoudi, dans son article « Le consentement de la victime sacrificielle : une question ouverte », reprend le thème de l’occultation de la violence dans le sacrifice grec, thème qu’elle avait déjà abordé et largement remis en question dans une contribution d’un autre ouvrage collectif paru en 20054. G. développe ici plus particulièrement un point qu’elle avait alors laissé de côté, le consentement de la victime, qui serait lié à une certaine culpabilité que les Grecs auraient éprouvée à l’égard de la mise à mort d’un animal. Elle rappelle que ce topos avait déjà été mis en doute par F. van Straten qui avait constaté sa faible importance dans l’iconographie. L’argumentation très convaincante de G. tient au fait que ce thème n’est selon elle que très peu attesté dans la littérature, et chaque fois dans un contexte spécifique : les récits de Porphyre s’inscrivent dans une idéologie particulière qui prône le régime
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végétarien, et Plutarque relate un sacrifice préalable à la consultation de l’oracle de Delphes. Par ailleurs, elle écarte de ce dossier tous les témoignages concernant les victimes volontaires qui sont venus l’étoffer. Ces animaux seraient en effet animés par une volonté divine, et ces épisodes relèveraient davantage du prodige, sans témoigner d’une culpabilité face à la mort de la victime.
12 L’étude de Christophe Lafon, « Un organisme interne semblable au chaudron du sacrifice », part de l’interrogation que la consommation du porc ne constitue pas un tabou en Grèce à la différence de civilisations voisines du Proche-Orient. Il argumente en faveur d’une comparaison entre le système digestif du porc, tel que les Grecs le percevaient, et le chaudron du sacrifice. Le premier permettait à l’animal de transformer les aliments ingérés en aliments « hautement valorisés », et le second, grâce à un processus de cuisson par ébullition, rendait les viandes crues consommables pour l’homme.
Procédures sacrificielles
13 Véronique Mehl, dans une étude intitulée « Parfums de fêtes. Usage de parfums et sacrifices sanglants », examine la place et le rôle qu’occupent les parfums et aromates au sein de la thysia, en se fondant à la fois sur les sources littéraires, épigraphiques et surtout iconographiques. Elle commente l’offrande de parfums de Séleucos Ier au sanctuaire d’Apollon à Didymes, puis se concentre sur l’usage de parfums dans le rituel sacrificiel, et plus particulièrement dans la procession, dont elle passe en revue les occurrences iconographiques, ainsi que les objets et parfums qui y étaient utilisés. Selon son interprétation, cette offrande de parfums contribue à délimiter l’espace et le temps du sacrifice et de la fête, et doit être vue comme une manière de se purifier et de manifester la présence divine. M. commente ensuite les images du corpus des Frauenfest, témoignages de l’utilisation de parfums dans un contexte de fêtes féminines. Elle conclut sur le constat que, en plus de participer à la définition de l’espace sacrificiel, ces offrandes de parfums représentent une médiation avec les dieux, qui n’est toutefois pas complète, puisque les odeurs sont, selon les mots de l’A., « totalement du côté du divin », et, même si elles ne sont pas sans effet sur les hommes, elles leur sont moins profitables que l’animal sacrifié qui peut être consommé.
14 Athanassia Zografou, avec « Prescriptions sacrificielles dans les papyri magiques », nous offre une étude sur un thème qui a été peu traité comme tel auparavant. En guise d’introduction, elle relaie – et met parfois en doute – les opinions des quelques chercheurs qui se sont intéressés au sens du sacrifice dans un contexte magique. Après avoir passé en revue une série de termes grecs associés aux pratiques sacrificielles dans le corpus des papyrus magiques, Z. s’attache longuement au contenu des offrandes animales, de parfums ou aromates, ou encore de plantes. Elle constate que les sacrifices animaux sont assez rares, même si elle observe une certaine prédilection pour les oiseaux, et semble mettre cela en relation avec l’abstinence de viande prescrite aux officiants pour des raisons de pureté. Selon elle, ces animaux n’étaient pas sacrifiés dans un but alimentaire, mais en vue de l’utilisation de leur « souffle vital ». L’A. s’attache ensuite à la signification du sacrifice en question. Elle se positionne à l’encontre de la définition de F. Graf, qui l’interprète comme un don à la divinité, en soulignant qu’il constitue également un important moyen de contrainte. Enfin, elle commente le lien qui unit sacrifice et écriture, avant de conclure en proposant sa
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définition du sacrifice dans le contexte des papyrus magiques, et en rappelant que celui-ci n’était pas indispensable et qu’il ne constituait pas la seule pratique. L’analogie avec l’écriture lui permet en outre de suggérer que les préparations avaient pris le pas sur l’acte rituel en lui-même.
15 C’est la question de l’identité du destinataire et de sa relation avec le rituel qui ouvre l’article d’Emma Stafford, « Cocks to Asklepios: sacrificial practice and healing cult ». Celle-ci se penche en premier lieu sur l’iconographie d’Asclépios et sur la signification de ses attributs, avant d’examiner les types de sacrifices qui lui étaient offerts. Même si S. constate une réelle variété dans les offrandes et les animaux sacrifiés, c’est le coq qui semble être la norme, peut-être en raison de sa nature modeste. Elle remarque également qu’Asclépios reçoit, la plupart du temps, une thusia normale, mais que certains rituels accomplis en son honneur laissent transparaître un indice de sa double nature mortelle/divine : c’est le cas des sacrifices où il y a une destruction partielle ou ceux dont la viande doit être consommée au sein du sanctuaire. S. met ces prescriptions sacrificielles en parallèle avec l’iconographie d’Asclépios, généralement associée à son statut divin, mais qui comporte des références aux mythes héroïques. Enfin, elle souligne la grande étendue du culte au niveau privé et familial, au-delà de son aspect public important.
16 Anne Jacquemin, dans une contribution intitulée « La participation in abstentia au sacrifce », examine les témoignages épigraphiques de cet honneur et s’interroge sur sa signification au sein d’un rituel communautaire tel que l’était le sacrifice. Selon son interprétation, la cité offrait à un individu un animal à sacrifier afin qu’il puisse en retirer les bénéfices à la fois religieux et matériels, même s’il ne résidait pas dans la cité. Concernant l’attribution des parts d’honneur du sacrifice à l’individu honoré, J. reconnaît que la question de la façon de procéder dans la pratique est difficile à élucider. Certaines découvertes archéologiques assurent l’existence de conserves de viande, mais on peut également supposer que ces portions étaient vendues et le bénéfice envoyé à l’intéressé.
17 On pourra peut-être déplorer, dans l’article de M.P.J. Dillon, « “Xenophon sacrificed on account of an expedition:” divination and the sphagia before ancient Greek battles », l’absence d’une structure précise. L’A., au moyen des témoignages littéraires et iconographiques, traite surtout de l’importance de la divination dans les sphagia. Il rejette ainsi l’interprétation psychologique d’A. Henrichs5 (dont il eût été utile de donner au moins une fois la référence complète !), qui donnait aux sphagia la fonction principale de préparation au combat. Concernant les destinataires des rituels, D. s’oppose cette fois à M. Jameson, qui était d’avis que la divinité avait moins d’importance que l’acte lui-même, et argumente en faveur de l’identification d’Artémis comme divinité par excellence à laquelle étaient adressés les sphagia.
18 Enfin, l’article de Chiara Cremonesi, « Sacrifice and Ascesis: the Taboo of Meat and the Holy Child », nous emmène dans l’Antiquité tardive et dans la Vie ancienne de Symeon le jeune, cet ascète chrétien qui vécut dans la région d’Antioche au VIe siècle de notre ère. C. traite ainsi du thème du refus du sacrifice païen, et de la consommation des viandes, au nom de la kathara thysia, le sacrifice du Christ sur la croix.
19 En conclusion, Le sacrifice antique. Vestiges, procédures et stratégies est, dans l’ensemble, un très bon ouvrage, qui propose une variété de thèmes et d’approches. En ce sens, il remplit largement ses objectifs de départ, dans la mesure où il élargit le champ de réflexion de La Cuisine du sacrifice, dans le prolongement duquel il s’inscrivait d’emblée.
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On regrettera toutefois l’absence d’une bibliographie d’orientation générale, qui aurait repris les publications récentes sur le sujet, et qui se justifiait par la cohérence de l’espace chronologique et géographique étudié.
La dynamique du sacrifice
20 L’ouvrage Transformations in Sacrificial Practices from Antiquity to Modern Times reprend les actes d’un colloque international organisé en juillet 2006 par le centre de recherche « Ritualdynamik » de l’Université d’Heidelberg. Et de fait, le thème s’inscrit pleinement dans les activités et intérêts de ce centre important. Les 12 études, classées en trois parties thématiques, couvrent un champ chronologique et géographique très large, puisqu’elles nous emmènent de l’Antiquité à l’époque contemporaine, et de la Méditerranée à l’Asie du sud-est en passant par le Proche-Orient et l’Inde.
21 Dans son introduction, Eftychia Stavrianopoulou explicite plus précisément les objectifs de cette rencontre. Il s’agit de remettre en cause l’applicabilité d’une théorie unique sur le sacrifice, qui ne peut rendre compte de toute la complexité des rituels ou de la flexibilité du système. Le point de vue qui a donc été choisi ici pour aborder le sacrifice est celui des changements, des transformations, qui sont opérés au sein de ce système. S. souligne encore que la pluralité des cultures et des périodes envisagées dans ce volume n’est pas un prétexte à une étude comparatiste, mais que l’objectif était davantage de mettre en évidence une variété de conceptions, de modèles et surtout des « processus dynamiques comparables » (p. 5).
22 Avec son article intitulé « Burnt, cooked or raw? Divine and human culinary desires at Greek animal sacrifice », Gunnel Ekroth nous offre une très bonne synthèse sur le traitement de l’animal après le sacrifice grec, de l’époque archaïque à l’époque hellénistique, du point de vue plus précisément de la relation qui s’établit entre la sphère humaine et la sphère divine. Cette contribution pourra être éventuellement complétée avec un autre article paru récemment, où elle envisage plus largement le partage de la victime sacrificielle6. E. se penche en premier lieu sur les parties de l’animal qui étaient brûlées sur l’autel en offrande aux dieux. Elle revient à cette occasion sur les sacrifices où était brûlée la totalité de la victime, les holocaustes, ou une partie plus importante que la normale, ce que Scott Scullion avait judicieusement qualifié de « moirocaustes ». Elle met en doute la pertinence d’une distinction olympien/chthonien pour expliquer ces sacrifices particuliers, qui étaient par ailleurs assez peu pratiqués, et le plus souvent comme rite préliminaire d’une thysia. Elle préfère les interpréter par le degré d’intensité du rituel, ces sacrifices de haute intensité étant alors accomplis lors d’un contexte particulier (en temps de crise par exemple), ou pour des destinataires précis. Ensuite, la consommation des splanchna définit le cercle des principaux participants au sacrifice, mais relient également les hommes à la divinité, puisque c’est sur son autel que ceux-ci sont grillés et qu’elle y participe occasionnellement. Enfin, l’A. traite des parties de viande qui sont offertes aux dieux en plus de la partie brûlée sur l’autel. Elle distingue à ce propos deux formes de rituels, les trapezomata, où des morceaux de chair crue sont déposés sur une table à l’intention du dieu, et la theoxenia, où le dieu est invité à manger à la table des hommes. En reprenant les mythes où une telle commensalité entre les hommes et les dieux est exprimée, elle constate que ceux-ci ne sont pas reflétés dans les pratiques cultuelles, qui ne visent nullement à « tromper » les dieux sur la nourriture qui leur est offerte. E.
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conclut en disant que le sacrifice grec souligne la distinction entre les hommes mortels et les dieux immortels, distance qui est toutefois « négociée » au moyen de la consommation des splanchna, ou des offrandes de parts supplémentaires de viande, sans être complètement réduite puisque ces actions rituelles marquent la supériorité des dieux soit par la qualité, soit par le mode de cuisson des morceaux qui leur sont donnés.
23 Margo Kitts, dans « Funeral sacrifices and ritual leitmotifs in Iliad 23 », se penche sur la signification du rituel funéraire en l’honneur de Patrocle au chant XXIII de l’Iliade. Après un résumé de la scène, l’A. passe en revue les différents éléments auxquels on a traditionnellement recours pour interpréter ce passage, à savoir les témoignages archéologiques des tombes provenant de l’époque géométrique, les rituels accomplis en l’honneur des héros, ou l’influence de récits hittites mettant en scène des funérailles royales. Ces composantes lui semblent toutefois difficiles à percevoir au travers du filtre poétique. Pour expliquer cet épisode, K. propose alors une théorie intéressante, selon laquelle les scènes qui reflètent un « archétype de performance rituelle » sont caractérisées par leur « fixité » : elles témoignent en effet d’une pauvreté de langage figuratif, d’une abondance de détails et de précision, et comportent une séquence fixe de vers. Ainsi, dans l’épisode des funérailles de Patrocle, elle identifie deux parties distinctes. La première est la scène de la fête précédant la crémation, qui comporte le sacrifice de nombreux bœufs blancs, et la seconde, la scène de crémation proprement dite. Cette dernière serait, selon K., davantage le reflet d’anciens rituels car elle s’avère avoir été peu modifiée par le style poétique, tandis que la première, interrompue à plusieurs reprises par un leitmotiv du serment, semble témoigner d’un « ordre liturgique » plus faible.
24 Dans « Opferkritik, Opferverbote und propaganditische Opfer », Burkhard Gladigow émet diverses considérations sur le sacrifice sanglant dans la Méditerranée ancienne, particulièrement à Rome, sur l’interdiction dont il a fait l’objet au IVe siècle de notre ère par les Chrétiens, sur la tentative de restauration par l’empereur Julien, et sur son utilisation à des fins de propagande par les autorités successivement en place. Via l’exemple de l’ex-voto, il examine d’abord l’intégration du sacrifice animal dans une séquence rituelle et dans un contexte culturel. Le sacrifice fait partie, selon lui, d’un système de récompenses, où les hommes sacrifient à une divinité en échange d’un service qu’elle pourra lui rendre. Il étudie encore son lien avec la divination à l’époque romaine. L’interdiction du sacrifice sanglant reposait notamment sur l’idée de l’innocence de la victime (Codex Theodosianus 16, 10, 10). À ce propos, G. commente longuement un extrait des Fastes d’Ovide qui témoigne d’une faute de l’animal à l’origine du sacrifice. Il revient également sur la théorie de l’occultation de la violence (la « comédie de l’innocence » de Karl Meuli) et le prétendu consentement de la victime. Il nous faut cependant noter ici que ces théories ont été remises en question tout dernièrement par Stella Georgoudi7. L’A. se penche encore sur les diverses critiques émises à l’encontre du sacrifice sanglant, d’Empédocle à l’Orphisme, jusqu’à son interdiction proprement dite, qui constitue une étape essentielle de l’épuration des pratiques religieuses dites « païennes ».
25 Joachim F. Quack, dans un article qui porte le titre « Spuren ägyptischer Opfertheologie bei Jamblich? », argumente en faveur de la présence d’un arrière-plan cultuel égyptien dans le traité De Mysteriis de Jamblique, qui est habituellement interprété par le néo- platonisme ou les oracles chaldaïques. Il passe ainsi en revue différents thèmes du traité où il décèle une influence égyptienne, comme la notion de « sympathie » ou de
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feu destructeur, les prières, la matière utilisée comme réceptacle d’une divinité, ou encore les prescriptions de pureté. On pourra toutefois souligner ici, davantage que ne le fait l’A., à quel point ces prescriptions sont fréquentes également dans le monde grec8. Q. souligne encore que cet arrière-plan, reflet d’une bonne connaissance des réalités égyptiennes de la part de l’auteur du traité, côtoie très souvent des références à une pensée philosophique ou aux traités hermétiques.
26 Dans sa contribution « Teure Ideologie – billige Praxis. Die “kleinen” Opfer in der römischen Kaiserzeit », Christoph Auffarth se penche sur un point des religions antiques qui est, selon lui, trop souvent négligé dans la recherche actuelle : les sacrifices non-sanglants. Il remet d’ailleurs en cause la vision moderne qui fait du sacrifice sanglant la « quintessence » du rituel. A. examine ensuite les différents types de ces sacrifices, à savoir les offrandes d’huile, de cierges, de libations et d’encens, d’argent ou de nourriture, et examine leur utilisation et leur signification dans les contextes grecs, romains ou chrétiens. Selon lui, l’économie du sacrifice doit être interprétée comme un échange, où les hommes font des offrandes à une divinité pour obtenir sa protection. Il rejoint en ce point la position exprimée par B. Gladigow (voir supra). A. insiste encore sur le fait que ces offrandes ne sont pas uniquement accomplies dans le cadre d’un sacrifice animal, comme rite préliminaire par exemple, mais qu’elles constituent un rituel indépendant avec une signification propre, qui restera important après la disparition de ce dernier.
27 Hubert Roeder, dans une longue étude intitulée « Mundöffnung und rituelle Feindtötung. Die soziomorphe Definition eines altägyptischen Vernichtungsopfer », se consacre au rituel d’ouverture de la bouche dans le culte funéraire égyptien. Après une description détaillée des différentes scènes du rituel, qui a pour but la consécration d’une statue d’un défunt, il examine plus particulièrement la partie qui lui semble centrale, à savoir le sacrifice. Un bœuf, qui est présenté comme l’ennemi du défunt, était mis à mort et une de ses cuisses lui était donnée en offrande. R. remonte ensuite jusqu’au culte funéraire royal de l’Ancien Empire, et met en évidence l’idéologie sous- jacente à ce sacrifice. Le roi, qui ne pouvait mourir de mort naturelle ou de maladie, était nécessairement tué par un adversaire politique. Par conséquent, la mort de la victime, qui était perçue comme son ennemi et rendue responsable de sa mort, permettait la « renaissance » du roi dans l’Au-delà, par le biais de la vengeance.
28 Dans sa contribution intitulée « Den Gott ernähren. Überlegungen zum regelmäßigen Opfer in altorientalischen Tempeln », Stefan M. Maul se consacre à l’étude du rituel qui consiste à « nourrir les dieux » dans le Proche-Orient ancien, non du point de vue de la représentation du divin qui y est sous-jacente, mais du point de vue de l’organisation humaine qu’il génère. En examinant l’importance de ce rituel dans la littérature, il remarque qu’il est reflété dans les mythes de création de l’humanité. Ce rituel est l’objet d’un don de toute la communauté, avec des intervenants ou des produits d’origine parfois lointaine, et est piloté par le roi qui joue un rôle de médiateur entre les hommes et les dieux. M. l’interprète donc comme un rituel créateur d’identité, qui unit non seulement les hommes avec les dieux, mais aussi les hommes entre eux au sein d’une communauté, et qui participe dès lors à la stabilité de l’empire.
29 Dans une brève contribution intitulée « Sacrifice and Ritual Dynamic – A Model », Theodore Kwasman offre une tentative d’approche plus théorique du sacrifice. Il étudie ainsi l’évolution du judaïsme dans le contexte des religions du Proche-Orient ancien, du point de vue des trois moyens d’expression et de représentation du divin dans le
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Proche-Orient, à savoir l’image, la localisation et la maintenance du culte. K. démontre ainsi comment l’absence de représentations divines entraîne la réduction des deux autres éléments. Dans un premier temps, le sacrifice devient central et la prêtrise est conservée, puis on aboutit à une préservation symbolique du culte et à la substitution du sacrifice par les textes et la prière.
30 Deux études anthropologiques sont centrées sur un rituel sacrificiel qui a pour origine un sacrifice humain. Dans la première, intitulée « Sacrificing in Highland Orissa: Self- Reproduction and Dependency », Roland Hardenberg examine la syntaxe et la sémantique du rituel des meria de la tribu des Kond, dans les montagnes de l’Orissa en Inde. Ce rituel est le résultat d’une évolution d’un sacrifice humain vers un sacrifice animal, celui d’un buffle, sous la pression des colons anglais, et a été traditionnellement interprété comme un rituel de fertilité, en remerciement de la récolte. H. prend également en compte le contexte social particulier pour expliquer les particularités du rituel, par rapport à d’autres versions voisines, comme par exemple la place qu’y occupe la violence. Par ailleurs, il interprète de manière générale les meria par l’idée de reproduction, d’une part au sein du clan et de son territoire, et d’autre part dans la conquête d’autres territoires. Sous le titre quelque peu intrigant « From Human Sacrifice to Cigarettes and Coke », Alexandra Kraatz décrit l’évolution des rituels sacrificiels du Minahasa, au nord du Sulawesi, en Indonésie. Ces rituels ont subi diverses variations au cours du temps à cause de l’influence des colons hollandais et de la religion chrétienne, introduite dans la région par les missionnaires, mais également en raison du changement du mode de vie et de l’influence de la société ambiante. K. montre comment les habitants de Minahasa sont parvenus à intégrer ces diverses influences dans la pratique de leurs cultes traditionnels des ancêtres, et comment les chasses aux têtes et sacrifices humains ont laissé la place à des offrandes plus modernes, issues de leur mode de vie actuel.
31 L’étude de Robert Langer, intitulée « The Alevi Animal Sacrifice (Kurban) Between Professionalisation and Substitution », porte sur les changements provoqués par les processus de migration et d’urbanisation des communautés des Alévis dans la structure du rituel sacrificiel. Après une série de remarques préliminaires sur le vocabulaire attaché au rituel et un bref historique de l’alévisme, l’A. examine ces phénomènes de migration et d’urbanisation, qui entraînent d’une part la création de centres culturels urbains comportant les infrastructures nécessaires pour l’accomplissement du sacrifice et du repas qui suit, ce qui suppose une certaine professionnalisation du rituel. D’autre part, dans des contextes où le sacrifice animal est condamné (comme par exemple en Allemagne), on assiste à des modifications du rite : le sacrifice est ainsi remplacé par la consommation de repas faits maison ou achetés, ou par d’autres formes de sacrifices personnels. Toutefois, ces variations dans le rituel ne changent rien à l’idéologie qui le sous-tend, à savoir le partage d’un repas au sein d’une communauté.
32 Dans « Selbstmord – Attentat – Opfer. Das palästinensische Beispiel », Suzanne Enderwitz explore l’évolution du concept de « martyre » dans l’Islam, depuis le Coran, où il a subi une certaine influence du christianisme, jusqu’à nos jours, où il est intimement lié au phénomène des attentats-suicide. E. étudie ensuite plus particulièrement l’exemple du conflit israélo-palestinien, et la manière dont l’interaction entre la société et la notion de martyre a renforcé le développement d’un sentiment nationaliste palestinien.
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33 De ce volume, il ressort généralement que les rituels sacrificiels, indépendamment du contexte culturel ou historique dans lesquels ils sont accomplis, sont tout sauf immuables. Par conséquent, le point de vue des « transformations » adopté ici est particulièrement approprié à leur étude. Par ailleurs, la diversité des cultures envisagées, si elle éloigne quelque peu du sacrifice antique, permet d’ouvrir des perspectives extrêmement intéressantes. Pour ces raisons, auxquelles on peut ajouter la bonne qualité dans l’ensemble des contributions qui le composent, Transformations in Sacrificial Practices from Antiquity to Modern Times est un ouvrage tout à fait recommandable. *
34 En dépit de leurs différences, tant dans l’approche que dans le champ chronologique ou géographique envisagé, ces deux ouvrages partagent l’objectif de donner un nouveau souffle à l’étude du sacrifice. Le premier exprime cette intention en référence au maître-ouvrage sur le sujet qu’est La Cuisine du sacrifice et accorde à ce titre une place importante aux nouveaux types de sources qui ont fait grandement avancer la recherche depuis la parution de ce livre en 1979. Il n’y est, en revanche, pas question de refonder une quelconque « théorie » du sacrifice grec, quelques articles mettant même à mal certaines approches théoriques à l’œuvre dans la Cuisine. À l’époque, Detienne et Vernant souhaitaient arracher l’étude du sacrifice grec aux théories générales sur le sacrifice héritées de la fin du XIXe et du début du XXe siècle, en le replaçant au sein de la culture spécifique à laquelle il appartenait. Le deuxième volume ici recensé contribue lui aussi à interroger la pertinence d’une « théorie du sacrifice », dont le caractère forcément général ne peut rendre justice ni à la complexité du rituel, ni à sa flexibilité, ni à la diversité des contextes. La « comparaison » inévitable à la diversité des cultures présentées n’a donc pas pour objectif d’en dégager des principes généraux universels sur le sacrifice. Au contraire, de nombreuses études mettent bien en évidence à quel point la contextualisation des rituels est indispensable à leur interprétation et à leur compréhension. Toutefois, la simple juxtaposition de telles études n’aurait pas grand intérêt si elle ne pouvait être dépassée. L’approche « dynamique » qui est ici privilégiée permet d’observer une série de processus et de mécanismes comparables dans les variations, les changements, l’évolution des rituels sacrificiels.
NOTES
*. Compte rendu des ouvrages suivants : Véronique MEHL, Pierre BRULÉ (dir.), Le sacrifice antique.
F0 Vestiges, procédures et stratégies, Rennes, Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2008. 1 vol. 15,5 B4 24 cm, 276 p. (Collection « Histoire »). ISBN : 978-2-7535-0668-8, et Eftychia STAVRIANOPOULOU, Axel MICHAELS, Claus AMBOS (éds), Transformations in Sacrificial Practices. From Antiquity to Modern Times. Proceedings of an International Colloquium, Heidelberg, 12-14 July 2006, Berlin, LIT Verlag, 2008. 1 vol.
F0 16 B4 23,5 cm, 310 p. (Performanzen, 15).ISBN : 978-3-8258-1095-5. 1. M. DETIENNE, J.-P. VERNANT, La cuisine du sacrifice en pays grec, Paris, 1979. Un autre récent ouvrage collectif, issu d’une conférence organisée à Paris en 2001, partage le même objectif : St.
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GEORGOUDI, R. KOCH PIETTRE, F. SCHMIDT (éds), La cuisine et l’autel. Les sacrifices en question dans les sociétés de la Méditerranée ancienne, Turnhout, 2005 (Bibliothèque de l’École des Hautes Études – Sciences religieuses, 124). Voir l’article de recension de Gunnel Ekroth sur ce livre et une autre publication touchant aux questions sacrificielles : Kernos 20 (2007), p. 387-399. 2. Pour une approche semblable du côté grec, voir G. EKROTH, « Thighs or Tails? The Osteological Evidence as a Source for Greek Ritual Norms », in P. BRULÉ (éd.), La norme en matière religieuse en Grèce ancienne, Liège, 2009 (Kernos, suppl. 21), p. 125-151. 3. P. BRULÉ, La Grèce d’à côté. Réel et imaginaire en miroir en Grèce antique, Rennes, 2007, p. 283-310. 4. St. GEORGOUDI, « L’ “occultation de la violence” dans le sacrifice grec : données anciennes, discours modernes », in GEORGOUDI, KOCH PIETTRE, SCHMIDT (éds), o.c., p. 115-147. 5. A. HENRICHS, « Human Sacrifice in Greek Religion: Three Case Studies », in O. REVERDIN, B. GRANGE (éds), Le sacrifice dans l’Antiquité, Vandœuvres – Genève, 1980 (Entretiens sur l’Antiquité Classique, 27), p. 195-242. 6. « Meat, man and god. On the division of the animal victim at Greek sacrifices », in Μικρός Ιερομνήμων. Μελέτες εις μνήμην Michael H. Jameson, Athènes, 2008, p. 259-290. 7. Voir supra, p. 1. 8. Voir R. PARKER, Miasma. Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion, Oxford, 1983.
AUTEURS
STÉPHANIE PAUL Université de Liège Département des Sciences de l’Antiquité 7, place du 20-Août BE-4000 LIÈGE [email protected]
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Chronique des activités scientifiques
Revue des livres
Comptes rendus et notices bibliographiques
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Angelo Brelich, Il politeismo
Gabriella Pironti
RÉFÉRENCE
Angelo BRELICH, Il politeismo, a cura di Marcello Massenzio e Andrea Alessandri,
F0 prefazione di Marc Augé, Roma, Editori Riuniti, 2007. 1 vol. 15 B4 21 cm, 143 p. (Opere di Brelich). ISBN : 978-88-359-5986-1.
1 On ne peut que saluer la publication, par les soins de M. Massenzio et A. Alessandri, de la version rédigée du cours donné par Angelo Brelich entre 1957 et 1958 à l’Université de Rome. Ce petit volume est d’autant plus précieux que non seulement il constitue l’occasion de mieux connaître l’œuvre du célèbre historien des religions italien, mais il permet également au lecteur de prendre place dans sa salle de cours et d’en « écouter » presque les réflexions sur le polythéisme, sujet primordial mais peu exploré à l’époque. Ce qui apparaît comme novateur, par rapport aux historiens des religions qui l’ont précédé, est surtout le questionnement choisi par Brelich, qui essaie d’identifier la spécificité de la forme religieuse dénommée « polythéisme », sans la subordonner à la question du monothéisme, et interroge de près la notion de divinité ainsi que la manière dont les divinités au pluriel se structurent dans un panthéon.
2 Dès le premier chapitre, consacré au problème de la formation du polythéisme, Brelich prend ses distances par rapport aux tenants de l’évolutionnisme qui, comme E.B. Tylor, avaient réduit le polythéisme à une simple étape sur le chemin qui, de l’animisme des origines, aurait abouti au monothéisme. Dans le sillage de son maître Raffaele Pettazzoni, il critique tout aussi âprement la thèse du monothéisme primordial, déchu en polythéisme, comme le voulait Wilhelm Schmidt, et revendique la nécessité d’étudier le polythéisme pour lui-même afin d’évaluer correctement les circonstances historiques de ses origines : « senza conoscere, infatti, il fenomeno stesso, è impossibile interpretarlo storicamente » (p. 24). Pour établir les traits caractéristiques du polythéisme en général, Brelich se sert d’un comparatisme tous azimuts et convoque, à côté des religions de l’Antiquité, les polythéismes modernes d’Asie et d’Afrique. Les deux éléments fondamentaux où il reconnaît la spécificité de cette typologie religieuse
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sont, d’un côté, la notion de divinité, trait essentiel que les poly-théismes auraient en commun avec les mono-théismes, et de l’autre, la pluralité organisée des dieux individuels, trait qui en revanche constituerait la différence essentielle entre les premiers et les seconds. Il distingue nettement la divinité, theos (être personnel non humain, ayant une large sphère d’action, actif dans le monde et objet d’un culte) des autres êtres mythiques mais non divins, ancêtres, esprits, etc., aboutissant ainsi à établir une différence de fond entre le polythéisme et les religions « pré-déistiques », qui ne posséderaient pas ou pas encore l’idée de dieu. Il finit par nier, sur cette base, tout caractère primitif au polythéisme, qui lui apparaît en revanche comme l’expression de civilisations ayant atteint un haut niveau de complexité, dans la stratification sociale comme dans la spécialisation des métiers. En revenant, dans la partie conclusive, sur le débat autour de la genèse du polythéisme, Brelich avance des critiques à la thèse diffusionniste qui faisait de la Mésopotamie le berceau de cette typologie religieuse, mais admet la possibilité que les contacts entre différentes civilisations supérieures, notamment dans l’aire méditerranéenne, aient pu contribuer à développer la religion de certaines d’entre elles en direction d’un polythéisme plus affirmé.
3 Il n’est pas le cas d’insister ici sur les contradictions qui parcourent l’exposé de Brelich : en effet, malgré lui, l’historien des religions n’arrive pas à se défaire complètement d’une pensée évolutionniste qui était sans doute dans l’air du temps. En outre, tout attentif qu’il soit à ne pas dissocier la visée comparatiste du respect pour les différentes contextes historiques mis en regard, il reste toutefois dépendant de sa volonté d’identifier des traits communs pour aboutir à une théorie générale du polythéisme, qui se situe de fait en deçà de l’histoire. Mais il ne faut pas oublier non plus que le schématisme de certains arguments est sans doute lié, dans ce cadre précis, à la finalité pédagogique de la démonstration.
4 D’autre part, l’effort théorique qui caractérise la réflexion de Brelich a le mérite indiscutable de porter l’attention sur le problème, toujours actuel, de la représentation du divin dans un système polythéiste, qu’il s’agisse du rapport entre une divinité et ses fonctions ou bien des structures internes des panthéons. En s’inscrivant contre l’interprétation qui voyait dans les dieux de simples projections des éléments naturels, Brelich perçoit clairement la complexité des divinités du polythéisme, qui tissent des relations étroites entre plusieurs éléments et niveaux de la réalité, y compris la nature. À travers le cas du dieu védique Agni, il montre bien que l’ensemble des aspects correspondant à chaque divinité est indissociable d’un contexte historique et culturel donné, où seulement cet ensemble peut retrouver tout son sens, révélant ainsi son organicité interne. Brelich conçoit le panthéon comme une sorte de projection, sur le plan divin, de la manière dont une société se structure, interprète le monde et crée un rapport culturellement réglé avec les aspects « incontrôlables » de la réalité. Le monde divin, tout comme chaque divinité personnelle, apparaît dans cette perspective comme un ensemble organique et cohérent.
5 Brelich s’intéresse moins au fonctionnement du polythéisme qu’au processus qui voit cette forme de religion se traduire en réalité selon ses « tendances » propres et en s’affirmant contre d’autres « tendances », par exemple celles qui appartiennent aux religions « pré-déistiques ». Les tensions qu’il reconnaît dans le polythéisme visent avant tout à la formation des figures divines : la tension vers l’anthropomorphisme, contre le thériomorphisme et l’aniconisme, celle qui aboutit à la cristallisation du
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monde divin en un nombre limité de dieux, contre la prolifération des divinités mineures, celle qui va vers une différentiation nette des profils des dieux et une spécialisation de leurs prérogatives. Ces tendances seraient fonctionnelles à la constitution de divinités bien définies, douées chacune d’une personnalité propre, dont les sphères d’action respectives se délimiteraient nettement les unes par rapport aux autres. La volonté de montrer le polythéisme in fieri aboutit donc chez Brelich à l’image d’un panthéon statique où chaque divinité se définirait par rapport à la case qu’elle vient à occuper à l’issue d’un processus d’individuation, concentration et différentiation. « Ad un antico greco – dit-il – non sarebbe mai venuto in mente di chiedere guarigione o prole ad Ares, né una vittoria in guerra ad Afrodite » (p. 56). Il est toujours risqué d’avoir recours aux « jamais » et aux « toujours » en histoire, et l’étude du polythéisme hellénique ne fait pas exception à cette règle de prudence : en l’occurrence, il est bien des cas où des Grecs ont demandé la victoire en guerre à Aphrodite et, de manière plus générale, de nouvelles données et de récentes analyses sont venues démontrer depuis lors le caractère anachronique du portrait canonique de la « déesse de l’amour ». Mais pour en arriver là, il a fallu le long parcours qui, des études de Georges Dumézil, avec l’introduction de la notion de mode d’action, à celles de Jean-Pierre Vernant, avec le passage de la notion de « personne » à celle de puissance divine, et aux critiques formulées par Marcel Detienne, a conduit à remettre en question tout modèle statique du panthéon grec et à repenser les divinités et les agencements panthéoniques en fonction de leur capacité de se décliner et de se « ré- agencer » suivant les différents contextes.
6 Mais si certains des points de départ et des conclusions de Brelich ne sont plus d’actualité, les réflexions qu’il proposait à ses étudiants sur plusieurs aspects des religions antiques gardent aujourd’hui encore un grand intérêt. S’interrogeant sur les moyens que le polythéisme mettrait en œuvre pour réaliser ses « tendances », il passe en revue le fonctionnement des théonymes et des épiclèses, celui de la représentation anthropomorphe, et donc « genrée », des dieux, et celui de la généalogie, en tant qu’outil fondamental pour définir la place d’un dieu dans le monde divin. Même les aspects les plus significatifs de la vie cultuelle lui apparaissent avant tout comme des moyens voués à définir la personnalité divine et à différencier entre elles les divinités du polythéisme : les différents procédés sacrificiels, la topographie « sacrée », à savoir le choix du lieu de culte et les particularités de sa structure, la place de chaque fête dans le calendrier, avec son déroulement et sa temporalité spécifiques, sans oublier le personnel cultuel, dont les caractères requis auraient également une fonction connotative. Certes, en approchant les faits cultuels exclusivement sous l’angle de la « tendance », Brelich finit par subordonner au processus de différentiation cette volonté de communication avec les dieux qui est essentielle pour comprendre le sens des rituels dans la vie quotidienne des pratiquants. D’autre part, il a le mérite d’attirer l’attention sur un élément fondamental, mais souvent négligé, à savoir le fait que les pratiques rituelles relèvent pleinement de la représentation polythéiste du divin et qu’elles peuvent aussi avoir une charge connotative. Il reste, cependant, que, dans la perspective de ceux qui accomplissent les gestes rituels, cette « différentiation » est moins la fin d’un processus que le présupposé d’une adresse rituelle différenciée, capable d’identifier la puissance divine adéquate au contexte et d’établir avec elle une communication efficace.
7 La préface de Marc Augé signale de manière synthétique les mérites et les limites de ce volume qui contient aussi, en plus d’une postface des éditeurs et d’une note bio-
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bibliographique de l’auteur, l’important article « Der Polytheismus » (1960), republié ici dans sa traduction italienne, où Brelich revient sur les principaux arguments de son analyse du polythéisme. Ce petit livre est une lecture obligée pour tous ceux qui s’intéressent de près ou de loin à l’histoire des religions, en général, et à celle des polythéismes antiques, en particulier. Non seulement en vertu de la place d’honneur qui revient à Brelich dans l’histoire des études, mais aussi parce que cette publication nous invite tous à réfléchir de manière plus approfondie sur le rapport entre représentation du divin et fonctionnement du polythéisme.
AUTEURS
GABRIELLA PIRONTI Université de Naples
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Angelo Brelich, Presupposti del sacrificio umano
Pierre Bonnechere
RÉFÉRENCE
Angelo BRELICH, Presupposti del sacrificio umano, prefazione di Marcello Massenzio, Roma,
F0 Editori Riuniti, 2006. 1 vol. 15 B4 21 cm, 155 p. (Opere di Brelich). ISBN : 88-359-5847-4.
1 Ce texte réédité d’Angelo Brelich, en fait un cours d’université daté de 1967 et presque inconnu, est d’un grand intérêt. Il demeure à ce jour la plus belle tentative de présenter une vue d’ensemble du sacrifice humain de par le monde, pour en tirer des conclusions factuelles et méthodologiques. On est surpris par tant de profondeur conceptuelle, et en même temps par le refus de la conceptualisation pour elle-même. La courte préface de M. Massenzio replace l’horizon de Brelich dans une perspective historiographique, entre R. Pettazzoni et E. De Martino.
2 Si « sacrifice humain » est une juxtaposition de mots d’apparence anodine, on ne compte pas les aberrations théoriques qui furent avancées, par exemple l’idée que les Aztèques furent contraints de sacrifier des hommes faute d’animaux sacrificiels. La place réservée au sacrifice, humain et animal, varie d’une culture à l’autre, sans aucune constance, ce qui suffit à fonder l’idée que les premiers ne sont pas simplement une sous-classe abstraite des seconds, mais un réel problème historique. Brelich tente ensuite de distinguer le « sacrifice humain », offrande faite à un être supra-humain, et les « mises à mort rituelles », lorsque ce destinataire est absent des sources. Le concept d’« uccisioni rituali », qui seraient des rites anciens, autonomes et non cultuels, permettrait en outre de contourner d’autres difficultés méthodologiques. Dans une perspective historique, ces antécédents autonomes, les « mises à mort rituelles », auraient été contaminés par des rites cultuels et seraient devenus, dans les systèmes polythéistes, des sacrifices humains, selon autant d’évolutions possibles qu’il y eut de sociétés supérieures.
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3 D’où la nécessité d’étudier ces antécédents, presupposti. En prenant garde aux contextes, Brelich se demande en quelles circonstances les mises à mort rituelles pouvaient trouver une justification culturelle aux yeux de ceux qui les accomplissent. Selon lui, le sacrifice humain n’intervient que dans une situation de crise grave, interne ou externe, crise qui ne peut être résolue par les moyens traditionnels, et qui nécessite dès lors un acte d’exception à la hauteur de sa gravité (j’ai écrit presque la même chose pour caractériser le sacrifice humain dans l’imaginaire grec, et je me réjouis de cette belle compagnie), un rachat hors du commun, qui se fonde sur une logique à mettre en lumière. La mort est antithétique : quand l’homme la subit, elle émane d’une force non humaine. Quand l’homme la donne, en ces circonstances tragiques, il agit sur le « non humain » comme un moyen de défense de l’ordre culturel : « la società che praticano le uccisioni rituali, se ne servono, per cosí dire, giocando l’anormale contro l’anormale o il sovrumano contro il sovrumano » (p. 121).
4 Ces superbes conceptions théoriques rencontrent dans la pratique bien des difficultés, et c’est tout à l’honneur de Brelich de l’avoir lui-même souligné (p. 128). Si nous possédions toute la documentation requise, on pourrait sans nul doute y accorder crédit. Mais quand on ne possède que quelques bribes d’informations, on risque de construire une continuité historique des faits qui n’est qu’illusion. C’est souvent en fonction d’un seul témoignage, évasif, tardif, rarement de visu, que nous possédons (ou non) le nom d’un destinataire suprahumain. Nous inscrivons donc le cas dans la catégorie sacrifice ou meurtre rituel sur des bases aléatoires. Il y a enfin la terminologie utilisée par chaque société pour décrire chacun des cas, et dans la société grecque, il fut autant d’explications au sacrifice humain que de tendances culturelles et sociales (et que nous aplatissons toujours en parlant « des Grecs »), mais dont de rares exemples ont subsisté : pouvons-nous tabler sur des distinctions subtiles quand nos bases sont à ce point chancelantes ? Quand on dit que telle société « primitive » ne recourt pas aux mises à mort rituelles, n’est-ce pas, peut-être, parce qu’aucune trace ne nous en est parvenue ? Les mentalités évoluent, et l’on ne peut exclure non plus une évolution en dents de scie. Toute théorie axée sur une évolution progressive et inéluctable me semble indémontrable, d’autant plus que chaque société recourant au sacrifice est immédiatement confrontée, dans l’imaginaire, à l’idée que le sacrifiant puisse devenir, lui aussi, victime.
5 Le comparatisme semble permettre de combler les cases vides. Mais si chaque société a ses cases vides, ce qui est évidemment le cas, peut-on tenter d’étayer les faits au-delà des frontières culturelles, alors que la réalité interne à chaque société est déficiente ? On reste toujours prisonnier de l’angle d’étude pour chaque société, qui conditionne la signification qu’on finit par lui trouver, pour ensuite, dans la démarche comparative cette fois, travailler sur des comparables biaisés. L’ensemble des données traitées par Brelich repose sur des enquêtes de terrain et des fouilles menées entre 1880 et 1950, soit une période où le sacrifice humain était conçu comme allant de soi dans la phase « primitive » de chaque société, qui ne parvenait à s’en détacher qu’en sa période « de maturité ». Bien des rapports écrits attestent des coutumes « réelles », mais personne ne sait, en fait, – c’est le cas des Khonds en Inde par exemple, – si les récits sont dignes de confiance, ni du côté autochtone, ni du côté des colonisateurs qui fixent le récit.
6 Le problème des sources doit être repensé. Dans le 1er chapitre, Brelich tente, avec acribie, de voir si les victimes abattues en relation avec les moments saillants d’un règne peuvent être envisagées selon une optique évolutionniste, ou encore selon un
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diffusionnisme dont il resterait alors à découvrir les canaux de diffusion. Évolutionnisme et diffusionnisme d’abord ne sont pas étanches. Ensuite, il faut compter avec l’interaction entre les traditions orales, ce que chaque peuple raconte de son passé, et la réalité, ce que chaque peuple accomplit dans les faits : nul ne sait si une pratique dite « ancestrale » n’est pas en fait une pratique récente que la tradition a couverte d’un lustre ancestral. Si, en bien des cultures, les inhumations d’accompagnateurs mis à mort lors des funérailles semblent sporadiques dans l’espace et dans le temps, c’est peut-être parce que des pratiques mythiques furent remises « au goût du jour » avec la certitude de retourner aux usages ancestraux, puis abandonnées. Ce n’est qu’une hypothèse, mais qui met le doigt sur le simplisme de certaines reconstitutions anthropologiques. De même, si les immolations humaines lors des rites de fondation pourraient être en rapport avec la mise à mort cosmogonique d’un être dont le corps servirait de base à la nouvelle création, dans quel sens cette influence s’est-elle développée ? Peut-on vraiment supposer une strate antérieure dans la culture où une victime humaine était destinée à conforter la nouvelle création (d’une maison, d’un pont, …), en miroir avec la création de l’Univers ?
7 La 1re partie, de loin la plus longue (p. 29-117), explore les « uccisioni rituali ». Cinq sous-chapitres sont consacrés aux funérailles royales (Mésopotamie, Égypte, préhistoire, Afrique, Orient, Chine, Amérique), aux rites de fondation, aux rites agraires (notamment au Japon), aux situations de crise et aux rites de purification, enfin au cannibalisme et à la chasse aux têtes. La 2e partie (p. 125-145) revient rapidement sur le développement de ces prémisses et leur évolution (souvent un vernis sur le rite originel) dans le cadre des polythéismes, parfois en « sacrifici umani », parfois en aversion pour le phénomène, selon les racines de chaque société et les circonstances de leur évolution propre.
8 De façon significative, les problèmes terminologiques, qui trahissent les distinctions sémantiques qu’on tente d’y classer, demeurent irrésolus à ce jour. Lors d’une journée d’étude sur le sacrifice humain tenue à Montréal en 2008, la moitié de la discussion y fut consacrée, et un travail collectif de recherche en France, entre 1999 et 2002, connut les mêmes débats. On doit reconnaître d’ailleurs que Brelich avait magistralement ouvert la voie, même si cet écrit est resté au stade embryonnaire et si sa seconde partie demeure un plan commenté de ce qui devrait encore être fait. Enfin, en aucun cas, il ne faut se méprendre sur mes critiques : je fais ici le compte rendu d’un ouvrage de 1967, en nain juché sur ces géants qui ont développé la discipline, et dont Brelich fait assurément partie. J’aurais donné beaucoup pour assister à des cours aussi clairs, intelligents, méthodologiquement équilibrés et j’avoue être diablement jaloux des étudiants romains de cette époque.
9 Ajoutons quelques titres au complément bibliographique assez sommaire de la p. 155 : Archiv für Religionsgeschichte, 1, 1999 (volume consacré au sacrifice humain); J.-P. Albert & B. Midant-Reynes(éds), Le sacrifice humain en Égypte ancienne et ailleurs, Paris, 2005; M. Graulich, Le sacrifice humain chez les Aztèques, Paris, 2005; J.N. Bremmer (éd.), The Strange World of Human Sacrifice, Leuven, 2007; Human Sacrifice among Jews and Christians, Leiden, 2008 (Numen, suppl.112). On me permettra aussi de mentionner mon livre, paru à Liège en 1994 : Le sacrifice humain en Grèce ancienne (Kernos, suppl. 3). Une rapide enquête à « human sacrifice » dans le moteur de recherche d’une grande bibliothèque universitaire montrera l’étendue d’un domaine aussi riche que disparate sur le sujet, et souvent mal informé des avancées (et reculs) enregistrés.
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AUTEURS
PIERRE BONNECHERE Université de Montréal
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Barbara Kowalzig, Singing for the Gods. Performances of Myth and Ritual in Archaic and Classical Greece
Claude Calame
RÉFÉRENCE
Barbara KOWALZIG, Singing for the Gods. Performances of Myth and Ritual in Archaic and
F0 Classical Greece, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2007. 1 vol. 14 B4 22 cm, 528 p. (Oxford Classical Monographs). ISBN : 978-0-19-921996-4.
1 Dans un essai récent d’« anthropologie historiographique », Marshall Sahlins s’interroge à nouveau sur les acteurs de l’histoire dans la relation dialectique entre structure et événement1. Dans une comparaison entre « the Peloponnesian war » et « the Polynesian war » (entre la guerre du Péloponnèse telle qu’elle est mise en scène par Thucydide et une analogue entreprise impérialiste conduite par un royaume insulaire dans l’archipel des Fidji au XIXe siècle), cette nouvelle enquête d’histoire anthropologique se fonde sur le concept anglo-saxon de « agency ». Au-delà des contingences de l’événement, l’histoire est faite par des agents à considérer en tant qu’individus, groupes sociaux ou collectivités ethniques; dans leur action historique, ces différents acteurs sont soumis aux mêmes valeurs et déterminations d’ordre culturel : perspective anthropologique oblige !
2 Aux agents de l’histoire politique et sociale des cités grecques, l’étude de B.K. nous invite à ajouter désormais les groupes choraux et leurs poètes : en général des groupes de fils de citoyens ou de filles de citoyens chantant et dansant, aux grandes occasions cultuelles inscrites dans le calendrier de la cité, des compositions appartenant aux différents genres de la poésie rituelle qu’est le mélos. Parfois anonymes, ces poèmes relevant de l’art des Muses sont composés par des artisans, créateurs inspirés qui
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n’appartiennent pas forcément à la communauté civique à laquelle l’exécution chantée de ces compositions est destinée. Si différentes procédures énonciatives ancrent ces poèmes dans le hic et nunc de leur « performance » en faisant d’eux de véritables actes (rituels) de chant, leur composante narrative les réfèrent au passé héroïque de la communauté. Ainsi l’enquête proposée par B.K. sur « singing for the gods » est une invitation à revisiter, par des exemples concrets, la question controversée (s’il en est une en anthropologie culturelle) de la relation entre le « mythe » et le « rite »; ou plutôt la relation entre d’une part la référence narrative au temps fondateur de la communauté célébrée dans les chants choraux et d’autre part la conjoncture cultuelle et civique consacrée par l’exécution d’un chant rituel à forte dimension pragmatique. La démarche est d’autant plus pertinente que, par le biais de l’étiologie, la légitimation par la référence au passé héroïque de l’occasion rituelle présente et de sa conjoncture historique (et culturelle) est volontiers inscrite dans le poème lui-même. Mais, complète B.K., par l’action « performative » chantée il ne s’agit pas uniquement de justifier le présent, mais aussi de le transformer : le mythe agi dans le rite doit être considéré en sa qualité de facteur de changement social et politique. Le lecteur critique ajoutera quant à lui que c’est la forme poétique et musicale qui, insérant le récit dans une performance d’ordre rituel, confère à la référence narrative au passé héroïque son efficacité religieuse, sociale et institutionnelle.
3 C’est ainsi que, tour à tour, la documentation revisitée avec profit par B.K. nous entraîne successivement sur l’île de Délos où le chant choral sous l’égide d’Apollon donne le modèle métaphorique à l’organisation politique de la Ligue de Délos; dans la plaine d’Argos dont le territoire est balisé par les offrandes musicales aux différentes divinités qui en assurent la cohésion politique dans une sorte d’amphictionie; à Égine où le soutien du sanctuaire oraculaire de Delphes conduit à l’affirmation chorale d’une forme locale de prétention panhellénique et d’identité grecque face à Athènes; sur la grande île de Rhodes dont le sanctuaire central de Lindos promeut une forme de synécisme insulaire par poésie narrative et chorale interposée, en revisitant la tradition légendaire locale (entre héros immigré et figure autochtone); en Grande Grèce aussi et singulièrement à Métaponte par la référence rituelle et musicale à la fondation achéenne pour conférer à un groupe de cités coloniales une identité rivale de l’identité ionienne imposée par Athènes; avec un retour final sur le continent, en Béotie dont les petites cités groupées autour du Lac Kopaïs déploient différents efforts cultuels pour se fabriquer, par un réseau de rites et de mythes étiologiques, une identité commune face à l’hégémonie thébaine.
4 Remarquablement fouillée et érudite, parfois quelque peu verbeuse dans l’explicitation des effets pratiques des relations tirées entre récits légendaires locaux et cultes à portée politique, la recherche se distingue par deux traits dignes d’éloge. D’une part, on ne dira jamais assez les mérites d’une recherche en anthropologie historique de la religion politique grecque qui n’élude aucune de nos sources documentaires : poèmes chantés appartenant aux différentes formes rituelles du mélos – cela va sans dire –, mais aussi données historiographiques, rapports de fouilles et reconstructions archéologiques, documents épigraphiques et, dans une moindre mesure, représentations iconographiques; la lecture de chacun de ces indices et de chacune de ces mises en forme singulières de pratiques politico-religieuses impliquent un savoir- faire particulier, déployé dans chaque cas avec pertinence et intelligence. Par ailleurs les excellentes cartes où sont reportés, dans l’état actuel de nos connaissances, les différents réseaux cultuels et politiques tracés par les mythes étiologiques en
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performance poétique et rituelle portent la marque d’un véritable travail de terrain, comme le sont aussi les photographies des paysages cultuels, prises par l’auteure elle- même. B.K. a compris que, même si elle porte sur une culture distante dans le temps, l’anthropologie culturelle et sociale ne peut se dispenser d’une exploration des lieux de déploiement des pratiques rituelles et des manifestations symboliques qui forment ses objets traditionnels. La relation est certainement forte entre l’expérience directe des espaces cultuels arpentés de manière systématique et la position épistémologique adoptée dans une recherche d’histoire anthropologique du polythéisme grec constamment sensible aux implications concrètes, pratiques de chants rituels créés par de très grands poètes.
5 Par manque de place, on illustrera l’originalité de la démarche proposée par un seul exemple. Qui se rend de nos jours du Pirée à Égine par le service maritime public est frappé par le contraste fort entre la ville tentaculaire avec le port désormais couvert de béton qu’il vient de quitter et une bourgade à peine touchée par un tourisme resté très local. Il est donc difficile d’appréhender et de se représenter à partir du contexte historique et géographique contemporain les enjeux de la rivalité proverbiale, à l’issue des guerres médiques, entre d’une part l’Athènes qui s’est faite la championne de la défense des Grecs face au barbare et qui commence à étendre son contrôle politique et économique sur la mer Égée, et d’autre part une Égine qui, sinon dans les restes des sculptures du temple d’Aphaia, nous apparaît comme bien provinciale.
6 C’est ici qu’il convient de suivre attentivement B.K. dans le cheminement qu’elle propose. Du point de vue géographique, l’itinéraire trouve son point de départ dans le sanctuaire de Zeus Hellanios et du point de vue temporel dans la naissance d’Éaque, le fils du même Zeus et de la nymphe éponyme de l’île, Aigina. Avec sa fonction étiologique, le récit héroïque mettant en scène le salut qu’Éaque, avec l’aide de son père Zeus, assure à (presque) tous les Grecs à la suite d’une longue période de sécheresse est repris non seulement dans différentes épinicies de Pindare chantant la victoire d’un athlète éginète aux jeux panhelléniques, mais aussi dans le fameux sixième Péan destiné aux Delphiens en l’honneur d’Apollon Pythien. L’exécution de ce chant de culte nous invite aux Théoxénies de Delphes et il permet d’affirmer la prétention des Éacides et des Éginètes à étendre leur influence sur cette célébration panhellénique, notamment dans la perspective d’une nouvelle définition de l’identité « grecque » à l’issue des guerres médiques. Mais pourquoi le choix d’un festival appelant de bonnes récoltes en faveur de toute la Grèce ? La tentative identitaire est non seulement parallèle à la mainmise sur Délos et les Délia en l’honneur d’Apollon par les Athéniens, soucieux d’étendre leur pouvoir dans le bassin de la mer Égée; mais elle correspond aussi à un opération d’ordre économique : au centre du Golfe de Saronique, Égine apparaît en effet dès la fin du VIe siècle comme un lieu privilégié pour le commerce du blé. Ce contrôle du trafic de la denrée alimentaire de base semble exprimé par le récit du vol à Épidaure des statues en bois d’olivier attique de Damia et d’Auxésia. Quant au destin de l’Éacide Néoptolème, ce qui compte ce sont moins les versions divergentes au sujet de sa mort à Delphes (la controverse à ce propos est sans issue) que le rôle de théore qu’il assume vis-à-vis d’un sanctuaire où il reçoit fonction cultuelle et honneurs héroïques.
7 Dans ce remarquable essai d’anthropologie historique et religieuse sur le rôle joué par Égine à l’issue des guerres médiques, notamment en raison de sa position géographique face à Athènes, on remarque que, par l’intermédiaire de récits mythiques à portée étiologique et par celui des groupes choraux qui insèrent leur narration poétique dans
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le culte (en faisant de leur exécution chantée des actes rituels), ce sont aussi les dieux locaux qui deviennent les acteurs d’une histoire que ses protagonistes tentent d’orienter. À ce propos, on se demandera pourquoi Aphaia, la déesse qui domine l’île en face de Zeus Hellanios, est à peine mentionnée (p. 207 n. 70 et p. 209). Si de nos jours encore son sanctuaire impressionne et par son architecture et par ses sculptures, si de manière très énigmatique les choreutes de l’Hippolyte d’Euripide (v. 1123-30) situent à Trézène une Athéna Hellania qu’elles mettent en relation avec Dictynna, Pausanias (II, 30, 3-5) ne manque pas d’une part d’établir un rapport spatial fort entre le sanctuaire d’Aphaia et celui de Zeus Hellanios; d’autre part le Périégète fait d’Aphaia, par récit étiologique interposé, la représentante éginète (par la volonté d’Artémis) de Britomartis, la nymphe devenue la Dictynna crétoise. Il conviendrait donc de penser Zeus Hellanios et Aphaia en termes de complémentarité de compétences quant au domaine maritime et au territoire cultivé de l’île; le modèle serait ici le couple que forment Athéna et Poséidon en tant que divinités tutélaires d’Athènes, assurant dans l’affirmation étiologique de l’autochtonie des Athéniens la productivité du sol de l’Attique et la domination économique sur la mer Égée. Par ailleurs pourquoi ignorer l’ Épinicie 13 de Bacchylide composée pour célébrer la victoire d’un jeune Éginète au concours du pancrace des jeux de Némée peu avant 480 ? Déroulant l’arbre généalogique qui des parents divins d’Éaque conduit aux deux protagonistes centraux de la guerre de Troie que sont Achille et Ajax, traversé par l’isotopie de la gloire héroïque, le poème chanté par un groupe choral de jeunes gens d’Égine s’achève sur l’évocation d’Athéna, la déesse tutélaire de l’entraîneur athénien du jeune athlète, tout en insistant sur le caractère panhellénique des jeux athlétiques. Manière de conférer aux exploits des descendants d’Éaque jusque dans le présent, par la proclamation poétique, une portée panhellénique.
8 Mais, dans cette histoire manifestement orientée par les interventions chorales dans les cultes rendus aux divinités tutélaires des cités grecques classiques, quels sont en définitive les agents déterminants ? De ce point de vue, les conclusions tirées des poèmes qui ont nourri le chapitre consacré à la politique panhellénique conduite par les grandes familles de l’île d’Égine sont marquées par l’hésitation. Tour à tour, B.K. évoque les figures de poètes (Pindare, Euripide), les compositions poétiques (le péan, l’épinicie), la performance cultuelle de ces chants. Elle ne mentionne que furtivement les groupes choraux (p. 219-223), représentants de la communauté civique auxquels le poète délègue volontiers sa voix. Ce sont pourtant eux qui, par le biais de la « délégation chorale » et surtout dans et par l’exécution rituelle du chant, agissent avec l’appui des divinités dont ils invoquent le pouvoir pour en faire implicitement des acteurs de l’histoire.
9 Le flou qui règne parfois quant à une approche centrée sur une pragmatique hypertrophiée du rituel au détriment de ses dimensions sémantiques n’enlève rien à la précision et à la cohérence d’analyses aptes à nous engager à repenser nos manières de faire l’histoire (anthropologique) de la religion grecque. « Continental theory » ? Il s’agit en fait de théorie induite par la pratique des documents et du terrain, de théorie appliquée, à l’anglo-saxonne; cette théorie mise en pratique peut lever une bonne partie des objections formulées dans le contexte du scepticisme postmoderniste quant à la pertinence et à l’utilité des concepts opératoires. Les itinéraires d’anthropologie historique auxquels nous invite la belle enquête de B.K. à travers certaines parmi les
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manifestations culturelles les plus déterminantes et les plus originales de la Grèce classique valent sans aucun doute la peine d’être suivis avec beaucoup d’attention.
NOTES
1. M. SAHLINS, Apologies to Thucydides. Understanding History as Culture and Vice Versa, Chicago & London, The University of Chicago Press, 2004.
AUTEURS
CLAUDE CALAME École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, Paris
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Beate Dignas, Kai Trampedach (éds), Practitioners of the Divine. Greek Priests and Religious Officials from Homer to Heliodorus
Stéphanie Paul
RÉFÉRENCE
Beate DIGNAS – Kai TRAMPEDACH (éds), Practitioners of the Divine. Greek Priests and Religious Officials from Homer to Heliodorus, Washington/Cambridge, Center for Hellenic Studies/ F0 Harvard University Press, 2008. 1 vol. 14 B4 22,5 cm, 285 p. (Hellenic Studies, 30). ISBN : 978-0-674-02787-9.
1 Ce volume vient s’ajouter aux trop rares contributions sur la prêtrise, et plus largement, sur le personnel du culte, dans l’Antiquité grecque1. Il reprend les actes d’un colloque international sur le thème « Greek Priests from Homer to Julian », qui s’est tenu au Center for Hellenic Studies de Washigton, DC, en août 2003. L’ouvrage compte 11 articles répartis en 5 parties thématiques, auxquels s’ajoute un épilogue des éditeurs. Il se referme sur une bibliographie des œuvres citées et un index.
2 La définition du prêtre en Grèce ancienne est un problème qui revient de manière récurrente tout au long de l’ouvrage et est abordé de manière plus spécifique par A. Henrichs. Dans une mise au point nécessaire qui fait office d’introduction, H. s’attache aux problèmes de méthode que peut soulever l’emploi du mot : à l’instar d’une série de termes conventionnels, hérités du latin et transformés par la tradition judéo-chrétienne, le mot « prêtre », comme ses équivalents dans les langues modernes, s’avère très mal adapté au système pluriel des Grecs anciens. Toutefois, comme l’A. lui- même le concède, son utilisation semble inévitable à défaut d’alternatives satisfaisantes, et tout au moins doit-on essayer de l’employer en connaissance de cause.
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H. conclut par une présentation, en annexe, d’une série de définitions proposées par les modernes de 1825 à 2000.
3 A. Chaniotis s’interroge sur le niveau d’expertise des prêtres et autres fonctionnaires du culte dans la Grèce classique et l’Orient hellénisé. En se fondant sur de nombreux documents épigraphiques, l’A. explore les différentes circonstances dans lesquelles un prêtre pouvait devenir expert en rituel (par générosité, par piété personnelle, en raison de traditions familiales ou dans le cadre de rituels particuliers). Il en conclut que, sauf dans le cas de prêtrises héréditaires, les prêtres qui avaient obtenu leur charge par tirage au sort, élection ou vente aux enchères ne devaient pas faire preuve d’une expertise particulière et que celle-ci ne constituait pas en tout cas un prérequis à l’obtention de la charge. Elle pouvait toutefois s’acquérir au fil du temps, lors d’un long service ou par un engagement personnel important.
4 Les trois contributions suivantes s’intéressent aux prêtrises d’un sanctuaire ou d’une divinité particuliers. J. Bremmer propose une étude du personnel du culte de l’Artémision d’Éphèse à la lumière du contexte du lieu, qui a été soumis aux nombreuses influences extérieures (anatoliennes, perses, crétoises ou romaines). Il constate que ces fonctions cultuelles présentent les caractéristiques des prêtrises grecques, tout en intégrant parfaitement certains éléments étrangers2. S.G. Cole s’interroge sur le respect de la tradition (kata ta patria) dans les rituels, au moyen de l’exemple du culte de Déméter. Avec cette question en toile de fond, elle aborde des thèmes aussi variés (peut-être trop) que le fonctionnement administratif des sanctuaires, l’autorité des prêtresses de Déméter au sein du sanctuaire et de la cité, les représentations littéraires de celles-ci, le rôle que tiennent les prêtres et les entités politiques dans la continuité du culte, ou encore les épiphanies divines. On pourra déplorer occasionnellement un certain manque de rigueur dans le traitement des sources : l’inscription de Cos mentionnée p. 58 et 62 ne date pas du IVe s., mais de c. 240 avant notre ère, elle n’est donc pas contemporaine du synécisme3. L’interprétation du passage de Pausanias sur les mystères d’Andanie commenté p. 69-72 est controversée, et une note à ce sujet aurait peut-être été souhaitable. B. Dignas se penche sur la prêtrise de Sarapis, dont les spécificités ont souvent été expliquées par le caractère étranger ou privé du culte. Or, D. démontre bien que, d’une part, la dichotomie public/ privé n’est pas d’une grande utilité dans ce cas et, d’autre part, que le culte des divinités dites « orientales » n’est pas toujours très différent des cultes traditionnels, une fois bien intégrés dans la cité. Selon elle, de nombreux facteurs sont à l’origine du profil des prêtres, comme les coutumes locales, ou les particularités de la vie religieuse propre à chaque cité.
5 Le rapport des fonctionnaires religieux au pouvoir, à l’autorité et au prestige est étudié dans les deux contributions suivantes. U. Gotter examine les relations entre autorité religieuse et pouvoir séculaire en Asie mineure à l’époque hellénistique. Au moyen des exemples d’Archélaos, roi de Cappadoce, puis des États-temples d’Anatolie, il soutient la thèse que les prêtres, s’ils occupaient une place importante, n’exerçaient généralement pas de réel pouvoir politique. Le cas contraire représentait plutôt une exception, comme dans le cas du temple de Cybèle à Pessinous, et celui de Zeus à Olba. R. von den Hoff tente de dessiner, au moyen du corpus des représentations du personnel du culte à Athènes entre le VIe et le Ier s. avant notre ère, les contours du prestige attaché aux fonctions religieuses. En mettant en œuvre non seulement les sources iconographiques, mais également la documentation épigraphique et littéraire, l’A. établit un parcours
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chronologique de ces représentations et en montre l’évolution : absentes à la période archaïque, simples démonstrations de piété ou de service envers la cité au cours du Ve siècle, ces images deviennent progressivement un moyen d’affirmer la place des individus représentés ou de leur famille au sein de la société.
6 Les études de M. Haake et de M. Baumbach ont pour toile de fond la transformation de la figure traditionnelle du prêtre à l’époque impériale. Il ressort de la première que la contradiction entre prêtre et philosophe, relayée en partie par la littérature, est infirmée par les sources épigraphiques. Après avoir passé en revue les différentes significations que le mot philosophos peut revêtir dans les inscriptions, l’A. se penche sur les occurrences de prêtres-philosophes dans l’Orient romain du Ier au IIIe s. de notre ère. Il explique le paradoxe apparent des deux fonctions par le fait que ces hommes, qui appartenaient à l’élite sociale, pouvaient assumer différents rôles ou personae qui n’étaient pas incompatibles, mais dont la combinaison représentait au contraire un idéal de noblesse. Baumbach étudie la figure de Calasiris, prêtre égyptien d’Isis, dans le roman d’Héliodoros, Aethiopica. Il démontre que ce personnage-clé de l’intrigue peut être perçu de trois manières différentes. De l’extérieur, il apparaît conforme au type traditionnel du prêtre, qui est revêtu d’une autorité religieuse universelle, alors que lui-même se décrit plutôt comme un philosophe. Au-delà de ces deux représentations en apparaît une troisième : celle du theios anêr. Heliodoros met ainsi en scène, selon B., la transformation de la figure traditionnelle du prêtre en un nouveau modèle universel, qui dépasse les différences de culture et de religion.
7 Enfin, deux articles se concentrent sur les manteis. Dans son étude, M.A. Flower commence par distinguer le mantis du hiereus : à la différence du second, le premier exerce un art qui repose à la fois sur l’expérience et l’apprentissage, et sur une certaine capacité innée d’origine divine. Il se concentre sur une famille de devins bien documentée, les Iamides, et s’attache plus particulièrement aux représentations que celle-ci véhiculait et qui sont reflétées par les sources, plutôt qu’à retrouver une vérité historique en cette matière. Selon l’A., le succès et la longévité de cette famille ne dépendait pas uniquement des victoires militaires que ses membres ont pu obtenir, mais étaient également dus à la manière dont ils ont organisé leur propre « promotion ». K. Trampedach étudie la figure du devin dans l’épopée homérique et remarque une continuité de cette dernière aux époques postérieures. Il existe un contraste entre la manière dont ils sont présentés par le poète, et la manière dont ils sont représentés dans l’action, contraste qui est dû selon l’A. à la fonction littéraire importante du devin. Ainsi, dans l’épopée homérique, les devins ne semblent pas être revêtus d’une autorité politique particulière, et se confrontent souvent au scepticisme exprimé par les gens qu’ils conseillent. T. fait encore remarquer que le mantis grec s’écarte largement du devin dans les autres cultures, ainsi que des magiciens ou shamans.
8 En écho à l’introduction d’A. Henrichs, le problème de la terminologie et de la définition revient à nouveau dans l’épilogue de B. Dignas et de K. Trampedach, qui arrivent au même constat : la notion de « prêtre » convient mal à la diversité et à la pluralité qui caractérisent le personnel du culte en Grèce ancienne. D’où le choix du titre « practitioners of the divine », qui souligne l’un des aspects essentiels de la fonction religieuse, celui de « médiateur » entre les hommes et les dieux. Deux remarques se dégagent encore de cette conclusion. La première est l’importance de la documentation et la nécessité de prendre en compte tous les types de sources pour
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pouvoir dresser un portrait aussi fidèle que possible des prêtres grecs. La deuxième est la pauvreté de la bibliographie qui contraste avec la place centrale que les prêtres occupent au sein du système religieux des Grecs.
9 En conclusion, cet ouvrage, par la grande qualité de ses contributions et par les nombreuses questions qu’il soulève, rend parfaitement compte de la complexité et de la richesse du thème, ce qui n’est pas le moindre de ses mérites. À l’instar des éditeurs, on ne peut qu’espérer qu’il donnera l’impulsion nécessaire à la recherche sur le sujet.
NOTES
1. Récemment : V. PIRENNE-DELFORGE, St. GEORGOUDI, « Personnel du culte (Monde grec) », in ThesCRA V (2005), p. 1-65; J.B. CONNELLY, Portrait of a Priestess: Woman and Ritual in Ancient Greece, Princeton, 2007. Voir également M. BEARD, J. NORTH (éds), Pagan Priests. Religion and Power in the Ancient World, Ithaca, NY, 1990, qui n’est pas limité au monde grec. 2. On signalera une coquille dans la référence d’une inscription, p. 43 note 49 : IEphesos 990-990a et non 909-909a). 3. LSCG 154. Sur la date de l’inscription, voir Chr. HABICHT, « Zur Chronologie der hellenistischen Eponyme von Kos », Chiron 30 (2000), p. 308; Id., « The Dating of Koan Monarchoi », in K. HÖGHAMMAR (éd.), The Hellenistic Polis of Kos. State, Economy, and Culture, Uppsala, 2004 (Boreas, 28), p. 62.
AUTEURS
STÉPHANIE PAUL Université de Liège
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Pierre Sineux, Amphiaraos. Guerrier, devin et guérisseur
Aurian Delli Pizzi
RÉFÉRENCE
Pierre SINEUX, Amphiaraos. Guerrier, devin et guérisseur, Paris, Les Belles Lettres, 2007. 1
F0 vol. 15 B4 21,5 cm, 276 p. (Vérité des mythes). ISBN : 978-2-251-32441-8.
1 Le nom d’Amphiaraos évoque divers motifs : guerrier englouti sous les murs de Thèbes lors de l’expédition des Sept, devin qui rend des oracles, divinité guérisseuse, etc. Cet ouvrage entreprend une étude globale de toutes les facettes, aussi bien mythiques que rituelles, de ce personnage multiple. Néanmoins, l’A. signale d’emblée que son but n’est pas de proposer une image cohérente et exhaustive, mais bien un ensemble d’éléments significatifs et de relations entre Amphiaraos et son environnement (dieux, hommes, sanctuaire). En matière de culte, c’est principalement le sanctuaire d’Oropos, territoire à la limite entre la Béotie et l’Attique, qui est envisagé. Le postulat de l’A. est que toutes les données de la figure d’Amphiaraos sont à prendre en considération pour expliquer l’introduction de son culte dans ledit sanctuaire : on ne peut se contenter d’alléguer des besoins religieux nouveaux, issus des troubles de la guerre du Péloponnèse, comme le laisse entendre Thucydide. Enfin, en s’intéressant à la relation que les hommes établissent avec la divinité à travers le rituel, l’A. veut montrer que le cas « Amphiaraos » présente des similitudes avec le culte d’Asclépios et, plus largement, permet d’éclairer différentes pratiques du système religieux grec (incubation, démarche sacrificielle, etc.).
2 Le mythe auquel se rattache Amphiaraos fait l’objet du premier chapitre. Différentes traditions montrent le héros régnant sur Argos, dans une lutte pour le pouvoir avec les Talaïdes. Au terme d’un accord conclu avec Adraste, Amphiaraos doit épouser la sœur de celui-ci, Eriphylè, laquelle détiendra à l’avenir un pouvoir d’arbitrage entre les deux parties. À l’arrivée de Polynice, Amphiaraos est contraint par son épouse corrompue de prendre part à l’expédition contre Thèbes, bien qu’il soit conscient de l’issue funeste de
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ce départ, grâce à la tekhnè mantikè qu’il détient. L’A. nous livre une description de plusieurs documents iconographiques présentant le motif du départ. Les Tragiques ont également exploité ces épisodes du cycle épique, en laissant d’Amphiaraos l’image d’un guerrier excellent, qui se distingue par sa sagesse et sa piété, et ne partage pas l’hubris de ses pairs.
3 Le chapitre 2 examine la double identité, héroïque et divine, du personnage. Le motif de sa disparition – il est englouti sous la terre par Zeus pour échapper à une mort déshonorante lors du combat – est étudié à travers la littérature et l’iconographie. Cet engloutissement constitue une promotion pour le lieu de la disparition et fournit un aition à l’existence d’un culte vraisemblablement antérieur à celui d’Oropos. Selon Pausanias, c’est à Oropos qu’Amphiaraos, devenu dieu, aurait ensuite fait son anodos. Bien qu’il ne soit pas facile de le déterminer, l’A. conclut, au terme d’une argumentation détaillée, que le culte d’Amphiaraos aurait fait son apparition à Oropos autour de 420 av. J.-C., en tant que divinité.
4 Le chapitre 3 se concentre sur le contexte proprement historique de l’installation de ce culte à Oropos et examine dans quelle mesure celui-ci a permis à Athènes de consolider son pouvoir sur ce territoire. Dans les Suppliantes d’Euripide, pièce qui témoigne clairement du sentiment anti-thébain d’Athènes à l’époque, Thésée exalte la grandeur d’Amphiaraos. Selon l’A., c’est bien la marque que, par un ajustement du fonds légendaire, les Athéniens cherchaient à s’approprier une partie de la destinée des Sept contre Thèbes. Dès lors, l’introduction à la même époque du culte à Oropos, alors territoire athénien, n’est sans doute pas anodine. Ce sanctuaire est vraisemblablement devenu un des lieux où l’exaltation patriotique athénienne s’exprimait avec le plus de vigueur : il suffit d’examiner le Pour Euxénippos d’Hypéride, qui fait état d’un différend concernant la répartition des collines d’Oropos entre les tribus athéniennes, et le passage d’éphèbes athéniens au cours du IVe siècle, pour s’en rendre compte. D’autre part, les sources épigraphiques, relativement abondantes sur le sujet, permettent également de mesurer l’importance accordée par les Athéniens au sanctuaire d’Oropos, à chaque fois que celui-ci se trouvait en leur possession (décrets réglant la vie du sanctuaire, décret de Pandios, etc.). Quant à l’implantation du culte d’Amphiaraos à Rhamnonte, forteresse qui a constitué un atout important pour les Athéniens lors de la guerre du Péloponnèse, elle illustre également le rôle joué par le dieu/héros dans la défense du territoire attique.
5 Au chapitre 4, l’A. étudie la séquence des gestes et des comportements préliminaires à l’accomplissement de l’incubation au sanctuaire d’Oropos, et les similitudes et divergences que celle-ci présente par rapport au culte d’Asclépios. Il est tout d’abord fait mention des abstinences : pratique du jeûne, attestée à Oropos à l’époque impériale, et interdits du vin, des fèves et des lentilles dès le début de l’histoire du culte, ce qui pose la question d’une éventuelle influence pythagoricienne. Les différents usages de l’eau amènent l’A. à examiner la disposition du sanctuaire, d’après les vestiges archéologiques. Le rituel sacrificiel est également étudié, ce qui permet de voir les rapports entre Amphiaraos et d’autres divinités au sein de son sanctuaire. Enfin, il est question du versement de l’éparkhè, partie intégrante du processus de consultation du dieu qui se faisait sous le contrôle du néocore.
6 Le chapitre 5 porte sur la place de l’incubation au sein du rituel. Envisageant d’abord son organisation pratique, l’A. décrit la séparation des sexes ainsi que les koimètèria qui se sont succédé dans le temps, pour conclure que le rite de l’incubation n’était pas
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associé à une forme architecturale précise. D’autre part, la confrontation des documents iconographiques avec le témoignage de Pausanias pose de nombreuses interrogations, concernant notamment le sacrifice d’un bélier sur la peau duquel le consultant devait passer la nuit. Il est ensuite question des sacrifices et des offrandes d’action de grâce, à travers l’examen de différents reliefs votifs et de listes d’offrandes.
7 Enfin, le chapitre 6 s’interroge sur l’image que les Anciens se faisaient de la rencontre avec la divinité à travers le rêve. À Oropos, c’est principalement en tant que guérisseur qu’Amphiaraos apparaît : se pose alors la question des causes d’un déclin éventuel de la fonction oraculaire présente auparavant en Béotie et du développement de la fonction guérisseuse. En réalité, la dimension oraculaire du personnage existait toujours à travers l’incubation mais restait secondaire, comme le montre la consultation à but politique d’Euxénippos, qui illustre les limites de l’oracle d’Amphiaraos et la supériorité de l’oracle delphique : le message divin n’étant révélé en rêve qu’à un seul individu, il est source de contestations. Ceci n’a pas empêché, en terme de représentation, le rapprochement entre Amphiaraos et Apollon. Ensuite, les témoignages, principalement iconographiques, de l’exercice de la fonction guérisseuse d’Amphiaraos soulèvent évidemment la question des rapports avec Asclépios. Il semblerait que, malgré des similitudes iconographiques très grandes, les divinités semblables auxquelles Amphiaraos et Asclépios étaient associés, et le développement parallèle du sanctuaire d’Oropos et du sanctuaire d’Asclépios à Athènes, les Anciens ne les aient jamais totalement assimilés, dans la mesure où leur nom restait un élément distinctif.
8 Comme P. Sineux le souligne dans sa conclusion, l’étude d’une figure aussi complexe que celle d’Amphiaraos nous oblige à dépasser les catégories que nous utilisons habituellement pour appréhender la religion des Grecs et à ne pas nous enfermer dans une perspective trop étroite, qui n’envisagerait pas, entre autres, la dimension politique du culte. La vision de l’A. s’avère tout à fait recevable, mais non sans limites. Par exemple, mettre en relation toutes les données entourant le personnage et son culte permet certes d’éclairer le fonctionnement du sanctuaire, ainsi que les enjeux qui y sont liés, mais n’offre pas de réponse claire quant à l’origine et l’évolution de celui-ci à ses débuts. D’où l’incohérence suivante, relative à l’apparition de la fonction guérisseuse à Oropos : pourquoi minimiser le rôle de « besoins religieux nouveaux pour expliquer tout aussi bien l’introduction du culte d’Asclépios que celle d’Amphiaraos » (p. 21) et affirmer par la suite que le culte oraculaire, une fois introduit aux portes de l’Attique, « se serait rapidement enrichi pour répondre aux attentes du moment » (p. 212) pour devenir, in fine, un culte guérisseur principalement ?
9 Plus objectivement, on regrettera certaines fautes d’accentuation grecque (p. 42 : *ἀνδρόδαμας pour ἀνδροδάμας; p. 199 : *ἐπιταξαντος; p. 156, note 146 : *δημὸτης; p. 155, note 143 : *λευκώμα) et une incohérence de transcription récurrente (Βασίλειος Χ. Πετράκος transcrit tour à tour par « V.C. » et « B.C. Petrakos »). 10 Des résumés clairs referment chaque chapitre ou chaque sous-chapitre, au risque d’occasionner quelques redites. Soulignons le grand intérêt de l’index général et des illustrations présentes à la fin de l’ouvrage, qui permettent de visualiser les descriptions de l’A. La bibliographie est fournie et concerne principalement des points qui n’ont pas trait directement à Amphiaraos. Nous avons ainsi affaire à un ouvrage qui, s’appuyant sur de nombreuses sources, propose des pistes de réflexion intéressantes, aussi bien sur le personnage d’Amphiaraos que sur différents aspects de la religion grecque, sans refermer totalement certains points de la question.
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AUTEURS
AURIAN DELLI PIZZI Université de Liège
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Sarah Iles Johnston, Ancient Greek Divination
Antoine Kopij
RÉFÉRENCE
F0 Sarah Iles JOHNSTON, Ancient Greek Divination, Oxford, Wiley-Blackwell, 2008. 1 vol. 15 B4 23 cm, 193 p. (Blackwell Ancient Religions). ISBN : 978-1-4051-1573-5.
1 Les Grecs eux-mêmes ont beaucoup discuté de la nature exacte de la divination. Il est en effet primordial de répondre à cette question pour comprendre la place respective des dieux et des hommes dans l’univers, puisque la divination est fondée sur la conviction que les dieux communiquent avec les hommes. Durant le processus, les dieux peuvent répondre aux questions des hommes qui souhaitent connaître le destin qui leur est réservé et les informer de leurs exigences, auxquelles les hommes devront se plier pour réussir leurs entreprises. Dès lors, il était indispensable pour les Grecs de faire intervenir une référence à la divination dans toute représentation philosophico- religieuse. L’A. parcourt les multiples déclinaisons de ce dialogue dans le monde grec depuis les récits légendaires d’Homère jusqu’au syncrétisme théologique de Proclus, donnant une image aussi claire que possible du rôle important de cet ensemble de pratiques dans la vie des Grecs. Pour ce faire, elle choisit de privilégier la cohérence synchronique aux dépens des variations diachroniques, faisant intervenir des sources parfois distantes dans le temps et l’espace pour soutenir son point de vue, ce qui pourrait lui être reproché. Mais cette démarche offre davantage d’accessibilité qu’un rappel systématique du contexte des données exploitées. Par ailleurs, les références de travaux antérieurs consacrés à la collection et l’organisation du matériel textuel et archéologique sont mises en évidence au début de l’ouvrage.
2 S.I.J. situe son livre dans le sillage direct du volume collectif « Divination et rationalité », dirigé par Jean-Pierre Vernant et paru en 19741, avec lequel elle partage la volonté de décrire le type particulier de rationalité présent dans la procédure divinatoire et comment cette dernière s’articule à la structure sociale de son
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environnement. Au départ de cette recherche réside la conviction, commune à de nombreux chercheurs contemporains, de la nécessité de reconsidérer les catégories discriminantes qui opposent ce que les rationalistes2 de l’après-guerre considéraient comme la « rationalité occidentale », à une altérité caractérisée essentiellement par sa non-conformité aux normes « rationnelles ». Il est apparu clairement que cette tendance à donner une connotation péjorative à ce qui nous parait « irrationnel » chez l’autre est une caractéristique de l’esprit humain. Tentant de réparer ce qui était perçu comme une erreur due à une conception culturellement déterminée de la raison humaine, les chercheurs influencés par les apports des différentes sciences humaines se sont ensuite attachés à comprendre ce qui ressortait le plus comme obscur et incompris, à savoir la magie et les rituels d’initiation, laissant de côté la divination, moins exotique justement parce que son ancrage dans la régulation sociale avait déjà été démontré dans l’influent ouvrage de Dodds. C’est pourquoi l’A. a conçu la rédaction d’un ouvrage de synthèse sur la divination grecque.
3 S.I.J. divise sa discussion en deux parties, la première consacrée aux institutional oracles et la deuxième aux independent diviners, considérant que la division héritée de l’antiquité entre divination « naturelle » ou inspirée et « technique » ou apprise, est artificielle et inadéquate au point de vue heuristique. En effet, l’opposition entre divination « naturelle » et « technique » est souvent difficile à situer dans les exemples fournis par les différentes sources. Il semble que, dans la pratique, les deux sortes de divination se recouvraient à des degrés divers. Le premier chapitre d’introduction est suivi par deux chapitres traitant des oracles de Delphes, Dodone, Claros, Didymes et les autres. Le quatrième et le cinquième chapitre traitant de la figure du mantis, avec un accent dans le cinquième et dernier chapitre sur les rapports entre mantis et magicien à l’époque impériale. Pour décrire et expliquer les institutional oracles, l’A. fait intervenir en premier lieu les récits mythologiques, qui nous renseignent sur les particularités religieuses et culturelles propres au lieu de fondation de l’oracle ainsi que sur le type de concept de communication en usage. Après une description succincte mais utile de ce que pouvaient être les impressions du voyageur antique lors de son passage dans le sanctuaire oraculaire et de l’impact de celui-ci sur la vie politique et religieuse des cités grecques, le propos se centre sur la place centrale de celle ou celui par l’intermédiaire de qui s’exprime le dieu. Les individus qui pratiquent la divination sont le thème de la deuxième partie, où ils sont étudiés en dehors du contexte des sanctuaires oraculaires.
4 S.I.J. regroupe sous l’appellation de manteis l’ensemble des individus qui pratiquaient la divination indépendamment des oracles. Il existait un grand nombre de spécialisations distinctes que quelqu’un pouvait proposer contre rémunération, par exemple l’interprétation des rêves ou la lecture de la farine, ou encore l’interprétation d’oracles du passé. Des traits caractéristiques de la divination indépendante étaient l’adaptabilité aux demandes et la proximité de la clientèle, qui ne pouvait pas recourir aux oracles prestigieux et lointains pour des problèmes plus individuels ou quotidiens. La fonction de mantis est intégrée dans le tissu social grec dès une haute époque, comme l’atteste sa présence dans les poèmes homériques. Le mantis y participe aux combats en tant que héros à part entière et chaque armée en possède au moins un, qui assure la communication entre les mondes humain et divin, et personnifie ce rapport. Il est notable que les récits légendaires qui relatent les péripéties des manteis les intègrent d’une part aux arbres généalogiques des grands cycles hellènes, d’autre part aux récits de fondation des oracles. Il en découle une légitimation réciproque qui montre l’interdépendance des oracles institutionnels et des manteis. Le tissu social dans lequel
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sont intégrées ces pratiques divinatoires aux formes multiples se transforme sous l’empire romain. Cette période est marquée par la baisse de fréquentation progressive des sanctuaires oraculaires et l’émergence de nouvelles croyances, dont une, la plus célèbre, aura un rôle primordial dans le changement qui s’opère dans la relation avec le divin.
5 Le christianisme, dès ses premiers temps, qualifie de magiques les pratiques religieuse du paganisme. Par magique, il faut entendre étrange, néfaste. Les dieux du panthéon et leurs subalternes, les daimones, sont attachés à la figure de Satan, l’ennemi de Dieu. S.I.J. démontre qu’une telle condamnation sans équivoque d’un certain type de dévotion n’est possible que dans une théologie dualiste. Dans un système théologique polythéiste, le pratiquant choisit la divinité à qui il s’adresse en fonction du domaine de compétence de cette divinité et se sert des méthodes définies par l’usage pour s’en approcher. Les méthodes de la divination et de la magie de l’époque impériale nous sont connues notamment grâce aux Papyri Graecae Magicae, et par les textes de la théurgie, dont le nom signifie « œuvre divine », qui était une forme de magie placée sous l’autorité des dieux et pratiquée par des néoplatoniciens comme Porphyre et Jamblique. Ces sources montrent l’inconsistance d’une séparation arbitraire entre la divination, comprise comme une pratique religieuse, et la magie, censée s’opposer à celle-ci. L’époque impériale est marquée par l’augmentation de l’interaction culturelle, qui se traduit en termes religieux par l’adoption de nouveaux dieux et des nouvelles pratiques qui leur sont associées. Dans un contexte de transformation sociale, les points de repères ancestraux de la société gréco-romaine qu’étaient les oracles traditionnels ne suffisent plus. La demande grandissante de la population pour une réponse apaisante aux questions aussi bien pragmatiques que théologiques posées par le bouleversement religieux en cours permet à certains individus d’accroître leur prestige. Ceux-ci ont l’avantage d’être facilement accessibles et de pouvoir adapter leurs réponses à leur « clientèle » sans devoir en référer à une tradition rigide, comme dans un oracle institutionnel.
6 Pour conclure, disons que l’A. a choisi d’écrire une synthèse claire, dans le but manifeste de permettre au grand public et aux étudiants de saisir les tenants et les aboutissants de sa réflexion, qu’elle exprime dans un langage pédagogique et non dénué d’humour. Nous ne disposons pas encore de l’ample analyse qui viendrait remplacer le vieil ouvrage de Bouché-Leclercq, mais l’exercice de la synthèse à jour et bien informée est ici pleinement assumé et réussi.
NOTES
1. J.-P. VERNANT (éd.à, Divination et rationalité, Paris, 1974. 2. Notamment : E.R. DODDS, The Greeks and the Irrational, Berkeley, 1951 (nombreuses rééditions): M.P. NILSSON, Geschichte der griechischen Religion, 2 vols, Munich 1941-1955 (1967-1974³).
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AUTEURS
ANTOINE KOPIJ Université de Liège
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Johannes Nollé, Kleinasiatische Losorakel. Astragal- und Alphabetchresmologien der hochkaiserzeitlichen Orakelrenaissance
Fritz Graf
REFERENCES
Johannes NOLLÉ, Kleinasiatische Losorakel. Astragal- und Alphabetchresmologien der hochkaiserzeitlichen Orakelrenaissance, München, Verlag C.H. Beck, 2007. 1 vol. F0 21 B4 30 cm, 331 p., 24 pl. (Vestigia. Beiträge zur alten Geschichte, 57). ISBN : 978-3-406-56210-5.
1 This is the first comprehensive edition of a closed group of oracular inscriptions from Asia Minor that have been known, in isolated examples, for almost two centuries, but have been somewhat neglected by historians of religion and society in the Imperial Age; the only earlier collection, F. Heinevetter’s slim Festschrift for the Archaeological Seminar of Breslau of 1912, presented only a fraction of the texts and does not lay claim to epigraphical expertise.
2 These inscriptions belong to a consistent geographical area in Southern Phrygia, Cilicia and Pisidia, date to second and third centuries of our era, and appear in two distinct forms, dice oracles and alphabet oracles. Both types are oracles with ready-made answers that the inquirer accessed by chance, either throwing dice (usually five, rarely seven) whose combination pointed to one specific answer, or using the alphabet in a way that eludes us to pick the correct answer from a list. Both methods thus called for a different number of ready-made answers, twenty-four for the alphabet oracles, fifty-six with five dice, 120 with seven. Alphabet oracles contained one verse per answer,
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usually in iambics, dice oracles several hexameters that did not only contain the answer but described also the exact nature of the throw; it mattered how different throws with the same sum were composed. It is these answers that are preserved on often impressive blocks of marble, either the short list of alphabetically ordered lines, or the very long list of numerically organized verse groups. Alphabet oracles were usually inscribed on stelai, slabs or the flat natural rock of a mountain side or a cave, oracles for five dice (the most common kind) were carved into the four sides of a large free-standing marble block that was almost two meters high; the even larger texts of the two (three?) oracles for seven dice, none of them fully preserved, seem to have been inscribed on the walls of public buildings.
3 N(ollé’)s book starts with short introductory chapters (p. 1-17), on the history of research and the aim of this book, the use of dice or rather astragaloi, knuckle bones of sheep, and the tradition of dice oracles that is more wide spread in place and time than the preserved monuments let us suspect; Pausanias (VII, 25, 10), in the only literary record, describes an oracle for Heracles in Bura (Achaea), a few independent epigraphical fragments come from Thrace. The core of the book is a superb presentation of the epigraphical monuments from Anatolia, the 21 dice oracles (p. 19-221) and the 12 alphabet oracles (p. 223-279), in each case with all the necessary information on form, date, archaeological context, find history and bibliography, a critical Greek text with a German translation and a commentary; in some cases, the introductions contain brilliant vignettes on questions of Anatolian topography, society and religion, such as the detailed investigation into the find-spot of the alphabet oracle of Timbriada, the cave sanctuary of a local Meter (p. 265-268). In the case of the 18 oracles for five dice that all vary the same original text, N. sensibly confines the presentation of the single texts to an introduction on the monument and a critical rendering of the Greek texts and reserves translation, commentary and structural analysis to go with the reconstructed Urtext (p. 123-181). The commentary is ample, very learned and often exhaustive (e.g. the splendid page on the scorpions that hide under stones, p. 164-165). Rarely things seem somewhat off the mark (e.g. p. 130 on Stoic ὁρμή), but sometimes one would like to know more, e.g. on the epithet εὐάντητος in Hierapolis (p. 258) that is most often applied to human interaction with a dangerous divinity (common in the Orphic Hymns; it would have been interesting to collect the parallels in the language of these texts and the vaguely contemporary Orphic Hymns; the few remarks on the style, p. 186-188, deserve expansion), or on the verses that warn against forcing one’s will upon a divinity (p. 142 – what ritual means are meant, and what is the underlying theology?). Each of the two main parts has a general introduction and a chapter that focuses on the common characteristics of the texts; a map (p. 23) and several charts help the reader with overview and comparison. A short final chapter, “Die südkleinasiatischen Losorakel und die religiös-mentalen Entwicklungen der Kaiserzeit,” places them in their social context and in the wider world of divination, religion and society of the Antonine period (p. 281-293), with some emphasis on the Orakelrenaissance of the epoch, and some thoughts on the transition to Christianity after all; some of the oracles from these Anatolian stones are echoed in the Medieval Sortes Apostolorum(p. 293; see William E. Klingshirn, “Defining the Sortes Sanctorum. Gibbon, Du Cange, and Early Christian Lot Divination,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 10 [2002], p. 77–130 and ID., “Christian Divination in Late Roman Gaul. The Sortes Sangallenses,” in Sarah Iles Johnston and Peter Struck(eds.), Mantikê. Studies in
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Ancient Divination, Leiden, Brill, 2005, p. 99-128; both are absent from N., as is other non- epigraphical bibliography). Several indices (p. 305-331) conclude the book.
4 N. has given us a book that will establish itself as the most authoritative epigraphical treatment of the topic for some time to come: even when new texts will be found, as they presumably will, they will not drastically change the picture. Like Aude Busine in her recent Paroles d’Apollon (Leiden, Brill, 2005), and David Frankfurter in an important chapter of his Religion in Roman Egypt (Princeton University Press, 1998, p. 145-197), N. has remarkably expanded our knowledge of divination in the second and third centuries of the Imperial epoch and helped to lay the groundwork for more research that will help us to go beyond the descriptive Orakelrenaissance.
AUTHORS
FRITZ GRAF Ohio State University
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Anne Gangloff, Dion Chrysostome et les mythes. Hellénisme, communication et philosophie politique
Yves Lafond
RÉFÉRENCE
Anne GANGLOFF, Dion Chrysostome et les mythes. Hellénisme, communication et philosophie
F0 politique, Grenoble, Jérôme Millon, 2006. 1 vol. 16 B4 24 cm, 428 p. (coll. Horos). ISBN : 2-84137-195-6.
1 La question complexe du mythe – ou des mythes– régulièrement prise comme enjeu de réflexions sur l’Antiquité grecque éveille, dans le contexte de l’époque impériale romaine, des résonances spécifiques. De fait, dans un cadre où les cités grecques étaient placées sous le contrôle d’un pouvoir politique romain, la matière mythique pouvait, sinon garder une efficacité politique et sociale, au moins fournir un savoir commun, une mémoire propre à entretenir la conviction de partager une même identité culturelle et favoriser, comme l’avait souligné J.-P. Vernant en 1996 dans une réflexion sur « Les frontières du mythe », la recherche dans le passé très ancien de liens culturels et symboliques.
2 Issu d’une thèse de doctorat, le présent ouvrage se propose de placer cette question des mythes au cœur d’une approche de l’œuvre de Dion Chrysostome dont les discours, envisagés sous l’angle de la rhétorique et de la philosophie politique dans le contexte des Ιer et ΙΙe siècles de notre ère, peuvent servir de pierre de touche à une analyse de « l’hellénisme d’époque romaine » – pour reprendre le titre d’une publication récente1. Il s’agit plus particulièrement d’explorer, en la situant dans l’horizon culturel de la seconde sophistique, la question de la portée pédagogique des mythes utilisés par Dion, en partant de l’idée que la rhétorique, indissociable de la culture, permet à Dion, grâce
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à un travail d’appropriation active et de réinvention sur les mythes, de développer un projet politique et philosophique ancré dans le réel. L’A. entend ainsi défendre l’idée de la cohérence d’un projet oratoire global dans lequel la virtuosité rhétorique serait subordonnée, chez Dion, à une réflexion approfondie sur la poésie, la pédagogie et la politique. La nature du mythe à l’époque romaine, devenu essentiellement objet littéraire et culturel, a donc conduit l’A. – elle s’en explique elle-même –, à aborder les mythes non pas selon une réflexion ethnologique et anthropologique qui chercherait à en dégager la portée sociale et historique, à la manière des études menées par « l’école de Paris », mais selon une approche qui en fait les vecteurs de « valeurs morales, politiques, philosophiques et religieuses actualisées », dans des textes où il s’agit de mettre en évidence des « stratégies oratoires ».
3 Pour étudier ainsi le bien-fondé et la portée pédagogique de l’utilisation des mythes par le rhéteur de Pruse, l’A. suit une démarche en quatre temps. Une première partie étudie les différentes acceptions que Dion lui-même prête à la notion de mythe, à la lumière d’une analyse lexicologique menée à partir des récits mythiques (une quarantaine) mais aussi de toutes les simples références (près de 400) présentes dans l’œuvre du sophiste : cela permet à l’A. de dégager et de classer les sources littéraires exploitées par Dion, mais aussi de définir sous quelle forme (mention, narration ou allusion) ces témoignages sont intégrés aux discours et d’y analyser la répartition des exemples mythiques. L’ensemble permet de mettre en valeur les commentaires dont le sophiste accompagne sa reprise et sa réélaboration des mythes, témoignages de sa réflexion sur la valeur de la parole poétique et de son utilité dans une stratégie de communication.
4 C’est cette « réflexion sur l’éloquence par le biais des mythes » qui fait l’objet de la deuxième partie où il s’agit de montrer que l’utilisation des mythes par le sophiste lui permet de faire de la parole oratoire un thème central de ses discours propice à une réflexion sur la question du vrai et du faux, sur les séductions de la parole employée comme instrument de persuasion et d’enseignement, ou encore sur la manière de concilier sagesse philosophique et séduction poétique, à des fins pédagogiques. Au fil de l’analyse, l’A. fait bien apparaître la dimension morale d’une telle réflexion et montre que, tout en s’inscrivant dans la ligne de celle développée depuis le Ier siècle avant J.-C. par les rhéteurs à la recherche d’une réconciliation entre rhétorique et philosophie, et donc dans les débats suscités par la critique platonicienne de la poésie homérique, elle s’appuie sur un système de valeurs (la doxa ou la philotimia notamment) qui met les discours de Dion en prise avec les réalités de son temps, même s’il apparaît aussi qu’aux yeux de Dion la vérité idéologique l’emporte sur la vérité historique. C’est un objectif politique et pédagogique qui légitime la synthèse entre rhétorique et philosophie que Dion propose à ses contemporains.
5 Dans une troisième partie, l’A. examine plus précisément la place et le fonctionnement des mythes comme « outils pédagogiques » dans l’argumentation développée par Dion dans ses discours. C’est « l’efficacité des mythes » qui est mesurée ici, à l’aune de visées pédagogiques qui conduisent le sophiste à privilégier dans ses propos la fonction illustrative liée à la force des images véhiculées par la matière mythique, à ne pas sacrifier la clarté à l’érudition et, de façon générale, à faire une exploitation calculée des procédés de la rhétorique dans le souci de retenir l’attention aussi bien des pepaideumenoi que du public moins cultivé. C’est dans cette optique – démagogique au sens étymologique du terme – que Dion joue de la plasticité des mythes pour les adapter aux perspectives philosophiques et morales qui sont les siennes, au fil d’un
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travail de resémantisation qui s’effectue à des degrés divers, allant de la simple interprétation à une véritable réécriture ou réinvention, dans une optique pragmatique qui reflète à l’égard de la tradition ce que l’A. appelle une conception « utilitariste » du mythe.
6 L’A. en vient alors, dans une dernière partie, à traiter de l’utilité morale et politique des mythes, ce qui la conduit à prendre en compte le contexte d’énonciation des discours pour y cerner dans quelle mesure l’imaginaire mythique des destinataires (empereur, foules urbaines) pouvait garantir l’efficacité des conceptions défendues par Dion en matière d’idéologie du pouvoir (un thème qui permet à Dion, à travers plusieurs discours, de construire une théorie politique de la royauté où sont opposés les modèles du bon roi et du tyran), de moralité civique ou d’éducation et donner ainsi une assise à l’expression des valeurs par lesquelles Dion défend, non sans ironie parfois, comme le montre bien l’A., et en privilégiant quelques figures mythiques (Héraclès, Ulysse, Agamemnon, Achille), une certaine idée de l’hellénisme.
7 Plus proche des réflexions d’un P. Veyne2 que des approches relevant de l’anthropologie culturelle ou de l’analyse sémiologique3, c’est bien en termes de « stratégie » ou de « modalité » plutôt qu’en termes « d’objet » ou de « narration » que l’A. aborde la notion de mythe, considéré surtout comme producteur, pour ceux à qui il est destiné, d’effets de sens et comme moyen de formuler une représentation de soi à travers des discours qui s’insèrent dans un contexte historique spécifique.
8 On ne trouvera donc pas ici d’étude du mythe envisagé dans le cadre de la religion grecque, mais on apprécie, dans cet ouvrage équilibré et très clairement rédigé, le souci, à travers une analyse fouillée de l’ensemble de l’œuvre de Dion, de reconstituer un cheminement intellectuel où l’utilisation des mythes révèle à la fois toute une culture, dont se nourrit la société multiculturelle de l’empire, mais aussi un travail spécifique de réécriture qui répond à un projet dont les visées sont politiques et pédagogiques : l’attitude de Dion, qui oscille entre l’adhésion et la distance, permet la construction de discours moraux et politiques qui doivent beaucoup à la culture philosophique et en particulier platonicienne du sophiste, tout en révélant une attitude vis-à-vis du passé et des valeurs grecques qui a sa spécificité par rapport à l’usage que peuvent en faire ses contemporains, qu’il s’agisse des intellectuels (on pense bien sûr à Plutarque) ou des cités grecques de l’Empire. La présente étude relève ainsi de l’histoire littéraire, mais l’éclairage qu’elle apporte sur l’univers intellectuel d’un représentant de la seconde sophistique a sa place dans une histoire des mentalités, dans le sillage des recherches consacrées au genre littéraire contemporain du roman grec, et à côté des travaux qui s’attachent à reconstituer, à partir surtout de la documentation épigraphique, l’histoire des sociétés civiques d’Asie Mineure à l’époque impériale. L’utilisation conjointe de ces différents travaux permet de mieux cerner ce qu’était le cadre mental et l’horizon intellectuel des Grecs dans l’Orient Romain, voire l’efficacité sociale et politique que pouvaient avoir les mythes tirés de cet héritage culturel – le mythe pouvant servir à articuler un imaginaire qui permettait aux Grecs de penser les réalités de leur temps.
9 Bien que tous les discours de Dion (d’ailleurs commodément répertoriés en fin de volume) n’aient pu servir au même degré de socle à l’analyse – certains, comme les discours bithyniens, ne faisant que peu appel aux références mythiques –, on n’en apprécie pas moins la possibilité d’avoir accès, à travers l’approche développée ici, au contenu de bon nombre de textes qui attendent encore leur traduction française. Un
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index des personnages historiques et mythiques ainsi que des auteurs anciens complète utilement le volume.
NOTES
1. S. FOLLET (éd.), L’hellénisme d’époque romaine. Nouveaux documents, nouvelles approches (Ier s. a. C.- IIIe s. p. C.), Paris, 2004. 2. Les Grecs ont-ils cru à leurs mythes ?,Paris, 1983. 3. Bien illustrée par exemple par les réflexions stimulantes de C. CALAME, Mythe et histoire dans l’Antiquité grecque. La création symbolique d’une colonie, Lausanne, 1996, p. 9-55.
AUTEURS
YVES LAFOND Université de Poitiers – KERA-EA 3811
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Derek Collins, Magic in the Ancient Greek World
Magali de Haro Sanchez
RÉFÉRENCE
Derek COLLINS, Magic in the Ancient Greek World, Oxford, Blackwell Publishing, 2008. 1 vol.
F0 15 B4 22,5 cm, 207 p. (Blackwell Ancient Religions). ISBN : 978-1-4051-3239-8.
1 Professeur de latin et de grec à l’Université du Michigan, D. C. propose une nouvelle approche des pratiques magiques auxquelles il a par ailleurs consacré trois articles1. Deux objectifs ont guidé l’A. dans son entreprise : fournir un ouvrage de référence accessible aux non-spécialistes et, en même temps, intéresser les spécialistes dans la mesure où il ouvre de nouvelles perspectives dans l’étude de la magie grecque et de ses structures.
2 Intitulé Magic: What Is It and How Does It Work ?, le 1er chapitre offre une histoire des théories anthropologiques relatives à la magie telles que celles de J.G. Frazer, B. Malinowski, L. Lévy-Bruhl, E.E. Evans-Pritchard et S. Tambiah, surtout en vue de clarifier quelques concepts clés comme ceux de sympathie ou d’analogie. Dans le 2e chapitre (A Framework for Greek Magic), l’A. présente, à partir de sources littéraires, le cadre intellectuel dans lequel la magie a évolué en Grèce aux Ve et IVe siècles avant J.-C. Quoique circonscrite à l’époque classique (p. 27), son enquête commence par les épopées homériques, en particulier les épisodes de l’Odyssée où sont mentionnés les φάρμακα de Circé et le μῶλυ d’Hermès. Il développe ensuite les points de vue critiques de l’auteur hippocratique du traité De la maladie sacrée et de Platon, spécialement dans les Lois, la République et le Théètète. Enfin, il insiste sur la difficulté pour les modernes de cerner la magie antique, en raison de la perception différente de la « causalité », à une époque où le monde était perçu comme un ensemble incluant tant les vivants que les invisibles (divinités, démons et morts). Une fois ces principes posés, D. C. passe en revue les différents termes grecs qui désignent les magiciens (καθαρταί, ἄγυρται,
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μάντεις, ἀλαζόνες et μάγοι) et les pratiques magiques (μαγεία, γοητεία, ἐπῳδή), et ceux qu’une évolution sémantique rend ambigus, comme φάρμακον.
3 Dans le 3e chapitre, Binding Magic and Erotic Figurines, l’A. commence par définir les défixions, leur nature, leurs supports, leurs provenances et les rituels qui les accompagnent, observant que l’idée de « lier » (δεῖν) le destinataire, qui préside au fonctionnement de la défixion, se retrouve dans les mythes, où l’action d’entraver les mouvements est souvent utilisée par les dieux ou par les hommes contre des divinités qu’ils ne peuvent tuer. Il concède toutefois que cette association d’idées ne peut être prouvée car, dans le cas des défixions, ce sont des mortels qui lient d’autres mortels. Il aborde ensuite quatre aspects de cette pratique : la demande d’assistance des morts ou des divinités infernales, l’utilisation de charaktères (symboles magiques), le démembrement des victimes et le recours aux figurines utilisées dans le rituel. D.C. prend soin de distinguer ces dernières des poupées vaudoues qui sont percées d’aiguilles ou de clous pour provoquer une douleur physique, et non pour lier à l’utilisateur de la formule chaque partie du corps de la personne objet du désir, comme dans les défixions.
4 À la lecture du titre du 4e chapitre, Homeric Incantations, on s’attendrait à trouver des considérations sur la magie dans l’Iliade et l’ Odyssée. L’A. dissipe d’emblée le malentendu en précisant qu’il étudie les vers homériques employés ultérieurement comme incantations. S’interrogeant sur les raisons du choix de ces vers dans les pratiques magiques, dans un premier temps, il se fait l’écho de la tradition rapportée par Jamblique dans la Vie de Pythagore (25, 111 et 29, 164), qui invoque le principe d’analogie entre le contexte des vers homériques et la situation qui a nécessité l’emploi de la formule magique. Pourtant, D.C. constate qu’entre le IIe et le IVe siècle après J.-C., la taille de la citation diminue et, avec elle, l’importance du contexte. Il montre ainsi l’importance de la métaphore dans les vers choisis pour les mots particulièrement évocateurs qu’ils contiennent. Il présente également les ὁμηρομαντεῖα, ces traités de divination qui utilisent les vers d’Homère, dont on trouve un équivalent latin plus tardif : les Sortes Vergilianae. Quant au choix d’Homère, l’A. ne l’explique pas seulement par son rang de poète grec le plus illustre de l’Antiquité, mais aussi par le lien étroit noué entre la poésie et la divinité, et en particulier dans les épopées homériques, interprétation qu’on trouve notamment, écrit-il, chez Proclus.
5 Dans le dernier chapitre, Magic in Greek and Roman Law, il aborde enfin la difficile question de la légalité des pratiques magiques en évoquant divers cas judiciaires, ainsi que les lois ou l’absence de lois promulguées à l’encontre des personnes s’adonnant à la magie. A l’aide d’exemples éclairants, il fait remarquer qu’en Grèce et à Rome, sous la République, la condamnation vise surtout le résultat néfaste des pratiques, – assassinat ou destruction de récoltes –, alors qu’à partir des IIIe et IVe siècles, la simple détention d’ouvrages de magie est prohibée. Dès le Ve siècle, l’interprétation chrétienne tentera de distinguer la magie fondée sur la nature (magie blanche), des pratiques secrètes utilisant des démons (magie noire).
6 En conclusion, l’A. reconnaît qu’on ne saurait être exhaustif dans l’étude des pratiques magiques, ajoutant que, pour un historien de la magie, il est moins important de savoir si la magie est réellement efficace que de pouvoir rendre compte des structures culturelles qui lui permettent d’exister, comme il a tenté de le faire. La fin de l’ouvrage réunit des notes fournies, un index thématique, ainsi qu’une bibliographie comprenant des monographies générales et des articles plus spécialisés. On regrettera toutefois
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l’absence de certaines références. Les historiens de la médecine ne manqueront pas de constater que J. Jouanna, dernier éditeur en date du traité hippocratique De la maladie sacrée (Paris, 2003) et spécialiste incontesté du Maître de Cos, est absent de la bibliographie. Or, J. Jouanna a notamment étudié l’attitude d’Hippocrate par rapport à la divinité en tant que cause et remède aux maladies (« Hippocrate de Cos et le sacré », Journal des savants, janvier-juin, 1989, p. 3-22; Hippocrate, Paris, 1992, p. 259-297), bien avant que ne le fasse D.C. dans son deuxième chapitre, dans lequel il utilise l’édition de H. Grensemann (Die Hippocratische Schrift: über die heilige Krankheit, Berlin, 1968), mentionnée dans les notes, mais non reprise dans la bibliographie.
7 On reconnaîtra à l’A. le mérite d’avoir défini des concepts clés, tels que ceux de magie sympathique, d’analogie, de magicien, de défixion, et délimité les champs sémantiques des mots grecs désignant des pratiques magiques, afin de les rendre accessibles aux non-spécialistes. On soulignera en particulier l’intérêt du 1er chapitre qui offre un tour d’horizon rapide et complet des théories anthropologiques utiles à la compréhension des pratiques magiques et on lui saura gré de reconnaître qu’il n’a pu traiter tous les aspects de la magie. De ce fait, il n’a pas cherché à faire une synthèse, mais il a choisi des thèmes, souvent déjà abordés dans ses articles, en vue d’initier le lecteur profane aux pratiques magiques de l’Antiquité. On appréciera également le sous-chapitre consacré au traité De la maladie sacrée, dans lequel il résume les arguments de l’auteur hippocratique, tout en critiquant son attitude face aux remèdes magiques. Même s’il ne le cite pas, D.C. rejoint ici l’opinion de J. Jouanna selon laquelle l’auteur du traité ne repoussait pas totalement l’origine divine de la maladie. Cependant, dans son raisonnement, D.C. va plus loin que d’autres historiens de la magie (tel A. Bernand, Sorciers Grecs, Paris, 1991, p. 229-230), et peut-être va-t-il trop loin, en considérant que l’auteur hippocratique a tort de rejeter le recours à la magie qui aurait pu cependant offrir une réponse adéquate aux maladies supposées provoquées par les défixions (p. 38-40).
8 Toutefois, en dépit des efforts de son auteur, cet ouvrage n’est pas d’un abord aussi aisé qu’il pourrait l’être. Au niveau de la forme, D.C. manque de cohérence dans le découpage en sous-chapitres, faisant, par exemple, alterner dans son premier chapitre les résumés de théories anthropologiques, des définitions de concepts clés et des interprétations personnelles (Frazer and Tylor p. 3, Malinowski p. 5, Magic as Communication p. 5, Lévy-Bruhl p. 7, etc.), au risque d’égarer le lecteur. Au niveau de la typographie, sa citation de mots grecs est peu cohérente recourant tantôt, mais rarement, aux caractères grecs, tantôt à la transcription (dans l’index, par exemple, seul le verbe δεῖν est écrit en grec alors que tous les autres mots sont transcrits). À la page 66, il semble même que la ligature IE du texte grec n’ait pas été correctement imprimée dans l’inscription d’une tablette de défixion attique (DTA 27, non datée, contenant ΣΗΔIΕΛΚΙΣΩΣ, à lire Σωσικλειδης), ce qui entrave la bonne compréhension de l’exemple.
9 Concernant le contenu, les spécialistes regretteront un manque de précision et parfois même de rigueur dans la présentation des sources. C’est, par exemple, le cas à la page 66, où l’A. se borne à renvoyer à J. Gager (Curse Tablets and Binding Spells from the Ancient World, Oxford, 1992) pour les tablettes de défixions et à W. Brashear (« Greek Magical Papyri: an Introduction and Survey », ANRW II 18.5, 1995, p. 3380-3684) pour les papyrus, plutôt qu’aux éditions de référence des textes, lorsqu’il met en relation le principe de l’ostracisme, les défixions sur ostraca et les formules des papyrus magiques
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grecs à recopier sur ostraca. Une description complète des objets archéologiques cités, avec dates, provenances et lieux de conservation, et quelques illustrations auraient également aidé les lecteurs.
10 De plus, le recul que l’A. tente de prendre par rapport à ses sources semble encore insuffisant pour les exploiter dans leur globalité, tant en ce qui concerne la forme et le contenu que le contexte culturel dans lequel elles s’inscrivent. Par exemple, dans le chapitre Homeric Incantations, D. C. présente un papyrus iatromagique (p. 109-114), le PGM XXIIa (MP³ 6001 = BGU 4.1026, codex d’Hermopolis,IVe – Ve s.), qui utilise des vers d’Homère contre la fièvre, une hémorragie, des maux des seins et de la matrice, et peut- être l’elephantiasis des anciens (affection souvent identifiée à la lèpre). Il en donne un commentaire approfondi mettant en relief l’importance des mots dans les vers utilisés comme incantations, plutôt que leur contexte dans l’épopée homérique. On remarquera toutefois qu’en cherchant la signification exacte des termes αἱμαροϊκόν (pour αἱμορροϊκόν) dans le titre de la formule (ligne 13 du papyrus), et αἱμάροια (pour αἱμόρροια) dans la citation de l’Iliade Ι, 75 (ligne 15), il ne tient pas compte du [λλ] qui précède et forme avec αἱμαροïκόν une expression courante dans les titres intermédiaires des papyrus magiques renvoyant à la formule précédente. Or, celle-ci devait être destinée à combattre une fièvre (ligne 10 : πρ(ὸς) τόν). S’il n’est pas impossible que l’incantation se rapporte aux hémorroïdes ou aux menstruations, comme le suggère D.C., on pourrait également l’interpréter comme le remède à une autre fièvre qualifiée d’hémorragique ou peut-être consécutive à une hémorragie, post partum par exemple. Quant au contexte culturel, le manque d’informations pose un problème, lorsqu’à la page 81, il utilise l’anecdote mettant en scène Théophile de Chypre tirée des Miracles des Saints Cyr et Jean de Sophrone de Jérusalem (VIe – VIIe s.), sans en évoquer le caractère chrétien. Selon celle-ci, une figurine de forme humaine aux pieds et aux mains percées de clous causait souffrance et paralysie aux membres correspondants de Théophile et ce n’est qu’en ôtant les clous de la figurine que la douleur de celui-ci disparut. D.C. en conclut qu’au cours du VIe s. après J.-C., l’effet de la défixion était compris littéralement, l’action de transpercer produisant le mal. Mais, dans un contexte chrétien, ne doit-on pas plutôt y voir une référence aux clous avec lesquels le Christ a été crucifié ? De plus, dans de telles sources, il ne faut pas négliger le jugement de valeur porté sur les pratiques magiques païennes qui devaient être présentées comme néfastes.
11 En conclusion, si D.C. a eu raison de proposer une nouvelle réflexion sur les pratiques magiques antiques, il reste encore un travail énorme de collecte, édition, réédition et exégèse à faire sur les sources épigraphiques et papyrologiques, tant profanes que chrétiennes, pour pouvoir les exploiter dans leur ensemble et les confronter avec pertinence aux sources littéraires. Complétant les Papyrus Graecae Magicae, Die griechischen Zauberpapyrus de K. Preisendanz (édition revue et complétée par A. Henrichs, Stuttgart, 1973-1974), The Greek Magical Papyrus in Translation, Including the Demotic Spells édités par H.D. Betz (2e éd. revue, Chicago, 1992), ou encore les Defixionum Tabellae d’Audollent (Paris, 1904), de nouveaux outils permettent déjà d’accéder plus aisément à la description et à la bibliographie de tels écrits, telle la base de données d’A. Kropp consacrée aux tablettes de défixions latines qui vient d’être publiée (Defixiones: ein aktuelles Corpus lateinischer Fluchtafeln, Speyer, 2008; Magische Sprachverwendung in vulgärlateinischen Fluchtafeln, avec CR-ROM, Tübingen, 2008) et le Catalogue des papyrus iatromagiques grecs, élaboré dans le cadre de la préparation de ma
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thèse de doctorat, disponible à la fois sous forme imprimée (dans Papyrologica Lupiensia 13, 2004, p. 39-60) et sous forme électronique sur le site du CeDoPaL (http:// promethee.philo.ulg.ac.be/cedopal /Iatromagiques.htm). D’un autre côté, F. Maltomini annonce depuis plusieurs années l’élaboration d’un Corpus dei Papiri Magici Greci online (CPGM) (F. Maltomini, « P. Carlsberg. 52, p. 4 : dettagli » in C. Griggio, F. Vendruscolo [éd.], Suave mari magno... Studi offerti dai colleghi udinesi a Ernesto Berti, Udine, 2008, p. 183-185). En proposant un ouvrage de semi-vulgarisation, l’A. s’est heurté à la difficulté de l’exercice : faire le bilan de questions déjà bien connues des spécialistes de la magie, au risque de les lasser, et présenter des théories explicatives difficilement accessibles aux non-spécialistes car elles font appel à des notions d’anthropologie, d’histoire des religions, d’épigraphie ou de papyrologie qu’ils ne maîtrisent pas nécessairement.
NOTES
1. « Theoris of Lemnos and the Criminalization of Magic in Fourth-Century Athens », CQ51 (2001), p. 477-493), « Nature, Cause and Agency in Greek Magic », TAPhA133 (2003), p. 17-49, et « The Magic of Homeric Verses », CPh 103 (2008), p. 211-236.
AUTEURS
MAGALI DE HARO SANCHEZ Université de Liège
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Alberto Bernabé, Ana Isabel Jiménez San Cristóbal, Instructions for the Netherworld. The Orphic Gold Tablets
Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge
RÉFÉRENCE
Alberto BERNABÉ – Ana Isabel JIMÉNEZ SAN CRISTÓBAL, Instructions for the Netherworld. The
F0 Orphic Gold Tablets, Leiden, Brill, 2008. 1 vol. 16,5 B4 24,5 cm, 379 p. (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World, 162). ISBN : 978-90-04-16371-3.
1 La version espagnole de ce livre date de 2001. En 2004, A. Bernabé a également publié l’importante édition des Poetae Epici Graeci. Testimonia et Fragmenta II. Orphicorum et Orphicis similium testimonia et fragmenta fasc. 2 (Bibliotheca Teubneriana) et l’édition des textes que reprend l’Appendice 1 de l’ouvrage ici recensé tient évidemment compte de ce travail paru entre-temps. Il s’agit donc d’une analyse des tablettes « orphiques », parfaitement maîtrisée sur le plan philologique, par l’un des meilleurs connaisseurs de la littérature « orphique » au sens le plus large du terme, et de l’une de ses proches collaboratrices. L’usage des guillemets autour du qualificatif « orphique » – qui est mien – pose évidemment d’emblée le problème central de l’ouvrage, à savoir l’ancrage des tablettes en or, mises au jour dans des tombes, dans le cadre d’un courant de type sectaire sous la houlette d’Orphée. Pour les A., la cause est entendue et c’est « without hesitation » (p. 2) qu’ils identifient les utilisateurs de ces documents au groupe minoritaire des sectateurs du mouvement religieux orphique. Il est vrai que ce point de vue est aujourd’hui largement partagé, même si des nuances émergent dans le petit monde des exégètes de ces tablettes, et que ses adversaires les plus radicaux ne sont plus très nombreux1. Il n’en reste pas moins que l’absence totale d’Orphée de ces textes continue de poser question. Et quand bien même balaierait-on cette absence d’un
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revers de main, la prétendue « unité de croyance » des utilisateurs des tablettes reste difficile à établir. C’est pourtant une telle unité que les A. décèlent derrière tous ces documents. Mais, quelle que soit la qualité de l’érudition mise en œuvre – et elles est grande, – leur vision unitaire d’une « religion orphique » (« the adepts of this religion », p. 7) contraste avec le fonctionnement même du système religieux des Grecs, étranger à ce type de référent quasi dogmatique. D’aucuns y verront la preuve du caractère sectaire de la démarche – par un raisonnement qui frôle la circularité, – d’autres y ancreront leur réticence à situer parmi les représentations religieuses des Grecs ce type de référent. En fait, la seule certitude qui ressort de tous ces documents est davantage rituelle : derrière la plupart d’entre eux se profile un rituel de type initiatique auquel s’est soumis le défunt durant sa vie et qui lui permet d’accéder à un statut bienheureux dans l’au-delà. L’unité apparente qui sous-tend bon nombre de tablettes émane assurément de la nature initiatique de ce changement de statut, lié à un enseignement à garder en mémoire. Cela implique-t-il pour autant que ce soit le même contexte initiatique qui ait joué à chaque fois ?
2 Quoi qu’il en soit de ce débat dont on n’est sans doute pas près de sortir sans de nouveaux documents, l’ouvrage rendra d’éminents services à tous ceux qu’intéressent ces questions. Il est construit en douze chapitres, qui forment un ample commentaire des documents édités en annexe. Cela signifie que le texte grec doit toujours être recherché dans cette annexe et que seules des traductions sont produites au fil du commentaire. Quant au contenu de ce commentaire, les neuf premiers chapitres sont conçus en fonction de la typologie thématique des tablettes élaborée par les A., les textes correspondant à cette typologie étant donc systématiquement convoqués dans les chapitres adéquats. Ainsi, le 1er chapitre se concentre sur l’arrivée dans l’au-delà, qui caractérise bon nombre de documents. Le 2e chapitre aborde le rituel auquel le défunt se soumet pour accéder à son heureuse destinée, qui apparaît dans les deux tablettes de Pelinna. Le 3e chapitre se fonde sur une des tablettes de Thourioi où le défunt voit décrit son parcours post mortem dont l’objectif semble considéré comme atteint. Le 4e chapitre reprend d’autres tablettes de Thourioi où intervient Perséphone dans l’accueil du mort. Le 5e chapitre étudie la tablette la plus récente du corpus, trouvée à Rome, et qui est comme une variation sur le thème du chapitre précédent. Le 6e chapitre repart à Thourioi et se penche sur la plus énigmatique des tablettes qui y ont été trouvées, portant une accumulation de termes signifiants entourés d’éléments incompréhensibles. Il s’agirait de la dissimulation sciemment orchestrée d’éléments mystiques à la seule intention des initiés. Le 7e chapitre analyse deux textes de Pherai et aborde la question des « mots de passe » énoncé par le défunts pour accéder à l’au- delà. L’une des deux tablettes a été tout récemment publié par R. Parker et M. Stamatopoulou2 et fait surgir une Déméter Chthonia et une Mètèr Oreia dont les initiations sont invoquées par le mort en vue de rejoindre le thiase des mystes. Le « Bacchos » qui viendrait placer ce document dans la série « orphico-bacchique » ou « orphico-dionysiaque » est une restitution. Le texte le plus récemment mis au jour est donc venu compliquer encore le tableau, sans permettre de trancher définitivement le débat évoqué ci-dessus. Le 8e chapitre examine diverses tablettes provenant de Crète et d’ailleurs, dont le point commun est la brièveté, un salut aux dieux des enfers et la référence aux mystes.
3 Les quatre derniers chapitres sont indépendants de la typologie proprement dite. Le 9e chapitre résume ce que ces tablettes permettent de connaître de la destinée de l’âme,
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ce qui n’est évidemment possible qu’en postulant une même représentation d’arrière- plan pour l’ensemble, une option confirmée par le 10e chapitre qui réaffirme la nature orphique de tous ces documents. Le 11e chapitre collecte des parallèles dans d’autres cultures, comme le Livre des morts égyptien, le « Grand voyage de l’âme » hittite, certains aspects de l’eschatologie védique ou iranienne, et quelques tablettes qui viennent de Gaule et du monde punique. Le 12e et dernier chapitre aborde les questions littéraires liées aux tablettes, ce qui ouvre la réflexion sur le problème d’un éventuel modèle et de la relation de ces textes à un rituel antérieur et à leur propre utilisation rituelle. Le 1er appendice livre l’édition des tablettes et le 2 e, un ensemble de dessins reprenant des documents iconographiques censés renvoyer, peu ou prou, à l’orphisme (« approximations to the religious world of the Orphic tablets from the viewpoint of iconography », p. 275), un ensemble disparate qui fera certainement grincer quelques dents parmi les spécialistes des images.
4 La structure même de l’ouvrage est donc totalement tributaire de la conviction qu’une « religion orphique » unifiée a existé entre la période classique – au moins – et la période romaine, dans l’ensemble du monde grec. Cette religion avait ses fidèles qui, en marge du système religieux des cités, croyaient en la métempsycose et en la possibilité d’un au-delà bienheureux. Toutefois, les tablettes d’or ne permettent pas d’identifier la croyance en la métempsycose (la « libération » qu’elles invoquent n’est pas forcément un sortie du cycle des incarnations) et l’initiation éleusinienne promettait elle aussi un au-delà bienheureux. Faut-il donc aussi catégoriquement dissocier ce vaste ensemble documentaire du polythéisme grec traditionnel, dont bon nombre de réflexions des A. montrent qu’ils ont une vision assez datée ? Pour ma part, je me réjouis de disposer de cette remarquable somme d’information, mais je ne suis pas certaine que le dernier mot soit dit sur ces questions complexes.
NOTES
1. Voir sur ce point le compte rendu critique que Claude Calame a donné de l’ouvrage récent de Fr. Graf et S.I. Johnston, et de celui de M. Tortorelli-Ghidini, dans la livraison précédente de Kernos : 21 (2008), p. 299-311. 2. R. PARKER & M. STAMATOPOULOU, « A new funerary gold leaf from Pherai », AEphem (2004) [2007], p. 1-32.
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AUTEURS
VINCIANE PIRENNE-DELFORGE F.R.S.-FNRS – Université de Liège
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Bibliotheca Isiaca I
Laetizia Puccio
RÉFÉRENCE
Bibliotheca Isiaca I, sous la direction de Laurent BRICAULT, Bordeaux, Ausonius, 2008. 1
F0 vol. 21 B4 29,5 cm, 236 p. ISBN : 978-2-91002-399-7.
1 Ce premier volume de la Bibliotheca Isiaca inaugure une nouvelle collection consacrée aux études isiaques et plus largement aux relations entre l’Égypte et le reste du monde gréco-romain. Sans prétendre à l’exhaustivité, son directeur, Laurent Bricault, professeur d’histoire romaine à l’Université de Toulouse II-Le Mirail, y exprime clairement le souhait de réunir toutes les nouveautés dans ce domaine. Mieux encore, face à la multiplication des découvertes et des travaux relatifs au sujet, la série Bibliotheca Isiaca se veut un outil de travail actualisé, scientifique et utile à la fois pour le chercheur, l’enseignant et l’étudiant.
2 La présente livraison se divise en trois grandes parties ayant chacune une spécificité bien définie et une organisation propre. La première, intitulée Nova Isiaca, propose une série de neuf études dont le but est de faire connaître des documents nouveaux ou jusque-là inédits ou méconnus (p. 7-76). Rédigées par des spécialistes des études isiaques, elles se caractérisent par leur brièveté.
3 Laurent Bricault et Jean-Louis Podvin publient tout d’abord une trentaine de statuettes d’Isis en bronze et en argent, dont l’existence fut révélée ces dernières années à travers le commerce d’art (p. 7-21). Le lecteur que séduira la minutie des descriptions ne pourra que regretter, avec les A., l’absence de contexte de découverte. Ces petites statues contribuent néanmoins à enrichir les corpus existants et leur nature souligne l’importance de l’image dans le développement d’un culte. Chaque objet est illustré par une représentation de qualité. Marie-Christine Budischovsky, dans le même esprit, nous donne à connaître quatre bronzes inédits d’Anubis, vendus aux enchères, qu’elle classe selon la typologie adoptée par Jean Leclant dans le LIMC en 1981 (p. 23-30). Outre les nouvelles découvertes d’objets égyptiens ou égyptisants sur le sol italien, Giuseppina Capriotti Vittozzi propose de s’intéresser aux documents inédits trouvés
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dans les dépôts des musées; elle attire également l’attention sur l’intérêt qu’il y a à reconsidérer des objets déjà connus et soumet l’œuvre d’Athanasius Kircher à une nouvelle analyse qui a révélé encore bien des résultats surprenants (p. 31-37). La relecture du témoignage du jésuite allemand apporte des éléments qui mettent au jour un lieu de cultes isiaques probable : Orignanum Oppidum, près du Mont Socrate, où le syncrétisme avec des dieux préromains aux prérogatives liées aux eaux salutaires serait un indice de cette présence.
4 Le livre XI des Métamorphoses d’Apulée est sans aucun doute le plus important document littéraire isiaque qui nous soit parvenu. Valentino Gasparini suggère une étude approfondie des altaria (auxquels on donne le nom technique d’ auxilia)mentionnés lors de la cérémonie finale de la fête des Ploiaphésia (Ap., M., II, 10.8-18) (p. 39-47). Il démontre qu’il ne s’agit pas de simples candélabres, mais d’objets qui ont un rôle essentiel dans les cérémonies religieuses et, en particulier, les cérémonies isiaques au cours desquelles ils sont transportés par les pastophores à des fins sacrificielles.
5 Michel Malaise signe deux articles dans ce volume. Dans le premier, il analyse de façon très détaillée une statuette en bronze d’Harpocrate-Éros aux multiples attributs, dont on ne connaît pas d’équivalant à ce jour (p. 49-52). Sa réalisation, peut-être dans un atelier provincial à l’époque impériale (IIe-IIIe s.), concilie acquis gréco-romains et concepts égyptiens, révélant la richesse de l’iconographie harpocratique. Dans le second article, M. Malaise se livre au même exercice, cette fois pour tenter de comprendre l’emblème isiaque d’un signum pantheum en bronze (p. 53-58). Comme le précédent objet, il provient d’une vente aux enchères et son origine est inconnue. Sa taille et sa forme en croissant monté sur un pied animal suggèrent à l’A. qu’il doit s’agir d’un élément surmontant une statuette panthée. La présence du basileion met le document en rapport avec la déesse Isis, mais la comparaison avec les autres statuettes panthées connues n’offre pas de parallèle évident. Ce document sorti de l’ombre se révèle, une fois encore, exceptionnel et pour l’heure unique.
6 Spécialiste des lampes isiaques, Jean-Louis Podvin actualise le catalogue de celles présentant l’effigie de la triade Isis-Harpocrate-Anubis (p. 59-61). Il enregistre quatre nouvelles lampes pour l’Italie, trois pour la France, quatorze pour la péninsule Ibérique, cinq pour l’Afrique du Nord. Deux sont de provenance inconnue et trois sont douteuses (cf. tableau, p. 61). Ces lampes seraient une production italienne et, exportées notamment vers l’Hispanie et l’Afrique, elles y auraient été copiées. Associé à Richard Veymiers, qui étudie actuellement les cultes isiaques dans le Péloponnèse, le même J.-L. Podvin s’intéresse aussi aux nombreuses lampes corinthiennes à motifs isiaques (p. 63-68). Entre la fin du Ier et la fin du IIIe s. apr. J.-C., les thèmes isiaques sont à l’honneur sur les lampes de Corinthe. On les retrouve également dans d’autres cités de Grèce où elles ont souvent été achetées dans les ateliers corinthiens. Miguel John Versluys à qui l’on doit déjà une synthèse imposante sur les scènes nilotiques dans le monde romain (Aegyptiaca romana. Nilotic scenes and the Roman Views of Egypt, Leyde-Boston, 2002 [RGRW, 144]) présente une mosaïque inédite, provenant du Nord de l’Afrique romaine (p. 69-70). Par ses motifs inspirés de la vallée du Nil, ses caractéristiques correspondent aux exemples connus entre le IIe et le IVe s. apr. J.-C. en Hispanie et en Afrique du Nord.
7 Pour cette première partie uniquement, les renvois bibliographiques ont été réalisés d’après les normes propres aux publications des éditions Ausonius. Dans l’apparat critique figurent le(s) nom(s) de(s) l’auteur(s) de l’ouvrage ou de l’article et la date de sa
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publication, suivis de(s) la page(s) de renvoi. Les références complètes se situent à la fin des Nova Isiaca dans une section intitulée « Références bibliographiques » (p. 71-76).
8 La seconde partie de cette Bibliotheca Isiaca se veut une actualisation des deux corpus isiaques dressés par Laurent Bricault, le Recueil des Inscriptions concernant les Cultes Isiaques (RICIS) et la Sylloge Nummorum Religionis Isiacae et Sarapiacae (SNRIS). Ce dernier volume étant paru à l’automne 2008 après la Bibliotheca Isiaca I, il n’est pas concerné par ce premier supplément. La contribution s’organise en deux volets. Le premier réunit des compléments aux inscriptions déjà publiées (p. 77-103), tandis que le second fait connaître 49 nouvelles inscriptions découvertes principalement autour de la Méditerranée orientale, en Italie et dans la Germanie antique (p. 104-122). Parmi celles-ci, on notera l’apparition d’une nouvelle copie de l’arétalogie d’Isis à Cassandrea, datée du IIe siècle de notre ère. Le site de l’ancienne Maronée a dévoilé cinq inscriptions supplémentaires dont une est adressée à la tétrade Sarapis, Isis, Anubis et Harpocrate (114/0208, p. 107) et deux sur lesquelles l’A. exprime un doute quant à leur appartenance à la sphère isiaque. Un nouveau sanctuaire, peut-être commun à Isis et à la Magna Mater, est apparu à Mayence (Mogonticum) lors des fouilles effectuées entre 1999 et 2001. Une des inscriptions est dédiée à Isidi Pantheae, une épiclèse plus rare, qui est également attestée en Bétique (RICIS 602/0701), et qui équivaut à la formule typique « myrionyme ».
9 Un précieux index composé de douze entrées permet de voyager aisément dans ce supplément (p. 123-130). Une connaissance préalable du RICIS facilite néanmoins son utilisation puisque Laurent Bricault a repris exactement l’organisation arrêtée pour les trois volumes de 2005, à l’exception du recueil de planches : lorsque des illustrations des inscriptions étaient disponibles, l’auteur les a directement insérées sous le texte.
10 La troisième partie correspond à la suite de l’Inventaire bibliographique des Isiaca et des Sarapiaca (IBIS) initié par Jean Leclant et Gisèle Clerc dans les années soixante-dix (p. 131-230). Les deux savants français avaient en effet dressé en quatre volumes un Répertoire analytique des travaux relatifs à la diffusion des cultes isiaques (1940-1969), publiés entre 1972 et 1991 dans la collection des EPRO dévolue, à l’époque, aux religions orientales et devenue maintenant les RGRW (Religions in the Graeco-Roman World). Pour la période comprise entre 1970 et 1999 ainsi que pour les compléments des années 1940-1969, plutôt que de publier neuf volumes supplémentaires, la base de données IBIS est en cours d’actualisation et sera prochainement mise en ligne par étapes dans le courant de l’année 2009 (cf. http://www. etudes-isiaques.fr/).
11 La Chronique bibliographique 2000-2004 a été rédigée par Laurent Bricault (LB), Marie- Christine Budischovsky (MCB), Anemari Bugarski-Mesdjian (ABM), Michel Malaise (MM), Jean-Louis Podvin (JLP) et Miguel John Versluys (MJV). Elle recense et analyse plus de 400 titres qui touchent de près ou de loin aux isiaca et aux domaines d’études qui lui sont proches. Toutes les notices ont été rédigées en français; elles peuvent être brèves ou plus longues selon l’ouvrage recensé. L’index de la chronique est intégré à l’index général du volume (p. 233-236), qui est précédé d’un index épigraphique ne reprenant pas les données des pages 77 à 121 qui possèdent leur propre index détaillé (p. 231-232). La table des matières se trouve au début du volume.
12 L’étude de la diffusion des cultes isiaques se caractérise donc par un dynamisme certain. Depuis 1999, elle possède également sa propre réunion scientifique qui a lieu tous les quatre ans. Cette nouvelle série, qui est le reflet d’un long travail associant de nombreux chercheurs, lui donne désormais ses lettres de noblesse.
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AUTEURS
LAETIZIA PUCCIO F.R.S.-FNRS – Université de Liège
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Lydie Bodiou, Dominique Frère, Véronique Mehl (éds), Parfums et odeurs dans l’Antiquité, et Annie Verbanck-Piérard, Natacha Massar, Dominique Frère (éds), Parfums de l’Antiquité. La rose et l’encens en Méditerranée
Natacha Massar
RÉFÉRENCE
Lydie BODIOU, Dominique FRÈRE, Véronique MEHL (éds), Parfums et odeurs dans l’Antiquité,
F0 Rennes, Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2008. 1 vol. 22 B4 28 cm, 279 p. (Archéologie & Culture). ISBN : 978-2-7535-0638-1. Annie VERBANCK-PIÉRARD, Natacha MASSAR, DominiqueFRÈRE (éds), Parfums de l’Antiquité. La
F0 rose et l’encens en Méditerranée, Musée royal de Mariemont, 2008. 1 vol. 22,5 B4 27,5 cm, 488 p., nbr. ill. (catalogue d’exposition). ISBN : 2-930469-17-X.
1 Le parfum, les contenants à huile parfumée, les fumées odorantes, des sujets longtemps délaissés, ont suscité récemment un grand regain d’intérêt. Deux ouvrages parus en 2008 présentent une série d’études sur ce sujet qui touchent à des questions sociales, mythologiques, religieuses. Tous deux ont privilégié des approches pluridisciplinaires qui exploitent des sources extrêmement variées.
2 Dans le volume dirigé par L. Bodiou, D. Frère et V. Mehl, les études qui abordent des questions religieuses utilisent, à une exception près, des sources écrites, littéraires et,
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dans une moindre mesure, épigraphiques. Les textes disent à foison le parfum des dieux et, par extension, celle du roi divin par excellence, Alexandre le Grand (F. Prost, L. Bodiou. M. Briand). Les figures divines sentent bon par essence, ce qui n’empêche pas les déesses de se parer de senteurs pour mieux séduire un époux ou un amant, des gestes qu’imitent les humaines. Leurs vêtements sont imprégnés de leur parfum, leurs lieux de naissance et de séjour embaument, une caractéristique qui s’étend à leurs sanctuaires, surtout au naos. Les hommes qui veulent en appeler aux dieux doivent ajouter de nouvelles odeurs agréables en ces lieux, offrir des sacrifices de myrrhe et d’encens ou dédier des brûle-encens (Fr. Prost, L. Bodiou). Les soins apportés à la statue de culte contribuent à cette ambiance olfactive puisqu’elle peut être ointe d’huile parfumée (Fr. Prost). Les peintres de vases attiques se sont également efforcés de représenter la bonne odeur des sacrifices de diverses manières (N. Kei). Ces études révèlent la diversité des sources qui évoquent ces questions et proposent des pistes de recherche prometteuses pour qui s’intéresse à ces problématiques. On déplorera cependant la mauvaise qualité des images dans ce volume, toujours en noir et blanc, et souvent grisâtres, ainsi que la pratique d’« enjoliver » d’images les études qui se fondent sur les textes.
3 Dans le volume Parfums de l’Antiquité, plusieurs articles traitent des sacrifices odorants et du lien entre parfums et divinités, surtout en ce qui concerne la Grèce classique. Les études se fondent sur des sources beaucoup plus variées et abordent des thématiques plus pointues que le volume précédent. L’odeur des dieux et des sacrifices est omniprésente, mais donne lieu ici à une étude sur la place du sacrifice d’encens dans les offrandes végétales, les contextes d’utilisation des thymiatèria (processions, rituels, offrandes, …), les lieux de dédicace de vases à parfum (L. Bruit, N. Massar, I. Algrain). La place des parfums et de l’encens dans les rites de passage du mariage et des funérailles est étudiée au départ des textes, des images et des objets (L. Bodiou et V. Mehl, N. Massar). Certains mythes sont revisités à la lumière de cette thématique, en particulier ceux qui traitent de la transformation d’humains en végétaux odorants (A. Lallemand) et les mythes d’Adonis et de Phaon, analysés par le biais de l’image (A. Verbanck- Piérard).
4 Ce bref aperçu suffit, je l’espère, à mettre en évidence l’intérêt de ce thème pour les études religieuses. La question des bonnes odeurs, souvent négligée, permet de mieux cerner l’identité de certaines figures divines, le fonctionnement de récits mythiques, le déroulement de nombreuses pratiques rituelles. Cette dimension olfactive, parfois évoquée de manière allusive, joue néanmoins un rôle essentiel, comme l’attestent des sources nombreuses et variées. Ce thème de recherche se révèle d’une grande richesse et mérite certainement d’être approfondi.
AUTEURS
NATACHA MASSAR Musées royaux d’Art et d’Histoire, Université libre de Bruxelles
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Peter Kingsley, Dans les antres de la sagesse. Études parménidiennes
André Motte
RÉFÉRENCE
Peter KINGSLEY, Dans les antres de la sagesse. Études parménidiennes, traduit de l’anglais par
F0 H.D. Saffrey, Paris, Les Belles Lettres, 2007. 1 vol. 15 B4 21,5 cm, 212 p. (Vérité des mythes, 30). ISBN : 978-2-251-32442-5.
1 Présenter comme une belle histoire le contenu d’un ouvrage qui paraît dans une collection vouée à l’étude des mythes ne devrait pas surprendre. L’A. lui-même n’en prendra pas ombrage, c’est certain, car non seulement il a donné ce titre à l’un des chapitres du livre, mais il a voulu aussi que l’ensemble prenne la forme d’un long récit à suspense, composé d’une bonne vingtaine de petits tiroirs. Il compare d’ailleurs son œuvre à un puzzle. C’est dire que la figure principale se dessine progressivement et ne se découvre qu’après l’assemblage d’une majorité de pièces. On reconnaîtra volontiers que l’objectif de capter l’intérêt est atteint : on est pris par une sorte d’intrigue et pressé souvent de tourner les pages…
2 La figure en question, on l’aura deviné, est celle de Parménide. Mais attention ! ce n’est pas précisément le philosophe qu’une vulgate contemporaine se plaît à consacrer dans le rôle d’inventeur de la rationalité occidentale. L’ambition du livre est, en effet, de faire revivre « la véritable figure » du personnage de Parménide, une figure que « le monde moderne a presque oubliée ». La belle histoire se veut donc aussi une histoire vraie, même si, reconnaît l’A., une part de fiction se mêle parfois à la réalité, quand il sera question, par exemple, du voyage qu’évoque le philosophe d’Élée dans son prologue. Les Muses d’Hésiode ne procédaient pas autrement, et ceux qu’elles inspirent, poètes et philosophes, font comme elles. Il n’est pas sûr cependant que, sous le rapport du vrai, l’ouvrage récolte une audience aussi large que celle que lui vaudra peut-être la belle histoire qu’il raconte.
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3 Mais quel est donc ce Parménide dont nous aurions perdu la mémoire ? C’est un penseur mystique et inspiré, qui aurait été prêtre d’Apollon et, à ce titre, prophète, guérisseur ainsi que législateur. Cet Apollon Oulios, bien différent du dieu qui nous est familier, aurait été importé en Grande Grèce par les Phocéens lorsqu’ils fondèrent Élée, la cité où vécut Parménide. C’est un dieu de l’extase et de l’incubation et à ce titre, nous dit-on, compagnon de la mort, associé du reste au monde souterrain comme aussi au soleil. Car, pour P.K., le voyage mythique que Parménide décrit au début de son poème, est sans conteste une sorte de descente initiatique aux Enfers; la thèse d’un voyage céleste n’a même pas droit à la discussion. Aussi bien la déesse anonyme qui accueille le philosophe est-elle sans aucun doute Perséphone, celle qui du reste avait déjà accueilli Héraclès et Orphée. C’est donc une expérience de mort (« mourir avant de mourir ») qu’évoque le voyage de Parménide, adepte des rites d’incubation pratiqués dans une sorte de tanière, et c’est de là que lui seraient venues ses révélations. On apprend encore, entre autres choses, que le philosophe fut étroitement concerné par des traditions héroïques chères aux Phocéens : il aurait fait héroïser son maître Ameinias, un philosophe pythagoricien, et lui-même aurait fait à Élée l’objet d’un culte.
4 La thèse d’un Parménide mystique n’est pas nouvelle et, en soi, n’a rien de farfelu. Qu’il suffise de rappeler que le rationalisme et la mystique ont fait quelquefois très bon ménage dans la longue histoire de la philosophie, à commencer, en Grèce, par les pythagoriciens. L’A. verse au dossier des éléments nouveaux qu’il exploite habilement grâce à une vaste et solide érudition. Outre l’enquête intéressante menée du côté de l’Ionie d’où proviennent les ancêtres des Éléates, les pièces maîtresses sont faites d’une statue de Parménide et de quelques modestes inscriptions mises au jour à Élée voici quelques dizaines d’années.
5 En refermant l’ouvrage, on ne peut s’empêcher de penser que, pour être crédible dans la thèse qu’il défend, l’A. en fait à la fois trop et trop peu. Il a certes raison de penser que, pour bien comprendre Parménide, il faut connaître le contexte culturel dans lequel il a baigné, mais il a tort d’être à cet égard trop unilatéral. Car, s’agissant précisément d’Élée, on sait que Xénophane, qui s’y installa après avoir émigré lui aussi d’Ionie en compagnie des Phocéens, se moquait des conceptions mystiques de son contemporain Pythagore et que, très intéressé par les questions théologiques et religieuses, il aurait aussi exprimé de graves réserves au sujet de la mantique et de l’inspiration divine : « ce sont les hommes qui, avec le temps, en cherchant, découvrent le meilleur » (fr. B 18 DK). Voilà, à tout le moins, un autre son de cloche qu’il eu fallu aussi prendre en compte. Mais il est un autre « trop peu » bien plus flagrant. Dans cet ouvrage entièrement consacré au « père de la philosophie » qu’on nous présente comme un modèle à suivre, il n’est jamais question de l’enseignement de ses écrits, mis à part quelques allusions au prologue. Vouloir prouver que Parménide est un mystique sans rien dire de la philosophie qu’il enseigne relève d’un étonnant paradoxe. Ajoutons, à propos aussi de la méthode, que ne sont jamais discutés les arguments de ceux qui ont défendu des thèses opposées à celle de l’A. Aucun dialogue n’est donc instauré.
6 Le « trop » réside dans la multiplicité des éléments, parfois trop hâtivement réunis, mais surtout dans une assurance excessive dont l’A. se départit rarement. Car les indices invoqués sont souvent bien maigres et fragiles. C’est ainsi que les inscriptions dont il vient d’être question sont au moins de cinq siècles postérieures à Parménide, ce qui devrait inciter à plus de prudence. Enfin, l’ouvrage baigne dans une curieuse atmosphère de règlement de compte avec la modernité et d’exaltation de l’attitude
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mystique, présentée comme tellement salutaire pour notre monde. Bref, cet essai pratique le mélange des genres et, s’il intéresse grandement par le sujet traité et par certaines trouvailles, il ne laisse pas d’irriter aussi par le ton et par la manière.
AUTEURS
ANDRÉ MOTTE Université de Liège
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Philippe Borgeaud, Francesca Prescendi (éds), Religions antiques. Une introduction comparée Égypte – Grèce – Proche-Orient – Rome
Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge
RÉFÉRENCE
Philippe BORGEAUD – Francesca PRESCENDI (éds), Religions antiques. Une introduction
F0 comparée Égypte – Grèce – Proche-Orient – Rome, Genève, Labor et Fides, 2008. 1 vol. 14,5 B4 22,5 cm, 188 p. ISBN : 978-2-8309-1250-0.
1 Il s’agit d’un excellent ouvrage dont l’ambition d’introduire aux religions antiques est pleinement rencontrée. Les étudiants y trouveront un exposé clair sans être simpliste, bien documenté sans être saturé de références érudites. Les enseignants en histoire des religions de l’Antiquité pourront se fonder sur de courtes synthèses élaborées par d’excellents experts des domaines concernés, qui font de la comparaison le cadre opératoire d’une approche fine de chaque système religieux abordé et non une théorie abstraite cherchant à les englober tous dans une même visée. Cinq des sept chapitres du livre sont d’ailleurs le fait d’une collaboration entre deux spécialistes de domaines différents.
2 Les thèmes choisis pour donner corps à cette « introduction comparée » font partie des problématiques parmi les plus importantes dans le domaine de l’histoire des religions. Ainsi, le 1er chapitre (Ph. Borgeaud, Fr. Prescendi) aborde la question du polythéisme et de la manière dont il fonctionne au sein des sociétés grecque et romaine. Le 2e chapitre (Fr. Prescendi) livre une importante réflexion, parfaitement au courant des enjeux les plus récents, sur la pratique sacrificielle en Grèce et à Rome. Et comme la comparaison avec l’Égypte fait partie du programme, le 3e chapitre (Y. Volokhine) montre que l’abattage d’un animal se pense différemment au pays du Nil et que l’approche des
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dieux épouse d’autres voies, notamment divinatoires. Et c’est à la divination à Rome et en Grèce que s’attache également le 4e chapitre (D. Jaillard, Fr. Prescendi), en posant notamment l’épineux problème de ce qui peut apparaître, à un rationaliste moderne, comme une manipulation cynique de signes prétendument divins. En fondant la réflexion sur l’historiographie de l’histoire des religions, le 5e chapitre (N. Durisch Gauthier, Fr. Prescendi) analyse le couple « magie – religion » qui a fait florès depuis les analyses de Frazer, Freud et Mauss, jusqu’aux réflexions récentes sur la question. Loin de toute théorisation, quelques analyses de cas allant de l’Égypte à la Grèce et à Rome offrent l’image nuancée d’une série de pratiques dont l’identification passe par la mise en contexte minutieuse des actes posés et du regard social qui les identifiait. Le 6e chapitre (Ph. Borgeaud, Th. Römer) est davantage concerné par la mythologie comparée. Là encore, des études précises du motif de l’origine de l’humanité en Mésopotamie, dans la Bible et en Grèce permettent de souligner des convergences, qui relèvent parfois de l’influence réciproque – c’est le cas du thème du déluge, – mais dont la mise en contexte soigneuse montre la diversité des points de vue et des interprétations, tant entre les cultures qu’en leur sein. La dimension mythique des récits bibliques du livre de la Genèse ressort très clairement de cette comparaison lumineuse. Enfin, le 7e et dernier chapitre (A.A. Nagy, Fr. Prescendi) touche à une problématique très actuelle de la recherche sur les polythéismes antiques, à savoir la question des prétendues « religions orientales » ainsi que Franz Cumont les avait nommées en 1906. Cette brève synthèse, incisive, réinstalle ces prétendues « religions » à leur place, au cœur des polythéismes antiques, en montrant également les limites de l’innovation religieuse et de la prétendue « tolérance » des systèmes religieux de l’Antiquité. Il se referme sur une brève analyse du triomphe du christianisme.
3 Chaque chapitre est suivi d’une orientation bibliographique à jour, mais volontairement non exhaustive, et l’ensemble est assorti d’un index des noms propres. On ne peut donc que conseiller la lecture de ce petit ouvrage bien fait et bien écrit à tous ceux qu’intéressent les religions antiques et surtout dans le cadre d’un enseignement.
AUTEURS
VINCIANE PIRENNE-DELFORGE F.R.S.-FNRS – Université de Liège
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Jan N. Bremmer, Greek Religion and Culture, the Bible and the Ancient Near East
Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge
RÉFÉRENCE
Jan N. BREMMER, Greek Religion and Culture, the Bible and the Ancient Near East, Leiden/
F0 Boston, Brill, 2008. 1 vol. 16,5 B4 24,5 cm, 424 p. (Jerusalem Studies in Religion and Culture, 8). ISBN : 978-90-04-16473-4.
1 Cet ouvrage s’inscrit dans la tradition bien établie des Kleine Schriften, rassemblant en 15 chapitres des articles déjà publiés. Toutefois, l’A. n’a pas versé dans la facilité d’une simple reproduction à l’identique : la mise à jour rigoureuse de ces études, parfois profondément revues, fait de l’ensemble une précieuse mine d’information sur chacun des sujets abordés. De plus, le fil conducteur de tous ces chapitres réside dans un questionnement systématique sur les relations entre représentations mythiques et rituels grecs, et les traditions proche-orientales, en ce comprise la tradition judéo- chrétienne, ainsi que l’atteste le titre du recueil. Il ne s’agit donc pas d’une simple juxtaposition de circonstance.
2 Sans entrer dans le détail de chacun des textes, disons que la plupart des sujets d’analyse se prêtent particulièrement bien à l’exercice de la comparaison : les mythes de création (chap. 1), Ève et Pandora (chap. 2), la naissance du Paradis (chap. 3), les crimes fratricides (y compris à Rome) (chap. 4), Kronos, les Titans et les combats entre puissances divines (chap. 5), les traditions du déluge (chap. 6), Eurydice et la femme de Lot (chap. 7), les devins itinérants (chap. 8), la question du rapport entre l’hébreu lishkah et le grec leschè (chap. 9), l’expulsion du bouc-émissaire (chap. 10), les révélations divines comme « rencontres du troisième type » vécues notamment par Héliodore et saint Paul (chap. 11), le mythe de la toison d’or (chap. 15). La comparaison à l’œuvre dans ces analyses, toujours respectueuses des contextes, est régulièrement
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assortie de la conviction d’une influence à l’œuvre derrière les ressemblances, à l’instar des approches de W. Burkert et de M. West. Toutefois, à quelques exceptions près, les canaux par lesquels des motifs mythiques ou des rituels auraient traversé la mer Égée restent mal connus, et les processus à l’œuvre dans la transmission et dans l’adaptation échappent. Par quelle(s) voie(s) les poètes grecs ont-il eu connaissance des traditions proche-orientales ? Par quelle voie des rituels ou des noms se sont-ils frayés un chemin vers la Grèce ? L’espace ouvert aux hypothèses reste fort large et le caractère opératoire de l’explication par l’origine s’en trouve limité.
3 C’est évidemment dans la pluralité des regards et des méthodes que résident la richesse et l’intérêt de la recherche sur les problèmes posés par l’histoire religieuse antique : je suis de ceux qui considèrent que connaître l’origine d’un dieu ou d’un motif mythique – si tant est que ce soit possible – restera toujours secondaire, en terme de portée et de signification, par rapport à l’analyse fine des modalités de son appropriation et de son intégration dans la culture qui le reçoit. Il est donc un petit nombre d’analyses où, tout en saluant la largeur de vue de l’enquête, le sceptique reste au bord du chemin. C’est notamment le cas du chapitre 13, qui pose le problème de l’origine du nom d’Asclépios, au départ d’une réflexion sur le culte d’Apollon Aiglètès sur l’île d’Anaphè, dont l’étiologie se trouve dans les Argonautiques d’Apollonios de Rhodes.
4 La question de la magie reçoit un traitement particulier puisqu’elle apparaît à la fois dans le chapitre 12, qui se penche sur l’origine perse du terme et son cheminement en Grèce et à Rome, et l’appendice II qui inscrit la polarité « magie – religion » dans l’historiographie du XIXe siècle. Il faut également mettre en exergue le remarquable chapitre sur Attis, publié en 2004 dans la revue Mnemosyne : il s’agit d’une véritable petite monographie sur cette figure à la croisée de l’Asie Mineure, de la Grèce et de Rome, qui est exemplaire de la méthode de travail rigoureuse de l’A. et de la manière limpide dont il pose les problèmes. Soulignons encore le beau chapitre sur le bouc- émissaire, qui rassemble trois études antérieures, dont le Scapegoat rituals in ancient Greece qui avait fait date (l’article a paru en 1983 dans les Harvard Studies in Classical Philology) et fut repris dans les Oxford Readings in Greek Religion édités par Richard Buxton en 2000. L’ensemble est très soigneusement édité, avec une bibliographie foisonnante et un excellent index.
AUTEURS
VINCIANE PIRENNE-DELFORGE F.R.S.-FNRS – Université de Liège
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Claude Calame, Sentiers transversaux. Entre poétiques grecques et politiques contemporaines
Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge
RÉFÉRENCE
Claude CALAME, Sentiers transversaux. Entre poétiques grecques et politiques contemporaines, études réunies par David Bouvier, Martin Steinrück et Pierre Voelke, Grenoble, Jérôme F0 Millon, 2008. 1 vol. 15,5 B4 23,5 cm, 332 p. (coll. Horos). ISBN : 978-2-84137-239-3.
1 Lorsque Claude Calame a quitté sa chaire de langue et littérature grecques à Lausanne pour devenir directeur d’études à l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales à Paris, quelques élèves et collègues ont décidé de mettre au point une sorte de vision synthétique du chemin parcouru en republiant, sous le titre bien choisi de Sentiers transversaux, une palette de 15 articles significatifs de ce parcours et qui n’avaient encore fait l’objet d’aucune réédition. Dans un avant-propos, les trois éditeurs du volume en expliquent l’intention et la mise en œuvre, tandis qu’une note de Cl. Calame lui fait suite, en donnant un ton davantage personnel à la mise en contexte du livre.
2 Les différentes parties de l’ouvrage sont de belles illustrations des intérêts diversifiés de l’A. La première s’intitule « Catégories anthropologiques et poétiques ». Elle reprend un long entretien, paru dans les Cahiers de la Torpille en 1999, qui concerne la parution alors récente de deux des maîtres-ouvrages que sont Thésée et l’imaginaire athénien et Mythe et histoire dans l’Antiquité grecque. Les deux articles suivants ont tous deux été publiés dans Kernos, le premier en 1991, sur les notions de « mythe » et de « rite », et le second dans le volume anniversaire des dix ans de la revue, en 1997, sur L’Hymne homérique à Déméter. Qu’il me soit permis de souligner ici combien la confiance et la générosité alors témoignées à une revue scientifique naissante par un chercheur
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comme Claude Calame n’a pas peu contribué à sa réussite progressive. Le troisième article de cette partie se concentre sur la question des genres littéraires, et surtout de la mal nommée « lyrique », dont l’A. est un des meilleurs spécialistes et farouche adversaire de la dénomination en question !
3 Le lecteur qu’intéressent les questions religieuses et l’interrogation sur les récits mythiques trouvera également dans la deuxième partie un éventail de contributions importantes, sous le titre générique de « Légendes, cultes et formes poétiques ». On y trouve une étude des « Figures grecques du gigantesque », une analyse de l’arrière-plan complexe du processus qui a conduit à l’héroïsation d’Hésiode, au départ d’un minutieux décodage de la visite de l’Hélicon par Pausanias, et la version française d’un article paru initialement en italien dans la monumentale entreprise de S. Settis intitulée I Greci. Storia, cultura, arte, società. Il s’agit d’une étude importante qui place la fête grecque dans le cadre choral dont elle est indissociable et souligne ses modes d’expression récurrents, au-delà des particularités locales qui peuvent se manifester dans son organisation. La poésie énoncée dans un tel cadre est un acte rituel, comme le montre en particulier la mise en contexte de poèmes de Pindare, des proèmes des hymnes homériques et de chants du symposium.
4 La 3e partie de l’ouvrage illustre les intérêts pour la sémiotique, qui remontent au passage de l’A. par Urbino, au centre de recherche en ce domaine, alors animé par Bruno Gentili. Sous l’intitulé « Énonciation et discours », elle regroupe une étude intitulée « Pour une sémiotique de l’énonciation : discours et sujet », un important article où l’A. mettait très tôt en doute l’attribution des tablettes d’or trouvées dans des tombes à un courant « orphique », un essai intitulé « Quand dire c’est faire voir : l’évidence dans la rhétorique ancienne », et un autre sur « Rythme, voix et mémoire de l’écriture en Grèce classique ».
5 La dernière partie, justement nommée « Regards politiques », sort de la Grèce comme terrain anthropologique pour se concentrer sur les dangers courus par les sciences de l’Antiquité face à une idéologie néo-libérale et une « culture de supermarché » galopantes. On y voit aussi dénoncés les problèmes posés par un regard occidental – et plus particulièrement « touristique » – porté sur une danse traditionnelle de la culture balinaise, tout autant que les distorsions introduites par les effets énonciatifs du genre de l’auteur d’une monographie ethnographique. Le dernier article est celui du militant qui dénonce les effets textuels pervers du cadre policier, administratif et juridique qui accueille les demandes d’asile en Suisse. Cette dimension de la démarche critique de Cl. Calame, sans doute moins connue de ses lecteurs philologues ou historiens, montre un chercheur présent sur le terrain politique et qui met les instruments de sa réflexion scientifique au service de son engagement citoyen.
6 Le volume se referme sur la bibliographie complète de Claude Calame présentée par ordre chronologique.
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AUTEURS
VINCIANE PIRENNE-DELFORGE F.R.S.-FNRS – Université de Liège
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Chronique des activités scientifiques
Revue des livres
Actes de colloques, ouvrages collectifs et anthologies
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Revue des actes de colloques, ouvrages collectifs et anthologies
1 AUGER D., PEIGNEY J. (éds),ΦΙΛΕΥΡΙΠΊΔΗΣ – Phileuripidès. Mélanges offerts à François Jouan, Paris, Presses Universitaires de Paris 10, 2008. Françoise BADER, Noms propres mythiques en polarité : temps humain et temps cosmique, p. 39-52; André MOTTE – Vinciane PIRENNE-DELFORGE, Quand les dieux font la fête, p. 65-92; Paul WATHELET, Sarpédon, fils de Zeus, dans l’Iliade et après, p. 103-115; Michelle LACORE, La paternité d’Apollon dans la VIe Olympique de Pindare et dans Ion d’Euripide, p. 117-137; Alain BILLAULT, Orphée dans les Argonautiques d’Apollonios de Rhodes, p. 197-207; Carlos GARCÍA GUAL, El astuto Jasón, la bárbara Medea y la sombra mítica de Ariadna, p. 209-217; Francis VIAN, Silènes, satyres et Pans dans les batailles nonniennes, p. 219-225; Alain MOREAU, Le discours d’Étéocle (Eschyle, Les Sept contre Thèbes, v. 1-38) : le sacrifice d’un chef, p. 261-274; Michel FARTZOFF, Le héros et son action dans l’Orestie d’Eschyle : quelques considérations, p. 275-291; Filomena HIRATA, L’espace féminin dans le Prométhée enchaîné, p. 305-315; Jacqueline DE ROMILLY, Les dieux et les hommes : deux soupirs d’Euripide, p. 389-403; Jocelyne PEIGNEY, Polyphème, dieu, bête et nomade : les jeux de la parodie dans le Cyclope d’Euripide, p. 447-463; Paul DEMONT, L’Ajax de Sophocle et l’iconographie d’Ajax, p. 603-613.
2 BOBAS Constantin, EVANGELIDIS Constantin, MILIONI Tatiana, MULLER Arthur (éds), Λαϊκές δοξασίες. Τελετουργίες και αναπαραστάσεις στην ανατολική Μεσόγειο. Croyances populaires. Rites et représentations en Méditerranée orientale. Actes du Colloque de Lille (2-4 décembre 2004), Athènes, 2008. Vinciane PIRENNE-DELFORGE, La notion de « populaire » est-elle applicable au polythéisme grec ?, p. 17-27; Éric LHÔTE, Dieux, héros, démons dans les lamelles de Dodone, p. 29-35; Jacky KOSLOWSKI, Sur des rites féminins populaires : significations des thesmophories en Grèce, p. 37-54; Stéphanie HUYSECOM-HAXHI, La mort avant le mariage : superstitions et croyances dans le monde grec à travers les images en terre cuite déposées dans les tombes d’enfants et de jeunes gens, p. 55-81; Florence MAJOREL, Rites et superstitions au IIe s. ap. J.-C. dans l’Orient romain. Les exemples d’Alexandre ou le faux prophète et de la Déesse syrienne de Lucien de Samosate, p. 123-140.
3 BOL Renate, HÖCKMANN Ursula, SCHOLLMEYER Patrick (éds), Kult(ur)kontakte: Apollon in Milet/Didyma, Histria, Myus, Naukratis und auf Zypern. Akten der Table Ronde in Mainz
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vom 11.-12. März 2004, Rahden, Leidorf, 2008 (Internationale Archäologie. Arbeitsgemeinschaft, Symposium, Tagung Kongress, 11). A. HERDA, Apollon Delphinios – Apollon Didymeus: Zwei Gesichter eines milesischen Gottes und ihr Bezug zur Kolonisation Milets in archaischer Zeit, p. 13-85; H. BUMKE, Zeugnisse für Kulturtransfer aus dem archaischen Apollonheiligtum von Didyma, p. 87-103; W. GÜNTHER, ‘Der Gott als Erbe’ – zu einem Inschriftenfund aus Didyma, p. 105; A. AVRAM, I. BÎRZESCU, K. ZIMMERMANN, Die apollinische Trias von Histria, p. 107-143; R. BOL, Die Statue des Apollon Termintheus von Myus und ihre Zweitaufstellung in Milet: Ein Beispiel von Kulturübertragung oder Zeugnis politischer Annexion?, p. 145-161; N. EHRHARDT, U. HÖCKMANN, U. SCHLOTZHAUER, Weihungen an Apollon Didymeus und Apollon Milesios in Naukratis, p. 163-181; K. KLEIBL, Repräsentation einer thronenden Widdergottheit in Heiligtümern des Apollon auf Zypern, p. 183-205; P. SCHOLLMEYER, Apollon in der zyprischen Kleinplastik: Ein Paradigma interkulturellen Religionstransfers?, p. 207-217; R. BOL, Apollon, ‘der griechischste der Götter’ auf Zypern: Zur Bronzestatue aus Tamassos, p. 219-229.
4 BONNET Corinne, RIBICHINI Sergio, STEUERNAGEL Dirk (éds), Religioni in contatto nel mediterraneo antico. Modalità di diffusione e processi di interferenza. Atti del 3° colloquio su « le religioni orientali nel mondo greco e romano », Loveno di Menaggio (Como), 26-28 maggio 2006, Pisa/Roma, Fabrizio Serra Editore, 2008 (Mediterranea. Quaderni annuali dell’ istituto di studi sulle civiltà italiche e del mediterraneo antico del consiglio nazionale delle ricerche già « quaderni di archeologia etrusco-italica », 4, 2007). Laurent BRICAULT, Fonder un lieu de culte, p. 49-64; Anna VAN DEN KERCHOVE, La voie d’Hermès, la question des sacrifices et les « cultes orientaux », p. 191-204; Constantinos MACRIS, Les « hommes divins » et leurs dieux : le cas des cultes « orientaux », p. 219-232.
5 BRESSON Alain, IVANTCHIK Askold, FERRARY Jean-Louis (éds), Une koinè pontique. Cités grecques, sociétés indigènes et empires mondiaux sur le littoral nord de la mer noire (VIIe s. a.C. – IIIe s. p.C.), Bordeaux, 2007 (Ausonius. Mémoires, 18).
D. BRAUND, Parthenos and the nymphs at Crimean Chersonesos: colonial appropriation and native integration, p. 191-200; S. BUJSKIKH, Der Achilleus-Kult und die griechische Kolonisation des unteren Bug-Gebiets, p. 201-212; I.V. TUNKINA, New data on the Panhellenic Achilles’ sanctuary on the Tendra Spit (excavations of 1824), p. 225-240; A. AVRAM, K. ZIMMERMANN, M. MARGINEANU-CÂRSTOIU, I. BÎRZESCU, Nouvelles données sur la zone sacrée d’Histria, p. 241-249.
6 COPPOLA Alessandra (éd.), Eroi, eroismi, eroizzazioni dalla Grecia antica a Padova e Venezia. Atti del Convegno Internazionale (Padova, 18-19 settembre 2006), Padova, S.A.R.G.O.N., 2007. C. JOURDAIN-ANNEQUIN, Héraclès, héros archétypal dans la cité, p. 5-15; M. BAGGIO, Per l’iconografia di Achille: eroe e dio, p. 113-132; E. VOUTIRAS, La presenza di Enea sulla costa settentrionale dell’Egeo tra leggenda e propaganda, p. 141-153; B. CURRIE, Heroes and holy men in early Greece: Hesiod’s theios aner, p. 163-203.
7 DIGNAS Beate, TRAMPEDACH Kai (éds), Practitioners of the Divine. Greek Priests and Religious Officials from Homer to Heliodorus, Washington / Cambridge, Center for Hellenic Studies / Harvard University Press, 2008 (Hellenic Studies, 30). Albert HENRICHS, What is a Greek Priest?, p. 1-14; Angelos CHANIOTIS, Priests as Ritual Experts in the Greek World, p. 17-34; Jan BREMMER, Priestly Personnel of the Ephesian Artemision: Anatolian, Persian, Greek, and Roman Aspects, p. 37-53; Susan Guettel COLE, Professionals, Volunteers, and Amateurs: Serving the Gods kata ta patria, p. 55-72; Beate DIGNAS, Greek
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Priests of Sarapis?, p. 73-88; Ulrich GOTTER, Priests – Dynasts – Kings: Temples and Secular Rule in Asia Minor, p. 89-103; Ralf VONDENHOFF, Images and Prestige of Cult Personnel in Athens between the Sixth and First Centuries BC, p. 107-141; Matthias HAAKE, Philosopher and Priest: The Image of the Intellectual and the Social Practice of the Elites in the Eastern Roman Empire (First-Third Centuries AD), p. 145-165; Manuel BAUMBACH, An Egyptian Priest at Delphi: Calasiris as theios anēr in Heliodorus’ Aethiopica, p. 167-183; Michael A. FLOWER, The Iamidae: A Mantic Family and Its Public Image, p. 187-206; Kai TRAMPEDACH, Authority Disputed: The Seer in Homeric Epic, p. 207-230.
8 DUPRÉ RAVENTÓS X avier, RIBICHINI Sergio,VERGER Stéphane ( éds),Saturnia Tellus. Definizioni dello spazio consacrato in ambiente etrusco, italico, fenicio-punico, iberico e celtico, Roma, Consiglio nazionale delle ricerche, 2008 (Monografie scientifiche). Giovanna GRECO, Tra Greci e Indigeni: problematiche e definizioni del sacro, p. 99-118; Bianca FERRARA, Tra Greci e Indigeni: problematiche di definizione dello spazio consacrato nel santuario di Hera alla foce del Sele, p. 357-375.
9 ESTIENNE S., JAILLARD D., LUBTCHANSKY N., POUZADOUX Cl. (éds), Image et religion dans l’Antiquité gréco-romaine. Actes du colloque de Rome, 11-13 décembre 2003, organisé par l’École française d’Athènes, l’ArScAn (UMR 7041 : CNRS, Paris I, Paris X), l’équipe ESPRI et l’ACI jeunes chercheurs ICAR, Naples, Centre Jean Bérard/École française d’Athènes, 2008. (Collection du Centre Jean Bérard, 28). François LISSARRAGUE, Présence de l’invisible : deux images du Peintre de Cadmos, p. 19-24; Ludi CHAZALON, Des dieux au regard aphanès sur la céramique grecque, p. 25-39; Antoine HERMARY, Aniconisme et bisexualité : deux traditions de valeur différente sur l’Aphrodite de Chypre, p. 41-52; Françoise FRONTISI-DUCROUX, Les figures funéraires de Cyrène : stratégies de figuration de l’invisible, p. 53-67; Claude BÉRARD, Éleusis : contempler les mystères, p. 85-93; Vinciane PIRENNE-DELFORGE, Des marmites pour un méchant petit hermès ! ou comment consacrer une statue, p. 103-110; Matteo D’ACUNTO, Culto e rituali del tempio di Apollo a Dreros, p. 111-119; Philippe-Alexandre BRODER, La manipulation des images dans les processions en Grèce ancienne, p. 121-135; Maria TOMMASAGRANESE, Luigina TOMAY, Immagini e rituale nel santuario arcaico di Francavilla Marittima, p. 137-152; Claude CALAME, Identités lumineuses, espaces rituels, objets textuels : itinéraires initiatiques dans les lamelles funéraires d’or, p. 153-164; Sophie MONTEL, Des écrins architecturaux sacralisants ? Regards sur la présentation architecturale de quelques groupes statuaires du monde grec, p. 165-179; Nicole BELAYCHE, Du texte à l’image : les reliefs sur les stèles « de confession » d’Anatolie, p. 181-194; Mauro MENICHETTI, Lo specchio nello spazio femminile. Tra rito e mito, p. 217-230; Dimitrios PALEOTHODOROS, Espace public et espace domestique dans l’imagerie attique des rituels dionysiaques du Ve siècle av. J.-C., p. 231-240; Caroline HUGUENOT, Les « Érotes » volants et le rôle de l’image coroplastique funéraire dans la transmission du message religieux, p. 255-268; Marco DIBRANCO, Tra Amfione e Achille. Realtà e mitologia della difesa di Atene dal III al IV secolo d.C., p. 289-299; Pauline SCHMITT-PANTEL, La manipulation rituelle des images grecques étudiée sous l’angle du genre, p. 307-314; Ersilia LOPES, L’Eros di Lisippo a Tespie, p. 315-328; Laurianne MARTINEZ-SÈVE, La représentation des dieux dans la Suse hellénistique : de l’identité culturelle à la réalité cultuelle, p. 355-367.
10 FRANEK Christiane, LAMM Susanne, NEUHAUSER Tina, POROD Barbara, ZÖHRER Katja (éds), Thiasos. Festschrift für Erwin Pochmarski zum 65. Geburtstag, Wien, Phoibos, 2008 (Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Archäologie der Karl-Franzens-Universität Graz, 10).
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C. ENGLHOFER, Das Priestertum des Poseidon auf Kalaureia, p. 211-218; K. GSCHWANTLER, Die Grotte des Pan und der Nymphen auf dem Parnes, p. 349-363; U. MUSS, Potnia Theron im Artemision von Ephesos, p. 669-676 ; M. PRETZLER, Pausanias in Olympia, p. 781-792.
11 KALTSAS Nikolaos, SHAPIRO Alan (éds), Worshipping women. Ritual and Reality in Classical Athens, New York / Athens, A.S. Onassis Public Benefit Foundation / Hellenic Ministry of Culture. National Archaeological Museum, 2008. M.R. LEFKOWITZ, Ancient Greek women and the gods, p. 23-27; O. PALAGIA, Women in the cult of Athena, p. 30-77; E. VIKELA, The worship of Artemis in Attica: Cult places, rites, iconography, p. 78-105; A. DELIVORRIAS, The worship of Aphrodite in Athens and Attica, p. 106-123; M. TIVERIOS, Women of Athens in the worship of Demeter: Iconographic evidence from archaic and classical times, p. 124-161; A. SHAPIRO, Cults of heroines in ancient Athens, p. 162-183; J. BRETON CONNELLY, In divine affairs – the greatest part: Women and priesthood in classical Athens, p. 184-241; J. NEILS, Adonia to Thesmophoria: Women and Athenian Festivals, p. 242-265; S. CHRYSSOULAKI, The participation of women in the worship and festivals of Dionysos, p. 266-285; V. SABETAI, Women’s ritual roles in the cycle of life, p. 288-333; J.H. OAKLEY, Women in Athenian ritual and funerary art, p. 334-349.
12 MEHL Véronique, BRULÉ Pierre (dir.), Le sacrifice antique. Vestiges, procédures et stratégies, Rennes, Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2008 (Collection « Histoire »). Ioanna PATERA, Vestiges sacrificiels et vestiges d’offrandes dans les purai d’Éleusis, p. 13-25; Hélène SIARD, L’analyse d’un rituel sacrificiel dans le Sarapieion C de Délos, p. 27-38; Laurent HUGOT, À propos des gras Tyrrhéniens qui devant l’autel soufflaient dans l’ivoire. Les représentations de musiciens autour des autels en Étrurie, p. 61-80; Pierre BRULÉ – Rachel TOUZÉ, Le hiereion : phusis et psuchè d’un medium , p. 111-138; Stella GEORGOUDI, Le consentement de la victime sacrificielle : une question ouverte, p. 139-153; Christophe LAFON, Un organisme interne semblable au chaudron du sacrifice, p. 155-164; Véronique MEHL, Parfums de fêtes. Usage de parfums et sacrifices sanglants, p. 167-186; Athanassia ZOGRAFOU, Prescriptions sacrificielles dans les papyri magiques, p. 187-203; Emma STAFFORD, Cocks to Asklepios: sacrificial practice and healing cult, p. 205-221; Anne JACQUEMIN, La participation in absentia au sacrifice , p. 225-234; M.P.J. DILLON, ‘Xenophon sacrificed on account of an expedition:’ divination and the sphagia before ancient Greek battles, p. 235-251.
13 MOUSSY Claude, ORLANDIN Anna Maria (éds), L’ambiguïté en Grèce et à Rome. Approche linguistique, Paris, Presses de l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne, 2007. M.A. CODECÀ, A.M. ORLANDINI, L’ambiguitas des réponses oraculaires , p. 103-112; A.M. ANDRISANO, Les Érinyes ἄπτεροι, une épithète ambiguë chez Eschyle Eum. 51, p. 113-120.
14 MUSS Ulrike (éd.), Die Archäologie der ephesischen Artemis. Gestalt und Ritual eines Heiligtum, Wien, Phoibos Verlag, 2009. A. BAMMER, Zur Geographie des Artemis-heiligtums, p. 17-19; H. BRÜCKNER, J.C. KRAFT, I. KAYAN, Vom Meer umspült, von Fluss begraben – zur Paläogeographie des Artemisions, p. 21-31; G. FORSTENPOINTNER, M. KERSCHNER, U. MUSS, Das Artemision in der späten Bronzezeit und der frühen Eisenzeit, p. 33-46; U. MUSS, Zur Geschichte des Artemisions, p. 47-54; S. MORRIS, Zur Vorgeschichte der Artemis Ephesia, p. 57-62; U. MUSS, Kultbild und Statuetten – Göttinnen im Artemision, p. 63-66; A. PÜLZ, Von der Göttin zur Gottesmutter? Artemis und Maria, p. 67-75; A. BAMMER, U. MUSS, Geschenke für die Göttin, p. 79-84; B. PULSINGER, Perlen aus dem Artemision – Mittler zwischen Mensch und Gottheit, p. 85-93; U. MUSS, God des Meeres: Bernstein aus dem Artemision von Ephesos, p. 95-102; U. MUSS, Elfenbein und Bein aus dem
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Artemision von Ephesos, p. 103-116; M. DEWAILLY, U. MUSS, Tonfiguren aus dem Artemision von Ephesos, p. 117-124; M. KERSCHNER, Keramik aus dem Heiligtum der Artemis, p. 125-132; S. KARWIESE, Das Artemision von Ephesos und die ‚Er-Findung’ der Münze, p. 133-148; G. KLEBINDER-GAUSS, Weihegaben aus Bronze, p. 149-155; G. FORSTENPOINTNER, G.E. WEISSENGRUBER, Tierknochenfunde aus dem Artemision, p. 157-165; B. BÜHLER, A.M. PÜLZ, Die Goldfunde aus dem Artemision von Ephesos und ihre Herstellung, p. 167-172; eid., Typologie und Technologie der Raubvogeldarstellungen aus Gold, p. 173-184; K. GSCHWANTLER, V. FREIBERGER,Goldschmiedetechnische Beobachtungen zu den Löwenkopffibeln aus dem Artemision in Ephesos, p. 185-197; G. LEBINDER-GAUSS, A.M. PÜLZ, ‚Fremdes’ in der materiellen Kultur im Artemision von Ephesos, p. 201-207; G. HÖLBL, Ägyptisches Kulturgut im archaischen Artemision, p. 209-221; M. KERSCHNER, Die Lyder und das Artemision von Ephesos, p. 223-233; G. LEBINDER-GAUSS, Ephesos und seine Beziehungen zur phrygischen Bronzekunst, p. 235-240; A. BAMMER, Der Peripteros und sein Vorgänger, p. 243-249; id., Der sogenannte Hekatompedon und Temple C, p. 251-254; U. SCHÄDLER, P. SCHNEIDER, Ein Tondach des 7. Jahrhunderts, p. 255-262; A. OHNESORG, Neue Forschungen zum archaischen Dipteros, p. 263-273; A. BAMMER, Neues zum spätklassischen Weltwunderbau, p. 275-276; id., Der archaische und der klassische Hofaltar, p. 277-284; id., Die Kirche im Artemision, p. 285-288.
15 PIETILÄ-CASTRÉN L., VAHTIKARI V. (éds), Grapta Poikila II. Saints and Heroes, Helsinki, Suomen Ateenan-Instituutin säätiö, 2008 (Papers and Monographs of the Finnish Institute at Athens, 14). Mari MIKKOLA, Heroa as Described in the Ancient Written Sources, p. 1-32; Leena PIETILÄ- CASTRÉN, A Methodological Note on “Rectangular heroa”, p. 33-54.
16 REVERMANN Martin, WILSON Peter (éds), Performance, Iconography, Reception. Studies in Honour of Oliver Taplin, Oxford, UP, 2008. M. GRIFFITH, Greek middlebrow drama (something to do with Aphrodite?), p. 59-87;P. WILSON, Costing the Dionysia, p. 88-127; W. ALLAN, Performing the will of Zeus: The Διὸς βουλή and the scope of early Greek epic, p. 204-216 ; P. EASTERLING, Thoughts on Eumenides, p. 219-236; M. REVERMANN, Aeschylus’ Eumenides, chronotopes, and the ‘aetiological mode’, p. 237-261; E. CSAPO, Star choruses: Eleusis, Orphism, and new musical imagery and dance, p. 262-290; A. KAVOULAKI, The last word: Ritual, power, and performance in Euripides’ Hiketides, p. 291-317.
17 SCHEER Tanja (éd.), Tempelprostitution im Altertum. Fakten und Fiktionen, Berlin, Verlag Antike, 2009 (Oikumene. Studien zur antiken Weltgeschichte, 6). T.S. SCHEER, Einführung, p. 9-22; J.F. QUACK, Herodot, Strabo und die Pallakide von Theben, p. 154-182; R. SCHOLL, Tempelprostitution im griechisch-römischen Ägypten? Hierodouloi als Tempelsklaven und Tempelprostituierte?, p. 183-197; St. BUDIN, Strabo’s Hierodoules: Corinth, Comana, and Eryx, p. 198-220; T.S. SCHEER, Tempelprostitution in Korinth?, p. 221-266; J. LOSEHAND, Votum (publicum) intermissum: Bemerkungen zur ‘sakralen Prostitution’ in Lokroi Epizephyrioi, p. 267-292; M. LINDNER, Narration and Transformation. Die Tempelprostitution vom Berg Eryx, p. 293-327; A. HUPFLOHER, Aphrodite Erykine in Arkadien, p. 328-343; D. OGDEN, Courtesans and the sacred in the early Hellenistic courts, p. 344-376.
18 VOX O., Materiali di nomenclatura divina greca, Lecce, Pensa Multimedia, 2008 (Quaderni Satura). Mario ANDREASSI, Il ritratto di Eros in Meleagro AP 5.177, p. 9-37; Claudio ROSATO, Liste di epiteti divini nei testi letterari greci e latini. Una raccolta, p. 39-88; Andrea TOMA, Epiteti di
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collettività divine nelle tragedie di Eschilo, p. 89-104; Onofrio VOX, Nomenclatura divina in Giulio Polluce, p. 105-130.
Contributions particulières
19 ATHANASSIADES A., « A divine palimpsest: Cults from Classical to Hellenistic Cyprus », in P. FLOURENTZOS (éd.), From Evagoras I to the Ptolemies. The Transition from the Classical to the Hellenistic Period in Cyprus (Nicosia 29-30 November 2002), Nicosia, 2007, p. 161-172.
20 BASTIANELLI L., « Telesilla e la saga dei Niobidi: testimonianze poetiche e tradizioni locali », in P. ANGELI BERNARDINI (éd.), L’epos minore, le tradizioni locali e la poesia arcaica. Atti dell’incontro di studio, Urbino, 7 giugno 2005, Pisa, 2007, p. 25-35.
21 BOULET B., « Why does Plutarch’s Apollo have many faces? », in A.G. NIKOLAIDIS (éd.), The Unity of Plutarch’s Work. ‘Moralia’ Themes in the ‘Lives’, Features of the ‘Lives’ in the ‘Moralia’, Berlin, 2008 (Millenium-Studies, 19), p. 159-169.
22 CAVAGNA Alessandro, “Homonoia ed Euthenia su una moneta alessandrina di Antonino Pio”, in G. DAVERIO ROCCHI (éd.), Tra concordia e pace. Parole e valori della Grecia antica. Giornata di studio, Milano, 21 ottobre 2005, Milano, Cisalpino, 2007 (Università degli Studi di Milano. Facoltà di lettere e filosofia. Quaderni di Acme, 92), p. 303-317.
23 DEBORD Pierre, « Religion et société : les fêtes d’Hécate et de Zeus à Stratonicée de Carie », in J. DALAISON (éd.), Espaces et pouvoirs dans l’Antiquité, de l’Anatolie à la Gaule. Hommages à Bernard Rémy, Grenoble, 2007 (Cahiers du CRHIPA, 11), p. 203-237.
24 EDWARDS M.J., « The Gods in the Attic Orators », in L. CALBOLI MONTEFUSCO (éd.), Papers on Rhetoric IX, Roma, 2008 (Università degli Studi di Bologna), p. 107-115.
25 EIDINOW Esther, « Why the Athenian Began to Curse », in R. OSBORNE (éd.), Debating the Athenian Cultural Revolution. Art, Literature, Philosophy, and Politics, 430-380 BC, Cambridge, 2007, p. 44-71.
26 EKROTH Gunnel, « Meat, man and god. On the division of the animal victim at Greek sacrifices », in Μικρός Ιερομνήμων. Μελέτες εις μνήμην Michael H. Jameson, Athènes, 2008, p. 259-290.
27 GRAF Fritz, « Feste und Fehden. Städtische Feste und der Konflikt der Religionen im spätantiken römischen Reich », in M. WALLRAFF, R. BRÄNDLE (éds), Chrysostomosbilder in 1600 Jahren. Facetten der Wirkungsgeschichte eines Kirchenvaters, Berlin, 2008, p. 3-22.
28 HINGE G., « The authority of truth and the origin of ὅσιος and ἔτυμος (= Skt. satyá- and tûtumá-) with an excursus on the preconsonantal laryngeal loss », in Greek and Latin from an Indo-European Perspective, Cambridge, 2007 (Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society, 32), p. 145-161.
29 LICHTENBERGER A., « Artemis and Zeus Olympios in Roman Gerasa and Seleucid Religious Policy », in T. KAIZER (éd.), The Variety of Local Religious Life in the Near East in the Hellenistic and Roman Periods, Leiden, 2008 (RGRW, 164), p. 133-153.
30 LÓPEZ FÉREZ Juan Antonio, « Zeus en Plutarco. El dios y sus mitos », in J.M aNIETO IBÁÑEZ, R. LÓPEZ LÓPEZ (éds), El Amor en Plutarco. IX Simposio Internacional de la Sociedad Espanola de Plutarquistas, León, Universidad de León, 2007, p. 801-822.
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31 LOUDEN B., « The Gods in Epic, or the Divine Economy », in J. MILES FOLEY (éd.), A Companion to Ancient Epic, Oxford, 2009 (Blackwell Companions to the Ancient World), p. 90-104.
32 MITCHELL Stephen, « Iranian names and the presence of Persians in the religious sanctuaries of Asia Minor », in E. MATTHEWS (éd.), Old and New Worlds in Greek Onomastics, Oxford, 2007, p. 151-171.
33 PARKER Robert, « Religion and the Athenian Empire », in P. LOW (éd.), The Athenian Empire, Edinburgh, 2008 (Edinburgh Readings on the Ancient World), p. 146-155 [or. 1996].
34 RAAFLAUB K., « Zeus und Prometheus: Zur griechischen Interpretation vorderasiatischer Mythen », in M. BERNETT, W. NIPPEL, A. WINTERLING (éds), Christian Meier zur Diskussion. Autorenkolloquium am Zentrum für Interdisziplinäre Forschung der Universität Bielefeld, Stuttgart, 2008, p. 33-60.
35 RAIMOND E.A., « Hellenization and Lycian cults during the Achaemenid period », in Chr. TUPLIN (éd.), Persian Responses. Political and Cultural Interaction with(in) the Achaemenid Empire, Swansea, 2007, p. 143-162.
36 RENAUD Jean-Michel, « L’influence de l’Anatolie sur la désignation des constellations d’Orion, du Scorpion et de la Grande Ourse », in M. MAZOYER (éd.), Homère et l’Anatolie, Paris, 2008 (Kubaba. Série Antiquité), p. 221-232.
37 SINEUX Pierre, « Pour une relecture des récits de guérison de l’Asklépieion de l’île Tibérine », in P. FLEURY, O. DESBORDES (éds), Roma Illustrata. Représentations de la ville, Caen, 2008, p. 393-408.
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Revues des revues
Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge
1 AKKAN Yılmaz, MALAY Hasan, « The Village Tar(i)gye and the Cult of Zeus Tar(i)gyenos in the Cayster Valley », EA 40 (2007), p. 16-22.
2 AMITAY Ory, « Why did Alexander the Great besiege Tyre? », Athenaeum 96 (2008), p. 91-102 [réflexion sur les motivations politico-religieuses du siège : Alexandre, descendant d’Héraclès, prétendait sacrifier à Héraclès-Melqart lors du rituel de la « résurrection » du dieu, ce qui avait de fortes implications religieuses, mais aussi politiques auxquelles les Tyriens ne pouvaient souscrire].
3 ANAGNOSTOU-LAOUTIDES Eva, KONSTAN David, « Daphnis and Aphrodite: A Love Affair in Theocritus Idyll 1 », AJPh 129 (2008), p. 497-527 [l’objet de la passion de Daphnis serait Aphrodite elle-même].
4 AUPERT Pierre, « Nouveaux documents sur le culte d’Aphrodite à Amathonte. I. Aphrodite, l’empereur Titus et le hiéron dans les stèles : un nouveau sanctuaire amathousien d’Aphrodite », BCH 130 (2006), p. 83-99.
5 AVRONIDAKI Christina, « Boeotian Red-Figure Imagery on Two New Vases by the Painter of the Dancing Pan », AK 51 (2008), p. 8-22 [l’un des vases représente le sacrifice imminent d’un chien à une divinité de l’enfantement, l’autre une scène de musique au gynécée].
6 BACHVAROVA Mary R., « Suppliant Danaids and Argive Nymphs in Aeschylus », CF 104 (2009), p. 289-310 [la menace de pollution en raison de leur suicide annoncé, et donc le caractère déviant de leur supplication, ferait allusion au rôle des Danaïdes comme nymphes argiennes, liées à l’humidité et à la fertilité du territoire].
7 BERNABÉ Alberto, « Some Thoughts about the ‘New’ Gold Tablet from Pherai », ZPE 166 (2008), p. 53-58 [plaidoyer en faveur de l’ancrage orphique de ce document qui évoque Déméter Chthonia et la Mètèr Oreia].
8 BONAZZI Mauro, « L’offerta di Plutarco. Teologia e filosofia nel De E apud Delphos (capitoli 1-2) », Philologus 152 (2008), p. 205-211 [le dialogue est moins un essai de résoudre l’énigme delphique qu’un hommage à la supériorité divine].
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9 BORGERS Olaf, « Religious Citizenship in Classical Athens. Men and Women in Religious Representations on Vase-painting », BABesch 83 (2008), p. 73-97 [la participation aux rituels est un élément constitutif de la citoyenneté et l’étude de la présence respective des hommes et des femmes dans les représentations à portée religieuse contredit certaines idées reçues].
10 BRUIT Louise, « Le religieux et le politique en Grèce ancienne (II). Déméter et Koré dans le panthéon athénien », LEC 75 (2007), p. 37-52.
11 BUDIN Stephanie Lynn, « Simonides’ Corinthian Epigram », CPh 103 (2008), p. 335-353 [reprise du dossier de la supplication à Aphrodite par les femmes corinthiennes à la veille de la bataille de Salamine, déjà présent dans l’ouvrage de l’A. The Myth of Sacred Prostitution, Cambridge, 2008].
12 BURKERT Walter, « Pleading for Hell: Postulates, Fantasies, and the Senselessness of Punishment », Numen 56 (2009), p. 141-160 [l’enquête porte sur les différentes manières dont les sociétés antiques ont développé un savoir sur l’enfer, dont la Grèce].
13 CASSIMATIS Hélène, « Éros en Italie méridionale. Approche iconographique à travers les représentations italiotes », Pallas 76 (2008), p. 51-65 [on y observe que le dieu se transforme au contact des exigences culturelles des acheteurs, qui sont différentes elles aussi selon les régions].
14 CHERUBINI Laura, « The Virgin, the Bear, the Upside-Down Strix: An Interpretation of Antoninus Liberalis 21 », Arethusa 42 (2009), p. 77-97.
15 CHESHIRE Keyne, « Kicking φθόνος: Apollo and his Chorus in Callimachus’ Hymn 2 », CPh 103 (2008), p. 354-373 [c’est la performance chorale des jeunes gens qui est le point central de la narration et l’ancrage rituel de la performance est essentiel pour la compréhension de l’hymne].
16 CHIAI Gian Franco, « Il villaggio e il suo dio: considerazioni sulla concorrenza religiosa nelle comunità rurali dell’Asia Minore in epoca romana », Mythos 1 (2006-2007), p. 137-163 [les divinités honorées dans les sanctuaires ruraux de Lydie et de Phrygie sont représentées comme des monarques tout-puissants, dont le pouvoir est intimement lié au territoire, ce qui engendre une concurrence entre les cultes].
17 COLLINS Derek, « The Magic of Homeric Verses », CPh 103 (2008), p. 211-236 [étude des principes sur lesquels se fondait l’usage des vers homériques à des fins magiques et donc de la portée de leur apparition dans d’autres contextes qui ne sont pas directement associés à la magie].
18 COLLINS Derek, « Mapping the Entrails: The Practice of Greek Hepatoscopy », AJPh 129 (2008), p. 319-345.
19 COLOMBERT Ph., « La ‘stèle de Saïs’ et l’instauration du culte d’Arsinoé II dans la chôra », Ancient Society 38 (2008), p. 83-101 [le culte de la reine a d’abord été instauré à Alexandrie et puis seulement dans la chôra, ce qui conduit à relativiser la volonté de mêler population grecque et population égyptienne qui aurait animé Ptolémée Philadelphe dans l’instauration de ce culte].
20 DASEN Véronique, « Le secret d’Omphale », RA (2008), p. 265-281 [analyse de gemmes magiques où la figure d’Omphale, enceinte et pourvue des armes d’Héraclès, sert à protéger la sexualité féminine et la grossesse des forces mauvaises symbolisées par un âne].
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21 D’ALFONSO Francesca, « La Terra Desolata. Osservazioni sul destino di Bellerofonte (Il. 6, 200-202) », MH 65 (2008), p. 1-21.
22 DELATTRE Charles, « Entre mortalité et immortalité : l’exemple de Sarpédon dans l’Iliade », RPh 80 (2006), p. 259-271 [la mort de Sarpédon est l’occasion pour l’aède de mettre en scène tous les termes de l’alternative, sans chercher à les résoudre].
23 DELATTRE Charles, « Ἡμίθεος en question : l’homme, le héros et le demi-dieu », REG 120 (2007), p. 481-510 [impossibilité de caractériser de façon générale et unique du demi- dieu dès que l’on passe d’un usage collectif, qui s’applique à un groupe d’être du temps passé, à des destinées individuelles qui font éclater l’antinomie mortalité / immortalité; annexe sur la formation du mot].
24 DESPINIS Giorgos I., « Neues zu der spätarchaischen Statue des Dionysos aus Ikaria », MDAI(A) 122 (2007), 103-137 [reconstitution de la statue assise sous un baldaquin et interprétation de l’ensemble comme statue de culte].
25 DREYER Boris, « Le culte civique d’Arès et le panthéon de Métropolis (Ionie) », REA 110 (2008), p. 403-416 [la cité d’Ionie, pour préserver son identité spécifique, avait choisi comme dieu tutélaire Arès, d’origine indigène; de nombreuses inscriptions du Ier s. ap. J.-C. permettent de reconstituer l’organisation du culte et les conditions sociales et politiques de la ville].
26 ERICKSON Brice, « Roussa Ekklesia, Part 1: Religion and Politics in East Crete », AJA 113 (2009), p. 353-404 [analyse des ex-voto (c. 630-450) qui évoquent des rites de passage masculins liés à une déesse de source associée à la croissance des végétaux et des humains, représentée nue et portant un polos (au VIIe s.); étude des implications politiques et sociales du culte].
27 FARAONE Christopher A., « Mystery Cults and Incantations. Evidence for Orphic Charms in Euripides’ Cyclops 646-48? », RhM 151 (2008), p. 127-142 [si ce passage est bien fondé sur une tradition orphique, il fournit un intéressant témoignage de la forme linguistique des incantations orphiques, de même que de leur contenu narratif, à savoir le triomphe sur les forces du chaos].
28 FARAONE Christopher A., « Stopping Evil, Pain, Anger, and Blood: The Ancient Greek Tradition of Protective Iambic Incantations », GRBS 49 (2009), p. 227-255 [d’autres mètres que l’hexamètre ont pu être utilisés à des fins de protection; étude de cette tradition et des occasions ou des lieux de son utilisation].
29 FEDERICO Eduardo, « Hektor sull’Isola dei Beati. Memorie e realia tebani da Licofrone a Pausania », IncidAntico 6 (2008), p. 253-271 [histoire et évolution du culte d’Hector à Thèbes et des traditions qui s’y rapportent depuis la fin du VIe siècle av. J.-C. jusqu’à l’époque romaine].
30 FERRARI F., « Per leggere le lamine misteriche (I & II), Prometheus 34 (2008), p. 1-26, 97-112.
31 FINKELBERG Margalit, « Plato, Apology 28d6-29a1 and the Ephebic Oath », SCI 37 (2008), p. 9-15 [si l’allusion au serment est bien présente dans ce passage de Platon, cela signifie qu’il remonte bien plus haut que l’année 334/3 habituellement invoquée].
32 FONTANNAZ Didier, « L’entre-deux-monde. Orphée et Eurydice sur une hydrie proto- italiote du sanctuaire de la source à Saturo », AK 51 (2008), p. 41-72 [sur l’hydrie, l’espace du passage aux Enfers se confond avec celui de transition au stade de numphê et l’accent est mis sur le personnage d’Eurydice; le document fait apparaître des
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correspondance entre sphères matrimoniale et chthonienne, qui s’affirment comme des caractéristiques spécifiques de la Grande Grèce].
33 GAIFMAN Milette, « Visualized rituals and dedicatory inscriptions on votive offerings to the Nymphs », Opuscula. Annual of the Swedish Institutes at Athens and Rome 1 (2008), p. 85-103 [les dédicaces accompagnées de reliefs figurant des rituels doivent être envisagées comme une expression de la piété des individus plutôt que comme le reflet de pratiques cultuelles véritables].
34 GARVEY Tom, « Plato’s Atlantis Story: A Prose Hymn to Athena », GRBS 48 (2008), p. 381-392 [l’article met en évidence de la dimension religieuse du Timée et du Critias et considère que ces éléments créent un hymne à Athéna et contribuent à remodeler la mythologie athénienne afin de recentrer Athènes sur le mode de vie qui l’a conduite à la domination du monde].
35 GIANNOBILE Sergio, JORDAN D.R., « On the Text of the Hipponium Tablet », GRBS 48 (2008), p. 287-294 [reconstitution de l’archétype ionien du vers 1 de la tablette en dialecte dorien].
36 GIVEN John, « When Gods don’t appear: divine absence and human agency in Aristophanes », CW 102 (2009), p. 107-127.
37 GONZALES Matthew, « New Observations on the Lindian Cult-Tax for Enyalios », ZPE 166 (2008), p. 121-134 [réédition de cette remarquable inscription et commentaire sur l’opposition ἰδίαι / δαμοσίαι dans le document, sur le rituel d’Enyalios à Lindos et ses relations avec le culte du dieu ailleurs dans le monde grec].
38 HALUSZKA Adria, « Sacred Signified: The Semiotics of Statues in the Greek Magical Papyri », Arethusa 41 (2008), p. 479-494.
39 HENRICHS Albert, « Reinhold Merkelbach über antike Religion, Literatur und Mysterien », ZPE 163 (2007), p. 17-24.
40 HERMARY Antoine, « Nouveaux documents sur le culte d’Aphrodite à Amathonte. II. La tête en marbre : Aphrodite Kupria ? », BCH 130 (2006), p. 101-115.
41 HIDALGO DE LA VEGA Maria José, « Voix soumises, pratiques transgressives. Les magiciennes dans le roman gréco-romain », DHA 34 (2008), p. 27-43 [analyse de l’importance de la magie pratiquée par et pour des femmes dans les relations de genre et comme manière de produire des valeurs culturelles alternatives en marge de la culture dominante et de l’ordre social établi].
42 HIRSCHBERGER Martina, « Die Parteiungen der Götter in der Ilias. Antike Auslesung und Hintergründe in Kult und epischer Tradition », WS 121 (2008), p. 5-28 [c’est l’ancrage cultuel des divinités qui permettrait de comprendre pourquoi telle divinité soutiendrait tel groupe engagé dans le conflit].
43 HIRSCHMANN Vera, « Zwischen Menschen und Göttern. Die kleinasiatischen Engel », EA 40 (2007), p. 135-146.
44 HÖGEMANN Peter, OETTINGER Norbert, « Die Seuche im Heerlager der Achäer vor Troia. Orakel und magische Rituale im hethiterzeitlichen Kleinasien und im archaischen Griechenland », Klio 90 (2008), p. 7-26 [le poète de l’Iliade a vécu en Asie Mineure vers 700 et a pu faire l’expérience de pratiques remontant aux Hittites, comme la consultation oraculaire et des rituels magiques inconnus en Grèce; Crésus, redevable de la tradition anatolienne, a donc échoué à Delphes].
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45 HONIGMAN Sylvie, « Euhemerus of Messene and Plato’s Atlantis », Historia 58 (2009), p. 1-35 [analyse de la nature de la Hiera anagraphê d’Évhémère qui emprunte la forme historiographique et imite pour partie le discours de Platon sur l’Atlantide].
46 JACQUET-RIMASSA Pascale, « L’image en jeu ou l’offrande Dionysiaque (le kottabe dix ans après…) », Pallas 76 (2008), p. 67-80 [le kottabe n’est pas seulement représenté dans un contexte symposiaque mais devient la marque d’une offrande à Dionysos, la divinité qui l’a inventé].
47 JOHNSTON Sarah Iles, « Animating Statues: A Case Study in Ritual », Arethusa 41 (2008), p. 445-477.
48 JONES Christopher P., « A Hellenistic Cult-Association », Chiron 38 (2008), p. 195-204 [association d’héroïstes qui honorent leur prêtresse décédée; réflexion sur le terme ἀποθέωσις et ses implications pour l’évaluation du statut de la défunte]. 49 KANTIRÉA Maria, « Le culte impérial à Chypre : relecture des documents épigraphiques », ZPE 167 (2008), p. 91-112. 50 KELLY Adrian, « The Babylonian Captivity of Homer: The Case of the Διὸς Ἀπάτη », RhM 151 (2008), p. 258-304 [l’article prend le contre-pied systématique des analyses qui voient dans l’épisode la trace de multiples influences orientales et donne bon nombre d’arguments afin d’ancrer les différents motifs dans la tradition grecque elle-même].
51 KRUMEICH Ralf, « Vom Haus der Gottheit zum Museum? Zu Ausstattung und Funktion des Heraion von Olympia und des Athenatempels von Lindos », AK 51 (2008), p. 73-95 [les deux temples laissent entrevoir des traits muséaux, mais de nature différente, et sans que cela ne leur ôte leur dimension cultuelle, comme on l’a parfois prétendu pour l’Héraion].
52 LAMBACH Rüdiger, « Was hat Asklepios für Sokrates getan? », Hermes 136 (2008), p. 275-292.
53 LAMBERT Stephen D., « Aglauros, the Euenoridai and the Autochthon of Atlantis », ZPE 167 (2008), p. 22-26 [commentaire d’une nouvelle inscription mutilée mise au jour dans le sanctuaire athénien d’Aglauros et qui autorise quelques hypothèses sur les conflits rituels entre les genè en charge des cultes acropolitains, et notamment les rites vestimentaires pour Athéna, et met également au jour un nouveau genos, les Euénorides].
54 MA John, « Dating the New Decree of the Confederation of Athena Ilias », EA 40 (2007), p. 55-57.
55 MACKIL Emily, « A Boiotian Proxeny Decree and Relief in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston and Boiotian-Lakonian Relations in the 360s », Chiron 38 (2008), p. 157-194 [la stèle est sculptée de représentations d’Héraclès enfant terrassant les serpents (référence à Thèbes), des Dioscures (référence à Sparte), d’Athéna Aléa (référence à Tégée), autant d’éléments qui influencent la manière de lire le texte].
56 MAGNANI Massimo, « Le Baccanti di Teocrito e Cos », ZPE 164 (2008), p. 33-44 [hypothèse d’une localisation de l’exécution du poème à Cos, notamment fondée sur des arguments religieux].
57 MARCHETTI Patrick, « Les dieux et héros du dromos dorien I. Réflexions sur les références légendaires de l’espace civique de Sparte et d’Argos chez Pausanias », ARG 10 (2008), p. 85-113.
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58 MARI Manuela, « Festa mobile. Nemea e i suoi giochi nella tradizione letteraria e nell’evidenza materiale. I: l’età arcaica e classica », IncidAntico 6 (2008), p. 91-132 [reconstruction de l’histoire du sanctuaire de Némée en Argolide, entre le premier quart du VIe siècle av. J.-C., au moment de la fondation des jeux néméens, et la fin du IVe siècle av. J.-C.; l’analyse des témoignages amène des réflexions plus générales sur les témoignages disponibles concernant les principaux sanctuaires de la Grèce antique].
59 MARINATOS Nanno, « The So-called Hell and Sinners in the Odyssey and Homeric Cosmology », Numen 56 (2009), p. 185-197 [Ulysse ne descend pas dans l’Hadès, même s’il assiste à la punition des grands coupables; la cosmologie à l’œuvre dans la représentation de l’au-delà serait d’origine égyptienne et le cosmos divisé en mondes diurne et nocturne].
60 MASSA Francesco, « Dioniso e Apollo dal teatro attico alla cultura imperiale: i tratti salienti di un complesso quadro documentario », Mythos 1 (2006-2007), p. 77-92 [examen de sources littéraires qui traitent de la relation entre Apollon et Dionysos; celle-ci s’avère fondée sur la rencontre, le partage et parfois le renversement des rôles].
61 MEULDER Marcel, « Dédale serviteur des trois fonctions », Mythos 1 (2006-2007), p. 49-75 [sur l’origine indo-européenne du mythe de Dédale].
62 MICHEL C., « Hermes in der Odyssee », WüJbb 32 (2008), p. 11-34.
63 MILETTI Lorenzo, « Herodotus in Theon’s Progymnasmata. The Confutation of Mythical Accounts », MH 65 (2008), p. 65-76 [analyse de la manière très personnelle dont Théon aborde la critique des mythes et leur rationalisation au départ de sa réflexion rhétorique sur l’œuvre d’Hérodote].
64 MIRÓN Dolores, « The Heraia at Olympia: Gender and Place », AJAH 3-4 (2004-2005) [2007], p. 7-38 [les compétitions d’Olympie permettaient de reproduire l’ordre social dans toutes ses implications : l’ordre des « genres » était renforcé par la réaffirmation du rôle de chaque sexe et quatre thèmes majeurs étaient célébrés, la guerre et la paix, la virginité irrationnelle et le mariage].
65 MORENO Alfonso, « Hieron. The Ancient Sanctuary at the Mouth of the Black Sea », Hesperia 77 (2008), p. 655-709 [mise au point très complète sur le site qui mériterait des fouilles en bonne et due forme; dossier des sources littéraires et épigraphiques en annexe].
66 MOYER Ian S., « Notes on Re-Reading the Delian Aretalogy of Sarapis (IG XI.4 1299) », ZPE 166 (2008), p. 101-107.
67 MYLONOPOULOS Joannis, « Natur als Heiligtum – Natur im Heiligtum », ARG 10 (2008), p. 51-83.
68 NADAL Eléonore, « Poséidon sur le passage d’Héraklès sur quelques vases attiques à figures noires », Pallas 76 (2008), p. 31-50 [le rôle de Poséidon dans ces représentations est comparable à celui qu’il joue dans d’autres épisodes mythologiques où il permet un passage, un changement de statut].
69 NOWICKI Krzysztof, « Some Remarks on the New Peak Sanctuaries in Crete: The Topography of Ritual Areas and their Relationship with Settlements », JDAI 122 (2007), p. 1-31.
70 OLLER GUZMÁN Marta, « Quelques remarques à propos de deux nouvelles dédicaces à Thétis et Achille trouvées à Apollonia d’Illyrie », ZPE 167 (2008), p. 75-80 [le participe συναμφιπολεύσας montre qu’on acceptait la participation au culte de plusieurs
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personnes, dont une au moins était une femme; en outre, le culte des Néréides pourrait trouver son origine à Corinthe et avoir suivi la voie de la colonisation archaïque].
71 PALAGIA Olga, « The Parthenon Frieze: Boy or Girl? », AK 51 (2007), p. 3-7 [arguments en faveur de l’identification du personnage associé à la remise du péplos d’Athéna comme étant une fille, alors que le garçon avait eu la faveur de bon nombre d’interprétations récentes].
72 PEPONI Anastasia-Erasmia, « Choreia and Aesthetics in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo: The Performance of the Delian Maidens (Lines 156–64) », Classical Antiquity 28 (2009), p. 39-70.
73 PIERRE Hélène, « Le voyage de Triptolème en Étrurie et en Grande Grèce », Pallas 77 (2008), p. 111-132 [l’étude de l’iconographie de Triptolème en Étrurie et en Grande Grèce démontre qu’il a conservé son aspect de héros civilisateur athénien hors des frontières de l’Attique et qu’il s’est de plus parfaitement inséré dans ces régions. Inventaire des documents].
74 PIERRE Hélène, « Réflexions autour de la Nesteia des Thesmophories athéniennes », Pallas 76 (2008), p. 85-94 [l’abstinence alimentaire et sexuelle ainsi que l’aischrologia des Thesmophories semblent avoir été un rituel d’inversion appelant un renouveau, un retour au civilisé].
75 PIRENNE-DELFORGE Vinciane, « Le lexique des lieux de culte dans la Périégèse de Pausanias », ARG 10 (2008), p. 143-178.
76 PRÊTRE Clarisse, « Une mécène au service d’une déesse thasienne : décret pour Stilbôn (THANAR 1) », BCH 130 (2006), p. 487-497.
77 REITZAMMER L., « Aristophanes’ Adôniazousai », Classical Antiquity 27 (2008), p. 282-333 [un scholiaste prétend que la Lysistrata aurait pu s’appeler Adôniazousai, les femmes utilisant l’acropole comme « toit » pour « célébrer » la fête, ce qui conduit à nuancer la lecture de la pièce et à revoir la place des Adonies à Athènes, de même que la distinction « fêtes privées/fêtes publiques »].
78 RENAUD Jean-Michel, « Les mythes chez Homère et chez Pindare : la famille vue sous des éclairages différents », Ateliers (Lille 3) 37 (2007), p. 25-34 (volume sur les Représentations mythologiques du sentiment familial : autour de la haine et de l’amour).
79 RHODES P.J., « State and religion in Athenian inscriptions », G & R 56 (2009), p. 1-13 [fondée sur l’épigraphie athénienne, cette mise au point souligne que la religion était une préoccupation des citoyens, qui la portaient donc dans les organes de la cité qui était la leur; ces organes n’étaient ni spécialement religieux, ni clairement séculiers; ils s’occupaient de religion de la même manière qu’ils traitaient les autres préoccupations des citoyens].
80 ROSÓŁ Rafał, « Die Herkunft des Gottesnamens Apollon », Glotta 83 (2007), p. 222-242 [en faveur d’une étymologie phénicienne].
81 RUNZA Roberta, « Tipologie rituali demetriache in Magna Grecia: la partecipazione maschile », Mythos 1 (2006-2007), p. 93-116 [les cultes de Déméter constituent un système rituel spécifique dans lequel le rôle des hommes et des femmes est déterminé par leur contribution à l’affirmation des valeurs sociales et politiques célébrées par de tels cultes].
82 ŞAHIN Hamdi, « Eine neue Weihinschrift für Zeus Epikarpios aus dem mittleren Rauhen Kilikien », EA 40 (2007), p. 35-40.
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83 SCHOLL Andreas, « Hades und Elysion – Bilder des Jenseits in der Grabkunst des klassischen Athens », JDAI 122 (2007), p. 51-79 [analyse des rares monuments funéraires qui représentent les défunts dans l’au-delà ou lors de leur passage d’un espace à l’autre].
84 SINEUX Pierre, « Dormir, rêver, montrer… À propos de quelques ‘représentations figurées’ du rite de l’incubation sur les reliefs votifs des sanctuaires guérisseurs de l’Attique », Kentron 23 (2007), p. 11-29 [analyse de quelques célèbres reliefs liés à des guérisons, mis en rapport avec le contenu des iamata d’Épidaure qui datent de la même période].
85 STIBBE Conrad M., « Mädchen, Frauen, Göttinen. Lakonische weibliche Bronzestatuetten und Stützfiguren archaischer Zeit », MDAI(A) 122 (2007), p. 17-102 [catalogue et analyse de ces figures féminines, avec mise en évidence du pouvoir d’identification de celles qui ornaient les manches de miroir avec leurs utilisatrices].
86 STIBBE Conrad, « Laconian Bronzes from the Sanctuary of Apollo Hyperteleatas near Phoiniki (Laconia) and from the Acropolis of Athens », BABesch 83 (2008), p. 17-45.
87 TORELLI Mario, « Artemide Hemera a Poseidonia. Contributo alla ricostruzione del pantheon di una colonia achea », IncidAntico 6 (2008), p. 11-47 [étude des correspondances possibles entre les cultes grecs originaux et les temples urbains encore existants de la colonie achéenne de Poseidonia].
88 TORJUSSEN Stian Sundell, « An Inscribed Gold Olive Leaf from Daphniotissa, near Elis », ZPE 166 (2008), p. 151-152 [tablette qui semble avoir échappé aux récents corpus des « tablettes orphiques »; mise en perspective de l’homogénéité des documents péloponnésiens].
89 TZOUKALA Victoria, « Honorary Shares of Sacrificial Meat in Attic Vase Painting: Visual Signs of Distinction and Civic Identity », Hesperia 78 (2009), p. 1-40 [la représentation de la viande de pattes sur des vases de la fin du VIe et du Ve s., en dehors de quelques scènes de boucherie, est interprétée comme l’illustration privilégiée de la notion de « part d’honneur » et peut dès lors être la marque d’une identité civique pour celui qui la reçoit].
90 WARNER SLANE Kathleen , « The End of the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore on Acrocorinth », Hesperia 77 (2008), p. 465-496.
91 WILLI Andreas, « Frösche, Sünder, Initianden: Zu einem Aristophanischen Rätsel », MH 65 (2008), p. 193-211.
92 WILLI Andreas, « νόσος and ὁσίη: etymological and sociocultural observations on the concepts of disease and divine (dis)favour in ancient Greece », JHS 128 (2008), p. 153-171
[sur la base de la reconstitution d’un non abstrait *(h1)osu, signifiant « bien-être », l’A. interprète ὁσίη comme l’état de ce qui est caractérisé par ce bien-être, voulu par les dieux en raison de leur bienveillance; l’adjectif ὅσιος serait dès lors une formation secondaire fondée sur le nom, lié à la faveur divine et pouvant faire référence à ce qui est « profane »].
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