ALEXANDER DALE

TOPICS IN ALCMAN’S PARTHENEION

aus: Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 176 (2011) 24–38

© Dr. Rudolf Habelt GmbH, Bonn

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TOPICS IN ALCMAN’S PA RTHENEION

The papyrus containing what is aptly (though anachronistically) referred to as Alcman’s First Partheneion, or The Partheneion, was discovered close to the dawn of modern papyrology at Saqqara by Auguste Mari-ette in 1855, and published eight years later in Egger 1863.1 Yet despite the relative wealth of time that the text has been known, the enigma surrounding the Partheneion seems in some ways to have only increased – indeed is perhaps in part due to the multitude of ingenious and persuasive interpretations advanced by many of the best scholars of the past 150 years. Much of the obscurity of the poem is not due to diffi culties of language and syntax (in this respect we are a long way from Pindar) but to the very occasional nature of the performance and ritual that the song accompanied. Deixis abounds, and the names and references that so confound the modern reader would have been self-evident to the intended audience. It is a testimony to the beauty and simplicity of the language that the poem is as accessible as it is.

One must approach the task of adding to the bibliography on the poem with a certain degree of humil-ity, in full awareness that no single interpretation is likely to command universal support. In what follows my fi rst objective is to examine the text as a whole, in the hope of establishing how the fragmentary mythi-cal narrative at the beginning of the papyrus relates to the ritual narrative we fi nd later. Building upon this I re-examine the notorious lines 60–3, which in the light of the preceding argument, and with the help of some new evidence, appear less tortuous than is often thought. I conclude with further readings of sev-eral disputed passages. Even if we had a complete text of the Partheneion before us, it is likely that many problems of interpretation would remain, and lightning seldom strikes twice. And although we could never aspire to appreciate the song as its original audience did, it is hoped that the following arguments might dispel some of the mystery and uncertainty surrounding aspects of our earliest appreciable specimen of choral lyric poetry.

Myth and Ritual

A fi rst and obvious observation concerning the structure of the Partheneion is that the myth narrated in the fi rst half2 of the poem must be of relevance to the choral ceremony that occupies the main part of our preserved text.3 All fragmentary texts can, and at times of necessity must, lend themselves to fragmented readings, and the Partheneion has been particularly susceptible to this approach; a number of excellent studies treat the two halves as if completely independent, e.g. Page 1951; Clay 1991. Otherwise interpret-ers often focus on one half without reference to the other, e.g. Puelma 1977. It is however generally and rightly accepted today that in early lyric the narrated myths usually have a direct connection to the context of the poem, and are not merely decorative digressions.4 We would not imagine Pindar to have written an epinician in which the myth had at best some vague and general relevance to the occasion for which it was

1 Discussion and partial transcription in Egger 1863; full text with plates in Egger 1865.2 There is no indication of the overall length of the poem. Diels 1896:340–1 calculated that the column preceding our fi rst

column must have contained 35 lines, and that the overall length of the poem was 140 lines. Wilamowitz 1897:251 n. 1 pointed out that there is no reason to suppose that the previous column was the fi rst of the poem, and Davison 1938:441 observes that the length with which the end of the myth is narrated might indicate that the missing portion of the poem, which must have begun with the sort of invocation of the Muses we fi nd elsewhere in Alcman, was considerably in excess of 35 lines. Through-out I refer to the two halves of the poem without meaning to convey any particular opinion about its overall length.

3 This observation was made with particular force by Robbins 1994.4 Cf. MacLeod 1974. On the internal coherence of archaic lyric see e.g. Fowler 1987:53–85, and in particular his discus-

sion of Alcaeus fr. 298 Voigt at pp. 58–63. For mythological narrative in early elegy (with reference to the new Archilochus) see Obbink 2006; West 2006. Fowler acknowledges (p. 70) that the myth in the Partheneion likely ‘paralleled the composition of the choir(s) or was relevant in some way to the occasion of the ceremony’, but demurs from offering any suggestions.

Topics in Alcman’s Partheneion 25

commissioned, and we should allow for the same level of coherence and structural organisation in earlier lyric.5 A fi rst question to address then is the nature and content of the myth in the Partheneion.

The myth concerning the Hippocoöntidae most widely known in later antiquity, it would seem, was their death at the hands of Heracles on account of a feud with Hippocoön which resulted in the slaying of Heracles’ cousin Oenus.6 On the strength of Clement of Alexandria, Protrepticus 36, who tells us that Sosibius, the Laconian commentator on Alcman, said that an incident from this myth in which Heracles was wounded in the hand was recounted in Alcman’s fi rst book, it is often thought that this myth is to be seen in the Partheneion (cf. Page 1951:30; Hutchinson 2001:79–80). Another, though less well attested ver-sion which is attributed to Euphorion7 tells us that the sons of Hippocoön were ἀντιμνηϲτῆρεϲ, rival suit-ors, to Castor and Polydeuces.8 Already Page 1951:32–33 saw that the moral at lines 16–21 (see below, and Supplementary Note I) is much more suited to an erotic rivalry between the Hippocoöntidae and Tyndari-dae than to the account given in Pausanias.9 If we were to connect the injunction that a mortal should not seek a goddess in marriage with the account in Pausanias, in which there is no erotic rivalry whatsoever, its applicability would be extremely weak.10 Furthermore, the hypothesis that the myth did indeed deal with an erotic rivalry between the Tyndaridae and Hippocoöntidae over a goddess or goddesses11 gains greater support from a careful reading of the two halves of the poem.

The fi rst word of the preserved text stands alone: Πωλυδεύκηϲ.12 The nominative form is in marked contrast to the ensuing eight lines of accusatives: Polydeuces is the slayer, the following are the slain. After the catalogue of the fallen,13 the chorus moves on to moralizing interpretation of the myth: mere mortals must not soar too high nor seek marriage with a goddess – only the Graces may enter the house of Zeus (lines 16–21). The following lines (22–33) most likely continued the preceding myth and refl ections14 – the earlier catalogue of the fallen is separated from the description of the manner of their death15 by a gnomic refl ection, a form of interrupted narrative not uncommon in later lyric.16 The text picks up again at the end of a strophe, lines 34–9:

ἄλαϲτα δὲϝέργα πάϲον κακὰ μηϲαμένοι.

ἔϲτι τιϲ ϲιῶν τίϲιϲ·

5 On Pindar’s myths see i.a. Köhnken 1971; Young 1971:34–46; Erbse 1999.6 Pausanias 3. 15. 3; Apoll. Bib. 2. 7. 3; Strabo 10. 461; Diodorus 4. 35. 5, etc. See Page 1951:27–30; Gantz 1993:427–8.7 Σ Clem. Alex. Protr. 36. 2, p. 200 Marcovich = fr. 29, p. 35 CA.8 The relevance of this account to Alcman was fi rst suggested by Bergk 1865:3, who also saw that the tradition represented

by Pausanias was inappropriate in this context. See also Davison 1938:441–5. Calame as well suggests that the myth we have in Alcman is different from the commonly known one, 1983:313–14 on v. 1.

9 Page has been followed by a number of subsequent critics, e.g. Garvie 1965:186; Robbins 1994. There are however nota-ble exponents of the contrary view, who see no evidence of the myth told by Euphorion, e.g. Hutchinson 2001:79–80.

10 Ferrari 2008:22–9 endorses the common version as told by Pausanias, and argues that it serves to legitimize Spartan dual kingship. She is at a loss to see how the moral can be related to the myth.

11 The scholiast on Clement (above, n. 7) does not tell us the identity of the goddess(es); quite possibly the Leucippidae, cf. Garvie 1965; Robbins 1994 favours the idea that the myth was focused on Polydeuces and Phoebe specifi cally.

12 Castor would have immediately preceded in the missing lines. Alcman fr. 2 provides an iconic example of the schema Alcmanicum: Κάϲτωρ τε πώλων ὠκέων δματῆρεϲ ἱππόται ϲοφοὶ / καὶ Πωλυδεύκηϲ κυδρόϲ, where Polydeuces follows Castor. Furthermore, Κάϲτωρ followed by polysyllabic Πωλυδεύκηϲ, particularly with epithet as here, is a good example of Behaghel’s law (though the construction is more common with three constituents).

13 Ferrari 2008:22 rightly compares the list of the dead at Aesch. Pers. 302–30.14 Thus Robbins 1994:15; Hutchinson 2001:84. An alternative is the battle of the Gods and Giants, fi rst proposed by Diels

1896:347. See also Davison 1938:444–5; Page 1951:42–3.15 Cf. esp. 30–2 τῶν δ’ ἄλλοϲ ἰῶι / ] μαρμάρωι μυλάκρωι / ] ̣ εν Ἀΐδαϲ.16 Cf. e.g. Pind. Ol. 1. 52–5, where the description of the feast of Tantalus is separated from the description of his punish-

ment by a break-off and gnomic refl ection (ἀκέρδεια λέλογχεν θαμινὰ κακαγόρουϲ).

26 A. Dale

ὃ δ’ ὄλβιοϲ, ὅϲτιϲ εὔφρωνἁμέραν [δι]απλέκειἄκλαυτοϲ.

Unforgettably they suffered, having plotted evil. There is such a thing as the gods’ vengeance, and blessed is the wise man who weaves out his day without tears.

It is hardly the case that ‘[i]n a moment the dark and evil deeds of legendary sinners are forgotten’, as Page 1951:44 would have it. The focus shifts, but the progression of thought is both linear and logical. Refl ection on ‘the evil deeds of sinners’ gives way to the praise of Agido, and by praising Agido the chorus implicitly rejects the strife and hybris inherent in the preceding myth, and in so doing identifi es itself with the one who is εὔφρων17 – a mortal who would enter into rivalry with a god is inherently ἄφρων, the sentiment of which, applicable to the Partheneion as a whole, is best expressed at Hes. Op. 210 ἄφρων δ’ ὅϲ κ’ ἐθέληι πρὸϲ κρείϲϲοναϲ ἀντιφερίζειν. The poem pivots on these lines,18 and these lines pivot on ἔϲτι τιϲ ϲιῶν τίϲιϲ, which both looks back to and caps the myth and gnomic refl ection, and looks forward to what fol-lows, inextricably linking the two halves of the song and signalling the interdependence of the mythic and ritual narratives.

Correspondences between the chorus of the Partheneion and the Hippocoöntidae on the one hand, and Hagesichora and Agido and the Tyndaridae on the other have been noted before, e.g. Robbins 1994:11–14. In line 99 the chorus identify themselves as ten in number,19 corresponding to the ten sons of Hippocoön.20 Following this, the connection between Agido and Hagesichora and the two Tyndaridae becomes obvious. Agido and Hagesichora are, as is now generally recognised, primae inter pares;21 the comparisons between them, most notably at lines 50–9, are meant to signal not the inferiority of one to the other, but the superi-ority of both to anyone else, rank and fi le of the chorus included.22 And though the gulf between the two preeminent fi gures and the remaining chorus is great, there is no rivalry – the latter’s inferiority is avowed throughout.23

Perhaps we begin to see how the myth of the Hippocoöntidae set against the Tyndaridae is of relevance for the poem as a whole: the rival parties of the myth in the Partheneion are inscribed in the chorus and the two principal parties of the ceremony,24 but the precepts of the myth – a negative exemplum – have been heeded. ‘Unforgettably the sons of Hippocoön suffered, having plotted evil’; this is the immutable fate (Αἶϲα, line 13) due to any mortal who would seek the unattainable – to enter into rivalry with the gods, or

17 The sense is obviously ‘in wisdom’ vel sim. (thus West 1965:201 n. 3; Campbell ad loc.) rather than simply ‘happy’, despite Sem. fr. 7. 99 IEG2 εὔφρων ἡμέρην διέρχεται with Lloyd-Jones 1975 ad loc.

18 Thus rightly Fowler 1987:70.19 I here follow West 1965:200 in seeing ἕ ν δ ε κ α (for the reading see Hutchinson’s apparatus) as referring to the Sirens

(named in line 96). I however leave open the possibility that Hagesichora, who is explicitly the χοραγόϲ at line 44, might be an eleventh member of the chorus (on [χο]ροϲτάτιϲ at line 84 see Supplementary Note III). This does not however affect the contrast between Hagesichora-Agido and the remaining chorus, which is explicit throughout the poem. Trying to account for all the members of the chorus in lines 65–76 seems pointless, cf. West 1965:199 (particularly when taken to the extremes of Puelma 1977:38, followed by Robbins 1994:10–11, Too 1997:18). Nor is it likely that lines 96–100 refer to Hagesichora, since it is obviously she who is introduced with ἁ δ’ ἐπιμέρωι ξανθᾶι κομίϲκαι in line 101 (with West 1965:201–2; Hutchinson 2001 ad loc.; contra Calame ad loc.; Robbins 1994:10).

20 Not eleven, as seems to be a common view these days, e.g. Robbins 1994:11. See Page 1951:26–30, Hutchinson 2001:80–1 (on l. 2).

21 E.g. West 1965:179, who comments ‘[e]ach is pre-eminent and without a rival for as long as we look at her: we never look at both together. Alcman tactfully preserves the balance between the two.’

22 Cf. West 1965:196–7; Fowler 1987:71; Robbins 1994:8; Hutchinson 2001:86–90.23 Contra Robbins 1994:11–12, who sees an antagonistic relationship between Hagesichora and the chorus, and speaks of

her ‘overcoming’ the chorus much as the Tyndaridae had done the sons of Hippocoön.24 At line 52 the chorus refers to Hagesichora as τᾶϲ ἐμᾶϲ ἀνεψιᾶϲ, and we recall that Hippocoön and Tyndareus were

brothers, sons of Oebalus, thus making their children fi rst cousins, cf. Robbins 1994:12–13. This is surely the point of the word here, rather than imagining that some or all of the girls were related (thus Page 1951:67–8, amongst many others), or that it was simply a term of affection at Sparta (see e.g. West 1965:196).

Topics in Alcman’s Partheneion 27

seek a goddess in marriage. The refl ections of the chorus continue: ‘there is such a thing as the vengeance of the gods, and happy is the wise man who weaves out his day without tears’. No sooner has the chorus fi nished refl ecting on the lessons to be drawn from the myth than it asserts itself, and enacts the precepts of the myth, in the here and now of the ritual action: ἐγὼν δ’ ἀείδω / Ἀγιδῶϲ τὸ φῶϲ, ‘I sing the radiance of Agido’.25 The contrast is obvious: the Hippocoöntidae met their fate through striving against their superi-ors. The chorus, recognizing their inferiority, instead sing the praises of Agido and Hagesichora. The myth has served its function, and the ritual can now proceed.

The purpose of the strife between rival suitors in the myth, now resolved in accordance with the laws of Aisa and Poros, nevertheless has continuing resonance for the poem and the ritual it accompanies. The erotic undercurrent of the second half of the poem has long been noted: the beauty of Hagesichora and Agido, who in a classic erotic trope are compared to horses;26 the fi nery of the rank and fi le;27 perhaps Ainesimbrota, supposedly a purveyor of love-charms.28 Calame in particular has been successful in relat-ing these elements, which appear throughout Alcman’s Partheneia, to rites de passage.29 I certainly do not question the validity of this approach. However, I believe a further possibility can be suggested (and can co-exist with other interpretations) in light of the erotic and nuptial nature of the earlier myth. At Alcman fr. 3. 80–1 we fi nd the topos of the lover as suppliant:30

ἆϲ]ϲ ον [ἰο]ῖ ϲ’ ἁπαλᾶϲ χηρὸϲ λάβοι,αἶψα κ’ [ἐγὼν ἰ]κ έτιϲ κήναϲ γενοίμαν.

If she would approach, and take me by the soft hand, I would straight away become her suppliant.

I suggest that in the Louvre Partheneion we have the reverse situation: the suppliant as lover. We have seen that in the myth the sons of Hippocoön and Tyndareus were ἀντιμνηϲτῆρεϲ, and the object of their desire, though nowhere named, was obviously a goddess. In the second half of the poem this rivalry has been nul-lifi ed, but Agido, Hagesichora, and the chorus still have to propitiate a goddess, only now in concert: the chorus call upon the gods at lines 80–6 to accept the offering that Agido and Hagesichora appear to be making (see further Supplementary Note III). The eroticism of their role as suppliants is made explicit at 87–8 ἐγὼ[ν] δὲ τᾶι μὲν ’Αώτι μάλιϲτα / ϝανδάνην ἐρῶ. Commentators are silent here, but the verb ἐρῶ is carefully chosen.31 It most often implies strong sexual desire; with an infi nitive as here, it conveys intense yearning.32 In the fi rst instance this continues the erotic representation of the chorus, Agido, and Hagesi-chora seen throughout the poem. Furthermore, in the earlier myth it was ἔρωϲ for a goddess that set the Tyndaridae and Hippocoöntidae against each other, and led to the latter’s downfall. Here the cognate verb is used by the chorus towards another goddess, and the chorus, having turned their back on the strife and hybris represented by the Hippocoöntidae and instead having chosen to sing the praises of their superiors

25 Given the emphasis placed on physical beauty elsewhere in the poem, that is most likely the primary meaning here too (Puelma’s 1977:7–15 objection that φῶϲ used of physical beauty is not securely attested in the archaic period is inconclusive). However, given the wide range in meaning of light imagery when used of individuals in poetry, secondary meanings such as ‘deliverance’ (cf. Hutchinson 2001 ad loc.) are also likely. ‘The torch of Agido’ (e.g. Segal 1983:265; Clay 1991:54) is not.

26 The idea of a footrace should be abandoned (contra Bowra 1961:57–9; Calame ad loc.). For horse-racing as a metaphor for poetic competition see Dunkel 1979.

27 West 1965:199 notes that by seeming to belittle their appearance, the chorus is in fact drawing attention to their own beauty.

28 See Supplementary Note II below.29 Calame 1977. Other interpretations exist of course; the eroticism of the poem is thought perhaps to indicate an epi-

thalamium, cf. Griffi ths 1972, or perhaps is due to Aphrodite being the goddess celebrated, cf. Gentili 1976:62; Cyrino 2004.30 See in particular Davies 1986a. For issues regarding the join of the fragment here see Hutchinson 2001:111–12. Though

the exact positioning of one small piece is in doubt, the overall sense is not.31 It is certainly much more pregnant that the scholiast’s bland ἀρέϲκειν ἐπιθυμῶ, which Calame ad loc. lauds as ‘le sens

exact’.32 Cf. Ar. Ach. 146 with Olson ad loc.

28 A. Dale

and work in concert with them, will now succeed where the Hippocoöntidae failed. Once again we see the interrelatedness of the two halves of the poem, and how the understanding of each is mutually dependent.

The Peleiades

At lines 60–3 we encounter one of the most notorious cruces in Greek poetry:

ταὶ Πεληάδεϲ γὰρ ἇμινὀρθρίαι φᾶροϲ φεροίϲαιϲνύκτα δι’ ἀμβροϲίαν ἅτε Ϲήριονἄϲτρον ἀϝηρομέναι μαχόνται.

Every conceivable interpretation has been proposed, and some inconceivable ones. Are the Peleiades the star cluster?33 A rival chorus?34 Hagesichora and Agido?35 Hagesichora and Agido masquerading as doves?36 Is ὀρθρίαι dative singular or nominative plural? How do the Peleiades ‘rise’ like Sirius? How do they ‘fi ght against’ the chorus?

As West 1965:197 lucidly observes, the mention of Sirius in the same passage makes any interpreta-tion other than (primarily) the star cluster unlikely. West’s argument is, I would suggest, made more likely by ἀϝηρομέναι in line 60. If the text read ταὶ Πεληάδεϲ … ἅτε Ϲήριον ἄϲτρον ἀϝηρομένον μαχόνται, ‘The Peleiades fi ght against us like Sirius rising’, we would be more at liberty to see the Peleiades as some-thing other than the constellation, which are then said to fi ght like the star Sirius as it rises. However, as ἀϝηρομέναι is clearly in apposition to ταὶ Πεληάδεϲ, the resulting image when applied to Hagesichora and Agido approaches the absurd: they fi ght against the chorus as they rise through the sky like Sirius – the image does not make for good poetry, bird suit or not. The most obvious interpretation is, perhaps disap-pointingly to some, the correct one: the Peleiades are in fact the Pleiades.

But fi rst a few observations about the stars themselves are in order. Every interpretation of this passage has been at pains to establish the relevance of the Pleiades here: how can such a notoriously faint constellation37 be said to shine as bright as Sirius?38 How can Agido and Hagesichora have their beauty compared to such feeble stars?

It is well known that only six stars in this cluster are readily visible with the naked eye.39 And indeed in most cultures their number is consistently six, from Mesoamerica to India to Japan.40 In Greece, the katasterized daughters of Atlas and Pleione are seven in number, and thus the constellation contained seven stars. This discrepancy between the seven Pleiades and the fact that only six stars were visible (which the ancients were well aware of) caused some consternation: Aratus 257–8 ἑπτάποροι δὴ ταί γε μετ’ ἀνθρώπουϲ ὑδέονται, / ἓξ οἶαι περ ἐοῦϲαι ἐπόψιαι ὀφθαλμοῖϲιν, Ovid Fasti 4. 170 quae septem dici sex tamen esse solent. Mythologies were created to account for the discrepancy: vexed by her marriage to the mortal Sisyphus, Merope shines less bright; Electra has left the group after her son Dardanus’ city fell to the Achaeans.41 We do however fi nd one other ancient culture where the number of the constellation was

33 E.g. Burnett 1964; West 1965:197; Hutchinson 2001:90–3.34 E.g. Page 1951:52–7; Rosenmeyer 1966.35 E.g. Segal 1983; Robbins 1994.36 E.g. the scholia, Wilamowitz 1897; Bowra 1961:56; Too 1997:19.37 As West 1965:197 says, ‘[o]f all the stars or star-groups that Alcman could have named, the Pleiades are the faintest’.38 E.g. Davison 1938:449; Priestley 2007:191–2; Ferrari 2008:84.39 Cf. West 1965:197; Puhvel 2001:152.40 Puhvel 2001:152, who (inter alia) compares the logo of the Japanese carmaker Subaru (= Pleiades), which has six stars.41 Merope at Hellanicus 4 F 19 FGrHist; Electra at Σ Arat. 257, Σ A Il. 18. 486; both at Ovid Fasti 4. 175–8. For the mythi-

cal Pleiades see West 1985:94–99; Gantz 1993:212–18.

Topics in Alcman’s Partheneion 29

seven rather than six, the Hittites of second millennium Anatolia.42 While this correspondence alone is not enough to argue for a connection, it is intriguing that two cultures which were geographically contiguous and in close contact for some hundreds of years should share this counter-factual numbering of the Pleia-des. We will have more to say in a moment.

The Peleiades in Alcman are climbing43 through the sky like Sirius.44 For adherents of the Hagesi-chora-Agido = Pleiades hypothesis, Sirius suggests – can only suggest – brilliance.45 For those who see a harvest festival behind the Partheneion, the comparison signifi es the heliacal rising of the Pleiades.46 Fol-lowing this interpretation Alcman’s Pleiades are, like Marvell’s glow-worms, ‘shining unto no higher end than to presage the grasses fall’. Pretty much every hypothesis is still at pains to explain μαχόνται. The overriding associations of Sirius however were those of a baleful star, a harbinger of evil.47 Sirius marked the beginning of summer, a harsh time as Alcaeus reminds us: ἀ δ’ ὤρα χαλέπα, πάντα δὲ δίψαιϲ’ ὐπὰ καύματοϲ. The star burns and fl ames through the dog days of summer, scorching men’s heads and knees, leaving them at their weakest.48 Aristaeus offers a pre-dawn sacrifi ce of a goat to Sirius on Ceos, a chthonic sacrifi ce, to avert its baleful effects.49 Just as the association of the Pleiades and Sirius in this passage makes it most likely that the former signify the stars themselves, so the overall passage ταὶ Πεληάδεϲ … ἅτε Ϲήριον ἄϲτρον ἀϝηρομέναι μαχόνται makes it most likely that the Pleiades are considered to be men-acing the chorus. This is after all the most obvious and natural interpretation of the passage, but has seldom been favoured because no one could see how the Pleiades could be described as evil.50

We noticed above that Greek shares with Hittite the rare cultural isogloss of seven Pleiades in place of the visible six. The Hittite tradition reveals a further point of interest: for them, the Pleiades are menacing. One Hittite text describes them as ḫūwappaēš, ‘evil Pleiades’.51 Another text records a propitiatory offe-ring: kaša šumaš DIMIN.IMIN-PÍ-aš SISKUR.SISKUR piuen nu – za ezzatin ekuttin hadugaēs – ma – kan DIMIN.IMIN-PÍ-eš, ‘lo, to you Pleiades we have given an offering, eat (and) drink, baleful Pleiades’.52 In Hittite cult the Pleiades are often associated with the plague god Iyarri, just as in Babylonian mythology they are associated with Nergal.53 In another Hittite text, which records a bread offering to various deities and natural phenomena, the Pleiades are followed by Fear and Fright (Nahšaratti and Waritemi).54 The

42 Puhvel 2001:154, who notes that though the name in Hittite texts is written with the Sumerogram DIMIN.IMIN, the restriction of this designation of the Pleiades to Hittite texts suggests that it is a feature of Hittite rather than Mesopotamian culture.

43 Note West 1965:197 n. 1, pointing out that ‘ἀνατέλλω means “rise” in the sense of “appear about the horizon”, αἴρομαι means “climb up the sky’”.

44 The view that ἅτε Ϲήριον ἄϲτρον is to be taken with ἇμιν … φᾶροϲ φεροίϲαιϲ is extremely forced and highly implau-sible, despite having notable adherents such as West 1965:197, who is forced to this position because, as he sees it, there is no sense comparing the Pleiades (dim) to Sirius (bright). West 1970:205 goes even further, saying that the Pleiades correspond to the chorus, and Sirius to a girl who far outshines them, proposing also to emend ἅτε to τό τε. Priestley 2007 construes φᾶροϲ ἅτε Ϲήριον ἄϲτρον, ‘a robe like the star Sirius’, the syntax of which leaves much to be desired, despite her efforts to demon-strate otherwise (nor does the recurrence of Il. 6. 294–5 as Od. 15. 108–9 suggest that the comparison of robes to stars ‘was formulaic’, as Priestley argues at pp. 182–3).

45 Segal 1983:266; Robbins 1994:9.46 Davison 1938:449–50; Burnett 1964. Further problems are caused for those who on the grounds of a harvest festival

see the φᾶροϲ of line 61 as a plough, since it was the cosmical setting of the Pleiades, not their heliacal rising (which we are supposed to have here) that brings with it the ploughing season; see Hes. Op. 383–4 and 615–17 with West ad loc.

47 This has of course been noted by many commentators, such as Rosenmeyer 1966:343.48 Alc. fr. 347 Voigt; Hes. Op. 587.49 Theoph. De ventis 14; Heraclides fr. 141 Wehrli; Call. fr. 75. 32 Pf.; Ap. Rhod. 2. 516–27 with Σ. See Burkert 1983:109–11.50 Davison 1938:450 to his credit saw that ‘the simile of Sirius may well imply that the Pleiads are thought of as being

somehow baleful’. See also Bowra 1961:59–60.51 Puhvel 2001:154. The text is KUB XLVI 54 Vs. 11.52 Puhvel 2001:154; KBo XVII 105 III 30–31. The propitiation of the Pleiades here is reminiscent of Aristaeus’ chthonic

sacrifi ce to Sirius.53 Puhvel 2001:154.54 Puhvel 2001:155. The text is KBo XIII 245 Rs. 3–20. Puhvel draws the obvious parallel with Greek Deimos and Phobos.

30 A. Dale

most common offering to the Pleiades in Hittite was a goat, recalling the goat sacrifi ced by Aristaeus to the star Sirius.55

We thus have two points of contact between the Greek tradition as represented by Alcman and the Hit-tite tradition: seven Pleiades for the visible six, and both are menacing – in Hittite ḫūwappaēš, hadugaēs, ‘evil, baleful’, while in Alcman they fi ght (μαχόνται)56 and climb up the sky like the baleful Sirius (ἅτε Ϲήριον ἄϲτρον ἀϝηρομέναι). One correspondence could be put down to chance; two are not so easily ignored. If we are willing to allow that Hittite concepts might have exerted an infl uence on Greek in this instance,57 then we need look no further, and can abandon the plethora of tortured interpretations for why the Pleiades are said to rise like Sirius in the Partheneion: they, like Sirius, were considered menacing or evil.

If the Pleiades are indeed baleful, and in a hostile relationship to the chorus, what resonance does this have for the poem overall? A scholion on Theocritus (Σ Theoc. 13. 25a Wendel) tells us that according to Callimachus (fr. 693 Pf.) the Pleiades, addressed as Peleiades, were the daughters of an Amazonian queen, and were the fi rst to establish choruses and παννυχίϲ festivals for young girls: φηϲὶ Καλλίμαχοϲ ὅτι τῆϲ βαϲιλίϲϲηϲ τῶν ’Αμαζόνων ἦϲαν θυγατέρεϲ αἱ Πλειάδεϲ, αἳ Πελειάδεϲ προϲηγορεύθηϲαν. πρῶτον δ’ αὗται χορείαν καὶ παννυχίδα ϲυνεϲτήϲαντο παρθενεύουϲαι. Callimachus in typical fashion differs from the standard genealogy that makes the Pleiades the daughters of Pleione.58 The aetiological myth in Cal-limachus is unlikely to be new to him: the Pleiades were often described as ‘dancing’,59 which would natu-rally lead to an association between their mythical namesakes and girls’ choruses. Particularly noteworthy is the statement that the Πλειάδεϲ were called or addressed as Πελειάδεϲ.60 Though it would be going too far to argue the case with any conviction, we can entertain the possibility that the aetiology might have stood somewhere in Alcman.61 First of all, given his reputation in antiquity as the composer of Partheneia par excellence, a reputation which is borne out by his fragments, such a myth would not have been out of place. Secondly, we fi nd the motif of the πρῶτοϲ εὑρετήϲ elsewhere in Alcman in relation to poetry at fr. 4, which seems to concern Terpander.62 Lastly, Callimachus himself might point back to Alcman: we do not know what work fr. 693 comes from,63 but in one of his lyric poems, fr. 227 Pf., Callimachus reenacts a παννυχίϲ – thus sung (or represented as being sung) by a choir of παρθένοι – that seems to specifi cally

55 Puhvel 2001:154–5; Burkert 1983:109–11.56 μαχόνται has long caused more trouble than it need do. A particularly useful corrective is Dunkel 1979, who adduces

many parallels from Homer and the Rig Veda for the martial and agonistic imagery we have here.57 This is not the place to try to convince otherwise those who remain sceptical about Hittite / Luwian and Greek cultural

interaction; the bibliography on the subject is growing exponentially. For the archaeological evidence see e.g. Niemeier 2005. Cultural, literary, religious, and linguistic correspondences and infl uence have been notably pioneered by Calvert Watkins and Jaan Puhvel; one can single out Watkins 1995 and 2007 and the essays accompanying Puhvel 2001. See also Bachvarova 2002 and 2005, Collins et al. 2008, Rutherford, Forthcoming, Teffeteller, Forthcoming. – A further intriguing possibility is the ancient tradition that makes Alcman a Lydian (fi rst attested in Aristotle, TA 1a PMGF, other testimonia collected at TA 1–9 PMGF. See also Calame 1975; the discussion in Page 1951:167–70 is obsolete). While I am inclined to regard this as yet another example of pseudo-biography based on references to Lydia in Alcman’s text (fr. 16 in particular), were the tradition to be accepted it would make Anatolian elements in Alcman that much more likely (Lydian was a member of the Anatolian branch of languages, related to Hittite and Luwian, and the historical state of Lydia occupied territory that in the Bronze Age had been a vassal kingdom of the Hittites).

58 We note that the scholiast is silent on their paternity, probably because it was unchanged from Atlas in Callimachus. Perhaps Callimachus’ reason for changing their maternity was to reject the popular etymology Πλειάδεϲ < πολύϲ / πλείων, ‘many’, or πλέοϲ, ‘full’, which seems to lie behind Pleione.

59 E.g. Eur. Elec. 467–8 ἄϲτρων τ’ αἰθέριοι χοροί, / Πλειάδεϲ, Ὑάδεϲ; Hor. Carm. 4. 14. 21.60 Usually meaning doves or pigeons; also used of priestesses at Dodona. See West on Hes. Op. 383–4.61 That they established maiden choruses and παννυχίδεϲ; the Amazonian queen, as I suggested, seems to be a Callima-

chean innovation.62 See Davies 1986b. At issue is whether to accept the reading νεόχμ’ ἔδειξαν Τέρπ [ανδροϲ at 4 fr. 1. 6 PMGF.63 Pfeiffer holds his silence. D’Alessio 2001 on fr. 693 (vol. 2, p. 777) suggests it might come from one of Callimachus’

grammatical works.

Topics in Alcman’s Partheneion 31

evoke Alcman.64 Yet whether Callimachus found this myth in Alcman or not, it is highly likely that the association of the Pleiades with choruses of παρθένοι is to be seen in lines 60–3.

A picture begins to emerge: the seven baleful Pleiades are climbing up the sky as the chorus sing, ris-ing like the sinister Sirius. There is no rival chorus, nor are Agido and Hagesichora, baleful/beautiful like Sirius, fl uttering above the ground. The ceremony takes place at night, and the Pleiades are overhead. It is always worth remembering that to the archaic Greeks religion and mythological tradition were something real and deeply felt. To what degree of conscious articulation we cannot say, but when Alcman and his contemporaries in seventh-century Sparta looked up at the night sky and saw the Pleiades, they saw not only a constellation of six stars, but also the seven daughters of Atlas, the baleful yet dancing Pleiades, the (perhaps) πρῶτοι εὑρεταί of the dances and ceremonies that they were engaged in on the night when the Partheneion was actually sung and danced by Agido, Hagesichora, and the rest of the chorus.

And thus we arrive at the true meaning of the passage: the Peleiades, the stars, are in the sky, and fur-thermore they are at the same time the archetypal maiden chorus.65 The second half of the poem pivots on these four lines. In passages of increasing emphasis the supremacy of Agido and Hagesichora has been revealed, building to lines 58–9:

ἁ δὲ δευτέρα πεδ’ Ἀγιδὼ τὸ ϝεῖδοϲἵπποϲ ’Ιβηνῶι Κολαξαῖοϲ δραμήται

She who is second in beauty to Agido will race as a Kolaxian steed to an Ibenian.

Agido and Hagesichora are preeminent in every respect, and whoever comes second to either of them will be left in the dust.66 Now follows the proof: for the Peleiades themselves, rising balefully through the night like Sirius fi ght against us as we bear the robe to the goddess of the dawn.67 The chorus alone is not enough to overcome the Peleiades, sinister constellation and archetypal maiden choir at the same time. All of their gold and Lydian fi nery, their tresses and good looks, are of no avail;68 Hagesichora is what they need.69 And with her, and Agido, they can achieve their desire: the offering to the goddess is made, their greatest desire is now (or has begun to be) fulfi lled (87–8), Hagesichora brings them peace (90–1). The precepts of the myth are still felt: the chorus are mortals, young girls who can but screech from the rafters (85–7); with Hagesichora and Agido however they can accomplish their task, and even the Pleiades themselves are no rival for them.

In conclusion, we can observe the following points. The myth of the Hippocoöntidae does indeed mirror the ritual action of the poem; the precept of the myth is enacted by the chorus, who unlike the Tyndaridae do not enter into rivalry with their superiors Hagesichora and Agido, but rather work in harmony with them in a ritual offering which in its erotic description evokes the erotic and nuptial underpinnings of the myth. Following upon this, the meaning of lines 60–3 comes into clearer focus. It is the supremacy of Hagesicho-ra and Agido which enables the chorus to face down the threat represented by the Pleiades, an inherently baleful constellation which also represents the archetypal maiden chorus.

64 Note in particular Call. fr. 227. 8 ὦ Κάϲτορ [            ] καὶ ϲὺ Πωλύδ[ευκεϲ, which when combined with either of the supplements in Maas 1957 (ἵππων δμήτορεϲ or ἱππόται ϲοφοί) yields a schema Alcmanicum.

65 Clay 1991:61 comes close to the position here, though draws different conclusions.66 Here Ἀγιδώ is accusative, and the point is that whoever is second to Agido (and thus second to Hagesichora as well) will

be a distant second. For the equine comparison see West 1965:196–7, who is right in saying that the Kolaxian is greatly infe-rior to the Ibenian. See also Campbell 1987:69–71, who defends this interpretation (the most straightforward) from its many assailants (although we should widen the sphere of reference from ‘any other member of the chorus’ to ‘anyone at all, chorus included’). Hansen 1993 emends Ἰβηνῶι to εἰβήνοιϲ, resulting in Agido running around with ‘mongrels of dogs and foxes’.

67 γάρ in line 60, which has caused problems for some, is explanatory, providing support for the assertion of Hagesichora and Agido’s pre-eminence in 58–9: ‘whoever is second to Agido will be a distant second, for the Pleiades themselves …’

68 The daughters of Atlas were noted for their beauty, cf. Sim. fr. 555. 4–5 PMG τάνδ’ ἔξοχον εἶδοϲ, ⟨ὅϲ⟩αι καλέονται / Πελειάδεϲ οὐράνιαι of Maia.

69 See also Supplementary Note II.

32 A. Dale

The Pleiades are in the sky, but not rising or setting in the strict sense (cf. n. 43 above); we need not abandon the possibility that we have a harvest festival, but there is nothing in the text to support the idea. The poem is a παννυχίϲ,70 and is in honour of a ‘goddess of the dawn’. As to the identity of the goddess, we are unlikely to arrive at any conclusive answer without new evidence. We are continuously told that ὄρθρια cannot be a form of Artemis Ortheia for linguistic reasons.71 Given the multitude of alternate spellings of Ortheia unearthed by Dawkins,72 and that as great a linguist as Julius Pokorny had no problem listing ὀρθόϲ (which Ortheia is commonly supposed to derive from) and ὄρθροϲ, ὄρθριοϲ as derivatives of the same PIE root Verdh-, Vredh-,73 any dogmatic refutation of the equation seems perilous. At the same time, following the analysis presented here, Garvie’s suggestion of the Leucippidae is also attractive,74 except for the lack of any secure evidence for either Phoebe or Hilaeira having any association with a dawn goddess.75 However, given how very little we know about early Laconian cult, we should not be too quick to categori-cally dismiss any possibility due to lack of evidence.

Supplementary Notes

I

16–21μή τιϲ ἀνθ]ρώπων ἐϲ ὠρανὸν ποτήϲθω    μηδὲ πη]ρήτω γαμῆν τὰν Ἀφροδίταν    ϝ]άν[α]ϲϲαν ἤ τιν’      ] ἢ παίδα Πόρκω  Χά]ριτεϲ δὲ ∆ιὸϲ δ[ό]μον      ]ϲιν ἐρογλεφάροι

The general sense of the passage is reasonably clear: man must not seek to gain access to heaven, or seek a goddess in marriage; … only the Graces […] the halls of Zeus.76 The relevance of lines 20–1 must be that the Graces, goddesses unlike the Hippocoöntidae who are mere mortals, can enter or have access to heaven. Α standard exempli gratia supplement for line 21 is Blass’ ἐϲβαίνοι]ϲιν.77 Page 1951:41 objected to so ‘feeble’ an image, suggesting instead that the Graces were said to protect or watch over the halls of Zeus, and proposed ἀμφιέπουϲιν or the like.78 However, given the image of physical ascent to heaven in μή τιϲ ἀνθ]ρώπων ἐϲ ὠρανὸν ποτήϲθω, perhaps Blass was on the right track. Furthermore, given the nuptial and erotic nature of the preceding lines (and the myth as a whole), there might be an erotic element to the Graces entering the house of Zeus here as well.

Watkins 2007 has thoroughly examined the uses of the compound εἰϲαναβαίνω and its semantic equivalent εἰϲάνειμι, ‘go up into’ in epic and lyric poetry. He notes that the verb often has one of two goals: the fi rst is ‘heaven’, often used of Helios or Eos ascending up into the sky:

70 Probably attested elsewhere in Alcman at fr. 56 PMGF, where we fi nd a πολύφανοϲ ἑορτά. On παννυχίδεϲ generally see Bravo 1997.

71 E.g. Page 1951:81; Segal 1983:262; Robbins 1994:9 n. 13.72 See Dawkins 1929:417 s.v. Ὀρθεία; Page 1951:77; Risch 1954:29 n. 41; Chantraine, DELG s.v. ὀρθόϲ.73 Pokorny 1959–69:1167 s.v. Verdh-.74 Followed by Robbins 1994:13–14, although his suggestion that the myth concentrated on Polydeuces and Phoebe to the

exclusion of Castor and Hilaeira seems unlikely.75 Garvie 1965:187 notes that if Leucippus is to be identifi ed with Helios, as some have sought to do, then the title Aotis

for Phoebe would be appropriate. This however seems a bit of a stretch.76 Whether ἀπ]έδιλοϲ ἀλκά in line 15 is to be taken with ἀνθ]ρώπων or not is unclear; see the discussion at Campbell

1987:67–9.77 Not εἰϲβαίνου]ϲιν as reported in Page 1951:41.78 Note however Campbell 1967 ad loc., who points out that this role for the Graces is nowhere else attested.

Topics in Alcman’s Partheneion 33

Il. 7. 421–3Ἠέλιοϲ …ἐξ … βαθυρρόου Ὠκεανοῖοοὐρανὸν εἰϲανιών

Hes. Theog. 760–1Ἠέλιοϲ . . .οὐρανὸν εἰϲανιών

Mimnermus fr. 12. 3–4 IEG2

ἐπὴν ῥοδοδάκτυλοϲ ἨώϲὨκεανὸν προλιποῦϲ’ οὐρανὸν εἰϲαναβῆι

Secondly, it is often used in an erotic context, always with a female subject, of a woman climbing up into a bed or bed-chamber:

Il. 8. 291ἠὲ γυναῖχ’ ἡ κέν τοι ὁμὸν λέχοϲ εἰϲαναβαίνοι

Il. 2. 514ὑπερώϊον εἰϲαναβᾶϲα

Watkins notes that all the examples of εἰϲαναβαίνω and εἰϲάνειμι with λέχοϲ in Homer and Hesiod have either a literal or implied sexual meaning. I suggest that in this passage in Alcman we fi nd a convergence of these two meanings of divine ascent to heaven and sexually charged ascent to a bed: the Charites (alone are able to) go up into the house of Zeus, an act which in the present context has decided erotic undertones:

        Χά]ριτεϲ δὲ ∆ιὸϲ δ[ό]μονεἰϲανία]ϲιν ἐρογλεφάροι·

Caveat: εἰϲ does not occur in the fragments of Alcman; ἐϲ occurs thrice (twice in this poem, at lines 16 and 73, and at fr. 174), in each place guaranteed by metre.79 This is not a fatal fl aw to the suggestion here proposed, as 1) various West-Greek dialects attest both ἐνϲ and εἰϲ, and more to the point 2) Alcman’s dialect is by no means pure Laconian,80 but rather the literary ‘Doric’ of choral lyric with a fair number of Aeolic and epic elements; Alcman might well have allowed the lengthened form in compounds such as this to avoid a tribrach – Pindar allows both forms metri gratia.

II

73–7οὐδ’ ἐϲ Αἰνηϲιμβρ[ό]ταϲ ἐνθοῖϲα φαϲεῖϲἈϲταφίϲ [τ]έ μοι γένοιτοκαὶ ποτιγλέποι Φίλυλλα∆αμαρ[έ]τα τ’ ἐρατά τε Ϝιανθεμίϲἀλλ’ Ἁγηϲιχόρα με τείρει·

Who is Ainesimbrota? Page’s suggestion, that she was the ‘keeper of a training-school for choir-maidens’, held the fi eld for some time.81 West then came up with the alluring notion that she was the purveyor of love

79 See Hinge 2006:213–14.80 The discussion in Page 1951:102 –63 is obsolete; see Risch 1954, Cassio 2007. Much useful information in Hinge 2006,

although his ultimate thesis, that Alcman composed in epic-Ionic and that the Laconian dialect veneer that we see in our texts is due to continuous reperformance and adaptation down until the Hellenistic period, might be somewhat overstated.

81 Page 1951:65–6.

34 A. Dale

charms, someone ‘to whom you would say “I long for Astaphis …”’ etc; a suggestion that has won wide support.82 West’s principal objection to Page’s analysis is that there is something verging on the indecent in imagining someone ‘knock[ing] at the door of a dancing-school and say[ing] “Please may Philulla fall in love with me?”’

In the rush to endorse West’s suggestion one point has been lost, namely that Ainesimbrota (lit. ‘praiser of men’) is ideally suited to someone connected with choruses and song rather than love potions. It seems that Page was essentially on the right track, though we might wish to correct or refi ne his position some-what: Ainesimbrota is not a ‘dancing-mistress’, but a poet. And, though not wishing to beat a dead meta-phor, we might add that in the context of this poem and Alcman’s Partheneia generally there is nothing inappropriate in the eroticism of these lines interpreted thus.83 No sooner had the chorus asserted itself at line 39 than it began to describe itself and its constituents in terms of their own physical beauty or the beau-ty of their accoutrements, and this has essentially been continued up to the present lines. The introduction of the ‘house of Ainesimbrota’ is the direct culmination of lines 64–72 (occupying one complete strophe), in which we are told of the insuffi ciency of the chorus itself. Neither purple nor gold, nor Nanno’s locks nor Areta’s beauty are suffi cient to face down the baleful archetypal chorus represented by the Pleiades. Nor in such circumstances, when what you need is a good chorus, would you go to Ainesimbrota’s and say ‘I long for Astaphis’, or ‘if only Philylla would look at me’. Instead, you would say ‘it is Hagesichora who torments me’ (φαϲεῖϲ “Ἁγηϲιχόρα με τείρει”84) – and perhaps by implication you would not go to Ainesimbrota’s at all, but instead to Alcman. The merits of the chorus are once again being described in erotic terms, and in the erotic landscape of the poem these lines simply mean ‘neither x nor y is suffi cient; only Hagesichora will do’.

But why a poet, and not simply a χοροδιδάϲκαλοϲ? First of all, her name is much more suited to one who is actually involved in composing songs of praise, rather than one whose sole duty is to whip the chorus into shape.85 Furthermore, the evidence we have suggests that more often than not poet and χοροδιδάϲκαλοϲ were one and the same person. In Alcman’s own case this is likely confi rmed by TA 2. 25–37 PMGF, a papyrus commentary that tells us explicitly that Alcman instructed the choruses himself: ὡϲ Λακεδα[ι]μόνιοι τότ [ε] | ἐπέϲτηϲαν Λυδὸν ὄντα διδάϲκαλον τῶν θυγατέ|ρων καὶ ἐφή[βω]ν πατρίο[ιϲ] | χοροίϲ.86 In one celebrated passage we seem to fi nd Alcman himself speaking, fr. 26:

οὔ μ’ ἔτι, παρϲενικαὶ μελιγάρυεϲ ἱαρόφωνοι,γυῖα φέρην δύναται· βάλε δὴ βάλε κηρύλοϲ εἴην,ὃϲ τ’ ἐπὶ κύματοϲ ἄνθοϲ ἄμ’ ἀλκυόνεϲϲι ποτήταινηδεὲϲ ἦτορ ἔχων, ἁλιπόρφυροϲ ἱαρὸϲ ὄρνιϲ.

No longer, honey-singing heavenly-voiced maidens, are my limbs able to carry me. Would that I were a kingfi s-her, who soars above the wave’s plume with the halcyons, strong of heart, a sea-purple sacred bird.

82 West 1965:199–200, followed by Puelma 1977:40 with n. 73; Segal 1983:273 with n. 40; Robbins 1994:11 n. 25.83 The interaction of chorus members is if anything even more overtly erotic in the ‘Second Partheneion’, fr. 3 PMGF.84 I follow West in construing the lines thus, and taking this as direct speech (‘you would not say Astaphis … or Philylla

… you would say Hagesichora …’), which is much more organic and in keeping with the overall tenor of the poem than the persistently recurring interpretation ‘Hagesichora wears me out’ through making me dance, e.g. Clay 1991:57; Hutchinson 2001 ad loc.

85 We need not imagine that Ainesimbrota was a real person; there is much to suggest that many, if not all, the names we fi nd in Alcman’s Partheneia were ad hoc inventions, speaking names suitable to their roles. Agido, ‘of the Agiad family’; Hagesichora, ‘chorus leader’ (cf. χοραγόϲ at line 44); Astymeloisa, ‘she who cares for the city’ in fr. 3. Ainesimbrota is simply another stock fi gure in the world of the Partheneia.

86 It might be objected that the commentator is making a point about the xenophobic Spartans: ‘the Lacedaemonians put a Lydian (!) in charge of their ancestral choruses’. Yet the emphasis on διδάϲκαλοϲ (cf. also line 37 of the same commentary), rather than simply ποιητήϲ, suggests that this was something readily discernable in Alcman’s text. It also implies that the dual role of poet and χοροδιδάϲκαλοϲ was readily assumed by the commentator.

Topics in Alcman’s Partheneion 35

Antigonus of Carystus, who quotes these lines, interpreted them as meaning that Alcman could no longer follow the movements of the chorus.87 For the sense we might compare lines 5–6 of the New Sappho (P.Köln 21351+21376):

βάρυϲ δέ μ’ ὀ [θ]ῦμο ϲ πεπόηται, γόνα δ’ [ο]ὐ φέροιϲι,τὰ δή ποτα λαίψηρ’ ἔον ὄρχηϲθ’ ἴϲα νεβρίοιϲι.

My heart has grown heavy, my knees do not carry me, which once were light for the dance as fawns.

Though we might want to resist too close a biographical reading, that fr. 26 was spoken by – or at least represents – Alcman himself seems likely enough. The metre, stichic hexameters, suggests that it might be from a rhapsodic προοίμιον to a Partheneion;88 we fi nd a close parallel for this in the fourth-century BC Paean of Isyllus from Epidaurus (pp. 132–6 CA), a lyric poem that is prefaced by a hexameter προοίμιον. Whether Alcman was in fact no longer able to keep up with the chorus when these lines were sung we do not know, but they do suggest that the role envisaged for him here is that of χοροδιδάϲκαλοϲ.

Nor should we fi nd anything strange in a female poet in seventh-century Sparta, whether real or not. Lesbos had Sappho, and Tanagra Corinna – why not an Ainesimbrota at Sparta? It is evident that Alcman found the idea perfectly natural.

III

78–91οὐ γὰρ ἁ κ[α]λλίϲφυροϲἉγηϲιχ[ό]ρ[α] πάρ’ αὐτεῖ, Ἀγιδοῖ δ ὲ π αρμένειθωϲτήρ[ιά τ’] ἅμ’ ἐπαινεῖ.ἀλλὰ τᾶν [ ̣ ̣ ] ̣ ̣ ̣ ϲιοὶδέξαϲθε· [ϲι]ῶν γὰρ ἄνακαὶ τέλοϲ· [ ̣ ̣ ] ̣ ̣ ϲτάτιϲ,ϝείποιμί κ’, [ἐ]γῶν μὲν αὐτὰπαρϲένοϲ μάταν ἀπὸ θράνω λέλακαγλαύξ· ἐγῶ[ν] δὲ τᾶι μὲν Ἀώτι μάλιϲταϝανδάνην ἐρῶ· πόνων γὰρἇμιν ἰάτωρ ἔγεντο·ἐξ Ἁγηϲιχόρ[αϲ] δὲ νεάνιδεϲἰρ]ήναϲ ἐρατ[ᾶ]ϲ ἐπέβαν.

82 [εὐχ]ά ϲ Blass λ ί τ α ϲ Hutchinson 84 [χο]ροϲτάτιϲ Blass

Deixis is omnipresent throughout the poem, and the audience saw the actions of the chorus and leaders in addition to hearing the words that we can only read; they do not need to be told that Hagesichora is not with the chorus but is instead standing by Agido commending the festivities. Thus we should punctuate ἐπαινεῖ; as a question.89 The rhetorical question follows naturally after the preceding stanza: ‘it is Hagesichora who torments me’, i.e. Hagesichora alone is what the chorus wants and needs – ‘and indeed is she not here with

87 Mirab. 23 = Ps.-Antigonus fr. 54B Dorandi, φηϲὶ [sc. Alcman] γὰρ ἀϲθενὴϲ ὢν διὰ τὸ γῆραϲ καὶ τοῖϲ χοροῖϲ οὐ δυνάμενοϲ ϲυμπεριφέρεϲθαι οὐδὲ τῆι τῶν παρθένων ὀρχήϲει.

88 Thus Campbell 1967 ad loc.; for a full discussion of the fragment see Vestrheim 2004. Alcman’s hexameter προοίμια were presumably arranged in a book separate from those containing the Partheneia in the Alexandrian edition.

89 First interpreted as a question by Blass 1878, and printed thus in Page 1951 and Campbell 1988; PMG, PMGF, and Hutchinson 2001 punctuate as a statement.

36 A. Dale

us?’ (Here in the general sense, tonight and taking part in the ceremony, rather than ‘she is not here, but just over there’). ‘Does she not stand by Agido praising the festivities?’ 90

Blass’ supplement [χο]ροϲτάτιϲ, though generally accepted, has been the cause of some unease (cf. Hutchinson 2001 ad loc.); the feminine form occurs only here, and χοροϲτάτηϲ does not occur in inscrip-tions before the fourth century BC, in literature not before the second century AD. Furthermore, the address – nominative for vocative – to the ‘chorus-leader’ (Hagesichora) would be without example elsewhere in the poem. The usual interpretation, in which ϝείποιμί κ’ is assumed to introduce the following statement, has little to recommend it: ‘chorus-leader, I would speak so [or ‘if I may speak’, etc.]: I am but a maid screeching from the rafters … but Hagesichora brings peace to young girls’.91 A particularly unfortunate consequence of this reading is the change from the direct address in [χο]ροϲτάτιϲ to the third person ἐξ Ἁγηϲιχόρ[αϲ] δὲ νεάνιδεϲ ἰρ]ήναϲ ἐρατ[ᾶ]ϲ ἐπέβαν.92 The passage would be greatly improved by not having any address to Hagesichora, and thus we are glad to read in Hutchinson 2001:97 that [χο]ροϲτάτιϲ seems incompatible with the traces. I should think that the most likely reading here is παραϲτάτιϲ, descriptive of the chorus and taken with ϝείποιμί κ’ (without punctuation between the two): ‘as a helper I should speak’.93 Furthermore, at Pol. 1277a12 Aristotle obligingly uses παραϲτάτηϲ of a subordinate member in a chorus, in opposition to the κορυφαῖοϲ, which is the exact sense required here. The end result would be a further indicator of the chorus’ subordination to Hagesichora and Agido: ‘Would that I, an attendant, could speak; but I am merely a girl, an owl vainly screeching from the rafters, and my greatest desire is to please Aotis, for she is the healer of our pains;94 and it is through Hagesichora that young girls have set foot on the path of peace.’ The ‘speaking’ that the chorus envisages here is not prospective, announcing what it then says, but rather looks back to the prayers of Hagesichora and Agido at line 82, which the chorus commends to the gods. The chorus expresses the wish that it might join with the two leaders in offering prayers to the gods – yet they do not, being mere girls who liken their singing to the shrieking of owls. They can but sing, while it is Hagesichora (90–1) who through voicing the prayer brings peace.

The image established here, that of subordinate and superior, παραϲτάτιϲ and κορυφαῖοϲ, is then developed in the following lines, 92–5:

τῶ]ι τε γὰρ ϲηρα φ ό ρωια [ὐ]τῶϲ εδ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ΄ ̣τῶ ι κυβερνάται δὲ χρ ήκἠ ν νᾶϊ μάλι ϲ τ ’ ἀ κ ο ύ η ν

The subordinate members of the chorus – the rank and fi le – must follow the chorus leader, just as a chariot team yields to the trace-horse, and rowers obey the helmsman of a ship. As in so many other passages in the poem, the distance between the chorus and its leader(s) is emphasised.

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90 A point that Puelma 1977:41–2 saw clearly: ‘Denn (sc. ihr seht, dass es stimmt) steht nicht diese schöne Hagesichora gerade vor uns, Seite an Seite neben Agido?’

91 Thus the translations in e.g. Page 1951:22; West 1965:201 and 1993:32; Campbell 1988:367–9.92 Campbell 1967 ad loc. rightly notes that this, and not ἐγῶ[ν] δὲ τᾶι μὲν Ἀώτι in line 87 is the true answer to [ἐ]γῶν μὲν

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Alexander Dale, Londonalexander.dale@keble.oxon.org