Singular Dedications: Founders and Innovators of Private Cults in Classical Greece (Studies in Classics: Outstanding Dissertations, 1)

STUDIES IN CLASSICS OUTSTANDING DISSERTATIONS edited by Dirk Obbink Oxford University Andrew Dyck The University of Cal...

Author: Andrea Purvis

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STUDIES IN CLASSICS OUTSTANDING DISSERTATIONS edited by Dirk Obbink Oxford University Andrew Dyck The University of California, Los Angeles A Routledge Series

OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES SINGULAR DEDICATIONS Founders and Innovators of Private Cults in Classical Greece Andrea L.Purvis EMPEDOCLES An Interpretation Simon Trépanier FOR SALVATION’S SAKE Provincial Loyalty, Personal Religion, and Epigraphic Production in the Roman and Late Antique Near East Jason Moralee APHRODITE AND EROS The Development of Greek Erotic Mythology Barbara Breitenberger A LlNGUISTIC COMMENTARY ON LlVlUS ANDRONICUS Ivy Livingston RHETORIC IN CICERO’S Pro Balbo Kimberly A.Barber

SINGULAR DEDICATIONS Founders and Innovators of Private Cults in Classical Greece

Andrea Purvis ROUTLEDGE NEW YORK & LONDON

Published in 2003 by Routledge 29 West 35th Street New York, NY 10001 www.routledge-ny.com Published in Great Britain by Routledge 11 New Fetter Lane London EC4P 4EE www.routledge.co.uk Copyright © 2003 by Taylor & Francis Books, Inc. Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group. This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publishers. Purvis, Andrea, 1957– Singular dedications: founders and innovators of private cults in classical Greece/ Andrea Purvis. p. cm. —(Studies in classics: Outstanding dissertations; 1) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-415-96701-5 (Print Edition) 1. Greece—Religion. 2. Cults—Greece—History. 3. Xenophon—Religion. I. Title. II. Series. BL785.P87 2003 292.9–dc2l 2003000723 ISBN 0-203-49645-0 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-57871-6 (Adobe eReader Format)

To Diskin

Contents

List of Figures

vii

Series Editors’ Foreword

viii

Preface

ix

Abbreviations

x

Chapter 1:

Approaching Private Cults

1

Chapter 2:

Xenocratia

14

Chapter 3:

Archedamus of Thera

31

Chapter 4:

Xenophon

61

Conclusion

117

Notes

123

Bibliography

173

Index of Ancient Sources

190

Index of Divinities

194

List of Figures

1. Relief of Xenocratia, Ath. NM 2756: photo by Jenny Strauss Clay. 2. Relief portraying Cephisus, Ath. NM 1783: photo by Jenny Strauss Clay. 3. Portrait of Archedamus with table: sketch from Curtius and Kaupert, Atlas von Athen. AJA 7 (1903) 271, fig., 6 (enlarged). 4. Drawing of IG I3 977B: by Maurice Edwards Dunham, AJA 7 (1903) 297, no. 16 (enlarged). 5. Seated figure in Vari Cave: photo by Charles Heald Weller, AJA 7 (1903) 268, fig. 4 (enlarged).

21 25 38 43 47

Series Editors’ Foreword

This volume is the first in a new series, Studies in Classics: Outstanding Dissertations. In this series, we aim to bring high-quality work by emerging scholars to the attention of a wider audience. Emphasizing the study of classical literature and history, these volumes contribute to the theoretical understanding of human culture and society over time. This series will offer an array of approaches to the study of Greek and Latin authors and their reception, canons, the transmission of texts, ideas, religion, the history of scholarship, narrative, and the nature of evidence. While the focus is on Mediterranean cultures of the Greco-Roman era, perspectives from other areas, cultural backgrounds, and eras are to be included as important means to the reconstruction of fragmentary evidence and the exploration of models. The series will reflect upon the role classical studies has played in humanistic endeavors from antiquity to the present, and explore select ways in which the discipline can bring both traditional scholarly tools and the experience of modernity to bear on questions and texts of enduring importance. Dirk Obbink, Oxford University Andrew Dyck, The University of California, Los Angeles

Preface

This study began with questions about a subject both elusive in its evidence and, to me at least, fascinating; if it inspires readers with the same kind of motivation and leads to further work on the topic, I shall be gratified. In an era where monotheism deserves to be re-examined, I am especially glad to produce a small contribution to the study of polytheism, and hope that the gaps in my own work will be forgiven and viewed as an inspiration to further publications by others. I am deeply indebted to Kent Rigsby for his astute advice and tireless diligence as my dissertation advisor, as well as for his inspiring seminars and lectures on Greek religion and epigraphy, which stimulated my interest in and approach to this topic. I would also like to thank to W.R.Connor, for his sustained interest and sharing of his publications, to Francis Newton, for background in textual criticism and for imparting his high standards of conscientious scholarship, and to Keith Stanley, whose seminars on Greek and Latin literature influenced my treatment of the Anabasis, and who was helpful with essential bibliography. Finally, I owe special thanks to Diskin Clay, for generously sharing his work on private hero cults with me, for assisting me in obtaining William Gell’s manuscript, and more recently, for helping me to prepare this book for publication with rigorous exactitude and enduring patience.

Abbreviations

Abbreviations of journals not listed here follow AJA guidelines. Other works are abbreviated as in OCD3. CEG 1= CEG 2= Burkert, GR=

LGS=

LIMC= LSAM=

LSCG=

LSCG Suppl.=

Nilsson, GGR I3=

OCD3=

Peter Allan Hansen. Carmina Epigraphica Graeca. Saeculorum VIII-V a. Chr. N. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1983. Peter Allan Hansen. Carmina Epigraphica Graeca 2. Saeculi IV A. Chr. N. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1989. Walter Burkert. Greek Religion: Archaic and Classical. Translated by John Raffan. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1985. I.von Prott and L.Ziehen. Leges Graecorum Sacrae et titulis collectae. 2 vols. Leipzig, 1986–1906. Repr. Chicago: Ares Publ., 1988. Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae. Zürich: Artemis, 1981-. Franciszek Sokolowski. Lois sacrées d’Asie Mineure. École française d’Athenes, Travaux et Mémoires fasc. 9. Paris: E. 1955. Franciszek Sokolowski. Lois sacrées des cités grecques. École française d’Athenes, Travaux et Mémoires fasc. 18. Paris: E.de Boccard, 1969. Franciszek Sokolowski. Lois sacrées des cités grecques. Supplément. École française d’Athenes, Travaux et Mémoires fasc. 11. Paris: E.de Boccard, 1962. Martin P.Nilsson. Geschichte der griechiscben Religion 1: Die Religion Griechenlands bis auf die griechische Welterrschaft. Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft 5.2.1. Munich: C.H.Beck, 1967. Simon Hornblower and Antony Spawforth. The Oxford Classical Dictionary3. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996.

xi

CHAPTER 1 Approaching Private Cults

The purpose of this book is to address a topic often neglected in the study of Classical Greek religion: cults founded or funded by individuals as opposed to groups and political units, which are generally the central focus of scholarship on this period. The study of collective administration of cults is certainly valuable for the light it sheds on not only religious—but also social and political—history, but this is not the only dimension of Greek religion. The choices and innovations by individuals reflect both the “variety of religious experience” in Greek communities and certain common denominators of practice and belief that comprise the core on which collective cults are based. In the following pages, I shall examine foundation and expansion of cults by private individuals in the Classical period, focusing on three case studies. This topic is particularly significant to the way we view Greek piety, religious authority, human-divine relationships, and sanctity of place. In the cults of one’s family, deme, or polis, as well as in private cult associations, religious, economic, social, and political motives and consequences often converge and become nearly indistinguishable in examination of evidence. An analysis of individuals who assume the responsibility and expense for cults with little or no obvious economic and political aims, however, can advance our knowledge of Greek attitudes about piety and worship by eliminating some of the ambiguities of motives inherent in other types of cult participation. After a detailed inquiry into each cult, it will be possible to identify what the various cults have in common, whether there are typical characteristics or motives shared among cult founders, whether the gods honored in these cults can be classified according to a particular category, and ultimately, how this evidence may affect our notions of Classical Greek religion. DEFINITIONS Private cults were performed by choice rather than prescribed by polis or deme religious schedules, and were funded and administered without government intervention, while polis and deme cults were financed and planned by the demos ( ) or governing council.1 There was, however, much variation in the polis’s control and funding of cults, and the antithesis of “state” and “private”

2 SINGULAR DEDICATIONS

cults is admittedly an artificial construct that ignores the variety of degrees to which or ways in which the polis or deme intervened in religion.2 The polis often depended on cult associations that were organized according to subdivisions of the state and deme, as well as clans and non-familial groups, which were expected to fund and/or perform certain cult activities thought necessary for the state’s well-being. This study will focus on individuals rather than on groups, and on cases in which the individuals’ choices and means of establishing or modifying cults are clearly their own. Therefore the cults discussed here can be designated as “private,” “elective,” and “non-official,” in that they lack regulation and funding by the polis, sub-political units, or familial associations. Cult foundations as well as other religious acts of individuals can be designated as “private” in terms of initiative and financial outlay, but not in opposition to “public” as pertains to worship: the expression of piety is necessarily directed toward public and communal worship, since Greek gods are conceived in terms of human psychology and thus value honor and recognition by as many people as possible. Private cults complement rather than replace cults regulated by the state, although we shall see that metics may have depended on private cults to a greater degree than native citizens for their religious needs, simultaneously asserting their identity. Except for cases involving purchase of property by metics, there is no evidence that the polis or its cults controlled the establishment of private cults or determined an individual’s choices in foundations of sanctuaries except in the sense that polis religion could provide models for traditional worship.3 Some participants in private cults were allegedly accused of impiety at Athens, but the evidence is often late and unreliable, and these charges were generally accompanied by charges of immoral and politically dangerous behavior or offense to established gods of the city.4 The type of cult most often the target of this hostility was a type that is not the focus of this study: the private association, or thiasos, which centered around mystery rites and was characterized by exclusivity and secrecy together with activities considered obscene or frivolous. The principles of polytheism, however, did allow private cults centered around sacrifice to flourish alongside state cults, and the participant in these private cults did not worship one god to the exclusion of others or bar others from the cult, and insulted neither the community’s standards of decency nor the official gods of the polis. What the individuals discussed here have in common is that they have declared themselves accountable for the modification and administration of a site for the purposes of sacrifice or dedication to divinities. The first two founders are unknown in other contexts: Xenocratia, a woman who emphasizes her role as a mother in her dedication of an open-air shrine to a group of nature and polis gods, and Archedamus, a Theraean man who spends much time, but probably little money, on a cave cult of the nymphs and Apollo in Attica. The third founder is the well-known author Xenophon of Athens, in exile and settled in the Peloponnese in retirement or semi-retirement from his military career. Unlike the other founders he dedicates a cult to a goddess bearing an epithet referring to

APPROACHING PRIVATE CULTS

3

another land, Artemis Ephesia, builds a temple to her, and describes the cult in a work of literature, the Anabasis. My treatment of this cult is considerably more extensive than the rest because the evidence is as well; I provide a detailed commentary on the passage in question as well as exploring the literary significance of his account within the context of the Anabasis. Although I call these individuals cult founders and innovators, the term “cult” is a modern one; in Classical Greek, and refer to rituals, to refer to sacrifices, and or to designate the sacred space of the sanctuary.5 While “cult” seems to imply repeated worship, it is often difficult to know exactly how frequently and with what regularity nonofficial rites were performed. At times literary or epigraphic sources confirm that a deity receives annual or monthly sacrifices or the appointment of officials, and in these cases the designation, “cult,” is unambiguous. On the other hand, the erection of an altar by an individual may be followed by one sacrifice or repeated sacrifices; it represents the potential for recurrent rites and thus may be considered “private cult” in the sentiment of its foundation, if not in ensuing practice. By “innovators,” I do not mean that the individuals changed traditional methods of worship,6 and by “foundation,” I do not refer to the formal testamentary arrangements common in the Hellenistic period, but rather I mean that the individuals introduced or facilitated traditional kinds of worship offered to divinities of their choice at a site that could be frequented by the public. Although in some cases, previous worship may have taken place at the same site, the individuals’ contributions were substantial enough to be accompanied by inscriptions proclaiming their initiative and responsibility for the cult. PREVIOUS SCHOLARSHIP AND THE PRESENT STUDY While “individualism” in religion is no longer thought to have emerged only after the Classical period,7 the role of the polis still dominates most discussions of Classical cults. The emphasis on cults that were founded, regulated, and funded at least in part by the polis is to some extent justifiable, since polis religion was significant to the lives of the citizens and groups who participated in it and is accessible through extensive documentation as well as through its visibility in monuments, but this focus does tend to obscure an important part of religious life. Research on new cults has likewise centered primarily on adoption of gods by the state and their introduction by foreigners who needed state approval.8 Misconceptions that have arisen out of this emphasis on polis religion include the notion that piety was judged entirely by one’s participation in polis cults9 and that personal devotion to divinities occurred only with certain types of gods, such as those whose worship or shrines involved healing, mysteries, and oracles.10 This study will explore how piety was expressed in non-state cults, and toward a variety of divinities, both local and Panhellenic. While the collective approval or rejection of new or foreign gods and their worshippers is indicative of political and social attitudes, it is often difficult to


isolate religious from other types of motives when the decision is made by a political body. The religious significance of new cults, therefore, can best be perceived in a non-political context. Private cults are ideal for this purpose, but are difficult to study because they generally leave few traces in the literary, epigraphical, and archaeological record. We shall see that excavations of urban areas do sometimes reveal remains of small and modest sanctuaries likely to be private, but these shrines are not always easy to identify and individually they appear insignificant in archaeological reports. In rural contexts, all but the major Panhellenic shrines have been neglected by archaeologists until quite recently.11 Epigraphical evidence for private cults is less abundant and clear for economic reasons as well as because of the informal character of the cults. Without official funding and administration, private cults occasioned fewer inscriptions, and as we shall see, founders did not tend to inscribe extensive rules on stone. As a result, potential evidence of private cults is often unclear and neglected.12 Occasionally cults managed by familial and private groups are detected only when they have been incorporated into state religion.13 Thus, while it is likely that private individuals initiated many cults later administered by associations or political bodies, it is often impossible to identify these persons. For these reasons, I do not claim to have compiled a comprehensive survey of private cults, but instead have chosen three clear cases to discuss with parallels that are likewise unambiguous in status. The distribution of extant evidence also often results in the indiscriminate use of accounts from later periods in discussions of private religion in the Classical period. I have occasionally used later evidence, but with caution and chiefly for information on practical elements of customs and procedures that were not likely to change. I have also attempted to treat the founders and cults as unique in themselves, recognizing evidence that resists comparison, especially to state cults, where motives of the collective citizen body often differ from those of individuals. Like many studies of Classical Greek religion, this one is Atheno-centric, but should not imply the absence of private cults elsewhere. I have attempted to include cults outside of Athens wherever possible and relevant, but Athens figures in each of the three main studies because it has produced extensive data suitable for in-depth examination. A fifth-century critic of Athenian democracy, in fact, implies that Athens’s system of state-funded sacrifices differed from cult management elsewhere, where private wealthy individuals funded most sacrifices without state intervention.14 A bias toward wealthy founders is likewise inevitable in light of the permanence of the more lavishly decorated shrines set up by them with accompanying inscriptions. It should be kept in mind, however, that in addition to the cave cults such as the one discussed below, there were also piles of stones or flat rocks that served as the centerpiece of shrines and entailed no expense or inscriptions.15 Although private cult foundations of the Classical period have not previously been treated in depth as a topic separate from other aspects of religion, they are


5

discussed in several types of related studies that have helped to lay the groundwork for their treatment here. The work of F.T.Van Straten is crucial to understanding how individuals honored gods on their own initiative, and includes private cults in the context of other votive offerings as well as epiphanies.16 General discussions of the establishment and construction of sanctuaries and temples also often acknowledge private cult foundations and have been useful for collections of evidence pertaining to the proper methods of founding a cult.17 Works on Stiftungen discuss private cults set up with provisions for perpetual maintenance and funding, mostly from the post-Classical period.18 Although these studies sometimes include Xenophon’s cult,19 discussed here in chapter 4, we shall see that this is not a true testamentary foundation. Finally, this study has derived much inspiration and useful information from several detailed reports, commentaries, and essays related to and cited in the case studies. TYPES OF PRIVATE RELIGION Before exploring private cult foundations, it is worth considering the various other options open to individuals for private initiative in religion. Piety and personal devotion could be expressed in various ways that did not entail the efforts and obligations of a cult foundation. Domestic religion, that is, prayers and sacrifices to household gods, may be included in this classification only to the extent that individual families were responsible for them; but the state did expect and sanction the worship of Zeus Herkeios,20 whose cult was located in private households,21 and Apollo Patroos, a god of the phratry who was perhaps originally a household god.22 Zeus Ktesias received sacrifices performed by the head of a household, who decided whether he would invite friends or slaves to join the family in the ritual and feast.23 One could erect a shrine to a new divinity in one’s house, as, for example, Theophrastus’s “Superstitious Man” sets up a hero shrine in his home.24 But the remoteness of these shrines from the public as well as their small size and ease of maintenance render them of relatively negligible religious significance in contrast to cults established in more accessible areas. Whereas domestic cults relied on invitations to rites for extra-familial participants, and were thus private in terms of their exclu sivity, those outside the home assumed the admission of all unless otherwise specified by cult regulations. While the cults discussed in this study are perhaps closely related to familial and domestic cults in that they do sometimes occur on what may be private property and would logically fall to the heir of the founder, they depart from household cults as they tend to be characterized by an attitude of inclusion rather than exclusion. Cult associations are private if they operate entirely free of polis administration, with their members funding and planning cult activities on their own initiative. These groups became quite common in the Hellenistic and Roman periods, but also existed earlier.25 The family and the extended family must have formed the earliest cult groups and retained some of their earlier functions in the


cults controlled by the polis in the Classical period.26 Some orgeones and thiasoi were private, but there was much inconsistency between groups in activities, membership requirements, and their relation to the polis.27 They often worshipped local heroes at their own expense, but perhaps “for the public good.”28 The range of organization in structure and scheduling of these associations varied from regularly slated meetings at shrines to impromptu gatherings at private households or elsewhere. Motives of piety are most difficult to isolate for the more securely established groups. A cult association of immigrants, for example, originates out of the basic religious need to honor local or native deities and to secure their protection, but each participant obviously benefits socially, through companionship, communal meals, and achievement of identity as an individual within a group.29 Religious associations also enjoyed legal and economic benefits, at least by the fourth century.30 Impromptu gatherings of informal groups, on the other hand, may less ambiguously reflect piety alongside social and other motives. For example, the women of Athens together with non-citizens gathered periodically in homes and on rooftops to celebrate the Adonia, which was neither funded nor regulated by the state.31 The mysteries, also celebrated collectively, are frequently thought of as a type of private worship, in that participation in them is voluntary and presumably involves personal rather than familial or communal motives. And then there are the private associations that conducted mystery rites, which, as mentioned above, tended to provoke suspicion and hostility. The most detailed (yet elusive) and interesting evidence from the Classical period in terms of unofficial cult is the alleged ritual activity performed by Aeschines, his mother, and their thiasoi;32 purification and ecstatic rites take place apparently at a private residence as well as in the streets, so that we might classify this as a private cult without a shrine. Unlike the cults of the individuals which form the nucleus of this study, this one does not apparently center around an altar, and financial gain may have been a primary motive of the organizer of the cult;33 further, the participants seem to want relief from discomfort or immediate personal enlightenment, rather than an opportunity to honor a divinity with sacrifice. The term “private religion” is frequently used in reference to sacrifices, dedications, or other honors given to a state divinity or its image when not demanded by cult regulations of the polis or local political organization such as the Attic deme. Most commonly associated with this type of worship are divinities who grant health and healing, especially Asclepius.34 Sacrifices conducted by , private individuals, as opposed to the or are often mentioned in inscriptions.35 This activity occurs at state as well as private sanctuaries. Menander’s Dyskolos portrays a woman who sacrifices in shrines and caves throughout her deme every day;36 the frequency is probably an exaggeration of normal practice, but the informality and unofficial nature of these sacrifices is probably accurate for the Classical as well as the Hellenistic period.


7

Dedications to any god or hero can range from the smallest and cheapest—a lock of hair—to the largest and most expensive—a temple and estate. The wealthy could contribute land, buildings, or money as well as costly dedications to an established sanctuary. Political figures could have their contribution conspicuously inscribed, transforming piety into a display of social status or political power.37 The Athenian general Nicias, for example, bought an estate that cost 10,000 and dedicated its profits to sacrifices to Apollo at Delos.38 Liturgies were state-imposed obligations to dedicate one’s personal funds to help finance state festivals, yet seem to have been thought of as a way to express piety as well as loyalty to the state.39 But private devotion within state cults need not be expensive. In addition to dedication of inexpensive objects, options included proposals to the council or assembly concerning honors or celebrations of a deity and the production of goods such as pottery and statues as well as the composition and performance of hymns or drama. And as we shall see in the case of private cults, time and creative activity without monetary expense could result in respectable dedications. PRIVATE CULT FOUNDATIONS One of the most conspicuous ways to exhibit devotion to a deity was to introduce his or her worship to a new place. While introduction of new cults often occurred in the political realm, it sometimes took place without state sanction or funding, as a dedication on a larger scale than an offering placed in a shrine and involving a long-term commitment which would perpetuate honors to the divinity and facilitate honors paid by other worshippers. As noted above, a citizen could take steps to introduce a new god within the council or assembly, in which case his name may have been visible on inscriptions recording the proceedings, but the collective citizen body received credit for founding the cult. The reasons that an individual might act without state sanction could range from the founder’s exclusion from political assemblies to the desire to claim the credit for the dedication without the assistance or intervention of others. Plato’s Laws attests that private cults were quite common and were moti vated by distress or elation in the belief that the gods could help or were responsible for one’s present condition. According to Plato’s Athenian Stranger, dreams and epiphanies also led individuals, both men and women, native and foreign, to establish shrines, although he did not endorse this practice for his ideal state: No one who is sensible will ever try to alter any instructions that have come from Delphi or Dodona or Ammon, or that certain ancient traditions have persuaded some people to follow with precision when visions or inspiration from the gods occurred; in obedience,40 people instituted sacrifices with various rituals, their native customs combined with those from Etruria or Cyprus or some other country, and for such reasons they


consecrated words, statues, altars, and temples, and they portioned off a portion of land for each.41 What Plato says here we shall see confirmed in various ways by the evidence that follows: oracles are undoubtedly respected authorities on religious practices; subjective religious experiences are indeed taken seriously, and often lead to innovations in terms of new divinities to worship; and such innovations often come from outside the region in which they are established. But another passage of Plato denies that this sort of religious initiative is acceptable in the present. To establish sanctuaries and gods is not easy; to do this sort of thing correctly requires a great amount of a certain intelligence. But it is customary for all women especiaily, and men who are in any way weak, in danger, or in some kind of difficulty, and conversely, when they have just obtained some solution to their difficulty, to consecrate whatever is at hand at the time, vow to offer sacrifices, and promise to found shrines for gods and divinities and children of gods. As they recall the frequent visions they saw while awake because of their fear, or those seen in their dreams, they provide a remedy for each individually by founding altars and sanctuaries, and with them fill all homes, villages, open spaces, and any place they happen to have had such experiences.42 Plato’s advice to discourage private dedications of shrines in his ideal state stems from his theological view that the gods cannot be bribed and his political belief that all citizen activity must be directed rationally toward the benefit of the state and its unity. These are not typical attitudes, but they inadvertently reveal the historical circumstances to which Plato was reacting. Other passages in classical literature indicate that small shrines were in fact scattered among private dwellings at Athens and elsewhere: gods and heroes are called “neighbors” and are thought to protect the nearby inhabitants.43 Archaeological evidence confirms the ubiquity of shrines set up in no apparent order throughout Athens, between houses, some at very little expense to their founders, with merely an altar or a very modest temple,44 and it is likely that many of these were originally established by private individuals. Aristotle45 as well as Plato reacted to this custom, no doubt common throughout the Greek world, by recommending central or orderly placement of all sanctuaries, and Pausanias indicates that the Boeotian Tanagrans are unusual in their segregation of all their shrines from domestic dwellings.46 The erection of altars within state sanctuaries by individuals also occurred frequently, as is apparent from two decrees forbidding the practice at specific places in Attica: at the Pelargikon on the Athenian Acropolis the establishment of private altars was prohibited in the 420s without authorization of the Boule and demos,47 and at the Thesmophorion in Piraeus, a law forbade private shrines as well as assemblies of private thiasoi and rites without the priestess except on festival days.48 An order to the Archon Basileus


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to delimit the boundaries of the shrines in the Pelargikon,49 which precedes the prohibition against unauthorized altars, suggests that the stages of founding a shrine could be fluid and gradual: an individual could set up an altar that later, and even by the act of another, would be defined within boundaries and take on the aspect of a more formal cult. Plato’s claims about the characteristics and motives of the founders are clearly influenced by his rhetorical and philosophical aims. The study that follows will test these assertions against the extant evidence and address the question: were the founders really mostly women and weak men motivated by fear? A further aspect of the cults mentioned by Plato to be explored in this study is the introduction of the cult from outside of the state, a recurrent phenomenon in both mythical and historical cult foundations. One of the primary practical motives in this type of cult foundation was the provision of worship otherwise hindered by restrictions on non-citizens’ access to worship. Any cult could restrict access to certain persons or types of persons, for example, foreigners, women, or all visitors,50 but extant regulations seem to be more common in state than in private cults. Athenian demes as well as the polis sometimes specified which metics could share in their rites.51 It is well known that foreigners who wished to buy land on which to establish a sanctuary were required to obtain enktesis from the Athenian government.52 Inscriptions indicate that the Egyptians residing in Athens obtained this grant for a shrine of Isis, as did Cyprians for a shrine of Aphrodite,53 and Thracians for a shrine of Bendis.54 But the law requiring enktesis prevented no one from worshipping any god on private property of citizens or in public sanctuaries. It is likely that altars set up on rented property55 or in sanctuaries (with the permission of sanctuary officials) often provided the means for the landless to worship their own gods. The foundation of private shrines and sanctuaries, then, provided convenience and easy access to worship for both metics and citizens, and was particularly valuable for metics who might be excluded from state rites or who wished to worship their native gods in accordance with their own traditions. Manifestations of private religion often reflect belief in the special proteo tion or favor of a god. The personal relationship one shares with a god on an inner level is sometimes expressed in visual images and votive inscriptions, which can be compared to literary descriptions of religious experiences. For example, Euripides portrays his Hippolytus engaged in hunting, prayer, and dedication as a mark of his devotion to Artemis as Huntress, although Hippolytus is somewhat impious and an anomaly in his excessive devotion to one deity at the expense of another.56 We shall see that representations of personal religious experience in the evidence for historical private cult foundations are sometimes comparable to those in literary sources.


HOW TO FOUND A CULT Before confronting the rituals associated with cult foundations, it is important to keep in mind that the delineation of land and erection of permanent structures were not considered requisites of worship. The basis of worship was the offering to the god. One could honor a divinity anywhere, through sacrifice or libation, whether or not that divinity had an altar or shrine. A statue could be rendered an object of cult through offerings performed before it such as of incense.57 Aristophanes offers a glimpse of modest ceremonies inaugurating worship of divinities, where we find portable altars and offerings of pots filled with boiled vegetables, apparently thought (at least later) to represent acknowledgment and thanks to the gods for the earliest diet of civilized humans, but obviously also an economic alternative to animal sacrifice.58 Apparently one could consecrate a statue with a portable altar, and a statue or altar with an informal and vegetarian offering. This type of private religion is perhaps the most elusive of all; it has neither a stationary base nor material remains identifying it. The foundation of a more formal cult, however, involves the dedication of land to a god specifically for the purpose of worship with the acknowledgement that the place of cult is somehow also the dwelling of the god. Although every family had its own shrines on the property of its home, this land was probably not considered sacred. Most household altars and even hearths seem to have been portable,59 and we hear of ancestral gods being transported to another polis. Lycurgus berates an Athenian man who intended to settle in Megara and transferred “the ancestral hiera,…which left behind the temples and the land that they had possessed” ( ).60 The polemic context suggests that the possession of temples and land is an exaggeration of the household niches and altars common in houses. The hiera probably include portable altars and images, which must have been transported also when families moved to a new place within the same polis. While every head of a household was thus in a sense the owner of private cults, he was not necessarily a holder of sacred land. In Athens, however, public sacred land could exist within private property: Lysias 7 concerns a sacred olive tree on private property that changed hands repeatedly.61 These trees were the ultimate responsibility of state officials.62 They can be thought of as “mini-temene,…little sacred spaces cut out of private land,”63 and thus resemble shrines within a larger piece of private property. Their administration by the state and care by those who own the land around them, however, make them more similar to leased sacred land (public or private), which has as its caretaker a third party intermediary between the divine and human owners. The trees were not the site of worship, and did not involve individual religious initiative. Land that is used as a place of worship is sometimes perceived as an area chosen and marked by a god. It may be the site of a divine event, for example a stroke of lightning sent by Zeus or an epiphany. The land may also be considered


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the habitation of a divinity because of its landscape, for example, springs, trees, caves, or rocks. The oracular authority claimed for the foundations of cults also implies that the site of a sanctuary is divinely selected, even if the oracle merely gave approval to a human decision.64 The gods delineate their sacred space and humans recognize and augment its sanctity with altars, images, and buildings. Consecration rituals secure divine approval and protection for the sacred status of the land. The act of consecration entails the demarcation of the area from profane use by means of a fence, a wall, stones, or stelae, and is implied in the term used to designate sacred land (of both sanctuaries and estates), temenos, from , to cut. This procedure is sometimes described in the context of reconsecration of land that had fallen into profane use. In the fourth century, the Amphictyones decreed that in response to the Amphissians’ encroachment on sacred land near Delphi, their officials mark off the boundaries with stelae ( ).65 Similarly, in the same century the Athenians saw to it that the sacred orgas, Eleusinian land that the Megarians had turned to secular use, was surrounded by stelae to restore its sacred status in accordance with an oracle.66 This land was to be left uncultivated, perhaps because it contained a sacred landmark,67 which implied its ownership by a god and exemption from human use. The consecration of boundaries is also visible in archaeological evidence of boundary stones.68 Land consecrated by a private individual was as sacred as state sacred land, but lacked the support and authority of stable political administration. Without the scale and continuity of government organization, it was more likely to fall into neglect and deterioration, although state cults were not thought to be immune from the same danger, as Aeschylus implies: when a city is conquered, its gods abandon it, as they did at Troy.69 Both negligence and war or changes in political circumstances led to profane use of sanctuaries as well as sacred land. A clear example of this is seen in an inscription ordering the restoration of shrines and sacred estates in Attica and Salamis at the beginning of the Imperial period.70 Private cults were certainly more liable to fall into ruin if the founder did not form an association with which to share expenses and responsibilities. Associations could hold extensive property by combining members’ donations and could profit by leasing or selling the property;71 these cults were thus more financially secure than cults funded and administered by individuals. Private sacred land is not a category admitted into Aristotle’s classification of land for an ideal state, which is obviously not an accurate reflection of reality.72 This ideal division of land is as follows: 1. Private property 2. Public property, whose profits are devoted to: A. Gods B. Common messes


Aristotle, like Plato, reacts against contemporary practice, and ignores or denies the existence of private cults. The common use in other sources of the term , public, in opposition to , private, on the one hand, and , sacred, in opposition to , secular, on the other hand, suggests that the category of sacred could embrace both public and private.73 Private cult land in a sense overlaps the categories of sacred, public, and private property. The land is sacred in that it is dedicated to the gods, public, in that it may be open to all who wish to visit it, and private, in that, in most cases, it was purchased or inherited by one or more individuals rather than owned by the state or deme. An exception is the case of cave cults such as that of Archedamus (chapter 3). The land within some caves probably legally belonged to the deme along with other non-productive or uninhabited land that had never been the object of legal transactions, such as an agora or pastures open to the public.74 At least some of Mount Hymettus was public pasture land by the first century B.C.75 and it was probably used for this purpose earlier; a cave on this property would also be open to common use. The deme would not be likely object to anyone, even a foreigner, improving a place traditionally or potentially sacred and otherwise of no profitable use. Thus the land within a cave was legally deme property, but the cult was private, in that it was not funded or regulated by the deme. The legal status of other private cult property is more complicated, because the owner is a god, the administrators, humans, who operate under private law. There is no evidence for a public law prohibiting sale of sacred land in private possession, although individuals or groups could ban sale, lease, or mortgage in their regulations, and since such land was often the property of an association or family, it was not often sold.76 On the other hand, theoretically, the divine owner could not be displaced by a new ownen But after its consecration the land could gain new owners who, in religious terms, were really administrators for divine owners; in this sense, then, the land was inalienable.77 This distinction between divine owner and human custodian is largely irrelevant in the practice of human transactions involving land, except that an oracle might be consulted to assure divine approval for its consecration or reconsecration. The eventual neglect of Xenophon’s cult (chapter 4) confirms that divine ownership, even of land used for worship, did not protect the land from falling into disuse or being converted to secular use and treated as any other kind of land. The erection of an altar constitutes another basic element in the foundation of a sanctuary, as is evident in a passage of Herodotus that describes how Maeandrius founded a sanctuary: he “first set up an altar to Zeus Eleutherius and delimited the temenos around it”: 3.142.2). The first sacrifice at the altar was probably considered part of the consecration78 in which the founder participated more directly than in the labor of enclosing the shrine. The sacrifice would be preceded by a procession.79 In newly established cults, subsequent processions may have recalled the god’s introduction; for example, the introduction of Asclepius to Athens included a procession whose


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yearly repetition was in some ways a commemoration and reenactment of the foundation ceremony.80 Cults relying on natural features of the landscape for ritual furnishings, such as the cult of Archedamus discussed in chapter 3, present another, more primitive, alternative to the practice of delimiting boundaries and erecting permanent altars in the consecration ceremony, since the landscape provides these. The rites inaugurating these cults could include the erection of inscriptions declaring the sanctity of the place to a certain divinity or group of divinities and often the individual’s claim of responsibility for modifying the landscape for ritual purposes. These elements of cult foundation should be borne in mind as part of the lost background of the cults in the case studies that follow; most often we lack explicit evidence for the procedures themselves. We shall however, learn much about other elements of cult as well as the kinds of people who found them, and their perceptions of their relationships with the gods.

CHAPTER 2 Xenocratia

Why are private cults founded? The following case study suggests that the motives behind private foundations are as unique as the individuals responsible for them, and that it may be unwise to try to reconstruct motives for these foundations from expectations based on public cults. The number and range of interpretations already proposed concerning this foundation indicate that certain and final answers to the questions it has raised may be impossible. But consideration of the inscriptions and monuments in light of parallels, especially of other private cults, will help to clarify some of the issues formerly treated as those of state cults. A relief and dedicatory inscription set up by a woman in the region of New Phaleron ca. 400 along with related monuments have long been a subject of disputed interpretations.1 The monuments were found at the old mouth of the Cephisus River, within the site of the long walls connecting the Piraeus to Athens.2 There are no known buildings connected with the cult, but several reliefs and inscriptions from the same area and roughly the same time have survived, probably originally erected in a grove.3 The following inscription announces the foundation of the shrine and was found on the base of a relief:4

Xenocratia, daughter of Xeniades and mother of Xeniades, of Cholleidai, founded a sanctuary of Cephisus and dedicated to the gods sharing the altar this gift (in return) for instruction. Whoever wishes to is permitted to sacrifice for the fulfillment of good things.

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Xenocratia uses a formula common in reporting foundations of sanctuaries: with the accusative of the word for the shrine or altar and the genitive of the god’s name.5 The location of the shrine is not Xenocratia’s home deme, but the River Cephisus and its tributaries flow through that deme as well as many others, emptying into the sea at Phaleron.6 Wherever she lived, Xenocratia probably considered the river very much a part of her home and worthy of honor, but what were her specific motives in setting up this shrine? The inscription is composed mostly in hexameters,7 which perhaps accounts for some of the ambiguities that make interpretation difficult, especially the significance of . It has been proposed that for we should understand ;8 since thank offerings were quite common, the genitive alone would be readily understood. Further, the dedication and the accompanying relief, which shows interaction of gods and mortals, may be didactic in itself, serving as an example of piety, and thus we might render the phrase, “gift consisting of a lesson,” or , “for the purpose of a lesson.”9 A parallel to the use of sculpture with inscription serving as a lesson is found in the epigrams of the third-century B.C.poet Posidippus, in which a statue of tells the passerby what its attributes symbolize, for example, it has winged feet because it flies like the wind.10 It concludes by answering the question, why did the craftsman construct it?: .11 In other words, by learning the attributes of , the viewer can learn to make the most of the right occasion. Xenoeratia perhaps intended to thank the god for instruction and to illustrate on her relief how it occurred and thus the honor due to the god. The last sentence of Xenocratia’s inscription, apparently another condensed expression, has given rise to different interpretations. Homolle claims that the last two lines are divided from the preceding lines by a cleanly cut line designating the change of topic.12 Some scholars thus read as a formal cult law, indicating that one may sacrifice “on the appropriate terms,” that is, “after paying the requisite fee.”13 But the expression does not normally signify “fees,” and if it did so here, we would expect an amount to be specified to clarify the phrase. The mention of’ , “The Bringer of Blessings,” as one of the state divinities of Mytilene in a fourth-century decree14 is a further sign that these words should not indicate payments here. Unlike Xenocratia’s inscription, sacred laws for all types of cults generally contain specific details concerning fees or sacrificial victims,15 and it is therefore unlikely that her inscription was meant to serve as a cult regulation. The first word of the phrase is apparently a verbal adjective of in a genitive absolute phrase or of , following the preposition, which, like the genitive absolute, can signify purpose16 or cause.17 Both verbs mean to accomplish or fulfill. The phrase encompasses both gratitude and hope for good things from the gods, both reasons being significant motives to perform sacrifice.


The verbal adjective and neuter substantive can be interpreted with the sense of ,18 reflecting an invitation to others to sacrifice when good things have happened, that is, when gods have fulfilled prayers, presumably as they did for Xenocratia. The verbal adjective can also convey possibility,19 thus indicating that if sacrifice is made, good things can occur. Inscribed state cult regulations also sometimes include encouragement of offerings made in gratitude as well as in the hope for future blessings, using similar language, but usually in addition to precise rules for sacrifice.20 A state cult regulation of Hellenistic Thasos distinguishes between these two functions of sacrifice, charging a fee for thank-offerings, but not for sacrifices made for the purpose of future benefits.21 Xenocratia’s inscription neatly compresses the two motives for sacrifice into one phrase, and does not regulate, but rather promotes and encourages sacrifice. Another private cult inscription can be compared for the sense of the phrase. The motive of gratitude, the promise of similar benefits to others, and the encouragement of unrestricted cult participation are expressed in an expanded form in a metrical inscription from fifth- or fourth-century Thessaly. An otherwise unknown Pantalces set up an inscription near the entrance to a cave at Pharsalus, dedicating the “work” to the goddesses, apparently the nymphs.22 In another inscription, also near the entrance to the cave, he enumerates in verse the number of divinities of the site and their gifts to himself. The place, he says is sacred to the nymphs, Pan, Hermes, Apollo, Heracles and his companions, and the cave belongs to Chiron, Asclepius, and Hygieia. The nymphs put him in charge, helped him decorate the place, and gave him distinction and a means of living; Heracles granted him physical strength and excellence to move and carve the stones; Apollo, his son Asclepius, and Hermes, good health and a means of living; Pan, laughter and a just hybris; Chiron, wisdom and skill in poetry.23 Pantalces thus shows that the circumstances surrounding his foundation intersect with his personal life, advertising the specific blessings he received from the other deities, and implying that others will too. His closing lines, unfortunately fragmentary, express a recommendation to others, similar to Xenocratia’s, that fittingly reflects the dedicator’s own gratitude for the gods’ blessings:

But with good luck, step up, sacrifice to Pan, pray and make vows, have a good time;…from all things bad is in this place, allotment(?) of good things and alleviation(?) of hostility. The dedicator Pantalces is, in contrast to Xenocratia, quite clear about what blessings the gods have given him, but vague about cult regulations. He does

XENOCRATIA 17

not, however, express the gods’ gifts as his motive for decoration of the cave, but rather as benefits he acquired through his service to the divinities. Although the sanctuary honors a number of deities, Pantalces mentions only Pan in his invitation to sacrifice as if to emphasize and advertise the joyful and lighthearted mood of the cult; it is this particular blessing that he most wants to share with visitors to the shrine. The description of his blessings is both personal and capable of attracting worshippers of his gods. The inscription thus seems to bear three functions: first to recognize and offer thanks for divine gifts, secondly, to declare his own role in fitting out the cult site; and third, to encourage others to worship these gods and give thanks for as well as enjoy similar blessings in the future. By analogy we might expect Xenocratia’s inscription to have the same functions. She compresses these thoughts into a minimum of words: she has set up a to Cephisus and a group of gods in return for (or for the sake of) , and anyone who wishes may sacrifice in gratitude or in hope for their own blessings. Concern for the continuance of the cult is expressed, but in general terms attractive to the visitor. Presumably in both cults arrangements for sacrifice were known by the administrators and perhaps were expected to be handed down to family members by tradition; visitors might be charged a fee as the administrators saw fit or as was posted for convenience and flexibility on wood or other disposable writing surfaces. Private as well as public cults probably used wooden tablets, or , quite often, but we usually hear about them only when an inscription on stone is ordered to be copied on wood as well. For example, the foundation of a late third-century B.C.cult established on Thera by a private individual, Epicteta, was recorded both on stone25 and on wood.26 The absence of regulations recorded on stone in some private cults may indicate that administrators of the cults did not wish to impose fees on worshippers unless they experienced financial difficulties in maintaining the shrine. The relief that was erected over Xenocratia’s inscription and a stele found in the same place and inscribed with names of gods in the dative case have been used as clues to the identity of the gods honored at the shrine and the “instruction” cited by Xenocratia. The inscription on the stele reads, .27 Neither the specific identity of the gods nor the purpose of this inscription are altogether certain. It is possible that some of the deities have more than one epithet: Artemis Lochia Ileithya may refer to one goddess, a helper in childbirth, as Geraistai Nymphai Genethliai probably designate one set of Kourotrophoi, nurturers of children.28 Apollo Pythios is the same god as Apollo Patroos,29 worshipped by phratries and overseer of the family, although his presence here may also indicate oracular sanction from Delphi for the dedication of the shrine.30 Since most of the divinities seem to be concerned with having and raising children, and the relief itself portrays Xenocratia’s child, the otherwise unknown Rhapso is often thought to be kourotrophic as well, in the sense that


she might stitch together or heal.31 An association with rhapsodes, as suggested by Dragoumes and Wilamowitz, is unlikely because the word element meaning song ( ) is lacking.32 The presence of Apollo, nymphs, who are sometimes prophetic and elsewhere,33 a Rhapso who may also “stitch together one’s destiny” has led to the impression that the shrine was oracular as well as kourotrophic in nature.34 Prophetic or oracular activity cannot be discounted, since it may have been conducted in conjunction with sacrifice or by some other means now impossible to detect in what remains. But is reasonable to assume that the chief purpose of the shrine was to provide a site for sacrifice to local deities. Xenocratia’s perhaps intentional neglect to describe the type of blessings associated with these gods attracts a wide range of visitors with varying interests. Hestia may represent a recipient of the dedication whose name is listed first because of her association with the family in general. But the placement of her name first may indicate that the stele’s purpose is to signify the order of sacrifice, as she is often mentioned as the first receiver of sacrifice when a number of gods are honored.35 While the position of Hestia does suggest a list of sacrificial gods, it is difficult to find parallels for this abbreviated form of cult regulation. Sokolowski agrees with previous scholars that this is a sacrificial list,36 but his collections of sacred laws of the Greek mainland (for both state and private cults) contain no sacrificial list of gods in the dative case without the prescription of the date of the sacrifice, type of victim, or the cost.37 The formula of the list of gods in the dative case resembles rather dedicatory inscriptions, which may or may not include the dedicator’s name.38 Therefore the stele inscription may be understood as primarily a dedication, perhaps associated with a place of sacrifice. Did its dedicator consider also a secondary function, an informal and abbreviated form of sacrificial law omitting the times and the victims of sacrifice? The private nature of the cult may be the reason for informality and omission of details as well as the variety and obscurity of some of the gods honored. The stele’s list of divinities may inform us about some of the sanctuary’s activity, but it cannot be used as an exact guide to identities of the gods represented in the foundation relief. The three gods and remaining goddesses listed on the stele cannot possibly be equated with the five gods and six goddesses on the relief. The list in fact may have been inscribed slightly later than the dedicatory inscription and relief.39 The most likely explanation for the discrepancy is that the list represents gods prescribed by the oracle of Apollo, when presented with Xenocratia’s inquiry concerning her shrine to Cephisus. Numerous sources indicate that approval and advice from an oracle were a normal part of the procedure for setting up sanctuaries or institution of worship.40 A private cult foundation inscription from third-century B.C.Paros may provide an explanation for the relationship between the stele list and Xenocratia’s relief. A certain Mnesiepes reports how he founded a sanctuary to Archilochus and divinities of music and poetry, apparently in three steps, each of

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which involved consultation of the oracle. His first step was to set up a temenos and altar to the Muses, Apollo Leader of the Muses, and Mnemosyne:

The god advised Mnesiepes that it would be better and more favorable for him, in the precinct which he is establishing, having set up an altar and sacrificing to the Muses and Apollo Leader of the Muses and Mnemosyne: to sacrifice to and obtain good omens from Zeus Hyperdexius (Protector), Athena Hyperdexia (Protectress), Poseidon Asphaleius (Protector of Constructions), Heracles, and Artemis Eukleia. indicates that Mnesiepes was already in the The present tense of process of equipping the shrine when he asked for approval from Apollo. The participles evidently indicate what he had already done, the infinitives, Apollo’s new orders; that is, he had already built the altar and sacrificed to the Muses, Apollo, and Mnemosyne before asking for the god’s sanction.42 It was quite common to consult the oracle after having conceived of a plan in the expectation that the god would approve and designate specific gods to be honored for success in the venture.43 In this case it is clear that Apollo has added divinities to those Mnesiepes originally had intended to honor. Perhaps soon afterward, Mnesiepes decided to set up another altar, this time to Dionysus, the Nymphs, and the Horai, and received an oracle, recorded below the one quoted above and in similar language, ordering him to add sacrifices to Apollo Prostaterius (Protector), Poseidon Asphaleius (Protector of Constructions44), and Heracles (8– 12). In the last phase, Mnesiepes inquired about his intent to honor the poet Archilochus, to which the reply indicated that he should proceed as planned: (14–15). The divinities added by Apollo evidently assured the safety and security of the new constructions and the worshippers in the cult, but it is difficult to discern the precise reasons for the addition of each god. In any case, we may assume a similar process occurred in Xenocratia’s foundation. The stele was probably set up near an altar for one set of symbomoi dictated by Apollo in response to an inquiry concerning a shrine to Cephisus. Xenocratia’s relief, on the other hand, represents the deities who figure in her motives for setting up the shrine and help to illustrate the for which she is grateful. The surplus of male


divinities on the relief in comparison with the stele list does not imply Apollo’s silence or disapproval concerning their worship, but rather that they may have been designated for honors by an inscription that is no longer extant. Xenocratia’s specific motives, therefore, must be gleaned mainly from her own inscription and relief.45 Unfortunately, we do not know how exactly the sculptor was able to accomplish her specifications. She may have given him a sketch and/or a verbal or written description. Some iconographic attributes and perhaps the names of the divinities were painted and no longer visible,46 aiding contemporary visitors to the shrine in interpreting Xenocratia’s motives. Of the thirteen figures on the relief shown in figure 1, Xenocratia and her son are identifiable by their reduced size,47 and the god on the far left, by his tripod seat and omphalos, as Pythian Apollo. On the far right Achelous appears in his usual form of a protome with beard and horns.48 The female figures to the right of Apollo and behind and to the left of Achelous are assumed to include Artemis, Leto, the nymphs, Callirhoe, Rhapso, Eileithyia, and by some scholars, Hestia.49 The figure most significant for the interpretation of Xenocratia’s motives and is the male interacting with her toward the center and in the foreground of the relief. This beardless youth stoops down toward Xenocratia with his right arm bent and index finger raised, his palm turned toward himself. He wears a band around his short hair and a himation slung over his left shoulder, in addition to what looks like an animal skin draped over his left arm. His feet are bare. He rests his right foot on a block about as tall as his knee. The boy next to Xenocratia stretches up his hand toward him, and Xenocratia raises both arms from bent elbows with palms open and facing each other. This gesture is often interpreted as one of prayer,50 but it should be noted that in contemporary sculpture a praying figure most often raises only one hand, and the palm faces the divinity.51 This arrangement of figures probably depicts Xenocratia’s reception of , a symbol of the “lesson” for which the dedication is a thank offering.52 The extension of the finger of a hand raised toward a companion is common in scenes of advising or reasoning, although in this case, too, the iconography is slightly divergent: the palm is usually facing in a different direction, to the side or toward the person being advised.53 The position of the divinity’s head makes it clear that Xenocratia rather than her son is the main recipient; the eyes of the woman and the god seem to meet, while the boy attempts but does not succeed in receiving the direct attention of the god. The divinity does, however slightly extend the forefinger of his left hand in the direction of the child’s head. But he holds this hand close to his body rather than extending it down toward the child, as though including him in the instruction indirectly. Although the gestures may be influenced by the sculptor’s skill and understanding of Xenocratia’s instructions, the positions of the hands and heads of these figures suggest that the divinity is imparting from himself (hence palm toward himself) to Xenocratia some sort of knowledge which she receives and embraces as it is passed to her. Her son aspires to this knowledge by reaching

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Figure 1. Relief of Xenocratia, Ath. NM 2756: photo by Jenny Strauss Clay. Reprinted by permission


toward the god, his hand stretched up in line with the god’s face and against the protecting background of the god’s garment draped over his bent knee. The god has often been identified as Cephisus, the main recipient of the dedication. The association of Cephisus with a child is not surprising. Dedication of sheared hair by youths to Cephisus was an Athenian rite commemorating the passage of boys into adulthood. Pausanias describes a statue beside the River Cephisus and along the Sacred Way of a mother and her son cutting his hair, apparently as a dedication to the river.54 Local river gods throughout the Greek world were honored with offerings of hair by youths passing from boyhood to adulthood; evidence begins with the Iliad,55 but the age at which hair was cut as well as the honored divinity seems to vary greatly according to time and place.56 A boundary stone found in the Athenian agora and dated to ca. 400 B.c. indicates that the phratry Gleontis worshipped Cephisus there,57 but evidence for other phratries or for a phratry connection with our relief is lacking. The third day of the Apaturia festival celebrated by phratries was called (thought to 58)and this would seem to be the appropriate time for the be derived from ), however, names river to receive hair from children; Hesychius (s.v Artemis as the divinity who received children’s hair on this day. But the frequently attested proper name Cephisodotus (which appears also in the evidence for this cult) and the apparent absence or rarity of other names referring to rivers also points to the significance of this particular river for children.59 Thus it is possible that the connection between Cephisus and the dedication of the shrine had something to do with Xeniades’s maturity and dedication of hair to the god, but was not necessarily directly related to a phratry. Given Cephisus’s associations with the growth of children, it is easy to see why has been interpreted as upbringing or nurture aided by the river god, and the relief as a depiction of Xenocratia commending Xeniades to the gods, probably at the time of a vow contingent on Xeniades reaching adulthood.60 But and its cognates are not elsewhere used as synonyms for upbringing or health, and the river god’s role in education is not otherwise attested. Further, is unmetrical (the first should be short, but must be lengthened to fill out the hexameter), although emendation of the preceding word and the supposition that this was a mistake of the engraver rather than the composer has solved this problem.61 Nevertheless, the word is neither the most obvious nor the most correct way to indicate upbringing. A more appropriate term for this sense is , sometimes used to designate education, but often referring to the rearing of children, as by Aeschylus and with by Plato.62 It is also used in a contemporary metrical inscription found at Olympia recording the dedica tion of a statue of Gorgias by his great-nephew .63 If Xenocratia had wanted to thank the god for the successful rearing of her child, she could have had inscribed in the same meter, .

XENOCRATIA 23

Therefore it seems that Xenocratia did not mean “upbringing” by . Some scholars suggest that it can be understood in one of its usual senses, training or instruction, but in a religious sense: the central figure is a priest represented in an act of religious instruction, and Xenocratia is grateful for some type of initiation.64 But what mysteries are associated with the river god or his priest? Neither the language nor the iconography resemble those of mysteries of 65 and see the Classical period, for which we would expect a reference to 66 the initiator wearing long hair, heavy garments, and boots. This interpretation is thus not entirely satisfactory, yet does recognize—and goes further in trying to . But the identification of the solve—the difficulty of interpreting central figure as a human is also questionable. Reliefs of this period usually portray humans noticeably smaller than gods, usually about three quarters of their size. This figure is much larger than Xenocratia; his head is the size of those of the other deities, and his stature is only slightly shorter, but appears lesser because he is bending down toward the mortals. And the inscription implies that Cephisus or one of his symbomoi theoi deserve thanks for the . Walter suggests more plausibly that the instruction was the type that a boy might obtain at school, but does not explain exactly how this instruction is related to Cephisus, who he claims is the figure interacting with Xenocratia.67 Other finds from the sanctuary, in fact, call into question the identification of the god who faces Xenocratia as Cephisus. At about the same time as the erection of Xenocratia’s dedication, a relief68 was set up with an inscription on its base identifying a certain Cephisodotus, who claims that he “set up the altar, too”: .69 On the relief itself appears the inscription with a dedication to Hermes and the Nymphs.70 A relief carved on the other side of this one and of a slightly later date71 identifies the figures with these names carved across the top above their heads: .72 The relief shows the abduction of a maiden or nymph, lasile, by the local hero Echelus on a four-horse chariot, which Hermes seems to be leading. The second half of the line of the dedicatory inscription on the first relief is very damaged, and therefore cannot be used with certainty in interpretation.73 The relief is significant here because it shows deities, Hermes and Echelus, not mentioned in the inscribed list of gods nor in Xenocratia’s inscription and thus serves as further confirmation that deities other than those on the stele were associated with the shrine, whether or not they played a role in Xenocratia’s motives. Echelus was worshipped at Athens by orgeones in the early third century B.C. in conjunction with certain heroines, according to a decree found on the Areopagus.74 The decree records an earlier cult law dating to the mid-fifth century concerning “the hero,” and since he is not named in the early record, we cannot securely identify him with the Echelus portrayed on the relief.75 Little is known of this hero, although Walter proposed that the rape scene on the relief symbolizes the institution of the Panathenaic chariot race at the nearby Hippodrome.76 There is nothing to confirm this hypothesis, and it is


perhaps inadvisable to impose a reflection of a public institution on a private cult. Edwards suggests the relief depicts the foundation of the genos Echelidai, which must have involved the abduction of lasile, a theory that at least would not contradict the specifically local character of this cult.77 The dedicator of the altar mentioned on the base of the other relief, Cephisodotus, is of the deme Boutadai, just outside of Athens, and the Cephisus flows through this deme. He, like Xenocratia, may have lived elsewhere, perhaps in Phaleron or the Piraeus, near this shrine. Edwards suggests that the altar that he set up was the main altar of the sanctuary, noting that votive altars, in contrast to cult altars, normally bear their own dedicatory inscriptions.78 Cephisodotus, whose name helps to explain his interest in a cult to the river god, may have collaborated with Xenocratia in founding the sanctuary: she provided the hieron, he paid for the altar, and both had reliefs erected to decorate the shrine. Cephisodotus’s relief is similar in style to Xenocratia’s, though less crowded, and is thought to have been carved by the same sculptor.79 A comparison of his relief with Xenocratia’s will help to discern the identity of the figure communicating with Xenocratia on her relief. On the far left of figure 2, a woman wearing a knee-length tunic and nebris, identified by scholars as Artemis,80 stands somewhat apart from but looking toward the five other figures to the right. An unidentifiable bearded male faces her in profile. Next to him in the center of the relief stands a bearded male with horns wearing a himation, in frontal position. Three women in heavy garments, two facing the center, one in frontal position, fill out the right side of the relief, and are probably nymphs.81 The man facing Artemis is said to be Echelus, but the absence of attributes makes this uncertain. The central figure is unarguably Cephisus.82 Aelian says that the Athenians portrayed Cephisus as a dignified human with horns,83 and there is no doubt that the figure here fits this description. The god looks nothing like the youthful figure on Xenocratia’s relief. The disparity in the appearance of these two figures, sculpted at the same time and by the same hand calls into question the identification of both as Cephisus. That he is represented only on Cephisodotus’s relief is likely not only because of Aelian’s testimony, but also by the fact that Classical images of river gods always bear some attribute of a bull and are depicted as beardless youths (but with bull horns or ears) in Western Greece alone.84 Therefore the god leaning toward Xenocratia cannot be Cephisus, and, as we have seen, he does not have to be a kourotrophic divinity, and the meaning of cannot be “upbringing.” As mentioned above, it has been proposed that the figure bending toward the humans has something to do with Xeniades’s education,85 but previous scholars have neglected to note how emphatically Xenocratia’s role in this education is emphasized by the gestures on the relief and the appropriateness of rather than as the term for general education of children. In contrast to the general education and upbringing implied by (“rearing of a child,” “training and teaching, education,” “mental culture,” “art, science”) a

XENOCRATIA 25

Figure 2. Relief portraying Cephisus, Ath. NM 1783: photo by Jenny Strauss Clay. Reprinted by permission.

more specific kind of instruction or lesson is usually expressed in (“teaching, instruction,” “lesson,” “elucidation,” “official instruction”).86


Mothers played an important role in their children’s education until about the age of seven and even later, especially if the family could not afford education outside the home.87 Thus Xenocratia may have attributed to a divinity a certain knowledge or skill that she learned or perhaps acquired in a way that seemed miraculous to her and passed on to her son. If we assume that the sculptor followed Xenocratia’s specific instructions, we can interpret the small stature of the child as an indication that the training began at an early age. The child’s growth and maturity are attributed to Cephisus and perhaps other kourotrophic deities, and the dedication of Xeniades’s hair to the river was probably the occasion for the dedication of the shrine. But the emphasis on instruction suggests that Xenocratia is thankful not only for Xeniades’s health and survival but also for a perhaps unexpected achievement by him which was accomplished by training and coincident with his arrival at maturity. That she is thankful only for sufficient wealth to send her son to school is contradicted by the iconography, which suggests a more personal transaction between god and mortal. The absence of clear attributes prevents a certain identification of the figure responsible for . Besides Chiron, who must be discounted because he always appears with at least part of a horse’s body,88 Hermes is the male deity most frequently associated with education; both are connected with written works that appear on classroom papyrus rolls depicted on Attic vases.89 A youthful beardless Hermes along with Heracles were patrons of the gymnasium beginning in the fourth century,90 but Hermes also presides over music, oratory, and literature earlier, as is evident in the sixth- or fifth-century B.C. Homeric Hymn to Hermes. State cults, as Farnell says, “generally lag behind individual beliefs”; and Hermes’s cultural interests were prominent long before they were expressed explicitly in the Roman period,91 with Hermes’s epithet and his strong interest in education,92 as is apparent from Plato’s Cratylus.93 A further link to children in the Classical period is provided by the image of Hermes carrying the infant Dionysus, a popular motif on vase paintings of the fifth century.94 The qualities and myths surrounding Hermes thus make him a fitting donor of instruction; but the iconography of the god without any of his usual attributes— staff, hat, chlamys, winged shoes, or wings on his head— makes the identification unlikely. The figure conversing with Xenocratia does not hold any objects in his hands: his right hand is occupied by the gesture discussed above, and both hands are superimposed on folds of garments, over which there could be painted no substantial object. The figure behind Xenocratia wears a chlamys, probably held a (painted) staff, and has been identified plausibly as Hermes acting as mediator between human and divinity.95 As mentioned above, Hermes appears on one of the other reliefs found at the shrine, and with the nymphs receives the other relief as a dedication. It is possible that he received sacrifice at an altar other than the one supported by the stele discussed above. His role in the is symbolized perhaps by his position standing behind and towering

XENOCRATIA 27

over Xenocratia, but he is not the god portrayed communicating directly with her. Further clues may be gleaned by exploration of another common meaning of : training or production of a chorus. The verbal form, is used in inscriptions by authors and producers of victorious dramas in Athens and the demes, although by the fourth century, the noun could refer to someone the poet hired to train the chorus.96 But often in the Classical period, authors who produced their plays in person were said to have taught the chorus and actors and are distinguished from the choregoi who financed the production.97 B.Stais, the first editor of Xenocratia’s inscription, interpreted the word in this sense, but with an unlikely hypothesis that the scene takes place at Delphi and commemorates the production of Euripides’s lon, with the child lon, the Pythia, and Xuthus in the foreground of the relief.98 Stais himself admitted the difficulty of accounting for Xenocratia’s role, and later critics pointed out that the production of the play was too early to be commemorated by this relief, and that it is unlikely that Xuthus would be so much larger than the Pythia.99 There are, however other reasons why the interpretation of as training of poetic performers is worth reconsidering: 1. The appearance of the divinity communicating with the humans on the relief. 2. That this divinity rests his foot upon a platform (bema). 3. The probability that a boy just entering adulthood would participate in a musical or poetic contest. 1. As mentioned above, the figure facing Xenocratia wears a himation and on some photographs an animal skin draped over his left arm is visible.100 The paint that may have delineated the features of the animal skin has long faded, but would have aided ancient observers of the relief in identifying the figure. Dionysus is a possible candidate for a youthful male divinity wearing an animal skin and associated with training in performance. Representations of a youthful and beardless Dionysus, often with the animal skin (which was carried over from Archaic representations of the bearded Dionysus) begin ca. 440–430101 and the description in Euripides’s Bacchae confirms this image in late fifth-century myth. In most of these images he wears long hair and carries a thyrsus, but there are two possible exceptions. The earliest is the reclining figure on the east pediment of the Parthenon, sometimes claimed to be Heracles rather than Dionysus.102 Secondly, a relief from the Piraeus of ca. 400, depicts three actors holding masks on the left and a reclining male figure with “Dionysus” in third-century letters inscribed above him; a female wearing a nebris sits on the end of the couch.103 This beardless and short-haired “Dionysus” wears a band around his head and a himation around his lower body, resembling the figure conversing with Xenocratia in his appearance. Most scholars regard the reclining figure as Dionysus, despite the gap in time between the sculpture and the inscription.104 The figure holds a rhyton and a phiale as do heroes on other monuments, and one


of the earliest discussions of the relief suggested that he is the hero Acratus or Acratopotes.105 Acratus is mentioned by Pausanias as a daimon represented in the form of a mask in the temenos of Dionysus Melpomenus near the Dipylon gate in Athens. Polemon says that Acratopotes is honored in Munychia; he may be the same divinity or related to Acratus.106 Niall Slater more cautiously proposes that the figure on the Piraeus relief is an otherwise unknown hero worshipped by actors whose collective dedication prefigured and was adapted by the later religious organization of the Artists of Dionysus.107 It is likely that the figure on Xenocratia’s relief represents, if not Dionysus, the same or a similar hero who presided over performances of drama or poetry. The exact identity of the figure depends on local and personal factors that preclude certainty. The local character of the sanctuary suggests that the figure represents a local hero, but the following, admittedly ambiguous, evidence suggests that Dionysus should not be excluded as a possibility. Dionysus is associated with the phratry only very tenuously, through a myth explaining the name of the phratry festival, Apaturia, from the deception, , of Xanthus by Dionysus. The myth was probably largely unknown at the time of our relief,108 and thus cannot be used to support a strong link between Dionysus and rites of passage. J.Winkler argues that participation in dramatic choruses was an important part of ephebic education, while admitting that very few youths had the opportunity to perform.109 Even if this participation did help to instill public values in youths, there is no reason to think that private individuals such as Xenocratia recognized a connection between the patron of drama and youths. Dionysus’s association with children or young men is not obvious, although he, like Hermes, appears in some myths as a child, and vase paintings show him in infancy, held by Hermes or nymphs and being entrusted to Zeus or Silenus. His receivers sometimes bear Dionysus’s attributes—animal skin, thyrsus, and ivyleaf crown.110 The association between Dionysus and childhood deserves further investigation, but at this point it is safer to suppose that the figure in the relief has more to do with poetic training and production than patronage of children or ephebes. 2. The rectangular block on which the divinity places his right foot, often assumed to be an altar,111 may better be understood as a bema used as a platform for performers—actors, rhapsodes, or orators. Although vase paintings sometimes portray suppliants sitting or standing on an altar as a place of refuge,112 the act of setting one foot upon it by a divinity or a mortal who is not seeking asylum is perhaps impious and also obscures the function of the altar, which is often identifiable and quite visible on reliefs by typical ornaments such as volutes or an indication of sacrifice, such as a fire, offerings, or a procession.113 This gesture does, however occur in the context of choral performance. A vase painting illustrating actors and chorus members in a satyr play, relaxing, not acting, and featuring Dionysus and Ariadne seated in their midst, portrays one of the chorus members conversing with another and resting his foot on a bema the same shape and size as the one in Xenocratia’s relief.114 Various shapes and sizes of platforms

XENOCRATIA 29

appear on Classical vase paintings and act as a stage or podium for musicians115 or in others of scenes of actors or chorus members to signify the environment of the stage.116 3. Among the possible occasions on which Xeniades could have won a victory in a poetic or musical competition, public contests come to mind first. Could Xenocratia’s dedication have commemorated a choral victory connected with her son? Boys did participate in dithyrambic contests. Inscriptions record victors in boys’ dithyrambic competitions,117 and a classical kylix portrays two boys thought to be victors in a dithyrambic contest approaching a herm of Dionysus next to an altar.118 Perhaps the gesture of the god on the relief is meant to represent the training that made the victory possible, and the gesture of the humans, their reception of as well as gratitude for the training that led to the victory. Another possibility is that the contest took place in the context of Xeniades’s coming of age ceremonies. Although the hair dedication to Cephisus did not necessarily take place at the Apaturia, as noted above, it may have been conducted as a private ceremony around the same time. Plato’s Timaeus 21b attests to a poetry recitation competition between the young men being introduced to the phratry at the Apaturia. Xeniades may have dedicated his hair to Cephisus and won this contest on the same day. The contest, however, may have been a less well-known or public occasion, perhaps of strictly local or family interest. Mothers often participated in education of their children, and poetry must have played a large part in their training both at home and in public schools. Xenocratia may have trained her son in poetry recitation, and regarded herself as an intermediary: this training was god-sent and her son’s success was extraordinary enough to emphasize in her dedication. Success in performance is obviously contingent on survival and health. The foundation of the shrine was motivated partly by a victory of Xeniades as a performer, but Cephisus has precedence in the dedication because he is associated with the growth of boys to manhood and to him was probably due the fulfillment of a vow by Xenocratia. Cephisus is the chief god of the shrine who has made possible the gift of to Xenocratia and Xeniades. Xeniades dedi cated his hair to Cephisus at about the same time he successfully performed at the Apaturia or in some other contest for which his mother helped him prepare. Xeniades won this contest (whether by himself or as a member of a chorus), and thus Xenocratia had two reasons to thank the gods: the survival of her son and the excellence of his performance. Xenocratia, then, perhaps viewed Xeniades’s victory as a result of her training, which she attributed to a divinity, probably a local hero. It is this divinity who is portrayed on the relief. He plants his foot on a bema to indicate his role as divinity of performance. Xeniades must have stood on a similar bema when he gave his winning performance. Xenocratia’s identity and circumstances have been the object of conjecture nearly as often as have her motives in founding the shrine. The relationship between Cephisodotus and Xenocratia is likewise unknown. But it is worth


noting that Xenocratia omits the name of her husband, the boy’s father. The customary formula in dedications by women give the woman’s name followed by the name of her husband and/or father in the genitive, with the demotic agreeing in case with the male’s name.119 Xenocratia’s mention of her son as well as the exclusion of her husband ought to be significant. Cephisodotus’s contemporary relief and inscription together with the possible allusion to his name in Xenocratia’s inscription, … , suggest that he may be her husband.120 He says that he “dedicated the altar, too,” and we can assume that he meant the altar in addition to the relief, and, as noted above, that he too founded the shrine, in conjunction with Xenocratia. The couple may have thought the set of reliefs and the allusion to Cephisodotus in the inscription a sufficient record of their relationship in a small and informal shrine.121 Whatever Cephisodotus’s role in the foundation of the shrine was, the inscriptions explicitly identify Xenocratia as its founder, thus suggesting purchase of property by an Athenian woman without mention of a guardian. Kron suggests that she is an epikleros, that is, sole heir to her father’s estate, since most scholars believe that a woman could own land only as an intermediary, and by gift or inheritance.122 Xenocratia’s case should be considered as a possible exception or at least one which ostensibly presents a woman independently transacting a large contract without mention of a . Contradictions to this assumed law and the fluidity of the concept of ownership within the oikos have been the object of recent studies on property and gender.123 Xenocratia’s case should be included; she may have made the decision to buy and dedicate this property, but needed no guardian because the property in effect would pass to her son, although technically belonging to the gods. While women often appear with their families in reliefs and dedicatory inscriptions,124 Xenocratia’s assertion to have founded a shrine is a rare surviving example of what Plato claimed occurred often. If the hypothesis put forth here is correct, Cephisodotus was perhaps unusual in allowing his wife to claim credit for a foundation in which he participated. Although the founders are from other demes, their establishment of a shrine to the River Cephisus at the very mouth of that river suggests that they had interests in that region as well as in that god, perhaps because Phaleron was their residence. The dedication of the shrine helped to secure a favorable and stable relationship with local divinities, and no doubt with local residents who visited the shrine, while it commemorated and celebrated the personal gratitude and prayers of the founders.

CHAPTER 3 Archedamus of Thera

Caves dedicated to nature deities often yield inscriptions by private individuals, and occasionally an individual claims to have worked on the cave, as did Pantalces at the cave near Pharsalus. The method employed for this type project differs from that of shrines such as Xenocratia’s in that decoration of a cave need not entail financial investment. And it is technically impossible to “found” a cave cult to nymphs who are thought to dwell in the cave already. The land of some caves was probably not actively controlled by political units1 nor owned by individuals, and the shelter of the divinities was already provided by the landscape, so that no purchase beyond tools for carving was needed. Cave cults thus provided the less affluent with a means to religious initiative. In the fifth century B.C., an otherwise unknown Archedamus of Thera worked on a cave dedicated to the nymphs on Mount Hymettus near Vari, which may have served as a place of worship before he arrived there.2 Like Xenocratia and Pantalces, he recorded his contribution in inscriptions, one of which suggests that he too was thankful for some kind of divine advice or interaction. His reasons for honoring the local nymphs were somewhat similar to Pantalces’s, but could not have been the same as those of Xenocratia, who probably included the nymphs in her cult as daughters of the river god and for their kourotrophic functions. As local divinities, they helped nurture her son and thus received Xenocratia’s thanks, but her relief indicates that a male deity had given her advice. Archedamus, on the other hand, was an outsider, who probably did not experience these nymphs’ kourotrophic functions.3 It is not surprising that a foreigner should dwell in Attica at this time, nor, given metics’ restrictions from participation in most state sacrifices,4 that he would attempt to set up his own arrangements for worship. But it is less obvious why anyone who stresses his identity as an outsider would claim a special attachment to local divinities as does Archedamus: he tells us that he “worked out the cave on the advice of the nymphs,” and calls himself nympholeptos, “seized by the nymphs.”5 COSMOPOLITAN GIFTS Archedamus’s cult provides evidence that private religious activity was an important means of adaptation for immigrants and permits us to observe a


melding of diverse cultural influences as they manifest themselves in written and visual remains of the cult. The personal interest that the nymphs had in Archedamus implies his integration into his new surroundings: the land itself, through its indigenous divinities, has welcomed him as its own. On the other hand, the insistently repeated references to his Theraean origin in connection with his devotion to the nymphs suggest that his foreign origin is somehow important in his relationship with the nymphs or in his work at the cave. Archedamus repeatedly draws attention to his non-Attic origin, calling himself “the Theraean” on four of the six inscriptions bearing his name and in conspicuous areas of the cave. There is no evidence to suggest politically significant ties between Thera and Attica at this time,6 and thus his motives were probably not politically symbolic. In Doric dialect (with alpha for eta) and a combination of Archaic Attic and Classical Theraean script, Archedamus carved his name within the cave’s entrance: .7 This inscription is carved “in the living rock near the edge of the first landing,” and thus greets the visitor to the cave.8 The steps on which it is located were most likely carved or improved by the labors of Archedamus. Why does Archedamus repeatedly state his Theraean origin? He may have viewed his relationship with the nymphs as that of an outsider to local divinities. The Odyssey attests to the nymphs’ role in providing water from their springs and shade from their caves to those in need of them, including travellers. A spring near the village on Ithaca provides citizens with water; it is surrounded by a grove with cool water flowing down from the rocks. “And above was built an altar of the nymphs, where all travellers offered sacrifice”: .9 The nymphs were thus known to provide refuge or refreshment to local inhabitants as well as wanderers who offered sacrifices in return, and Archedamus may have considered their cave and spring at Vari a sign of the local nymphs’ welcome of himself, originally as a traveller and stranger to the region. Archedamus’s conception of Theraean cults also may have something to do with his emphasis on his origin, as well as with the type of place he created for worship. On Thera, each of the Dorian tribes worshipped nymphs they considered their own: fourth-century inscriptions record “ of (the tribe of) Hylleis,” with a prohibition against carrying away sacrificial offerings10 and “ of (the tribe of) Dymaneis” who received offerings of hair.11 It is uncertain whether these are dedications to individual nymphs in the dative singular or markers of the sacrificial sites of nymphs designated by the nominative plural, as is common at shrines and altars of some divinities on Thera. On Thera as well as in its colony, Cyrene, inscrip tions of gods’ names cut into the natural rock identified places of worship,12 apparently in lieu of more elaborate shrines or temples. These inscriptions of the Theraean nymphs as well as the names of other divinities were found in front of the temple of Apollo Carneus, the chief state deity, carved into a wall of rectangular stones interspersed with cavities that received offerings and probably reflect a tradition observed before

ARCHEDAMUS OF THERA

33

the fourth century.13 Archedamus must have worshipped the nymphs of his tribe on Thera, but left them behind when he came to Attica. It is not surprising, then, that he would want to worship nymphs in his new home, and in the tradition of his native land. A cave near Thera’s west coast at Oia is thought to have been dedicated to a nymph or the nymphs and the origin of a lost (probably post-Classical) inscription reading .14 The cave received some man-made alterations in the form of stone paving and plaster and numerous niches cut into the walls.15 The cave at Vari also contains a man-made wall and walkway that were reinforced and covered with crystalline pebbles, as well as niches. The function of the paving in the Vari cave was to provide access to the steepest part of the cave and a small uninscribed shrine.16 Although some of these constructions may have been built after Archedamus’s time, his inscriptions suggest that he was responsible for many of the cave’s modifications, and therefore he may have brought to Attica Theraean methods of adapting caves for worship. Thera in the Classical period also bears considerable evidence for initiative of private individuals in cults, attested by altar dedications and donation of funds or land for sacrifices, and the state played a minimal role in cults, except for that of Apollo Carneus.17 Archedamus’s contribution to Attic religion thus could have been an adaptation of what he knew on Thera. It is impossible, however, that he thought he could transfer the Theraean nymphs to Attica or establish a new branch of their cult there. Nymphs and all divinities of nature are closely tied to their specific location; they cannot be transferred to another place because their function is to protect their place. The nymphs honored by Archedamus are bound to Mount Hymettus, and the mutual favor between them and Archedamus the Theraean may derive not only from their function as hostesses to travellers, but also from Archedamus’s notion that they would welcome and enjoy what he could bring them from Thera—infusion of new cultural influences, forms of praise that seemed exotic to them and that could add to their honor and enjoyment of worship. These new forms of enjoyment probably did not deprive the nymphs of traditional sacrifices, but rather added to tradition some embellishments reflecting non-Attic culture. Theraean garments were popular imports into Attica during the fifth century,18 and it is possible that Archedamus dedicated and made available for others to dedicate these to the local nymphs. Archedamus was not unique in his decision to worship local nymphs in a new residence far from his home. On fourth-century Paros, Adamas the Odrysian of Thrace dedicated to the nymphs a relief carved into the wall of a cave located in the vestibule of a quarry; an unexcavated area to the right is filled with debris and may conceal evidence of cult. The inscription below the relief has been dated by Berranger to the first half of the fourth century, and by Raubitschek to the third quarter of the century. It reads, .19 It is uncertain whether Adamas was the first or only worshipper to honor the nymphs here, but like Archedamus, he seems to combine traditions of his homeland with


local influences to please the divinities. Adamas’s identification of himself as an Odrysian and his dedication in Greek show that he has retained a Thracian identity while adapting to Greek culture, and he illustrates his adaptation by the style and combination of deities on the relief. The relief is set into an uneven frame simulating the opening of a cave, divided into two levels of divinities, the lower level nearly twice as high as the upper, and with a group of worshippers below and to the right. There has been much discussion concerning the identity of the some twenty divinities crowded together on the relief, including large heads which fill in spaces around the bodies of the goddesses in the lower register. Thracian Bendis20 stands beside nymphs and other divinities, generally assumed to be Greek. A seated female figure is thought to be a mother goddess, perhaps Demeter or Cybele.21 The girl next to this goddess may be Core, and Berranger and Bodnar have thus proposed that the seated figure is Demeter, an important state deity on Paros.22 The nymphs are evidently the three female figures in the center, also the largest on the relief. Berranger has pointed out that this relief differs somewhat in style and composition from contemporary iconography elsewhere in the Greek world, including on Thasos, where we would expect Hellenic and Thracian influences to converge.23 The disparity is most evident in the portrayal of the gods, especially in the workmanship and the use of disembodied heads to fill in spaces. The uses of multiple registers and detached heads appear in Thracian art,24 suggesting that Adamas may have imported Thracian cultural elements for the pleasure of the divinities in his new home, to whom he also introduces Bendis, his native goddess. The frame of a cave and the inclusion of worshippers, however, is not unusual in the Greek world. To the right of the deities and set slightly back and down an incline as though on yet another register is a group of eleven votaries, who are about twothirds the size of the deities. They face the gods with raised hands; one figure kneels. An elderly bearded man stands in front of them with a child, and men, women and children stand behind him. The similarity of Adamas’s relief to Greek reliefs in the relative positions of gods and humans suggests Greek influence, since numerous fourth-century Greek reliefs portray worshippers praying to the nymphs and other deities.25 Adamas may have been familiar with Parian traditions through contact with Thasians, colonists of Paros who held land and mines in Thrace.26 The presence of Greeks in Thrace and the resulting blend of Greek and Thracian culture there27 point to the possibility that Adamas had assimilated Greek culture to his own before arriving on Paros, and yet this relief indicates that he deliberately refrained from eliminating all traces of his origin in his dedication. The relief of Adamas provides a parallel to Archedamus’s dedications as an example of an immigrant’s religious activity in the outskirts of a Greek city and indicates that an immigrant could bring his native divinities and cultural traditions to his worship of deities in a new land. The combination of local and non-local conventions in evidence of worship may represent the outsider’s adaptation to his new home together with a tenacious

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pride in his origin. And the local divinities were evidently expected to enjoy this blend of cultural elements. Exotic aspects of Archedamus’s contribution to the nymphs have survived in his inscriptions, which also reveal his conception of his role as a Theraean “founder” of the cult. The inscriptions containing Archedamus’s name vary in both letterforms and orthography.28 Editors note that some of the letters are Theraean and assume that the inscriptions date from the second half of the fifth century, but refrain from claiming this date with certitude.29 At this time there were probably several variations among letterforms on Thera: Attic and lonic forms were introduced and used sporadically, while old Theraean letters appear side by side with new ones, but there are too few extant inscriptions to reconstruct when and how widely the new letters were used at first.30 Chi, for example, was written X31 or KH, and rho was written P in an earlier period, but R in the early fifth century.32 While Theraean script represents the double consonant ks as a V with a vertical line drawn through the center,33 Archedamus uses+S in IG I3 977b, but the lonic form in IG I3 980. In Attic and Athenian inscriptions, mixture of Attic and lonic script is attested especially in the second half of the fifth century and in private inscriptions.34 Earlier metrical inscriptions, perhaps reflecting literary influence, contain lonic forms interspersed with Attic dialect; for example, an early fifth-century dedication which echoes a motive stated by Archedamus, the advice of a divinity, contains as well as .35 Beginning ca. 490, lonic appears on inscriptions by foreigners in Athens, and also next to Attic script on vases, sometimes with two different forms of the same letter on one vase.36 Toward the end of the fifth century, lonic forms are used more and more often by native Athenians, leading the editors of Archedamus’s inscriptions to date those in lonic dialect tentatively to the late fifth century, while assuming that the others are earlier. The dating presupposes that the inscriber strives for consistency and writes in the script with which he is most familiar. But this warrant is not necessarily valid, especially in view of the inscriptions associated with Archedamus. Archedamus uses in his inscriptions two forms of eta, lambda, nu, xi, rho, upsilon, chi, and the breathing mark, and three forms of sigma. These variations occur among different inscriptions, but not within the same inscription.37 The dialects (Doric, Attic, and lonic), on the other hand, are often mixed within the same inscription. While the evidence shows that diversity in letterforms and dialect is not entirely anomalous even for authors of inscriptions who have not migrated, in the case of Archedamus it does appear somewhat extreme. Was it a deliberate attempt to please the nymphs with exotic or diverse language? This type of offering may be related to the use of multiple epithets: the more ways in which one can express the divinity’s attributes, the more one can increase the divinity’s honor. The Homeric Hymn to Delian Apollo suggests this motive for variations in dialect. At the festival honoring Apollo, Artemis, and Leto, the Delian maidens “know how to imitate the voices and babbling of all humans; and each man would say that he himself is speaking” (


38

162–64). Listening to different voices, that is, dialects, was pleasing to both gods and humans.39 It is likely that votaries ceremonially recited their dedications when they set up their offerings; the original act of dedication was immortalized in writing, and readers could later admire and reenact the honor to the god as they read the dedication.40 Archedamus expected that his inscriptions would be read out loud and wrote them in different dialects and scripts not only so that visitors from various districts could understand them, but also so that the divinities and their worshippers could enjoy the sound. Further, diversity in the inscriptions’ language and script implies that the shrine will welcome visitors of various origins and thus grants the divinities honored there a Panhellenic status. At the same time, Archedamus implies his own cosmopolitan status by varying the spellings of his name and indicating his foreign origin. The nymphs thus transcend their previous local limitations through their new devotee. Another possible explanation for the inconsistencies is that not all inscriptions with Archedamus’s name were written by him. One inscription in particular has been cited as evidence. On the wall of the cave to the left of the entrance Archedamus records his motives as well as his accomplishment in almost entirely lonic script and dialect:

Archedamus the Theraean, the nympholept, worked to completion the cave by the advice of the nymphs.41 This inscription differs most from the rest in dialect and script, employing variations of and omission of breathing marks; one Attic (but also Doric) characteristic is the use of omicron for omega, while the second of is derived from Doric script. Both this inscription and the double occurrence of Archedamus’s name beside a relief of his image (see below) use H (eta) in the third syllable of Archedamus’s name, an lonic (or later Attic) usage, while the others use the Doric alpha. Another difference is that this inscription may be more metrical than the others; the second half has been read as an iambic trimeter.42 Dunham suggests that the inscriptions were carved over a period of years, or that Archedamus’s foreign origin and “archaizing proclivity” may be the cause.43 It is possible, however that both his foreign background and a prolonged residence in Attica contributed to his awareness of variant scripts and

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dialects, and that he applied them to his inscriptions to the greater glory of the nymphs as he became more familiar with them. N.Himmelmann-Wildschütz proposed that later visitors to the shrine carved both an image of Archedamus (in figure 3, to be discussed below) and this inscription, honoring him as a founder, , and elevating him to nearly mythical status with the epithet, “nympholeptos.”44 HimmelmannWildschütz suggested that the metrical inscription of Pantalces concerning the cave cult in Pharsalus, discussed in the previous chapter, should also be attributed to a later hand, and he has been followed by Decourt, the latest editor of Pantalces’s inscriptions.45 The claims that Archedamus obtained advice from the nymphs and was “seized” by them, and that Pantalces, although not described as a nympholept, received divine assistance in constructing the shrine and the gifts of health, prosperity, and happiness from the gods were not, according to Himmelmann-Wildschutz, made by these men themselves. The basis for this interpretation is (if we discount the obviously latent skepticism that these experiences were real to these worshippers, or, in modern terms, “lack of faith”) the overall dissimilarity between the short and the more elaborate inscriptions mentioning the same person at the same cave; both caves have yielded quite simple dedicatory inscriptions containing the “founder’s” name and other more extensive metrical inscriptions that imply his contact with divinities in poetic language and variation in scripts, apparently carved with greater care. As I have shown above, inconsistency in script is well attested elsewhere, and variance of dialect and metrical form may serve religious aims. It is also possible that the inscriptions were carved at different times and even by different hands, but with the same dedicator responsible, who chose to compose and inscribe one in greater haste, identifying himself as the consecrator of his new cult site or objects at the dedication ceremony, and another more elaborate one later, perhaps with the aid of a professional poet and engraver. As the sanctuary expanded with further work by the “founder,” it is conceivable that he would erect new inscriptions of an ornamental nature, elaborating on the original dedication for the delight of the divinities as well as the visitors. Assumptions about nympholepsy and how communication with divinities is experienced and expressed also underlie the interpretation of HimmelmannWildschütz. Although he does discuss reliefs portraying their human dedicators interacting with divinities, he seems to assume that dedi cators would not express this or similar interaction in words. But as we have seen in the cult founded by Xenocratia, it is quite probable that a founder of a shrine would erect more than one inscription and that one, but not all, would mention motives connected with divine intervention or interaction with humans. Philippe Borgeaud augments Himmelmann-Wildschütz’s interpretation, asserting that the “trance” and “frenzy” of nympholepsy would prevent a nympholept from identifying himself as such.46 But the logic of this view of nympholepsy would deny the nympholept also the ability to plant a garden and decorate a cave. Archedamus’s conception of nympholepsy will be considered in greater depth


Figure 3. Portrait of Archedamus with table: sketch from Curtius and Kaupert, Atlas von Athen, AJA 7 (1903) 271, fig., 6 (enlarged). Reprinted by permission.

after we survey what he did under its influence; suffice it to say for now that if he had the presence of mind to carve inscriptions and decorate a cave, he could also call himself a nympholept. I shall assume, then, that Archedamus did carve the inscriptions bearing his name, including those in lonic script. His self-portrait (figure 3) is particularly revealing of his conception of himself as the decorator of the cave. The repetition of Archedamus’s name in lonic letters and without indication of his origin is 47 carved into the wall of the inner part of the cave, next to a relief of a man, obviously Archedamus, who bears a tool in each hand. Beside the relief is a table with two depressions, perhaps receptacles for : EP O.48 Apollo’s offerings, whose ledge once bore an inscription, name, like Archedamus’s, is carved in lonic dialect ( rather than Attic/Theraean O). The inscription has been lost, and the interpretation of the second word has varied but was recorded most often as EP O, “Of (H)ersos,” perhaps an epithet of Apollo.49 Apollo “of the Dew” may have been worshipped here, at the lowest

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level of the cave, where water dripped down from above. The table was sculpted before the inscription of Archedamus’s name, and was cut away slightly along the upper left to accommodate the sigma of his name.50 The inscription was thus most likely carved by Archedamus, who naturally provided Apollo with a table before asserting his responsibility for it. In front of this table there is a shorter and narrower table or bench divided in half by a raised partition. Although cult tables were probably used on Thera as elsewhere, none have been found there, perhaps because they had been made of wood. Thus it is difficult to say how innovative or Theraean this table is, but its bi-level structure and creation from the living rock is unparalleled in extant tables.51 The function of the lower level is difficult to explain; it seems to hinder comfortable access to the upper table. It may have been inspired by the natural rock formation, as perhaps was the case too for the depressions on the upper table, formed by constant dripping of water. It is possible that at least part of the “advice” given to Archedamus by the nymphs was the structure of the cave in its natural state, to which he applied his imagination, incited by piety and awareness of divine presence. In addition, he had probably seen similar shrines on Thera, in which rock surfaces were modified to form a regular flat indentation serving the same function as a table: Archaic inscriptions mostly of Zeus’s name occur above or below circular or square depressions about one foot wide carved into the rocks in front of the temple of Apollo in Thera.52 Archedamus’s upper level table is larger than these,53 but may derive from the Theraean custom of augmenting a recess in the rock by carving out regular edges, and designating the name of the god above or below it to encourage offerings. The presence of two small recesses in Archedamus’s upper table in addition to a second lower table divided into two halves raises the possibility that the second name on the table refers to another divinity rather than an epithet of Apollo. The doubling of tables and the presence of two names on them is mirrored in the repetition of Archedamus’s name. William Gell, who visited this cave in 1805, suggested that the second word was meant to be a genitive, designating the name of Archedamus’s father.54 The inscriptions of Theraean names do confirm the custom of naming a son after his father in the Roman period.55 The father’s name is omitted on Archaic and Classical inscriptions, but graffiti in all periods contain names listed in vertical sequence. The error of writing the nominative for the genitive is, however unparalleled. The repetition of Archedamus’s name may therefore be deliberate and have some sort of religious significance here. If the tables did in fact belong to two gods, Archedamus may have recited his dedication out loud, speaking his name with each of the divinities’ names separately: “Archedamus dedicates the tables of Apollo. Archedamus dedicates the tables of (Hersos?).” The placement of Apollo’s shrine next to Archedamus’s name and image, and in the same dialect, establishes an implicit link between them. On Thera, Apollo was worshipped as the chief god of the island, without epithet as well as with the epithets Delphinius, Lycius, and Carneus.56 A cave at one end of the “Agora of


the Gods” on Thera may have served as a shrine of Apollo at an early period, but has left no traces of his worship there.57 Apollo is associated with water and caves elsewhere,58 but the closest parallel to Archedamus’s cult is the spring of Apollo at Cyrene, Thera’s colony. Archedamus probably knew of this cult and its foundation legends: it is mentioned by both Herodotus and Pindar, who refers to the spring as the site of symposia: .59 In Herodotus’s account, it is the site in Cyrene to which the colonists were first led by the Libyans and promised sufficient rain: .60 The temple of Apollo in Cyrene was built soon after Cyrene’s colonization, apparently as an extension of an already sacred spring and cave. Pindar says that the oikist Battus “founded greater groves of gods” in Cyrene: , implying that he both expanded and made more significant already existing native cults.61 Excavations in Cyrene have uncovered the remains of a huge temple of Apollo dated to the late seventh or early sixth century near a spring and cave, and it is likely that the colonists found evidence of worship here and expanded the place with the construction of a temple to the most important state god of their mother city.62 Since the foundation was discussed or mentioned even in fifth-century nonTheraean sources, it is highly likely that Archedamus knew of it, and may have conceived of himself as a lesser Battus, a “founder” without colonists who magnified a sacred cave and spring in his new land, recognizing Apollo at its inner and deepest chamber as the Cyrenaeans had recognized the god at the spring in Cyrene. The presence of Apollo here also recalls his role as the traditional giver of sanction to colonial as well as to cult foundations, as in Xenocratia’s cult. But his connection with water in both Theraean immigrant cults suggests a more specific significance. Another possible point of similarity between the cults of Apollo founded by Archedamus and the Cyrenaeans is that the Cyrenaean Apollo was also associated with a nymph, Cyrene, in the foundation myths of the city, although evidence for her cult does not appear until the Hellenistic period.63 The creativity displayed in Archedamus’s inscriptions and modifications of the landscape is also evident in the symbolism of what is apparently his selfportrait (figure 3). The carving of Archedamus and the repetition of his name beside it, together with the inscriptions claiming that he was responsible for the work, give the immediate impression that he was proud of the physical labor of his accomplishment, although the style and workmanship of these carvings are quite crude and not at all professional.64 His selfportrait shows him wearing a skirt-like garment that extends to just above his knees, suitable for physical labor. He lifts up a tool in each hand, a carpenter’s square and a hammer. S.Casson notes that this relief is the only extant sculpted image of a carpenter’s square, and that the hammer is a “trimming” or “dressing” hammer, not the type used with a chisel

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for the initial carving out of the stone: “it is remarkable to find it [the square] here classed apparently as of equal importance with the dressing hammer.”65 The square was normally used in the preparation for building, while the trimming hammer was employed for finishing touches. Gell observed that a square would not be necessary in this particular kind of work,66 and we should rather look for the symbolic significance in the image. Archedamus portrays himself holding tools that represent the beginning and the end of his project, as though to emphasize that he persisted in his divinely appointed task from start to finish. His identification with the Cyrenaean oikist is perhaps reinforced by the position of the square, flush with the edge of the table, as though this was the first monument that he carved in the shrine, in honor of the state god of Thera who manifests himself to immigrants as giver of moisture. The following inscriptions emphasize Archedamus’s accomplishments in honor of the nymphs together with his Theraean origin.67

These inscriptions were written on either side of a stone block whose original location is uncertain. The underlined letters of side B (figure 4) were read and recorded before the stone had been damaged.68 Since the stone was found near the entrance to the cave, it may have been set up outside.69 Side A, “Archedamus the Theraean planted a garden for the nymphs,” may refer to plants adorning the outside of the entrance, where they would certainly be easier to grow than inside the cave, and could attract attention of visitors. The excavators note that the cave and its entrance are now quite inconspicuous from the outside.70 It is likely that Archedamus considered the adornment of the outside of equal importance as his work on the inside of the cave, so as to increase its visibility to potential visitors as well as to honor the nymphs. Side B indicates that Archedamus the Theraean built to completion something for the nymph(s). The emendation given here will be discussed below, with suggestions for new interpretations. Both inscriptions must have been erected after Archedamus had put considerable work into the cave; the reference to the garden could hardly make sense unless the plants were flourishing, and the implication of completion in the aorist tense of the verb, , implies that the work was finished. Archedamus did not, therefore, cut these inscriptions until some time had elapsed from the inception of his project, and it


is therefore interesting to note that he still combines Doric, Attic, and lonic dialect and script and uses a different form of sigma on each inscription. My interpretation of Archedamus’s carved image together with his tendency to vary dialect and letter forms suggests a new interpretation of IG I3 977B. The stone reads:

I have printed the letters to indicate that Archedamus used the “tailed” rho and the three-bar sigma consistently in this inscription.71 There have been several suggestions for the problem of +O ONO +ES (lines 2–3). The first edition of the inscription identified Archedamus as a member of the deme, Cholleidae: .72 This suggestion is objectionable because of the obvious difference in the stone’s letters: does not resemble . It is also perhaps surprising that Archedamus would call himself a Theraean in the other inscriptions, but a Theraean and a member of this deme only here; there is, moreover, no evidence that he was ever awarded citizenship.73 Hiller at first , that is, Archedamus calls himself a “lame proposed dancer,”74 and then , “Archedamus, a dancer, built a dancing place.”75 Hoffmann suggested a similar reading, , “a place for the dance.”76 The latter two suggestions are attractive because they conform to the pattern of Archedamus’s other inscriptions: Subject—Direct Object (thing built or created)—Indirect Object Aorist Verb. But all three readings require that Archedamus carves the letter rho in three different forms on this one inscription, twice as “R,” once in the form of a lambda, and another time in the form of a delta. The readings are plausible in sense, especially since the excavators uncovered a raised area of packed soil that may have served as a dancing place.77 The epigraphical inconsistency within this inscription, however, is unparalleled in the other inscriptions. As noted above, Archedamus does not elsewhere write the same letter in two different forms on the same inscription. Nor does he, as far as we know, make mistakes in his other inscriptions or use these letter forms to represent rho. Connor has suggested (for , assuming metathesis of omicron and delta), a phrase describing Archedamus as “the receptacle of biles,” alluding to an inspired and manic state of mind, which Aristotle associates with an excess of bile.78 Two other possibilities, which are more consistent with the context of this inscription and dedicatory inscriptions in general should be considered here. One solution is to read the symbol+, which represents a chi in Archedamus’s name, as a rough breathing mark where it appears elsewhere in this inscription. Thus,

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Figure 4. Drawing of IG I3 977B: by Maurice Edwards Dunham, AJA 7 (1903) 297, no. 16 (enlarged). Reprinted by permission.


This interpretation also enhances the symbolism of Archedamus’s image, one man holding the two implements that represent the start and the completion of his work. And it demonstrates and may allude to his deliberate variations in script: Archedamus seems to be impressed by his own creativity and ability to express as well as to carry out his accomplishments all by himself and in a variety of ways. The emendation is consistent with his use of omicron for omega in most of his inscriptions (except for Apollo’s name), and employs the Theraean form for or the Attic .79 The same character designating aspiration may have been used in the first line in front of the definite article, as Dunham’s photo and drawing (see figure 4) reveal the bottom of one vertical line under the place where the stone has been chipped off, before the omicron. The symbol is omitted before the demonstrative adverb ’ perhaps because the aspiration was naturally less pronounced after the nasal, nu. The unique appearance of this symbol here is comparable to Archedamus’s other variations of script. In his other inscriptions, Archedamus uses the traditional Theraean H to represent the breathing mark, for example, on the inscription written on the other side of the same stone (side A), where he claims to have planted the garden. In the inscription that declares him a nympholept,80 he uses no indication of the breathing mark at all. The inconsistency between letter forms on the two inscriptions of this stone is also apparent in the use of four-bar sigma on side A and the three-bar sigma in this one (side B). Archedamus apparently used the symbol+either because he thought it was a breathing mark or in order to designate the sound of chi. A very similar symbol, H without the right vertical, signifies a breathing mark occasionally. The symbol is attested in sixth-century Epidaurus, fifth-century Tarentum, and on an Attic vase in the first half of the fifth century.81 It also occurs at Cumae, Elis, Sicyon, and at Heraclea, where a late fourth-century inscription displays lonic characteristics except for the use of digamma and this symbol,82 an interesting parallel to Archedamus’s mixture of dialect and letters. The form, H, to indicate both long e and aspiration on Thera and elsewhere must have caused confusion,83 encouraging the use of other symbols. Archedamus may have seen an aspiration sign and misread or misremembered it as the symbol+, perhaps due to a defect in the stone that added the appearance of a bar extending to the left. Another possibility is that he misinterpreted a chi for an aspiration sign in a before a script with which he was not entirely familiar, where+represented word beginning with an aspirated vowel. A vase inscription from mid-fifth-century

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Thespiae, for example, dedicates a kotylon to the donor’s wife, (“and so you, too, drink your fill”); the chi resembles+, although meant to represent the Western Greek cross-shaped X.84 On the other hand, Archedamus may have attempted to reproduce the variations in pronunciation and dialect he had heard at Thera, Attica, or elsewhere. The alternate uses of chi and aspiration signs to spell the same name on fifth-century Athenian inscriptions suggest that the sounds represented were similar in certain dialects. Four inscriptions of the Athenian tribute lists display the equation of the aspiration sign and chi in the spelling of the ethnic name of Athenian allies: two dated 44817 and 447/6 spell the name, ,85 while 86 two others of 435/4 and 433/2 record . Here the Athenians may attempt to represent an aspiration more pronounced than the Attic aspiration to reflect the sound spoken by foreigners.87 Archedamus may have done the same thing in his inscription, although which dialect he was trying to reproduce is a matter of conjecture, perhaps his own Theraean pronunciation, in contrast to a fainter aspiration in Attic.88 The combination of the Attic and Doric dialects in the reference to the nymph ( ) might be comparable to interchanges of and lonic on other fifth-century Attic inscriptions,89 but the proximity and close connection of the two uses here is striking, perhaps revealing a conscious attempt to stress the nymph’s Attic identity as honored by her most devoted worshipper, a Dorian. The second nu in is seen in other Classical Attic inscriptions and seems to be an Archaic convention.90 The reading suggested above creates a hexameter verse beginning after Archedamus’s name: . Archedamus uses poetic language throughout his inscriptions,91 and thus his use of this popular meter here fittingly the summary of his accomplishments. And the conclusion of a dedication with a hexameter verse is not uncommon elsewhere.92 A difficulty with the above interpretation is that Archedamus’s other inscriptions mention nymphs in the plural rather than in the singular. The ambiguity of the three Theraean inscriptions cited above ( : genitive singular or accusative plural?;93 dative singular or nominative plural?) prevents us from looking to his homeland for a certain solution. Nymphs honored as individuals are quite common at other sites,94 and the presence of a sculpted female figure within the cave (figure 5) may lend to the idea that Archedamus wished to honor one nymph in particular. The frequent association of bodies of water with single nymphs bearing names identifying the place, such as Cyrene,95 suggests that Archedamus may have singled out the nymph of the spring in the Vari cave as the chief recipient of his dedication, while also acknowledging her sisters in other inscriptions. Nevertheless, the following interpretation is one way to eliminate the inconsistency so that all the inscriptions refer to nymphs in the plural.


Archedamus the Theraean built to perfection even the whole (thing), which (you), nymphs, accept. Again, the symbol + represents rough breathing between KAI and O ON but not after vu in line two, although it is possible that , indicating a vocative interjection was meant. The use of tau where we would expect theta in line three may reflect pronunciation, that is, weak aspiration after the sigma, although parallels are lacking. This reading does not form a hexameter, but the interjection adds a poetic quality to the dedication as well as transforming it into a prayer: verse inscriptions, especially from the Archaic period, often request that a divinity accept a dedication.96 The dedicator addresses the god in the vocative and uses the imperative of , usually in a sepa rate clause either preceding or following the declaration of the offering, which can include the names of the dedicator and the divinity and the motive for dedication. A typical example comes from sixth-century Delphi, whose dedicator (of unknown origin), like Archedamus, uses a mixture of scripts: .97 In this interpretation of Archedamus’s inscription, the interruption of syntax by the address to the nymphs modifies the syntactical pattern visible in other inscriptions containing requests, where the imperative phrase is clearly separate from the dedication. Frequently, however, the god’s name in the vocative interrupts the syntax of dedicatory inscriptions briefly, for example: .98 This interjection provides a model for Archedamus’s more extensive hyperbaton, which he may have conceived as a way to heighten the emotional effect99 of the dedication and end with poetic rhythm. The placement of the verb at the end also reproduces the pattern of his other inscriptions which close with an aorist indicative verb. Archaic lyric and elegiac poems provide parallels with similar hyperbaton.100 In dedications on the Athenian Acropolis, the verb signifying dedication is more variable in its position than other elements of dedications.101 Here, its placement at the end of the inscription, with the address to the nymphs inserted between it and the dedicator’s name, seems to stress its sense of bringing a large project “enclosing” the nymphs entirely to completion.

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Figure 5. Seated figure in Vari Cave: photo by Charles Heald Weller, AJA 7 (1903) 268, fig. 4 (enlarged). Reprinted by permission.

ADDITIONAL “WORK” ON THE CAVE A few other structures and inscriptions found in the cave cannot be dated or attributed to Archedamus securely, but some are likely to be his work, if we


believe his claims. As mentioned above, throughout the cave were carved niches and depressions to receive votive offerings.102 At the inner lower part of the cave, across from the shrine of Apollo, is a smaller shrine of two small shelves next to a cavity in the rock that may have been a spring.103 The wall and walkway resembling the Theraean cave in their coating with small stones lead to this shrine. Near the entrance and facing inward is a nearly life-size figure seated on a throne upon a platform (figure 5). The head, which was made of a different material, is no longer extant, but traces of long hair carved onto the body suggest that the figure represented a female.104 The sculptor may have been Archedamus; the ill-proportioned limbs and crude treatment of the drapery have been compared to his self-portrait105 and contrast sharply with the skill evident in the fourth-century reliefs found in the cave. Of the several conjectures put forth regarding the figure’s identity, Connor’s attractively links the figure to an inscription: she is the nymph to whom IG I3 977B refers (if that interpretation is correct), and the proximity of this inscription, probably set up just outside the cave, made this identification obvious to visitors.106 To the side and raised up higher behind the figure is a larger ovoid shape carved from the surrounding rock, lacking its upper portion, perhaps a head.107 The object may be an omphalos, which sometimes appears on nymph reliefs,108 but its exact significance here is uncertain. Unlike omphaloi elsewhere, which seem to have served somehow in sacrificial ritual and had nets stretched over them,109 it is not set in a central area, and the traces of a head suggest that it may rather have been an anthropomorphic figure. Its inaccessibility in the corner of the cave makes it more likely to have functioned as a divine image than as an omphalos. During his visit in 1805, William Gell detected traces of an inscription below it, and he and the excavators assumed that it was a herm.110 The cave is divided into two unequal parts by a natural wall of rock. The larger section contains the monuments and inscriptions already discussed. The smaller room is much darker than the other,111 but was also modified for worship with steps and a shelf below which is inscribed on the wall of the cave.112 There is no proof that Archedamus carved the name, but the Archaic inscription of on a rock in the agora near the temple of Apollo on Thera shows that the Charites were worshipped in his native polis.113 Weller detected carving of hair on the sides of this shrine and proposed that the natural formation of the rock encouraged its dedication to Charis.114 A lion’s head carved on a protuberance of the rock wall a few feet away may have had the same inspiration.115 Across the room is a pit enclosed in a rectangular frame, probably a cistern.116 On the same side of the wall, midway between the shrine to Charis and the lion’s head, is an inscription that can be read as a cult regulation: : “Clean the intestines and wash away the waste (of the entrails) outside.”117 The letters are similar to Archedamus’s and the inscription has been dated to the second half of the fifth century. We can thus infer that animal sacrifice took place in the cave

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(accounting for at least some of the bones found by the excavators118), and that perhaps Archedamus saw to it that the place was kept clean. The inscribed regulation also implies that anyone, as in Xenocratia’s and Pantacles’s cults, was free to sacrifice without supervision of officials or the founder. At the back of this small room is a stalactite and further back and quite secluded, a natural spring.119 Across the room from the stalactite is a threshold carved out between the partition and a lower ledge of rock.120 It is possible that Archedamus carved this threshold, providing a circular path around the partition and easy access from the back of the cave to the spring. If so, his act of connecting the two sides of the cave would help justify his claims to have worked out “the whole” place. An inscription on a detached block found near the entrance declares in roughly carved Attic letters, : ho | | .121 The inscription shows that Archedamus, despite his claims, was not the only contributor to the cult: a goatherd (son of Scyron) may have dedicated an altar to the nymphs.122 If the dedication does not pre-date Archedamus’s arrival, it may reflect his success in encouraging worship of the nymphs.123 Shepherds who pastured their animals on Mount Hymettus evidently allowed an outsider to adorn the cave they had perhaps frequented earlier. While shepherds in general considered the nymphs and Pan their patron divinities, they are not known as cult founders, perhaps because of the expense, or, in the case of cave cults, the time required. They are rarely identified as the dedicators of lasting offerings, probably also for economic reasons.124 It is likely that the shepherds of Mount Hymettus had no objection to Archedamus’s activities in the cave, provided that he allowed them to use the cave for its shelter and water as well as for worship. Dedications of pottery and clay figurines in the cave, most of them of poor quality, began about 460, contemporary with or perhaps just prior to Archedamus’s arrival.125 Men as well as women honored the deities of the cave, to judge by the inscriptions on the vases and dedications of loutrophoroi, often associated with marriage.126 Fourth-century inscribed reliefs of the nymphs, Pan, and Hermes indicate that the shrine at that time too received a variety of worshippers, including wealthy Athenian citizens, and slaves and foreigners may have dedicated offerings from the fifth century on.127 The largest shrine in the cave, near the entrance and to the left, was dedicated to Pan and inscribed twice with his name in the genitive.128 This shrine may have held on its grooved floor a fourth-century relief of Pan. It and a nearby niche cut into the back of the steps were carved into the shape of a miniature temple facade.129 Pan is not attested on Thera, and Archedamus’s name appears nowhere near these shrines; it is uncertain whether they were constructed by Archedamus or other local worshippers, as shrines to Pan, often associated with other divinities and especially the nymphs, were set up throughout the fifth and fourth centuries in Attica.130 As mentioned above, a round raised area of densely packed stones in the cave has been interpreted as a dancing floor, since dances of and in honor of nymphs are attested elsewhere.131


Archedamus was probably not responsible for all this work in the cave, since worship there continued until the second century B.C. and was revived again in the fourth century A.D.132 As in the case of determining the date and builders of all the modifications in the cave, it is also difficult to ascertain the type of cult activities that occurred there, and whether Archedamus introduced them. In addition to dancing, healing, prophecy,133 and mysteries134 have been proposed. A few conclusions, however, are possible with regard to Archedamus’s work and his conception of himself as “founder.” He employed a variety of letterforms and dialects in his inscriptions, influenced not only by the multiplicity of those he had encountered before, but also by his own ingenuity. He evidently applied the same spirit of creativity to his script and verbal expression as he did to his energetic physical labors in the cave. Next, the variety of fifth- and fourthcentury finds shows that the “founder” or expander of the cult did not dictate according to his own motives the aspects of the divinities that other worshippers would honor. Nevertheless, we may infer that Archedamus made some decisions on his own. His assumption of responsibility for the cave and its nymphs included also the establishment of a cult to Apollo. On Thera, Apollo’s priesthood was hereditary and filled by a small group of aristocrats, a tradition that was imitated in the later testamentary foundations of the Hellenistic period.135 Archedamus may have lacked wealth and social status on Thera, but in Attica he was able to enjoy what must have seemed to him a privileged position as priest of Apollo, and one that resembled the role of the oikist of Cyrene. Finally, like other dedicators and founders of cult, he expresses a kind of pride that has been called “epigraphic egotism,”136 praising the divinities indirectly in the boast of his own accomplishments, but also in his adaptation of Theraean cults and diverse scripts and dialects to the cave on Mount Hymettus. His selfportrait together with his inscriptions are an assertion of his perseverance in and fulfillment of a project inspired by piety and by the nymphs themselves. NYMPHOLEPSY IN THE CLASSICAL PERIOD We have seen that Archedamus planted a garden and carved and decorated the cave in addition to inscribing rocks that recorded his activities; his work on the cave and contributions to a cult frequented by other worshippers in his time suggest that he was quite lucid rather than in a state of constant frenzy. Himmelmann-Wildschütz’s interpretation of Archedamus as a heroized founder is also contradicted by the absence of dedications to him, which might be indicated by his name in the genitive or dative on or near a statue, altar, or other offering. His name instead appears in the nominative beside his portrait as well as in his dedications. We have seen that the nominative is sometimes used to designate a god who receives offerings on Thera, but the context, for example, the names of human worshippers and the setting of sacrifice or offerings, eliminates ambiguity. In the Vari cave, the name of Apollo (and perhaps another god) appears in the genitive on a table next to Archedamus’s portrait, clearly

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revealing that the god is the object of worship here. Further, it is unlikely that monuments honoring a cult founder would not ever mention the name of the person(s) responsible for these monuments. There are no obvious dedications to Archedamus in the cave and therefore no evidence that he was heroized. Connor argues convincingly that nympholepsy “is not an illness or form of madness, but a state of heightened awareness and expression.”137 A “seizure” by the nymphs apparently enables one to succeed in any activity entailing communication and creativity that is aided by insight and good judgment, and it inspired Archedamus to enhance the cave’s accessibility and sacredness. Neglect of chronological distinctions in determining what Archedamus means by this word has sometimes led to the supposition that he suffered what we might consider unpleasant or frightening effects of this condition.138 The conception of dangerous nymphs is characteristic of the Hellenistic and Roman periods, beginning with Menander’s Dyskolos and appearing often in epitaphs, where children’s deaths are portrayed as seizure by nymphs.139 Earlier literature, on the other hand, reveals benevolent nymphs, such as the sea-nymph Thetis in the Iliad, whose touch comforts her son Achilles.140 The consideration of later sources in attempts to define nympholepsy is somewhat justified by the distribution of evidence; while it is mentioned sporadically throughout Hellenistic and Roman sources, Classical references to it are scarce. But what has survived suggests that nympholepsy of the Classical period was not such a frightening phenomenon as it was in later sources, but rather was associated with a sense of well-being or euphoria, a special understanding of and from the nymphs, and sometimes fluency of language. A possible record of nympholepsy occurs in an inscription from the Corycian cave near Delphi, but the obscure letters make interpretation difficult; all that is certain is that someone or something has been “taken,” , in connection with the nymphs and Pan.141 As Connor has shown, when Plato portrays Socrates becoming in the Phaedrus, he attributes eloquence and poetic speech to the nymphs who dwell on the spot of the conversation; nympholepsy is equated with and appears to be a transient condition in which one loses one’s customary selfconsciousness and speaks in verse.142 Socrates speaks of the condition as though it should be feared, and yet his tone is not serious and his topic is rhetoric, not religion. He also uses nympholepsy as an excuse for his feigned reluctance to speak at length and later (at 263d) as a way to review his speech with Phaedrus’s participation, claiming he has forgotten it because of . Plato seems to equate nympholepsy with poetic inspiration, drawing on his theory in the Ion that the Muse (sometimes considered to be a type of nymph), not the poet, is responsible for poetic speech.143 Archedamus’s dedications may seem to confirm this interpretation, but it should be noted that verse inscriptions and poetic language are not restricted to nympholepts, and that it is not Plato’s goal to describe nympholepsy accurately. Further, the gods Eros and Pan seem to be the real source of Socrates’s fear in the context of the dialogue as a whole, and Pan,


although associated with nymphs in cult, produced effects on humans different from those of the nymphs.144 Aristotle provides a less detailed but perhaps more objective view within his discussion of ways by which people achieve happiness, “as do the nympholepts and theolepts, as though inspired by the will of some divine type of being”: , .145 Aristotle couples this cause of happiness with that of good luck, in contrast to happiness resulting from effort and training. By this view then, the nympholept is blessed by a divinity with some sort of felicity through no effort of his own. The legend of Bacis, who was said to have received the skill of prophecy from the nymphs, suggests, as does Plato, that the nymphs send spontaneous utterances to humans, but is somewhat ambiguous about the value of this gift and whether it applies to all nympholepts. The notion that Bacis was a nympholept comes from late sources such as Pausanias, who says that he was “possessed by the nymphs”: .146 Aristophanes provides earlier evidence that Bacis received his gift of prophecy from the nymphs, with the implication that they deceived him, but the comic context rather than the general belief that the nymphs were dangerous may be the cause of this assertion.147 Herodotus presents Bacis’s oracles as trustworthy, but does not connect his gift with the nymphs.148 Reliefs portraying human contact with nymphs suggest positive attitudes by the humans portrayed.149 On fifth-century reliefs, human activities with the nymphs are depicted as dancing150 and offering of a gift,151 or a prayer,152 and the participants in the latter two examples appear to make eye contact with a nymph, but do not appear disturbed or afraid. While possession by Dionysus, the god of wine, does signify madness in the Classical period,153 the seizure by the nymphs, who preside over waters, does not. When Classical evidence is isolated from later accounts of nympholepsy and possession, it becomes clear that attitudes about these phenomena changed over time and that we cannot assume that the terms meant the same things at all stages in antiquity. Herodotus says that Aristaeus of Proconnesus, , travelled to the Issedonians, wrote of his journey, and was reported to have died or disappeared and then reappeared again later.154 The old view that Aristaeus was a shaman whose soul left his body has been challenged by a conjecture that Aristaeus’s “seizure” was a strong desire to visit the land of Apollo among the Hyperboreans, which gave him extraordinary courage and stamina to make the journey that could be explained only by the god’s possession of him.155 Whatever sort of altered state of consciousness Archedamus experienced from his nympholepsy, he does suggest that his “seizure” included both the passion and the energy to improve the nymphs’ home. The nymphs apparently “seized” all his attention and motivation, facilitating his tireless and strenuous physical labors, his creative adaptation of the landscape, and the composition of his dedicatory inscriptions.

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DIVINE ADVICE Archedamus confirms this interpretation of his nympholepsy in his inscription, explaining that he, , “seized by the Nymphs, and by the advice of the Nymphs,” ornamented the cave. The juxtaposition of the term describing himself and the motives or means by which he accomplished the task suggests that nympholepsy was a state in which he received, understood, and carried out the of the nymphs, like Aristaeus, with a strong impulse and energy from a divine source. Parallels and the evidence from the cave suggest that the advice may have been an order to complete the task and perhaps specific instructions on how to deco rate the cave, whether by direct visual or verbal communication or by ideas that the cave’s natural features helped to inspire and develop, as noted above. The word is rare except in poetry,156 where it is sometimes refers to knowledge, understanding, or advice by divinities as it does here. A prose example is found in a fragmentary sacred law from Archaic Mantinea, which contains the phrase, ,157 suggesting that state officials either received this advice themselves or assumed responsibility for orders given to a private individual by a divinity. Aeschylus’s chorus in Choephoroi says that Orestes, “the Pythian-ordained exile” carried out vengeance “spurred on well by understanding from the god.” ( , 940–41). And the chorus in Euripi des’s Phoenician Women describes how Cadmus sowed the serpent’s teeth “with the counsel of Pallas,” (667). And Archedamus’s language echoes also an early fifth-century dedication of a herm on the Athenian Acropolis that someone “erected by the advice of the god”: .158 Another early fifth-century metrical inscription, mentioned above, uses a cognate of to claim oracular orders for the dedication: : .159 As in Archedamus’s use of the word, these statements are ambiguous as to whether motivation, method, or both are meant by the word. But it is likely that the reception of advice from a god often involves some type of epiphany. This phenomenon is usually inseparable from divine advice in literary sources, which no doubt reflect actual experiences of worshippers to some extent.160 Although poetic invention is likely to dictate some particulars of epic epiphanies in which gods give specific instructions to humans,161 literature comprises part of the “culture-pattern” of a society that influences expectations and interpretation of experiences,162 and therefore it is possible that both methods of fulfilling divine orders as well as the initial impulse of a dedication were perceived as directed by divinities. Dodds has discussed the occurrence of epiphanies in secluded places, drawing on anthropological studies of visions and trances following isolation outdoors in other cultures as well as on ancient medical writings, which claim that


frightening hallucinations occur along with illnesses especially to those on a journey and a deserted road: .163 Archedamus may have been in the empty cave when he received the nymphs’ advice, but we do not know for certain that he was isolated continually during his work on the cave. He may have seen shepherds near the cave frequently. Further, a modest dwelling existed in the last quarter of the fifth century less than half a kilometer down the hill from the cave. It has been suggested that Archedamus may have lived here and perhaps he engaged in beekeeping.164 Since there is no evidence that Archedamus was granted citizenship or the right to own landor a house and these grants were relatively rare,165 this hypothesis is tenuous. It is possible, however, that he rented the house or had regular contact with its inhabitants, if the most recent dating of his inscriptions to the last quarter of the century is correct. Although Archedamus may have been alone while he experienced a divine encounter, the common assumption that he was a recluse for the duration of his life in Attica166 is unwarranted. Other worshippers assert that gods have told them what to do in waking or dream visions, using varied vocabulary to describe the interaction, but often do not clearly distinguish between epiphanies during waking and dream states.167 Epigraphic as well as literary parallels for claims of divine interaction leading to establishment of cult can explicate somewhat the divine-human communication depicted on Xenocratia’s and other reliefs and in Archedamus’s inscription.168 According to traditions handed down in historical writers as well as in other literature, gods could be recognized by their stature, brilliant appearance, gliding movement, beauty, piercing gaze, pleasant scent, resonating voice, or a distinguishing attribute that was held or worn.169 Lights, sounds, fragrances, or events that might be considered natural or supernatural could also signal a divinity’s presence.170 Although most epigraphical evidence for this phenomenon comes from the Hellenistic and Roman periods, it is also attested earlier. We have seen that indirect testimony is given by Plato’s Laws, and it also occurs in [Plato’s] Epinomis, stating that cults are often founded because of waking and dream visions as well as portents and oracles.171 A frequently cited parallel to Archedamus’s cult and private cults founded by orders of gods in general is that of Artemidorus of Perge, who set up a sanctuary on Thera in the second half of the third century B.C.172 He established a shrine comprised entirely of rock-cut reliefs and altars, one of which was set up to Homonoia “in accordance with a dream.”173 He also dedicated altars to the Dioscuri,174 the Great Gods of Samothrace,175 and Artemis of Perge;176 inscriptions to Zeus, Poseidon, and Apollo with reliefs of their symbolic animals (eagle, dolphin, and lion, respectively);177 a shrine to Ptolemy III;178 and statues and reliefs of Tyche, Hecate, Priapus, and perhaps the nymphs.179 Like Archedamus, Artemidorus migrated to a new land, emphasizes his foreign origin in his inscriptions, and transforms the natural landscape at least partly in obedience to divine advice. He may also portray himself on one of the rocks of

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his sanctuary that depicts a head carved in relief, although the identity of this figure as Artemidorus has been questioned.180 But the dissimilarities between the cults of Archedamus and Artemidorus outweigh the similarities. Before settling at Thera, Artemidorus had an active political career under the Ptolemies, who had control of the island and used it as a naval base.181 Perhaps still serving as their representative, he was made a citizen of his new home and received inscribed honors from the Theraeans. He also emphasizes his service to the polis in his foundation.182 Thus although he establishes his cult as a private individual, its character is decidedly political; Artemidorus blatantly aims to please the Ptolemies and the citizens of Thera, and unlike Classical founders and innovators of private cults, his religious motives fade into the background in the inscriptions that stress his political ties and public benefactions. Further, the divinities he worships are more numerous and varied than Archedamus’s, comprising an amalgamation of Olympian and minor deities along with abstract personifications and deified monarchs typical of Hellenistic cults, and he gives greater honors to imported divinities than to those indigenous to Thera.183 While continuity from the Classical period is evident in stated motives for the altar to Homonoia and pride in his work on a private cult, the sanctuary as a whole reflects Hellenistic religious and political trends. Few cases of cults founded because of interaction with divinities in the Classical period provide evidence as extensive as do the cults of Archedamus and Xenocratia. Nevertheless, a brief examination of extant evidence will provide a broader perspective of cult innovations already discussed here and is crucial to an evaluation of Plato’s claims about the founders of shrines and their motives: are these founders chiefly women and weak men and do they indicate that danger or difficulty was connected to their visions or to their decision to set up a shrine?184 There were numerous ways to express divine command in the Classical period and later, but apart from mention of a dream, it is unknown whether the different terms signify a different type of order. After the Classical period, a number of expressions such as , and recur regularly, but earlier, dedicators seem to use more varied language.185 The following fourth-century inscription was found on Cos, carved on an altar: , . “Phileratus, son the Aristides, at the command of Basileus (King) of Caunus the god, founded the shrine.”186 Phileratus is unknown, but his Doric dialect and the absence of an ethnic suggest a Coan origin; the god Basileus, is attested at Caunus and at Xanthus in Lycia, where, as on Cos, the epithet “of Caunus” is added.187 The introduction of the god to Cos may have involved Phileratus’s travel to or knowledge of Caunus. Like Archedamus, then, his divine orders came from a god indigenous to a land other than his birth-place, but the circumstances of his acquaintance with the god are not so obvious.


Another “outsider,” Philius of Cyprus, claims to have received orders in a dream to establish the worship of an eponymous hero of a community near Priene; he records his “triple visions” in three elegiac couplets:

Philius, a Cypriot by birth, from Salamis, son of Ariston, saw Naulochus, a dream vision in sleep, and the pure Thesmophoroi maidens in white robes. And in triple visions they told him to worship him as hero guardian of the city and pointed out the place. Because of this, Philius established him as divine. The inscription appears on a block built into the tower of a fountain house along the walls of Priene,189 erected in the mid-fourth century or later, when the residents of Old Priene (which has not been found) may have transferred their city to the Priene found in excavations. A relief that must have fit into a square niche directly below the inscription is no longer extant.190 Naulochon is the name of a port associated with Priene, perhaps an alternative or geographical name for Priene as a political entity,191 and Naulochus is presumably its eponymous hero. There is much we would like to ask Philius: What was he doing in Priene? He may have been a merchant, given the lively trade from Cyprus from the Bronze age on and Salamis’s reputation for its harbor.192 What does he mean by “triple visions,” and how was the order given? Did he have three dreams, or did each of the three figures in his vision give him a command? Recurring dreams of divine commands are attested later, for example, according to Tacitus, Ptolemy I had two visions ordering him to transfer the statue of Serapis from Pontus to Alexandria, and an oracle confirmed his instructions.193 What exactly does mean here?194 Did Philius set up an altar and precinct 195 along with his relief? The only unambiguous evidence is that Philius, like Archedamus, believes that he has received divine instructions to make his dedication to a deity linked to a land other than his own, and that the number three was significant enough to be emphasized in the content and form (of three couplets) of his dedication. The orders came from divinities who were worshipped in a civic cult of Priene;196 as in the case of Archedamus, Philius seems to have established a special relationship with divinities from a place other than his native polis.

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An interesting fourth-century example is Chrysina, a woman of Cnidus (mother of Chrysogone and wife of Hippocrates) whom ‘“Hermes told to serve the goddesses at Tathne” (otherwise unknown), and who “dedicated a house and statue to Core and Demeter,…after seeing a holy night vision”:

The dedication represents a substantial contribution to a cult, if not a new shrine.198 The goddesses communicate with the servant they desire indirectly, through another god. We can compare the intervention of divinities for the sake of the cults of other divinities with the orders given to Philius. In his dream(s), Demeter and Core acted on behalf of the hero, Naulochus; in Chrysina’s dream, they were to receive cult, and Hermes gave the command. Hermes is a natural intermediary between the divine and human world and his role in this dream is therefore not surprising, but the parallel with Philius suggests that other gods as well could assist their fellow divinities through interaction with humans in dreams. We can therefore allow for the possibility that Archedamus’s nymphs advised him to worship divinities other than themselves (Apollo, Hersos, Charis, Pan?) in their cave. Worshippers of Asclepius and other healing gods often claim in votive inscriptions and in representations of dreams on reliefs to have received instructions from the god, not only in regard to healings, but also to set up their dedications, including altars or shrines.199 Sanctuaries of Asclepius were often introduced by citizens who had been healed at Epidaurus and then established his worship in or near their own poleis.200 These poleis eventually took an active interest in the cults and assumed responsibilities of funding and organization because of the obvious benefits of health that the cult could bring to the community as a whole. The counsel from the god is sometimes specified as a dream vision but is often ambiguous, as in the case of Telemachus, who founded a cult to Asclepius in 421/20 at Athens. Little is known about him,201 but there is, at least, some evidence on the cult’s introduction. Telemachus erected a double-sided relief that provided a visual representation of the foundation of his sanctuary. It is evident from the extant fragments that it depicted the inside and the outside of this sanctuary and the sanctuary of Asclepius in the Piraeus, from which Asclepius was brought to Athens after being transported from Epidaurus.202 An accompanying inscription may mention an oracle that authorized Telemachus to set up his shrine on the southern slope of the Athenian Acropolis and perhaps asserted his authority over rivals who claimed a role in Asclepius’s introduction to Athens. Telemachus’s dispute with the Kerykes over


land for his cult as well as with other claimants to the cult’s introduction to the city may have motivated his mention of divine advice, and incidentally suggests one reason why sites not central to a polis may have been preferable to private cult founders.203 Like Archedamus, Telemachus emphasizes what he accomplished in both words and images on his monuments. The constructions of a gate and a building on whose walls medical instruments were hung that are portrayed on the reliefs show that Telemachus, unlike Archedamus, must have invested a substantial amount of money in the sanctuary, and the images of the outer entrance and the inner room in which healing took place fittingly represent the whole of his achievement. Another inscription referring to an altar ascribes the foundation to divine advice, which may or may not allude to an oracle: [ .204 “Telemachus consecrated you to Asclepius and the gods sharing his altar, being the first to dedicate it with sacrifices by divine counsel.” A third inscription, carved about the same time, may also refer to Telemachus; it records the dedication of an altar in accordance with the advice of Asclepius: , ] .205 The nature of Telemachus’s contact with the divinity is unfortunately impossible to reconstruct due to the fragmentary condition of his relief and inscriptions. Like Archedamus, he uses a term that does not tell us what kind of experience he interpreted as advice.206 But it is apparent that Telemachus depicts divine counsel as the chief justification for the extraordinary effort and expense that he donated to the sanctuary. It should be evident that divine advice to found cults or set up dedications was not confined to any one divinity, location, type of cult, nor status of worshipper. Contrary to what Plato says, women do not appear in the extant evidence to have been more prone than men to visions leading to dedications of shrines, nor does fear emerge as a motive. “Outsiders” such as Archedamus and Philius may have felt some insecurity in unfamiliar places, but they are not the only ones who experienced these visions, and they do not refer to distress in their inscriptions. Founders of Asclepius cults had often suffered illnesses before establishing branches of his cults, but Telemachus does not mention an illness in his inscription(s). H.W.Pleket notes that Hellenistic worshippers often refer to themselves by terms denoting slavery in relation to healing deities and Oriental gods. Pleket’s theory is that this vocabulary originally expressed the veneration of a worshipper in dire need of the god’s help, but in Hellenistic times came to express the worshipper’s acknowledgement of his humble position within a hierarchy.207 The cases discussed here show that in the Classical period, the command of a god need not entail humility nor even the mention of a request for help. At any rate, if the founders of these shrines made vows in distress and dedicated a gift in gratitude for divine aid in a crisis, they choose not to mention it.

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Plato’s testimony about motives for foundations of sanctuaries is best supported by accounts of epiphanies in a military context in the Classical period208 which lead to state cults rather than private shrines. The most frequent types of epiphanies reported by Herodotus, for example, are those associated with battles.209 Herodotus tells how Pheidippides met Pan on a mountain during a military mission to the Peloponnese before the battle of Marathon and was told by the god to convey a message to the Athenians that encouraged his worship in return for his help.210 The foundation story combines the themes of fear—the uncertainty of an impending a deserted landscape, which as we have seen is theoretically conducive to visions of divinities. Modern readers have inferred that physical and psychological stress contributed to Pheidippides’s experience (although Herodotus’s account does not hint at this interpretation) and the incident has been discussed in depth in the context of state cult foundations.211 For the purposes of this study, it is interesting to note that, although Pheidippides was serving in a public capacity as messenger of the Athenian state, his private and subjective experience is presented as the motive for the polis cult. A god’s epiphany to an individual can thus lead to either private or state initiative in religion, depending on the order of the god and its interpretation by the individual. While Herodotus’s accounts of military epiphanies suggest that divine orders may sometimes be correlated with states of uncertainty, stress, or anxiety, Plato’s testimony is obviously skewed in its emphasis on the nonpolitical status and helplessness of this type of founder. Epiphany was obviously an important component of the motives of many cult founders, but in their dedicatory inscriptions, private founders appear to avoid description of their own circumstances and prefer to focus on the appearance of the divinities, their divine orders, and their acts of fulfillment. And yet the dedications do suggest very personal motives related to the divinity’s special interest in the dedicators as individuals. Despite the efforts of modern scholars to link private cult foundations with public trends and motives,212 and despite Plato’s claim that weakness and need are predominant characteristics of these founders, the words of the founders themselves speak only in terms of personal motives and pious attitudes, chiefly, the desire to honor the god as divine orders have instructed. The inscriptions of these cults also seem to avoid emphasis on future reciprocity often seen in other dedications, where the dedicator asks for favor in return for his offering.213 And unlike the inscriptions of Xenocratia and Pantalces, these omit an invitation to worship and to attain similar blessings from the gods. The dedication of an altar or sanctuary by order of a god may have implied the ideas that were, in other types of dedications, expressed by explicit statements: of a need fulfilled by a god, of a request for favor in the future, and of encouragement of others to worship. A dedicator of any offering could stress the god’s role of advice in the dedication and thereby attest to his presence and power, but a god’s demand for a shrine implies greater power than other requests and implicitly encourages prayer and sacrifice at the shrine, since it shows that the god expects continuous worship by all who frequent the vicinity of the shrine


as well as a greater responsibility taken on by the recipient of the request. The dedicator of a place of worship thus increases his own as well as the god’s honor by reporting this request. The mention of the shrine is also a reminder to the god of the founder’s worth and a justification of continual reciprocity, since it makes possible perpetual honors to the god. In the next chapter, we shall see a different type of Classical founder, who emphasizes his role as a public benefactor in his description of the cult, simulating a political role but acting in a non-political capacity. Xenophon’s cult to Artemis is, like Telemachus’s, an offshoot of a cult originating elsewhere. Although Xenophon may have made a vow under distress and danger and may have had divine orders, we do not hear of them. His dedication, like Xenocratia’s, resembles a thank offering for benefits granted by the gods; like Artemidorus’s, it can be connected with a polis that had some political claim to the place of cult; and like Archedamus as well as Artemidorus, Phileratus, and Philius, Xenophon too is an outsider to the region of site where he situated his cult.

CHAPTER 4 Xenophon

INTRODUCTION TO ANABASIS 5.3.4–13 The Athenian Xenophon founded a cult to Artemis of Ephesus at Scillus in the Peloponnese in the early fourth century. Unlike the other founders of cults examined here, Xenophon tells us of his cult in an autobiographical excursus in his Anabasis; he also reveals his attitudes about religion in his other writings. He thus provides more information than the sources on the other cults, but information that must be understood in its literary as well as historical context. Xenophon’s concern with religious ritual that appears throughout his works was once interpreted as an indicator of an old fashioned outlook,1 a do ut des mentality masking excessive self-interest and material values, and excessive superstition and naivete.2 His sanctuary provided him with an extension of his estate and opportunities to entertain his neighbors, which has been read as an indication of self-serving calculation disguised as piety.3 Xenophon’s apparent desire to please the gods in conjunction with serving his own ends puzzled some scholars who had difficulty reconciling the traits of religiosity and self-interest.4 But a comparison with other manifestations of Greek religion, including Homeric epic as well as dedicatory inscriptions, shows that traditional worship depends on the belief that the gods grant benefits in return for honors from humans.5 Thus scholars now often recognize Xenophon’s religious attitude as a reflection of traditional Greek piety,6 and consider him a model in studies of typical Greek religious convictions and practice.7 Xenophon’s traditionalism provides an advantageous point from which to examine his cult; to fill in the gaps of information he omits, we can look to parallels in conventional contexts with some confidence, and from the facts he does tell us, we can learn about conservative practices in other private cult foundations. Xenophon’s background and career contributed to the circumstances leading up to the foundation of the cult. As a young man he associated with the Oligarchs in power after the defeat of the Athenian democracy in the Peloponnesian War. After the democracy regained control, he left Athens in 401 to serve as a mercenary with Spartans under the Persian Cyrus, who had


supported the Spartans in the Peloponnesian War. Cyrus hoped to overthrow his brother, Artaxerxes, and assume the Persian throne, but was killed, leaving Xenophon and the other Greek mercenaries stranded in the heart of Persia. These mercenaries, “The Ten Thousand,” also known as the Cyreans,8 chose Xenophon as one of their leaders to guide them out of enemy territory, and later as their sole leader. Their adventures as they escape (and sometimes fail to escape) hostile barbarians precede the account of Xenophon’s dedication of a sanctuary to Artemis in the Anabasis. When the Cyreans reach the Black Sea in the spring of 400, they regroup at the Greek city of Cerasus. Of the 12,900 men that set out with Cyrus, 8,600 are left.9 At Cerasus they sell their prisoners of war and booty and the generals divide the money, setting aside a share for the gods. Xenophon here explains in an extended digression what happened to the portion allotted to him, telling the reader about his future cult foundation and how part of the tithe of the Cyreans became a miniature branch of the Ephesian Artemisium in mainland Greece. Anab. 5.3.4

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3.5.4 “The tithe which they reserved for Apollo and for Artemis Ephesia the generals divided, each to keep safe a portion for the gods. Neon of Asine took a share in place of Chirisophus.11 [5] And so Xenophon, making an offering of Apollo’s portion, dedicated it in the treasury of the Athenians at Delphi and had inscribed upon it both his own name and that of Proxenos, who had died with Clearchus. For Proxenos was his guest-friend. [6] As to the portion of Artemis Ephesia, when he was leaving Asia with Agesilaus on the way to Boeotia, he left it behind with Megabyzus, the neokoros of Artemis, because he believed that he would be facing danger, and enjoined upon him to return it if he came through safely, but if anything happened to him, to make a dedication to Artemis, whatever he thought would please the goddess. [7] When Xenophon was in exile and dwelling at Scillus near Olympia, where he had now been settled by the Lacedaemonians, Megabyzus came to Olympia to attend the festival and gave back to him his deposit. And Xenophon took it and bought land for the goddess where the god ordained. [8] As it happened, a river called Selinous was flowing through the land; and in Ephesus too a river Selinous flows past the temple of Artemis. And in both rivers are fish and mussels; but at the place in Scillus there are also hunting grounds for all beasts caught in the chase. [9] He erected an altar and temple from the sacred money, and ever afterward, tithing the produce of the land, he sacrificed to the goddess; and all the citizens and neighbors, men and women, shared in the festival. The goddess provided to those who pitched their tents there barley, bread, wine, snacks and desserts, and a share of the animals sacrificed from the holy pasture and of those taken in the hunt. [10] They actually conducted a hunt at the festival, both Xenophon’s sons and the sons of the rest of the citizens, together with any men who wanted to hunted with them. They caught some of their prey from the sacred plot itself, and some from Pholoe, boars, roe deer, and deer.


[11] This is the land through which one passes on the journey from Lacedaemon to Olympia, about twenty stades from the sanctuary of Zeus at Olympia. Inside the sacred plot is a meadow and hills full of trees sufficient for the feeding of pigs, goats, cattle, and horses, so that even the beasts of burden belonging to those attending the festival feast sumptuously. [12] Around the temple itself is planted a grove of trees, which produce edible fruits in season. The temple resembles the one in Ephesus, a small one representing the large, and the image is like that in Ephesus, made of cypress to resemble the one of gold. [13] And a stele stands beside the temple with the inscription: ‘This place is sacred to Artemis. The one who holds it and enjoys its produce should sacrifice the tithe each year, and maintain the temple with what is left over. But if someone fails to do this, he will be a care to the goddess.’” The passage raises a number of questions concerning Greek religion, private cults, and Xenophon’s traditional brand of piety: Why was the tithe set aside specifically for Apollo and Artemis Ephesia? Why did Xenophon delay his dedication to Artemis? Why did he found his cult at Scillus, and what was the status of the land before he set up his cult? How exactly did he found this cult? What part did the hunt play in Artemis’s cult? The literary purpose of the passage, quite remote in both tone and substance from the events surrounding it, must be distinguished from the historical reality of the foundation, but the passage does reveal one way in which the founder viewed his cult. The cult and festival of Artemis at Scillus were established within the period between ca. 392 (the first Olympiad after the battle of Coronea in Boeotia in 394) and 371, when Xenophon was probably expelled following the Battle of Leuctra,12 while the division of booty occurred in March of 400. Regrettably, Xenophon provides us with no details about the foundation and the cult other than those in this passage, but answers can be sought in Xenophon’s other works, testimonia on him, the archaeological record, and similar cults elsewhere. The reason for the omission of details lies in the passage’s literary function. Xenophon did not write it to enlighten historians of religion, but rather to enhance the narrative of the Anabasis. Therefore, before considering questions of religion and history raised by the passage, it is fitting to examine its role and context within the Anabasis. THE FUNCTION OF THE PASSAGE IN THE ANABASIS In the chronological framework of the Anabasis, the division of booty at Cerasus occurs at the midpoint of Xenophon’s adventures with the Cyreans: Xenophon arrived in Asia in spring of 401,13 divided the booty in March of 400,14 and handed the troops over to Thibron in March of 399.15 The passage on Scillus does not mark the center of narrative, but rather lies about halfway between the beginning of Book 3, where Xenophon introduces himself at length and begins his role of leadership over the troops16 and the end of the Anabasis, where Thibron takes command of them.17 Xenophon’s account of the tithe and his

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sanctuary thus marks the midpoint of his career as leader of the Cyreans, while pulling the reader abruptly out of the world of the mercenaries and into a reversal of that world in the future. There is no dispute that the passage on Scillus is idyllic and remote from the violence of the bulk of the Anabsis.18 The Scillus passage in some ways resembles Homer’s description of Odysseus’s return to Ithaca. It represents a closure of the uncertainty and suspense encountered in foreign territory, but only temporary respite; new adventures on Greek territory lie ahead, and relief gives way to further anxiety. Xenophon’s emulation of Homer19 is also marked with innovation: whereas Homer often relieves tension through excursus into the past, the world of myth, or everyday life, Xenophon does so by projecting his reader into the future to view the results of an event within his narrative. Xenophon’s use of the imperfect tense when applied to cult celebrations imparts a sense of predictability and rhythm augmenting the mood of serenity communicated by the account of the festival ( , , 9–10).20 It projects the reader further into the future so as to view the festival recurring each year, thus enhancing the sense of fulfillment and continuity of events originating in the Anabasis. In this way the passage creates a return to peace and normalcy which seems to mirror the return to the Greek world, and at the same time throws into relief the savagery and insecurity of the events surrounding it. The excursus stands at a crucial point in the thematic structure of the Anabasis, where the Cyreans with Xenophon as their leader have ostensibly met their goal of reaching Greek territory and have decided on a passage homeward, only to find new difficulties and obstacles ahead. Recent studies of the Anabasis have recognized that when the work is examined as literature rather than for clues to the life and motives of its author,21 continuity and unity of themes through all seven books contribute to the impression of a well-planned whole. Themes recurring throughout the Anabasis include the social and political functioning of the army,22 human delusion and adjustment of values,23 suspicion,24 trust and deceit,25 leadership, and the rise and fall of the army as a community.26 The work has been divided into phases corresponding to different emphases related to these themes. John Dillery delineates the work into phases corresponding to the degree of unity or dissent among the troops.27 In the first phase of the expedition, the mercenaries are divided among their commanders, intent on obtaining material benefits for themselves rather than on their goals as a united group.28 Phase two —Books 3 and 4—witnesses the height of cohesiveness, when the Cyreans’s main concern is survival and a return to the Greek world, and leaders dominate the narrative, reflecting the dependence of the men on the conduct of their commanders. In the phases surrounding these episodes, the primary goals of the troops are acquisition of provisions and material profit. In Phase three (Books 5 and 6), during the journey along the coast of the Black Sea, the unity of the army


falls apart as individuals greedily attempt to seize plunder without authorization, leave the army, are killed, or sold as slaves. Dillery discusses Xenophon’s plans to found a colony as a utopian Panhellenic community opposing the reality of the army’s disintegration, which is paralleled in miniature by the excursus on Scillus.29 The insertion of utopian visions in the midst of dystopian events thus encourages the reader to share in Xenophon’s disappointment in seeing his ideal, the army as a unified Panhellenic society, crumble before his eyes. The passage on the tithe stands at the beginning of the third stage in this analysis, between the Cyreans’s united struggle against foreign peoples and territories and their disunity brought about by greed and mutual suspicion. Dillery’s methodology draws on modern studies of utopian literature, which seek to understand a utopia by comparison to its “opposition,”30 and can be applied more extensively to the Scillus passage, which includes the positive elements of a peace/harmony versus violence/stasis dichotomy as well as additional antitheses reflecting recurrent themes of the Anabasis. The passage is strategically placed so as to magnify the hardships, frustrations, and defects of the army and deserves further consideration not only as a reflection of Xenophon’s desire to see the army as an orderly polis in the face of chaos and discord, but also for its aesthetic effects and the structure it provides to the motifs of Xenophon as leader and religion in the Anabasis. The most noticeable of these antitheses is Scillus’s abundance of food, offered without request and given freely by a goddess to anyone who wants it (even to animals) on a predictable occasion, in contrast to the Cyreans’ lack of food and their continual quest for provisions. Far from enjoying the produce of a large estate with a surplus of fruits, herds and game, the Cyreans are rarely certain of how and where they may obtain supplies. If they fail to buy or secure permission of inhabitants to take food from their territory, they raid and plunder the land and villages.31 Andrew Dalby points out that the Cyreans resemble the Achaeans of the Iliad rather than the armies of Classical Greece in their treatment of provisions: until they reach Calpes Limen, between Heraclea and the Bosporus,32 those who are the first to find supplies distribute them at their own discretion, sometimes only after receiving compensation.33 Even when abundant provisions are found, an equal distribution is not guaranteed. The only time that fair and equal distribution occurs is when provisions are granted as gifts,34 just as they are at Scillus; but in Asia the Cyreans never know in advance which towns will make such a gift. There are three passages in which the options for procuring provisions are enumerated,35 and it is noteworthy that two of them36 enclose the Scillus passage, and all of them occur in speeches spoken by Xenophon in the role of leader. At 5.1.6–7, Xenophon points out to the troops that the hostility of local inhabitants and lack of funds will necessitate organization of foraging expeditions rather than purchase from a market or foraging without authorization and protection of a group. At 5.5.13–19, Xenophon tells the Sinopeans the methods by which the Cyreans have obtained provisions before: purchase, gifts, collusion with enemies of the inhabitants, or force, whether against Greeks or

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foreigners. Xenophon also emphasizes the adversities caused by attempts to provision the army just before the Scillus passage: While efforts to secure ships for a return voyage were taking place, the Greeks were going out in search of booty, and some got it, while others did not. Cleaenetus led out his company to rough territory and he as well as many others with him were killed. Since it was no longer possible to get provisions so as to return to the camp within the same day, Xenophon, taking guides from the Trapezuntians, led forth half the army to the Drilae… the most warlike people of those in the Pontus region.37 Here the Cyreans, led by Xenophon, obtain plunder with great difficulty and violence, suggesting that, intertwined with the abundance/lack of food antithesis, is the theme of leadership and the contrast of Hellene and barbarian, represented by Greek manners and decency in contrast to foreign coarseness and hostility. After escaping from these “most warlike” people, the Cyreans go to Cerasus and sell their booty, at which point Xenophon digresses to describe a world of peace and civilization in the Scillus excursus. The Mossynoecians, whom the Cyreans meet after leaving Cerasus are, significantly, described as “the most barbarian and remote from Greek customs.”38 The food and beverages found here were also unfamiliar to the Greeks39 and required negotiations and two days of fighting to gain access to them. Xenophon certainly would not have invented these two episodes to create contrast with the Scillus passage, but he does seem to use language and attention to details to underscore the savagery of the peoples to contrast with the idyllic picture of Scillus, where Greeks share food according to Greek customs without strife. Greek food and Greek religion signify safety, in contrast to foreign food and foreign customs. Just before the march into Trapezus, we hear of an episode linking the problems of obtaining proper provisions with sickness. When the soldiers indulge in the honey of local villages south of Trapezus, they fall into states resembling drunkenness, illness, delirium, or psychosis.40 Immediately following the recovery of the men, the troops arrive at Trapezus, receive gifts of food and access to a market from the Greek inhabitants, and celebrate a sacrifice and games in honor of Zeus, Heracles, and the other gods41 to whom they had made a vow upon their decision to resist the Persians.42 The feast includes and , the same comforting Greek foods that Xenophon will serve at his sacrificial feasts. Xenophon thus alternates episodes indicating the hardships and contingencies of the journey with those portraying the fulfillment of needs and plans. Religion, nourishment, and safety are intertwined in the Cyreans’ goals and in Xenophon’s depiction of his cult. These themes are linked to that of leadership, which pervades the Anabasis as it does Xenophon’s other works.43 In the idealized context of the Scillus passage, we observe a benefactor bestowing feasts on a community at peace, in contrast to the leader of wandering mercenaries who demand the opportunity to seize food


by force and threaten the leader’s honor and life if pay is not forthcoming. Whereas at Scillus, Xenophon sacrifices for the pleasure of the goddess and visitors to her sanctuary, in Asia, he sacrifices to discern the gods’ will and often meets with opposition or hostility from the Cyreans. Xenophon makes it clear that obedience to divine signs should be the leader’s priority, even when it contradicts an intent to help the army: when the generals want to attack a region so as to benefit the troops (presumably with extra booty), unfavorable omens of sacrifices dissuade them.44 The circumstances of Xenophon both with the Cyreans and at Scillus render him a leader of ambiguous authority mimicking a leader of a state. In Asia, Xenophon acts as a general empowered with the sanction of a polis, while possessing only the temporary and fickle approval of mercenaries; in Scillus, he undertakes a project often assigned to state-appointed officials, the foundation, financing, and management of a sanctuary and annual festival. Perhaps Xenophon’s mention of his exile in the Scillus passage is meant to suggest the incongruity of this “natural leader” being rejected by his native polis, just as his account of his good intentions toward the Cyreans in the Anabasis reveals the injustice of the mercenaries’ suspicions and hostility toward him. Xenophon highlights the themes discussed above through his treatment of religion. Performance of religious duties is commonplace in the activities of the Cyreans as it was in the life of other Greeks, and Xenophon mentions it often with little commentary. Therefore the mention of specific details concerning religious activities and divinities accentuates the significance of the circumstances giving rise to them, whether normalcy, extremities of hardship or danger, gratitude at salvation, or hope for the future. For example, Xenophon tells us that he received a dream from Zeus which spurs him to call the Cyreans to action and assume leadership.45 During his exhortation to the troops a sneeze is interpreted as a sign from Zeus, and Xenophon initiates a vow to him,46 which the Cyreans fulfill at Trapezus.47 The explanation of events as god-sent underlines the helplessness and despair of the Cyreans: only divine assistance could shake them out of their aporia. It also sanctions their mission to resist the Persians as well as Xenophon’s role as Zeusappointed leader, while the fulfillment of the vow recalls the vow itself, compelling us to recognize that Xenophon has successfully reached the goals formulated at the time of the vow, and that the Cyreans are mindful of pledges to the gods. Although religious activities such as pre-battle sacrifices are mentioned in the Anabasis quite regularly, the names of the gods are usually omitted. Zeus appears most often, lending his name as the watchword,48 sending a dream, omens,49 or thunder,50 as Zeus Xenios, offended by Tissaphernes,51 as a recipient of the vow and sacrifice mentioned above52 and of sacrifices by Xenophon in his attempts to obtain omens.53 Xenophon’s finances improve near the close of the Anabasis only after he sacrifices to Zeus Melichius.54 Heracles is the second most frequently named god and, like Zeus, is the recipient of

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sacrifices,55 and appearing with Zeus as the watchword.56 The myth of Heracles’s descent to the underworld is mentioned in a description of Heraclea.57 On the other hand, Xenophon rarely refers to Apollo and Artemis outside of the passage on the tithe, although we shall see that they were deities important to the Cyreans collectively as well as individually. He mentions the myth of Apollo’s flaying of Marsyas in connection with a description of Celaenae58 and sacrifices to him once.59 Xenophon tells of how he consulted Apollo’s oracle at Delphi on his excursus about himself, introducing the advent of his leadership.60 The altar of Artemis serves as a point of refuge and oath-taking for the treacherous Orontas,61 and Xenophon exhorts the troops with the account of the Athenians’ vow to the goddess at Marathon to illustrate the precept that the gods reward bravery.62 The minimal role played by Apollo and Artemis in Xenophon’s account does not necessarily indicate that they receive honor only at this point of the expedition. The Cyreans may have offered any of the numerous sacrifices to one or both of them, and Artemis Agrotera was always the recipient of the sphagia, the slaughter of a goat before battle by the Spartans, as Xenophon knew63 and tells us he practiced himself in the Anabasis, without referring to the goddess.64 Xenophon’s selectivity in designation of deities by name may be due to his construction of the Anabasis so as to display his leadership prominently within a unified structure where Zeus is central to the events within the narrative, as the god responsible for Xenophon’s leadership and the salvation of the Cyreans. The mention of Zeus, Apollo, and Artemis in the same context is therefore highly unusual, especially in the prominence given to Artemis, while Zeus is mentioned merely because his Olympian sanctuary lies near Xenophon’s Artemisium. Apollo is the god whom Xenophon consults before the expedition and to whom he makes a dedication afterward. Artemis resides in Ephesus, the city through which Xenophon passes before meeting Cyrus,65 and receives a new home with Xenophon after his return to Greece. These deities thus occupy a marginal position chronologically and geographically in Xenophon’s experiences with the Cyreans and play a minimal role in Xenophon’s account of the expedition, but emerge in a central position in the Scillus passage, while Zeus fades into the background. The excursus therefore helps to make the Anabasis a very personal story of Xenophon and the course of his leadership, rather than reinforcing the Cyreans’ previous religious acts and attitudes. Xenophon depicts himself as the distributor of the goddess’s food, from the produce and herds of the estate purchased with the tithe money. The origin of the prosperity that Xenophon will share with his neighbors derives from the Cyreans’ forays, with Xenophon as their leader. Violent seizure of food is transformed into natural abundance, with Xenophon responsible for the provisioning in both settings. The digression suggests an impossible fantasy in which Xenophon, through a divinity’s benevolence, would be able to distribute food equally and generously, just as he will at Scillus. While portraying himself as a leader who fulfills his obligations to his men and to the gods, Xenophon also turns the Anabasis inside


out: in the center of his leadership of the expedition, he effects a reminiscence of his life and relation to gods before and after the expedition. The divinities who are named elsewhere mainly in contexts concerning himself alone are here recipients of the collective tithe. The result is that the expedition itself seems to be central to Xenophon’s life, while the Cyreans’ survival and well-being appear to revolve around Xenophon as leader. Xenophon uses the excursus on Scillus to expand his responsibilities as leader of the Cyreans outside of the Anabasis’s chronological bounds, and to project his good will and generosity to his neighbors in the future back into the expedition of the Cyreans. His inscription extends the tithe of the Cyreans and Xenophon’s implementation of the tithe into the distant future so that the piety of and divine blessings bestowed on Xenophon and the Cyreans appear perpetual. We shall, then, assume that Xenophon’s vision of his cult within the Anabasis represents one aspect of how the cult was perceived by Xenophon and others. At Scillus, Xenophon founded a cult whose sacred property provided an abundance of food and a certain sense of security, at least for a time, that was directly related to its religious character. We shall now reconsider the excursus on Scillus in an analysis of its religious and historical significance. First, why did the Cyreans choose Artemis of Ephesus as the recipient of the tithe? THE DEDICATION OF THE TITHE Anab. 5.3.4:

While Zeus and Heracles appear to be the most prominent gods in the sacrifices of the Cyreans, they do not receive the tithe. The choice of Apollo and Artemis Ephesia as dedicatees is nowhere explained in the text of Xenophon nor in other testimonia. If vows were made to Artemis and Apollo, Xenophon does not mention them. As we have seen, Xenophon’s literary aims may have contributed to the omission. It is also true that vows and prayers to the gods were often too much a part of pre-battle routine to call for remark by ancient historians, unless something out of the ordinary occurred.66 That a collective vow was made is suggested by Xenophon’s inscription of Proxenos’s name on Apollo’s dedication. The Theban Proxenos had invited Xenophon on the expedition and had died in Persian territory;67 Xenophon’s inscription of his name indicates that he had made vows with the other Cyreans, obviously contingent on the Cyreans’ reaching Greek territory safely. Since the tithe was split between Apollo and

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Artemis, it is likely that a vow to both was made at the same time. The dedication of the tithe represents the end of the adventure in Persian territory and the fulfillment of vows, marked by the sale of booty at a Greek city. WHY ARTEMIS? The reason for the selection of Ephesian Artemis is possible to deduce from other historical evidence. The attributes of Artemis in general made her an appropriate object of worship by mercenaries, and the Ephesian sanctuary was conducive to advertising their accomplishments as well as thanking the goddess who represented the territory they had traversed. Artemis has been called the most popular of Greek goddesses;68 she is the protectress of mothers, children (as in Xenocratia’s cult), warriors, hunters, and animals. She was traditionally honored as goddess of war by both Dorian and lonian peoples, and thus the diverse origins of the Cyreans probably led to no disagreement about honoring her.69 Nearly contemporaneous with the tithe in the Anabasis is an inscription of 398/7, in which the Treasurers of Athena and the Other Gods at Athens list a dedication to Artemis of cavalry equipment by a hippeus.70 Both Spartans and Athenians customarily called upon Artemis Agrotera (the Huntress) before battle. Xenophon mentions the Spartan sphagia, during which the throat of a she-goat was cut for Artemis Agrotera directly before battle.71 The Athenians began association of the goddess with battle during the Persian Wars,72 and Xenophon himself earlier in the Anabasis exhorts the Cyreans with the story of how the Athenians had vowed to sacrifice a goat to Artemis for each enemy killed, but settled for five hundred goats yearly when the slain outnumbered available goats.73 And Xenophon perhaps knew of Themistocles’s private cult of Artemis Aristoboule (“Of the Best Counsel”) which, if we believe Plutarch, he had founded near his house in Melite after his success in the Persian Wars.74 It is certainly possible that emulation of the famous general figured in Xenophon’s motives to found the cult, given his preoccupation with his own role as leader. Xenophon and Plato regarded hunting as the best training for war,75 suggesting a link between Artemis’s concerns with the hunt, war, and youths. (The connection between hunting and war and their association with Artemis perhaps rest also on the common element of killing76 and the dedication of spoils from both,77 or the wild and uncultivated character of the land on which these activities took place.78) Some of the Cyreans may have associated Artemis with their earlier training in the gymnasia, which also prepared them for their careers as mercenaries.79 She must have been famil iar to all of the mercenaries through her varied roles in presiding over transitions form childhood to adulthood, and as Hegemone, leading children as well as armies and migrating peoples.80 Thus it should not come as a surprise that armies on the move chose to honor her. But these traits alone do not explain why Ephesian Artemis was chosen. We might ask, why not Athena? She was also a warrior goddess, especially in Athens and Sparta,81 as well as a protectress of children.82 While Artemis’s


functions in myth and cult throughout the Greek world were certainly influential, her relationship to Apollo and her Ephesian sanctuary were probably the determining factors in the mercenaries’ decision. Artemis and Apollo were a natural choice as a pair; as brother and sister, they were worshipped jointly at sanctuaries throughout the Greek world83 and shared many of the same functions. Apollo, like Artemis, is traditionally associated with war, and may have gained his epithet, Epicurus, “ally,” because of his assistance in battles to Arcadian Epicuri, “mercenaries.”84 He is also known for leadership, probably originating in the worship of herdsmen, but developing into the sense of leader of communities and mercenaries.85 The Pythian Apollo at Delphi, whose oracular functions certainly overshadowed his military associations, was significant to at least some of these particular mercenaries: he had advised Xenophon on which gods to honor to achieve success in his expedition with Cyrus,86 and was probably consulted by many of the other mercenaries as well. The Pythian Apollo could have been conveniently honored in Ephesus, where he had a shrine and temple,87 but his location at Delphi was chosen not only because some of the mercenaries had consulted the oracle there, but also for its prominence as a Panhellenic sanctuary. William Rouse and W.K.Pritchett note that tithe offerings are placed nearly always in one’s native city or at Delphi or Olympia.88 The latter two shrines attracted the most people from many regions, and they were naturally preferred as the best showcase for tokens of victory. The publicity the Delphic sanctuary offered was perhaps as important as the identity of the god. EPHESIAN ARTEMIS AND HER CITY It stands to reason that the sanctuary of Artemis at Ephesus was chosen for similar motives. The use of the port and vitality of the city is well attested. Herodotus, Thucydides, and Xenophon show that Greeks often came to Ephesus because of its port and the availability of envoys and guides for communications and travel inland.89 Xenophon says that when he landed in Asia, a mantis escorted him from Ephesus to Sardis.90 For the mercenaries as a collective body as well as for Xenophon, the recollection of Ephesus and its sanctuary as the first place encountered on Asian soil may have motivated the choice of Artemis of Ephesus as the representative divinity of Asia. In addition, by the late fifth and early fourth centuries, Ephesus had grown into an eastern counterpart to the mainland Panhellenic sanctuaries and had thus become sufficiently eminent to afford the dedicators the publicity they desired. The prestige of the sanctuary at Ephesus resulted probably from a combination of factors: its antiquity; its goddess, exotic yet Greek; its location at a port and crossroads to other important cities; the consequent wealth, favored status, and special respect for its asylum by rulers throughout its history. The development of Artemis Ephesia’s distinction and recognition among Greeks will be explored in greater depth, since

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it motivated not only the tithe, but also Xenophon’s plans to found a branch sanctuary at Scillus. When Greeks settled in Ephesus during the period of lonian migrations, they equated the local Anatolian goddess with Artemis.91 The earliest temple was built in the seventh century, fusing with or eliminating another cult of a goddess adjacent to it, and was renovated or rebuilt several times before the latest in the mid-fourth century B.C.92 In ca. 560, Croesus attacked Ephesus first of the Greek cities on the coast and later dedicated offerings of golden cows and temple columns there.93 Herodotus says that during Croesus’s attack, the Ephesians tied a rope from the walls of the town to the temple of Artemis, located about a mile away, in an apparently successful attempt to place their city under her protection.94 This is the earliest historical reference to the temple’s inviolability that was famous in the Roman period.95 Croesus may have promoted the cult at least partly in order to unify the distinct ethnic groups of the region and their different goddesses.96 By ca. 550 B.C., during the construction of the temple to which Croesus contributed, the sanctuary had at its disposal gold and silver from diverse sources identified by inscription on a silver plaque.97 By the Classical period, only the temple of Hera at Samos rivaled the splendor of Ephesian Artemis’s temple in the Greek world.98 The possession of an important port and its location on the road to Sardis, the Lydian and then Persian capital of Asia Minor, gave Ephesus both political and economic advantages as a diplomatic and commercial mediator. These factors, combined with veneration for the goddess and her apparent protection of Ephesus, led to prosperity for the Artemisium. The Persians followed the example set by Croesus in his respect for the sanctuary. During the lonian revolt, Xerxes refrained from burning this temple when he burnt all others,”99 and toward the end of the century (ca. 410), Tissaphernes went to Ephesus specifically to sacrifice to Artemis before attempting to renew an alliance with the Spartans in the Hellespont.100 In 409, in his efforts to rouse military resistance to the invading Athenians, Tissaphernes sent his cavalry on a mission to exhort “everyone” to come to Ephesus to help Artemis: .101 Perhaps the fame of the veneration paid to the sanctuary and city by a series of Eastern rulers had a greater effect on the reputation of Ephesus than the material benefits that came along with it. The city’s provision of access to the sea and to Sardis, in addition to its relations with rulers, resulted in a cosmopolitan character that made it known to the Mainland Greeks. In other coastal Greek cities of Anatolia the cultural boundaries between Greek and non-Greek, and Eastern and Mainland Greek were similarly fluid and important sanctuaries existed in them as well. Ephesus stands out, however, in its special treatment by monarchs together with its location, making it often the first city encountered by Mainland Greeks upon arrival in Anatolia, as it was for at least some of the Cyreans. For much of the fifth century, Ephesus was governed by an Athenian-installed democracy and


paying tribute to Athens. In the 420s, lonians were celebrating at the Ephesian sanctuary a festival similar to the old Panionian celebrations on Delos, adding Greeks from the islands and coast of Anatolia to Ephesus’s visitors.102 Lysander and then other Spartans used Ephesus as a military base from 407 to 394, and also as a gathering place for political meetings.103 Ephesus returned to an Athenian alliance after the victory of Conon in 394, a few months after Xenophon and Agesilaus had left.104 By the late fifth century, with the victory of Sparta over Athens facilitated by Persian subsidies, Greeks from the mainland viewed the Persians as a source of financial support to Greek states. Several cities sought support from the same source throughout the fourth century, which must have stimulated traffic through Ephesus and the Ephesian sanctuary.105 That Mainland Greeks were aware of the Ephesian Artemis’s wealth and nonGreek worshippers in Xenophon’s time is shown by a passage from Aristophanes’s Clouds, where rhe chorus invokes Artemis: “You, blessed (goddess) of Ephesus, who have a house of gold in which Lydian maidens give you great worship.”106 Pindar wrote of the sanctuary’s foundation by the Amazons, bringing Ephesus into the wave of the Amazons’ popularity on the mainland, especially in artistic representation of battles with Heracles and Theseus.107 About 435, Athenian sculptors constructed statues of Amazons for the Ephesian Artemisium in a contest at Ephesus.108 In Timotheus’s Persae, produced probably in Athens ca. 407 B.C.,109 shipwrecked men of the defeated Persian navy invoke both the Mountain Mother110 and the Ephesian Artemis. A man who swears he will never return to Greece if set free seals his promise in broken Greek: “ ”: “Artemis, my great god, at Ephesus (will) provide protection.”111 The passage suggests that Artemis of Ephesus was respected by Greeks especially for the protection that she gave her worshippers. We shall see that this reputation was probably an important factor in the acceptance of Xenophon’s cult at Scillus, as well as in the initial vow by the Cyreans. Social and political variability at Ephesus acted as a stimulus to piety toward the goddess. Location on the sea and political borders granted both vulnerability and opportunity; in salvation or success, the local divinity was responsible and thanked accordingly. Likewise, the acceptance of the Ephesian Artemis by various ethnic groups intensified the sanctity of the cult with the awareness of the deity’s universal appeal. Specification of ethnicity on offerings would not only distinguish the donor, but also, as part of a display of dedications from various other populations, add to the glory of the goddess. Ephesus, then, was a bustling city where Dorians and lonians mingled with non-Greeks near a wealthy and renowned sanctuary. Both Apollo and Artemis inaugurated the expedition for Xenophon and perhaps others who had consulted the oracle and passed through Ephesus. The divinities worshipped at these particular sanctuaries were personally meaningful to the mercenaries as individuals and also guaranteed publicity of the offerings dedicated in their

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sanctuaries. The peoples whom the Cyreans encountered and overcame or befriended on their journey might be better known to the Anatolian visitors to the sanctuary than to those visiting shrines on mainland Greece. Although such details were probably not expected to be published on the tithe dedication, the survival and report of Cyrus’s mercenaries would impress those who were close to the expedition as well as visitors to the sanctuary from other Greek lands. Persians, too, would visit the temple, and a great incentive to deposit the tithe in Ephesus was the opportunity to remind the Persians of the Cyreans’ success in surviving Persian treachery and the dangers of their journey beyond all expectation. Further, the importance of lonia as a source of employment for mercenaries112 suggests that many of the Cyreans could have become familiar with the sanctuary before the expedition and expected to remain in lonia to pursue further campaigns afterward. The Ephesian sanctuary could thus fulfill the role of a sanctuary at one’s home city, allowing the dedicator not only to view his offering in place, but also to witness the admiration of it by other visitors to the shrine. XENOPHON’S DELAY IN DEDICATING THE TITHE Anab. 5.3.5−6:

Xenophon says that he expected to encounter danger on his journey with Agesilaus, and therefore left the money with Megabyzus,113 a neokoros (official) of the cult of Artemis. His ability to fulfill his vow to Apollo but not to Artemis, however, is unexplained. While Xenophon does not specify when he dedicated his offering to Apollo, Diogenes Laertius implies that he sent it from Asia to Delphi: “But of the other half [of the tithe], he sent dedications ( ) to Delphi.”114 Elsewhere, Xenophon states that Agesilaus dedicated war spoils to Apollo at Delphi from his victory at Coronea in 394 over the Boeotians, Athenians, and allies, and some scholars think it likely that Xenophon waited until this time to set up his own dedication.115 But why would he expose Apollo’s share to the dangers from which he strove to shelter Artemis’s money? Delebecque has argued convincingly that Agesilaus made a


series of dedications through envoys while he was still in Asia Minor,116 and Xenophon must have sent his dedication along with one of these. Why did Xenophon send the money to Greece for Apollo but neglect to discharge his debt to Artemis at Ephesus before leaving Asia? It may appear that Xenophon was not so pious after all. Delebecque concludes that he followed materialistic rather than religious instincts and tried to cheat the goddess of her money. Part of Delebecque’s reasoning stems from assumptions of circumstances not expressed in the text, namely that Xenophon deposited his money not in Ephesus, but at the temple of Artemis in Astyra in the plain of Thebe in Mysia, keeping the money near his family members who were living in the Troad, for their benefit, not the goddess’s.117 Agesilaus was here gathering troops in spring of 394 for a summer campaign when he received word of his recall and prepared to leave.118 Delebecque reasons that Agesilaus and Xenophon left directly from Astyra for the Hellespont, since there is no mention of a trip to Ephesus and Agesilaus was already collecting an army which he could take with him. Megabyzus, then, must have been the neokoros of Artemis of Astyra (since Xenophon specifies only that he is neokoros of Artemis), unless he came from Ephesus on a journey to Astyra.119 Delebecque also reads into Xenophon’s vague orders to Megabyzus ( )120 an intent that at least some of the money be left to his family in case of his demise.121 What Xenophon says is that he left the share of Artemis of Ephesus with Megabyzus, the neokoros of Artemis, to be dedicated to Artemis. Repetition of Artemis’s epithet would be redundant, and most readers give Xenophon the benefit of the doubt that he left the money at the Ephesian sanctuary. Xenophon’s descriptions of Agesilaus’s preparations to leave Asia suggest that a journey to Ephesus, if not by Agesilaus, then by an agent such as Xenophon, was in order, and that Xenophon must have given the deposit to Megabyzus then. Hellenica 3.4.20 indicates that before he departed for Greece, Agesilaus left a governor in Asia with a garrison of over 4,000 men for the cities’ safety, and offered prizes of expensive and skillfully crafted ( ) arms and golden crowns to the best equipped men. The preparations recall those Agesilaus conducted in 395, when Ephesus was like a “workshop of War.”122 Craftsmen and materials were available in Ephesus, not on the plain of Thebe, and the harmost and garrison for Asia would most likely be installed in the city that had served as Sparta’s main base since 407, Ephesus. It is clear that Agesilaus did not leave immediately, despite the impression of haste Xenophon gives, and that Xenophon certainly and Agesilaus probably were in Ephesus before leaving for Greece.123 Further, the words, “to make a dedication to Artemis, whatever he thought would please the goddess,” suggest a conventional dedication or donation to her sanctuary. Xenophon, then, probably did leave his money at Ephesus, and with the intent that the goddess, not his family, eventually receive it.

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Delebecque also points out that Xenophon could have consecrated the money during the six years between the sale of the booty at Cerasus and his departure from Asia, but did not. This observation is, on the surface, a persuasive one. When Agesilaus arrived in Asia in 396, Xenophon served under him until handing over his command in spring of 395 at Ephesus.124 It is not clear whether he remained in Ephesus after that125 or accompanied Agesilaus as a volunteer or staff member.126 He was almost certainly at Ephesus early in 395, during Agesilaus’s war preparations, since his description of the city reads like an eyewitness report.127 If he was in Ephesus, however, the craftsmen’s duty to construct weaponry may have hindered him from detaining them with a commission for a votive offering. On the other hand, he could have simply dedicated the coins. This type of dedication, however, was probably not the most desirable, since coins would be the first dedications to be recycled for temple expenses and thus fail to preserve the memory of the dedicator. And if Xenophon was following Agesilaus on campaign, it is possible that time constraints as well as unavailability of materials or services of craftsmen prevented him from making an appropriate dedication; he thus postponed the dedication of the tithe with the intent to fulfill his vow with a lavish dedication when his life became more settled. The delay in fulfilling the vow until the conclusion of war is paralleled in circumstances recorded by a fifth-century inscription from Selinus: the dedications are ordered , when peace has come.128 Continuous mercenary activity must have often dictated a long postponement of making dedications. As the march of the Cyreans suggests, one campaign followed directly upon another without a settled period of closure and the opportunity to make detailed arrangements for construction and placement of expensive votives. The sale and division of the money at Cerasus did not mean that the gods would receive their due immediately; these things were done for facility of transport and to ensure that a single mishap could not result in a total loss. Lendle suggests that Xenophon may have already intended in spring 394 to dedicate an offering on the mainland that would help to spread the worship of the Ephesian Artemis there.129 This explanation is quite plausible, and is conformable to the one offered above. Xenophon was busy, and the sum of money was large enough to discourage him from commissioning craftsmen in the city, who may have charged exorbitant prices or simply did not have the time. The logical solution was to honor the goddess with a dedication in Mainland Greece, and perhaps Xenophon began his plans for a cult foundation while at Ephesus. If so, the intended location of the cult depends on whether or not he was already exiled or expected to be exiled. If the Athenians exiled him in late summer of that year, after the battle of Coronea (for laconism),130 then Xenophon must have envisioned the cult to be established in his native Attica. The foundation of the sanctuary on land purchased in Attica might have added to his prestige, but would not have provided a landscape suitable for hunting deer


and boar as Scillus did, as will be discussed further below. If, as is more likely, Xenophon suspected he would be exiled or was already exiled by 394 (for medism),131 he either planned to return to Asia at least to recover the money, if not to live, or may already have received assurance of refuge in the Peloponnese from Agesilaus. Xenophon’s mention of the danger he was entering and his provisions for the tithe in case of his death convey his uncertainty about the future, but he may have discussed a possible cult foundation with Megabyzus before leaving, and perhaps with Agesilaus’s encouragement. Xenophon accompanied Agesilaus to Coronea and then to the Peloponnese, where he was settled at Scillus by the early years of the 380s.132 SCILLUS: THE SITE Anab. 5.3.8:

The cult at Scillus, according to Xenophon, was located on the River Selinous and along the road from Lacedaemon to Olympia, about twenty stades from the latter site, and with a landscape of varied terrain: meadows, hills, and forests. Pausanias says that the remains of Scillus were visible in his time on the left of a road south of Olympia that passes through sandy regions and wild pine trees.133 These descriptions together with study of the area’s topography and archaeological finds have resulted in a nearly unanimous scholarly consensus that Xenophon’s property extended from modern Makrysia to the west across the River Krestena, formerly called Selinous.134 The site is now called Kampoule and is situated north of the hill, Profitis Elias. It is about two and a half miles south of Olympia and thus seems to fit Xenophon’s and Pausanias’s descriptions. In 1953, N.Yialoures discovered a large, shallow deposit on this site, 9.50 meters square and .75 meters deep. Within it were found hundreds of small painted vases of both Elean and Attic style and material. The vases included miniature hydriae and other vessels. In addition, there were terra cotta figurines and protomes of local manufacture. All of the protomes are representations of female figures wearing a polos, with arms crossed over the chest. Some larger statues, just under life-size, and bronze jewelry were also found in the deposit. A small Archaic terra cotta relief (.193 by .09 meters) depicting a reclining male figure holding a phiale, with a lyre hanging horizontally over his feet, is the only representation of a male from the deposit. Most of the pottery and other finds are of high quality and, according to Yialoures, resemble the finds of the deposit from the Heraeum of Argos. All finds date from the sixth to the fourth centuries

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B.C.Yialoures also reports that ruins, apparently of buildings, are visible around the deposit.135 P.G.Themelis has argued that this is Xenophon’s shrine and thinks it likely that Xenophon incorporated an earlier shrine within his own, but admits that secure identification of this deposit as the location of Xenophon’s sanctuary remains uncertain unless epigraphical evidence confirms it.136 Unfortunately the site has not received further attention, and the report by Yialoures is vague. There is no information as to how many vessels date to which centuries, how they were deposited, nor what covered them. It is tempting to associate this deposit with the well-known foundation deposit at Ephesus, and conjecture a specific cult tradition perhaps ordered by Megabyzus for offshoots of the Ephesian cult. But the evidence does not support this assumption securely; at Ephesus the deposit included coins but not pottery,137 while at Kampoule the reverse is true, and Yialoures does not say whether there was any sign that masonry covered the deposit. Such deposits were in any case quite common for cult and secular structures138 and thus cannot prove an Ephesian connection. The deposit was spread over a large but shallow area, 9.5 meters square, and may in fact be the size of the temple floor. It is possible that what Yialoures found were dedications left in place as they had been set up, perhaps on wooden structures that soon deteriorated, and covered over with soil when the cult faded into obscurity. On the other hand, the deposit may represent the votives that had accumulated in a sanctuary for two centuries, and then were buried in the fourth century perhaps beneath a new structure that continued to house a cult whose remains have vanished. That is, if this is the site of Xenophon’s cult, earlier dedications may have been buried by him outside or under the floor of his temple, perhaps as a variation of the Ephesian deposit. The exact nature of the deposit is obviously impossible to determine unless a more detailed description is published. The remains of constructions surrounding the site which are mentioned by Yialoures ( 139) are probably no longer extant, given the intensive agriculture in the region. Pritchett visited the site in the 1980s and expressed doubt that any architectural remains could survive the continual cultivation that extends over all of Kampoule.140 Lack of funding for further excavations prevented Yialoures from further investigation,141 and so the identification of the site must remain speculative. It is virtually certain that Yialoures found the ruins of a shrine dedicated to a female divinity, and perhaps Xenophon’s shrine contained similar offerings. Literary sources as well as archaeological finds indicate that the region around the Alpheus and Triphylia had numerous cults of Artemis,142 and so her worship here would not be surprising. The possibility that Xenophon “refounded” a cult is worth exploring, since it does not rest on identification with this site alone (he could have expanded another cult whose remains have not been found) and because it would explain how and why his apparent authority in local religious matters was respected by natives of Scillus and perhaps also why the Spartans offered him land there to begin with.


THE STATUS OF SCILLUS AND OF XENOPHON AT SCILLUS Anab. 5.3.7:

Xenophon says that he bought the land on which he established the cult of Artemis after he had “been settled” in Scillus by the Lacedaemonians. The term commonly designates the act of founding a colony143 or of settling as a colonist.144 Dinarchus says that the Lacedaemonians gave Xenophon a house and land ( )145 and Diogenes asserts that they granted him proxenia.146 No source is given for the last statement, and thus it is difficult to determine whether the proxeny was historically attested or based on inference. The arrangement described by Xenophon suggests that if he did not receive a formal title of proxenos, his position approximated it. The circumstances surrounding the acquisition of this land made possible the foundation of the cult, which in itself can be considered as an important factor in the reciprocal benefits of proxenia. The following discussion on how the land was obtained will therefore shed light on the public functions of this private cult. The Spartans may have acquired property in Scillus in connection with their war against Elis, which is related in Xenophon’s Hellenica147 and, in less detail, by Diodorus148 and Pausanias.149 The Lacedaemonians “freed” this territory along with other Elean perioikoi ca. 402–400 under the Spartan king, Agis II.150 The cities became Spartan allies and appear with the Eleans in the list of hoplites who served Sparta at the battle of Nemea in 394: the Eleans, Triphylians, Acroreans, and Lasionians contributed almost 3000 hoplites, while the Marganians, Letrinians, and Amphidolians sent about 400 slingers.151 Scillus was considered a Triphylian city,152 and may have sent some of these men. Scillus had earlier numbered among Elis’s perioikoi, who were all probably obligated to serve in Elean military campaigns but had some local autonomy.153 Polybius says that the Eleans allowed disputes to be settled on the spot,154 and Scillus was probably no different from other communities in its status as a polis with control over its internal order.155 Thus the politai to whom Xenophon refers as participants in his cult had long enjoyed a certain amount of freedom of selfgovernment and self-consciousness as a community. Their acceptance of Xenophon may have more to do with their accustomed acceptance of a more powerful state’s foreign policy than with indifference due to lack of a political identity. Xenophon’s description of his settlement in terms of a colony, his suppression of information about Scillus in his account of the Elean War, and historical

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precedents raise the possibility that the Spartans owned the land that they gave to Xenophon by confiscation. Scillus is not mentioned at all in accounts of the Spartan campaign. This absence is not surprising in the first attempt to invade Elis, which took place north of the Alpheus, and was aborted by an earthquake, after which the Eleans sent embassies “to as many of the poleis as they knew were ill-disposed to the Lacedaemonians.”156 The silence about Scillus, however, is somewhat conspicuous in the report of the campaign of the following year: the Lepreans, and, in quick succession, the Macistians and the Epitalians surrendered to Agis and Lacedaemonian allies when they invaded Elean territory from the south.157 Scillus lies about halfway between Macistus and Epitalion, and since it is not mentioned here, we might infer that it was one of the poleis hostile to the Lacedaemonians mentioned in the previous chapter. In all likelihood, it was plundered either along the way on this campaign, or during the following months, when a Spartan harmost and oligarchic exiles from Elis ravaged Elean territory from a garrison installed at Epitalion,158 about seven miles northwest of Scillus. It is possible that many of Scillus’s former inhabitants and landowners were killed or expelled by the Spartan invasion, and that at least some of this land was retained by Agis. Agesilaus inherited all of Agis’s possessions159 and Scillus may have gone to Agesilaus, who gave it to Xenophon. Xenophon, of course, would not want to remind himself or others of the violence responsible for his estate, and as a result, does not mention Scillus until he tells how the Eleans claimed it along with Triphylia and Marganeis as their own in 371/0 and refused to swear a common oath allowing all cities to be autonomous.160 While we cannot eliminate the possibility that the Spartans received the land by gift, purchase, or lease, and thus perhaps expended their own resources on a gift to Xenophon, precedents for giving conquered land to non-citizens make a gift of confiscated land more likely. The most common cases involve groups rather than individuals, but the pattern is the same. During the Peloponnesian War, the Spartans slew the Plataeans who refused to comply with them, and the land was then handed over to Plataeans sympathetic to Sparta and to Megarian exiles. The city was destroyed after a year; on it was built an inn and temple at the sanctuary of Hera, and the rest of the land was leased out for ten-year terms to the Thebans.161 Plataea, like Scillus, was a small border town. Thucydides neglects to specify a subject designating who settled the exiles in Plataea,162 but whether the Spartans or Thebans were responsible, the practice was not uncommon. The Athenians applied the same policy, slaughtering the residents of Scione and then sending the Plataean refugees to settle there.163 Spartans traditionally dispensed with unwanted refugees by colonization,164 though not always on land they had conquered themselves, and had sent people to Triphylia before. Herodotus says that they settled the Minyans here in mythical times.165 The Spartans more recently (and historically) had settled and fortified the Triphylian city of Lepreon with freed helots and neodamadeis (“new citizens”) in reward for their services in the Peloponnesian War.166


Scholars differ on whether this type of colonization was considered a benefit to the colonists. Higgins, with a majority of scholars, assumes that Agesilaus gave the Scillus estate to Xenophon as a mark of friendship.167 Delebecque, on the other hand, notes Xenophon’s omission of credit to Agesilaus for this, and interprets to mean “installed.” According to Delebecque, this “pseudo-gift” was made by xenophobic ephors who distrusted Xenophon because he was an Athenian and so granted him a home far from Sparta, on insecure territory.168 The truth probably encompasses both of these views: Xenophon received a kind favor in the gift of a potentially productive estate and comfortable means of living, but also a duty to look out for Spartan interests in the area, mainly to keep Triphylia free of the Eleans. Whether Diogenes’s mention of the status of proxenos is historical or not, it is likely that Xenophon was expected to serve Sparta in matters of both politics and religion in return for the estate, and Xenophon’s cult must have added to Spartan benefits. A proxenos was normally a citizen of a polis in which he acted as a host, protector, and intermediary of citizens from another polis which had granted him proxenia. The proxenos was expected to use whatever advantages he had in his city—property and social or political ties—to the benefit of the other city.169 Xenophon is obviously a special case, since he is not a citizen of Scillus, but other prominent Athenians such as Alcibiades and Themistocles had also served as benefactors of other poleis that had given them temporary refuge in exile. Alcibiades, like Xenophon, was a proxenos of Sparta.170 Xenophon could not legally act as representative of the Spartans to the Scilluntians in their local government, but he could fulfill other functions of proxenia.171 Xenophon’s proximity to Olympia certainly made it easier for him than it was for others farther away to secure information about political developments in the region as well as elsewhere by reading treaties posted at the sanctuary;172 he may have also been able to communicate with agents or representatives from Elis and other poleis.173 And it is likely that he would provide lodging in his home for Agesilaus whenever necessary.174 Previously ignored aspects of Xenophon’s role at Scillus involve the interrelation of religious and political duties connected with the shrines of Olympian Zeus and Artemis at Scillus. The sanctuary at Olympia had long provided religious sanction for peaceful interstate relations and served as a center of neutrality and political guarantees, despite its financial administration by Elis or the Pisatans who lived near it. Although its role in Elean relations with other cities or villages is somewhat unclear,175 the evidence does suggest that the finances of the sanctuary were separate from the community of the citizens who controlled it, and that the site was considered a center where the interests of all communities could be represented fairly. From the fourth century on, a legend circulated that the sanctuary’s immunity from violence had once been extended to the Eleans, but the numerous military acts of the Eleans had to be acknowledged in this account and thus the identities of the sanctuary and the city were viewed as politically distinct.176 The economic as well as political distinction between Elis and Olympia is suggested

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by an inscription of the Archaic period that was posted in the sanctuary: the Eleans imposed upon themselves and another community a fine payable to Olympian Zeus for violation of a military alliance.177 The Scilluntians had similarly used the sanctuary to encourage peaceful conditions within their community. An inscription dating to ca. 450 demonstrates that there was a local government at Scillus and concern about discord there: if anyone attempted to create stasis, he owed a fine to Olympian Zeus.178 It is unknown whether the Scilluntians themselves or the Eleans were responsible for this decree, but even if the Eleans imposed the fine, the god was considered the guarantor and supervisor of the agreement, to whom an oath was sworn. Another of Elis’s acquisitions, Lepreum, had been independent until the Lepreans asked the Eleans to assist them in a war against Arcadia in return for half their land; the Eleans allowed the inhabitants to remain but imposed on them the payment of a talent to Olympian Zeus.179 Zeus thus guarded just relations between the communities and was their one common focus of worship and political and social ties. When the Eleans surrendered to the Spartans ca. 400, the Spartans permitted them to supervise the Olympian sanctuary, “although it was not the Eleans’ in ancient times,” on the grounds that those who disputed it with them were “rustic and incompetent to supervise it.”180 Xenophon records the Pisatans’ claim to be the first to have managed the sanctuary,181 and perhaps heard this boast from Pisatans themselves. The Spartans may have distrusted the Pisatans, who lived around the sanctuary, in other matters as well as in their management of Olympia. The appointment of Xenophon on the frontier of territories controlled by them and by the Eleans may represent an effort to counter possible opposition or developments contrary to Spartan interests in the area. It is also possible that the Eleans were militarily stronger than the Pisatans and could recover the sanctuary from them by force if necessary; the Spartans thus perhaps anticipated the Eleans’ eventual control and granted it to them so as to be assured of access to the sanctuary. In either case, the Spartans’ concession of Olympia to the Eleans is framed by the former as a pious concern for the proper care of the sanctuary and a recognition of its importance to everyone. BENEFITS OF THE CULT TO THE SCILLUNTIANS, THE SPARTANS, AND XENOPHON Anab. 5.3.9:


The location of Xenophon’s settlement only two and a half miles away from Olympia could not have been arbitrary. If the Spartans feared that the Eleans would try to regain whatever control they had had over Scillus before the Elean War, then Xenophon’s presence, representing Sparta, could deter them somewhat, especially if he had the support of local inhabitants.182 If he was an official proxenos, the title alone may have discouraged violence against him, although evidence for official guarantees of proxenoi’s safety come mainly from Athens.183 Despite the general precept that all sacred land was immune from violence, the inviolability of both land and suppliants in some sanctuaries was respected more than in others.184 Xenophon’s sanctuary as well as other Scilluntian sanctuaries could be used as places of refuge in the event of an invasion.185 We have seen, moreover, that the name of Artemis Ephesia was famous for inviolability granted by invading rulers and the protection she had offered the Ephesians against Eastern monarchs. While her cult at Scillus obviously could not and did not prevent Elean attacks, her presence may have suggested a symbol of confidence in the community’s safety under a divine guardian. The cult may have won the gratitude of Scilluntians to Xenophon and to the Spartans who sent him there. At her festival, Artemis generously fed all who chose to participate as well as their pack animals. This is the most obvious benefit of the cult to the local residents, but the opportunity to worship the goddess and the protection that she offered should also be included as benefactions. If a preexisting cult had fallen into neglect after the Elean war, Xenophon’s assumption of the expense and responsibility for it may have appeased Scilluntians who would certainly not want to offend the goddess, but could not manage the cult themselves because of limited time and resources. (In the third century B.C., the people of Anactorium found themselves in a similar situation, but depended on the Acarnanian League, whose strong local interests contrast with the Peloponnesian League, to help them. Their town had been severely damaged by war and they could not afford to restore and maintain their cult of Apollo Actios. The League assumed this responsibility by means of public revenues gathered through taxes.186) Further, Xenophon says that his shrine was

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open to all men, women, children, and their beasts of burden during the festival and it is possible that he allowed free access to visitors and grazing rights at other times as well.187 In this way he could extend his benefactions to the Scilluntians, establish friendly relations with them, and try to ensure their loyalty to Sparta. The sharing of sacrifice would, of course, contribute to the social cohesiveness of the participants.188 And the local economy would also be somewhat boosted by the sanctuary. Xenophon had to purchase building materials and hire workmen to construct the temple and image and to cultivate his estate (although he probably used workers from Olympia and slaves for some of these tasks). And at the yearly festival, local musicians and craftsmen could be employed and display their talents.189 The use of conquered land for renovation of a sanctuary and its expansion with lodging for festival visitors has a precedent in the construction of an inn and temple at the sanctuary of Hera in Plataea,190 perhaps by the Spartans themselves, in the resettlement of that land after the conquest mentioned above. That divine sanction is meant to justify the earlier destruction of people and site is suggested by the use of remains of the Plataeans’ houses for these buildings and as dedications to Hera. If similar destruction occurred at Scillus, here too the piety implied in the construction of sacred buildings could detract from the impiety of earlier violence. A Spartan tradition of dedicating a portion of conquered land to a god is attested by a late source: The Spartans acquired land through a military campaign and were advised by an oracle to give half of it to Apollo.191 The oracle is dated between 775 and 750 and is thus too early to be completely credible, but Fontenrose thinks it was composed relatively early and it may be more historical than his other questionable responses.192 Xenophon’s purchase of land raises questions about property rights in Scillus and Spartan control over the Triphylian cities. We have seen that Scillus may have been ravaged before the Spartan victory over the Eleans ca. 400, and if so, some of the land fell to Agis and then Agesilaus. Xenophon, then, was given some of this land and may have purchased the land for his sanctuary from the Spartans or Agesilaus, who gave him this right as part of his reward. But while it is true that exiles are usually settled on allied territory only when the allies had first been conquered and deprived of property rights,193 the sources are usually explicit that the settlement is made up of a group, as the examples above illustrate. There is no evidence that Sparta resettled all of Scillus with its own supporters (although Xenophon may not have been the only one) and thus the degree of Scillus’s subjugation to Sparta was probably not very extensive. An alternative to purchase from the Spartans is that Xenophon bought the land from the Scilluntians. Even if the town was attacked in 400, some of the residents may have escaped, returned, and come to terms with the Spartans. If the Scilluntians sold the land, did the Spartans force them to grant the right of enktesis to Xenophon, or did they volunteer or give it willingly on the condition that Xenophon restore a neglected shrine? First, it is possible that rights of foreigners had not yet become a topic of public policy in some small cities194


such as Scillus. In that event there would be no problem with a foreigner buying land from a citizen. And yet the location and terrain perhaps did attract those who wished to resettle in the region, making policies on immigrants necessary, and enktesis a prerequisite for Xenophon. It is unlikely that all members of the Peloponnesian League shared with right of enktesis, this type of league is rare in the Classical period, but does appear to be true for the Olynthian league in the 380s.195 Isopolity or enktesis, however, does occasionally appear as a special grant to individual benefactors of a city, sometimes on allied territory.196 A parallel to Xenophon’s situation occurred in the first half of the fifth century, when the Gortynians and their dependents at Aulon (whose precise status is unknown) granted a house and land at Aulon to a non-citizen because of military assistance to Gortyn.197 The most likely solution to the problem of how Xenophon could buy land in Scillus is that the Spartans came to an agreement with the surviving and remaining population and that this agreement was considered at least partially favorable to the Scilluntians and included enktesis for certain supporters of Sparta. At the least, a specific agreement was made with regard to Xenophon. The assumption of responsibility for a shrine that the city could no longer support may have been a condition that Xenophon agreed to fulfill. Or Xenophon may have offered to found a new shrine open to the public that could benefit the Scilluntians. Unless Xenophon is deliberately deceptive in his passage on Scillus, the inhabitants of the town did enjoy benefits from Xenophon’s purchase of land there, and the grant of enktesis may have been contingent on the use of the land for a shrine, as the first known enktesis grant by the Athenians was.198 The land around Olympia was coveted not only for its fertility and beauty, but also, every four years, as camping ground for visitors to the Olympic festival. Roy has suggested that an early fifth-century grant of citizenship and land in Pisatis by the otherwise unknown Chaladrians to one Deucalion was contingent on the use of the land by the Chaladrians during the Olympic festival, although how the Chaladrians acquired this land is a mystery.199 A similar arrangement can be envisioned for Xenophon, who may have promised to house or provide accommodations at his own shrine for Spartan visitors to Olympia. The Spartans’ disapproval of the Pisatans as caretakers of Olympia perhaps suggests that they could not depend on local residents closer to Olympia to house them; and the Eleans who controlled the sanctuary could not be expected to offer generous hospitality to their conquerors. The two and a half miles would not be a hardship to travel on horse or mule compared with the discomforts of the crowds and perhaps cramped conditions closer to Olympia.200 Xenophon would of course offer more generous hospitality within his home to royal guests and state ambassadors, but his own campground could help ease the space limitations for others who came to see the games. In his role as host to Spartan officials, Xenophon resembled a theorodochos, a receiver of theoroi. The title is first attested in the early fourth century, but the function probably existed earlier, and often occurs with the title or function of proxenos.201 One type of theorodochos

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provided safe transport, lodging, and food to ambassadors visiting sanctuaries, and although proxenoi and theorodochoi were distinguished by their respective reception of secular or religious embassies, it is not surpris ing that some individuals hosted both types of visitors.202 Xenophon could thus serve the Spartans both in politics and religion as a host for those on their way to negotiate, consult the oracle, or attend the festival at Olympia. Part of Xenophon’s duty as proxenos may have been to assist Spartan , who were in charge of mustering allies for military service203 from the surrounding region. Xenophon’s organization of the hunt and gathering of neighboring inhabitants at his festival would have familiarized him with those able to serve. The practical benefits of Xenophon’s cult should not detract from the motives of piety behind the foundation. Although Xenophon portrays his sanctuary as one abundantly supported by its natural surroundings, maintaining a sanctuary was not an easy task and the self-sacrifice involved attests to his piety. He circumvents financial risk by designating a tenth of the estate’s produce for the yearly sacrifice, but the maintenance and administration must have required much of his time and profits from the estate to manage them. While state cults employed a variety of officials to manage a cult, the private founder bore the responsibility on his own. Xenophon had a number of tasks to do or to delegate to others: temple maintenance, sacrifice, organization of processions and the feast, and records of profits with computation of a tithe. In small cities, these duties were sometimes carried out by one official,204 for whom they no doubt could be challenging and time consuming. As we shall see, the care of the statue of Artemis would be entrusted to a female official. Xenophon himself probably took on the unpleasant task of maintaining order and sanctity within his shrine and guarding against pollution and destruction of the property by visitors and trespassers.205 One of the benefits of Xenophon’s cult that is frequently overlooked is that it granted him a freedom to sacrifice that may have been impossible otherwise: the foundation of his cult was perhaps necessary to ensure full participation in worship. Contrary to Delebecque’s notion that Xenophon was placed at a disadvantage by his “installment,” most exiles probably preferred to settle somewhere other than the city that sheltered them in a crisis, so that they could worship their own gods free from restrictions on foreigners.206 Agesilaus himself may have encouraged Xenophon’s foundation or revival of a cult to Artemis, and not only for the practical and political reasons discussed above. His associations with the goddess suggest that he himself was devoted to her. Xenophon and Plutarch mention that he attempted to sacrifice to Artemis at Aulis just before crossing over to Asia but was prevented by the Thebans, who took offense at his apparent desire to emulate Agamemnon and violently cast the victims from the altar.207 Plutarch adds that Artemis appeared to Agesilaus in a dream and demanded that he sacrifice his daughter (just as she did for Agamemnon). After this incident, Agesilaus left immediately, and after


collecting his troops at Geraestus, sailed to Ephesus.208 Did Agesilaus finally complete a sacrifice in Ephesus? We later hear of his dedication of garlands,209 and that he camped near a shrine of Artemis in Astyra.210 These instances may not be sufficient to prove that Agesilaus’s devotion to Artemis influenced Xenophon in his decision to invest the tithe money in a shrine to Artemis (rather than in a less complicated dedication to her temple at Ephesus), but they do suggest that his piety would not permit him to disapprove of it. Xenophon’s cult as well as his presence in Scillus may have served the Spartans who sent him there, and his political ties and friendship with Agesilaus coincided with his religious motives to honor the goddess. In summary, Xenophon may have expanded and revived an ancient cult once tended by Scilluntians or Eleans ousted during the political turmoil of Elis. The sanctuary at Olympia, although “controlled” by Elis, traditionally helped to unite the interests and resources of Elis and the surrounding communities. Xenophon’s sanctuary only two and a half miles away, by its accessibility and non-political status, was reminiscent of Olympia’s non-partisan interests and served practical and religious needs of the community as well as of the Spartans. For the Spartans, Xenophon was a link to Olympia and to their new allies; for the Scilluntians, he was a representative of the conquering Spartans and yet an autonomous non-citizen landowner who could mediate between political as well as religious institutions. His political interests coincided with those of other landowners at Scillus as well as with the Spartans, his benefactors. His sanctuary honored a goddess at once cosmopolitan and local; the Ephesian Artemis at Scillus resembled the one at Ephesus in image and temple, but she directed her powers toward protecting and feasting the local inhabitants. The shrine’s independence of polis administration together with its abundant means of support may have made it a focus of social cohesiveness comparable to and synergistic with Olympia. PROCEDURES OF FOUNDATION AND ELEMENTS OF WORSHIP: THE SANCTION OF THE GOD Anab. 5.3.7:

Xenophon does not specify what god ordained the site of the cult, but most scholars assume that it was Apollo at Delphi.211 Both literary and epigraphical sources indicate that Delphi was the most popular source of oracles in the classical period, and Xenophon had consulted this oracle before following

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Cyrus; to his question, the god responded that he should sacrifice to Zeus. It is necessary, however, to admit the possibility of a consultation at the Olympian sanctuary. Xenophon’s neglect to name Olympian Zeus may in fact be determined by an avoidance of redundancy after the repetition of twice in the preceding sentence. The obvious attractions of Olympia over Delphi were its proximity and the presence of Megabyzus at the time of the foundation, whose approval would further authorize the foundation of a branch of the Ephesian cult by Xenophon at Scillus. Megabyzus might also more easily be able to obtain a proxenos (representing Ephesus) at Olympia, while Xenophon, in exile from Athens, may have had difficulty obtaining an oracular consultation by himself. And Delphi was not open for oracular consultation at all times,212 whereas Olympia’s oracle was surely accessible around the time of the festival. Although the Eleans controlled the Olympian sanctuary and games, two hereditary priesthoods which were not necessarily bound to Elis managed the oracle at Olympia. Inscriptions suggest that these priests originated from Elis and Pisatis, but mythical tradition associates them with Arcadia and Triphylia and regions to the south.213 According to Strabo, the sanctuary first achieved its fame through its oracle.214 Almost a century before Xenophon’s foundation, Pindar215 wrote of the oracle’s inception and indicated that the oracular method used there was observation of omens during burnt sacrifice, while the consultors were often athletes competing in the games.216 Herodotus recounts a legend about the father of Pisistratus obtaining omens from a sacrifice at Olympia which advised against raising a son.217 Parke notes that this omen is not sought out in an official consultation, nor interpreted by a professional priest, but rather a bystander, the famous Spartan, Chilon; the legend thus combines traditions celebrating the fame of the Olympian oracle for its omens from sacrifices and of the sage, Chilon, for his foresight and wisdom.218 Sophoclean tragedy also attests the fame of the oracle,219 but Xenophon himself is our most important source. Xenophon lists among the reasons for Lacedaemonian hostility toward the Eleans the occasion on which the Eleans prevented Agis from consulting Zeus’s oracle concerning war against other Greeks, probably ca. 414 B.C.:220

And when Agis was sent to sacrifice to Zeus in accordance with an oracle, the Eleans prevented him from praying for victory in war, citing the ancient custom that Greeks do not consult the oracle about war against Greeks.


The mention of sacrifice to Zeus and the words, “praying for victory in war” and “to consult the oracle” suggest that the procedure entailed a proposal by the inquirer which was either confirmed or denied through omens of sacrifice.222 Xenophon again tells of a Spartan king consulting the Olympian oracle, around the same time as the foundation of his sanctuary: in 388, Agesipolis received approval for breaking a sacred truce repeatedly called into force by the Argives, and then obtained approval from Delphi as well, having asked whether Apollo concurred with his father.223 While Parke reads the passage as proof that Olympia’s oracle had little authority at this time,224 when the same story is mentioned in Aristotle’s Rhetoric,225 perhaps within fifty years of the event, it is used as an example of persuasion by means of citing an undeniable authority. It is likely that Apollo’s approval was sought to secure further public as well as divine sanction for a potentially impious act. Oracles provided not only the judgment of the divinity, but also the tacit approval or at least acknowledgement of human bystanders. Hence Xenophon’s consultation during the Olympic games might have attracted publicity and witnesses whose presence would hinder unfair interpretation of the omens and help to validate his claims to found a sanctuary on formerly Elean land. Finally, Xenophon’s devotion to Zeus in the Anabasis, including observation of sacrificial victims in order to discern his will, suggests that this type of consultation of the god at Olympia would not be out of character. In 355, Xenophon suggested in one of his works reforms of state policies for the Athenians and advised them to consult Dodona and Delphi to ask which gods they should win over so that they might succeed.226 Parke proposes political circumstances as the reason for this, since the Phocians were taking over Delphi and tensions that would lead to the Sacred War were beginning.227 The mention of Dodona may also have something to do with an Athenian tradition of consulting Dodona at times, although use of the Delphic oracle is better attested. Demosthenes claims that one of the oracles he quotes is from Dodona, and the Thracians received enktesis upon Dodona’s approval in the fifth century.228 Dodona and Olympia may not have been as popular and conventional as Delphi for oracular consultation, but since Apollo was, after all, the “mouthpiece of Zeus,”229 a consultation of Zeus’s oracle might be considered preferable or at least unobjectionable. Counterbalancing the reasons for a consultation at Olympia are equally significant arguments for a Delphic oracle. We have seen that Xenophon consulted this oracle before setting out for Asia and had dedicated half of his tithe to Apollo there. Sparta used the Delphic oracle frequently,230 and in extant sources, Delphi more than any other oracle is associated with advice or approval concerning cult innovations. Whether the oracle was given at Olympia or Delphi, it must have helped Xenophon in reconciling the Scilluntians to his purchase of a fertile estate in their territory. If Xenophon bought the land of a cult that had been neglected, the Scilluntians may have been interested in the oracle and perhaps asked it to decide whether Xenophon should take over the site at all. A benefactor who wanted to

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expand or improve a preexisting state cult in mid-fourth-century Athens was represented at the oracle by officials of the polis. An Athenian citizen (and relative of Demosthenes) dedicated his house and garden to Asclepius at Athens and (if the restorations are correct) was ordered to serve as his priest by an oracle to the Athenian demos.

The god proclaimed to the demos of the Athenians that they should dedicate the house of Demon and the adjacent garden to Asclepius, and that Demon himself should be his priest. The priest Demon son of Demomeles of Paiania dedicated the house and garden at the order of the god, while the demos of the Athenians granted that he be the priest of Asclepius, in accordance with the oracle. In this case the polis’s concern was not a cult that had been neglected but one that may have needed more income, which it could acquire perhaps only by transgression of the traditional appointment of officials. The priesthood of Asclepius normally rotated among the tribes on an annual cycle and it is possible that Demon wanted to be priest and offered his property in return for an extraordinary appointment, which required oracular sanction.232 Instead of constructing a temple or altar, Demon dedicates a garden and a building to be used as a means of income,233 and perhaps to house visitors to the shrine. His contribution resembles Xenophon’s in his generosity toward a community cult, but lacks the ritual significance that Xenophon’s altar, temple, and cult image had. Regardless of what existed on the site before Xenophon arrived, his erection of these structures makes him more like a cult founder than a benefactor of a preexisting cult. It is possible, however, that the Scilluntians demanded oracular approval for Xenophon’s cult as the Athenians did for Demon’s dedication. , which is Xenophon indicates the oracular response with the term, seen frequently in Classical literature and inscriptions citing oracles.234 It is more difficult to find parallels for an oracle referring to the site of a cult, understandably, since the oracle was needed to sanction religious innovation or change, which was often not directly connected to a specific location but rather to a practice such as new sacrifices or cult objects. Parallels of other historical oracles, including Mnesiepes’s, discussed above, suggest that Xenophon had decided on the site for the cult before he consul ed the oracle. Inquirers generally ask an oracle for approval of a preconceived plan, whether concerning cult or


other matters. Xenophon says that he had asked the Delphic oracle to which god should he sacrifice so that his journey turn out well, and Socrates berated him for not asking whether or not he should go on the journey.235 The extant questions to the oracle at Dodona, however, are normally phrased in the formula given by Xenophon, and therefore probably equally common at Delphi.236 Occasionally, however, inscriptions make it clear that the oracle was presented with alternatives and was asked to choose. In Hellenistic Anaphe (ca. 110–100), a certain Timotheus asks the Delphic oracle “whether is better and more favorable” to ask the city for a place in the sanctuary of Apollo Asgelatas where he can build a temple to Aphrodite, or rather in the sanctuary of Asclepius. The oracle chooses Apollo’s sanctuary.237 But it is unlikely that Xenophon presented the oracle with a choice between two places, given the circumstances of his “settlement” at Scillus. Xenophon stresses what seem to be supernatural points of similarity between his and the Ephesian sanctuary when he records the coincidence in the name and character of the rivers that flow through the sanctuaries at Ephesus and Scillus. Both are called Selinous, and both contain fish and mussels.238 It is more likely that Xenophon himself noticed this coincidence and pointed it out in his request to the oracle than that the oracle mentioned it, in accordance with the usual oracular response of approval rather than active advice. According to Fontenrose, the response to Xenophon was similar to the following, “Buy for Artemis the indicated estate (at Scillus on the Selinous river).”239 The river name at Scillus is attested first in Xenophon. At Ephesus there were apparently two rivers by that name, one flowing from the east, the other from the south.240 Strabo apparently knows of the river at Scillus through Xenophon’s passage and indicates that the name is not uncommon for rivers elsewhere.241 Burkert insightfully remarks that Xenophon’s land seemed to have been “destined for Artemis’s sanctuary by superhuman intelligence,” and yet required a human to discover and interpret the coincidence.242 Xenophon’s oracle provides a contrast with those given to oikists, who sought approval before founding cities and cults and sometimes received advice concerning the site of the colony,243 but seem to have chosen the site of their sanctuaries according to practical considerations.244 Oikists often did not know where they should settle245 whereas cult founders probably already had a place intended for the cult. And as city planners, oikists set up shrines according to what they found upon arrival, having already acquired the god’s sanction for their future decisions. Xenophon himself portrays Socrates saying that shrines should be very conspicuous and off the beaten path, because such a site is pleasurable in that it enhances the experience of vision during worship and encourages pious behavior of pilgrims as they approach:

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.246 like could mean “manifest” and “visible” or “distinguished.” It is possible that when these adjectives refer to a sacred place, they describe a place suitable for a god to appear as well as conspicuous to the human eye. The site of the shrine may be a place where an epiphany may occur or has occurred, a place that would be pleasing to the divinity and thus “pleasant to look at while praying, and pleasant to approach in a pure state of mind.” Xenophon’s account of his shrine and its surrounding land sounds like the type of site he describes in Memorabilia. It is worthy of an epiphany as well as conspicuous in its beauty, the sort of place that Artemis would enjoy, as visitors might imagine when they viewed the estate during prayer, sacrifice, and hunting. PARALLELS OF BRANCH CULTS Xenophon does not say exactly how he established his shrine, mentioning only that “he bought land for the goddess where the god ordained” and “built an altar and temple.”247 A survey of precedents for branch cults of the Artemisium at Ephesus248 will help us to reconstruct the possible procedures and rituals of Xenophon’s foundation. The earliest known offshoot was established at Massalia in southern France ca. 600 B.C. or soon after ca. 540 by Phocaean colonists who were under an oracular order to obtain a leader for their journey from Artemis at Ephesus. They secured the guidance of an Ephesian woman, Aristarcha, who had received corresponding orders from the goddess in a dream to take an aphidruma from the sacred objects ( ) and to go with the Phocaeans. The term aphidruma refers to any object from a cult that is transferred to a branch cult, often a statue, ashes, or cinders from an altar.249 Aristarcha accordingly took a certain object from the temple and upon arrival in Massalia, set it up and became priestess of the cult of Artemis of Ephesus.250 When the Massalians founded new colonies at Hemeroscopium and Emporium in Iberia and Rhode in Gaul, they established rites and statues there copied directly from their mother city.251 The colonists of Massalia are highly unusual in their transfer of a cult that did not exist in their mother city. Xenophon likewise brought the cult not from home, but from a foreign city to a new home. In both cases it is likely that an intermediary representing the mother cult was considered necessary in addition to the usual sanction of an oracle; the epithet, “Ephesian,” would best fit the goddess of a cult founded by a non-Ephesian if a link to Ephesus was established. It is likely that when Xenophon sent word to Megabyzus to bring his money to Scillus, he also informed him of his intention to found the cult. The parallel of Massalia suggests that the priest would have brought in addition an aphidruma to Xenophon. Strabo’s emphasis on the preservation of the statue’s design by this and further branches of the cult indicates that Aristarcha took to Massalia a statue from those kept in the temple at Ephesus.252 Xenophon used a copy of the Ephesian statue and may have obtained one from Ephesus, as will be discussed further below.


The tradition of the Massalian foundation also raises the possibility that Megabyzus appointed or helped to appoint a cult official for Xenophon’s shrine. Malkin suggests that Aristarcha was chosen in order to care for the cult image both on the journey and in Massalia.253 The duty of washing and dressing statues was frequently assigned to women in the Greek world.254 If Xenophon’s wife or other member of his household was not considered suitable for the duty, it is possible that a female attendant or priestess was brought from Ephesus. Other types of officials could also be transferred from a mother cult to a new branch. For a contemporary (early fourth-century) cult foundation dedicated to Leto in Lycia, an oracle required that a Greek man be brought to Lycia and appointed to manage the cult.255 This measure may have been taken to prevent non-Greek customs from intruding into the cult, which was the site of another (unknown) divinity previously. But a later foundation of a cult at Magnesia on the Maeander presents a parallel in which only Greeks are involved. An oracle recorded in the first century A.D. but dating from a period before the mid-third century B.C. advised the Magnesians to set up a cult to Dionysus and to fetch maenads from Thebes to “give over the rites and customs and to set up thiasoi.”256 The inscription names them, the thiasoi founded by them, and the sites of their burial. The inquiry to the oracle was provoked by the discovery of an image in a tree. Private initiative may have had some role in the establishment of this cult, whether an individual set the image in the tree “to obtain public recognition of his cult,”257 or simply found it and reported it to public officials. In any case, the procedure suggests that neither state nor private initiative confers complete religious authority on organizers of non-indigenous cults. Xenophon, like the Magnesians, may have been advised to employ an attendant or other official from the city of the mother cult. Sometime before the mid-fourth century, a cult to Artemis was established at Sardis by Ephesians: IEph 1a 2 (ca. 340–320) condemns forty-five Sardians to death for sacrilege against a sacred embassy on a traditional pilgrimage from Ephesus involving chitons for Artemis. The inscription states that the “Ephesians” had founded a branch of the cult of Artemis in Sardis ( , 8–9).258 Lydian funerary stelae appear at Sardis as early as ca. 520–500 B.C., invoking Artemis of Ephesus as guardian of the dead, but it is unknown whether she had her own sanctuary at this time.259 Artemis was worshipped at Sardis also as Sardiniane and Koloene, but appears often without epithet. A Sardis relief dated to ca. 400 B.C. shows two people worshipping Artemis holding a stag beside Cybele, who holds a lion; the goddesses stand on a platform perhaps representing the front of a temple,260 but it is unknown which Artemis this one represents. If she is Ephesia, the monument provides a parallel to Xenophon’s conception of the goddess as huntress. While Knibbe, Hanfmann, and Waldbaum interpret the Ephesian cult transfer as a state act indicating Sardis’s official acceptance of Ephesian Artemis, Fleischer notes the divergence in the appearance of the Sardian Artemis statues from those of the Ephesian Artemis and proposes that

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the Ephesian initiative resulted in a small local cult separate from the state cult of Artemis of Sardis.261 The “Ephesians” who are said to have established the cult may therefore be private individuals who had moved to Sardis, analogous to the Thracians who moved to Athens and received permission to establish there a private cult to their own goddess, which eventually played a role in state religion.262 Xenophon may have encountered this cult when he came to Sardis at the beginning of the Cyrean expedition,263 but if Fleischer is correct, the goddess mentioned by Xenophon at whose altar Orontes took refuge264 must have been the Sardian Artemis. Finally, a cult was founded in Alea, and M. Jost suggests that the Arcadian mercenaries among the Cyreans may have been responsible.265 Pausanias mentions the cult briefly,266 and coins struck by Alea between 430 and 370 B.C. show Artemis in profile on the obverse, and a strung bow on the reverse.267 Jost notes that this Artemis looks nothing like the Ephesian goddess, and proposes that the Ephesian cult was grafted onto a preexisting Artemis cult, retaining the appearance of the Artemis popular in Arcadia.268 Was Xenophon’s mention of the likeness of his statue and temple to those at Ephesus meant to assert the authenticity of his cult over the Arcadian branch? Unfortunately, Pausanias provides the only evidence that this Artemis was called Ephesian, and no signs of a temple have been found in excavations.269 While Jost’s proposal provides an attractive parallel to Xenophon’s foundation, it must be admitted that the Ephesian cult could have been founded much later. There is really no secure testimony of the Ephesian Artemis’s cult in the Peloponnese before Xenophon’s. Later worship is attested by a statue at Megalopolis,270 and a statue271 and coins272 at Corinth. Picard proposes an early transformation of Ephesia into local goddesses, encouraged by ethnic links between lonia, Phrygia, and Pelops, as well as the exile of the Ephesian prince, Pindarus, who fled to the Peloponnese in 559 from the invasion of Croesus. According to Picard, Pindarus may have transported the cult of Artemis to Sparta, which then became the cult of Orthia.273 Archaic iconography of Artemis Orthia does display oriental characteristics, probably, however, reflecting the orientalizing trend which spread throughout the mainland in the Archaic period, rather than as a result of direct transfer of the cult from the East. Nilsson considers the Peloponnesian Artemis closely related to Demeter and Despoina, retaining traits of Mycenaean goddesses and “barbarian” deities connected to water.274 Whatever the origin of this goddess, there is no explicit evidence to suggest that the Peloponnesians thought she came from Ephesus. By the Roman period, the examples set by Xenophon and his predecessors had developed into a universal trend. The spread of the cult of Artemis Ephesia throughout the ancient Mediterranean receives comment in an inscription of ca. A.D. 162–164 which states that temples and altars have been set up by Greeks and non-Greeks alike due to her “visible epiphanies” ( ).275 This statement is made in an Ephesian decree that extends and renews the worship of Artemis in Ephesus throughout the whole month of Artemision. A


century or so earlier, we hear of an Ephesian silversmith making a similar claim for the universal worship of the goddess, “whom all of Asia and the inhabited world worship,” in his efforts to arouse indignation at the threat to Ephesian craftsmen by Christian evangelists.276 A more objective source is Pausanias, who says in the second century A.D., All cities recognize Ephesian Artemis, and men individually honor her above all the gods. I think the reason is the fame of the Amazons who have the reputation of having set up the statue, and also the fact that this sanctuary was built very long ago. Three other things have contributed to make it famous: the size of the temple which surpasses all human constructions, the flourishing of the Ephesians’ city, and the goddess’s manifest appearance ( ) in it.277 Despite the lateness of the source, some of the evidence it provides is valid for Xenophon’s time: the temple’s great size and the city’s prosperity had already stimulated the spread of the cult by the Classical period. The association with the Amazons dates to at least as early as Pindar,278 while the goddess’s epiphanies are attested (although by a late source) in Aristarcha’s dream. Xenophon may have known of the cults at Sardis and Massalia (and Alea, if it existed). In these foundations, private initiative seems to have played a greater role than state initiative: the Ephesians who established the cult at Sardis were probably individual immigrants from Ephesus; the colonists of Massalia who received the oracle were representatives of Phocaea, not Ephesus, while the priestess purportedly acted as an individual in obedience to a dream epiphany, although ultimately representing the state cult of Ephesus in the state cult of Massalia. Politics and public officials do not seem to be directly involved in the spread of the Ephesian cult. Cults of Attica which contributed to offshoots at Athens or the demes may have provided models of branch cult foundations for Xenophon. For example, the shrines of the Eleusinian goddesses in Athens and the demes permitted worshippers access to the cult without travelling to Eleusis and increased the prestige of the more ancient sanctuary.279 The Eleusinian goddesses as well as Artemis Ephesia were associated with specific cult sites and yet Panhellenic; they were also worshipped without their geographical epithets elsewhere. The recognition of the powers and qualities manifested by a divinity in a specific place was probably considered a significant component of piety; just as it was impious to neglect any Olympian god, so too it was impious to ignore a power or quality of a god. While cult sites such as Eleusis and Ephesus were meaningful to worshippers for their experiences at those places, their branch cults served not

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only as reminders and extensions of their experiences and worship there, but also as gifts owed to their deities: Artemis was particularly powerful at Ephesus, and, it was assumed, liked to be honored for the qualities that she expressed there. THE STATUE Anab. 5.3.12:

Strabo’s accounts of the Massalian branch and the other subsidiary cults of Artemis Ephesia show that there were two ways in which branch cults could acquire cult images: a statue from the mother cult could be transferred, as by the Phocaeans, or a copy of the image from the mother cult could be made, as by the later colonists from Massalia.280 Callimachus’s Hymn to Artemis depicts the erection of a statue as the first act of the Amazons as founders of the Ephesian sanctuary.281 This testimony and the Massalian tradition suggest that the erection of an image derived from the mother cult was an important element in a cult foundation for Artemis Ephesia.282 Malkin believes that Xenophon’s emphasis on his statue’s likeness to the Ephesian image indicates that his statue was brought to him from Ephesus.283 Megabyzus certainly must have brought something to assist in the cult’s foundation. The transfer of fire or a symbol of home fire was a common element in colonial as well as cult migrations in general.284 Given the difficulties of transport, it is possible that a small copy of the cult statue was brought and used as a model for Xenophon’s cult statue and the aphidruma brought by Megabyzus was ash from the Ephesian altar or some other portable symbol of the cult. The Ephesian cult statue probably originated in the second half of the sixth century B.C.285 and portrayed the goddess wearing a polos and belted chiton with diamond pattern. She stood straight with her arms stretched down her sides with elbows projecting out from the waist and her hands holding ribbons. Most of the surviving images come from the Roman period, but Fleischer has proposed that the earlier image stood in this position, and received a changeable wardrobe that evolved into the ornamented chest garment of the goddess in Hellenistic times.286 Xenophon’s statement that the Ephesian statue was made of gold contradicts Pliny and Vitruvius, who say that it was wooden.287 The statue may have been replaced and made of different material after Xenophon’s time. It is also possible that golden plates once covered the statue288 or copies of the statue, such as on a statuette of a priestess of Artemis Chitone found at the Ephesian Artemisium, whose wooden core is covered with a gold-tin alloy.289 And the adornment of the statue with gold ornaments no doubt gave the impression that the statue itself


was golden.290 Xenophon says the image of Artemis in his cult is like that the Ephesian statue, and while he probably intends this to refer to its shape and general iconography, he may also be alluding to its color, since cypress wood is often a shade of golden orange. This type of wood may have had some cultic significance at the time. Picard notes that cypress was important in the Ephesian cult by the Roman period (and perhaps much earlier), when a chariot of cypress wood carried the image of the goddess in procession.291 While Classical Athenian iconography, literature, and myth frequently portray Artemis as a youthful huntress, Ephesian Artemis does not fully assume this role in iconography until Hellenistic and Roman times,292 but we shall see that she, like the mainland Artemis, was probably conceived of as a huntress in addition to her other attributes and iconography. And her association with deer appears during Xenophon’s time on coins, though not in direct contact with her image: the forepart of a stag and a palm tree was added to the reverse of Ephesian tetradrachms ca. 391/390 B.C.293 The representations of deer on coins may symbolize the Ephesian goddess’s native identity as Mistress of Nature and Mother Goddess,294 but Mainland Greek contacts were no doubt also influential, especially following the fifth- and early fourth-century occupation and intervention in Ephesian affairs by both Spartans and Athenians. While Xenophon followed Ephesian iconography in his cult image, the stag on the coins may have encouraged him to think of the hunt as an honor pleasing to the Ephesian goddess. THE TEMPLE Anab.5.3.9:

The temple at Ephesus in Xenophon’s time had been built with Croesus’s support (Artemisium D), beginning ca. 550. It has been theoretically reconstructed on the basis of architectural fragments and to some extent through literary and numismatic depictions295 of the later temple (Artemisium E, built in the second half of the fourth century B.C.), which followed the older temple closely in design. Like contemporary temples, the one at Ephesus was painted with bright colors, especially red and blue.296 The temple was constructed of marble in lonic style, and was exceptional in its size (115 meters in length, 50 meters in width). Nearly contemporary and almost equal in size to the Ephesian Artemisium was the temple of Hera in Samos, begun ca. 570 and expanded by the tyrant Polycrates (538–522). Both temples had multiple rows of columns surrounding the cella and displayed full use of the lonic order. The Ephesian temple had been enlarged in the post-Archaic period, but it is still unclear

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whether a third row of columns was added in the fifth or second half of the fourth century, to Temple E.297 The use of relief throughout the temple was unique. Its column bases bore sculpted representations of bulls and figures in a procession. Bammer suggests that these square drums at the bottom of the columns were balanced with a band of relief at the top, beneath the capital and conforming to the curve of the column.298 Another unparalleled feature of the temple was the location of a frieze on the sima, portraying both mythical themes, the trials of Heracles and the Trojan War, as well as scenes from everyday life, such as wagon-driving and feasting. Below this frieze were the cornice and dentils, where a frieze more commonly appeared on Classical temples.299 Within the temple walls was a smaller building containing the cult statue. It has been proposed that the temple lacked a roof and that the walls thus enclosed a large courtyard open to the sky, but this is uncertain.300 The entrance to the temple faced west (a characteristic of Artemis sanctuaries elsewhere, for example, at Magnesia and Sardis), with an altar screened on three sides and open only to the west, perpendicular to the temple on a north-south orientation.301 Xenophon implies that his temple was a copy of the Ephesian temple in miniature, but it is unlikely that he could have had it constructed to conform exactly to the Ephesian temple in proportions as well as other features, because of both building conventions and the size. Although models of temples were common in the Archaic period, and miniatures of the Ephesian temple were sold at the sanctuary in the first century A.D., they were not used by architects.302 (These replicas were perhaps dedications,303 suggesting that worshippers viewed temples as a worthy gifts to gods and substituted miniature models as an inexpensive alternative.) The usual method that was employed to commission a building was to write up a contract that specified measurements, building materials, and techniques diverging from the norm. Architects did not use drawings or other images but instead followed conventions learned during training and everyday observation.304 Each building differed due to improvisation according to need as the work progressed, and proportions were dependent on size specifications and not instructions stipulating ratios.305 If Xenophon followed the usual procedure, he gave the architect measurements and some details designating instructions for elements dissimilar to other temples in the region. There is, however, a possibility that the Ephesian sanctuary’s extraordinary fame provided another option for architectural planning. In the sixth century, a treatise on the Ephesian temple’s architecture was written that recorded the problems encountered in building the huge structure on marshy ground and may have included also the temple’s proportions and other details.306 Xenophon knew of an Athenian sophist whose library included a book on architecture,307 and so it is possible that the Ephesian temple treatise was studied by architects of the Classical period, or that Xenophon had the work himself. His contract, then,


could incorporate certain details specified in the treatise while ordering reduced dimensions. Xenophon may have tried to copy the general proportions of the temple, especially if the treatise on the temple was available to him or his architect. The Ephesian temple probably had eight columns in the front, nine in the rear, and twenty-one along the sides,308 which might be reduced to three, four, and seven. From memory309 he could order the lonic style columns and entablature and the western orientation of the temple. The use of sculpted relief would for the most part be simplified and rendered in paint rather than carving. It is unlikely that marble was the sole building material of the Scillus temple as it was at Ephesus. Xenophon indicates in Memorabilia that the use of stone at the base and the top, with bricks and wood in between, was the norm for buildings in his time, and Pausanias mentions that Lepreon, a Triphylian town near Scillus, had a temple of Demeter constructed entirely of bricks.310 Several local sanctuaries, including Olympia, used the local limestone, a cheap alternative to importing finer building materials.311 This stone was usually full of fossil shells, and if Xenophon used it, he may have taken pride in another coincidence between his and the Ephesian shrine: Artemis at Ephesus received as dedications numerous shells that Picard suggests were fished out of the nearby Selinous river.312 Xenophon probably spent a minimal amount on building materials and most of it on skilled labor,313 perhaps relatively easy to find given the proximity of Olympia. THE TEMENOS AND ESTATE Anab. 5.3.11:

A park surrounded the temple of Artemis at Ephesus, unfortunately not described until the Hellenistic period.314 Xenophon tells us more of the grounds surrounding his own temple than of the temple itself. Meadows, wooded mountains, and groves are all frequently associated with Artemis as goddess of nature, purity, and fertility.315 These features existed at Ephesus and may have been considered as important as the temple and statue in the miniature copy of the mother cult.316 Xenophon’s park is compared most often not to the Ephesian sanctuary estate, but rather to Persian which Xenophon himself describes in several of his works.317 These “walled around” parks contained gardens and orchards with trees planted in straight rows, as well as hunting grounds for the Persian royalty. Xenophon is thought to have been the first to create one on the Greek mainland at

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Scillus.318 While he may have been influenced by Persian arrangements of ornamental gardens,319 he does not refer to his estate by this term but instead by the traditional phrase to designate a selfsupporting sacred estate, .320 His mention of the grove and cypress wood statue at Scillus in the same context may allude to the cypress grove at Ortygia near the Ephesian sanctuary that was sacred to Artemis.321 THE FESTIVAL Anab. 5.3.9:

The date of Xenophon’s festival is somewhat problematic. On the one hand, it is natural to assume that Xenophon adhered to the same date as for the Ephesian Artemisia, the birthday celebration of the goddess held on the sixth day of Artemision, since this date was recognized on the mainland as well as in Ephesus.322 This month was called Elaphebolion in Attica, where stag-shaped cakes were offered to the goddess on her birthday.323 It fell around the time of the spring equinox. There is no extant information about this month in Scillus,324 but it is likely that the calendar of Elis, observed by Olympia, was also observed there. Pausanias mentions the Elean month of Elaphius, beginning with the spring equinox, when Cronus received sacrifices,325 but the similarity to the Attic month name suggests a celebration also of Artemis. Strabo says that Artemis Elaphia as well as Artemis Alpheionia/Alpheiusa and Daphnia were celebrated with annual festivals at Olympia, but does not give the months.326 A problem with this date for Xenophon’s festival is that it falls at the time when animals are bearing their young. Hunting was not confined to any one season in antiquity,327 but a hunt in honor of Artemis in the spring reveals the contradiction in her functions as protectress of childbirth and the young as well as huntress: hunters would have to risk incurring divine wrath for killing pregnant or newly born animals as well as upsetting the ecology of the forests, although the latter was probably not a serious concern to them.328 It is possible that this date was established at locations and times where and when hunting was not part of the festival, although Aeschylus’s Agamemnon perhaps provides us with a vestige of the conflict when it portrays Artemis’s anger at eagles, who represent the sons of Atreus, destroying a pregnant hare and its offspring.329 It is true that the Cynegeticus, with the exception of an admonition to spare newborn hares for Artemis, shows no qualms about killing young or pregnant animals.330 If we assume that Xenophon is indeed the author of this work, he probably wrote this treatise prior to his departure from Athens and well before he had settled at


Scillus, as is suggested by its style as well as an apparent unfamiliarity with Asia in comparison to his other works.331 And the mention of sacred places where hunting is prohibited,332 but not of a place such as Scillus where the goddess was honored with a hunt on her land, suggests that Xenophon knew of no sanctuary like the one at Scillus. In any case, the treatise has little to do with hunting in honor of Artemis beyond acknowledging that she traditionally presides over animals and the hunt. Evidence from the Roman period is useful in its portrayal of how Artemis can be both a huntress and a protectress of animals, revealing perhaps how killing tamer animals was prohibited, especially in the immediate vicinity of Xenophon’s temple, but hunting of large and wild game was permitted on the grounds surrounding the temenos. Philostratus portrays hunters singing near a temple containing a worn and ancient statue and heads of animals of the chase, boars and bears: And as they [the hunters] go forth they will sing Agrotera: for a temple of hers is there, and a statue worn with age, and heads of boars and bears; animals consecrated to her are grazing: fawns, wolves and hares, all tame and fearless of men. After a prayer they continue their hunt.333 The hunters proceed to hunt down a boar, ignoring the tame animals near the temple. The passage implies that Artemis protected some animals, but enjoyed receiving spoils of others, here, of the boar and the bear. For Xenophon’s festival, wild animals, deer and boar, were hunted outside of the temple area, while smaller and tamer animals near her temple were probably spared. A summer festival, however, is more plausible for other reasons. An abundance of full-grown animals would certainly be preferable for feeding the festival’s visitors. Modern hunters prefer to hunt in the fall, when animals are not infested with insects and are out looking for food without being concealed by thick foliage. The Cynegeticus, however, indicates that summer was considered a suitable time for hunting of deer as well as boar,334 the animals that Xenophon says were hunted at his festival. And a summer festival soon after the Olympic games would be appropriate to inaugurate the cult, while Megabyzus was present, and thereafter to commemorate the occasion on the same day. Since architects usually did not expect to be paid at the outset of their work,335 it is quite possible that the construction of the altar and temple had begun and were sufficiently installed by the time Megabyzus arrived so that a foundation ceremony could take place, provided that Xenophon could afford to purchase or put a deposit on the small area of land on which they stood without his tithe money. Another advantage for this date is the possibility that every four years additional visitors from the Olympic games nearby would prolong their stay in the region to attend Xenophon’s festival. Further, figs were harvested in late July,336 and thus the season would assure an abundance of recently harvested fresh fruits ( ), easily providing the tragemata (snacks and

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desserts) mentioned by Xenophon. A spring date for the festival, while it would not necessarily contradict Xenophon’s statement that “the goddess provided those who pitched their tents with barley, bread, wine, and tragemata,” would involve extensive preservation of foods and add difficulties to feeding the festival participants. Xenophon was no doubt informed about the Ephesian festival by Megabyzus and other Ephesians, and may have witnessed one while he was at Ephesus in the spring of 395. A procession including priests appears on the column drums of the Ephesian temple contemporaneous with Xenophon337 and may represent ritual at the festival. In any case, communal sacrifice and feasting took place at Ephesus in the Classical period.338 By the early Hellenistic period, and perhaps in the Classical period as well, the Ephesian procession included the bearing of food offerings by a maiden and probably also the transport of Artemis’s image.339 The altar at Ephesus contained a square platform in one corner, thought to be used as a statue base during sacrifice so that Artemis could “watch” the ceremony.340 Mysteries and contests, some of which may have been held earlier, were added in the Hellenistic period.341 Xenophon probably included in his festival the transport of the statue in procession, which could be viewed after the foundation as a reenactment of Artemis’s arrival at her new sanctuary and temple in Scillus. A similar procession took place at the Hellenistic festival of Artemis at Magnesia, which introduced the cult image to a newly built temple and thereafter commemorated its transfer mimetically in procession.342 Whether the festival celebrated Artemis’s birthday or the anniversary of the foundation, another procession leading the animals toward the altar preliminary to sacrifice would be appropriate to present the sacrificial victims properly. At Ephesus, a sloping ramp that led to the altar was constructed over the marshy ground.343 This ramp may have been viewed as a practical rather than ritual necessity, but reinforced the ceremonial aspect of the approach to the altar with the sacrificial victims. Xenophon says nothing about a ramp leading to his altar, and it was probably not considered necessary, but the procession with sacrificial victims no doubt did advance from the same direction at every festival. The sacrifice at Scillus would probably take place in the presence of the goddess, represented by her statue near the altar. Contests in honor of the goddess may have been held as well, and will be discussed further in the context of the hunt. It has been said that Xenophon honored in his cult the Artemis of the mainland, with “Hellenic,” not Ephesian rituals; that is, even if Xenophon dedicated his cult specifically to Ephesian Artemis, he perceived in her “his own familiar goddess.”344 But the Ephesian Artemis resembled the mainland Artemis in all but appearance; she probably differed from the Hellenic Artemis in her cult statue and temple, but not in sacrificial ritual.345 Epithets occasionally indicate different types of images as well as honors due to gods, as, for example, Zeus Melichius required a different kind of sacrifice (a holocaust of pigs) than did Zeus Basileus in Xenophon’s Anabasis,346 but there is no evidence that this was the case for Ephesia in contrast to Artemis under other epithets. As on the


mainland, she received mostly goats at Ephesus in the Archaic period and probably later, as did Artemis on the mainland. Animals sacrificed and eaten at the sanctuary of Ephesus can be discerned from bones left there between 650– 550 B.C.; after this period remains are sparse, probably because it became common to clear away debris after sacrifice. In Ephesus as elsewhere goats were by far the most common sacrificial victim for Artemis, followed in order of frequency by cattle, sheep, and pigs, each five or more times as rare as goats.347 Goat horns found on the site may have been built into her altar at Ephesus as elsewhere.348 Xenophon is vague about the victims he sacrificed, indicating only that he had a sacred pasture that was “sufficient for feeding pigs, goats, and cattle.” Goats were the only victims offered to Artemis at her cult in Xenophon’s deme, Erchia, where she appears both without epithet and as Artemis-Hecate.349 Xenophon thus honored Artemis with the sacrificial victim that was her favorite at Ephesus as well as Attica, and perhaps added the others as more expensive350 occasional offerings or simply used them for secular feasts. The cattle, of course, could be used also and maybe only for plowing and other labor. The moist climate of the Elean region made it probably one of the best places for raising cattle as well as other domesticated animals in the Greek world.351 The Iliad’s Nestor boasts about his cattle raid in Elis, in which he also captured sheep, pigs, goats, and horses,352 the same animals mentioned by Xenophon, with the addition of sheep. The absence of sheep at Scillus but their occasional appearance at Ephesus may indicate that there was no strict law about victims except for goats that had to be sacrificed. Elsewhere, inscribed cult regulations suggest that prohibitions against sacrifice of certain victims rather than lists of all possible victims was the norm in sacrificial laws.353 Xenophon may have avoided sheep-raising simply because he had no need to become involved in the wool industry to supplement the income from his estate. THE HUNT Anab. 5.3.8:

The distance of Pholoe from Scillus, about fifteen kilometers,354 was substantial enough to necessitate an overnight trip, thus extending the duration of the honors to Artemis. Pholoe was a fitting place for hunts sacred to Artemis, but has no known connections to Ephesus. The mountain was a densely forested series of terraces on the southern and lower elevations of Mount Erymanthus,355 which

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Homer mentions as a place where Artemis delights in boars and deer.356 An epigram from the Greek Anthology, though much later than Xenophon, records a dedication from a hunt on Pholoe: Lycormas son Thearidas of Lasion took the deer as it was feeding around Ladon and the Erymanthian water and the ridges of Pholoe, striking it with his diamond-shaped spear tip; drawing off the skin and double antlers from its head, he placed them with the hunting maiden.357 Pholoe is first mentioned by Euripides358 as the home of centaurs visited by Heracles. Stesichorus portrays Heracles drinking with the centaur, Pholus, who, according to Apollodorus, entertained Heracles as he was passing through Pholoe on his way to the Erymanthian boar hunt.359 A Hellenistic dedicatory epigram describes Heracles treading “the headland of wellwooded Pholoe.”360 The mythical traditions associated with the mountain suggest that the landscape did in fact provide fertile hunting grounds, and perhaps larger and wilder game than did the estate at Scillus. The generic image of Artemis as huntress portrayed in art, legend, and literature was easily adapted to the Ephesian goddess by Xenophon, since Artemis was conceived as a huntress and a protectress of animals under any other epithet.361 The Prehellenic Ephesia was a leader and tamer of beasts similar to Homer’s Potnia Theron,362 and therefore the goddess could be honored with her traditional Ephesian iconography while she assumed the characteristics of a huntress. The contradiction implied in the epithet designating locality and its use at a different site did not seem to be a problem for the Greeks. Presumably the locality signified in the epithet could be interpreted as the origin and “home base” rather than the sole station of the goddess’s presence. Similarly, the “Samothracian Gods” spread from Samothrace to new locations in the Hellenistic period, but were still usually called by the same name.363 Remains from the Archaic period do in fact indicate that animals from the hunt formed a small part of the feasts at Artemis’s sanctuary at Ephesus, which may have continued similarly into Classical times. Bones of red deer, fallow deer, and gazelles show that these animals were eaten on the cult site, but amount to less than one percent of the bones found.364 Excavators of the temple at Ephesus have also found evidence for marble boars’ heads,365 perhaps simulating dedications of hunters. Thus the image and conception of Artemis as huntress fit Artemis at Scillus even if she was also called Ephesia.366 But there is no evidence for an organized hunt at Ephesian festivals. Xenophon does not connect his hunt to an Ephesian origin and given the small percentage of animals from the hunt at Ephesus it is likely that a hunt held especially for the festival was his innovation. The existence of sacred regulations shows that “ancestral custom” was considered the basis of worship throughout the Greek world, but that new honors and sacrifices could be added provided that the old traditions continued along with them. Xenophon therefore probably followed Megabyzus’s


advice on the basic requirements for sacrifice and festival ritual, and added the hunt with the approval of Megabyzus and the oracle. It is likely that Xenophon’s festival differed most from the Ephesian festival in its dependence on donations from the hunt rather than publicly provided sacrificial victims and other meat for the feast. R.Parker compares Xenophon’s festival to the Attic Diasia, which also relied on private contributions and was held outside the city.367 There were probably several informal local festivals in Attica upon which Xenophon could model the different aspects of his festival. For example the Apaturia festivals of Attic phratries included within their organized ceremonies opportunities for more spontaneous festivities by men, women, and children, which must have resembled the informal celebrations following sacrifice at Scillus.368 Private cult associations also held annual festivals supported by surrounding estates and attended by families.369 For his cult hunt, Xenophon may have had no concrete models to follow in Attica. A hunt as part of a festival celebration may have been considered traditional, but as far as we know, did not take place at festivals as did Xenophon’s. Spartan cults provided models of contests and choruses with greater participation by youths and adults than at Athens, where worshippers were more often observers of ritual.370 Intensive agricultural use of land resulted in the ideal rather than the practice of hunting prevailing in some areas of Classical Greece. For Athenians, hunting was not possible to the extent it was for the Peloponnesians. Attic vase paintings may reveal the decrease in the practice of hunting with a corresponding change in attitudes toward it. Archaic black figure vases portray the hunt somewhat realistically. The hunters are fully clothed and sometimes mounted; they chase their prey or carry their spoils on sticks in groups. In the early fifth century, the imagery changes: the hunter is often alone and scantily clad, perhaps representing a mythological hero.371 Occasional hunting of hares continued in Attica, although somewhat hindered by population increase and corresponding decrease in hunting land.372 But as the following discussion will reveal, the Athenians still clung to the idea of the hunt in the worship of Artemis, and Xenophon may have felt himself to be the envy of his former fellow-citizens in his ability to worship Artemis with a traditional hunt. Xenophon is often cited as one of the main sources in modern treatments of ancient hunting,373 but as mentioned above, it is unwise to connect his literary output on the subject with his hunt at Scillus and life in the Peloponnese. Xenophon advocated hunting as excellent training for war. His views in Cynegeticus were no doubt maintained by him in later years and suggest that he may have considered his hunt a contribution to the Scilluntian youths’ general education as well as to their ability to help their new military allies, the Spartans: “And so I urge youths not to despise hunting nor any other training. For from these things they become good in war and in other things from which thinking, speaking, and acting well must come.”374 Adults also benefit from hunting: “[Hunting] creates health for the body and makes vision and hearing better,

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decreases (effects of) growing old, and trains especially for war.”375 Xenophon gives examples of tasks that the hunter will be able to bear in war because of its similarity to hunting: carrying arms on the march, sleeping on the ground, attacking under orders, and maintaining stamina on rough ground and in forests.376 Hunting may not have played a significant role in Classical Athenian formal education,377 but Xenophon was able to put his ideals into practice at Scillus and perhaps to the benefit of the Peloponnesian League, by using the hunt to train and detect those fit for military recruitment. Unfortunately, Xenophon tells us all too little about how the hunt functioned in the context of worship. In his treatise on hunting, Xenophon says that, according to legend, the gods enjoy both the act and the sight of the hunt.378 Nilsson believes that cult practice honoring Artemis as huntress is rare because there is no annually recurring ritual motive for the hunt.379 But that the hunt was an appropriate activity for devotees of Artemis is made clear by Euripides’s Hippolytus; the jealous Aphrodite complains of the constant companionship of Artemis and Hippolytus, as they clear the wooded land of beasts with hounds.380 Upon his return from the fields, Hippolytus offers the goddess a garland and implies that he crowns her statue with it.381 Euripides neglects to mention any prey from the hunt, perhaps more intent on the symbolism of the cult of Artemis Euklea, to whom youths and maidens sacrificed before marriage, and of the cult to Hippolytus that Artemis prophesies at the end of the play.382 That hunters sang hymns to Artemis as Huntress is attested by both Hippolytus and Philostratus.383 Xenophon’s hunt in honor of Artemis therefore probably included hymns and perhaps gathering of greens for garlands. Another possible Athenian model, at least in respect to its name, is the “sacred hunt” mentioned in the Hypothesis to Demosthenes 25, ca. 332 B.C.: Hierocles was caught taking himatia out of a temple, and when charged with temple robbery, claimed that he was taking them to the sacred hunt ( ) on orders from his mother, the priestess. From Dinarchus 2. 12 we learn that Hierocles’s mother was the priestess of Brauronian Artemis. The sanctuary at Brauron was the site of a penteteric state festival as well as the arkteia, a puberty rite of passage and festival in which girls between the ages of five and ten “became bears,” i.e., imitated bears in service to Artemis, according to mythical tradition, in atonement for the killing of a tame bear in the sanctuary.384 Iconography from the Brauronian sanctuary links Artemis’s realms of hunting and children. Vases, statuary, and reliefs from the sanctuary portray Artemis as both huntress and kourotrophos, and statuettes of children holding small animals have also been found there.385 The hunt has been discussed in connection with fragments of krateriskoi of the third quarter of the fifth century to the early fourth century that depict girls running and dancing in the vicinity of an altar, perhaps representing a reenactment of a sacred hunt with Artemis.386 A border around the base of one fragment portrays an actual hunt, with dogs chasing a hare.387 Kahil interprets these paintings as representations of the arkteia, the initiatory ritual of girls serving as “bears” of Artemis,388 which in


some contexts may have been called the “sacred hunt.”389 The existence of a gymnasium and palaestra at the sanctuary raises the possibility that both physical training and competitions took place on the site.390 The ritual may have entailed a foot race and dancing391 or a dramatic enactment of Artemis and her companions in the hunt392 in which the girls wore the himatia that Hierocles was removing when apprehended.393 Xenophon was probably quite familiar with the Brauronian cult: the festival was a state affair with a procession from Athens to Brauron and may have included competitions of rhapsodes and chariot races, since there were stables for horses on the grounds.394 Mention of the festival and the bear ritual in Aristophanes implies that all citizens knew of the cult.395 Xenophon’s hunt was not at all similar to the mimetic hunt of girls at Brauron, if that interpretation is correct, but an Athenian ritual designated as a “hunt” held in honor of Artemis could have influenced Xenophon to establish at his festival a real hunt in imitation of the goddess’s exploits and as a ritual appropriate for youths. Xenophon also had the Athenian Elaphebolia as a model for worship of the Huntress as patroness of wild animals. At this festival of Artemis (“Deer-Shooter”), Artemis received cakes shaped like deer, assumed to be a substitution for earlier offerings of the animals.396 H.W.Parke believes the change in offering was necessitated in the Classical period by the scarcity of deer in Attica because of extensive construction and agriculture.397 P.Stengel notes the rarity of sacrifice of wild animals: even in the Odyssey, the gods receive no part of the deer that Odysseus shot.398 The reason, according to Stengel, is both practical and religious. First, it is difficult to drag a live animal to the altar; secondly, if the animal is killed in the field, it loses too much blood before reaching the altar and thus cannot satisfy the gods.399 Xenophon did not sacrifice game; he expresses a clear distinction between sacrificial meat from the sacred pasture and the meat from the hunt: .400 But it is quite possible that his feast including deer was modeled on the conception of offerings of deer to Artemis at the Elaphebolia in Athens.401 In his treatise on hunting, Xenophon recommends that hunters vow to Apollo and Artemis Agrotera a share of the hunt before they begin: ,….402 He gives no details about fulfillment of this vow, although, as mentioned above, he does mention that hunters leave newborn hares to the goddess ( ),403 more a concession than an offering. In the Roman period, Arrian says that a hunter should sacrifice to the goddess and dedicate the “first fruits,” to her: .404 The Hellenistic dedicatory 405 epigram on Pholoe quoted above portrays a hunter leaving the skin and antlers of a stag with the goddess. The language of the fourth verse,

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, is ambiguous, so that the dedication can be imagined as placed in the open field or in a shrine, since both are realms of Artemis. This and similar Hellenistic and Roman literature may reflect a long-standing tradition or beliefs about ancient customs. Images from vase painting also provide some evidence of hunt offerings. The skulls of animals often decorated temple or temenos walls, with swags of greens hung over them.406 The animal itself could be hung on a pillar or tree in the sanctuary,407 but probably the most common method of dedication was the suspension of parts of animals (antlers, heads, feet, or skins) on trees, pillars, or nailed to walls, as both visual evidence (although mostly from the Roman period) and Hellenis tic and Roman literary sources portray.408 It is likely that the trees in Xenophon’s grove were hung with similar offerings. The Peloponnesians worshipped Artemis as Huntress under various epithets,409 and Xenophon must have known of these cults through the Cyreans as well the Spartans and his neighbors in Scillus. Early archaeological evidence for offerings from the hunt come from Lusi in Arcadia. At a sanctuary of Artemis Hemera in use from the seventh to the first centuries B.C., teeth of bears and boars as well as deer antlers have been found,410 along with crafted objects including a small bronze dog and figurines of Artemis in hunting costume.411 A stone base with a level top may have served as a table for offerings,412 perhaps including spoils from the hunt. Remains from the Archaic sanctuary of Pan on Mount Lycaeum in Arcadia also provide evidence for hunt offerings and have led to conjectures concerning “ritualized hunting,” and feasts whereby youths were initiated into adulthood.413 Offerings found at this sanctuary include a bronze fox tied to a pole and statuettes of male figures carrying conventional sacrificial victims, a calf or a ram. One terracotta relief shows a naked, bearded hunter chasing a boar with a dog.414 The men portrayed on the dedications wear piloi, conical hats associated with both hunters and shepherds.415 The evidence suggests that hunters did dedicate offerings to Pan here, but tells us little about ritual. Xenophon wrote of Spartan hunts and perhaps was influenced by them in having hunting participants share their catch with the other visitors to the festival, just as Spartans traditionally shared their hunting catch with other members of the syssitia.416 But genuine hunts in the context of cult are unattested in Classical Sparta. In Hellenistic and Roman Sparta, boys participated in “hunting” contests in honor of Artemis Orthia. Victors dedicated plaques upon which were hung sickles, their prizes, and most included the date and their ages on the inscription. In the first century B.C., the earliest direct reference to the event, the contest was called , but by the first century A.D., .417 Like the Athenian arkteia, these contests probably mimic the act of hunting, perhaps in a dance.418 The Peloponnese was the site of several sanctuaries dedicated to Artemis as Huntress under different epithets, for example, Laphria, who was portrayed in hunting dress at Messene in the late Classical period.419 Cults similar to


Xenophon’s may have existed near Scillus. Pausanias (6.22.11) says that the Eleans call Artemis Elaphiaea because of the hunt, although the Eleans themselves trace the epithet to the name of a local woman who nursed Artemis; this festival may have resembled the Athenian Elaphobolia in its original form.420 At Olympia have been found figurines of Artemis as huntress and of deer and hounds, dating from the fifth century into the late Hellenistic period.421 It is possible that worship of Artemis in Scillus and the Elean region traditionally involved hunting which Xenophon revived or simply extended. There are, however, no epigraphic details about parallels to Xenophon’s hunting cult until the Hellenistic period, when Macedonia seems to have led the way with hunting associations centered around Heracles and visual imagery represents hunting in sacred groves; elsewhere Artemis was honored as the Huntress patroness of youth associations.422 By the Roman period, Xenophon’s cult, although then in ruins, was not forgotten and was apparently even imitated to some extent elsewhere. A second-century A.D. inscription found on Ithaca reproduces the inscription quoted by Xenophon, declaring the estate sacred to Artemis and prescribing the dedication of a tithe to her.423 Also in the second century A.D., Arrian, “the other Xenophon,” wrote a treatise on hunting and dedicated an altar to Artemis at Cordoba.424 The existence of mimetic hunts and hunt offerings in the Classical period suggests that Xenophon’s hunt could be considered a cultic act in addition to serving the pragmatic aim of supplying free food. W.Burkert says that a ritual must include “a programme of demonstrative acts to be performed in set sequence and often at a set place and time—sacred insofar as every omission or deviation arouses deep anxiety and calls forth sanctions.”425 Xenophon’s hunt, as far as we know, lacks rigid requirements of sequenced acts but does conform to this definition in that it was conducted at the same time and place every year, and probably began with a prayer to the goddess, included hymns and perhaps a collection of greens, and ended with a dedication of spoils to her. Like the dramas performed to please Dionysus in Athens, the hunt could vary in its particulars and entail rewards for those most skilled. Hunts associated with Artemis must have recalled in the minds of the participants the goddess’s enjoyment of the hunt as portrayed in literature and iconography. To what extent the act of hunting was perceived as an act of worship may have been a matter of individual interpretation, but it is conceivable that Xenophon and some of the hunters viewed their activity as an opportunity to commune with Artemis by engaging in her favorite pastime in her domain, in imitation of mythical heroes such as Hippolytus.426 And the honor to the goddess would have increased with the competitiveness of the hunt. The Ephesian festival included athletic contests by the late fourth century B.C.,427 and it is likely that competitive events took place there earlier and at Xenophon’s festival, although his neglect to mention them suggests that the contests there were informal. But spontaneous or occasional contests should not be ruled out. The Athenian and Spartan examples of festival competitions associated with hunting

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in name and iconography imply that the hunt was considered appropriate to ritual contest, and the memory or legends of ritual hunting may have lingered behind the athletic games or martial processions into which they had developed.428 Xenophon may have provided the best hunter (who slew the largest animal?) with a wreath or other prize. Wreathes were probably woven from the plants and trees on Artemis’s property, and Xenophon may have commis sioned local craftsmen or women to make these and other items, to be given away or sold at the festival.429 The collective hunts, sacrifices, and feasts together with shared participation in preparing for the festival and selling one’s goods there must have increased the popularity and community interest in the cult. The hunt adds to Xenophon’s festival one more opportunity for a procession. Vase paintings represent hunters carrying their catch on poles or sticks and indicate the importance of the display of the hunter’s success.430 The return of hunters to Xenophon’s shrine and their display of the spoils from the hunt could have formed a kind of procession in honor of the goddess and may have increased the sense of competition in the hunt. The hunters could then hang their spoils on trees or tables to display them as well as to cure the meat until it was needed for the feast. For the remainder of the festival, we can assume that Xenophon followed procedures common to other Greek cults; a purification ritual for hunters is a remote possibility, attested only by one late source.431 The use of tents mentioned by Xenophon suggest that the festival lasted more than one day and that the sanctuary was far from the homes of some visitors.432 Lamps found near the altar at Ephesus indicate that at least some sacrifices there took place at night.433 The verb, , however, also indicates dining under tents, which must have provided welcome shelter from sun or rain,434 and so the duration of the festival cannot be deduced from this word alone. It is possible that the visitors were fed first from the domesticated animals sacred to Artemis, and then from the hunted animals on subsequent days. THE INSCRIPTION Anab. 5.3.13:

It is unlikely that this is Xenophon’s dedicatory inscription. It lacks his name, Proxenos’s name (as appeared in the dedication to Apollo), mention of the tithe,


and Artemis’s epithet, Ephesia (although the epithet would not have been necessary to identify the goddess being honored here). The first sentence, “This land is sacred to Artemis,” resembles a horos inscription. In their simplest form, boundary stones name the god in the genitive, but sometimes the name is preceded by .435 Often, however, the sacred status of the property is emphasized with a word for the sanctuary or estate, but in the genitive: .436 The word designating the location in Xenophon’s inscription is in the nominative, and he appends to the declaration of Artemis’s ownership an injunction to the tenant of her land. Boundary stones also at times add sacred laws to the identification of the property. Not surprisingly, these stones bear instructions needed before entrance, such as prohibitions against access or harm of suppliants.437 Sacrificial regulations such as Xenophon’s would probably be erected separately and close to or within the temple. Xenophon says that his inscription was beside the temple and it is possible that this was near the boundary of the estate, so that the inscription served as a boundary marker as well as a sacred law. But whether or not this stone marked the physical boundary, it functioned as a sacred law that imposed a perpetual debt on the owner of the land. The inscription claims that if the holder of the land does not render an annual tithe to the goddess, “he will be a care” to her, in other words, she will take care of him. The verb when used in reference to a divinity usually designates divine protection438 and more rarely, violence. Significantly, Xenophon himself uses it in the Hellenica to predict the anger of a god and consequent destruction of a human offender. Jason of Pherae, Xenophon says, was planning to appropriate control of the Pythian festival. The Delphians were worried that he would also take over the sacred treasury and asked the oracle what they should do if that happened. “The god replied that it would be a care to himself.” .439 Immediately following this statement, Xenophon tells how Jason was killed by a group of youths.440 It is possible that the use of the phrase was popular enough to inspire Xenophon to copy it in his inscription, although exact parallels in other inscriptions and oracle collections are lacking.441 The inscribed words function as an admonition both to himself and to later holders of the land that it has been consecrated and therefore its produce does not belong entirely to the human owner. The first sentence, then, is a necessary component of the admonition: because the land is sacred to Artemis, the owner is obligated to offer her an annual tithe and to maintain her temple. The sacred law is more than a decorative formality, although as mentioned earlier, Xenophon as author did use its citation to serve his literary purposes, as he cited it strategically in the Anabasis passage to effect a sense of perpetuity to the tithe and its sanctity. Walzer believes that Xenophon wrote the passage after he left Scillus and thus invoked a curse as he was writing on those who would dare to neglect the cult.442 But it is likely that Xenophon did, as he states, erect the inscription in his sanctuary, not only because he would gain nothing by

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fabricating it—the new owners would certainly know that Xenophon was lying and the “curse” would seem ineffective—but also because there were good reasons for having it inscribed while he was still at Scillus. Lendle notes that the threat at the end of the inscription is unparalleled.443 The reasons for the difficulty of finding parallels also explain why the inscription had to be erected at Scillus: Xenophon’s personal circumstances and the status of the cult. The inscription implies that Xenophon or his family would not always be responsible for the land. He may have anticipated his expulsion by the Eleans, or, more plausibly, hoped to move away from Scillus if his exile was revoked or if his Spartan connections demanded his presence elsewhere. In that case, he could either sell the land or lease it, and the inscription would encourage the holder to maintain the cult. And he must have hoped that his sons, whether he was recalled or not, would someday find a home that would provide greater opportunities to display excellence in politics or war rather than remain in Scillus to manage the cult. The private and individual nature of the cult determines the character of this sacred law with its “curse.” Lacking civic or collective authority, the founder of a private cult must resort to threats referring to the impiety of neglecting the gods. Different procedures were used by cults managed by associations and the polis. The existence of a collective body of worshippers encouraged conscientiousness and regularity of procedure through peer pressure and structured organization lacking in cults managed by individuals. The founders of Hellenistic private family cults and Stiftungen dedicate land and prescribe sacrifices without a threat of divine wrath as a penalty for neglect because the founders established the sanctuaries in their native communities and had numerous members of their household or community to assist in the cult’s management and funding and to inherit the cult.444 Like these testamentary foundations, Classical state cults and private associations in Greece could also depend on a collective body of worshippers and their continuity to ensure perpetual sacrifices, just as they often prescribe fines or taxes that accrue to the divinity and are enforced by the group. In addition, private associations sometimes relied on expulsion from the group as a penalty in order to guarantee regular sacrifices.445 Xenophon is an outsider who has come to Scillus with only his immediate family. He thus cannot form a cult association nor depend on an extended family and his descendants to share responsibility with him. Although Xenophon’s foundation has been classified as the first of many Stiftungen,446 and does resemble them in that it lists conditions for private use of the property,447 it differs from them in that it is not a testament entrusting the foundation to slaves and heirs. Xenophon does not know who will manage the cult in the future. Xenophon’s inscription, however, was not unique in its designation of a goddess as the means of compulsion to enforce obligations concerning her property. An unnamed divinity appears as an active imposer of regulations in a mid-third-century B.C. dispute among orgeones concerning the sale or mortgage


of their land. Arbitration resulted in a proclamation that “the goddess and [the cult official] Callistratus forbid any of the orgeones from selling or renting or abusing any of her property….”448 Unfortunately, the last five lines of the inscription are too fragmentary to discern whether a threat similar to that of Xenophon’s inscription was added. A fine or expulsion from the orgeones may have been imposed, but the extant phrasing indicates that the will of the goddess ought to be the chief motive for obeying the regulation. If we view the inscription as a curse encouraging the respect of sacred property, close parallels are found in the East, especially on funerary monu ments. An Aramaic-Lydian inscription erected ca. 394 B.C. presents a violent Artemis Ephesia: “Whoever damages the stele of this grave chamber…to him Artemis of Ephesus and Artemis of Koloe…shall bring destruction.”449 Curse tablets expressed similar notions, sometimes in vocabulary as vague. A woman in Pessinus, for instance, prayed to Helius that whoever caused her son’s death , “may he not be pleasing to you.”450 Xenophon may have been directly influenced by inscriptions he saw on the Cyrean expedition, or may have expressed Greek conceptions originally derived from the East.451 But Xenophon’s curse also expresses beliefs well attested in Greek religion. Greek oaths often contain curses that the participants invoke upon themselves if they do not abide by the oath. These appear in both private and international agreements, where local authority has no force.452 Xenophon’s inscription implies that the same conditions hold for himself, the present holder of the land, as for future occupants, and thus can be read also as a sort of vow or oath by him to render a yearly tithe to Artemis as long as he lives there, with a curse on himself or whoever neglects the conditions. Oaths usually invoke vivid and violent curses, but sometimes contain also a wish for the gods’ disfavor. A sixthcentury oath of the Delphic Amphictyony contains a vow to protect Delphi’s sacred land under the threat of a curse of Apollo, Artemis, Leto, and Athena Pronaea. The oath wishes on offenders unproductive land and animals, barren wives, defeat in military, legal, and business matters, and general destruction. Finally, it requests that offenders against the oath never sacrifice piously to the gods and that the gods refuse their sacrifices.453 The Amphictyonic oath indicates that no one wants to deprive the gods of their due. Although it should be obvious that one who holds a divinity’s land should care for it and sacrifice, Xenophon spells out the consequences of neglect in terms of divine awareness of the offense. Perhaps he expected that the next holder of the land would sacrifice, but not the full amount of a tithe. The specification on stone calls the goddess to witness and perpetuates his original dedication from the Cyrean vow.454 An early fourth-century B.C. inscription from neighboring Macistus suggests that local inhabitants were familiar with curses invoking divine disfavor. The Triphylians inscribed a decree granting certain persons citizenship of Macistus and enforced their status by cursing those who do not respect it with impiety against Athena.455 Here too, it was assumed that no one would want to commit sacrilege, and if they did, they would have to

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suffer divine punishment. Although Xenophon may have wished for a more specific means of enforcement, his “curse” could be expected to rouse scruples in its readers. The sanctuary by Pausanias’s time had fallen into disuse and only ruins remained.456 But the ultimate neglect of the sanctuary may have been the result of the absence of any owner rather than deliberate desecration. It is unknown when the sanctuary fell into ruin. Xenophon was expelled from Scillus, perhaps in 371, after the defeat of Sparta at Leuctra. Lendle suggests that after Xenophon’s departure, the priesthood of the former shrine on the site resumed control of the cult.457 If in fact this was the site of a native cult and the priesthood was active when Xenophon expanded it, he may have allowed the Scilluntians to maintain a role in the cult while he was present, but we can only speculate; it is likely, however, that any personnel, probably at least one priestess, established through the authority of Ephesus when Xenophon set up his complex, were retained. In the second century A.D., the Eleans told Pausanias that the Olympic Council tried Xenophon on the charge of receiving land from the Spartans, and when the Eleans pardoned him, he lived securely again at Scillus; he also mentions a nearby grave said to be Xenophon’s.458 Diogenes Laertius says that he went to Corinth with his sons and stayed there until his death.459 Diogenes’s sources (Demetrius of Magnesia and Stesiclides of Athens) were certainly less biased and more reliable than Pausanias’s. But it is possible that he is wrong about the duration of Xenophon’s stay in Corinth. Xenophon’s works addressed to Athenians, as well as his son’s military service for Athens, suggest that he may have returned to his native polis at some time.460 His grandson is called Xenophon the Athenian, son of Diodorus, in an Ephesian decree of the late fourth century. The Ephesians grant to him and his descendants the rights of citizenship and enrollment in a tribe in return for his benefactions.461 In any case, the combined evidence suggests that he left behind the cult that he had founded with only his inscription, and perhaps a priestess, to ensure its continuity. Xenophon’s cult brought him many personal advantages. His supervision of the cult and especially the festival permitted the assumption of a public role denied to him in political arenas. His consciousness of his suitability for public life and his adaptation to a private life appears in the Anabasis, where he excels in leadership but at times declines it or is unfairly accused of putting his own interest before that of his troops. He portrays his life at Scillus as a continuation of his public yet unofficial role as leader and benefactor of a community far from his home. Xenophon’s hunt may have been viewed as a service to the community of the Scilluntians, if they agreed with him on the educational value of hunting. The rituals that simulated hunting in other states were incorporated into civic cults, and Xenophon may have conceived of his role as a civic one as well. Through the goddess, he acted as host and benefactor at his annual festival, feasting his neighbors and advertising the estate of Ephesian Artemis that might, like the famous Ephesian sanctuary, represent a protective haven to worshippers. The Spartans could benefit by Xenophon’s cult because it could facilitate


military recruitment and provide ample camp grounds and lodging for visitors to Olympia, while endearing Xenophon, their representative, and thus Sparta itself to the local inhabitants. These advantages—to Xenophon, the Scilluntians, and the Spartans— do not contradict motives and sentiments of piety in the cult’s foundation and worship. The cult first and foremost enabled Xenophon to worship with-out the obstacles that his outsider status would otherwise impose. And managing a sacred estate and temple was a serious and substantial responsibility. Xenophon’s inscription merely hints at the efforts necessary to avoid impiety, the bare minimum of temple maintenance and tithe offerings. We hear nothing of cult personnel, cleaning the temple and statue, organizing the festival, and supervision of worshippers and the placement of their dedications. These tasks must have consumed time and exertion, but Xenophon’s description of the cult suggests that they were worth the trouble.

Conclusion

The preceding study of private cults may well have given the reader an impression of a miscellany which can yield few positive and comprehensive conclusions; we are not only limited by the uncertainty of much of the evidence, but also by the untidy variations among the worshippers and their cults. And indeed, the most obvious conclusion is that these cults reflect and even magnify the diversity of Classical Greek polytheism in general. First, the types of gods that appear in the case studies and parallels do not fit into any particular set of categories with respect to their character and functions. Deities honored by individuals as well as by communities often resist theoretical predictability. Both Xenocratia and Xenophon found cults including Artemis; Xenocratia, as a mother, may choose her as a kourotrophic goddess, while Xenophon fulfills a vow to her as a Panhellenic goddess who presides over Ephesus, the gateway to the land of his expedition, Asia, in thanks for his success there. Apollo, honored in Xenocratia’s and Archedamus’s cults, may be recognized for a number of qualities: as an oracular authority, official state god, leader of the nymphs, and sender of moisture. While Xenocratia may perceive a hero as a divinity who took a personal interest in her, and Pantalces enumerates the personal advantages he gained from heroes as well as gods, Philius’s dedication to Naulochus does not indicate that he received anything from the hero except a command and a promise to watch over a city that was not Philius’s own. Philius and perhaps also Xenocratia worship divinities whose names are not attested in other cults, suggesting that private worship was not always modelled on state cult and indicating the existence of an abundant variety of cults that are often inconspicuous in extant evidence for the Classical period. The particular character and circumstances of the individual are reflected in the founder’s contributions to the cult and in the dedicatory inscriptions. As a mother, Xenocratia honors kourotrophic divinities along with others more specific to her experiences; Archedamus, as a Theraean, uses Doric with Attic and lonic scripts and dialect, as well as Theraean techniques of adapting the landscape for worship; Xenophon, a retired military leader, organizes hunting expeditions and distributes food to a community as if in imitation of his former roles in military raids and provisioning of troops.


The expressions of the founders’ individual situations and personalities are, however, balanced by an apparent openness to generic cult functions and lack of permanently inscribed regulations. Although some sacred laws may have been recorded on plaques now lost, their apparent absence in cults set up by individuals in the Classical period allows a tentative conclusion that the founders wish to match the gods’ good will and generosity to themselves with the same attitude toward potential visitors to their shrines. Whoever so wishes may sacrifice for blessings at Xenocratia’s shrine, or join the hunt at Xenophon’s festival. The dedications found at Archedamus’s cave show that he welcomes visitors whose motives for worshipping the local divinities are possibly quite different from his own. Whether founders introduce gods from outside the place of the new cult or expand an existing cult site, they seem to respect local conditions and the aspect of the god particularly prominent at the new or revived site. Xenocratia adds several new divinities to Cephisus and the nymphs, who are closely tied to the site as the gods of the river. Archedamus respects the preexisting structure of the cave (though certainly convenience was a determinant in this case), and Xenophon adapts his cult to the landscape so that Artemis Ephesia becomes more a huntress in her new location than she was at Ephesus. The site of the new or revived cult, its potential visitors, and the founder’s personal characteristics seem to be equally influential in determining the character of the cult. The cult of Archedamus shows that in private cults, social status and lavish expenditure are unnecessary to attain a prominent position, self-esteem, and a sense of religious fulfillment in the expression of mutual favor between oneself and divinities. Deme and polis cults, on the other hand, reserve honorary decrees, priesthoods, and conspicuous roles in festivals to those who are politically or socially prominent and can donate material gifts to the cults.1 If a less prominent citizen or a non-citizen can spare the time and exertion in modification of a natural setting for cult purposes, he or she can enjoy a celebrity within the cult that may be otherwise difficult to achieve. Xenocratia and Xenophon also gain a sort of social distinction as cult founders that is in most other contexts inconceivable for a woman and a foreigner. As noted above, Plato’s assertions concerning the motives of those who set up private shrines are not confirmed by the extant evidence, although we cannot assume that he is wrong through an argument from silence. It is clear, however, that private cult founders do not wish to portray their motives as a reflection of weakness or fear; and the pride with which they sometimes proclaim their accomplishments suggests that they expect the readers of their claims to admire them, and perhaps liken them to eminent cult founders familiar in mythical and historical accounts. And so before dismissing the question of motives, and by way of conclusion, we shall touch briefly on precedents not suggested by the primary evidence for the cults themselves, but which should be considered influential as part of the background of private cult founders and the attitudes of others toward them.

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Legendary foundations provide role models as well as sanction for private cult founders, whether native or foreign. Native founders in myth are often kings or rulers; for example, King Cecrops of Athens founded the cult of Cronus and Rhea2 and Amphictyon, King of Athens, established the worship of Dionysus Orthos by erecting an altar in the sanctuary of the Horai.3 Children of gods are sometimes said to have introduced cults of divinities especially tied to civic identity, such as Erichthonius, the son of Hephaestus and Earth, who inaugurated celebrations of Athena at Athens.4 In the Roman period, local traditions of mythical and historical cult founders are especially prominent in Pausanias, but models for each of the case studies here exists in evidence from the Classical period as well. Heroes, oikists and kings set a pattern imitated by notable political leaders such as Cleisthenes5 or, as mentioned above, Themistocles, followed by individuals such as Xenophon and Archedamus. Women such as Xenocratia could look to tragedy for females and female divinities who took active roles in establishing or encouraging worship. For example, Euripides depicts Iphigenia as a priestess among the Taurians. There she was ordered by Athena to serve Artemis at Brauron, where rock formations mark the site of the shrine.6 Aeschylus portrays Hera in the role of a priestess who gathers gifts for the nymphs.7 Cult founders like Xenophon who are not natives to the region of the cult they establish or who bring home new gods or old gods with new epithets are common both in accounts of colonization and in the mythical tradition. In colonial foundations, the oikist receives sanction from the mother city and often from an oracle for setting up both the new colony and cults. He is then worshipped after death as a founding hero. Accounts of the oikist as cult founder provide the earliest as well as the most detailed descriptions of the procedure involved in establishing a cult.8 The varying degrees to which mythical missionaries were welcomed reveal the indigenous worshippers’ tension between a suspicion of outsiders and an anxiety about the rejection of a divinity. Resistance myths grant honor to divinities by explaining how they have overcome initial opposition to their worship. These divinities are often introduced by someone who stands outside ruling authority or comes from outside the community, but whose religious authority is revealed in the end, as failure or refusal to recognize divinities invariably results in disaster.9 The god as well as the introducer of the new cult must be welcomed and respected. Euripides’s Bacchae presents the most vivid example in the Classical period. On the other hand, the foreign introducers of gods and cults are often represented as figures beyond reproach even as they first initiate new cults: itinerant gods, heroes, poets, and prophets found cults and serve as role models for merchants, mercenaries, and exiles, as well as for citizens who move to a new location within the polis. In the Homeric Hymn to Pythian Apollo, Apollo himself lays foundations of his temple at Delphi, two heroes along with “innumerable tribes of people” build the temple,10 and the god chooses Cretan sailors to be his first priests.11 The god is from Delos; the priests seem to have no


business in Delphi, and the local heroes act as a minority in constructing the temple. Pindar portrays the far-travelled Heracles consecrating the precinct of Zeus at Olympia and establishing the Olympic festival with its games.12 Bacchylides tells how Melampous, a prophet from Argos, founded an altar and precinct to Apollo at Asine in the Argolid.13 Mythical itinerant founders obviously reflect historical reality. It is not surprising that travellers and new residents of a place take care to establish good relations with local deities and to secure their favor and protection by means of prayer, sacrifice, or a dedication. Sea travellers from the Mycenaean period propitiated gods with sacrifice on the coasts along their journeys, in some places erecting altars later attributed to Homeric heroes, for example, Agamemnon, who claims in the Iliad that he sacrificed at all altars of Zeus on his way to Troy.14 Cult processions enact the movement of the god through the transport of his statue and cult objects from one place to another, sometimes for long distances and with vehicles imitating those used on longer voyages, such as ships. Vase paintings display gods in motion both in mythical and cultic acts. The cult act may sometimes mimic the introduction of the god (explicit in the cult of Asclepius at Athens) or the journeys of the god before settlement in the polis. The transport and movement of the gods can suggest the acts of the founders who introduced them and the cults’ first consecration rites and thus may be interpreted by festival-goers as an endorsement of the establishment of new shrines. Likewise, sacrifices are often offered to heroes said to have initiated worship of gods whose sanctuary they share or adjoin as a prerequisite to sacrifice to those gods; the movement of the worshipper from the hero to the god may then express the founder-hero’s achievement as mediator between humans and divinities.15 Specific aspects of worship involving “outsiders” seen in the private cults discussed here also have precedents expressed in mythical traditions. Epic attests to the practice of offering exotic gifts to the gods: Paris imports to Troy women who weave lavish Sidonian robes for Athena, and elsewhere too, Eastern craftsmen or women were said to have made splendid robes for cult statues,16 as Archedamus offered foreign script and perhaps Theraean garments to the Attic nymphs. Legends of the transport of the Palladium from Troy by Homeric heroes were popular in Classical and later art and myth;17 these heroes as well as oikists carried aphidrumata that bore witness to their establishment of branch cults, offering precedents for cults such as Xenophon’s. The foundation of cults by outsiders is suggestive of flexible notions about divine and human adaptability, piety, and foreignness. Gods are as likely to favor a person who has no ancestral claim to the god’s territory as they are to favor one who has been born there, and they also sometimes like to be given a new residence, remote from their original shrines. The predominance of founders who lack full citizenship in these case studies reflects my own choice of cults that have left extensive evidence, but it is conceivable that the disenfranchised or those never enfranchised founded cults more often than did citizens, and also

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that they had a stronger tendency to advertise their accomplishments more emphatically than did citizens. It is likely that not all innovators of cult sites claimed responsibility for their own contributions to the extent that these “founders” did. Numerous unsigned niches, altars, and other dedications may indicate an absence of “epigraphic egotism” with its apparent drive toward selfassertion and esteem, and suggest that advertisement of religious achievements along with prestige within a cult are not always significant in the motives of worshippers. But cult founders who were restricted or excluded from the institutions of the polis could, by claiming responsibility in inscriptions (or more rarely, in literature, as in the case of Xenophon), achieve lasting recognition as a benefactor of the community in addition to attending to their own religious needs. Cults of metics are often studied in the context of foreign and non-Greek divinities,18 but of course many metics were Greeks. This study reveals their complex response to cult exclusion of outsiders in the polis: a special reverence for divinities of their new residence, combined with the worship of native gods and/or methods of honoring gods that are customary in their native poleis. In terms of psychosocial function, the results can be viewed as cultural adaptation and integration for the immigrants. A metic could not only achieve the identity of benefactor by mediating between his new community and the gods, but could also obtain a sense of integration by establishing religious rituals that expressed his ties with local divinities.19 The religious benefits seen from the perspective of ancient worshippers probably revolved around the attainment of a relationship of continual charis or reciprocity with a divinity. All cult founders, native or foreign, could look to the Iliad’s Chryses, the priest of Apollo, the temple-builder to whom Apollo is perpetually indebted in a kind of xenia. It has been shown that pray-ers remind a god of sacrifices or gifts they have given in the past when it is impossible for them to perform sacrifice to accompany the prayer.20 Chryses has a ready justification for the god’s assent to his requests in the fact that he has “roofed over” a temple for him in the past.21 The cult founder or furnisher is a perpetual host who has given a gift that guarantees more giving. He has established the means for others to sacrifice and to perform honors for the god and therefore cannot possibly wear out the da quia dedi nor the da quia dabo formulas in his prayers. Foreigners could look to Odysseus the wanderer as a model for his reverence for and acceptance by divinities in alien lands, at the other end of the scale of reciprocity. In Book 5 of the Odyssey, the shipwrecked Odysseus escapes from danger and gains access to the island of the Phaeacians only through his humble supplication of the river god there. Odysseus is in this passage at the opposite extreme of the relationship depicted by Chryses, because of his helplessness as an outsider and need of hospitality: “revered by even immortal gods is he of men who approaches as a wandering suppliant,” .22 A recent


study of ancient prayer reveals that xenia and supplication are respectively the highest and lowest stances that one can assume in prayer, and illustrates them partly through these Homeric examples.23 A foreign cult founder arrives at a new place as an outsider without the resources and security of a citizen; though probably not in the straits that Odysseus was in, he has a claim to clemency if he chooses to supplicate the gods, even if he has never honored the gods of this place. He then reverses his status by assuming responsibility for a cult. The mythical precedents cited above sanction this practice, and these Homeric examples of suppliancy and xenia articulate the grounds for his religious authority. A citizen cannot prevent an outsider from vowing and praying to local gods; he may even gain enhanced appreciation for his native gods through the new or refurbished cults adopted by outsiders, and come to admire the charis between the outsider and the god(s). While the experiences and deeds of the individuals in these case studies are mirrored in extant art and literature of the period, it is likely that local oral traditions now lost to us also provided precedents and legitimized the motives of founders who claimed personal communication with divinities. In Modern Greece, divine interventions in the form of visions and dreams, leading to the construction of chapels by otherwise obscure individuals, have become incorporated into local lore and symbolized in local rituals.24 In ancient Greece, too, local residents must have learned of and repeated miracles accounting for new sites of worship as well as the background of foundations such as Xenophon’s chiefly by word of mouth. The inscriptions and testimony that survive are mere reminders of the experiences of the individuals who claimed divine favor and in return facilitated perpetual honors to the gods, and of the communities who accepted and appreciated them.

Notes

CHAPTER 1 1. On definitions of polis vs. private cult, see J.K.Davies, “Religion and the State,” in CAH 42 (1988), 368–88 at 379; C.Sourvinou-Inwood, “Further Aspects of Polis Religion,” Annali: Sezione di archaeologia e storia antica 10 (1988): 259–74; Ead., “What is Polis Religion?” in O.Murray and S.Price, eds., The Greek City: From Homer to Alexander (NY: Oxford University Press, 1990), 295–322; S.Aleshire, “Towards a Definition of ‘State Cult’ for Ancient Athens,” in R.Hägg, ed., Ancient Greek Cult Practice from the Epigraphical Evidence. Proceedings of the Second International Seminar on Ancient Greek Cult, 1991. Skrifter Utgivna av svenska institutet I Athen, 8, XIII (Stockholm: Paul Åstrom, 1994), 9–16; Robert Parker, Athenian Religion: A History (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 5–7. 2. Aleshire, 12–13. 3. Contra C.Sourvinou-Inwood, “Further Aspects of Polis Religion,” who admits that the polis permitted individuals to found private shrines (265–66), yet insists that “polis religion encompassed all religious activity within the polis,” (270) and “individual cult activities were but one particular manifestation of polis cult” (273). 4. See Jean Rudhardt, “Le délit d’impiété d’après législation attique,” MusHelv 17 (1960):87–105; W.R.Connor, “The Other 399: Religion and the Trial of Socrates,” in Michael A.Flower and Mark Toher, eds., Georgica: Greek Studies in Honour of George Cawkwell. London Institute of Classical Studies Bull. Suppl. 58 (London: Institute of Classical Studies, 1991), 49–56; Parker, Athenian Religion, 158–63. 5. M.Casevitz, “Temples et Sanctuaires: ce qu’ apprend l’étude lexicologique,” in G.Roux, ed., Temples et Sanctuaires. Séminaire de recherche 1981–1983. Travaux de la Maison de l’Orient 7 (Lyon: GIS—Maison de l’Orient, 1984), 81–95; Aleshire, “Towards a Definition of ‘State Cult,’” 12; Kevin Clinton, “The Epidauria and the Arrival of Asclepius in Athens,” in Hägg, Ancient Greek Cult Practice, 17–34 at 33, n. 67: in Athenian state cult inscriptions hieron designates a larger and official sanctuary which can enclose smaller temene. 6. Similarly, in the context of “new” cults adopted into polis religion, Parker, Athenian Religion, 186, points out that the introducers of cults in late fifth century Athens did not transform ritual or bring to the city gods entirely unknown. 7. Cf. A.J.Festugière, Epicurus and His Gods. Translated by C.W.Chilton (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1955), 14, for the claim that “free choice by the individual” was

124 NOTES

8. 9.

10. 11.

12.

13.

14. 15.

16.

17.

characteristic of Hellenistic cults, and Nilsson, GGR I3, 804–12, on the “Reflexe des Individualismus in der Religion” of the Classical period. See Robert Garland, Introducing New Gods (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1992); Parker, Athenian Religion, 152–98. As is asserted by Louise Bruit Zaidman and Pauline Schmidt Pantel, Religion in the Ancient Greek City. Translated by Paul Cartledge, (NY: Cambridge Universiry Press, 1992), 15. Likewise claimed by Zaidman and Schmidt Pantel, 14. Susan E.Alcock, “Minding the Gap in Hellenistic and Roman Greece,” in Ead. and Robin Osborne, Placing the Gods (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 247–61 at 247– 48, 252. For a regional study of rural cults which also acknowledges rhe complications involved in their classification, see Ingrid E.M.Edlund, The Gods and the Place: Location and Function of Sanctuaries in the Countryside of Etruria and Magna Grecia (700–400 B.C.), Skrifter Utgivna av Svenska Institutet i Rom, 4, 43. (Stockholm: Paul Åstrom, 1987). For example, the relative frequency of dedications other than those of shrines and the frequent ambiguity of evidence has led to the denial of private sanctuary dedications in the otherwise valuable collection and analysis of votive inscriptions by Maria Letizia Lazzarini, “Le formule delle dediche votive nella Grecia Arcaica,” MemLinc ser. 8, 19.2 (Rome: Accademia nazionale dei Lincei, 1976): 47– 356 at 103–104, who assumes that is always adjectival, although the inscriptions in her corpus that include the term (284, nos. 753–756) are ambiguous. Nilsson, GGR I3, 709–10; Sterling Dow, “The Greater Demarkhia of Erkhia,” BCH 89 (1965): 180–213 at 197. Garland, Introducing New Gods, 61, 93, suggests that Pan and Theseus had been worshipped at Athens in private cults before their adoption by the state. [Xen.] Ath. Pol. 2.9. See C.G.Yavis, Greek Altars: Origins and Typology. Saint Louis University Studies Monograph Series: Humanities, No. 1 (St. Louis: St. Louis University Press), 214–15, no. 84. F.T.Van Straten, “Daikrates’s Dream. A votive relief from Kos, and some other kat’onar dedications,” BABesch 51 (1976): 1–38; Id., “Gifts for the Gods,” in H.S.Versnel, ed., Faith, Hope, and Worship: Aspects of Religious Mentality in the Ancient World. Studies in Greek and Roman Religion 2 (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1981), 65–151; Id., “Votives and Votaries in Greek Sancin Albert Schachter and Jean Bingen, eds., Le Sanctuaire Grec. Entretiens sur PAntiquité Classique 37. Vandoeuvres-Geneva, 1990 (Geneva: Fondation Hardt, 1992), 247–84; Id., “Images of Gods and Men in a Changing Society,” in Anthony Bulloch, Erich S.Gruen, A.A.Long, and Andrew Stewart, Images and Ideologies: Self-definition in the Hellenistic World. Hellenistic Culture and Society 12 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 248–64. On dedications see also the now outdated but still useful William Henry Denham Rouse, Greek Votive Offerings: An Essay in the History of Greek Religion (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1902). A.Burford, “The Economics of Greek Temple Building,” PCPS 191 (1965):21–34. Irad Malkin, Religion and Colonization in Ancient Greece. Studies in Greek and Roman Religion 3. (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1987), esp. 135–64; Id., “What is an Aphidruma?” ClAnt 10 (1991):77–96; Walter Burkert, “Greek Temple Builders: Who, Where and Why?” in Robin Hägg, ed., The Role of Religion in the Early

NOTES

18.

19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25.

26. 27.

28.

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Greek Polis. Proceedings of the Third International Seminar on Ancient Greek Cult, Swedish Institute at Athens 16–18 October 1992. Skrifter Utgivna av Svenska Institutet I Athen 8 xiv (Stockholm: Paul Åstrom, 1996), 21–29 and GR, 84–86. B.Laum, Stiftungen in der griechischen und römischen Antike: Ein Beitrag zur antiken Kulturgeschichte. 2 vols. (Berlin: Teubner, 1914); W.Kamps, “Les origines de la fondation cultuelle dans la Grèce ancienne,” AHDO (Archives d’histoire du droit oriental) 1 (1937):145–79; Anneliese Mannzmann, Griechische Stiftungsurkunden: Studie zu Inhalt und Rechtsform. Fontes et Commentationes 2 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1962). Laum 1:61, no. 12; Mannzmann, 127. Arist. Ath. Pol. 55.2. Pl. Euthyd. 302d. Nilsson, GGR I3 557. On the polis’s authority over household cults, see SourvinouInwood, “Further Aspects of Polis Religion,” 270–73. Isaeus 8.15–16; Antiphon 1.14–20. Theophr. Char. 16.4. Parker, Athenian Religion, provides an appendix with a list and discussion of private associations in Classical Athens (334–38) as “an antidote to the view that the private association is a distinctly Hellenistic phenomenon, a symptom of the collapse of the city as organizing center of religious life” (334). See Noel Robertson, Festivals and Legends: The Formation of Greek Cities in the Light of Public Ritual (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992), 138 and n. 14. See W.S.Ferguson, “The Attic Orgeones,” HThR 37 (1944): 61–140; and Yulia Ustinova, “Orgeones in phratries: A mechanism of social integration in Attica,” Kernos 9 (1996):227–42. Parker , Athenian Religion, 111. Cf. Suda s.v.

29. Ustinova, 238–89 (religious and social needs), 241–2 (political integration); Burkert, GR, 205 (protection of local deities), 255–60 (social identity). 30. Martti Leiwo, “Religion, or other Reasons? Private Associations in Athens,” in Jaakko Frösén, ed., Early Hellenistic Athens: Symptoms of Change. Papers and Monographs of the Finnish Institute at Athens 6 (Helsinki: Finnish Institute, 1997), 103–17. These benefits included submersion of property under collective ownership (108); legal and economic rights to metics by virtue of their representation by citizen associates (111); and assistance in financing funerals (116). 31. Schol. Ar. Lysistr. 389: . See R.Simms, “Mourning and Community at the Athenian Adonia,” CJ 93 (1998):121–41, esp. 125–27 on the ‘ad hoc’ character of these festivals. 32. Dem. 18.259–60; See the most recent commentary by Harvey Yunis, ed., Demosthenes: On the Crown (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2001); Simon Price, Religions of the Ancient Greeks (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1999) 116; Parker, Athenian Religion, 159, 194; Burkert, Ancient Mystery Cults, index s.v. “Aeschines, in Sabazius mysteries.” 33. Burkert, Andent Mystery Cults, 33; Orientalizing Revolution, 44. 34. The cult of Asclepius is considered one of the chief types of “elective cults” by Simon Price, Religions of the Ancient Greeks, 109–112. 35. E.g., IG I3 35.11–12; 255b 15–21; 136.32.

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36. Men. Dys. 260–63. 37. Cf.Parker, Athenian Religion, 89 on the Pisistratids’ prominent role in the Panathenaic procession as “one of the sweetest fruits of power.” 38. Plut. Nicias 3.7; Laum, no. 53. 39. See David Whitehead, “Competitive Outlay and Community Profit: in Democratic Athens,” PCPS 212, n.s. 32 (1986):155–74. 40. Reading with Wilamowitz-Moellendorff. 41. Pl.Laws, 5. 738b–c. All translations are my own. 42. Pl.Laws, 10. 909e–910a. On dreams and epiphanies as motives, see also [Pl.] Epin. 985c. 43. E.g., Pind. Nem. 7.86–101 (Heracles’s shrine adjacent to the house of Sogenes of Aegina). On this and other examples of neighboring gods and heroes see Jeffrey S.Rusten, “ : Pindar’s Prayer to Heracles (N. 7.86–101) and Greek Popular Religion,” HSCP 87 (1983): 289–97. Pindar (Pyth. 3.77–79) refers to a chorus celebrating the Mother and Pan , misinterpreted and embellished in later sources as part of a foundation legend attributing the introduction of the cult to the poet, but the phrase here is probably used figuratively: Noel Robertson, “The Ancient Mother of the Gods. A Missing Chapter in the History of Greek Religion,” in Eugene N.Lane, ed., Cybele, Attis, and Related Cults: Essays in Memory of M.J.Vermaseren. EPRO 131 (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1996), 240–304 at 265–66. 44. R.E.Wycherley, “Minor Shrines in Ancient Athens,” Phoenix 24 (1970):283–95. 45. Arist. Pol. 1331a 24–31. 46. Paus. 9.22.2; Wycherley, 295. Aristotle (Pol. 1319b 23–27) follows Plato in his concern for solidarity and unity of citizens by advising unification of private cults into a few state cults. 47. IG I3 78.55–56, ca. 422(?). 48. IG II2 1177.3–4. See Ferguson, “Attic Orgeones,” 96. 49. IG I3 78.54–55. 50. Foreigners: e.g., LSCG 110 (a fifth-century Parian sanctuary bars access to Dorians); IG XII.5 225; see Patricia A.Butz, “Prohibitionary Inscriptions, , and the Influence of the Early Greek Polis,” in Hägg, ed., Role of Religion, 75–85; cf.further below; women: e.g., LSAM 42A; LSCG 109; see Robert Parker, Miasma: Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion (NY: Oxford University Press, 1983), 84–85; all: LSCG Suppl. 128 and 34; IG I3 1066. Men were excluded from some rites or shrines of women, e.g., the Thesmophoria at Athens and the Thesmophorion on Paros (Hdt. 6.134–35). And some shrines posted prohibitions against criminals: see A.Chaniotis , “Conflicting Authorities. Asylia between Secular and Divine Lawin the Classical and Hellenistic Polis,” Kernos 9 (1996):65– 86 at 72–74. 51. Robert Parker, “Festivals of the Attic Demes,” in Tullia Linders and Gullög Nordquist, eds., Gifts to the Gods. Proceedings of the Uppsala Symposium, 1985. Boreas 15 (Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, 1987), 137–47 at 138; D.Whitehead, The Demes of Attica (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), 205. 52. See Jan Pecírka, The Formula for the Grant of Enktesis in Attic Inscriptions. Acta Universitatis Carolinae. Philosophica et Historica Monographia 15 (Karlova Universita: Prague, 1966).

NOTES

127

53. IG I2 337 (LSCG 34). 54. IG I2 1283. 55. Parker, Athenian Religion, 216, who notes that government authorization granted “right of ownership, not of worship” and also cites Plato’s Laws as evidence for the legality of private cults. 56. See André-Jean Festugière, Personal Religion among the Greeks (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1954), 1–18. 57. See Joseph Fontenrose, Didyma: Apollo’s Oracle, Cult, and Companions (Berkeley: University of California Press 1988), 166. 58. Ar. Peace 923 with Schol.; Wealth 1197–1198; Frag. 256 Kassel-Austin. 59. M.Jameson, “Private Space and the Greek City,” in Murray and Price, The Greek City, 171–98 at 192–93; see also C.G.Yavis, Greek Altars: Origins and Typology. Saint Louis University Studies Monograph Series: Humanities, No. Louis: St. Louis University Press, 1949), 141–42; 170–76; 179–80 for altars found in houses and courtyards, including stone altars, which were probably not intended to be moved. 60. Lycurg., Leocr. 25. 61. Lys. 7.4. 62. Lys. 7.22; 29. 63. L.Foxhall, in “Discussion” following Signe Isager, “Sacred and Profane Ownership of Land,” in Berit Wells, ed., Agriculture in Ancient Greece. Proceedings of the Seventh International Symposium at the Swedish Institute at Athens, 16–17 May 1990. Skrifter Utgivna av Svenska Institutet I Athen 4, XLII (Stockholm: Paul Åstrom, 1992), 119–22 at 122. 64. See Nilsson, GGR I3 73–74; Burkert, “Greek Temple Builders,” 21–29 and GR, 84– 86. On the location of sanctuaries in general, see also Price, Religions, 48–55. 65. Dem. 18. 154. 66. IG II2 204.69–70: . Cf. Androtion FGrH 324 F30: ; Philoch. FGrH 328 F155: See James McDonald, “Athens and the Hiera Orgas,” in Matthew Dillon, ed., Religion in the Ancient World: New Themes and Approaches (Amsterdam: Adolf M.Hakkert, 1996), 321–32. 67. McDonald, 323. 68. Michael H.Jameson et. al., A Lex Sacra from Selinous. GRBS Monographs 11 (Durham, NC: Editors of GRBS, 1993), 100–101, where other instances as well as stones to mark graves are discussed. 69. Aesch. Sept. 217. See also Eur. Tro. 23–27. 70. IG II2 1035. See Gerald R.Culley, “The Restoration of Sanctuaries in Attica: I.G. II, 2 1035,”Hesp. 44 (1975):207–23, and Id., “The Restoration of Sanctuaries in Attica II,” Hesp. 46 (1977):282–98. 71. D.M.Lewis, “The Athenian Rationes Centesimarum,” in M.I.Finley, Problèmes de la terre en Grèce ancienne (Paris: Mouton, 1973), 187–212 at 198 and 206–209. 72. Arist. Pol. 1329b 36–1330a35; 1267b–1268b; Signe Isager, “Sacred and Profane Ownership of Land,” in Wells, ed., Agriculture in Ancient Greece, 119–22; Signe Isager and Jens Erik Skydsgaard, Ancient Greek Agriculture: An Introduction (London: Routledge, 1992), 122.

128 NOTES

73. David Lewis, “Public Property in the City,” in Murray and Price, The Greek City, 245–64 at 246, remarks on the strangeness of these antitheses, in contrast to Solon’s earlier opposition of public and sacred. They become explicable if the development of public out of more private types of religion is allowed and if it is admitted that the hiera and the hosia of the 5th c. included private as well as public things. In the use of public land, the Athenians tended to interweave sacred and secular use, reinforcing civic and religious ideals together: W.R.Connor “‘Sacred’ and ‘Secular.’ and the Classical Athenian Concept of the State,” Anc. Soc. 19 (1988):161–88 at 167–68. 74. On this kind of land, see Isager, “Sacred and Profane Ownership of Land,” 120 and chapter 3, below. 75. Culley, “The Restoration of Sanctuaries in Attica II,” 289–90 on IG II2 1035.58, the restoration of to public use. 76. M.I.Finley, Studies in Land and Credit in Ancient Athens, 500–200 B.C. (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers, 1952), 97–98. 77. Isager, “Sacred and Profane Ownership of Land,” 121. 78. Burkert, GR, 87. 79. See M.P.Nilsson, “Die Prozessiontypen im griechischen Kult,” in Opuscula Selecta 1 (Lund: CWK Gleerup, 1951=Arch. Jahrb. 31 [1916] 309–39), 166–214 at l77. 80. Clinton, “Epidauria,” 29.

CHAPTER 2 1. IG I3 987. The fullest discussions are: B.Stais, “ ” ArchEph, ArchEph (1909):239–64; S.N.Dragoumes, “ ”, ArchEph (1911):214–22; loannes N.Svoronos, Das Athener Nationalmuseum I–II. W.Barth, transl. (Athens: Beck & Barth, 1908– 11), 120–36; 493–506; pls. 28, 181, 182; Th. Homolle, “Sur trois bas-reliefs de Phalère,” RA 11 (1920):1–81, pls. 1–3; C. Anti, “Appunti di esegesi figurata, I. II relievo di Xenocratia,” AttiVen (1923–24):567–75; O.Walter, “Die Reliefs aus dem Heiligtum der Echeliden in Neu-Phaleron,” ArchEph (1937):97–119; A. Linfert, “Die Deutung des Xenokrateiareliefs,” AM 82 (1967):149–57; M.Guarducci, “Le Iscrizioni del Santuario di Cefiso pressa Falero,” ASAtene 27–29 (1949–51):117– 33; ead., “L’offerta di Xenokrateia nel santuario di Cefiso al Falero,” in Donald : Tribute to William Bradeen and Malcolm Francis McGregor, eds., Benjamin Dean Meritt (Locust Valley NY: Augustin, 1974), 57–66; Charles Malcolm Edwards, “Greek Votive Reliefs to Pan and the Nymphs” (PhD diss. NY University, 1985), 310–38, no. 3; Gudrun Göntner, Göttervereine und Götterversammlungen auf attischen Weihreliefs: Untersuchungen zur Typologie und Bedeutung. Beiträge zur Archäologie 21 (Würzburg: Konrad Triltsch, 1994), 78–80; 161, G5, pl. 36.2; Uta Kron, “Priesthoods, Dedication and Euergetism: What Part Did Religion Play in the Political and Social Status of Greek Women?” in Pontus Hellstrom and Brita Alroth, eds., Religion and Power in the Ancient Greek World. Proceedings of the Uppsala Symposium 1993. Boreas 24 (Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, 1996), 139–82 at 166–68. 2. Stais, 240–41, with diagram A’ facing p. 239; Svoronos, I, 121, fig. 83. 3. Stais, 242; Nilsson, GGR I3 249.

NOTES

129

4. IG I3 987 Stais, 247–248, fig 3; IG II2 4548; LSCG Suppl. 17A; CEG 2.744. 5. Hansen, CEG 2, p. 168, contra Guarducci, “L’offerta di Xenokrateia nel santuario di Cefiso al Falero,” 58, who reads as an adjective with . Lazzarini, 103–104, wrongly (as Kron, 167, n. 125 points out) claims that is always adjectival, and at 73, that is used only with the object designating temple, altar, trophy, or statue. She omits Xenocratia’s dedication from her collection. 6. See J.Traill, The Political Organization of Attica. Hesp. Suppl. 14 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1975), 46; J.A.Talbert, ed., Barrington Atlas of the Greek and Roman World (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press 2000), 59 B3. 7. The meter begins after Xenocratia’s name and continues to the end of the first sentence; we must assume that rather than was intended in line 4: Hansen, CEG 2.744, p. 167. 8. First by Wilhelm ap. Stais, 250 n. 2. 9. Wilhelm ap. Stais, 250 n. 2.; Guarducci, “L’offerta di Xenokrateia nel santuario di Cefiso al Falero,” 59. 10. AP 16. 275.12.3–4. 11. Ibid., 11–12. 12. Homolle, 63, n. 3; D.M.Lewis, the editor of IG I3 seems to agree (p. 668). See photo in G.A.Papabasileios, “ ,” ArchEph (1911):79– 81 at 79, fig. 1. 13. Garland, Introducing New Gods, 5. For a summary of interpretations see Homolle, 63–64, n. 3 and comm. to IG II2 4548, p. 280. Stais (247) read …, and thought another name had been inscribed in the last line, but traces of letters after have been invisible to others: Papabasileios, 79; Dragoumes, 215, n.7. 14. SEG 36.750.8. 15. As those discussed by F.Sokolowski, “Fees and Taxes in the Greek Cults,” HThR 47 (1954):152–64. 16. LSJ, s.v. , A.I.3c, “with a view to.” 17. Ibid., A.III. “causal,” and A.III.3, “of occasions, circumstances, and conditions.” 18. With Kirchner, comm. on IG II2 4548, p. 280. 19. Cf. Herbert Weir Smyth, Greek Grammar, revised by Gordon M.Messing (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press [1920] 1956), 157, no. 472. 20. Sokolowski (LSCG Suppl. p. 45) compares Syll3 581.56, where the genitive absolute is also used: , Benjamin D.Meritt, “Inscriptions of Colophon,” AJP 56 (1935):358– 97 at 362, Col. I, line 20: , and LSCG Suppl. 72B: . 21. LSCG Suppl. 72B, quoted in the previous note, invites offerings that will ensure future prosperity ( , B4–5) for one’s family, and is a later addition to a more formal law (A), which designates payment to accompany offerings in thanks for blessings already obtained ( , A2): R.Martin, “Un nouveau règlement de culte Thasien,” BCH 64–65 (1940/41): 163–200 at 195–96. 22. This and the following inscription have been most recently edited by JeanClaude Decourt, Études Epigraphiques 3. Inscriptions de Thessalie 1: Les cités de la vallée de I’Énipeus (Athens: École Française d’Athènes, 1995), 88–90, no. 72.

130 NOTES

23. Decourt,

24.

25. 26. 27. 28.

29. 30.

31.

32.

no.

73.

1–17:

I I I I 1/169 I eaOXov, I T’ . See also F.Hiller von Gaertringen (unter Mitwirkung von P.Wilski), “Theräische Studien,” ArchEph (1937):48–60 at 57–58; W.R.Connor , “Seized by the Nymphs: Nympholepsy and Symbolic Expression in Classical Greece,” ClAnt 7 (1988):155–89 at 162–63, with earlier bibliography, n. 29, p. 162. Decourt, no. 73. 18–20. Arthur Darby Nock, “A Cult Ordinance in Verse,” Essays on Religion and the Ancient World 2. Edited by Zeph Stewart (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972), 847–52 (= HSCP 63 (1958): 415–21) at 850–51, notes that metrical sacred laws are rare and at 851, that this is not a sacred law but rather an “invitation” to worship. IG XII.3 330. IG XII 3 330. 276–77. IG II2 4547 (LSCG Suppl. 17B); photo: Stais, 241, fig. 1; Guarducci, “Le Iscrizioni del Santuario di Cefiso pressa Falero,” 119, fig. 1. Miriam Ervin, “Geraistai Nymphai Genethliai and the Hill of the Nymphs,” II AT N 21 (1959):146–59, with a discussion of this inscription at 148–49; Guarducci, “L’offerta di Xenokrateia nel santuario di Cefiso al Falero,” 60. Et. Mag. s.v. identifies these as the nymphs who aided in Zeus’s birth at Gortyn on Crete. Dem. 18. 141. Arist. Ath. Pol. 55.2 indicates that all citizens eligible for public office possessed an Apollo Patroos (and a Zeus Herkeios) with their own shrines. From Delphi: Argos and Rhodes are the only cults of Apollo Pythios/Pythaios outside of Delphi that have an oracle: M.Piérart, “Un oracle d’Apollon a Argos,” Kernos 3 (1990):319–33 at 324. Guarducci, “L’offerta di Xenokrateia nel santuario di Cefiso al Falero,” 60–61; Svoronos, II, 499, suggests that she is a nymph who presides over marriage and conception. Dragoumes, 221; Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, “Lesefrüchte,” Hermes 61 (1926):275–33 at 281. Many thanks to my reader for this observation. Linfert also

NOTES

33. 34.

35.

36. 37. 38. 39.

40.

41. 42.

43. 44. 45.

46. 47.

48.

131

implausibly proposed that the last word indicates dedicators of the inscription, Rhapsoi, in nominative plural, rather than a feminine singular dative (Linfert, 155). But as Guarducci points out, if this were true, a verb of dedicating or a space after the divinities’ names would have been inserted to avoid confusion (Guarducci, “L’offerta di Xenokrateia nel santuario di Cefiso al Falero,” 60). See Connor, “Seized by the Nymphs,” 160–62. Guarducci, “Le Iscrizioni del Santuario di Cefiso pressa Falero,” 120. Papabasileios, 81, suggests that priests with medical knowledge gave oracles or advice to Xenocratia concerning childbirth. Theodora Hadzisteliou Price, Kourotrophos. Cults and Representations of the Greek Nursing Deities (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1978), 125–27, interprets all the divinities in the inscription as kourotrophoi. Pind. Nem. 11.6–7; Paus. 5.14.4; for other examples, see LSCG Suppl. on 17B, p. 45; Walter, “Die Reliefs,” 98; Guarducci, “Le Iscrizioni del Santuario di Cefiso pressa Falero,” 119. LSCG Suppl. p. 45 on 17B. Cf. LSCG 1A; 4; 11A; 18; 20; 21A; 52; 65.68–69; 96; 146; 151A, B, and D; 153; 156B; 168; 169A and BI; 177; LSCG Suppl. 10; 80; 116; 131; 132. On dedications lacking the dedicator’s name see Rouse, 325–26; Lazzarini, 6, 120– 28. Stais dates the letters of the list to the first half of the fourth century (244), and the letters of Xenocratia’s inscription to the end of the fifth century (247). See Lewis in comm. to IG I3 987 (p. 668): most scholars date Xenocratia’s relief to before 400; Lewis, however, dates both her inscription and the list of gods to the early fourth century. Eg., Pl. Laws 8.828a; Xen. Anab. 5.3.7, discussed below. See GGR I3 630–31; H.W.Parke and D.E.W.Wormell, The Delphic Oracle. 1: The History (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1956), 320–61. LSCG 180.1–6; Guarducci, Epigrafta 4, 87–90. Diskin Clay, Archilochus Heros: The Cult of Poets in the Greek States (forthcoming). H.W.Parke, “The Newly Discovered Delphic Responses from Paros,” CQ 8 (1958):90–94 at 91, also notes that the verbs imply a distinction between what Mnesiepes asked and what the Pythia added, but without suggesting that he had already begun worship. Parke, “The Newly Discovered Delphic Responses from Paros,” 91. See also on Xenophon, chapter 4, below. Sokolowski, LSCG, p. 317. Fig. 1; Ath NM 2756; Stais, pl. 8; Svoronos, II, 493–506; pls. 181, 182; Guarducci, “Le Iscrizioni del Santuario di Cefiso pressa Falero,” 119, fig. 1; Hans Peter Isler, “Acheloos,” LIMC 1 (1981), no. 197; W.Lambrinoudakis, “Apollon,” LIMC 2 (1984), no. 968 and Lilly Kahil, “Artemis” LIMC 2 (1984), no. 1182; Alexandros Mantis, “Kephisos I,”LIMC 6 (1992), no. 2; Güntner, G5, pl. 36.2. Stais, 252; Svoronos, II, 493. Cf. Ulrich Hausmann, Griechische Weihreliefs (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1960), 57; Brunilde Sismondo Ridgway, Fourth-Century Styles in Greek Sculpture (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1997), 194, on humans portrayed smaller than gods on reliefs. See Isler, “Acheloos,” LIMC 1 (1981), 1:12–36 at 13–24, nos. 1–209.

132 NOTES

49. See Linfert, 149, n. 1 for a chart summarizing the opinions concerning these figures. 50. Gerhard Neumann, Gesten und Gebärden in der griechischen Kunst (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1965), 78 and 191, n. 312. where this relief is used as an example. 51. As Edwards (327–28 n. 6) points out. See for example Hausmann, 30, fig. 14, 59, fig. 28, 60, fig. 30, 62, fig. 32; F.T.Van Straten, “Gifts for the Gods,” 82 and figs. 7, 8, 10. 52. Linfert, 150; Guarducci, “Le Iscrizioni del Santuario di Cefiso pressa Falero,” 131– 32; Edwards, 320, 331–32, n. 27. 53. Neumann, 14, fig. 4; 15; 24; 26, fig. 10. 54. Paus. 1.37.3. 55. Hom. Il. 23.141–53. 56. See Rouse, 240–45 and L.Farnell, Cults of the Greek States 3 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1907), 279–81, for a collection of evidence. 57. Benjamin D.Meritt, “Greek Inscriptions,” Hesp. 17 (1948): 1–53 at 35, no. 18; Charles W.Hedrick, Jr., “Phratry Shrines of Attica and Athens,” Hesp. 60 (1991): 241–68 at 243 no. 2; S.D.Lambert, The Phratries of Attica (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1993), 308–309, T 6: . 58. See Charles W.Hedrick, Jr., The Decrees of the Demotionidai. American Classical Studies no. 22 (Atlanta: Am. Philol. Assoc., Scholars Press, 1990), 29 and n. 37. 59. My thanks to Bob Connor for this observation. 60. Kron, 167; Van Straten, “Gifts for the Gods,” 90; id., “Votives and Votaries,” 278; Hausmann, 63; Robert Garland, The Greek Way of Life (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990), 111; Güntner, 79. 61. As mentioned above, editors assume rather than . 62. Aesch. Sept. 18; Pl. Phdr. 107d; Phlb. 55d. 63. IvO 293.5 (CEG 2.830.5); the word here probably takes on the meanings of both education and upbringing. 64. Hansen, CEG 2, p. 167; Homolle, 62, 70–73 (proposing that the figure is a priest, adopting Xeniades into his family and introducing him to his family’s gods); Guarducci, “L’offerta di Xenokrateia nel santuario di Cefiso al Falero,” 62, 65–66 (a priest instructing Xenocratia, but not adopting Xeniades). 65. See Kevin Clinton, The Sacred Officials of the Eleusinian Mysteries. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 64.3 (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1974), 13, 99. 66. Clinton, Sacred Officials, 33–35. 67. Walter, “Die Reliefs,” 103–104. 68. Fig. 2; Ath. NM 1783; Svoronos, I, no. 9, pp. 120–36, pl. 28; Hausmann, 38–39, Pl. 18, 19; Edwards, 339–69; no. 4; Mantis, “Kephisos,” LIMC 6, no. I1 (Side A); Güntner, 21–23, 127–28, A 52, pl. 11. 69. IG I3 986A; CEG 2.743. 70. IG I3 986Ba. 71. Stais, 241; Svoronos, I, 123; Guarducci, “L’offerta di Xenokrateia nel santuario di Cefiso al Falero,” 124. Side B has led the shrine in question to be called the shrine of Echelus and the region identified as Echelidae. See also Benjamin D.Meritt, “A Decree of Orgeones,” Hesp. 11 (1942):275–303 at 284–286 for the reading lasile,

NOTES

72. 73.

74. 75.

76. 77.

78.

79.

80. 81. 82.

83. 84.

133

not Basile, as earlier editors read, influenced by evidence elsewhere for Basile and none for Iasile, rather than the appearance of the inscribed letters. For recent discussions of the names, see SEG 36.268. IG I3 986Bb. The reading of Guarducci, “L’offerta di Xenokrateia nel santuario di Cefiso al Falero,” 123 and fig. 4, followed by Hansen (CEG 2, p. 166) is ; IG I3 986 gives Wilhelm’s interpretation: . See Guarducci, ibid., for other interpretations. Meritt, “A Decree of Orgeones,” 275–303; inscription, p. 283. See Ferguson, “Attic Orgeones,” 73–79. His worship involved sacrifice of a mature victim, and “setting up a table”; the prescription of a pig for the heroines is somewhat suggestive of a chthonic character for his cult: Meritt, “A Decree of Orgeones,” 283, lines 14–16; 286. Walter, “Die Reliefs,” 118–19. Edwards, 354. Svoronos’s theory, which ties the images on the monuments of the cult to political ideology and the democratic leadership of Thrasybulus (I, 123–31; II, 503–506) is likewise implausible. Another theory worth considering (though unpublished) is that of Diskin Clay, who has suggested to me that the iconography may represent lasile’s heroic to Olympus. Edwards, 358. A parallel is available from an early fourth-century stele found in the ancient agora of Pharsalus; its inscription refers to an adjacent altar of Zeus Olympius, to whom the dedicator has erected the stele (and the altar?), adding a description or epithet of Zeus in his dedication, “to the king of gods” ( , Decourt, no. 58). Neither Zeus Olympius nor Basileus are otherwise attested in the cults of the immediate vicinity (Decourt, p. 76), and perhaps Zeus is here the recipient of a private shrine. Yavis’s collection suggests that inscribed altars do not often serve as the chief altar of the sanctuary until the Hellenistic period (Yavis, esp. 141, 143–45). See Pl. 2. Walter, “Die Reliefs,” 117; Jiri Frel and Bonnie M.Kingsley, “Three Attic Sculpture Workshops of the Early Fourth Century B.C.,” GRBS 11 (1970): 197–218 at 208, n. 14. Most recently and with references to earlier scholarship: Edwards, 342, 349–51; Güntner, 22. Edwards, 349. Walter, “Die Reliefs,” 110. I have no suggestions as to the meaning of this relief beyond the representation of the chief god of the shrine with his daughters and other local divinities. Edwards suggests that Echelus is introducing Cephisus to Artemis Munychia (352) but Cephisus does not look at all interested in Artemis, and it is unlikely that he was considered new to the region. Güntner, 22, suggests that the figure facing Artemis is another river god, perhaps Achelous, because he, like Cephisus, is bearded and wears similar clothes, but the discrepancy with the image of Achelous on Xenocratia’s relief and with Achelous’s depiction elsewhere makes this interpretation unlikely. Ael. VH 2.33. Ruth Michael Gais, “Some Problems of Iconography,” AJA 82 (1978):355–70 at 357–58. Walter theorizes that Cephisus appears on both reliefs, but as a mature

134 NOTES

85. 86. 87.

88. 89. 90.

91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102.

103.

104.

man on Cephisodotus’s relief because on it he is meant to be Cephisodotus’s “Namensgott” and the “Herr seiner Nymphen” and therefore not a youth (“Die Reliefs,” 110). This theory is called into question by the probable appearance of the nymphs also on Xenocratia’s relief and the absence of an attribute on each representation of the figure that would identify him as one and the same god. Walter, “Die Reliefs,” 104; Price, 126. LSJ s.v. and . H.I.Marrou, A History of Education in Antiquity. George Lamb, transl. (NY: Sheed Ward, 1956), 142–3; On problems of funding education: Arthur Alexis Bryant, “Boyhood and Youth in the Days of Aristophanes,” HSCP 18 (1907):73–122 at 107–108; Marc Kleijwegt, Ancient Youth: The Ambiguity of Youth and the Absence of Adolescence in Greco-Roman Society (Amsterdam: J.C.Gieben, 1991), 131. Thomas H.Carpenter, Art and Myth in Ancient Greece: A Handbook (NY: Thames and Hudson, 1991), 36; M.Gisler-Huwiler, “Cheiron,” LIMC 3 (1986). See J.D.Beazley, “Hymn to Hermes,” AJA 52 (1948):336–40 at 336–37. G.Siebert, “Hermes,” LIMC 5 (1990), 1:285–387 at 289; L.Farnell, Cults of the Greek States 5 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1909), 70–73, notes 48–78. See Diskin Clay, “A Gymnasium Inventory from the Athenian Agora,” Hesp. 46 (1977):259– 67 at 264–65 and n. 12 for Hermes in Hellenistic gymnasia and in this case, with Chiron. Farnell, Cults 5, 28. M.Jost, “Hermes,” OCD3, 690–91 at 690; testimonia in Farnell, Cults 5, 73–74, notes 83, 84. Plat. Crat. 408a–b. See T.G.Rosenmeyer, “Plato’s Prayer to Pan (Phaedrus 279B8– C3),” Hermes 90 (1962) 34–44 at 37. Siebert, “Hermes,” LIMC 5, nos. 358–61 and 365–71. Anti, 570–73; Linfert, 155–56. Arthur Pickard-Cambridge, The Dramatic Festivals of Athens2, revised by John Gould and D.M.Lewis (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), 55; 90–91. Cf. SEG 23.102; 26. 220, 221; Pickard-Cambridge, 55. Stais, 244. Svoronos, II, 499–500; Linfert, 150. Edwards, 313; Isler, “Acheloos,” LIMC 1, no. 197. Carpenter, 38 and fig. 53; Carlo Gasparri, “Dionysus,” LIMC 3 (1986), 1:414–514 at 415. F.Brommer, Die Skulpturen der Parthenon-Giebel: Katalog und Untersuchung (Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, 1963), 148–49 (Dionysus); E.Harrison, “Athena and Athens in the East Pediment of the Parthenon,” AJA 71 (1967):27–58 at 43–44 (Heracles). Ath. NM 1500; C.Robert, “Relief im Piraieus,” AM 7 (1882):388–96; Margarete Bieber, Die Denkmäler zum Theaterwesen im Altertum (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1920), 104–105, no. 41, pl. 53, who points out the similarity to the Parthenon figure (104); Spyros Meletzis and Helen Papadakis, National Museum of Archaeology, Athens. 6th ed. (Munich: Schnell and Steiner, 1970), 40. See Jean-Marie Dentzer, Le motif du banquet couché dans le proche-orient et le monde grec du Vlle au IVe siècle avant J.-C. (Rome: Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 246. Paris: E.de Boccard, 1982), 507–508, with Table 9, listing interpretations and bibliography.

NOTES

135

105. Robert, “Relief im Piraieus,” 394. 106. Paus. 1.2.5; Pol. frag. 40 Preller (ap. Athen. 2.39c); Farnell, Cults 5, 53; Robert, “Relief im Piraieus,” 394. 107. Niall W.Slater, “Vanished Players: Two Classical Reliefs and Theatre History,” GRBS 26 (1985):333–44 at 336–37, 340. 108. Noel Robertson, Review of Pierre Vidal-Naquet, The Black Hunter: Forms of Thought and Forms of Society in the Ancient World (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986), AJP 109 (1988):282–85 at 284–85, suggesting that Hellanicus created this myth in order to connect the widespread phratry festival to the Athenians’ role in the lonian migrations. The earliest source is Hellenicus FGrH 4 F 125; for a long list of others, see Pierre Vidal-Naquet in the work just mentioned, 123–24, n. 15. 109. John J.Winkler, “The Ephebe’s Song: Tragoidia and Polis,” in Id. and Froma I.Zeitlin, eds., Nothing to Do with Dionysos? (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990), 12–62, at 60. Winkler also notes that Dionysus has no role in the Apaturia, although Et. Mag. 118.55 reports that it was celebrated in his honor, a claim probably derived from the myth (35 and n. 45). 110. Silenus on a calyx crater by the Phiale painter, John Boardman, Athenian Red Figure Vases: The Classical Period (London: Thames and Hudson, 1989), fig. 126=Gasparri, “Dionysos,” LIMC 3, no. 686; cf. no. 705, Zeus? (This figure looks exactly like Dionysus in his portrayals as a bearded adult elsewhere.); nos. 667, 668 (animal skin as receiving blanket), 691, 701, 702, 703. 111. By nearly all the scholars who have advanced interpretations, except for Guarducci, “L’offerta di Xenokrateia nel santuario di Cefiso al Falero,” 62, who thinks it is a boundary stone. 112. A.D.Trendall and T.B.L.Webster, Illustrations of Greek Drama (London: Phaidon, 1971), figs. III. 1.3–5, 10–13; 3. 6–9; 20, 21, 41, 47–49. 113. See Yavis, index, s.v. “Representation of A[ltars] on Other Reliefs.” 114. Bieber, 91, fig. 97. 115. Bieber, 9, fig. 3. 116. Bieber, 10–11, figs. 4–6; Trendall and Webster, fig. 1.18. 117. E.g., IG II2 2318. 118. Trendall and Webster, 27, fig. 1.20. 119. Whitehead, Demes of Attica, 78. 120. Homolle plausibly suggested that the reliefs symbolize the union of Xenocratia and her son with the household of Cephisodotus (passim), although much of his argument relies on the erroneous identification of lasile with Basile and public ideology—a union of royal households—expressed in private dedications. 121. It is interesting to note that the text of Lysias 21.4 indicates that a Cephisodotus won a comic victory in 403/2 ( ). The passage has been emended to read Cephisodorus. (See A Körte, “Kephisodoros (5),” RE XI [1921] 227.) IG II2 2325 Column iii records K (restored ) as a comic poet who won at the Dionysia, presumably in this year. Should Clinton’s emendation be proven wrong, we could read Xenocratia’s inscription as an allusion to the winning of Cephisodotus, and as a prayer that his son will follow in his footsteps.

136 NOTES

122. Kron, 168. That Athenian women are not permitted to own land is repeatedly stressed by Sarah B. Pomeroy, Families in Classical and Hellenistic Greece: Representations and Realities (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), 10, 42, 142, 186 n. 98. 123. Lin Foxhall, “Household, Gender, and Property in Classical Athens,” CQ 39 (1989):22–44; Cheryl Ann Cox, Household Interests: Property, Marriage Strategies, and Family Dynamics in Ancient Athens (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1998), 134–35, with examples of contradictions to “laws” passim. 124. Van Straten, “Votives and Votaries,” 276–77; 281–82.

CHAPTER 3 (SEG 24.151) although it 1. Non-productive land in Attica was called technically belonged to the demes: Isager and Skydsgaard, 129. On state cave cults to the nymphs see Farnell, Cults 5, 424–25; H.Herter, “Nymphai,” RE 34 (1937), 1527–81 at 1544 (nymphs as protectresses of the polis), 1555–56 and 1558–72 passim (geographical register). 2. See esp. C.H.Weller, Maurice Edwards Dunham, Ida Carleton Thallon, Lida Shaw King, Samuel Eliot Bassett, “The Cave at Vari,” AJA 7 (1903):263–349 ; Herter, 1560; Nikolaus Himmelmann-Wildschütz, (Marburg-Lahn: Eukerdruck, 1957), 8–10, figs. 1–3; L.H.Jeffery, The Local Scripts of Archaic Greece (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1961), 319, 323, no. 17; Connor, “Seized by the Nymphs.” William Gell, “On Some of the Sacred Caverns of the Greeks,” unpublished ms. at the Gennadius Library, American School of Classical Studies at Athens, no. 57, 7v–27v. I include my transcription of this portion of the manuscript in the appendix to my PhD dissertation, “Founders and Innovators of Private Cults in Classicai Greece,” Duke University, 1998. 3. The possibility that Archedamus had children in Attica (suggested to me by Diskin Clay) cannot be discounted, but is nowhere indicated by the surviving evidence. 4. See David Whitehead, The Ideology of the Athenian Metic. Cambridge Philological Society Suppl. 4 (Cambridge: Cambridge Philological Society, 1977), 86–89. 5. IG I3 980. 6. F.Hiller von Gaertringen, Thera: Untersuchungen, Vermessungen und Ausgrabungen in den Jahren 1895–1902. I. Die Insel Thera in Altertum und Gegenwart (Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1899), 162. 7. IG I3 978; Maurice Edwards Dunham, “The Cave at Vari II: Inscriptions,” AJA 7 (1903):289–300 at 299, no. 18. 8. Dunham, 299. 9. Hom. Od. 17.205–11 (210–11 quoted). See also Floyd G.Ballentine, “Some Phases in the Cult of the Nymphs,” HSCP 15 (1904): 77–119 at 80–82; Herter, 1555. 10. IG XII.3 378; LGS 125; LSCG 132. 11. IG XII.3 377; LGS 126. 12. IG XII.3 350–363; Suppl. 1315–1318; Hiller, Thera I, 151, plates at 285–88; Jeffery, Local Scripts of Archaic Greece, 319, 323, no. 1b and pl. 61. Cyrene: SEG 9.325–346; Kathleen Forbes, “Some Cyrenaean Dedications,” Philologus 100 (1956):235–52 at 235–41. On use of the nominative see Lazzarini, 121 and 238–

NOTES

13.

14. 15.

16. 17.

18. 19.

20. 21. 22. 23. 24.

137

41, nos. 444–461; Lazzarini reads those from Thera, 240, no. 455 a-o, as invocations rather than dedications (121). Hiller, Thera I, 284 and facing plate; id., “Theräische Studien,” 58, suggesti ng connection of Theraean nymph cults to Archedamus’s cult; a cave near Apollo’s temple on Thera was, according to Hiller, perhaps first sacred to Chiron (54–55, 58); Jeffery, Local Scripts of Archaic Greece, 319. IG XII.3 439. Hiller produces two sketches of the inscription, the second of which reveals apices on phi. Hiller, Thera I, 302; F.Hiller von Gaertringen and P.Wilski, Thera: Untersuchungen, Vermessungen und Ausgrabungen in den Jahren 1895–1902. III. Stadtgeschichte von Thera (Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1904), 134. Charles Heald Weller, “The Cave at Vari I: Description, Account of Excavation, and History,” AJA 7 (1903):273–88, at 274; u on Plate 1. F.Hiller von Gaertringen, “Die Götterkulte von Thera,” Beiträge zur alten Geschichte (Klio) 1 (1902):212–27 at 217–18. Examples include the organization of a festival for Apollo, IG XII.3 Suppl. 1324, with Elizabeth M.Craik, The Dorian Aegean (London: Routledge, 1980), 178, and Carl Darling Buck, The Greek Dialects (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1955), 305–306, no. 111 (sixth or early fifth century), and dedication of land with a prescription of sacrifices to the Mother of the gods, IG XII.3 436, Buck, 306, no. 112, Syll3 1032, LSCG 134 (fourth century). Of the extant sacred laws from Thera (LGS 124–129; LSCG 131–135), none can be attributed to polis initiative with certainty. Hiller, Thera I, 161. Gell, 22v–23r; IG XII.5 245; Raubitschek’s dating is reported by Edward W.Bodnar, “A Quarry Relief on the Island of Paros,” Archaeology 26 (1973): 270–77 at 270 and 277; see also Daniele Berranger, “Le relief inscrit en I’hon-neur des nymphes dans les carrieres de Paros,” REA 85 (1983):235–57 at 238; Edwards, 795–809, no. 89. Travellers to Paros from the fifteenth century on recorded their impressions and sometimes sketched the relief, before it underwent severe erosion and removal of some figures, according to Diskin Clay, to the nearby monastery of Agios Mimas. In addition to Gell, see bibliography in Berranger, “Le relief,” 236 and the collection of testimonia in ead., Recherches sur l’histoire et la prosopographie de Paros a I’époque archaïque. Faculté des Lettres et Sciences humaines de I’Université Blaise-Pascal, n.s. 36 (Clermont-Ferrand: P Université Blaise-Pascal, 1992), 381, 387, 398–400, 403. The most useful sketches are those of Le Bas and Stuart (see Berranger, “Le relief,” 256, pl. II; Bodnar, 272 and 271. Both articles give photos as well.). First identified by Otto Rubensohn, “Paros,” RE 18 (1949), 1781–1872 at 1855. Edwards notes that Bendis holds a phiale (798 and 805, n. 3). Gell, 22v; Otto Walter, “ ,” ÖJh 31 (1939): 53–80 at 71 and n. 88. Hdt. 6.134 (Demeter on Paros); Berranger, “Le relief,” 246; Bodnar, 276. Berranger, “Le relief,” 253–54. Multiple registers: on the Dionysus rhyton from the Roussé treasure, Ivan Marazov, “Thracian Art,” in Alexander Fol and Ivan Marazov, eds., Thrace and the Thracians (NY: St. Martin’s Press, 1977), 60–128 at 115–17. Detached heads: id., “Thracian Religion,” in Ibid., 17–36 at 28 (lower right) and 34–35.

138 NOTES

25. See Werner Fuchs, “Attische Nymphenreliefs,” AM 77 (1962):242–49; Hausmann, 58–62, Plates 30–32; Van Straten, “Gifts for the Gods,” 82–83; figs. 17–10. 26. For Thasians in Thrace, see Hdt. 6.46. 27. See Benjamin Isaac, The Greek Settlements in Thrace until the Macedonian Conquest. Studies of the Dutch Archaeological and Historical Society 10 (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1986), esp. 11, 59, 157, 248–49, on Thracian nymphs adopted by Greeks. 28. See Dunham, 300, for a chart of the letter forms, demonstrating the inconsistencies between the inscriptions containing Archedamus’s name. 29. Cf. Jeffery, Local Scripts of Archaic Greece, 319: Archedamus’s inscriptions “are not in Attic, and therefore presumably are in Archedamus’s native script; but it is no longer the ‘primitive’ alphabet.” 30. Jeffery, Local Scripts of Archaic Greece, 319 and Plate 61, no. 16=IG XII.3 Suppl. 1324 (480–450 B.C.), which shows that Archaic Theraean letter forms were being replaced by Attic and lonic letters in the fifth century; but the interpretation of this inscription is disputed, largely due to uncertainty whether it is written entirely in Doric dialect, i.e., O=O or , as in most of Archedamus’s inscriptions. See also Margherita Guarducci, Epigrafia Greca 1 (Rome: Istituto Poligraphico, 1967), 348 and comm. on no. 7, p. 354; Craik, 54. 31. E.g., IG XII. 3 785, Guarducci, Epigrafia 1, 354, no. 7 and fig. 183. 32. Guarducci, Epigrafia 1, 354–55, no. 8. 33. E.g., IG XII.3811. 34. Leslie Threatte, The Grammar of Attic Inscriptions I: Phonology (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1980), 33–40. 35. IG I3 773; Threatte, 131–32, for this and other examples. 36. Threatte, 35–38: foreigners, including Archedamus, no. 11; 39–40: vases, with two forms of lambda in . 37. See the chart in Dunham, 300. 38. v.l. . 39. [Xen.] Ath. Pol. 2.8 claims that it is possible to hear spoken at Athens every , and that the Athenians had adopted a mixture of customs, including those of language, from other Greeks and foreigners. If this statement represents a widely held view rather than rhetoric, it is possible that Archedamus varied his dialect at least partly because he thought the nymphs, as Attic nymphs, preferred this diversity of expression. 40. A.E.Raubitschek, “Das Denkmal-Epigramm,” in id., ed., L’Épigramme grecque. Entretiens sur l’Antiquité classique 14. Vandoeuvres-Geneva, 1967 (Geneva: Fondation Hardt, 1968), 3–36 at 9; on the function of the dedicatory inscription as a reenactment of the ritual of consecration, see Joseph W. Day, “Interactive Offerings: Early Greek Dedicatory Epigrams and Ritual,” HSCP 96 (1994): 37–74, esp. 54, 70. 41. Dunham, 299, no. 20; IG I2 788; IG I3 980; Margherita Guarducci, Epigrafia Greca 3 (Rome: Istituto Poligrafico, 1974), 11–12 and fig. 1; CEG 1.321. 42. SEG 29. 50; CEG 1.321. Hansen (CEG 1, p. 172) thinks it unlikely that the others are intentionally metrical (but see below on IG I3 977B). For the meters proposed see SEG 10. 332 and 29.48–49. 43. Dunham, 300. Connor, too, believes that the lapse of time accounts for variants (“Seized by the Nymphs,” 167–68, n. 42). 44. Himmelmann-Wildschütz, 9–10.

NOTES

139

45. Decourt, 91, on nos. 72 and 73. 46. Philippe Borgeaud, The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece. Transl. Kathleen Atlass and James Redfield (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988), 104 and 107. 47. 1G I3 979; Figure 3; Dunham, 299, no. 19; Weller, 270–73 and figs. 5, 6 (270–71). Figure 3 (=Weller’s figure 6=sketch from Curtius and Kaupert, Atlas von Athen [Berlin 1878] Pl. viii, 2) reads , but was copied by Gell (16r). See also Pierre Amandry, “L‘Antre Corycien dans les Textes Antiques et Modernes,” in L’Antre Corycien 1. BCH Suppl. 7 (Paris: E.de Boccard, 1981), 29–74 at 68, fig. 7. The latter is given as the correct reading by Dunham (sketch, 299) and subsequent editions. 48. Dunham, 270–71 and fig. 6; IG I3 981; David Gill, Greek Cult Tables (NY: Garland, 1991), 38, no. 8, fig. 17. Gell read EPE (16v); for other variants and possibilities (Hermes?) see Connor, “Seized by the Nymphs,” 182–83, n. 86. 49. Arthur Bernard Cook, Zeus: A Study in Ancient Religion 3 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1940), 261–65 and n. 7 compares Zeus Ersaios and discusses the function of Apollo as “‘Dew’-god.” 50. Gill, 38. In IG I3 981 the table is dated tentatively to 400 due to dialect and letter variants. 51. It is listed among the “Uncommon” fifth-century tables in Gill’s corpus. 52. IG XII.3 351; 353 (with sketches): Hiller, Thera 1, 149. 53. Weller on Archedamus’s table, 270, n. 1: “upper level, width, 0.80 m”; Hiller, Thera I, 149, on Archaic rock recesses: “etwa 1 Fuss Breite.” 54. Gell, 16r. 55. See IG XII.3 536–601 (graffiti), 762–871 (sepulchral), SGDI IV 71–75, pp. 797–98 (a collection of inscribed Theraean names). Roman period examples: IG XII.3 613. 5–6, ; 659, . 56. Hiller, “Götterkulte,” 216–17. 57. Hiller and Wilski, Thera III, 63. 58. Gell, 24v; Lewis Richard Farnell, The Cults of the Greek States 4 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1907), 130 and note d; Pantalces’s cave at Pharsalus; cave of Apollo Hypacraeus in Athens: John Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary of Ancient Athens (NY: Praeger, 1971), 91–94 with figs. 115, 116, 118. 59. Pind. Pyth. 4. 294. 60. Hdt. 4. 158. 61. Pind. Pyth. 5.89; Malkin, Religion and Colonization, 154. 62. FranÇois Chamoux, Cyrène sous la monarchie des Battiades. Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athenes et de Rome Fasc. 177 (Paris: E.de Boccard, 1953), 130–31; pls. 14–16; Malkin, Religion and Colonization, 154–55; Id., Myth and Territory in the Spartan Mediterranean (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 143–63. 63. Chamoux, 127, 276–78; Pind. Pyth. 9.9–10; SEG 9.109, 110 (Hellenistic altar and statue dedications). 64. As Connor, “Seized by the Nymphs,” 171, n. 52, comments, “There is no trace here of a fear of the banausic.” 65. S.Casson, “Some Technical Methods of Archaic Sculpture,” JHS 50 (1930):313–26 at 317. 66. Gell, 16r.

140 NOTES

67. IG I3 977, ca. 425?, Dunham, 297–98, nos. 17 and 16, with photos and sketches; SGDI IV 70 a and b (pp. 796–97). 68. Comm. on IG I3 977. See Amandry, “Appendice. La Visite de William Gell à l’Antre Corycien,” in L’Antre Corycien 1, 55–74 at 68, fig. 7, a page of Gell’s sketches that include a segment (the central letters) of this inscription. Gell must have made the sketch at a later visit to the cave, since at page 13 in his discussion of the Vari cave he implies that he did not see the stone himself and gives a translation of an earlier visitor to the cave (Richard Chandler). 69. Connor “Seized by the Nymphs,” 180. 70. Weller, 264. On this type of garden, see Herter, 1538–39; Pierre Grimal, Les jardins Romains (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1969), 65–68, 70–76; André Motte, Prairies et Jardins de la Grèce Antique. De la Religion à la Philosophie. Académie de Belgique. Mémoires de la Classe des Lettres 8, ser. 2, T. 61, fasc. 5 (Brussels: Palais des Académies, 1973), passim, and 88–89 on nymphs; Connor, “Seized by the Nymphs,” 169–70. 71. See Figure 4. 72. Kirchhoff, IG I 424b; first interpreted thus by Richard Chandler: Gell, 13r. 73. M.J.Osborne, Naturalization in Athens 3 (Brussels: Paleis der Academiën — Hertogsstraat 1, 1983), 122. 74. F.Hiller von Gaertringen, “IG I 424,” Hermes 39 (1904):472–73. 75. Hiller, “Theräische Studien,” 58. 76. Otto Hoffman, SGDI IV 70 (p. 796). 77. Weller, 281. 78. Connor “Seized by the Nymphs,” 171–72, on the basis of Arist. Probl. 954al4. 79. On Theraean -E for -EI see SGDI IV, p. 801. Buck, 94, no. 114 lists as a form attested in Heraclea. Theraean and Old Attic used e to designate long and short ‘e’ and 80. IG I3 980. 81. Guarducci, Epigrafia 1, 93–94. 82. IG XIV 645. See Buck, 349. 83. See Hoffmann, SGDI IV, pp. 800–801 and 807 for occurrences of both uses on Thera. 84. IG VII 3467, Guarducci, Epigrafia 1, 363 and fig. 112. 85. IG I3 264.3 and 265.33. 86. IG I3 278.25 and 279.88. 87. Threatte, 470, no. 38.03. 88. Threatte (494) notes that Attic omission of h in certain words may reflect pronunciation. The only dialects that omitted all rough breathing are East Ionic, Lesbian, Elean, Cyprian, and Cretan (Buck, 53, no. 57). 89. Threatte, 369. 90. Threatte, 592, 595. 91. Connor, “Seized by the Nymphs,” 173 (e.g., ). 92. See Day, 53. 93. The loss of the rock makes it impossible to determine whether the word may have served as an object of a verb. For dedicatory inscriptions designating the divinity in the accusative, see Van Straten, “Daikrates’s Dream,” 19, n. 280. 94. E.g., the sanctuary of Nymphe in Athens: Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary, 361. For others, see Herter, 1531; 1537.

NOTES

141

95. For other examples, see Herter, 1537. 96. Rouse, 333; Lazzarini, 135 and nos. 800, 801; CEG 1.352, 345, 367, 418. See Day, 55–56 and n. 74, for a comparison of these with similar requests in literature that the god receive the song. See Simon Pulleyn, Prayer in Greek Religion (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), 218, for other literary occurrences of in prayers; 220, for the similar use of in Hom. Il. 10 462, Od. 24.402, and IG V.1 1119 (C£G 2. 822). Day, 56–63, compares literary and epigraphic uses of and its cognates in requests that a god enjoy the offering and grant joy in return. 97. FD III.4 187 (Lazzarini, no. 800, CEG 1.345). 98. IG IV2 1.237 (CEG 2.818), ca. 400?, Epidaurus. 99. See Longinus, Subl. 22.1 on the enhancement of emotion by means of hyperbata. 100. For example, Tyrtaeus exhorts warriors, (Tyrt. 10.19–20). For other examples see R.L.Fowler, The Nature of Early Greek Lyric: Three Preliminary Studies (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1987), 135–37. 101. Antony E.Raubitschek, Dedications from the Athenian Akropolis: A Catalogue of the Inscriptions of tbe Sixth and Fifth Centuries B.C. Edited with the collaboration of Lilian H.Jeffery (Cambridge, MA: Archaeological Institute of America, 1949), 425. 102. Pierre Amandry, “Le Culte des Nymphes et de Pan à l’Antre Corycien,” in L’Antre Coryden 2. BCH Suppl. 9 (Paris: E.de Boccard, 1984), 395–425 at 418–19, figs. 11b–d, 12a. 103. Weller, 273–74, Plate 1, u. 104. Figure 5; Weller, 267–68 and fig. 4; Freidrich Muthmann, Mutter und Quelle (Basel: Archäeologischer Verlag, 1975), Plate 16, figs. 3 and 4. 105. Weller, 283; Connor “Seized by rhe Nymphs,” 185. 106. Connor “Seized by the Nymphs,” 186. For surveys of previous conjectures see Connor “Seized by the Nymphs,” 185; Cook, 263–65, n. 7. Gell suggested that she is Cybele or Demeter (22r). There was a “Felsthron” of Demeter and Core in the agora at Thera near a cave (Hiller, Thera I, 200, with photo), but lacking the elaborate carving of Archedamus’s chair as well as a stone image of either goddess. 107. Pl. 5; Gell, 23r; Weller, 269 and fig. 4. 108. See Connor “Seized by the Nymphs,” for the possible symbolic significance of the omphalos in this context. 109. Walter Burkert, Homo Necans: The Anthropology of Andent Greek Sacrificial Ritual and Myth. Translated by Peter Bing (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), 126–27; Hans-Volkmar Herrmann, Omphalos. Orbis Antiquus 13 (Münster Westf: Aschendorffsche, 1959), 102, with plates, on which the omphalos always appears between figures or surrounding architecture, if not in the center of the composition. An object that may be an omphalos (or simply a rock seat?) appears on fourth-century reliefs from the Vari cave but also frequently elsewhere: Herrmann, 89–90, n. 278; 106, 108. 110. Gell, 23r; Weller, 269. 111. Weller, 274. 112. IG I3 976A; Amandry, “Le Culte des Nymphes,” 418, fig. 11c (photo). 113. IG XII.3 Suppl. 1312; Hiller and Wilski, Thera III, 64; Hiller, “Götterkulte,” 216.

142 NOTES

114. Weller, 275. On singular Charis, see Evelyn B. Harrison, “Charis, Charites,” LIMC 3 (1986), 1:191–203 at 200 and nos. 1–5. 115. Weller, 276. 116. Weller, 275. 117. IG I3 982 (Gell, 17v; Dunham, 296 no. 15). For this translation of , see György Németh, “‘ ’: Regulations Concerning Everyday Life in a Greek Temenos,” in Hägg, ed., Ancient Greek Cult Practice, 59–64 at 63. 118. Weller, 278, notes that bones, goat horns, and signs of fire are scattered throughout the cave but do not necessarily indicate sacrifice. 119. Weller, 274–75 and fig. 9; and on Plate 1. 120. Weller, 274; q on Plate 1. 121. IG I3 974; Werner Peek, “Attische Inschriften,” AM 67 (1942, publ. 1951): 1–217 at 39–40, no. 47; Lazzarini, no. 757. 122. The word does not occur in prosopographical corpora as a proper name, except for this instance, in J.S.Traill, Persons of Ancient Athens 1 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994), 244, no. 114350, and a questionable occurrence in imperial Aegina, IG IV. 1 127, listed in P.M.Fraser and E.Matthews, eds., A Lexicon of Greek Personal Names IIIA: The Peloponnese, Western Greece, Sicily, and Magna Graecia (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), s.v. See L.Robert, “Épitaphe d’un berger a Thasos,” in Hellenica: Recueil d‘épigraphie de numismatique et d’antiquities grecques 7 (Paris, Librairie d’Amerique et d’Orient, 1949), 152–60 at 158 for the interpretation of as goatherd rather than a proper name (as is assumed by Markellos Th.Mitsos, “Inscriptions from Athens IV,” in George E.Mylonas and Doris Raymond, eds., Studies Presented to David Moore Robinson 2 [St. Louis: Washington University, 1953], 349–52 at 349) and for as a reference to an altar. 123. Himmelmann-Wildschütz, 28 n. 18. 124. See Robert, “Épitaphe d’un berger a Thasos,” 158, for epigraphic evidence of shepherds as dedicators and contributors to cult sacrifices. 125. Lida Shaw King, “The Cave at Vari IV: Vases, Terra-Cotta Statuettes, Bronzes, and Miscellaneous Objects,” AJA 7 (1903): 320–34. 126. King, 324, 326–27 and fig. 2. 127. See Ida Carleton Thallon, “The Cave at Vari. III: Marble Reliefs,” AJA 7 (1903): 301–310, Plates III–IX; Edwards, 439–49, nos. 15 and 16, and for inscriptions, Dunham, 289–91, nos. 1–6. On a possible dedication by a freed slave, see IG II2 4655 (Peek, 55, no. 90, fifth century). 128. IG I3 976 b and c; Dunham, 295, nos. 12 and 13. The letters may be contemporary with or earlier than Archedamus’s. 129. Weller, 266–67, fig. 3. 130. See Parker, Athenian Religion, 164–167 with n. 38 and Map 2; Borgeaud, 160– 161; Edwards, chapter 2, with catalogue. 131. Weller, 279–80; Herter, 1557. 132. Weller, 284. 133. Connor, “Seized by the Nymphs,” 172, 184–85. 134. Gell, passim. 135. Craik, 195–96. 136. Day, 69.

NOTES

143

137. Connor, “Seized by the Nymphs,” 164. For bibliography on later nympholepsy, see too Van Straten, “Daikrates’s Dream,” 19, n. 279. 138. E.g., Gell, 19v–20r, citing Plutarch and Propertius. 139. Men. Dys. 643. See Borgeaud, 105–106. 140. Hom. Il. 1.361; 18.71. 141. H.G.Lolling, “Inschriften aus der korykischen Grotte,” AM 3 (1878):154; SEG 3. 406; Amandry, “Le Culte des Nymphes,” 344–45. 142. Pl. Phdr. 238b–c, 241e, 263d; Connor, “Seized by the Nymphs,” 159–60. On later sources, see Gell, 19v–20r, on Propertius and Plutarch; Connor “Seized by the Nymphs,” 156–66, discusses Classical and later evidence. 143. Borgeaud, 105; Connor, “Seized by the Nymphs,” 160, on similarity between nympholepsy and poetic inspiration in lon. On the association of nymphs with Muses see Farnell, Cults 5, 434–35; Hiller, “Theräische Studien,” 58; Herter, 1546. 144. Diskin Clay, “Socrates’s Prayer to Pan,” in Glen W.Bowersock, Walter Burkert, and Michael C.J.Putnam, eds., Arktouros: Hellenic Studies Presented to Bernard M.W.Knox on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1979), 345–53, esp. 349–50. 145. Arist. Eud. Eth. 1214a. 146. Paus. 10.12.11. See also Connor, “Seized by the Nymphs,” 160–61 on Bacis, and 160–62 on the connection of nympholepsy to prophesy. 147. Hier.: , , Tryg.: . Hier.: …(Ar. Peace, 1070–73). 148. Hdt. 8.20, 77, 96; 9.43. 149. Himmelmann-Wildschütz, 13–25; Connoc, “Seized by the Nymphs,” 160. 150. Ca. 500 B.C.: a naked child holding hands with one of three nymphs led by Hermes: Himmelmann-Wildschütz, 13, fig. 4; Hausmann, 11, fig. 1; Güntner A2, pl. 1.1 (Ath. Akr. Mus. 702). 151. Ca. 400 B.C., a man extends in his hand something that was painted, nearly touching the hand of Hermes, who leads the nymphs: Edwards, no. 5; Günt-ner A 31, pl. 6. 152. Late fifth-century dedication to the Nymphs and Pan by Archandrus (IG II2 4545), who holds up his hand in a gesture of prayer: Edwards, no. 1; Güntner A8, pl. 1.2. 153. E.g., Hdt. 4.79.4; Eur. Bacch. 154. Hdt. 4.13–16. 155. J.D.P.Bolton, Aristeas of Proconnesus (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962), 136–41, 179. 156. LSJ sv.; Connor “Seized by the Nymphs,” 173. 157. IG V.2 261.15; compared to Archedamus’s inscription in the commentary to the inscription and by Connor, “Seized by the Nymphs,” 173, n. 61. See also Lazzarini, 110, on the use of the word in the inscriptions discussed here; Lazzarini regards Archedamus’s inscription using the word as part of a narrative of his deeds rather than as a dedication (110, n. 211), but we should not expect that dedication of work on a cave would be expressed in the same language as the more common dedications commemorating erection of a stele or relief. 158. IG I3 750, Raubitschek, Dedications, 325–26, no. 302, Lazzarini, no. 871, CEG 1. 247.

144 NOTES

159. IG I3 773A, Raubitschek, Dedications, 272–73, no. 236, Lazzarini, no. 736; CEG 1. 243. Cf. CEG 2.888.1.8–9, the dedication of a statue by a Lycian dynast of the fourth century B.C.: …. For other examples of the word designating an oracle see comm. on CEG 1.243, p. 130. 160. Epiphanies attested in inscriptions were probably experienced as described in literature: F.Pfister, “Epiphanie,” RE Suppl. 4 (1924), 277–323 at 316. 161. B.C.Dietrich, “Divine Epiphanies in Homer,” Numen 30 (1983):53–79 at 69. 162. Dodds, 103–104, 108. 163. Dodds, 108–117; Hippocr. Int. 48 (7.286 L.), noted as relevant to the visions of Hesiod, Pheidippides, and Pindar by Dodds, 117 and 131, n. 90. Connor notes that this description occurs in a discussion on the effects of excess bile and is perhaps an effort to explain nympholepsy (“Seized by the Nymphs,” 172, n.56). 164. J.E.Jones, A.J.Graham, L.H.Sackett, “An Attic Country House below the Cave of Pan at Vari,” BSA 68 (1973):355–443 at 442–43 n. 242; on evidence for beekeeping, 415–16. 165. Whitehead, Ideology, 70–71: enktesis was awarded in return for benefactions to the polis, which metics, usually craftsmen or traders, were often unable to give. 166. E.g., Van Straten, “Daikrates’s Dream,” 19. 167. Dodds, 116–17. 168. See Rouse, 330–31; Pfister, 298–99; Dodds, 108–109, 125, nn. 31 and 32; Van Straten, “Daikrates’s Dream,” 1–37, with a list of sources for cult foundations and calls to priesthoods, 16, notes 239 and 240, and a catalogue of terms used to express encounters, 21–27; Arthur Darby Nock, “Studies in the Graeco-Roman Beliefs of the Empire,” in id., Essays on Religion and the Ancient World. Selected and edited by Zeph Stewart (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972), 33–48 at 45–48. 169. Pfister, 314–16; H.S.Versnel, “What Did Ancient Man See When He Saw a God? Some Reflections on Greco-Roman Epiphany,” in Dirk van der Plas, ed., Effigies Dei. Essays on the History of Religions. Studies in the History of Religions. Numen Suppl. 51 (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1987), 42–55; G.Mussies,” Identification and SelfIdentification of Gods in Classical and Hellenistic Times,” in R.Van den Broek, T.Baarda, and J.Mansfeld, eds., Knowledge of God in the Graeco-Roman World. EPRO 112 (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1988), 1–18. 170. Versnel, “Greco-Roman Epiphany,” 50–52. 171. Pl. Laws, 5.738b–c, 10.909e-910a; [Pl.] Epin. 985c. 172. IG XII.3 421–422, 863; XII 3 Suppl. 1333–1348; Hiller, Thera I, 166, 171, 187, 198, 199, 272; Hiller and Wilski, Thera III, 89–102; Hiller, “Götterkulte,” 219–21; Van Straten, “Daikrates’s Dream,” 18, figs 23–26; Id., “Images of Gods and Men,” 260–61 and figs. 24–28; Susan Guettel Cole, Theoi Megaloi: The Cult of the Great Gods at Samothrace. EPRO 96 (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1984), 61–64; Olga Pagalia, “Cult and Allegory: The Life Story of Artemidorus of Perge,” in Jan Motyka Sanders, ed., : Lakonian Studies in Honour of Hector Catling (London: British School at Athens, 1992), 171–77; Kron, 152–53; Graf, 107–12. 173. IG XII.3 1336. 174. IG XII.3 422 and XII.3 Suppl. 1333; Hiller and Wilski, Thera III, fig. 75. 175. IG XII.3 Suppl. 1337. 176. IG XII.3 494 and XII.3 Suppl. 1330.

NOTES

145

177. IG XII.3 Suppl. 1345–1347; Hiller and Wilski, Thera III, figs. 79–81; Van Straten, “Images of Gods and Men,” figs. 25 (lion and eagle), 27 (dolphin); Pagalia, 173– 74, figs. 48 b (lion and eagle) and c (dolphin). 178. IG XII.3 464, with Cole, 127, n. 499. 179. Tyche: IG XII.3 1338; Hecate and Priapus: IG XII.3 421, Suppl. 1335; Nymphs?: IG XII.3 1340. 180. Cole, frontpiece; Van Straten, “Images of Gods and Men,” fig. 28; Pagalia, 172, fig. 48d. Pagalia argues that it is rarher a representation of Artemis of Perge as she appears on coins. 181. Craik, 39. 182. Career: Hiller, Thera I, 272; Hiller and Wilski,Thera III, 100–101; citizenship and honors: IG XII.3 1344, 1345, 1348; Hiller and Wilski, Thera III, 96; Cole 62; Van Straten, “Images of Gods and Men,” 261. 183. Cole, 63; Pagalia, 173, notes that most of the divinities were worshipped in Alexandria, the base of Artemidorus’s former patrons and employers, the Ptolemies. See also Graf, 109–112, on the expression of Hellenistic trends and of Artemidorus’s political life in this cult. 184. Pl. Laws, 10.909e-910a. 185. Lazzarini, 110–11; Van Straten, “Daikrates’s Dream,” in his catalogue of terms used to express divine orders (21–27), lists fifth-century evidence only under his miscellaneous category, “Other expressions,” 26. 186. W.R.Paton and E.L.Hicks, The Inscriptions of Cos (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1891), no. 53. 187. G.E.Bean, “Notes and Inscriptions from Caunus,” JHS 74 (1954):85–105 at 95–99, nos. 37B.6; 38C.16, [E.4], with discussion of this inscription at 96; Henri Metzger, “Le Sanctuaire de Léto,” in Fouilles de Xanthos VI: La Stèle Trilingue du Létoon (Paris: C.Klincksieck, 1979), 9–28, at 32–33 (fourthcentury inscription, lines 7, 15– 16, 22–23), 38. 188. IPriene 196 (CEG 2.854); Van Straten, “Daikrates’s Dream,” 16. 189. Hiller on IPriene 196. 190. Martin Schede, Die Ruinen von Priene. Archäologisches Institut des Deutschen Reiches Abteilung Istanbul (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1934), 12 and fig. 15. Hiller’s original dating of Priene inscriptions has been revised, and this inscription could have been carved later than the mid-fourth century: see Simon Hornblower, Mausolus (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1982), 324 n. 251. The excavations turned up no finds dating before the mid-fourth century, but the transfer of the city proposed by the excavators is unattested in literature or inscriptions and may not have occurred: Nancy Demand, “The Relocation of Priene Reconsidered,” Phoenix 40 (1986):35–44. 191. Helga Botermann, “Wer baute das neue Priene?” Hermes 122 (1994):162–87 at 185–87 on IPriene 1, a decree of Alexander granting privileges to “Prienians, who dwell in Naulochon” (1–2), but not to those “who are not Prienians” (9), and then seemingly rephrasing the same edict in reference to “the polis of Prienians” (14). 192. Schede (12) suggests that Philius was a merchant. On Cypriot trade, see A.T.Reyes , Archaic Cyprus: A Study of the Textual and Archaeological Evidence (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 26–28; Ps.-Scylax, 103, on harbor. 193. Tac. Hist. 4.83; Van Straten (“Daikrates’s Dream,” 16) lists other parallels to support his interpretation that Philius saw the vision three times.

146 NOTES

194. Hiller gives and equates this with , but is better attested. 195. A hero-shrine did not necessarily contain a tomb, and the proximity of the fountain house here may be significant, as springs and cisterns are sometimes the central feature of hero shrines: Emily Kearns, “Between God and Man: Status and Function of Heroes and their Sanctuaries,” in Schachter and Bingen, eds., Le Sanctuaire Grec, 65–99 at 67–69. The situation of a hero who protects a city at its boundaries is also common: Ibid., 73–74. 196. G.Kleiner, “Priene,” RE Suppl. 9 (1962), 1181–1221 at 1199–1201 on the cult of Demeter, established in the fourth century. 197. BMI IV 813, CEG 2.860; W.Blümel, Die Inschriften von Knidos I (Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien 41, Bonn: Dr.Rudolf Hambelt, 1992), 76, no. 131; Kron, 150–53. 198. Kron, 150–53, argues that the inscription refers to a cult foundation, but is often used for buildings other than temples; see Blümel, 76; Robert Schlaifer, “Demon of Paeania, Priest of Asclepius,” CP 38 (1943):39–43 at 41–42, for dedications of “houses” to cults and their functions. 199. Van Straten, “Daikrates’s Dream,” 3–4. 200. Garland, Introducing New Gods, 122; for a catalogue of evidence for Asclepius cults see Alessandra Semeria, “Per un censimento degli Asklepieia della Grecia continentale e delle Isole,” AnnPisa ser. 3. 16 (1986):931–58. 201. See Garland, Introducing New Gods, 128 for “tenuous” speculations that have been made about his identity. Parker, Athenian Religion, 178, suggests the possibility that Telemachus was an Epidaurian. 202. L.Beschi, “Il monumento di Telemachos, fondatore dell’ Asklepieion Ateniese,” ASAtene 45/46 (1967/68) 381–436; Id., “Il rilievo di Telemachos ricompletato,” AAA 15 (1982):31–43; Garland, Introducing New Gods, 116–135, relief: 118–21 and 119, fig. 12; Van Straten, “Votives and Votaries,” 266–67; Id., “Images of Gods and Men,” 259. 203. IG II2 4960 and 4961.15–16, in Beschi, “Il monumento di Telemachos,” 412–13, and Clinton, “Epidauria,” 21–22. Site of the sanctuary: Travlos, Pictorial Dictionary, 127. Rivalry with the Kerykes, Eumolpids, and Sophocles: S.B.Aleshire, The Athenian Asklepieion: The people, Their Dedications, and the Inventories (Amsterdam: J.C.Gieben, 1989), 8–11; Garland, Introducing New Gods, 126; Clinton, “Epidauria,” 28–34. Fritz Graf, “Heiligtum und Ritual. Das Beispiel der griechisch-römischen Asklepieia,” in Schachter and Bingen, eds., Le sanctuaire grec, argues that many of Asclepius’s sanctuaries were located outside of the city proper in order to express the essentially non-political character of the cult and to high light the opposition between Inside and Outside, polis and (159–99). These extra-urban locations, however, may also be directly related to the kind of land on which a private individual would be most likely to establish a shrine: rural property no doubt offered cheaper and more spacious grounds than city property, and was less likely to be disputed. 204. IG II2 4355, CEG 2.763. This and the following inscription are dated to ca. 350, seventy years after Telemachus introduced the cult. If the date and restoration are correct, his sons or grandsons may have been responsible for the inscriptions, perhaps copied on stone from wooden tablets erected earlier. 205. IG II2 4358, CEG 2.765, according to Hansen (CEG 2, p. 181), not connected to no. 763.

NOTES

147

206. Van Staten, “Daikrates’s Dream,” assumes without explanation that both Archedamus and Telemachus founded their cults “in accordance with a dream” (16 and n. 239). 207. H.W.Pleket, “Religious History as the History of Mentality: The ‘Believer’ as Servant of the Deity in the Greek World,” in Versnel, ed., Faith, Hope, and Worship, 152–92, at 160–61. 208. See W.Kendrick Pritchett, Greek State at War 3: Religion (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979), 11–46 on “military epiphanies.” 209. See Pfister, 292–293; on all types of epiphany in Hdt. see Rebecca H.Sinos, “Divine Selection. Epiphany and Politics in Archaic Greece,” in Carol Dougherty and Leslie Kurke, Cultural Poetics in Archaic Greece, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 73–91. 210. Hdt. 6.105–106. 211. Garland, Introducing New Gods, 47–63. See also Borgeaud, 133–35; for later variants of the story, 243, n. 2. 212. E.g., Beschi, who links the cults of Xenocratia, Archedamus and Telemachus by claiming they were founded because of the stresses of the Peloponnesian War (“Il monumento di Telemachos,” 435), and Garland, who admits Telemachus’s cult seems less politically motivated than the other cults that he discusses, but proposes that the plague had much to do with its foundation (Introducing New Gods, 130– 32). 213. See Lazzarini, 132–36; Van Straten, “Gifts for the Gods,” 70–74; Emily Kearns, Heroes of Attica, Bull. Suppl. 57 (London: Institute of Classical Studies, 1989), 11.

CHAPTER 4 1. Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Glaube der Hellenen 1–2 (Berlin: Benno Schwabe & Co. 1932, repr. 1955), 2:237. 2. Theodor Gomperz, Greek Thinkers: A History of Ancient Philosophy, G.G.Berry , Transl. (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1905), 2:124, 135–36. . Oeuvre anonyme ou 3. Carsten Høeg,“ psudonyme ou orthonyme?” CM 11 (1950):151–79 at 176; Leo Strauss, “Xenophon’s Anabasis” Interpretation 4 (1974):117–47, at 129. 4. E.g., Strauss, 129, remarks that Xenophon was pious, “provided one adds that his piety is hard to distinguish from that combination of toughness, wittiness and wiliness…,” and (at 133), “One cannot help wondering how Xenophon’s extraordinary piety went together with his extraordinary wiliness.” 5. Eg., Hom. Il. 1. 39–41, 218. In addition to the references regarding future favors in the previous chapter, see Van Straten, “Gifts for the Gods,” 65–151; H.S.Versnel, “Religious Mentality in Ancient Prayer,” in id., Faith Hope and Worship, 1–64, esp. 56; Pulleyn, 16–17; 26–38. 6. Richard Walzer, “Sulla religione de Senofonte,” AnnPisa5 (1936):17–32; J. K.Anderson, Xenophon (London: Duckworth, 1974), esp. 34–35. 7. Jon D.Mikalson, Athenian Popular Religion (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1983); Simon Price, esp. 1–4. 8. Both terms are used by Xenophon as well as by modern scholars. “The Ten Thousand” originally consisted of about 9,600 hoplites and perhaps 2,100 light-

148 NOTES

9. 10. 11. 12.

13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

20.

21.

22.

armed troops. See H.W.Parke, Greek Mercenary Soldiers (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1933), 24–26. “Cyreans,” often found in passages referring to the troops after Cyrus’s death (e.g., Hell. 3.2.7), will be used here. Xen. Anab. 5.3.3. For an account of the fluctuation of the mercenaries’ numbers, see J.Roy, “The Mercenaries of Cyrus,” Hist. 16 (1967):287–323, at 318. Xen. Anab. 5.3.4–13. Text: E.C.Marchant, Xenophontis Opera Omnia 3: Expeditio Cyri (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1904). Chirisophus had gone in search of ships for the return voyage. The dating of the cult as Xenophon describes it as well as of the Anabasis’s composition depends partly on when Xenophon’s sons were born. Xenophon says that his sons hunted at the festival of Artemis; therefore they must have been in or past their mid to late teens when Xenophon wrote this passage. According to later sources (Plut. Ages. 20.2; Diocles ap. Diog. Laert. 2.54), they received their education at Sparta and thus it is generally assumed that they were born in the early 390s or earlier so that they could be young enough to go through the Spartan agoge yet old enough to participate in the annual hunt at Scillus repeatedly before Xenophon left in 371. H.Breitenbach, “Xenophon von Athen,” RE 9A(1967), 1569– 2052, at 1639–1644, discusses all evidence bearing on the date of composition and convincingly argues that Xenophon settled at Scillus in the early 380s (1575). Xen. Anab. 3.1.4–8. On the dates, see Breitenbach, 1574. Ibid., 5.3.4. Ibid., 7.8.24. Ibid., 3.1. Ibid., 7.8.24. Otto Lendle, Kommentar zu Xenophons Anabasis: Bücher 1–7 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1995), 313. For other similarities between the Anabasis and the Odyssey and Xenophon’s allusions to the epic, see Manfred Lossau, “Xenophons Odyssee,” Ant & Abend 36 (1990):47–52. Josef Morr (“Zum Sprachgebrauch Xenophons,” Wiener Studien 48 [1930]:11–24) suggests that the imperfect is characteristic of descriptions in memoirs (21) and that Xenophon uses the present tense for geographical descriptions of Ephesus ( ) and Scillus ( ) because these conditions will still obtain for his intended audience (23). The account of the river Selinous, however, uses the imperfect tense ( ), according to Morr, an indication of Xenophon’s experience in recognition of the coincidence of names which helped to determine the site of the shrine (22–23), perhaps more fully stated, “Xenophon bought land for the goddess where the god ordained [because it was noticed that] a river Selinous happened to flow through the land.” The Scillus passage, e.g., has been interpreted as a defense against suspicions that Xenophon used the tithe money to pay his own expenses: B.Zimmer mann, “Nachwort,” in W.Müri, ed., Xenophon, Anabasis (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1990), 488–502 at 494–95. Édouard Delebecque, Essai sur la vie de Xénophon (Paris: Libraire C.Klincksieck, 1957), 83, 199–206; 288–300, takes a similar view, and argues that the Scillus passage is also a transition between two parts of the Anab. revealing AntiSpartan and Pro-Spartan views respectively. G.B.Nussbaum, The Ten Thousand: A Study in Social Organization and Action in Xenophon’s “Anabasis” (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1967).

NOTES

149

23. W.E.Higgins, Xenophon the Athenian: The Problem of the Individual and the Society of the Polis (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1977). 24. Leonard Wencis, “Hypopsia and the Structure of Xenophon’s Anabasis,” CJ 73 (1977):44–49. 25. Steven W.Hirsch, The Friendship of the Barbarians: Xenophon and the Persian Empire (Hanover: University Press of New England, 1985), 18–38. 26. John Dillery, Xenophon and the History of His Times (London: Routledge, 1995), 59–98. 27. Dillery, 59–98. 28. Ibid., 65–68. 29. Xen. Anab. 5.6.15–16 (colony); Dillery, 90, on Scillus. 30. Dillery, 87. 31. Andrew Dalby, “Greeks Abroad: Social Organisation and Food Among the Ten Thousand,” JHS 112 (1992):16–30 at 23–24. 32. Xen. Anab. 6.3.24–4.3. 33. Dalby, 25–26. 34. Dalby, 26, n. 75. 35. Dalby, 24, n. 54. 36. Xen. Anab. 5.1.6 and 5.5.13–19 (the other is 3.2.21). 37. Ibid., 5.1.17–5.2.2. 38. Ibid., 5.4.34. 39. Ibid., 5.4.27–29. 40. Ibid., 4.8.20–21. 41. Ibid., 4.8.23–28. 42. Ibid., 3.2.9. 43. Dillery, 71–77, discusses the prominence of individual officers in the narrative of Books 3 and 4, while their subordinates fade into the background. Christopher J.Tuplin, “Xenophon,” OCD3, 1628–31 at 1629, notes that Xenophon’s interest in leadership appears in all his works. On Xenophon’s use of leadership as a theme in the Hellenica, see V.J.Gray, “Two different approaches to the battle of Sardis in 395 B.C,” CSCA 12 (1979):183–200, at 185. Xenophon’s concern for teaching arete can be viewed as a desire to train leaders as well as citizens in general; on the educational aspects of Xenophon’s works see Werner Jaeger, Paideia: the Ideals of Greek Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1944), 3:156–81. 44. Xen. Anab. 5.5.2–3. 45. Ibid., 3.1.12. 46. Ibid., 3.2.9. 47. Ibid., 4.8.25. 48. Ibid., 1.8.16. 49. Ibid., 3.1.12; 3.2.9; 6.1.22. 50. Ibid., 3.4.12. 51. Ibid., 3.2.4. 52. Ibid., 3.2.9; 4.8.25. 53. Ibid., 6.1.22; 7.6.44. 54. Ibid., 7.8.4. 55. Ibid., 4.8.25; 6.2.15. 56. Ibid., 6.5.25. 57. Ibid., 6.2.2.

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58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66.

67.

68.

69.

70. 71.

72. 73. 74.

75.

Ibid., 1.2.8. Ibid., 7.8.3. Ibid., 3.1.6. Ibid., 1.6.7. Ibid., 3.2.12. Xen. Hell. 4.2.20. Xen. Anab. 6.4.25. Ibid., 6.1.22. A.H.Jackson, “Hoplites and the Gods: The Dedication of Captured Arms and Armour,” in Victor Davis Hanson, ed., Hoplites: The Classical Greek Battle Experience (London: Routledge, 1991), 228–252, at 238. Xen. Anab. 3.1.4–10 (Proxenos’s invitation); 2.5.31–32 (Proxenos’s death). On fulfillment of a vow for a deceased friend see ML 18; Pritchett, Greek State at War 3, 238. Nilsson, GGR I3 481. I am taking it for granted that Artemis Ephesia was understood to be a persona of the Greek Artemis; my assumptions about the significance, or lack of significance, of epithets agree with those of C.SourvinouInwood, “Tragedy and Religion: Constructs and Readings,” in C.Pelling, ed., Greek Tragedy and the Historian (Oxford: Clarendon Press 1997), 161–186at 165–70. For a full list of Cyrus’s mercenaries and their nationalities see Roy, “Mercenaries,” 303–306. The Peloponnese sent the greatest number: over half of the mercenaries came from Arcadia and Achaea. The rest came from regions scattered throughout the mainland as well as the Aegean islands, Asia Minor, Thrace, and Syracuse. In addition to Xenophon, seven other Athenians are mentioned, who were officers under Proxenos’s and then Xenophon’s command. IG II2 1388.74; Pritchett, Greek State at War 3, 263. Xen. Hell. 4.2.20; Lac. 13.8; Plut. Lyc. 22.4 calls her Agrotera. No shrine, however, has been found dedicated to her in Laconia. See Eric Lucien Brulotte, “The Placement of Votive Offerings and Dedications in the Peloponnesian Sanctuaries of Artemis,” (PhD Diss., University of Minnesota, 1994), 184, no. 154. Ael. VH 2.25; Plut. De mal. Hdt. 26, 862a–c. Xen. Anab. 3.2.12. Plut. Them. 22.1–2; De mal. Hdt. 869 c–d; probably on the site of a small shrine discovered in Melite in 1964: J.Threpsiades and E.Vanderpool, “Themistokles’s Sanctuary of Artemis Aristoboule,” AD 19A (1964) 26–36; but see the objections of Pierre Amandry, “Thémistocle a Mélitè,” Charisterion eis Anastaion K.Orlandos 4 (Athens 1967) 265–79. For a full discussion of the cult, see Garland Introducing New Gods, 64–81. The reputation of Themistocles as cult founder and innovator is a topic worth exploring in itself, but with a view to the lateness of the sources and ambiguity of the evidence; see, e.g. Plut. Them. 1.4 and 30; Strabo 14.1.40, c647; Possis FGrH 480 F1=Athen. 12.533d–e; IG II2 1035.44–45, with Gerald R.Culley, “The Restoration of Sacred Monuments in Augustan Athens (IG 2/32 1035),” Ph.D.Diss., University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, 1973; Ammonius of Lamptrai FGrH 361 F5. Xen. Cyn. 1.18; 12.1–4; Pl. Laws 633b; 824a–b. See J.K.Anderson, Hunting in the Ancient World (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1975), 19–22 for a collection and discussion of Plato’s passages on hunting.

NOTES

151

76. Robin Lane Fox, “Ancient hunting: from Homer to Polybios,” in Graham Shipley and John Salmon, eds., Human Landscapes in Classical Antiquity: Environment and Culture (London: Routledge, 1996), 119–53, at 127. 77. Erika Simon, Die Götter der Griechen (Munich: Hirmer Verlag, 1969), 161. 78. Lewis Richard Farnell, The Cults of the Greek States 2 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1896), 470 (on Artemis’s function as a war goddess in general, 470–71, 585–87); Michael H.Jameson, “Sacrifice Before Battle,” in Hansen, Hoplites, 197–227 at 210. Callimachus humorously refers to Artemis’s associations with both war and hunting in AP 6.121, where a Cretan dedicates his bow to Artemis and tells the animals on Cynthus to take heart, since the goddess has called a truce ( ). 79. On this aspect of Artemis, see R.Lonis, Guerre et religion en Grèce à I’époque classique: Recherches sur les rites, les dieux, I’idéologie de la victoire (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1979), 209; Jean Pierre Vernant, “Artemis and Preliminary Sacrifice in Combat,” in id., Mortals and Immortals: Collected Essays, ed. Froma I.Zeitlin (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991), 244–60, at 245. 80. In his Hymn to Artemis, Callimachus says that Neleus chose Artemis as his leader when he left Athens (3.225–27) and that Agamemnon honored her for assisting in the voyage to Troy (3.228–32). In Sparta Artemis Hegemone shared a shrine with Apollo Carneus in the Roman period (Paus. 3.14.6). On Artemis as leader and protectress of children see T.H.Price, 141 (Leader of children at Sparta) and index s.v. “Artemis.” 81. See Nilsson, GGR I3, 433–37; A.C.Villing, “Aspects of Athena in the Greek Polis: Sparta and Corinth,” in Alan B.Lloyd, ed., What Is a God? Studies in the Nature of Greek Divinity (London: Duckworth, in assoc. with the Classical Press of Wales, 1997), 81–100. 82. See T.H.Price, index, s.v.Athena. 83. K.Wernike, “Artemis,” RE 2.1 (1896), 1336–1440 at 1361–62; W.Kendrick Pritchett, Greek Archives, Cults, and Topography. APXAIA E A 2 (Amsterdam: J.C.Gieben, 1996), 109–11; Kahil, “Artemis,” LIMC 2 (1984), 1:265– 68. 84. N.Fields, “Apollo: God of War, Protector of Mercenaries,” in Kenneth A.Sheedy, ed., Archaeology in the Peloponnese: New Excavations and Research. The Australian Archaeological Institute at Athens. Oxbow Monograph 48 (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 1994), 95–113, and on Apollo Epicurus, 107. In Homeric tradition, Hector vowed his armor to Apollo at Troy (Il. 7.81–3), and Dorians in the Peloponnese and their colonists celebrated Apollo Carneus with armed dances (Thuc. 5.54.2; Paus. 3.13.3–4; Callim. Hymn 4.85; Malkin, Myth, 143–63). 85. Malkin, Myth, 154–57. 86. Xen. Anab. 3.1.5–8; 6.1.23. 87. Creophylus, FGrH 417 F1=Athen. 8.361. 88. Rouse, 96; W.Kendrick Pritchett, The Greek State at War (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971), 95. 89. Hdt. 5.98; Thuc. 3.33; 4.50; Xen. Hell 1.5.1; 2.1.6; 3.2.9; 3.4.4–16; 5.1.6–7; Anab. 1.4.2; 6.1.23. Ca. 500, Heraclitus was stimulating intellectual activity at Ephesus, although Diogenes Laertius’s claim (9.1; 9.5) that he wrote a book and dedicated it in the temple of Artemis is dubious: G.S.Kirk, J.E.Raven, and M.Schofield, The

152 NOTES

90. 91. 92.

93.

94.

95.

96.

97.

98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106.

Presocratic Philosophers: A Critical History with a Selection of Texts 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 184. Xen. Anab. 6.1.23. Robert Fleischer, “Artemis Ephesia,” LIMC 2 (1984), 1:755–63 at 755. Anton Bammer, Das Heiligtum der Artemis von Ephesus (Graz, Austria: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, 1984), passim, 251, and 183, fig. 84, for chart showing dates of structures on the site. See also W.Alzinger, “Ephesos,” RE Suppl. 12 (1970), 1654–73. Hdt. 1.26; 92; Herodotus’s claim is confirmed by four inscriptions from the column bases, dated to ca. 550, which read, when restored, (IEph 5.1518). Hdt. 1.26. Cf. Polyaen. Stratag. 6.50; Denis van Berchem, “Trois cas d’asylie archaïque,” MusHelv 17 (1960):20–33, at 24–26. Van Berchem compare s a similar case at Naucratis and notes that economic concerns motivated the sovereign, who was also forced to consider religious and political factors together when the city linked itself to the cult. For a political interpretation, see Pericles Georges, Barbarian Asia and the Greek Experience from the Archaic Period to the Age of Xenophon (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994), 31–32. By the time of Tiberius, the Ephesians could cite several mythical precedents as well as historical confirmation by Persian, Macedonian, and Roman governors of the sanctuary’s right of asylum (Tac. Ann. 3.61). See Kent J.Rigsby, Asylia: Territorial Inviolability in the Hellenistic World (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996), 385–93. Dieter Knibbe, “Via Sacra Ephesiaca. New Aspects of the Cult of Artemis Ephesia,” in Helmut Koester, ed., Ephesus: Metropolis of Asia. Harvard Theological Studies 41 (Valley Forge, PA.: Trinity Press International, 1995), 141– 54 at 143; Bammer, Heiligtum, 75–76. IEph 1a.1. See Jeffrey, 339, 334, 414, no. 53 and pl. 66; Van Berchem, 25–26; George M.A.Hanfmann, From Croesus to Constantine: The Cities of Western Asia Minor and Their Arts in Greek and Roman Times (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1975), 5 and n. 10; Pierre Debord, Aspects sociaux et es de la vie religiense dans l’Anatolie gréco-romaine. EPRO 88 (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1982), 416, n. 212. Hdt. 2.148. Strabo 14.1.5, 634. Thuc. 8.109. Xen. Hell. 1.2.6. Thuc. 3.104. Plut. Lys. 3.3.4, Xen. Hell. 1.8.6; Diod. Sic. 13.70.4; political meetings: Diod. Sic. 13.70. Paus. 6.3.6. M.M.Austin, “Society and Economy,” in CAH 62 (1994), 527–64, at 536.

, Ar. Clouds, 598–600. 107. Pind. frag. 174 ap. Paus. 7.2.4; John Boardman, Athenian Black Figure Vases (London: Thames and Hudson, 1974), 231, figs. 126, 174, 200, 292; id., Athenian Red Figure Vases, 227; figs. 132, 222, 236. Callimachus (Hymn 3. 237–50)

NOTES

108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113.

114. 115. 116.

117.

118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123.

124. 125. 126.

153

describes how the Amazons set up a statue and danced around it, after which a temple was built around the statue. Pliny HN 34.53. See Dietrich Von Bothmer, Amazons in Greek Art (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1957), 217–23, nos. 35–80. T.H.Janssen, Timotheus Persae: A Commentary (Amsterdam: Adolf M.Hakkert, 1984), 21–22. Timoth. Persae, 132–137. Ibid., 173–174. Roy, “Mercenaries,” 318–21. The name was mistakenly interpreted as an official title in later antiquity (e.g., Strabo 14.1.23, 641), based partly on a misunderstanding of this passage: James O.Smith, “The High Priests of the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus,” in Lane, ed., Cybele, Attis, and Related Cults, 323–35. Diog. Laert. 2.51. Xen. Hell. 4.3.15, 21. Breitenbach, 1575; Lendle, 314. Delebecque, Essai sur la vie, 157–58: the version of Ages. 1. 34 and 2.16 (Agesilaus dedicated over 100 talents over the course of two years, and returned home after the battle of Coronea) is to be preferred over Hell. 4.3.21 and Plut Ages. 19.3, which shows Agesilaus dedicating a lump sum after the battle of Coronea. Delebecque, Essai sur la vie, 5, 148–50. Xenophon’s residence in the Troad is inferred from Hell. 4.8.37, which shows that Xenophon often passed through the Dardanelles and knew of gold mines in the region. Delebecque believes that Xenophon was especially upset about leaving Asia because it hindered him from colonizing Asia as well as acquiring gold (154–55). Delebecque regards Xenophon’s delay in consecrating the tithe as grounds for suspecting selfish motives, in keeping with his view of Xenophon’s concern for expediency above all else (148–49). Xen. Hell. 4.2.2–4.2.8; Delebecque, Essai sur la vie, 149. Delebecque, Essai sur la vie, 149. Xen. Anab. 5.3.6. Delebecque, Essai sur la vie, 149. Xen. Hell. 3.4.16–17. Xenophon’s failure to explain this detour is intentional; the Hellenica presents a modified version of the account in the Agesilaus which displays the king’s selfless and disciplined devotion to his country. Omission of time and place of preparation creates the illusion of movement from Astyra directly toward Greece and thus emphasizes Agesilaus’s immediate response and unswerving obedience to Sparta at the cost of his own glory in his planned campaign in Asia. In the Agesilaus we hear that Agesilaus did leave immediately, with no mention of the contest, but rather, “he obeyed his city no differently than if he happened to be standing alone among the Five in the Ephor’s place” (Ages. 1.36; similarly, Plut. Ages. 15.5). Xen. Hell. 3.4.20; Diog. Laert. 2.51. Charles D.Hamilton, Agesilaus and the Failure of Spartan Hegemony (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1991), 98. Paul Cartledge, Agesilaos and the Crisis of Sparta (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987), 59; Peter Krentz, Xenophon, Hellenika II.3.11–IV.2.8 (Warminster: Aris and Phillips, 1995), 190. Since Xenophon fails to mention an important victory of Agesilaus noted in Diodorus (14.80), we must assume either

154 NOTES

lapse of memory or ignorance on Xenophon’s part: G.Cawkwell, Xenophon, A History of My Times (New York: Penguin Books, 1979), 170–71 n. 127. In addition to giving numerous concrete details, Xenophon expresses the account in visual terms as though he had seen the events: (Hell. 3.4. 16–17; Ages. 1.26); (Hell. 3.4.16); (Hell. 3.4.17); (Hell. 3.4.18). 128. Syll3 1122 (ML 38.7). Cf. Pritchett, Greek State at War 3, 236–37, for unfulfilled vows by states for which substitutes of what was vowed are offered. 129. Lendle, 315. 130. Diog. Laert. 2.51–52: Xenophon gave over Cyrus’s mercenaries to Agesilaus in Asia, “at which time he was condemned by the Athenians to exile for laconism.” Diogenes, however, omits events between 399 and 395. Agreeing with this date are Lendle, 315; Cartledge, Agesilaos, 60; Jan P.Stronk, The Ten Thousand in Thrace: An Archaeological and Historical Commentary on Xenophon’s Anabasis, Books Vl.iii-vi—VII (Amsterdam: J.C.Gieben, 1995), 6; Peter J.Rahn, “The Date of Xenophon’s Exile,” in Gordon Spencer Shrimpton and David Joseph McCargar, eds., Classical Contributions: Studies in Honour of Malcom Francis McGregor (Locust Valley NY: J.J.Augustin, 1981), 103–120, esp. 117; Hirsch, 153; Breitenbach, 1575. 131. Early exile date on charge of medism: Paus. 5.6.5, Dio Chrys. 8.1; AP 7.9.8=Diog. Laert. 2.58; Delebecque, Essai sur la vie, 117–23; Anderson, Xenophon, 149; P.M. Green, “Text and Context in the Matter of Xenophon’s Exile,” in lan Worthington, ed., Ventures into Greek History (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 215–27. Green points out that neither charge could have a logical and legal basis after the Peloponnesian War and while Athens was allegedly Sparta’s ally. According to Green, the accusation was association with Cyrus (just as Xenophon portrays Socrates predicting at Anab. 3.1.5), but the real reason behind Xenophon’s exile was Athenian fear of an oligarchic revolution in 399, which could be prevented by outlawing possible culprits in advance. Higgins, 83, also believes service to Cyrus was the pretext for exile in 399, and association with both the oligarchs and Socrates, the real cause. 132. Breitenbach, 1575. 133. Paus. 5.6.4. 134. Petros G.Themelis, “ ,” AD 23 (1968): 284–92; E.Delebecque, “Un point de géographie xénophontique. Le site de Scillonte,” Annal. Fac. Lettres Aix 29 (1955):5–17; W.Kendrick Pritchett, Studies in Ancient Greek Topography 6. University of California Publications: Classical Studies 33 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989), 67, n.151; Lendle, 316–318 and fig. 56 (map); Robin Osborne, Classical Landscape with Figures (London: George Philip, 1987), 126; N.D.Papachatzes, 4, 5, 6, (Athens: EK OTIKH A HN N, A.E.AQHNA, 1994), 218–22 and figs. 189 (map), 190, 191; E.Meyer, “Skillous,” Kl. Pauly 5 (1975), 229. 135. N.Ph. Yialoures, “ ,” Prakt (1954 [publ. 1957]):290–98 at 292–94, with figs. 4 (Elean vases), 5–6 (protomes), 7 (relief). See

NOTES

136. 137. 138.

139. 140. 141.

142. 143. 144. 145.

146. 147. 148. 149. 150.

155

also P.Courbin, “Chronique des Fouilles en 1953,” BCH 78 (1954):128–31 with figs. 32 (vases) and 33 (protome); J.M.Cook and John Boardman, “Archaeology in Greece. 1953,” JHS 74–75 (1954–55):142–69 at 156–57. Themelis, “ ,” 284–92. See Bammer, Heiligtum, 32–33. See U.Sinn, “Der sog. Tempel D im Heraion von Samos II. Ein archäologis-cher Befund aus der nachpolykratischen Zeit, mit einem Exkurs zum griechischen Bauopfer,” AM 100 (1985):129–58. These deposits may have served a dual function of securing divine protection through dedication of precious objects and protection against moisture by means of a mixture of ash, sacrificial remains, and other material with votives, including broken pottery (134). Some of the vessels and figurines at Kampoule were found broken, but were not necessarily deliberately buried this way. See also M. Donderer, “Münzen als Bauopfer in römischen Privathäusern,” BJ 184 (1984):177–87; Berit Wells, “Early Greek Building Sacrifices,” in R.Hägg, N.Marinatos, and G.Nordquist, eds., Early Greek Cult Practice. Proceedings of the fifth international symposium at the Swedish Institute at Athens, 26–29 June, 1986 (Srockholm: Paul Åström, 1988), 259–66; Walter Burkert, The Orientalizing Revolution: Near Eastern Influence on Greek Culture in the Early Archaic Age (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992), 53–55. Yialoures, 294. Pritchett, Topography, 67, n. 151. Yialoures, 294. Scillus to my knowledge has yielded no other signs of cult. P.Siewert, “Die Inschriften der Landschaft Eleia ohne Olympia,” in A.D.Rizakes, ed., Achaia und Elis in der Antike. Akten des 1. Internationalen Symposiums Athen: 19.–21. Mai 1989 (Athens, 1991), 105–106 at 106, notes that there exist about fifty inscriptions of this region that have not been published. See Brulotte, 147–63; Farnell, Cults 2, 605, Geographical Register s.v.Elis; U.Sinn, “Das Heiligtum der Artemis bei Kombothekra,” AM 96 (1981):25–71. E.g., Ar. Av. 172; Thuc. 6.4. E.g., Pind. Isth. 8.22. Dinarchus (F 77 Conomis) ap. Diog. Laert. 2.52. Diogenes says that he has derived some of his information (about Xenophon’s sons) from a speech that Dinarchus wrote for a freedman of Xenophon, whom Xenophon prosecuted for abandonment of his responsibilities. Dinarchus the famous orator would have been too young to write this speech, since he was born in 361 and active from about 336 (J.Kaerst, “Deinarchos,” RE 4.2 [1901], 2386–88 at 2386), twenty years after Xenophon’s death. Diogenes has perhaps used the works of an otherwise unknown Dinarchus, or, as Gerhardus Marenghi, Dionisio di Alicarnasso: Dinarco (Milan: Istituto Editoriale Italiano, n.d.), 150, suggests, the speech concerned the slave of a different Xenophon (perhaps Xenophon’s grandson?). Diog. Laert. 2.51. Xen. Hell. 3.2.21–31. Diod. Sic. 14.17.4–12; 14.34.1–2. Paus. 3.8.3–5. On the date and details of the war, see Hans-Joachim Gehrke, Stasis: Untersuchungen zu inneren Kriegen in den griechischen Staaten des 5. und 4. Jahrhunderts v. Chr. Vestigia 35 (Munich: C.H.Beck, 1985), 53–54; E.McQueen

156 NOTES

151. 152.

153.

154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162.

163.

164.

and C.J.Rowe, “Phaedo, Socrates, and the Chronology of the Spartan War with Elis,” Méthexis 2 (1989): 1–18 at 4–13; Cartledge, Agesilaos, 248–53, 353; R.K.Unz, “The Chronology of the Elean War,” GRBS 27 (1986): 29–42. The Spartans’ demand that the Eleans “let their perioikoi go autonomous” (Xen. Hell. 3. 2.23) does not necessarily imply freedom of obligations to Sparta. “Autonomous” was used ambiguously and could even entail the payment of tribute: M.Ostwald, Autonomia, Its Genesis and Early History. American Classical Studies 11 (Chico, California: Scholars Press, 1982), 7. Xen. Hell. 4.2.16. Paus. 5.6.4, 6.22.4. See C.Tuplin, The Failings of Empire: A Reading of Xenophon Hellenica 2.3.11–7.5.27. Historia Einzelschriften 76 (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 1993), 183–85: Xenophon distinguishes between the two when he has the Eleans claim as their own Scillus and Triphylia in 371/0 (Hell. 6.5.2), probably a result of hindsight in view of the Eleans’ eventual recovery of Scillus, but not the rest of Triphylia. See Fritz Gschnitzer, Abhängige Orte im griechischen Altertum (Munich: C.H.Beck, 1958), 7–17; James Roy, “The Perioikoi of Elis,” in Mogens Herman Hansen, ed., The Polis as an Urban Center and as a Political Community. Symposium August 29–31, 1996. Acts of the Copenhagen Polis Centre 4. Historiskfilosofiske Meddelelser 75 (Copenhagen: Royal Danish Academy of Sciences and Letters, 1997), 282–320. A military alliance had existed by the sixth century, but the details of how it worked are unknown (292–94). The degree to which Elis had imposed financial constraints is uncertain. Strabo 8.3.30, 355 is sometimes read as evidence for tribute payments to Elis, but the syntax is disputed and may refer rather to a Spartan requirement of tribute from perioikoi (317 n. 73). Polyb. 4.74. J.A.O.Larsen, “ ,” RE 19 (1937), 816–33, at 828: Elis’s perioikoi possessed local autonomy, but took no part in the central government of Elis. Xen. Hell. 3.2.24. Ibid., 3.2.25. Ibid. 3.2.30. Xen. Ages. 4.5–6. Xen. Hell. 6.5.2. Cartledge, Agesilaos, 252, attributes Xenophon’s selective mention of Scillus to mutual animosity between himself and Elis. Thuc. 3.68. Most scholars, including Nilsson, GGR I3, 828–29, and Matthew Dillon, Pilgrims and Pilgrimage in Ancient Greece (London: Routledge, 1997), 84–85, read the Spartans as the subject of the whole passage. But the text is uncertain and Thuc. may have written “the Thebans” as the subject; in any case, Thuc. (3.68.4) states that the Spartans acted in order to please the Thebans. On the textual difficulty see M.Amit, Great and Small Poleis. Collection Latomus 134 (Brussels: Latomus, 1973), 102 n. 137. Thuc. 5.32.1. The Athenians usually sent their own citizens to inhabit or control allied territory, sometimes decreasing tribute payments in return and only rarely confiscating land: P.A.Brunt, “Athenian Settlements Abroad in the 5th Century B.C.,” in id., Studies in Greek History and Thought (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), 112–34 at 129. Malkin, Myth, 67–113.

NOTES

157

165. Hdt. 4.145–48. 166. Thuc. 5.34.1; Malkin, Myth, 84–89. 167. Higgins, 76; G.L.Cawkwell, “Agesilaus and Sparta,” CQ 26 (1976):62–84 at 65; Erwin Scharr, Xenophons Staats- und Gesellschaftsideal und seine Zeit (Halle: Max Niemeyer, 1919), 96 n. 244, reads Xenophon’s Lac. as a mark of Xenophon’s gratitude for his Scillus estate; Georges, 207, calls Xenophon “the satrap of Scillus,” and at 207, a “magnate” who enjoyed his position due to Spartan generosity. 168. Delebecque, Essai sur la vie, 170. 169. The most extensive recent study is Christian Marek, Die Proxenie. Europäis-che Hochschuschriften 3. Geschichte und ihre Hilfswissenschaften 213 (Bern: Peter Lang, 1984). 170. Thuc. 5.43.2; 6.89.2–3; E.Balogh, Political Refugees in Ancient Greece (Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press, 1943), passim, esp. 45, 47. On other Athenians who served as proxenoi of Sparta see too Paul Monceaux, Les proxénies greques (Paris: Ernest Thorin, 1886), 132–38. 171. Contra André Gerolymatos, Espionage and Treason: A Study ofthe Proxenia in Political and Military Intelligence Gathering in Classical Greece (Amsterdam: J.C.Gieben, 1986), 96, who views the title as a sinecure, similar to its empty but prestigious connotations in the Hellenistic period. 172. Sian Lewis, News and Society in the Greek Polis (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1996), 141: treaties posted at Panhellenic shrines allowed visitors “to learn the details of a peace or alliance, and to find out about events in more depth” than official messengers offered. 173. Cf.Cartledge, Agesilaos, 252: Xenophon’s proxeny may have entailed “private, informal, secret diplomacy between Agesilaos and his Peloponnesian protégés” due to his proximity to Olympia. On the proxenos’s duty of communication see also D.J.Mosley, Envoys and Diplomacy in Ancient Greece (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1973), 5. The importance of intelligence communication in Spartan proxeny is suggested by Xenophon himself, when he portrays a Pharsalian calling himself proxenos and euergetes of the Lacedaemonians, with the duty to report to them any difficulty in Thessaly related to them (Hell. 6.1.4). 174. Monceaux, 135–36. 175. For the problems of defining Olympia’s political role in Elean politics, see Catherine Morgan and James J.Coulton, “The Polis as a Physical Entity,” in Hansen, Polis as an Urban Center, 87–144 at 112–114. Roy, “Perioikoi of Elis,” 288, mentions that new epigraphical evidence shows that sixth-century Elis administered at least some of its institutions in the polis, and not all of them at Olympia, as was previously supposed; at 296 he rejects the possibility of an Olympic amphictyony; at 298 he concludes that “Elean domination of the sanctuary at Olympia may have been used to some extent as an instrument of Elean influence.” Perhaps, however, a more precise distinction should be made between payments of fines to Olympian Zeus (often interpreted as payments to Elis [e.g., Roy, “Perioikoi of Elis,” 296]) and control by Elis. 176. Robert A.Bauslaugh, The Concept of Neutrality in Classical Greece (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), 42–43; Rigsby, Asylia, 41–43 for testimonia. 177. IvO 9, ca. 500; Roy, “Perioikoi of Elis,” 293–94, with discussion of the identity of the community (Erwaoioi).

158 NOTES

178. IvO 16, with oath at line 12. It has sometimes been read as proof of Scillus’s special status under Elis (e.g., Osborne, Classical Landscape, 126), but without good grounds, since the document is both fragmentary and vague in its extant parts: Roy, “Perioikoi of Elis,” 296 and 319, n. 92. The most intriguing part of the inscription is the reference to the Mantinaeans ( : 17), which the editors interpreted as a reference to the Mantinaeans’ mediation in Elis’s resubjugation of Scillus: IvO, pp. 44–45. 179. Thuc. 5.31.2. 180. … , Xen. Hell. 3.2.31. 181. Ibid., 7.4.28. 182. As Athenian cleruchies could be viewed as a service in their protection of the native inhabitants (Isoc. 4.107), although obviously self-serving in many cases (Brunt, “Athenian Settlements,” 123), so too Xenophon’s presence may have been met initially with relief, ambivalence, or resentment. 183. See Mosley, 6. 184. Rigsby, Asylia, 6–9; Ulrich Sinn, “Greek Sanctuaries as Places of Refuge,” in Nanno Marinatos and Robin Hägg, eds., Greek Sanctuaries: New Approaches (London: Routledge, 1993), 88–109. Panhellenic sanctuaries proclaimed sacred truces before their festivals in order to protect pilgrims from violence, but these too were sometimes violated; see Dillon, Pilgrims, 27–59. 185. Cf. Xen. Hell. 4.5.5: The sanctuary of Hera at Piraeum (Perachora) gave refuge to local residents and their cattle until they voluntarily emerged and surrendered to Agesilaus. 186. IG IX. 1. 2.583; Tullia Linders, “Sacred Finances: Some Observations,” in ead. and Brita Alroth, eds., Economics of Cult in the Ancient Greek World. Proceedings of the Uppsala Symposium 1990. Boreas 21 (Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, 1992), 9–13 at 9. 187. Public sanctuaries were often not so generous. At some shrines, visitors stayed over night and apparently did some damage, leading to prohibition of access at night or without supervision, e.g., LSAM 55, ca. 350 B.C., the Cnidians ban sleeping in the temple of Dionysus after some Bacchoi slept there. See Dillon, Pilgnras, 150–51 for this and similar regulations. Grazing rights are often restricted in public sanctuaries, e.g., IG XII 5.2 (LSCG 105), IG V 2.3 (LSCG 67). 188. F.T.Van Straten, Hiera Kala: Images of Animal Sacrifice in Archaic and Classical Greece. Religions in the Graeco-Roman World 127 (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1995), 189 and n. 2. 189. See Linders, “Sacred Finances,” 10–11 on the economic benefits of cults to communities. 190. Thuc. 3.68.3. 191. . Oenomaus ap Eus. PE 5.32, Jürgen Hammerstaedt, Die Orakelkritik des Kynikers Oenomaos. Beiträge zur klassischen Philologie 188 (Frankfurt am Main: Athenäum, 1988) 95, fr. 11 (Parke and Wormell, no. 539; J.Fontenrose, The Delphic Oracle: Its Responses and Operations [Berkeley:University of California Press, 1978], Q12). 192. Fontenrose, 192 and n. 24. 193. Pecírka, 7–8.

NOTES

159

194. D.Whitehead, “Immigrant Communities in the Classical Polis: Some Principles for a Synoptic Treatment,” AntCl 53 (1984):47–59 at 51. 195. Xen. Hell. 5.2.12, 19. 196. Dieter Hennig, “Immobilienwerb durch Nichtbürger in der klassischen und hellenistischen Polis,” Chiron 24 (1994):305–44 at 324–39. The only known enktesis grant by Sparta occurs ca. 200 B.C. in a proxeny decree for Damion of Ambracia: IG V 14.11–13 (310, n. 16). 197. IC IV 64. 198. IG II2 1283; Pecírka, 124–25; Rhonda R.Simms, “The Cult of the Thracian Goddess Bendis in Athens and Attica,” AncW 18 (1988):59–76. 199. IvO 11; Roy, “Perioikoi of Elis,” 313 n. 31, with a comparison of Schol. on Pind. Ol. 10.55, which states that Pisatis was occupied by visitors during the games. 200. Cf.Matthew Dillon, “The House of the Thebans’ (FD iii. 1.357–358) and Accommodation for Greek Pilgrims,” ZPE 83 (1990):64–88 on types of lodging available at sanctuaries, often quite limited. 201. Eur. Ion 551, 1039; Androm. 1103 show the service (but not the term, which occurs only epigraphically) performed at Delphi. See on the religious functions of proxeny Monceaux, 259–97 and Marek, 380 and 127, where it is stressed that political functions developed first. The terms theoroi and theorodochoi are sometimes omitted or replaced by more general terms in inscriptions: Dillon, “House of the Thebans,” 72–73; Paula Perlman, “ . Panhellenic Epangelia and Political Status,” in Hansen, Polis as an Urban Center, 113–63, discusses mainly the other duty of the theorodochos, the housing of theoroi in his (or her) native polis, but does provide an overview of the use of the term and a collection of evidence. 202. Dillon, “House of the Thebans,” 75, cites as examples of the Hellenistic period IG IV.12 49, 50, 53, 60. 203. E.g., Xen. Hell. 5.1.33; 5.2.7. 204. Arist. Pol. 1322b 20–24. 205. On these duties, see R.S.J.Garland, “Religious Authority in Archaic and Classical Athens,” BSA 79 (1984):75–123 at 76; Parker, Miasma, 30, 33, 162. 206. As Balogh, 52, points out, citing as an example the Athenians’ settlement of the Plataeans (to whom they had no intention of giving full and permanent citizenship) at Scione ca. 421. Colonization was thus often a welcome solution to both parties. 207. Xen. Hell. 3.4.3, 5.5; 7.1.34; Plut. Ages. 6.6–11. 208. Plut. Pelop. 21.1–5. 209. Xen. Hell. 3.4.18. 210. Ibid., 4.1.41. 211. Nilsson, GGR I3, 630; Malkin, Religion and Colonization, 146; Isager and Skydsgaard, 185. 212. Plut. Mor. 292e–f, 398a; See Dillon, Pilgrims, 154, and on proxeny at Delphi, 154– 55. 213. H.W.Parke, The Oracles of Zeus. Dodona, Olympia, Ammon (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1967), 175. 214. Strabo 8.3.30. 215. Pind. Ol. 6; Ol. 8. 216. For a discussion of these passages, see Parke, Oracles of Zeus, 175–76; 183–84. 217. Hdt. 1.59.1.

160 NOTES

218. Parke, Oracles of Zeus, 185. 219. Soph. 898: Delphi, Olympia, and Abae will no longer be frequented if the truth of oracles is refuted. 220. Krentz, 172; Parke, Oracles of Zeus, 186–87. 221. Xen. Hell. 3.2.22. 222. Parke, Oracles of Zeus, 186–87. 223. Xen. Hell. 4.7.2. 224. Parke, Oracles of Zeus, 188. 225. Arist. Rhet. 1398b 30. 226. Xen. Vect. 6.2–3. On the date, see Breitenbach, 1573; 1754. 227. Parke, Oracles of Zeus, 139. 228. Dem. 21.51; IG II2 1283.4–7; Parke, Oracles of Zeus, 149. 229. E.g., Pind. Ol. 8.41; see Parke and Wormell, 1:329, n. 2 for other examples. 230. E.g., Hdt. 6.57; Thuc. 5.16. 231. IG II24969 (Syll3 1005; Parke and Wormell, no. 278, Fontenrose, H24). Schlaifer, 39–43, with parallels for this type of gift at 41–42; Aleshire, Athenian Asklepieion, 163–64, on date: 350–33. 232. Schlaifer, 42; Aleshire, Athenian Asklepieion, 164. 233. Schlaifer, 42. 234. E.g., Hdt. 1.13.2–3; Xen. Anab. 3.1.6 and 8; L.Robert, Études épigraphiques et philologiques (Paris: Champion, 1938), 294, lines 5–10 (Parke and Wormell, no. 281; Fontenrose, H 27). 235. Xen. Anab. 3.1.5. 236. Parke and Wormell, 1:404; Dillon, Pilgrims, 89. 237. IG XII.3 248 (Syll3 977.29–32; LSCG 129; Parke and Wormell, no. 427; Fontenrose, H54). 238. Xen. Anab. 5.3.8. Rivers are often specified in colonization oracles, but most of these oracles are probably mythical, e.g., Pausanias (5.7.3) quotes an oracle claiming that the Peloponnesian River Alpheus appears in Ortygia on Sicily and mingles with the local spring, Arethusa. As often, the foreign land is represented by a female who joins with a male from Greece. See on this and others of this pattern Carol Dougherty, The Poetics of Colonization: From City to Text in Ancient Greece (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), 70–74. 239. Fontenrose, 248, H12; Parke and Wormell, no. 174. 240. Plin. HN 5.115; for maps, see O. Benndorf, Forschungen in Ephesos 1 (Vienna: Alfred Hölder, 1906), 38, fig. 9; 47, fig. 12. 241. Strabo mentions the river Selinous that flows in through Aegium in Achaea and compares those at Ephesus and Scillus:

(8.7.5, 387). Strabo adds that another river of the same name exists in Megara Hyblaea in Sicily. There was also a lake at Ephesus called Selinousia (Strabo 14.1.26, 642). 242. Burkert, “Greek Temple-builders,” 26. 243. Malkin, Religion and Colonization, 143, 147. 244. Malkin, Religion and Colonization: the function of the shrine, its relation to the other institutions housed within the city, centrality, and a source of water for purification are common factors determining the sites of shines (144). The only colonial

NOTES

245.

246.

247. 248.

249. 250.

251. 252. 253. 254. 255. 256.

161

sanctuaries that were not situated as they were because of the founder’s rational purpose were the indigenous sanctuaries already in place, as Plato (Laws 848d) advises (154–55). Malkin, Religion and Colonization, 23, 25; Fontenrose notes that a pattern especially common in colonization oracles is a unique or incredible event predicted as the site of the settlement (15–16). See Dougherty (56 and in general 45–60) on oracular riddles that refer to places; the oracle is said to give a vague or impossible description of a place or event that will signal that this correct place is at hand. The recipient must solve the riddle and realize that his experience or the event is that which the Pythia described in metaphorical terms. This type of legend justifies Greek conquest, imposes a familiar order and “Greek intelligence” on foreign territory. Xen. Mem. 3.8.10. Malkin, Religion and Colonization, 146, dismisses this statement: it “cannot be used for much more than an illustration of atmosphere and sentiment.” Malkin’s emphasis on rational selection of sites, while surely correct in the case of some public cults, does not account for non-colonial foundations which are motivated by some manifestation of a divinity’s presence or power. Xen. Anab. 5.3.7, 9. On branches of the Ephesian Artemis, including later ones that will not be discussed here, see Ch.Picard, Éphése et Claros: Recherches sur les sanctuaires et les cultes de l’Ionie du nord (Paris: E.de Boccard, 1922), xvi–xxii; R. Oster,” “Holy days in honour of Artemis,” New Documents (1979):74–82 at 79–80. Robert Fleischer, Artemis von Ephesos und venvandte Kultstatuen aus Anatolien und Syrien. EPRO 35 (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1973), shows on Map 2 sixty cities in Anatolia that have images of Artemis Ephesia on their coins, which do not, however, indicate local cults, but rather local goddesses who have adopted her appearance (135–36). Malkin, “Aphidruma,” 77–96. Strabo 4.1.4, 179. After the Persian invasion of 540, a second group of colonists went to Massalia, and are perhaps more likely to have transplanted the Ephesian cult: Lynn R.LiDonnici, “The Images of Artemis Ephesia and Greco-Roman Worship: A Reconsideration,” HThR 85 (1992):389–415, at 399–400; Irad Malkin, “Missionaires paiens dans la Gaule grecque,” in id., La France et la Méditerranée (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1990), 42–52; id., Religion and Colonization, 69–72; Picard, xvi– xvii. Thucydides (1.13) mentions the Phocaeans’ foundation of the colony in Massalia, but not the cult of Artemis. Strabo 3.4.6 (Hemeroscopium); 3.4.8 (Emporium); 3.4.8 (Rhode); 4.1.5 (rites). Malkin, Religion and Colonization, 83. Ibid., 84–85. Irene Bald Romano, “Early Greek Cult Images and Cult Practices,” in Hägg, Early Greek Cult Practice, 127–34, at 129–31. CEG 2.888.iii; Trevor Bryce, “The Gods and Oracles of Ancient Lycia,” in Dillon, ed., Religion in the Ancient World, 41–49 at 46. IMagn 215 (Parke and Wormell, no. 338),

162 NOTES

257. 258. 259.

260.

261.

262. 263. 264. 265. 266. 267.

268. 269. 270. 271. 272. 273. 274. 275. 276.

. Albert Henrichs, “Greek Maenadism from Olympias to Messalina,” HSCP 82 (1978):121–60, discusses the inscription at 123–37 and argues for the story’s authenticity. On the date, see Henrichs, 127, 130; Rigsby, Asylia, 187, n. 31. Parke and Wormell, 1:335. See Olivier Masson, “L’lnscription d’Éphèse relative aux condamnés à mort de Sardes (I.Ephesos 2),” REG 100 (1987):225–39. G.M.A.Hanfmann and N.Ramage, Sculpture from Sardis: The Finds through 1975. Arch. Exploration of Sardis Report 2 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1978), 55–56, no. 17, figs. 70–71; G.M.A.Hanfmann, ed. Sardis from Prehistoric to Roman Times (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1983), 91, fig. 93. G.M.A.Hanfmann and J.C.Waldbaum, “Kybebe and Artemis. Two Anatolian goddesses at Sardis,” Archaeology 22 (1969):264–69; Hanfmann and Ramage, 58– 60 no. 20, figs. 78–83. D.Knibbe, “Ein religioser Frevel und scine Sühne. Ein Todesurteil hellenistischer Zeit aus Ephesos,” ÖJh 46 (1961–63):175–82; Hanfmann and Waldbaum, 265; Fleischer, Artemis, 201. IG II2 1283 with Pecírka, 124–5; Simms, “Cult of the Thracian Goddess Bendis,” 60–61. Xen. Anab. 6.1.23. Ibid., 1.6.7. Madeline Jost, Sanctuaires et Cultes d’Arcadie (Paris: Librairie philosophique J.Vrin, 1985), 107–108. …Paus. 8.23.1. BMC Pelop. 177, no. 1, pl. xxxiii.3; Kahil, “Artemis,” LIMC 2, no. 818; Jost, Sanctnaires, pl. 26.4; F.W.Imhoof-Blumer and Percy Gardner, Ancient Coins Illustrating Lost Masterpieces of Greek Art.A Numismatic Commentary on Pausanias. (London: Clay, 1887), 99. Jost, Sanctuaires, 107–108. Brulotte, 35–36, no. 14. in one of the stoa’s rooms: Paus. 8.30.6. … Paus. 2.2.6. Imhoof-Blumer and Gardner, 19. Diod. Sic. 9.32; Picard, xix–xx. Nilsson, GGR I3, 492, 496. IEph 1b.24. c. 9–14, Syll3 867.

NOTES

163

(Acts 19.27). 277. Paus. 4.31.8. 278. Pind. frag. 174 ap. Paus. 7.2.4. 279. Robin Osborne, Demos: The Discovery of Classical Attika (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 176–78. 280. Strabo, 4.1.5; Malkin, “Aphidruma,” 83. 281. Callim. Hymn 3.237–50. 282. Malkin, “Aphidruma,” 85–86. 283. Ibid., 95. 284. Malkin, Religion and Colonization, 114–34. 285. Pliny HN 16.79, 213–16; Fleischer, Artemis, 57; 126–27; id., “Artemis Ephesia,” LIMC 2.1:755–63; 2.2, figs. 1, 2, 4; LiDonnici, 397–400, and passim on the image in view of political and social trends at Ephesus. 286. Fleischer, Artemis, 1–116, 393–95. 287. Plin. HN 16.79, 213; Vitr. De Arch. 2.9.13. 288. W.R.Lethaby, “The Earlier Temple of Artemis at Ephesus,” JHS 37 (1917):1–16, at 8; Romano, 130, n. 30. 289. Bammer, Heiligtum, 208–10, fig. 60, 86. 290. Lendle, 320. 291. Picard, 331, n. 2, 378. 292. Stefan Karweise, “Ephesos,” RE Suppl. 12 (1970), 297–364 at 303–14, 322, 353– 54; Fleischer, Artemis, 113, and “Artemis Ephesia,” 763. 293. Karweise, 316, 318; C.Kraay, Archaic and Classical Greek Coins (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979), 256, no. 903 (ca. 390 B.C.); no. 904 (ca. 340 B.C.); Barclay V.Head, BMC, Greek Coins of lonia (London: British Museum, 1892), 51, nos. 26–29, pl. ix. 7, ca. 394–387. 294. Fleischer, Artemis, 114. 295. Anton Bammer, director of the most recent excavations, modifies some earlier assumptions about the sanctuary and its buildings (Heiligtum, passim). Pliny (HN 36.94) emphasizes the difficulty of building the temple on marshy ground, solved only by layering charcoal and sheepskins below the foundations, and of constructing a building so large: the temple measured 425 by 225 (Attic) feet, with 127 sculpted columns, each 60 feet high. See Bammer, Heiligtum, 212–15, on Pliny’s testimony, apparently referring to the last temple, but probably similar to the archaic temple. On evidence from coins, see Bluma L.Trell, The Temple of Artemis at Ephesos (New York: American Numismatic Society, 1945), 7–32. 296. Lethaby, 12–13. 297. Bammer, Heiligtum, 213, 224–25. 298. Ibid., 219, fig. 111. 299. Ibid., 222. 300. Ibid., 222–23; questioned by R.A.Tomlinson, Greek Sanctuaries (New York: St.Martin’s Press, 1976), 131. 301. Bammer, Heiligtum, 212; figs. 114, 140. 302. Acts 19. 24–27. Thomas G.Schattner, Griechische Hausmodelle. Untersuchungen zur frühgriechischen Architekur. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archaologischen Instituts Athenische Abteilung 15 (Berlin: Gebr. Mann, 1990), 195–97. Archaic models have been found at Sparta and Scillus: Schattner, passim; O.Benndorf,

164 NOTES

303. 304.

305. 306. 307. 308. 309. 310. 311. 312. 313.

314.

315. 316. 317. 318.

319.

320. 321. 322.

“Antike Baumodelle,” ÖJh 5 (1902):175–95; A.M.Woodward, “Inscriptions,” in R.M.Dawkins, ed., The Sanctuary of Artemis Orthia at Sparta. JHS Suppl. Papers 5 (London: MacMillan and Co., 1929), 285–377 at 296, fig. 131; 297, fig. 132. Cf.Malkin, “Aphidruma,” 88, n. 45: “We cannot even be sure whether these were used for dedications or as souvenirs, like little golden Eifel towers.” J.A.Bundgaard, Mnesicles: A Greek Architect at Work (Copenhagen: Scandinavian University, 1957), 113, 116. Text and translation of a mid-fourthcentury contract for building at Eleusis: 100–110; paradeigmata were replicas of architectural elements, often full size, that had to be repeated identically on the building, although in some cases the word referred to specifications found in contracts (Hdt. 5.62.2): J.J.Coulton, Ancient Greek Architects at Work: Problems of Structure and Design (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1977), 54–55, 57. Coulton, 17,58. Coulton, 24–25; Plin. NH 36.21, 56, 95–97, 149. Xen. Mem. 4.2.8–10. Tomlinson, 129. Lendle, 320, assumes that Xenophon relied on memory alone to communicate his plan for the temple to builders. Xen. Mem. 3.1.7; Paus. 5.5.6. Osborne, Classical Landscape, 84, fig. 27; 89, fig. 31. Picard, 60 and n. 2; 378 and n. 10. According to Burford, 23, local stone was probably free. Extraction of stone and its transport had to be paid for, but the most difficult part of building was the acquisition of skilled laborers. Lethaby, 15; Picard, 62–63; Motte, 30–31; Darice Birge, “Sacred Groves in the Ancient Greek World,” (PhD Diss., University of California at Berkeley, 1982), testimonia: A 209–211; the earliest evidence is Callim. Hymn 3.237–39, where the Amazons set up a statue of Artemis under an oak. Motte, 98–103. Callim. Hymn 3.257 (meadow at Ephesus); Motte, 31, 67. E.g., Xen.”Cyrop. 1.3.14; Hell. 4.1.15; Oec. 4.14, 20–25. Grimal, 69, 345; Elizabeth B.Moynihan, Paradise as a Garden in Persia and Mughal India (New York: George Braziller, 1979), 2, 19; Hirsch, 152–53, n. 11. Sarah B.Pomeroy, Xenophon’s Oeconomicus: A Social and Historical Commentary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 247–48. Birge, 130; Grimal, 69, 75, 81, compares Alcinous’s garden (Hom. Od. 7.112–131) with both the Persian gardens and Xenophon’s, but while the Odyssey passage does describe a well-watered and carefully cultivated orchard, its language does not resemble Xenophon’s. Birge, 132. Strabo, 14.1.20, 639c; Picard, 62. Picard, 315; E.L.Hicks, Ancient Greek Inscriptions in the British Museum 3: Priene, Iasos, and Ephesos (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1890), p. 79; Richard E.Oster, “Ephesus as a Religious Center Under the Principate, I," ANWR 2. 18 (1990):1662– 1728 at 1707, 1709. This festival is not to be confused with the Panionion festival moved to Ephesus in the fifth century (Thuc. 3.104: see Simon Hornblower, “Thucydides, the Panionian Festival, and the Ephesia (III 104),” Hist. 31 [1982]: 241–45). An alternative date for Artemis’s birthday is 6 Thargalion, celebrated with

NOTES

323. 324. 325. 326. 327. 328.

329. 330.

331.

332.

333.

334. 335. 336. 337. 338. 339.

340.

165

a festival in the Roman period, but with civic, not religious, ceremonies (with no sacrifices and with emphasis on the history of the city as a political unity): Guy MacLean Rogers, The Sacred Identity of Ephesos: foundation Myths of a Roman City (London: Routledge, 1991), esp. 111–112. Athen. Et. Mag. s.v. . Scillus has no calendar in Alan E.Samuel, Greek and Roman Chronology: Calendars and Years in Classical Antiquity (Munich: C.H.Beck, 1972). Paus. 6.20.1. Strabo, 8.3.12, 343. Xen. Cyn. 9, passim; F.Orth, “Jagd,” RE 17 (1914), 558–604 at 564. I owe all practical knowledge concerning modern hunting to personal communication with my brother, William F.Purvis. Anderson, Hunting, 49, notes the differences between modern and ancient hunters in both morality and practicality. Aesch.Ag. 119–20, 133–37. Xen. Cyn. 5.14: “Lovers of the hunt leave newborn hares to Artemis.” Cf. 9.1: “Hunt newborn fawns in spring, since they are born in this season”; 10.18, on hunting of pregnant sows; 11.23, of newborn pigs. E.Marchant, Xenophon. Scripta Minora. Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1925), xxxviii, xl. Lane Fox, 135, questions the worth of Xenophon’s treatise as a practical guide to hunting but at 136 assumes he wrote it while living in the Peloponnese. Osborne, Classical Landscape, 18, discusses Cynegeticus as a moral rather than technical treatise. For doubts about Xenophon’s authorship, see Breitenbach, 1913ff; but the modern consensus accepts Xenophon as author of the Cynegeticus; see, e.g., Jaeger, 329 n. 130; Anderson, Hunting, 161 n.2; Lane Fox, passim; Tuplin, “Xenophon,” 1630. Xen. Cyn. 5.25, 34. On these prohibitions, see Birge, 228–30. Lane Fox, 138, deduces that prohibitions against hunting did not apply to shrines such as Xenophon’s that were sacred to “a specifically hunting deity.” Philostr. Imag. 1.28.6. The late-attested myth (Suda s.v. ; Schol. on Ar. Lys. 645) connected with Brauron also indicates prohibitions against killing tame animals in Artemis’s precinct; see further below. Xen. Cyn. 9.20 (deer); 10.20 (boar). Coulton, 21. Isager and Skydsgaard, 162, fig. 11.1. Bammer, Heiligtum, 250. Picard, 301–302. Picard, 312–15, 326, connecting Menander, Kitharistes, 92–95 Körte ( ) to the Daitis festival procession whose aition is given in Et.Mag. s.v.Daitis. A.Bammer, “Recent excavations at the altar of Artemis in Ephesus,” Archaeology 27 (1974):202–205. See also Bammer, Heiligtum, fig. 76. Romano, 128, regards Bammer’s suggestion as “speculative,” but does provide parallels at 128–29. Attic and Italian vase paintings of the fifth and fourth centuries B.c.sometimes portray sacrifice or libation performed in front of a statue of a deity (e.g., Artémis, Apollo, Hermes) standing on a column, although it is uncertain whether the statue represents the cult image or a votive offering: Brita Alroth, “Changing Modes in the Representation of Cult Images,” in Robin Hägg, ed., The Iconography of Greek

166 NOTES

341.

342. 343.

344.

345. 346.

347.

348. 349. 350. 351. 352. 353. 354. 355.

356. 357. 358. 359. 360.

Cult in the Archaic and Classical Periods. Kernos Suppl. 1, (Athens/Liège: Centre d’Étude de la Religion Grecque Antique, 1992), 9–46, at 11, n. 7; for examples, see 24–43, figs. 10, 16, 18, 21,22, 23. At the festival of Hera on Samos, it is virtually certain that the cult statue was set up on a column outside of the temple: A.Schachter, “Policy, Cult, and the Placing of Greek Sanctuaries,” in Id. and J.Bingen, eds., Le Sanctuaire Grec, 1–57 at 46. Picard, 287–94; Plin. HN 35.93; IEph 27.224–225; Strabo, 14. 1.20; Oster, “Ephesos as a Religious Center,” 1709–1710; Irene Ringwood Arnold, “Festivals of Ephesus,” AJA 76 (1972):17–22, at 18. IMagn 100, LSAM 33, Syll3 695; Nilsson, “Die Prozessiontypen im griechischen Kult,” 177. Bammer, Heiligtum, 153. Ramps at several major sanctuaries appear to be designed to accommodate heavy traffic: P.E.Corbett, “Greek Temples and Greek Worshippers: The Literary and Archaeological Evidence,” BICS 17 (1970): 149–58 at 153. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Glaube 2:237 and n. 1. Similarly, Karl Hoenn, Artemis Gestaltwandel einer Göttin (Zurich: Artemis, 1947), 121; Martin P.Nilsson, Griechische Feste von religiöser Bedeutung mit Ausschluss der attischen (Leipzig: Teubner, 1906), 247. Lendle, 322, notes that Xenophon’s emphasis on the starue’s and temple’s likeness to those at Ephesus contradicts Wilamowitz’s view. Xen. Anab. 7.8.1–6. Pulleyn, 98 and n. 8 cites this passage as an exception to what he considers a general rule, that the names of gods were unimportant in the efficacy of prayers and worship. Bammer, Heiligtum, 157; Michael H.Jameson, “Sacrifice and Animal Husbandry in Classical Greece,” in C.R.Whittaker, ed., Pastoral Economics in Classical Antiquity. Suppl. 4 (Cambridge: Cambridge Philological Society, 1988), 87–119 at 92. The numbers of victims found are designated as goats (39), cattle(8), sheep(6), pigs, (6). Jameson, “Sacrifice,” 92. LSCG 18. B11–12, 8, 8. See Dow, 200. Cattle and pigs are the most expensive animals to raise, and the latter have no other purpose than to produce meat: Jameson, “Sacrifke,” 89. Isager and Skydsgaard, 98. Hom. Il. 3.678–80. E.g., At Epidaurus, it was forbidden to sacrifice goats to Asclepius (Paus. 2.26.9). See Jameson, “Sacrifice,” 106–107, on possible reasons for the prohibition. Lendle, 319. J.G.Frazer, Pausanias’s Description of Greece 4 (London: MacMillan and Co., 1898), 283. Strabo calls Pholoe a mountain of Arcadia, rising close to Olympia, with foothills in Pisatis (8.3.32, 357). According to Pausanias, it rose along the right bank of the Erymanthus river (8.24.4). Hom. Od. 6.102–104. AP 6.111. Eur. HF 181–182. Stesich. 181 PMG ap. Athen. 11.499a–b; Apollod. Bibl. 2.5.4. AP 6.3.

NOTES

167

361. See Farnell, Cults 2, 433–35, 561–64, nn. 19–31; Burkert, GR, 149, on the ubiquity of Artemis as huntress. 362. Picard, 369. 363. See Cole, 57–86. 364. A.Bammer, F.Brien, P.Wolff, “Das Tieropfer am Artemis altar von Ephesos,” in Sencer Sahin, Elmar Schwertheim, and Jörg Wagner, eds., Studien zur Religion und Kultur Kleinasiens. Festschrift f.K.Dörner zum 65. Geburtstag am 28. Februar 1976. EPRO 66 (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1978), 1:107–57 at 108–109. 365. J.T.Wood, Discoveries at Ephesus, Including the Sites and Remains of the Great Temple of Diana (Boston: James R.Osgood & Co., 1887), 260; Elinor Bevan, “The Goddess Artemis, and the Dedication of Bears in Sanctuaries,” BSA 82 (1987):17– 22, at 20 and n. 25. 366. Cf.Pulleyn, 51–53, who notes that a distinction must be made between cult and ornamental epithets derived from myth, e.g., Athena Nike, worshipped as such in cult, versus Athena Glaucopis, a name that could apply to Athena worshipped anywhere and under other epithets. 367. Parker, Athenian Religion, 77–78 and n. 41; fifth-century testimonia for the Diasia: Thuc. 1.126.6; Ar. Clouds, 408–409. 368. H.W.Parke, Festivals of the Athenians (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1977), 88– 92. 369. E.g., the orgeones of Egretes: IG II2 2499 (Syll3 1097; Ferguson, “Attic Orgeones,” 80–81). 370. Robert Parker, “Spartan Religion,” in Anton Powell, ed., Classical Sparta: Techniques Behind her Success (London: Routledge, 1989), 142–72 at 148–49. 371. Jean Louis Durand and Alain Schnapp, “Sacrificial Slaughter and Initiatory Hunt,” in Claude Bérard et. al., A City of lmages: Iconography and Society in Ancient Greece. Deborah Lyons, transl. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989), 53–70; Alain Schnapp, “Images et Programme: Les Figurations Archaïques de la chasse au Sanglier,” RA 2 (1979):195–218. 372. Anderson, Hunting, 24–26; Lane Fox, 125, 134; Parke, Festivals, 125. 373. E.g., Anderson, Hunting; Alain Schnapp, “Représentation du Territoire de guerre et du territoire de chasse dans l’oeuvre de Xénophon,” in M.I.Finley, ed., Problèmes de la terre en Grèce (Paris: Mouton, 1973), 307–21; Ephraim David, “Hunting in Spartan Society and Consciousness,” EMC 37, n.s. 12 (1993):393– 413. 374. Xen. Cyn. 1.18. 375. Ibid., 12.1–2. 376. Ibid., 12.2–4. 377. H.W.Pleket, “Collegium luvenum Nemesiorum: A Note on Ancient Youth Organizations,” Mnemosyne ser. 4, vol. 22 (1969):281–98 at 292, n. 47 (Pl. Laws 824a–b and Xen. Cyrop. 1.14.11 present ideals, not reports of common practice) and 293–94; Anderson, Hunting, 17–27. 378. (Xen. Cyn. 13.17). 379. Nilsson, GGR I3 484. 380. , Eur. Hipp. 17–18. Cf. AP 6.268, a dedication to Artemis, requests her protection as she strides over wooded hills urging on her hounds.

168 NOTES

381. Eur. Hipp. 73–74, 82–83. 382. Plut. Arist. 20.6; D.C.Braund, “Artemis Euklea and Euripides’s Hippolytus,” JHS 100 (1980):184–85. On the cult to Hippolytus at Troezen, Athens, and elsewhere see W.S.Barrett, Euripides “Hippolytos” (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964), 3–6. 383. Eur. Hipp. 58–72; Philostr. Imag. 1.28.6, quoted above. 384. The myth relates that when a tame bear in the sanctuary scratched a girl, her brother killed it; a plague followed, and the goddess ordered that girls should dress in saffron robes (one source specifies himatia) and imitate bears. Suda s.v. ; Schol. on Ar. Lys. 645. A collection and discussion of the variants of this legend are given in William Sale, “The TempleLegends of the Arkteia,” RhM 118 (1975):265–84. See also M.P.Nilsson, Cults, Myths, Oracles, and Politics in Ancient Greece (Lund: C.W.K.Gleerup , 1951), 40–41; Price, 121– 22; Osborne, Demos, 154–72. For a list of the finds from Brauron (none indicating a real hunt) see Athanasios Io. Antoniou, (Athens: A. Antoniou, 1990). 385. Petros G.Themelis, Brauron. Guide to the Site and Museum (Athens: Apollo Editions, 1971), 24. For a catalog of the vases see Thomas F.Scanlon, “Race or Chase at the Arkteia of Attica,” Nikephoros 3 (1990):73–120 at 109–20. 386. L.Kahil, “Autor de l’Artémis attique,” AntK 8 (1965): 20–33; Ead., “L’Artémis de Brauron: rites et mystère,” AntK 20 (1977):86–98; Ead., “Le Cratérisque d’Artémis et le Brauronion de l’Acropole,” Hesp. 50 (1981): 253–63; Erika Simon, Festivals of Attica: An Archaeological Commentary (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1983), 87–88; Steven H.Lonsdale, Ritual Play in Greek Religion (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993), 186–93 and fig. 22; Themelis, Brauron, 16– 17. 387. Kahil, “L’Artémis de Brauron,” 93, fig. B, pl. 19. 388. Ibid., 86–98. 389. Scanlon, 88–89. 390. Themelis, Brauron, 17; John Kontis, “ ,” AD 22A (1967):156–206 at 166, 170, 201; Mary B.Hollinshead, “Legend, Cult, and Architecture at Three Sanctuaries of Artemis” (PhD Diss., Bryn Mawr, 1980), 51. 391. Lonsdale, 190–91. 392. Kontis, “ ,” 187–88, 202; id., “Brauron: the Sanctuary of Artemis,” in Evi Melas, ed., Temples and Sanctuaries of Ancient Greece. Translated by F.Maxwell Brownjohn (London: Thames and Hudson, 1973), 49–58 at 54; Themelis, Brauron, 17. 393. Kontis, “ ,” 187–88. 394. Hesych. s.v. (on rhapsodes); Kontis, “ARTEMIS,” 170; Antoniou, 54; Osborne, Demos, 172. 395. Ar.Peace 874; Lys 641. 396 . Athen. 14.646e; Bekker, Anecd. 249.7; Et Mag. s.v. . 397. Parke, Festivals of the Athenians, 125. The sacrifice of deer to Artemis is also mentioned in Porph. de Abst. 2.25. 398. Hom. Od. 10.182. 399. Paul Stengel, “Zu den griechischen Sacralalterthümern,” Hermes 22 (1887):86–100, at 99–100.

NOTES

400. 401. 402. 403. 404. 405. 406. 407. 408.

409. 410.

411. 412. 413.

414. 415. 416. 417. 418. 419. 420. 421. 422.

423. 424.

169

Xen. Anab. 5.3.9. Orth, 566. Xen. Cyn. 6.13. Ibid., 5. 14. Arrian, De Venat. 33. AP 6.111. Schnapp, “Sacrificial Slaughter,” 58 fig. 82. Ibid., 61,fig. 86. Rouse, 50–51; Olivier de Cazanove, “Suspension d’ex-voto dans les bois sacres,” in Les Bois Sacrés. Actes du Colloque International organisé par le Centre Jean Bérard et l’Ecole Practique des Hautes Etudes (Ve section) Naples, 23–25 Nov. 1989 (Naples: Collection du Centre Jean Bérard, 10, 1993), 11–26; Orth, 565–66; Carl Boetticher, Der Baumkultus der Hellenen (Berlin: Weidmann, 1856), 69–71; figs. 10 (deer head tied to a pillar); 31 (deer skull fastened to a tree); 58 (deer skull hung on mantle of aedicula). See Farnell, Cults 2, 561–63 and Brulotte, passim; Jost, Sanctuaires, 395, 404–405. Brulotte, 43–57, no. 21; W.Reichel and A.Wilhelm, “Das Heiligtum der Artemis zu Lusoi,” ÖJh 4 (1901):1–89, at 37; Jost, Sanctuaires, 404, 419–25. On this sanctuary, see also Paus. 8.18.8; Callim. Hymn 3. 233–36; IG V 2.387–96, which shows that the sanctuary contained the city’s documents from the fourth-third centuries B.C.; Polyb. 4.18.8; Strabo 5.215. Brulotte, 50, 56–57; Reichel and Wilhelm, 22, 37, 45, 48–49. Brulotte, 49 and n. 166; Reichel and Wilhelm, 18–19, fig. 10. The base is not listed in Gill, Greek Cult Tables. Winifred Lamb, “Arcadian Bronze Statuettes,” BSA 27 (1925–26):133–48; for speculations about ritual, see Ulrich Hübinger, “On Pan’s Iconography and the Cult in the Sanctuary of Pan on the Slopes of Mount Lykaion,” in Hägg, Iconography, 189–212, at 205. Lamb, 138, no. 12, figs. 1 and 2 (hunter with fox); Hübinger, 198, 199, fig 12 (relief of hunter, boar, and dog); Lamb, 145, no. 42; Hübinger, 204–205, fig. 16 (fox). Hübinger, 204 and n. 28 for evidence from artistic representations. Xen. Lac. 5.3; on hunting in Sparta, see Anderson, Hunting, 24–26; David, passim. IG V.l 260; IG V.l 279; Woodward, “Inscriptions,” in Dawkins, 285–89, 303–47. Nigel M.Kennell, The Gymnasium of Virtue: Education and Culture in Ancient Sparta (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1995), 53. Brulotte, 246–47, no. 170b. Orth, 566. H.Gropengiesser, “Two Altars of Artemis at Olympia,” in Hägg, Early Greek Cult Practice, 125–26; Brulotte, 157, no. 124 and n. 514. Lane Fox, 137–38; Franz Poland, Geschichte des Griechischen Vereinswesens (Leipzig: Teubner, 1909), 105; 188. Pleket, “Collegium Iuvenum Nemesiorum” 291–94. Hellenistic examples include a hunting association dedicated to Artemis whose members were Athenians settled at Haliartus: IG VII 2850 (122/1 B.C.). IG IX. 1 654 (LSCG 86). SEG 26.1215; J.H.Oliver, “Arrian in Two Roles,” in Studies in Attic Epigraphy, History, and Topography Presented to Eugene Vanderpool. Hesperia Suppl. 19 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1982), 122–29 at 122–25. Arrian’s

170 NOTES

425. 426.

427. 428.

429.

430. 431. 432. 433. 434.

435. 436. 437. 438. 439. 440. 441.

442. 443. 444. 445. 446. 447.

448.

inscription is nothing like Xenophon’s; it is a “facetious” epigram that claims the gifts of the Muses are better than the hunt (125). Burkert, GR, 8. The transformation of the participants and spectators of cult processions and other rituals to “heroic time,” simulating their interaction with divinities (even if represented by humans), has been argued by Sinos, 84–85. IG II2 3138; Nilsson, Griechische Feste, 243. The Athenian Artemis Agrotera bears an epithet betraying perhaps her original worship by hunters who celebrated their success with festivals that only later became connected with war and other types of contest: see Robertson, Festivals and Legends, 231; 230–231 on the Ithomaean “Hundred-Slaughter” in Messenia, which Robertson reconstructs as hunters’ thank offerings to Zeus. Prizes common to Peloponnesian festivals include wreathes, cloaks, and bronzes: Dillon Pilgrims, 114–16. On wreathes made from plants within a sanctuary see Birge, 175 and 216–17. Durand and Schnapp, 60, fig. 85; Alain Schnapp, “Eros the Hunter,” in City of lmages, 71–87 at 76, fig. 104; 77, fig. 105; 78, fig. 106. Arrian, Cyn. 33; Parker, Miasma, 113, n. 37. Dillon, Pilgrims, 140. Bammer, Heiligtum, 153. Tents were often used to shelter feasts at sanctuaries. Cf. Eur. Ion 1122–98; the private mysteries at Andania in Messenia (where the size of tents was regulated), LSCG 65.34–37 (92/1 B.C.); Dillon, Pilgrims, 209–10; 160; Németh, 61–62. See Guarducci, Epigrafia 4, 46–58. IG XII.5 41; Guarducci, Epigrafia 4, 63. For other examples, see Guarducci, Epigrafia 4, 59–66, passim. Guarducci, Epigrafia 4, 68–71. E.g., Eur. Hipp. 60; Aesch. Eum. 61; Antiph. 1.31. Xen. Hell. 6.4.30. Ibid., 6.4.31. Parke and Wormell, nos. 84.9; 130.1; 254.2; and 447 attest the verb in contexts of protection of certain people, as does no. 329, referring to a later period. A Roman parallel may be found in Tacitus Ann. 1.73.4: deorum iniurias dis curae (my thanks to the reader for this reference). Walzer, 22. Lendle, 322. On these foundations, see Laum; Mannzmann; Kamps; S.M.Sherwin-White, “Inscriptions from Cos,” ZPE 24 (1977): 205–17 at 210–17. For these practices in private associations, see Ferguson, “Attic Orgeones”; M.H.Jameson, “The Vowing of a Pelanos,” AJP 77 (1956):55–60. Laum, 1:41, 61, 243; Lendle, 321. Lendle, 321, also noting that Xenophon did not use his own money for the foundation as did the later founders of Stiftungen; Lendle, however, assumes that Xenophon intends the foundation to be inherited by his children. IG II2 1289.9–13. …. Cf.Ferguson, “Attic Orgeones,” 84–86, with speculations about the title of the official, contra Kirchner’s restoration given here.

NOTES

171

449. Hanfmann and Ramage, Sculpture from Sardis, 162, no. 241, with translation and bibliography. 450. Versnel, “Religious Mentality in Ancient Prayer,” 23. The Roman period witnessed curses to discourage the movement or damage of statues erected mostly by Herodes Atticus; these resemble Xenophon’s inscription in that they address “whoever holds the land” and invoke the gods as witnesses. See Jennifer Tobin, Herodes Attikos and the City of Athens: Patronage and Conflict under tbe Antonines. APXAIA E A 4 (Amsterdam: J.C.Gieben, 1997), 113–60. 451. Eastern boundary stones invoking the gods and pronouncing curses on those who damaged them may have led to the use of the word as an apotropaic device to begin inscriptions of decrees: R.Pounder, “The Origin and Meaning of in Greek Inscription Headings,” in K.Rigsby, ed., Studies Presented to Sterling Dow. GRBS Monograph 10 (Durham, NC: Editors of GRBS, 1984), 243–50. 452. See Guarducci, Epigrafia 4, 222–39; Mikalson, 34–38. 453. Aeschin. 3.108–11; Guarducci, Epigrafia 4, 224–25. 454. Cf.Isager and Skydsgaard, 174: “a tithe of the spoils of war is converted into sacred ground, which becomes the property of Artemis, and from this, in its turn, a tithe is taken to maintain the cult.” 455. SEG 35.389; Peter Siewert, “Die neue Bürgerrechtsverleihung der Triphylier aus Mási bei Olympia,” Tyche 2 (1987):275–77 at 275, lines 3–8. 456. Paus. 5.6.6. 457. Lendle, 322. 458. Paus. 5.6.6. 459. Diog. Laert. 2.53; 2.56. 460. Tuplin, The Failings of Empire 31–32. Xenophon lived at least until 356/5, since a passage in Vect. (5.8–9) refers to events of that year (the struggle over control of Delphi). 461. SEG 33.932.IV.14–16.

CONCLUSION 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Burkert, GR, 95–97; Sian Lewis, 39–40. Philoch. FGrH 328 F 97. Philoch. FGrH 328 F 5. Hellan. FGrH 323a F2; Androt. FGrH 324 F2. Pierre Lévêque and Pierre Vidal-Naquet, Cleisthenes the Athenian: An Essay on the Representation of Space and Time in Greek Political Thought from the End of the Sixth Century to the Death of Plato. Translated by David Ames Curtis (Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press, 1996), 48, on Cleisthenes’s contributions to Athenian religion and the various mythical and historical models for an archegetes. 6. Eur. IT 1463–64. On this and other mythical precedents see Kron, 153 and n. 64. Private foundations by women have been collected by Kron, 139–82, who explains the phenomenon as part of a trend beginning in the fifth century and culminating in the third.

172 NOTES

7. Aesch. Frag. 168 Radt (355 Mette). For a discussion and other examples of heroes as cult founders see Kearns, “Between God and Man,” 80–82, 89–93, 98. 8. See Malkin, Religion and Colonization. 9. See H.S.Versnel, Ter Unus. Isis, Dionysus, Hermes: Three Studies in Henotheism. Inconsistencies in Greek and Roman Religion 1. Studies in Greek and Roman Religion 6 (Leiden: E.J.Brill, 1990), 105–31; Lynn Roller, “The Mother of the Gods in Attic Tragedy,” in Lane, ed., Cybele, Attis, and Related Cults, 305–21 at 314– 16. 10. Hom. Hymn 3.294–99. 11. Ibid., 388–544. 12. Pind. Ol. 10.43–59. 13. Bacch. frag. 4.50–53; W.S.Barrett, “Bacchylides, Asine, and Apollo Pythaeius,” Hermes 82 (1954):421–44. 14. Hom. Il. 8.236–41. See Noel Robertson, “Athena and Early Greek Society: Palladium Shrines and Promontory Shrines,” in Dillon, ed., Religion in the Ancient World, 383–475 at 468–72, who shows that this type of shrine was often dedicated to Athena as protectress of sea travellers. 15. Kearns, “Between God and Man,” 81. 16. , Hom. Il. 6.289–91. On the passage and parallels for the practice, see Robertson, “Athena and Early Greek Society,” 435. 17. For analysis of the evidence for the legends and their expression in ritual, see Robertson, “Athena and Early Greek Society,” 383–435. 18. E.g., Whitehead, Ideology, 88–89. 19. Graf (“Bermerkungen,” 109–11) discusses these benefits of cult foundation for Artemidorus of Perge on Thera and compares Xenophon’s cult at Scillus. 20. Pulleyn, 29–31. At 30–31, Pulleyn raises the question of how often or how long one could use the same reminder of a sacrifice or gift, proposing that while humandivine reciprocity was not “mercantile,” one might sometimes guess he was pushing a god too far and vow a new gift or sacrifice. Pulleyn, however, neglects the solution found by the worshipper who has furnished a place of cult and thus an ever-present source of both past and future gits to the god. 21. Hom. Il. 1.39: . 22. Hom. Od. 5.447–48. 23. Pulleyn, 64 (between these stances is the more neutral ). On Chryses, Hom. Il. 1.37–42, see Pulleyn, 16–17; on Odysseus, Hom. Od. 5.444–450, see Pulleyn, 53. 24. Charles Stewart, Dreams and the Devil: Moral Imagination in Modern Greek Culture (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991), 83–91.

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Index of Ancient Sources

AUTHORS AND TEXTS

11.499a–b:108 14.646e:112 14.649e:105 Bacch. Frag. 4.50–53:124 Callim. A.p 6.121:154n. 78 Hymn 3.237–50:101 3.257:104 Dem. 18. 141:18 18. 154:11 18.259–60:6 25 Hypoth.: 111 Dio Chrys. 8.1:82 Diod.Sic. 9.32:99 Diog. Laert. 2.51:79, 84 2.51–52:81–82 2.52:84, 158n. 145 2.53:119 2.56:119 2.58:82 Eur. HF 181–182:108 Hipp. 17–18:111 58–72:111 73–74:111 82–83:111 IT 1463–64:123 Phoen. 667:56 Eus. PE 5.32:89 Hellan. FGrH 125 F4:29, 138n. 108 323 F2:123 Hdt. 1.26:77 1.59.1:93 2.148:77 3.142.2:13 4.13–16:55 4.158:42 6.105–106:61–62

Acts 19.24–27:103 19.27:100 Ael. VH 2.33:25 Aesch. Ag. 119–20:105 133–37:105 Frag. 168 Radt: 123 Choeph. 940–41:56 Sept. 217:11 Aeschin. 3.108–11:118 Androtion FGrH 324 F2:123 328 F155:131n. 66 Antiphon 1.14–20:5 AP 6.3:108 6.11:108 6.111:112 Apollod. Bibl. 2.5.4:108 Ar.Clouds 598–600:78 Frag. 256 Kassel-Austin: 10 Lys. 641:111 Peace 874:111 923:10 1070–73:55 Wealth 1197–1198:10 Arist. Ath. Pol. 55.2:134n.30 Eud. Eth. 1214a: 54 Pol. 1267b–1268b:12 1331a 24–31:9 1329b36–1330a35:12 Rhet. 1398b 30:94 Arrian De Venat. 33:112 Athen. 2.39c:29 190

INDEX OF ANCIENT SOURCES

8.20:55 8.77:55 8.96:55 9.43:55 Hippocr. Int. 48 (7.286 L): 56, 147n. 163 Hom. Il. 1.39:125 1.136:54 3.678–80:108 6.289–91:124 8.236–41:124 18.71:54 23.141–53:23 Od. 5.447–48:125–26 7.112–131:167n. 319 10.182:112 17.205–11:34 Hom.Hymn 3.162–64:38 3.294–99:124 3.388–544:124 Isaeus 8.15–16:5 Lycurg. Leocr. 25:10 Lys. 7.4:10–11 7.22:10–11 7.29:10–11 21.4:139n. 121 Men. Dys. 260–63:7 643:54 Paus. 1.2.5:29 1.37.3:23 2.2.6:99 4.31.8:100 5.5.6:103–104 5.6.4:82 5.6.5:82 5.6.6:119 5.7.3:163n. 238 6.20.1:105 7.2.4:78, 100 8.23.1:99 8.30.6:99 9.22.2:9 10.12.11:55 Pind. Frag. 174:78, 100 Nem. 7.86–101:8 Ol. 10 43–59:124 Pyth. 3.77–79:130n. 43 4. 294:42 5.89:42

191

Philoc. FGrH 328 F5:123 328 F97:123 Philostr. Imag. 1.28.6:105–106, 111 Pl. Crat. 408a–b:27 Laws 5. 738t–c:7–8, 57 10.909e–910a:8, 57, 58 Phdr. 238b–c:54 241e:54 263d:54 Tim. 21b:30 [PI] Epin. 985c:57 Plin.HN 16.79:101 Plut. Demal.Hdt. 869c–d:75, 153–154n.74 Nic. 3.7:7 Them. 22.1–2:75, 153–154n. 74 Pol. frag. 40 Preller: 29 Posidipp. AP 16. 275:16 Schol. Ar. Peace 923:10 Strab. 4.1.4:97 4.1.5:101 8.3.12:105 8.7.5:96, 163n. 241 Stesich. 181 PMG: 108 Tac. Hist. 4.83:59 Theophr. Char. 16.4:5 Thuc. 3.68:85, 159n. 162 3.68.3:89 5.31.2:87 5.32.1:85 Timoth. Persae 132–137:78 173–174:78 Vitr. De Arch 2.9.13:101 Xen. Ages. 1.36:80, 81, 157n. 127 Anab. Thematic structure of: 68–74 1.6.7:99 3.1.5:95 3.1.5–8:76 3.1.6:73 4.8.23–28:71 5.1.17–5.2.2:71 5.3.3:66 53.4:74–79 5.3.4–13: chapter 4 5.3.5–6:79–82 5.3.6:80–81

192 INDEX OF ANCIENT SOURCES

5.3.7:84–87, 92–115 5.3.8:96, 82–83, 92–115 5.3.9:112, 87–92, 102–108 5.3.11:82–83, 87–92, 104–108 5.3.12:101–108 5.3.13:115–118 5.4.34:71 5.5.2–3:72 6.1.4:160n. 173 6.1.23:76, 99 7.8.1–6:107 Cyn. 1.18:110 5.14:105, 167n. 330, 112 5.25:105 5.34:105 6.13:112 9.20:106 9:105 10.20:106 12.1–2:110 12.2–4:110 13.17:110

Hell 1.2.6:77 3.2.22:93 3.2.23:158–159n. 150 3.2.30:85 3.2.31:87 3.4.16–17:80, 81, 157n. 127 3.4.20:80 4.2.20:75 4.3.15:79–80 4.3.21:79–80 4.7.2:93–94 4.8.37:156n. 117 6.4.30–31:116 6.5.2:159n. 152 7.4.28:87 Lac. 5.3:113 13.8:75 Mem. 3.1.7:103–104 3.8.10:96–97 4.2.8–10:103 Vect. 6.2–3:94 [Xen.] Ath. Pol. 2.8:142n. 39

INSCRIPTIONS Bean, “Notes and Inscriptions from Caunus,” 37B.6:58 38C.16 [E.4]:58 BMI IV 813:59–60 CEG 1.243:56 1.321:33, 38–39 2.743:24–25, 31 2.744: chapter 2 passim 2.763:60–61 2.765:61 2.818:50 2.830.5:23–24, 136n. 63 2.854:58–59 2.860:59–60 2.888.iii:98 Decourt (Etudes Epigraphiques 3:1. Thess.) no. 72:17 no. 73:17–18 no. 58:137n. 78 IC IV 64:90 IEph 1a.1 :77

1a 12:98 1b.24. c. 9–14:99–100 IG I3 750:56 773:37, 773A:56 78.54–56:9 78.55–56:9 974: 51–52 976A:51 976B–C: 52 977A: 44 977B: 37, 44–50 978 34 979:41–42 980:33, 37, 38–39, 47 981:41 982:51 986A: 24–25, 312.743 986Ba:24, 136n. 73 986BB: 24 987: chapter 2 passim 1066:9, 130n. 50 IG II2 204.69–70:11

INDEX OF ANCIENT SOURCES

337:9 1035:11 1177.3–4:9 1283:9, 90, 98–99 1289.9–13:117 1388.74:75 4355:60–61 4358:61 4547:18–21 4548: chapter 2 passim 4960:60 4961.15–16:60 4969: 94–95 IG IV.2 1.237:50 IG V.1 260:113 279:113 IG V.2 261.15:56 IG IX.1 654:114 IG XII.3 248:95–96 330:18 349:35 350–363:34–35 351:42 353:42 377:34 378:34 245:36 421–422:57–58 464:57 494:57 863:57–58 IG XII.3 Suppl. 1312:51 1315–1318:34–35 1324:141n. 30 1330:57 1333–1348:57–58 IG XII.5 41:115 IMagn 100:107 215:98 IPriene 196:58–59 IvO 9:86–87 11:90 16:87, 160n. 178 293.5:23–24, 136n. 63 LGS 125:34 126:34 LSAM 33:107

193

LSCG 18:107–108 34:9 86:114 129:95–96 132:34 180.1–6:19–20 LSCG Suppl. 17A : chapter 2 passim 17B:18–21 34:9, 130n. 50 72B:17, 133n. 20, n. 21 128:9, 130n. 50 Meritt, “Greek Inscriptions,” no. 18:23 “A Decree of Orgeones,” p. 283: 24–25 Metzger, Fouilles de Xanthos VI. 32–33: 58 Paton and Hicks, Inscriptions of Cos no. 53:58 SEG 3.406:54 26.1215:114 35.389:118 36.750.8:16 SGDI IV 70a: 44 70b: 44–50 Syll3 581.56:133n. 20 695:107 867:99–100 977.29–32:95–96 1005:94–95 1122:81

Index of Divinities

Achelous 21 Acratopotes 29 Acratus 29 Aphrodite 9, 96 Apollo 17, 19, 20, 41, 42–43, 50, 53, 55, 57, 68, 73, 74–75, 80, 89, 94, 112, 118, 121, 124, 125 Asgelatas 96 Carneus 35, 42 Delian 7, 38 Epicurus 76 Leader of the Muses (Mousagete) 20 Patroos 5, 134n. 30, 18 Prostaterius 20 Pythios/Pythaios 21, 18, 76, 92, 94, 116, 124, 134n. 30 Archilochus 20 Artemis 21, 23, 25, 38, 73, 75, 83, 91–92, 96–97, 98–99, 103, 107–15, 118, 121 Agrotera 73, 75 Aristoboule 75 Brauronian 111–12, 123 Chitone 101 Elaphebolos/Elapheia: see Artemis Huntress Ephesia 3, 66–68, 73, 74–81, 88, 92, 97–102, 104, 105–107, 109, 114, 115, 118, 119, 121, 122 Eukleia 20, 111 Hecate 107 Hegemone 76 Huntresss 10, 75, 105–106, 109, 111– 14 Of Koloe 118 Locheia Ileithya 18 Orthia 99

Of Perge 56 Asclepius 7, 13, 17, 60–61, 94–95, 96, 124 Athena 76, 118, 123, 124 Hyperdexia 20 Pallas 56 Pronaea 118 Basileus of Caunus 58 Bendis 9, 36 Callirhoe 21 Cyrene 43 Cephisus 15–16, 19, 20, 23–27 passim, 30–31, 32, 122 Chais/Charites 51 Chiron 17, 27 Core 36, 59–60, 100 Cronus 123 Cybele 36, 98 Demeter 36, 59–60, 99, 100 Despoina 99 Dionysus 20, 27, 28–30, 98, 114, 123 Diocuri 57 Echelus 24–25 Eileithyia 21 Eros 54 Geraistai Nymphai Genethliai 18 Hecate 57 Helius 118 Hera 77, 85, 89, 102, 123

194

195

Heracles 17, 20, 27, 28–29, 71, 73, 78, 102, 124 Hermes 17, 24, 27, 28, 29, 52, 59–60 Hestia 19, 21 Hippolytus 10, 111, 114 Homonoia 57, 58 Horai 20, 123 Hygieia 17 Iasile 24 Isis 9 Leto 21, 38, 98, 118 Memnosyne: 20 Muses 20, 54 Naulochus 58–59, 121 Nymphs 17, 19, 20, 21, 24, 33–35, 38–39, 41, 43, 44, 48, 50, 51, 53–55, 57, 60, 122, 123, 124 Pan 17, 18, 52, 54, 61 Poseidon 57 Asphaleius: 20 Priapus 57 Ptolemy III 57 Rhapso 19, 21 Rhea 123 Samothracian Gods 57, 109 Serapis 59 Silenus 29 Themsmophoroi 58 Tyche 57 Zeus 11, 29, 42, 57, 71, 72–73, 94, 124 Basileus 107 Herkeios 5, 134n. 30 Hyperdexius 20 Ktesias 5 Melichius 107 Olympius 86–87, 92–94, 124

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