NOTES

CHAPTER 1

1. “Stephanitic” means that the prizes were probably vegetal crowns rather than money. Prestige indeed would be the reason for cities to send their citizens to such games.

2. The full account is given in I.v. Magnesia 16. There are some controversies over whether the games of 221 had monetary or stephanitic prizes and over whether they were advertised only locally to Greeks in Asia. These issues are discussed more thoroughly, with accompanying bibliography, in Chapter Six.

3. The response is recorded in I.v. Magnesia 35.

4. This Cephalus appears on the Cephallenians’ coins. See Rigsby 1996: 213.

5. For example, a sarcastic comment by Demosthenes is recorded by Hyperides (5.31). Cf. Dinarchus 1.94.

6. Herodotus records the Heraclid ancestry, claimed by Alexander I around 500 BCE (5.22, 8.137–8.139). Alexander the Great’s mother Olympias was from Epirus and a member of the Molossian royal house, whose putative ancestor Molossus was likely mentioned in the lost epic, the Nostoi, as descended from Achilles.

7. Veyne 1988: 11–14.

8. Or, to put it in Ober’s terms, these two groups were the “educated elite” and “the masses” (1989: 11), although he is applying these terms specifically to Athenians.

10. Sophocles’ play Tereus, produced sometime near the beginning of the war, had the popular version to which Thucydides objected, as we shall see later.

11. Minos: Arist. Pol. 1271b; Thuc. 1.4; Theseus: Paus. 1.3.3; Arist. Ath. Pol. 41.2.

12. Pausanias’ views especially have received treatment by scholars and are often seen as a reflection of their times, the second century CE. See J. A. Hall 1981: 199; Branham 1989: 155; Elsner 1992: 16; Konstan 2001: 37. This is certainly a valid characterization, though we shall consider in Chapter Six a broader context to account as well for Pausanias’ skepticism along the lines mentioned here, on which see Veyne 1988: 13–14.

13. Smith 1999: 57–58; J. M. Hall 2002: 15.

14. See Thomas 1989: 161–173 and the next chapter.

15. The oral nature of most traditions can also account for the relative fluidity of some of them. Different versions of a myth, or even different myths entirely, resulting in multiple identities, might serve the needs of a state according to the immediate political circumstances. The Magnesians’ claim of Aeolian descent through Magnes is an example of the former, because Hesiod’s more well-known version makes him a son of Zeus (F. 7 MW). Multiple identities arising from separate traditions are known for Sparta (Dorian, Heraclid, and Pelopid), Athens (Ionian and autochthonous), and possibly Miletus (Ionian and Aeolian) and Samos (founded by Samos, Procles, or Cydrolaus).

16. Gruen 1992: 31; Cornell 1995: 65.

17. Thorough treatments of these matters may be found in Zanker 1990 and Galinsky 1996.

18. SIG³ 591 (translation in Austin 1981, no. 155). On kinship diplomacy in the Roman world in general, see Elwyn 1993, with discussion of Lampsacus on pp. 273–274.

19. Justin 42.3.4. In fact Pompeius Trogus, whom Justin epitomizes, suggests that the kinship was proposed by the Albani rather than the Romans. For the arguments I made in favor of a Roman invention, see Patterson 2002.

20. Chronicarum quae dicuntur Fredegarii scholastici Liber 3.2, MGH Scriptores rerum Merovingicarum 2.93. See further Geary 1988: 77–78; Bouet 1995: 403–404.

21. Beaune 1991: 242.

22. Bouet 1995: 405–406; Southern 2004: 26.

23. Albu 2001: 7–8.

24. De moribus et actis primorum Normanniae ducum 130.

25. Bouet 1995: 407, 412; Albu 2001: 15; Southern 2004: 26.

26. Albu 2001: 10.

27. Hauner 1978: 26. Hitler’s vacillating views of the English as a kindred people also applied to the citizens of the United States. For a time he expressed hope that Germans and Americans would unite in meeting the threat of Bolshevism, and he couched this political goal in the delusion of racial kinship, even as he in truth counted on American neutrality in the war. See Compton 1967: 28–30.

28. Ellis 1998: 69–70.

29. Though a little more precision is perhaps called for here. As Nick Crowson explains, “Such links emphasized the connection of the Anglo-Saxon races of Europe and stressed the common teutonic heritage. Whilst it is difficult to define the extent to which these cultural influences encouraged Germanophile sentiments, they nevertheless must have at least suggested to Conservatives that Germany could be a civilized nation” (1997: 26).

30. Geary 2002: 7. See also the collection of essays edited by Hobsbawm and Ranger (1983). One chapter, by Prys Morgan (1983), examines the “revival” of Welsh identity in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in the face of an absorption into English culture through the reinterpretation and invention of Celtic cultural forms, such as the conception of the “Druid.” I believe something similar took place in Messenia after its liberation from Spartan domination in c. 370 BCE, when local mythical figures such as Aepytus were either revived or created ab nihilo, and the historical but quasi-legendary Aristomenes was put forth as the great champion of Messenian independence from Sparta.

31. The main line of Fried’s argument is that the Constitutum was a ninth-century forgery of Frankish monasteries, as against the more traditional view of an invention in the papal court of the eighth century. See especially Fried 2007: 35–49.

32. On the point made here about Walter von der Vogelweide, see Fried 2007: 8. On Otto of Freising, Fried 2007: 13; on Gerhoch of Reichersberg, Fried 2007: 14.

33. Fried 2007: 10.

34. C. P. Jones 1999: 4. I have found his term “kinship diplomacy” to be a handy rubric for a very large topic.

35. Another difference is in scope. Jones touches on Greeks, Romans, and Christians in somewhat broad strokes, while I limit this book to the Greek world for the sake of coherence and length. Although I consider the Greeks’ relations with Persians, Thracians, and other foreigners, I have elected to leave out the Romans for the simple reason that this topic seems to me worthy of its own monograph. The Greeks’ relations with other foreign powers is one thing, but the case of the Romans differs in that the expansion of Roman influence into the eastern Mediterranean profoundly changed the dynamics of power in the hellenistic East. Many of the old links had fallen into disuse, although they were still acknowledged and thus known to those sources whom Pausanias, Strabo, and others consulted in imperial times. In the second century BCE, instead of appealing to each other for help in troubled times, hellenistic cities and kings began to turn to the great power in the West that was increasingly mediating relations in the Greek East. That is a different dynamic from what we get in earlier examples of Greek assertions of kinship with foreigners. In those cases, the foreigners are on the fringe of a Greek world, where the political orientation remains firmly centered.

36. C. P. Jones 1999: 4. Likewise, Curty limited himself to “legendary kinship,” of which Jones is critical (Jones 1999: 153n.4 under “Introduction”). Regarding the prestige of antiquity, Malkin (2005: 64–66) has observed that cities often invoked mythical origins to enhance their prestige, to the point of sometimes inventing new mythical founders even if a historical one was already revered in local tradition, as happened, for example, in Croton. See also Clarke 2008: 199–200.

37. Noble attempts at wrestling with the problem of defining what a “myth” is can be found in Honko 1984; Kirk 1984 and 1990; and Dowden 1992.

38. J. M. Hall 1997: 25 (Hall’s italics). Cf. J. M. Hall 2002: 14–15. Interestingly, this idea of putative ethnicity came up when Sonia Sotomayor was nominated to the U.S. Supreme Court in May 2009. On its website, the Pew Hispanic Center posed the possibility that Judge Sotomayor may not be the first Hispanic Justice after all. Ultimately, it depends on how one defines Hispanic and Latino ethnicity, which can be somewhat fluid: “One approach defines a Hispanic or Latino as a member of an ethnic group that traces its roots to 20 Spanish-speaking nations from Latin America and Spain itself (but not Portugal or Portuguese-speaking Brazil). The other approach is much simpler. Who’s Hispanic? Anyone who says they are. And nobody who says they aren’t. The U.S. Census Bureau uses this second approach.” See Pew Hispanic Center 2009. My thanks to Nancy Moore for referring me to this website.

39. Indeed, I should make clear that this study assumes fictiveness in the claims of descent from Heracles, Hellen, and other mythical figures. My concern is with them as putative ancestors, their importance to the creation of identity, and their use in interstate relations. For example, while I note the debate about the historicity of the Return of the Heracleidae in the next chapter, I do not need to offer a resolution of that debate to discuss how the Greeks conceived it and used it for political gain.

40. Barth 1969: 14, quoted by Konstan 2001: 43n.2.

41. Eriksen (1993: 11) uses “boundaries of the group” to explain how ethnicity might be delineated. This indigenous perspective used to be styled “emic” and roughly corresponds to the so-called primordialist view of ethnicity. This perspective is opposed to the instrumentalist, which proposes that ethnic choices in fact serve political or economic goals that belie the ostensible intentions of those choices. But there has been a growing awareness among anthropologists of the dangers of this dichotomy, which inhibits a proper understanding of ethnicity. Certain economic and political realities often do have to be acknowledged by the ethnic group facing them, even as the importance of the indigenous perspective on how to view the world and the culture’s place in it cannot be denied. See J. M. Hall 1997: 18; Konstan 2001: 30. As ethnicity per se is not my primary concern, I do not see this development in anthropological thinking as anathema to the goal of better understanding how myth works. For one thing, myths are as variable as the criteria of ethnic identity. Also, “myth” means many things, as we saw when considering the “historical fiction” of the Donation of Constantine.

42. The canonical stemma of Hellen and his sons, Aeolus, Xuthus, and Dorus, was articulated in the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women, FF. 9, 10a; cf. Apollod. Bibl. 1.7.3. Fowler (1998: 3–5) and Kühr (2006: 16–18) put greater emphasis on the instability of local traditions, as they respond to local needs and circumstances, than Finkelberg (2005: 28–29), who notes how the panhellenic stemma was considered so canonical as to impose certain limits on the extent to which local communities could innovate when articulating their place in the mythological mosaic. Or more accurately, it provided a framework by which communities and mythographers abided. See also Clarke 2008: 202–203.

43. Elwyn 1993: 264–267; Curty 1995: 254–255. Cf. Erskine 2002: 103–104.

44. Elwyn 1991: 306–311; C. P. Jones 1999: 133–134; Erskine 2002: 104.

45. There are a number of occasions in which a polis might offer justifications and incentives for a diplomatic venture but bolstered its case with a claim of kinship in case the other reasons were deemed insufficient for rendering aid.

46. The main sources for the debate are Musti 1963; Elwyn 1991; Curty 1995; Will 1995; and Lücke 2000. See also Giovannini 1997; C. P. Jones 1999; and Erskine 2002. These studies owe much to the pioneering work of Louis Robert, who examined many cases of kinship diplomacy, especially involving states in Asia Minor. He had announced that he was planning a more comprehensive treatment of the concept of “parentés de peuples” (1935: 498; 1960: 520), but this project was never realized. In addition to the examples covered in this book, see also Curty 1994a, 1994b, 1999, 2001.

47. Robert has written, for example, about documents asserting links between Heraclea-at-Latmus and the Aetolians (1987: 173–186), Samos and Antioch-on-the-Maeander (1973: 446–448), Samos and Lebedos (1960: 211), Gonnos and Magnesia-on-the-Maeander (1969a: 100n.5), Pergamum and Tegea (1969a: 453–454), and Alabanda (Chrysaorian Antioch) and the Greeks in general (1973: 448–466).

48. That is not to say that every instance of kinship diplomacy was between a colony and its mother-city. Many links were asserted on broader grounds, e.g., an ethnic affiliation between Miletus and Mylasa, whose respective founders were descended from Aeolus. The case made by Cytenium (in Doris) when requesting financial help from Xanthus was probably based on a common Doric identity stemming either from Bellerophon (who left Corinth, a Dorian city, and whose descendant married Aletes, a descendant of Heracles and king of Corinth, coming full circle) or through Asclepius, descended from Dorus through Coronis and from Leto, the archegtis of Xanthus, through Apollo.

49. This phenomenon is one way to explain the general tendency of the Greeks to regard myth, or at least heroic myth, as history. Accounts of kings such as Pelops and Agamemnon, whatever attempts there may be to rationalize them, “are the only traditions relating to times which otherwise would be blank—only myth can fill the historical vacuum” (Dowden 1992: 42).

50. Robert 1969a: 100n.5.

51. Musti 1963: 229, 233–235.

52. Musti 1963: 238. Musti, however, emphasized the point that this is only a trend and that such an interpretation should not be applied to the documents too severely, as other scholars had done.

53. Musti 1963: 226; Curty 1995: 231; Will 1995: 300; C. P. Jones 1999: 14. Elwyn concludes that use of the two terms defies any particular pattern in terms of consanguinity versus something more vague. See especially 1991: 275–283.

54. Lücke 2000: 119. This methodology in general is sound, and indeed I agree with Lücke that there are some cases in which the putative relationship between two communities is perhaps less consanguineous. See also Lücke 2000: 26–27, but I think Lücke underestimates the degree to which the Greeks embraced genealogy as a political tool.

55. Diod. 17.4.1; Just. 11.3.1.

56. Erskine 2002: 104. Cf. Curty 1995: 254–255.

57. Hdt. 5.42–48; Diod. 4.23; Paus. 3.4.1, 3.16.4–5.

58. Arr. 5.3.1–4; cf. Arr. Ind. 5.9–13.

59. On Phocis, see Paus. 10.1.1, 10.4.10.

60. Miletus: Paus. 7.2.1–4; Phygela: Strabo 14.1.20.

61. Paus. 5.1.3–5; Strabo 10.3.2, 14.1.8.

62. Tegean version: Paus. 8.47.4, 48.7, 54.6; Pergamene version: Paus. 1.4.6.

63. Again, as I mentioned in the case of Jonathan above, the point of view of non-Greeks is of concern to me as well. After all, the point of kinship diplomacy, if there is to be any immediate gain from it and is not simply an exercise in ideological propaganda for the Greeks back home, is to make the other side, even if not Greek, go along with your own claim of kinship. The intention was often to stabilize the situation that had resulted from a conquest of the native tribe or state or to secure an alliance with a foreign power, such as Thrace. As I mentioned above, I believe Pompey had employed kinship myth to deflect the hostility of the Albani in the eastern Caucasus.

CHAPTER 2

1. Among the many of this persuasion, to one extent or another, are Finley 1965: 284; Habicht 1984: 41; Nilsson 1986: 12; Veyne 1988: 21–26; Dowden 1992: 42; Bremmer 1997: 16; C. P. Jones 1999: 4; Calame 2003: 22–27; Green 2004: 8; Kühr 2006: 23; Pretzler 2007: 74; Luraghi 2008: 47.

2. StV III 453; Strabo 14.1.20.

3. Brillante 1990: 94.

5. Hes. Works and Days 109–201. If the fourth and fifth ages of Hesiod’s plan are in some sense separate, it is because the heroes were men of superhuman ability and accomplishment, far beyond the paltry claims that could be made in the “modern” age of archaic Greece.

6. Hignett 1963: 313.

7. Veyne 1988: 28. Buxton (1994: 178–179) draws a similar conclusion: “The compatibility of alternatives is basic to Greek mythology.”

8. Thomas 1989: 180.

9. See further Veyne 1988: 41–57; Green 2004: 13–15. For general discussions of the relationship of myth and philosophy in Ionia, see Kirk 1990: 276–303; Murray 1993: 250–251. On Ionian rationalizations of myth, Pearson 1939 is important. For example, on Hecataeus, see pp. 28 and 97–106.

10. It bears noting that they are working primarily in literary mediums. Rosalind Thomas, discussing the construction of genealogies, argues that the written text by its very nature seeks to sort out inconsistencies and wild claims that are engendered by family traditions handed down orally (1989: Ch. 3).

11. Diod. 4.1.4. Diodorus, nonetheless, conveys a sense that this mythological material is fundamentally different from historical accounts by his assertion that it is unfair to judge the veracity of the former by the standards of the latter (4.8.3–4) and by distancing himself from the mythological narrative with such phrases as “it is said” and “the myth writers say.” See Marincola 1997: 119–121.

13. The nature and historicity of the Dorian “invasion” are highly problematic for a number of reasons. For one, in the ancient accounts themselves, as we shall see, there was a definite distinction made between Dorians and Heracleidae. See further Malkin 1994: 38–43; J. M. Hall 1997: 56–62; Cartledge 2002: 68. For more on the debate about historicity, see note 22 below.

14. See further Schepens (1977: 106–107) and Clarke (2008: 98), who both make the point that Ephorus was concerned with reliable sources in his presentation and conception of history and laid stress on truth as a criterion for his choices of what to include.

15. Bickerman 1952: 70; Dowden 1992: 42.

16. Arist. Pol. 1271b; cf. Thuc. 1.4.

17. Hdt. 2.120. Herodotus’ credulity is often difficult to gauge because (1) in general, his method of relating uncertain or disputed accounts is to present multiple variants, often with his own final judgment omitted, and (2) he interweaves the historical and the mythological freely throughout his work, especially for aetiological purposes. But there are a few passages, including 2.120, in which he expresses his unequivocal belief in the historicity of mythological personages. At 5.59–61, Herodotus has seen in the temple of Ismenian Apollo in Thebes tripods with inscriptions indicating who had dedicated them: Amphitryon, Scaeus son of Hippocoon (whose association with this tripod is not certain but whose historicity is obviously not doubted), and Laodamas son of Eteocles of Thebes. At 2.49, Herodotus attributes the origins of the worship of Dionysus in Greece to Melampus the Minyan, who had brought it from Egypt. At 7.134–137, the historian recounts the consequences that Sparta faced for throwing envoys sent by Darius into a well: they suffered the wrath of Agamemnon’s herald Talthybius, a real person whose descendants, the Talthybiadae, continued to be heralds for Sparta.

18. Arist. Ath. Pol. 41.2. There is a similar situation in Aristotle’s discussion of the origins of the Thessalian League, in which he attributes its tetradic system and the resulting military organization to a mythical Aleuas the Red, the putative ancestor of the ruling Aleuadae. See FF. 497 and 498 Rose.

19. Aeschin. 2.31. It was especially characteristic of the Athenian orators to cite mythical events as early examples of greatness later displayed or as precedents or proofs for later claims (e.g., Dem. 60.8; Isoc. 4.68–71, 7.75, 12.193; Lys. 2.3–16).

20. Veyne 1988: 14.

21. One interesting line that the educated physician Galen drew had less to do with the historicity of myth than its usefulness. On the issue of whether centaurs existed, Galen expressed his disbelief when propounding his ideas to his learned readers. But when it came to generating interest in his work and attracting new students, he was willing to include Chiron in the early history of medicine. It was not that he actually believed it but rather that he was employing the sort of rhetorical trick to which orators in court resorted to win their case. “[R]hetoric was the art of winning more than the art of being right. In order to win—that is, to convince—it was doubtless necessary to start with what people thought rather than rub the jury the wrong way by telling them that they were mistaken on everything and must change their worldview to acquit the accused” (Veyne 1988: 55–56). Talk of rhetoric in this way might bring to mind the aforementioned reference Aeschines makes to Acamas (2.31) and my comment on orators, but here there is a difference. True, Aeschines is out to win over a jury and he employs myth to that end, but his belief in the historicity of Theseus and Acamas is genuine because they were not mythological monsters as centaurs were. The disingenuousness that Veyne talks about does not apply here because there are no fantastical elements in Aeschines’ “proof,” which the orator used to justify Athens’ possession of Amphipolis.

22. Was there a Dorian invasion? The argument that there was not runs along two lines of reasoning. First, Chadwick (1976: 112–115) and Hooker (1976: 170–173; 1979: 359–360) argued for a Dorian presence in the Peloponnesus in Mycenaean times by identifying Dorian features in the Greek of the Linear B tablets, an interpretation that has not convinced Cartledge (2002: 66–67) or Malkin (1994: 45). Cf. J. M. Hall 1997: 167. Second, archaeology has yet to prove such an “invasion” (J. M. Hall 1997: 114–129; Thomas and Conant 1999: 41–43). An absence of archaeological evidence does not, however, necessarily argue against the historicity of a migration, as the example of the Celtic settlement of Galatia attests (Winter 1977; cf. J. M. Hall 1997: 129). As it is, having examined in detail the ceramic and other evidence in Laconia, Cartledge has argued that a complete rejection of an arrival of the Dorians is not warranted, much of the evidence showing a possible outside influence datable to the tenth century (2002: 65–82). What the evidence cannot speak to is migration as an invasion. In the tenth century (and perhaps in the preceding and following centuries as well), we may be dealing with gradual movements of small groups, much like the migrations of Ionians and others in the Dark Age period.

23. Malkin 1994: 45.

25. While this view is common enough (see J. M. Hall 1997: 59n.198 for bibliography), J. M. Hall (1997: 59) poses an interesting question: if the intention was to conceal the Dorians’ extra-Peloponnesian origin and characterize their invasion as a return, why did their foreign origin persist in ancient accounts? The difficulty, however, is not so great. Technically, the Heracleidae and the Dorians were separate peoples, and even our ancient sources are clear on this. But the association of the two was sufficient for the Dorians to justify their possession of the Peloponnesus. That principle lies at the heart of kinship diplomacy. Analytical writers might ponder contradictory details, but the momentum of the Return story was too great in the collective memory of most Greeks for the narrative difficulties to undermine the propagandistic goals for which it was created.

26. Thuc. 1.12.3; Paus. 4.3.3. Cf. Hdt. 9.26; Strabo 9.4.10; Vell. Pat. 1.2.1. The main narrative of the Return is to be found in Apollod. Bibl. 2.8.1–5 and Diod. 4.57–58. For additional citations of ancient sources, see Graves 1992: 572 and the scholars listed in the next note.

27. Tigerstedt 1965: 28–34; Nilsson 1986: 70–72; Vanschoonwinkel 1995: 127–131; J. M. Hall 1997: 56–57.

28. Tisamenus killed: Apollod. Bibl. 2.8.3; Tisamenus expelled: Paus. 2.18.7.

29. Apollod. Bibl. 2.8.2–5; Diod. 4.58.1–5; Paus. 2.7.6, 4.3.7, 8.5.1; Plato Laws 683d; Isoc. 6.20–23.

30. Thuc. 1.12.3; Paus. 5.3.5.

31. Kings: Hdt. 6.53 (cf. Paus. 3.7.1), Leonidas: 7.204, Leutychides: 8.131.

32. Hdt. 1.56. See further Malkin 1994: 42.

33. Pind. Pyth. 1.60–66.

35. Diod. 4.37.3–4; cf. Strabo 9.4.10.

36. Malkin (1994: 38–40) questions whether the Hylleis are the sons of Hyllus, having examined Hesiod’s Catalogue of Women, Tyrtaeus, and other works. Hesiod shows a clear separation between the lines of Aegimius and Heracles, and in Fragment 19 Tyrtaeus makes no mention of Hyllus when listing the tribes: “… girded by your hollow shields, Pamphyloi, Hylleis, and Dymanes, each of you holding aloft in your hands man-slaying ashen spears” One can grant the distinction between Dorians and Heraclids. One might even grant that perhaps in Tyrtaeus’ time there was no association between Hyllus and the Hylleis, although I will argue below that in fact Tyrtaeus regarded the Heraclid rulers of Sparta and the Dorian Spartiate subjects as essentially of the same stock. In any case, it is clear that by Ephorus’ time the association was firm.

37. The term used by Dowden 1992: 71.

38. Tigerstedt 1965: 34 with earlier references at n.151. Followed by J. M. Hall 1997: 61 and Cartledge 2001: 28. Contra Piérart 1991: 140.

39. His administration of the Olympic Games was left unrecorded by the furious Eleans, a gap that might correspond to either of the interruptions in the list of Olympic victors that date to 748 and 668 (Strabo 8.3.33), in the time of the Argive hegemony. On the dating of Pheidon, see Tomlinson 1972: 81–83; Murray 1993: 143; Koiv 2001.

40. In any case, there is little certainty about whether an Aepytid family in Messenia invoked an “Aepytus” in the archaic period. See further below.

41. Homer, Il. 19.98–124; Apollod. Bibl. 2.4.6–8; cf. Diod. 4.9.1–10.2.

42. Tyndareus: Isoc. 6.18; Diod. 4.33.5; Nestor: Isoc. 6.19.

43. J. M. Hall 1997: 61–62; Parker 1989: 146.

44. Luraghi 2008: 51.

45. Delphi: Paus. 3.1.6; Naupactus: Apollod. Bibl. 2.8.2.

46. Hdt. 6.52; Xen. Ages. 8.6. He is then dead while his sons are still infants: Hdt. 4.147.

47. So Plato said about the Spartans of his own era (Hipp. Mai. 285c–d), explaining that genealogy appealed to them more than subjects of greater sophistication like math and music. Of course, that would have been less the case in the era that produced Tyrtaeus and Alcman.

48. Cf. Tigerstedt (1965: 34), who says that the non-Temenid figures were later fabrications. In a later period, the Argives would go as far as to embrace all the Seven against Thebes as Argive heroes despite their foreign origins and multilocal worship. By stressing the tradition of Argive leadership under Adrastus, they were citing this as a precedent for their own claim to share the leadership with Sparta of the Greek coalition against the Persians in 480 and more generally laying out the hegemonic dynamic as they saw it, or rather wanted to see it. See further J. M. Hall 1999: 53–55 and my discussion below on “multilocality” (Hall’s term).

49. The same situation may lie behind the story of Aletes, king of Corinth and great-great-grandson of Heracles. Aletes probably started out as a local Corinthian hero, covered by the epic poet Eumelus in the eighth century, and was possibly assimilated into the pan-Doric Return story at a later time. See further Salmon 1984: 38; J. M. Hall 1997: 58–59.

50. FGrH 70 F. 118; Strabo 8.5.5.

51. Ephorus seems to be in editorializing mode, because his remarks come as a criticism of Hellanicus, who had wrongly ascribed the role of Lycurgus as constitutional reformer to Procles and Eurysthenes.

52. The same sort of distancing may have been at work within Lacedaemonia itself. The kings’ Heraclid ancestry distinguished them from other noble families, as well as from the common people. See Cartledge 2002: 295.

53. Cartledge 2002: 90, 296–297.

54. Thomas 1989: 161–173.

55. See, for example, Pearson 1962 and Harrison and Spencer 1998: 153.

56. Among those with this view are Shero 1938 and Treves 1944.

57. Alcock 1999: 338.

58. Alcock 1999: 339.

59. Euripides’ story of reclamation may have been inspired by a Messenian reclamation, of a sort, of Pylos after the Athenians captured it from the Spartans in 425. These Messenians had been exiles settled by the Athenians at Naupactus following the helot revolt of the 460s. See Schwartz 1899: 449; Luraghi 2008: 62. Apollodorus’ rendering (Bibl. 2.8.6) seems to be based on Euripides’ version, but with the son’s name changed to Aepytus. This nationalist version was of course only one of several. There was also a pro-Spartan version put forward by Isocrates (6.22–23), discussed in a different context in a later chapter below, and Nicolaus of Damascus (FGrH 90 FF. 31, 34).

60. Cf. Paus. 8.5.6–7. See further Robert 1920: 673–674; Harder 1985: 54; Collard, Cropp, and Lee 1995: 124; Bremmer 1997: 15; Luraghi 2008: 62–63.

61. These writers composed at a time when “tragic” history was all the rage, when sensational and compelling stories were more important than careful accounts of events, causes, and policies, an approach strongly criticized in the following century by Polybius. See Pearson 1962: 412–413.

62. What instead happened, Luraghi argues, was the development of a Messenian identity in the fourth century as an expression of opposition to Spartan and then projected backward in time to the pre-Spartan period. See Luraghi 2002: 48–50 and 2003: 111–112. This is not to say, however, that Spartan elements did not persist in local Messenian myth and cult, on which see Luraghi 2008: 237–239. Cf. Cartledge 2002: 102.

63. Tyrt. F. 11, line 1.

64. The emphasis is on service to the state, on aret from which the group benefits, as opposed to personal kleos, or “glory,” won for the sake of the individual, as in Homer. See further Tarkow 1983: 49–60.

65. Tarkow 1983: 61–68.

66. Fuqua 1981: 223. What Tyrtaeus was doing was capitalizing on the belief that heroes possessed special protective powers, which the community could access through ritual and worship. For copious examples from literature, epigraphy, and art, see Kron 1999. For implications of heroes’ cultic power in particular localities, especially as a focus of communal identity, see Malkin 1987: 202–203.

67. One example of his skill as a poet is his use of imagery in the priamel of Fragment 12, especially the reference at line 7 to Pelops. The priamel is a list of attributes of aret that are demonstrably inferior to the aret possessed by the hoplite who faces the blood and violence of battle. In effect, Tyrtaeus is drawing a contrast between the Heraclid descendants in Laconia and the descendants of Pelops. See Shey 1976: 16. The reference to Pelops, of course, reminds the audience of the saga of the cursed House of Atreus, which is descended from him. Shey’s point is taken, but one can go further and comment that the Atreides’ saga touches on the Return of the Heracleidae because it is from Tisamenus, son of Orestes (who had at some point acquired Argos: Paus. 2.18.5), that Temenus recovers Argos.

68. Herodotus’ sources are ultimately unknowable. For discussion of these king lists, see Cartledge 2002: 293–298.

69. Malkin 1987: 243–245; Kron 1976: 27–31.

70. J. M. Hall 1999: 50; Kearns 1989: 48. Not all scholars, however, ascribe such protective powers to the bones themselves. See, for example, McCauley 1999: 94. Rohde (1925: 121–122) emphasizes the importance of the hero’s grave, to which his bones are subordinated.

71. See J. M. Hall 1999.

72. There are, of course, many more, at least thirteen as identified by McCauley 1999: 96n.40.

73. Plut. Thes. 36.1. Podlecki (1971: 141–142) rightly points out that Plutarch’s date, “in the archonship of Phaedon,” applies only to the oracle and not necessarily to the end of the campaign or the discovery of the bones. See also Walker 1995: 76n.164.

74. Paus. 3.3.7. Though silent about Theseus, Thuc. 1.96–98 and Diod. 11.60 discuss the capture of Scyros in the context of the expansion and enforcement here and elsewhere (e.g., Eion, Carystos, Naxos) of Athenian imperial might in the era known as the Pentecontaetia, the fifty-year period between the Persian and Peloponnesian Wars that saw Athens create a naval empire behind the façade of the Delian League.

75. Cimon first overcame the Dolopians, the piratical inhabitants of the island (Plut. Cim. 8.3–5).

76. The development of these notions is connected to the question of whether we should lay them at the feet of Peisistratus in the mid sixth century or Cleisthenes at the end of the century. See further Kearns 1989: 117–119; Walker 1995: 35–55.

77. Henry Walker (1995: 10–13) has cast doubt on an “Ionian” Theseus. Whereas Hans Herter (1936) had argued that Theseus was originally a pan-Ionian hero who appeared wherever Ionians lived, e.g., in Attica, Thessaly, and Troezen, Walker demonstrates that Theseus was very much an Attic hero from the beginning, in part because of a lack of cult and myth devoted to Theseus in the Ionian states of Asia Minor.

78. McCauley 1999: 95.

79. See the detailed discussion of Walker 1995: 55–61. Further bibliography can be found at McCauley 1999: 91n.20.

80. Podlecki 1971: 143.

81. Il. 2.581–587; Od. 4.

82. Malkin 1994: 47–48; McCauley 1999: 89n.12; Cartledge 2002: 104–105.

83. Thus Pausanias (2.18.6) has the original Orestes himself as their king, “with the Spartans approving”

84. Hdt. 1.65–68; Paus. 3.3.6; cf. Paus. 3.11.10.

85. This view has been the prevailing one from Dickins 1912: 21–24 to Cartledge 2002: 120. For extensive bibliographies, see Boedeker 1998: 173–174n.10; Phillips 2003: 303n.7. The idea of Sparta’s Dorian/Achaean duality comes through in the story of Cleomenes I’s visit to the Athenian Acropolis during his attempt to reverse the recent reforms of Cleisthenes. On that occasion, he made the declaration that he was “an Achaean” rather than a “Dorian” when Athena’s priestess denied him entry into the goddess’ temple (Hdt. 5.72). On this incident, see Phillips 2003: 308–309.

86. Malkin 1994: 27–28.

87. Boedeker 1993: 168–169.

88. Boedeker 1993: 167.

89. See especially Phillips 2003: 310–311.

90. See Paus. 7.1.8 for a brief account of the appropriation of Tisamenus’ bones. Phillips (2003: 312) associates this appropriation with the removal of the “pre-Dorian tyrant” Aeschines of Sicyon soon after 556/5.

91. Cf. Leahy 1955: 30–31.

92. Pind. Pyth. 11.31–32. See Phillips 2003: 313–314. Cf. J. M. Hall 1999: 55–59.

93. See Strabo 14.1.20. Such a desire to enhance a community’s prestige by tracing its origins to heroic times was common. See further Malkin 2005: 64–66; Clarke 2008: 199–200.

94. J. M. Hall 1999: 52.

95. J. M. Hall 1999: 53–55.

CHAPTER 3

1. For example, Nino Luraghi has recognized how exceedingly difficult it is “to reconstruct how Helotry really originated or how the Spartans really conquered Messenia,” taking a different tack as a first step: “Understanding the perceptions and ideologies that have left their mark in the sources, besides being a fruitful activity in its own right, is or should be—an indispensable preliminary stage to any use of the sources for a reconstruction of events and structures” (2003: 110). A similar approach is taken by Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood in her analysis of Greek “perceptions” of the Pelasgians rather than an actual history of the “real Pelasgians” (2003). Still, these developments are not entirely new. Related to this historiographical approach is the so-called linguistic turn described at length by Elizabeth Clark (2004), who sees much benefit in the application of critical and intellectual theory (such as what has traditionally been applied to literature) to historical documents, which are no less literary. Here lies one of the central debates of modern historiography, which came about with the advent of the linguistic turn in the 1970s, for some historians feel that theory applied to history is “‘idealist,’ divorced from material reality, and neglectful of context” (Clark 2004: 110). That debate is beyond the scope of this work, but I would say that while I obviously embrace the need for understanding ancient texts and other evidence in the context of their creation, which necessarily entails some theorizing about authorial intent, I share the critics’ concerns about getting lost in the eddies of the abstract.

2. Arr. 7.11.9; Tarn 1948 (Vol. I): 115–117. Cf. Tarn’s main discussion: 1948 (Vol. II): 399–449.

3. Bosworth 1980a: 4, 11.

4. Fehling 1989: 9.

5. Rosalind Thomas’ phrase (2000: 4). See also Pritchett 1993: 10–143 for a detailed discussion of Fehling’s examples.

6. In fact, Murray (1987: 106–107) has argued for an Ionian storytelling tradition that influenced Herodotus’ conception of history. This tradition is replete with the sort of folktale motifs that animate much of Herodotus’ narrative.

7. On heroes as eponymns of foreign peoples, see Bickerman 1952: 68–69; Drews 1973: 8–11; Nilsson 1986: 96–98.

8. Heracles: Hdt. 2.44; cf. Arr. 2.16.1; Dionysus: Hdt. 3.8.

9. See, for example, the discussions of Gould 1989: 24–27; Miller 1997: 105–108;T. Harrison 1998; and Munson 2005: 27–29 with further bibliography at 29n.51.

10. Lewis 1985: 106–117.

12. One representative of such interaction would be the exiled Spartan king Damaratus, who had the ear of Xerxes himself. There are also the many clay tablets, mentioned above, that refer to Greek secretaries working in the Persian Empire during the reign of Darius I, on which see Lewis 1985: 106–108.

13. Hdt. 6.78–80, 6.83, 7.148; Paus. 3.4.1.

14. Hellanicus was a younger contemporary of Herodotus, and so there has been some debate on how much Herodotus was indebted to him. See further Drews 1973: 23–24, 155–156n.18.

15. Drews 1973: 151n.58.

16. Tomlinson 1972: 92. According to Drews (1973: 151n.58), Hecataeus of Miletus may have made the first genealogy connecting Perses with the Persians, although no fragments of Hecataeus in the FGrH attest this. Herodotus does not attribute his account of Perses in 7.61 or 7.150 to Hecataeus. On the other hand, while the floruit of Hecataeus is not necessarily the terminus post quem of the creation of the Perses link—for, as suggested above, it could well be placed closer to the mid sixth century—it remains that (1) Herodotus used Hecataeus in his history (e.g., 2.143, 6.137) and (2) Hecataeus, given his interest in Persian affairs and in mythical genealogies, is likely to have invented Perses.

17. Drews 1973: 147n.25. He also cites line 155, in which the Chorus hails Atossa, Xerxes’ mother, “O highest Queen of the deep-girdled Persian women” I am unclear as to what Drews has in mind by citing this line. Perhaps he means that — despite one usage in Homer as an epithet for Trojan women (Od. 3.154) and a scholium on that passage to the effect that this word denotes only barbarian women—generally was used, along with to describe Greek goddesses and nymphs (e.g., HH Dem. 5; HH Aphr. 258, Baccyl. 5.9; Pind. Isth. 74), with one Homeric usage for Greek women (Id. 9.594). Such a word in the context of this scene might resonate with the audience in a way similar to the earlier allusions.

18. See Georges 1994: 67.

21. Schol. Dion. Per. 1053. Jacoby (1957: 453) provides the text in his commentary on Hellanicus (FGrH 4 FF. 59–60).

22. Contra Pearson 1939: 205.

23. Herodotus himself says of the Persians’ origins that the Greeks called the Persians “of old” Cephenes, while the latter’s own name for themselves was Artaei before they took their more famous name from Perses (7.61). Pearson (1939: 205) believes this to be a conflation of earlier accounts.

24. At 7.151, however, Herodotus uses Athenian sources to back it up, referring to Athenian envoys in Susa in c. 450, who supposedly encountered an Argive delegation sent to reaffirm the alliance between Argos and Persia. Artaxerxes, son of Xerxes, declared that Argos was still a city dear to him.

25. Nagy 1990: 315.

26. Munson 2001: 229–230. The translation of 3.38.4 is my own. She also mentions 2.3.2, containing a declaration that “all men know equally about the gods” (Munson’s translation).

27. On the Malice of Herodotus 863b–864a.

28. Their willing surrender (7.132) contrasts with those who had no choice, such as the Thessalians (7.172) and the Phocians (9.17). Leonidas kept a contingent of Thebans with him as hostages during the Battle of Thermopylae (7.205, 222), but they defected to the Persians when the opportunity arose (7.233). The Thebans’ support of Mardonius is especially well documented: 9.2, 13, 15, 31, 38, 40. At 9.67, the Thebans were said to have fought for the Persians more assiduously than other Greek allies. See also 8.50 and 9.86–88.

29. How and Wells 1950: Vol. II, 189.

30. Murray 1987: 99–101.

31. Crane 1996: 150. For a full catalogue, from which I take the following examples, see Crane 1996: 147–161.

32. I had discussed above the extent to which Thucydides embraced such mythical figures as Minos. See Chapter One.

33. See especially J. M. Hall 1997: 25 on the primacy of these eponymous ancestors over other considerations, such as language and religion, in determining Dorian and Ionian ethnic identity.

34. Crane 1996: 153–159; J. M. Hall 1997: 38; Mitchell 1997: 24–25. Alty (1982: 5–6) rightly points out that we should not overgeneralize Thucydides’ views based on the few examples, mainly from the Sicilian Expedition, that suggest this point of view.

35. Alty 1982: 6.

36. So attached had Sadocus become to Athens that he participated in 430, along with Nymphodorus in collusion with two Athenian ambassadors, in the capture of several Peloponnesian envoys sent to Thrace en route to Persia (Thuc. 2.67; Hdt. 7.137). Cf. the remark of Aristophanes at Acharnians 141–150, where Sadocus’ Athenian citizenship and successful petitions to his father on Athens’ behalf are acknowledged.

38. FF. 581–595, Radt.

39. Apollod. Bibl. 3.14.8; Ovid Meta. 6.424–674; cf. Paus. 1.5.4, 10.4.6.

40. Gomme 1956: 90n.1; Hornblower 1991: 287.

41. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff 1931: 52n.2; Zacharia 2001: 102. There is early evidence of the story of Procne and Philomela, though by what names they went is unclear. In Homer, a daughter of Pandareus kills her son Itylus and later becomes a nightingale (Od. 19.518–523). Hesiod says that the nightingale (the bird Procne becomes in later accounts) never sleeps, and the swallow (Philomela in later accounts) sleeps only half the amount of other birds as a result of “the suffering endured in Thrace in that appalling dinner” F. 312 MW). If Tereus were mentioned here, then we would have a very early connection between Tereus and Thrace. As it is, the earliest extant reference to Tereus is Aeschylus’ Hicetides (60–68), in which elements of the story are recognizable, though there is no reference to Thrace in the fragments. See further Gantz 1996: 239–240.

42. Paus. 1.41.8. On Tereus as a Megarian hero, see Hanell 1934: 37–39.

44. Whereas in Apollodorus’ version, Tereus ruled in Thrace and nearly caught up with Procne and Philomela in Daulis, where they were all transformed into birds (Bibl. 3.14.8).

45. Plenty of evidence shows the Greeks’ preoccupation with names and their morphologies. This preoccupation accounts, for example, for their considerable use of eponyms. In connection with Tereus, see Dowden 1992: 85.

46. The year of Xerxes’ expedition. Afterwards, the Persians were largely driven out of Thrace by the Greeks (Hdt. 7.106).

47. Thuc. 2.29.2. See further Casson 1926: 193; Isaac 1986: 96–97; Stronk 1995: 48–51.

48. Radt 1977: 436; Zacharia 2001: 95.

49. Stronk 1995: 53; Zacharia 2001: 102–103.

50. Burnett 1998: 184.

51. Jonathan Hall suggests that barbarians so captivated the Greek tragedians that they had, finally, to resort to inventing new ones, thus: “Tereus, originally a Megarian cult hero, becomes a savage king of Thrace in Sophocles’ homonymous play” (2002: 177–178). Edith Hall points out that the sexual excesses of Tereus contrasted with Plato’s virtue of sphrosun, which involved self-control and moderation (1991: 126). On Tereus, see also E. Hall 1991: 103–105.

52. Adcock and Mosley observe that in general democratic assemblies would not be equipped to understand fully foreign affairs or issues involving interstate diplomacy, given limitations in travel and literacy. Men like Pericles, then, would play particularly important roles in bringing these issues to the demos for debate in the assembly (1975: 167).

53. Hdt. 1.64; Isaac 1986: 14–15.

54. Hdt. 6.34–36; Isaac 1986: 163–175.

55. Plut. Cim. 7.1–3, 14.2; Thuc. 1.98; Hdt. 7.107; Diod. 11.60; Polyaen. 7.24; Paus. 8.8.9; Nepos Cim. 2.2; Isaac 1986: 19–20, 23–24.

56. Thuc. 4.105.1; Plut. Cim. 4.1.

57. Hdt. 6.39; Plut. Cim. 4.1–2.

58. Thuc. 4.104.4; Plut. Cim. 4.1.

59. By whom remains unclear, as Stronk notes in his commentary at Ana. 7.2.32 (1995: 191–192). On the career of Seuthes II, see Stronk 1995: 140–143.

61. Literally, “in accordance with their kinship,” (Xen. Ana. 7.3.39).

62. On the Athenians’ “collective wisdom,” see Ober 1989: 156–165; on the importance of “opinion,” see Ober 1993: 83. My suggestion that Pericles could have applied manipulative tactics in the deliberations about Thrace arises from the ease with which the collective, given its disadvantage in practical knowledge, could be manipulated to follow certain policies. Indeed, an educated man like Pericles might cite specific myths and historical facts for this reason, although in the case of Tereus, there is no way to know if Pericles introduced this putative link with the Odrysians or if it was voiced in common discussions among the demos. In general, see further Ober 1989: 177–182.

63. See especially Ober 1993: 84–85.

64. A voluminous bibliography awaits the reader interested in the Jews’ struggle to redefine their identity in the hellenistic and Roman periods. Good starting points include Collins 1983; Mendels 1992; Gruen 1998 and 2001; Rajak 2002.

65. Recent studies, with further bibliography, include Katzoff 1985: 485–489; Orrieux 1987: 187n.7; Gruen 1996 and 1998: 253–268; C. P. Jones 1999: 75–79. A thorough study is Goldstein 1976: 447–462.

66. Goldstein 1976: 62–64.

67. Some controversy exists about whether it is Onias I or Onias II, but the former seems more likely. See Schürer 1973: 185n.33; Goldstein 1976: 455–456; Orrieux 1987: 174– 175; Gruen 1996: 265n.3 and 1998: 254n.32.

72. See further Goldstein 1976: 459–460.

73. C. P. Jones 1999: 77.

75. Indeed, the implausibility itself has been offered as grounds for rejecting the authenticity of the letter, as in Cardauns 1967: 318–320.

76. Areus needed allies and mercenaries for his adventures (on which see Cartledge and Spawforth 2002: 28–37), including his attempt to engage the Aetolian League in Boeotia in 281 (Justin 24.1.1–7), his confrontation with Pyrrhus in Argos following the latter’s repulse from Laconia (Plut. Pyrrh. 30–32), and his efforts to build an anti-Macedonian alliance (including among others Ptolemy II), which were recognized in the decree of Chremonides of Athens in 268 (SIG³ 434/5).

77. Goldstein 1976: 457. Orrieux (1987: 174) accepts the possibility of mercenaries as Areus’ motive for calling on Judaea but not the notion that he cited kinship. This detail, Orrieux argues, was a later interpolation.

78. The Ptolemaic context is suggested by, for example, Ehrenberg 1929: 1425; Ginsburg 1934: 119; Cartledge and Spawforth 2002: 36–37. For the idea of a local Jewish community as a factor, see Ehrenberg 1929: 1425; Ginsburg 1934: 122. Schüller (1956: 267–268) argues forcefully against the existence of such a community.

79. See further Gruen 1996: 261 and 1998: 263.

80. II Macc. 4:7–5:10; cf. Jos. Ant. 12.238–241. Ginsburg (1934: 122) suggests that a local Jewish community at Sparta may have drawn Jason there, but, as Schüller correctly points out, if the vile Jason has been rejected by the Jewish communities in Judaea and Egypt, why would he be accepted by the one at Sparta? See further Schüller 1956: 266.

81. Schürer 1973: 19–20.

82. Orrieux 1987: 181.

83. Goldstein 1976: 456–457.

84. Jos. Ap. 1.183; Diod. 1.46.8; Plut. Lyc. 20.3. See further Stern 1976: 20–44.

85. FGrH 264 F. 6 = Diod. 40.3.2–3.

86. Goldstein 1976: 458.

87. Hecataeus FGrH 264 F. 24; Clement Stromateis 5.113.2; Eusebius Praep. Evang. 13.13 680d; cf. Jos. Ant. 1.159.

88. Goldstein 1976: 458; Stern 1976: 22.

89. Cleodemus FGrH 273, F. 102 = Jos. Ant. 1.240–241; cf. Eus. Praep. Evang. 9.20.2–4.

90. Walbank 1993: 210–212.

91. On the problems attending the timing of the two decrees, see Schürer 1973: 204– 205; Rajak 1981: 78–79; Gruen 1998: 267–268.

92. On the connotations of philia, see Curty 1995: 228–229; Will 1995: 302–303; C. P. Jones 1999: 78.

93. Gruen 1996: 259–262 and 1998: 259–268.

94. A synopsis of Jonathan’s career, including his machinations whose success stemmed largely from wars between Seleucid rivals, can be found at Schürer 1973: 174–186.

95. They are surveyed by Katzoff 1985: 487 and Gruen 1996: 257–258, 263 and 1998: 257–258, 266.

96. Goldstein 1976: 447, 450; Jones 1999: 79.

97. Goldstein 1976: 448.

98. Antiochus’ aggressions are not made explicit in the extant text of the inscription that the Lampsacenes dedicated to one of the ambassadors, Hegesias. Nonetheless, the timing of the embassy strongly suggests this context. The basis of the kinship mentioned at lines 18–19, 21, 25, 30–31, 55, 56, and 60–61 was probably Lampsacus’ affiliation with Troy via its membership in the Ilian League. See further Bickerman 1932; Elwyn 1993: 273–274; C. P. Jones 1999: 95–96. Gruen (1984: 543n.56, 621n.42) disputes the connection with Antiochus.

99. Polyb. 38.10.5, 38.11.1; Paus. 7.14.1.

100. I Macc. 8; Jos. Ant. 12.414–419.

101. See further Gruen 1996: 258 and 1998: 258.

102. Gruen 1996: 263–264 and 1998: 266.

103. Gruen 2001: 362.

104. Katzoff 1985: 488–489.

CHAPTER 4

1. Then there is the famous scene in Herodotus in which Peisistratus ostensibly manipulates myth for political gain by claiming Athena has supported his return to Athens, following his first exile in the 550s (Hdt. 1.60). Herodotus expresses dismay that Athenians, so clever among Greeks, should be taken in by this contrivance, and some scholars accordingly regard the affair as an occasion when the populace was duped, e.g., Boardman (1972: 60). Connor (1987: 44–47), on the other hand, sees Peisistratus’ “audience” as sharing in the “theatricality” of the episode because the tyrant’s arrival in a chariot, with Athena at his side, bears a resemblance to certain communal rituals. Connor describes both literary and cultic parallels, and it seems reasonable to me that archaic Athenians would indeed be less gullible than Herodotus suggested. The credulity I see pervading among most Greeks arose from acceptance of mythological explanations for current realities, as conveyed by oral and literary tradition, but a divine epiphany such as this was probably too much for most Athenian citizens of the sixth century to accept at face value.

3. See further Wickersham 1991: 17n.2.

4. There were also shrines and cultic rituals involving these mythical personages in Athens and, presumably after the Athenian takeover, in Salamis as well (Paus. 1.35.2).

5. Plut. Sol. 9.1.

6. For a fuller discussion of Solon’s anthropological arguments and their possible Delphic context, see Higbie 1997: 299–303.

8. J. M. Hall 1997: 20–25.

9. Higbie 1997: 284–285.

10. So noted at Strabo 9.1.10.

12. Aside from Solon’s interpolated verses, a local tradition in Athens was also suggested by certain archaeological evidence: the marble base of a bronze statue of the Trojan Horse found in the temple of Athena Brauronia on the Acropolis, dated to no later than 414 BCE. Pausanias (1.23.8) says that among the Greek warriors hidden in the horse, the statue shows Menestheus, Teucer, and the sons of Theseus. None of these Athenians are listed in the “canonical” catalogues before late antiquity. See further Higbie 1997: 290–291.

13. Perhaps in the fourth and third centuries BCE. Among them may be Praxion, Dieuchidas, Hereas, and Heragoras. See further Figueira 1985a: 118n.2 and Okin 1985: 19n.3.

14. Here we have an oddity. Scholiasts of Homer, Pindar, and Apollonius refer to the famous centaur Chiron (Kheiron) as the father of Endeïs. But as no ancient source names Endeïs’ father, the Megarian version of Sciron (Skeiron) need not be any less legitimate. First, the two are virtually “doublets” of each other: “The difference between the two names amounts to an initial sigma alternating with an initial aspiration. These two sounds have an equivalence in Greek” (Wickersham 1991: 20). Second, if we cannot assign priority to one version based on the surviving evidence, certainly most Greeks would not as well, even though the Megarians lost the war of Homeric verse. In the end, this intersection of panhellenic and local myth is reminiscent of the adjustments to panhellenic stemmas that were commonly made in the context of kinship diplomacy in the hellenistic period, as we shall see later.

15. Wickersham 1991: 18–21; cf. Figueira 1985a: 120.

16. Plato Hipparc. 228b; Plut. Sol. 10.2; Strabo 9.1.22; Paus. 1.23.7, 1.33.1.

17. Lewis 1963: 26–27; Whitehead 1986: 11n.30, 24n.83.

18. Hdt. 6.35; cf. Pherecydes FGrH 3 F. 2. This was a typical example of using myth to enhance the nobility of an aristocratic family. The mythopoeic manipulations of the Philaid clan are examined in detail by Thomas 1989: 161–173.

19. Alcibiades also claimed Aeacid descent, citing Eurysaces as his ancestor (Plut. Alc. 1; Plato Alc. 1.121a). I am not aware, however, of any evidence that Alcibiades’ ancestors made this claim in the sixth century.

20. The same can be said for Cnidus, Cythera, Gortyn, Lyctus, Polyrrhenia, Croton, and Locri, as well as Cyrene, by extension through its metropolis Thera. See Malkin 1994: 8.

21. Hdt. 4.145–148, 4.150.

22. The main source is the poem Alexandra by Pseudo-Lycophron (early second century BCE), who may have been drawing from Timaeus. The foundation oracle of Taras is given by Antiochus of Syracuse (FGrH 555 F. 13 = Strabo 6.3.2). See further Malkin 1994: 57–64.

23. Based on Graham’s theory that “when colony and mother city were near to each other their relations were sometimes so close that the colony could almost be called an extension of the founding state” (1983: 96).

24. As Malkin (1994: 205–206) has pointed out, the oracles spoke only of the Heraclid right of possession of this region. Antichares himself applied them to Dorieus and, further, made them out as oracles sanctioning a new colony.

25. Assuming Phoenicians and Carthaginians are distinct in this case. Hdt. 5.46: Phoenicians and Egestans; Diodorus 4.23.3: Carthaginians; Pausanias 3.16.5: Egestans. See further Graham 1982: 189.

27. That source was Timaeus of Tauromenium (Sicily), writing in the third century BCE. See Pareti 1920: 26–27; Malkin 1994: 212.

28. Diod. 4.23.2–3.

29. Dunbabin 1948: 330; Malkin 1994: 206–209.

30. FGrH 1 FF. 71–72, 76–77; Dunbabin 1948: 300; Malkin 1994: 210–211.

31. Diod. 5.9; Paus. 10.11.3.

32. Thus Pareti 1920: 26–27.

33. Martin 1979: 12; Malkin 1994: 213–217. Alexander would follow this tradition of associating Heracles and Melcart at Tyre; a few years later certain facets of Indra may have suggested the prior presence of Dionysus to the Macedonians in India.

34. Cartledge 2002: 255.

35. Norlin 1928: 344; Mossé 1953: 32–33; Baynes 1960: 160.

36. Kennedy 1963: 197–203; Too 1995: 61–67.

37. Too 1995: 72; contra Kennedy 1963: 197. The rhetorical nature of this section of the Panathenaicus is also stressed by Gray 1994: 228–229, 238–242, 261–262.

38. Isoc. 12.177–181. Given the date of composition (342–399), Tigerstedt (1965: 187) took this passage at face value to mean that Isocrates, who had spent decades hoping for a panhellenic campaign against the Persians and for a time considered Sparta to be the possible champion in that cause, now pinned his hopes elsewhere in light of Sparta’s decline.

39. Homer Il. 11.690–695.

42. Soph. Ajax 1283, cf. scholia at 1285; Eur. F. 1083 Nauck; Strabo 8.5.6.

43. That includes Plato (Laws 683d) and Ephorus (FGrH 70, FF. 15–18), who may have been the source for Apollodorus (Bibl. 2.8.4–5) and the incomplete account of Diodorus (note 4.57–58, though not relevant to Messenia), as Tigerstedt argues (1965: 33 with n.147). Tigerstedt also puts Pausanias in this category. Ephorus may well have been a source for any number of the relevant sections (1.41.2, 2.18.7–9, 3.1.5–6, 4.3.4–8, 5.3.5–7, and 8.5.1). Section 2.18.7 has details that were important for Archidamus’ case. Section 4.3.4–8 also deals specifically with the Messenian part of the Return, and local myths may have also (or exclusively) been Pausanias’ source there, especially as he diverges from the other accounts somewhat (see next note).

44. Pausanias’ version has an interesting variation. In his description of Sparta’s (and Argos’) role in the recovery of Messenia following the murder of Cresphontes, the main protagonist is Aepytus, son of Cresphontes. The role of the other Heraclid kings is diminished, for they merely help him recover his own land. This Aepytus is so beloved by the people that his house henceforth becomes known as the Aepytid (4.3.4–8). Though a slight variation, it produces a different basis for Spartan legitimacy: as noted above, in Archidamus’ version, the link between Laconia and Messenia is based on a shared heritage; it looks back into the past, to Heracles and the Heracleidae. Pausanias’ account would have provided evidence of kinship between the peoples (or at least the leaders) of the two regions in the present; stemmas could have been produced showing the royal houses of the two poleis, their origins among the Heracleidae, and their descent into the present. Archidamus does not make this kind of argument, nor could he have. There had been no Aepytids for the centuries that Messenia was a Spartan province, assuming there had ever been Aepytids. The last one of note was supposedly Aristomenes, who had fought the Spartans in the Second Messenian War (Paus. 4.15.4) and to whom Epaminondas offered a sacrifice as he prepared to build the city of Messene (Paus. 4.27.6). If Archidamus was familiar with Pausanias’ sources, he chose to ignore another interesting detail: at 4.3.6, Pausanias says that the Messenian people (as opposed to the nobles who eventually murdered the king) had accepted the rule of Cresphontes, preferring it to the house of Neleus 4.3.6). Under normal circumstances, that would strengthen a case for legitimacy, but given the Spartans’ utter contempt for the Messenian people themselves, Archidamus had no use for such an argument. Finally, we have the likelihood that the Aepytid tradition hardly predates Archidamus’ speech anyway.

45. Thuc. 3.92. See further Malkin 1994: 219–235. Heracles was strongly associated with the original Trachis, and his son Hyllus was adopted into the Dorian royal family.

CHAPTER 5

1. Fredricksmeyer 1990: 304. As a requirement of Macedonian society, the king would demonstrate military prowess, bestow benefactions on nobles, and have consultations with the council (as Agamemnon does in the Iliad). On the importance of honor to Alexander, in both Homeric and Macedonian contexts, see Roisman 2003, esp. 282–289. On the influence of Homer on Alexander, see Edmunds 1971: 372–374; Badian 1982: 48n.43; Fredricksmeyer 1990: 304–305. On Alexander’s rivalry with Philip, see Bosworth 1988a: 6–16; Fredricksmeyer 1990: 308–314; Worthington 2003a: 92–94 and 2004: 299–303.

2. The bibliography for Alexander’s alleged conception of the “unity of mankind” is vast. The debate began with Tarn’s idealistic portrayal (1948 [Vol. II]: 399–449), which received corrective responses from Badian 1958; Thomas 1968; Bosworth 1980. Worthington (2004: 246) tears down Tarn’s vision by showing how “pragmatic” Alexander’s racial integration in the army and administration was.

3. E.g., at 3.3.1 and 5.2.5.

4. The background on Greek and Macedonian perceptions of Macedonian identity, with emphasis on how myth was used to explain it, is discussed in more detail in Appendix Two.

5. E.g., was Heracles’ siege of Aornus a Macedonian fabrication, as Eratosthenes charged (Arr. 4.28.1–2; Strabo 15.1.8–9), and likewise the journey of Dionysus to India (Arr.5.3.4; Strabo 15.1.7–8)? Also alleged was that Alexander’s flatterers moved the Caucasus further east and claimed to have found the cave where Heracles had released Prometheus (Arr.5.3.2–3; Strabo 15.1.8). This is the context for the kinship diplomacy with the Nysaeans, the Oxydracae, and the Sibi in India.

6. Green 1991: 159.

7. Polyaen. Strat. 4.3.23.

9. In transitu hortatus Thessalos fuerat beneficiorumque Philippi patris maternaeque suae cum his ab Aeacidarum gente necessitudinis admonuerat, 11.3.1.

10. E.g., Hdt. 8.137–139; Thuc. 2.99.3; Isoc. 5.105–108, 5.127; Arr. 4.11.6; Diod. 17.4.1; Plut. Alex. 2.1; Livy 32.22.11.

11. Homer Il. 2.678–679; Apollod. Epit. 3.13; Strabo 14.2.6.

12. Strabo 9.5.23.

14. Yet another version was known to Diodorus, who has a Thessalus son of Jason and Medea reclaim the throne of Iolcus (in Thessaly) after the death of Pelias’ son Acastus and name the Thessalians after himself (4.55.2). In Fragment 7 of Book 7, Diodorus notes that he is aware of other versions of how the Thessalians got their name. See also Vell. Pat.1.3.1–2.

15. Hammond 1967: 447–456, 1972: 439, 1989: 37.

16. From Pherecydes FGrH 3 F. 78 comes the detail that Heracles killed the king of Cos, Eurypylus, and later had a son named Thessalus through Chalciope, the king’s daughter. Cf. Apollod. Bibl. 2.7.1, 2.7.8. See also Van der Valk 1958: 117–131; Gantz 1996: 444–445. Recall that the Coan contingent in the Catalogue of Ships was under the command of Thessalus’ sons.

17. Arist. FF. 497, 498 Rose; Suda s.v. Aleuadai; Sch. Ap. Rhod. 3.1090; Sch. Pind. Pyth. 10.5; Plut. de frat. am. 21 = Mor. 492; Ael. H. An. 8.11. See Larsen 1968: 17; Helly 1995: 120.

18. See also Plut. Alex. 2.1; Curt. 4.6.29.

19. The story goes at least as far back as Agias’ Nostoi, which was summarized by Proclus in his Chrestomathia. See Argument 4 = West 2003: 157. Later sources: Pindar Nem. 4.51–53, 7.34–40; Paean 6.100–120; Hellan. FGrH 4 F. 84 (= Dion. Hal. 1.72.2); Eur. Androm. 1243–1250; Arist. Pol. 1285b. A scholion at Homer’s Odyssey 3.188, citing Eratosthenes, explains that Molossus was the ancestor of the Molossian kings. See also Eust. Od. p. 1463. On Molossus himself, see Apollod. Epit. 6.12; Paus. 1.11.1. On the Molossians, see further Hammond 1967: 383–386; Malkin 2001: 202. For a full discussion of the sources on Neoptolemus’ return “home,” whether to Epirus or Thessaly, see Gantz 1996: 687–690.

20. Apollod. Epit. 6.13. Cf. Homer Od. 3.188, 4.5–9, which notes that Neoptolemus goes straight back to Phthia after the Trojan War, where he will take up the throne and marry Menelaus’ daughter Hermione.

22. Arr. 1.12.1. Cf. Plut. Alex. 15.4; Diod. 17.17.3; Justin 11.5.12; Aelian VH 12.7.

24. Bosworth 1988a: 39.

25. Strabo 14.4.2; SEG XXXIV.282. Stroud (1984: 199–201) renders the relevant section of lines 4–5 as

26. Arr. 1.26.2–3. See Bosworth 1988a: 255.

27. Arr. 1.26.5–27.4.

28. But it was not the entire League Council that had made this decision. The representatives of the league who happened to be with Alexander were from Thespiae, Plataea, and Orchomenus, all Boeotian states that, along with Phocis, felt enormous animosity toward Thebes. See Justin 11.3.8–9; Diod. 17.14; Arr. 1.8.8; Plut. Alex. 11.5. Incidentally, Justin adds that the Boeotians used myth to bolster their characterization of Thebes as a wicked city (11.3.11). Alexander knew Thebes’ destruction would be the outcome, manipulating the letter of the law for his own ends. See further Worthington 2003b: 68 and 2004: 61.

29. Justin 11.4.5–8. Along with Diodorus, Curtius, and the Metz Epitome, Justin is usually said to fall within the so-called vulgate tradition, which stemmed from Cleitarchus for the most part. Cleitarchus’ twelve-book history of Alexander (c. 310 BCE) was enormously popular in the hellenistic period. This tradition stands in contrast to the more sober and reliable “court” tradition of Arrian, whose sources were closer to Alexander. But this is an oversimplification, as our later sources each clearly used a variety of primary sources, breaking the dichotomy somewhat. See further Baynham 2003: 21.

30. Stoneman 1991: 8–11 and 2008: 2–3.

31. Alex. Rom. 1.46.

32. Soli’s Argive origins are acknowledged but not elaborated upon in Polyb. 21.24.11 and Livy 37.56.7. Cf. Strabo 14.5.8.

33. Line 7: According to Stroud, “These privileges for the people of Soloi were also no doubt the topic of an earlier Argive decree which may have closely resembled the present document. If we can believe Diogenes Laertius (1.51) the ethnic in line 7 is that of the Kilikian Soloi and not the homonymous city on the north coast of Kypros” (1984: 201 and n.24).

34. Strabo 14.5.16; cf. Apollod. Epit. 6.19.

35. Arr. 2.5.5; Curt. 3.7.2–3.

37. Bosworth 1988a: 58.

38. Arrian 2.16 differentiated them, and Brundage 1958 provides evidence of multiple figures with similar characteristics, of whom one was the Tyrian Heracles and another, the Argive.

39. Arr. 2.16.7–8; Diod. 17.40.2; Curt. 4.2.4; Justin 11.10.10.

40. Of extant sources, the festival is only mentioned by Curtius 4.2.10. See further Bosworth 1988a: 65; Green 1991: 248.

41. Bosworth 1988a: 65; Worthington 2004: 106–107.

42. Curt. 4.2.3, called here Hercules, of course.

43. Arr. 2.24.5–6; Diod. 17.46.4–6; Curt. 4.4.12–18.

44. The main sources are Arr. 3.3–4; Diod. 17.49.2–51.4; Plut. Alex. 26.6–27.6; Curt.4.7.6–32; Justin 11.11.2–12. On the role of Siwah in Alexander’s claims to divinity, see Bosworth 1977; Kienast 1988; Fredricksmeyer 2003: 270–274; Worthington 2004: 116–117, 278–279.

45. Most notably, Herodotus (2.50.1) claimed that most of the Greek gods were Egyptian in origin.

46.

47. Diod. 17.49.2; Curt. 4.7.1. Arrian (3.1.2) limits Alexander’s warm reception to the Persian satrap Mazaces.

48. See especially Hdt. 7.61, 7.150; Aesch. Per. 79–80, 144–146, 155, 185–187; Hellan. FGrH 4 FF. 59–60.

49. Stateira: Arr. 7.4.4; Diod. 17.107.6; Plut. Alex. 70.3. Parysatis: Arr. 7.4.4; Curt. 4.10.2.

50. Hammond 1986: 79–80; Fredricksmeyer 2000: 139–143; Brosius 2003: 171–172.

51. Balsdon 1966: 187–198; Bosworth 1980; Hamilton 1988; Brosius 2003: 173–179; Worthington 2004: 140–142, 156–157.

52. Brosius 2003: 179–181; cf. Badian 1996: 20.

53. Deliberate: Arr. 3.18.11; Strabo 15.3.6. Drunken accident: Diod. 17.72; Curt. 5.7.1–11. Plutarch (Alex. 38) somewhat combines the two by suggesting that the Macedonians, under the influence of an Athenian courtesan named Thais, should send a message to Greece, which they proceeded to do, albeit in a drunken stupor.

54. O’Brien (1992: 109–110) holds to the view that the fire was not premeditated. Contrary interpretations are many. Green (1991: 320) argues that the Persian magi (priests) angered Alexander by not holding the New Year’s festival, in which he would have been formally recognized as Great King. Brosius (2003: 184–185) acknowledges the motivation ascribed by Arrian but also points to the symbolic nature of Persepolis as the focal point of the satrapal system. Worthington (2004: 150–151) sees the timing of the complex’s destruction as related to Agis’ war in Greece, which threatened the stability of the Greek world. Whether planned from the start or an opportunity that the destruction opened up, Alexander wanted to undermine support for Agis, who was fighting against the Greeks’ great avenger. Fredricksmeyer (2000: 147–150 and 2003: 259–260), however, argues that Persepolis was not as well known to the Greeks as Susa and thus less useful as a symbol of hellenic revenge. Rather, Alexander wanted to reinforce his disassociation from Persia’s Avestan religion, the religion of the Achaemenids, the focal point of which was Persepolis. Having consulted E. F. Schmidt’s excavation reports on Persepolis, Sancisi-Weerdenburg (1993: 184–185) concludes that the original aim of the fire may have been the contents of the palace complex rather than the buildings themselves. Alexander, knowing the Achaemenid kings’ reputation for establishing political bonds through largesse, wanted to remove precious items that local potentates might try to use to increase their influence.

55. This detail is found only in Plutarch and Curtius. See next note.

56. Arr. 5.1.3–6, Ind. 1.5; Curt. 8.10.7–12; Plut Alex. 58.4–7; Justin 12.7.6.

58. Arr. 5.2.2–7, Ind. 5.9; Curtius 8.10.13–17; Justin 12.7.7–8.

59. Bosworth 1996b: 150. Compare with Hammond (1993: 248–251), who thinks the difference of modes indicates that Arrian is using different sources. In the end, both Hammond’s and Bosworth’s explanations amount to the same thing, that Arrian is more skeptical of the information provided by the legomenon, the second-hand reporting of less reliable sources (the myth of Dionysus in Indian Nysa), than of the facts likely to have been presented by Ptolemy (the particulars of the visit) and Aristobulus (Alexander’s desire to believe Dionysus had been in this region).

60.

61. Ind. 5.9–13, 6.1. This judgment applies to the Sibi (or Sibae) as well (Ind. 5.12–13). See further below. For a general discussion of Arrian’s attitudes on earlier geographical treatments of India, see Stadter 1980: 115–132.

62. Bosworth (1988b: 70) has noted that Arrian, in Herodotean fashion, tended to present even dubious claims (e.g., mythological) without commitment, letting his reader decide on their veracity. Invoking the divine is certainly a good way to clear one’s conscience when presenting such material.

63. On Scylax’s and Ctesias’ accounts of India, see Romm 1992: 84–88.

64. Branchidae: Curt. 7.5.28; Strabo 11.11.4, 14.1.5. Also covered in the missing section of Diodorus Book 17. Greeks at Barca: Hdt. 4.204.

65. In general, see Karttunen 1989: 55–57.

66. Bosworth (1996a: 122 and 1996b: 151–154) has argued that the Nysaeans did in fact invoke Dionysus, albeit after some coaching by Greeks. On Macedonian invention: see Anspach 1901: 21; Nock 1928; Goukowski 1981: 32. Schachermeyr (1973: 411) implies an Indian invention but chooses not to venture an explanation, focusing instead on how Alexander, driven by his pothos, took advantage of the town’s Dionysian identity. Edmunds 1971: 377– 378 is inconclusive.

67. O’Brien 1980: 86–87 and 1992: 13; Fredricksmeyer 2003: 264.

68. O’Brien 1980: 90–91 and 1992: 6–8, 102–104.

69. Thebes: Arr. 2.15.2–3; Plut. Alex. 13.4. Murder of Cleitus: Arr. 4.9.5.

70. Curt. 7.9.15; Metz Epit. 12. The rarity of ivy in the interior of Asia is noted by Theophrastus Hist. Pl. 4.4.1. See further Goukowski 1981: 29; Bosworth 1996a: 120 and 1996b: 146–147.

71. On Alexander’s alleged desire for deification, see especially Balsdon 1966; Edmunds 1971; Fredricksmeyer 1979 and 2003; Badian 1981 and 1996; Bosworth 1988a: 278–290 and 1996; Cawkwell 1994; Worthington 2004: 273–283. Berve (1926: 94) sees the promotion of Dionysus in India in connection with this desire. Contra Nock 1928: 25.

72. It bears noting, however, as Nock did many decades ago, that the itinerary Euripides describes has Dionysus traveling from east to west. See Nock 1928: 25.

73. As far as I can tell, no place names in the modern areas of Nuristan where one can still find the famous ivy (namely, at Wama, Kurder, and in the Waigal Valley) record any memory of ancient “Nysa.” See further Edelberg 1965: 195.

74. “Nysa,” usually the mountain on which Dionysus was reared rather than a town, is abundantly attested in the ancient sources, e.g., Homer Il. 6.132; HH Dion. 8; Hdt. 2.146, 3.97; Diod. 3.64–67; Stephanus of Byzantium and Hesychius (s.v. Nusa). But the usage of the name has undergone an additional transformation: not the place name of Dionysus’ upbringing or birth but a town founded by the god.

76. Apollod. Bibl. 1.8.1; Satyrus FGrH 631 F. 1; Hyg. Fab. 129; POxy 2465, col. 2.2–11. Satyrus specifically links the Argeads to this story. Nock (1928: 25–26) suggested a Ptolemaic ruse to link the Macedonian dynasty of Egypt with the Argeads and their Temenid forebears.

77. See further Bosworth 1996a: 125–126 and n.128.

78. Arr. 4.22.6; Diod. 17.86.4–7; Curt. 8.12.4–10; Plut. Alex. 59.1–3. Taxiles: Arr. 5.18.7. See Bosworth 1996b: 152–153.

79. tertium Iove genitum, Curt. 8.10.1.

80. Stadter 1980: 84; Bosworth 1995: 199.

81. On Cleitarchus, see Pearson 1960: 212–242; Hammond 1993: 328–329. On Curtius 8.10.11–12 and Justin 12.7.6, see Hammond 1983: 148 and 104 respectively.

82. FGrH 125 F. 17; cf. Hammond 1993: 250. On Chares’ reputation, see Hammond 1993: 327–328.

83. Strabo 15.1.7, 15.1.9.

84. Bosworth 1996a: 126.

86. On the possibility of Indra, Edelberg (1965: 196) notes that it is reasonable “that the people whom Alexander met with at the ‘mountain of Meros’ were the cultural forefathers of the Kafirs, and that the wine-cult there thus goes back to before 326 B.C. But the forefathers of the ‘people of Nysa’ may well have been soma-drinkers, and the connection between Indra and that intoxicating drink would seem almost to point in that direction.” Cf. Goukowsky 1981: 27. Shiva’s attributes involve music and dance and for that reason could have suggested Dionysus to the Greeks, as suggested by Karttunen 1989: 214–215.

87. Nock (1928: 29–30) argues that writers beginning with Cleitarchus were serving an agenda of the Ptolemies of Egypt, who promoted the cult of Dionysus and likewise sought to strengthen their connection to Alexander.

88. Diod. 17.96.1–3; Curt. 9.4.1–3; Justin 12.9.2.

89. Strabo 15.1.8. In fact, ancient Indians did brand cattle, and Krishna was said to wield a club. See Stein 1931: 303–304.

90. Arr. 6.14.2.

91. Bosworth 1996a: 164–165.

92. Strabo 15.1.8. Strabo mentions “vines” () rather than “ivy” (), the term used by Arrian and presumably Theophrastus, if the emendations to the latter are correct.

93. Arr. 6.4.3, 6.14.2.

94. Lowell Edmunds (1971: 363) divides Alexander’s campaign into two phases: a “Graeco-Macedonian phase” and a “heroic phase.” The former he extends to Alexander’s execution of Philotas and subsequently to that of his father Parmenion in 330. Worthington (2004: 278) sees Alexander’s visit to Siwah as “the real turning point in his quest for divine status.”

95. Arr. 5.5.3; cf. Strabo 11.6.4.

96. Although in the case of Salamis, we know the Athenians acknowledged a genos of Salaminios, and the inscription IG I³ 1 gives information about Athenian settlement of the island.

CHAPTER 6

1. The nature of democratia in the hellenistic world, however, is very complicated. Among the evidence Rhodes looked at was the authorship of decrees. Was the proposer an individual making a motion within the ecclesia, or perhaps a citizen speaking as a member of the boule, or perhaps a board of prytaneis selected along more oligarchical lines? Nonetheless, his analysis of Sherwin-White’s “three basic criteria of Greek democracy” yielded the conclusion that “most Greek states were indeed formally democratic in the hellenistic period” (Rhodes and Lewis 1997: 533). These criteria, on which see Sherwin-White 1978: 176, were no property qualification to limit the franchise, a sovereign assembly, and popularly elected magistrates. Of these, Rhodes found the last two criteria to apply to most hellenistic states but only scant evidence about property qualification, which at any rate would, in some cases, be less rigid for the assembly than for the council and other offices. See also Shipley 2000: 35–36; Grieb 2008: 13–26.

2. As we noted in Chapter One, Finkelberg (2005: 28–29) argues that the panhellenic stemma of Hellen and his sons provided a stable framework for the paths taken by local charter myths to connect the local community to the panhellenic. We can imagine how leading citizens in hellenistic cities determined those paths not only for the sake of their community’s identity but to facilitate putative links of kinship with others. For further consideration of how local conditions influenced this sort of mythopoesis, see Fowler 1998: 3–5; Kühr 2006: 16–18; and Clarke 2008: 202–203.

3. The “standardized process” in the hellenistic world, to use Shipley’s expression, involved proposals from magistrates, from within the boule, or from within the ecclesia itself that were then made legal by the ecclesia in those cities where some form of participatory democracy was in place. See Shipley 2000: 35.

4. Referring to an honorific document for an eminent citizen named Mokazis, inscribed on a stele in Tarseia in Bithynia in the second century BCE, John Ma explains, “that it reflects … the dialectical relation between city and elite and shows how the city retained a monopoly on the granting of honor, and hence remained an important venue for the elite’s self-imagination as a civic elite, as opposed to a nobility of birth, wealth, or leisure” (2000: 110, Ma’s italics).

5. C. P. Jones 1999: 60; Lücke 2000: 22–23. This was, in fact, the second of two series. The first dates to the last decade of the third century. These inscriptions are discussed by Elwyn 1991: 218–246; Curty 1995: 89–106; and Rigsby 1996: 280–325.

6. This decree and its companion piece IC I.viii.11 are not strictly grants of asylia to Teos but merely celebrate the poetic genius of Menecles.

7. Chaniotis 1988: 348–349; Erskine 2002: 106.

8. As in the more general discussion of the Greek world at this time, the degree of actual democratization in Crete in the hellenistic period has been a matter of some debate. Effenterre (1948: 161–172) suggested a movement toward democracy away from the classical-era aristocratic systems of the Cretan states, an assessment based partly on Polybius 6.46.4, which speaks of Cretan magistrates elected on a “democratic system” ( ). Willetts (1955: 170–191) was critical of Effenterre’s interpretation, noting for instance that Polybius was merely comparing the quasi-democratic magistracies of Crete to the hereditary offices of Sparta (see esp. pp. 178–179). Rhodes notes a lack of emphasis on democratic language in Cretan decrees (Rhodes and Lewis 1997: 312). In any case, whether in an oligarchical or a democratic system, it was the decision-makers of Crete who were receptive to the Teans’ overtures on the basis of kinship myth.

9. Elwyn 1991: 244; Curty 1995: 106; C. P. Jones 1999: 60; Lücke 2000: 21–23.

10. Paus. 7.3.6; Strabo 14.1.3. Elwyn (1991: 242) does mention these writers in connection with a grant of asylia to Teos by the Athamanes of Thessaly, but we are looking for a Cretan context.

11. It bears recalling that not every claim of kinship is based on myth. Historical colonization accounts for some instances in the epigraphical record, as in the literary. Given the preponderance of mythological explanations for kinship, one can assume that a putative linkage is based on myth if the relationship cannot be discerned from historical circumstances.

12. For general discussion of these inscriptions, see Elwyn 1991: 139–165; Curty 1995: 117–124; Rigsby 1996: 179–185; Slater and Summa 2006; Thonemann 2007, with further bibliography at Curty 1995: 108n.68. Other requests of asylia from cities in or near southwest Asia Minor, namely, Teos and Alabanda, are also dated to the last decade of the third century. Dangers emanating from active kings, especially Philip V and Antiochus III, may have spurred this increased diplomatic activity. See further C. P. Jones 1999: 58–63. For the text of I.v. Magnesia 35, see also Chaniotis 1988: no. T5; Curty 1995: no. 46c. Background on myths involving the Magnesians on the Maeander and other Magnesians can be found in Wilamowitz-Moellendorff 1937.

13. For the text, see I.v. Magnesia 16; SIG³ 557; SEG XXXII 1147; and the following cited. Line 16 is damaged and can be filled with several equally plausible emendations, based on the number of letters. Two in particular that have been debated are (lines 16–17) by Ebert 1982: 202n.17, L. and J. Robert 1989: 53n.270, and Rigsby 1996: 188; and by Kern 1900 and Slater and Summa 2006: 284–285. The latter would mean that the contest in 221 had vegetal crowns as prizes, while the first would refer to monetary prizes, as if the upgrade between 221 and 208 was not only in scope but also from argyritic to stephanitic. Aside from various epigraphical arguments, Slater and Summa put forth that an argyritic contest in 221 makes less sense because such a competition does not need international acknowledgement. The inscription clearly refers to the Magnesians’ frustration in 221, and a stephanitic contest, whose success does require such acknowledgement, would make more sense. See Slater and Summa 2006: 283.

14. Such a restriction strikes Thonemann (2007: 154) as odd and without parallel. Instead, he proposes that lines 16–17 of I.v. Magnesia 16 read, “They were the first of those dwelling in Asia to vote in favour of establishing a stephanitic contest” (2007: 155, Thonemann’s italics), giving Magnesia pride of priority over other Asian cities, especially nearby rival Miletus, on which see Thonemann 2007: 159–160.

15. See further Slater and Summa 2006: 287.

18. Rigsby 1996: 212.

19. West 1985: 54.

20. Strabo 8.7.1; cf. Hdt. 7.176.4. Moreover, Strabo is critical of Homer at 9.5.21. His basic point is that Homer has assigned the area of Peneus and Pelion to the Magnetes when he had previously (at lines 734 and 738) had others (albeit not Aeolians) inhabiting these regions. His criticism is perhaps disingenuous because at 8.7.1 Strabo seems to regard this region as Aeolian. Moreover, this allusion to the Magnetes at 756–758 is unique in Homer, prompting Kirk (1985: 237) to question why the poet would make the geographical setting of this part of the Catalogue problematic by introducing this contingent at all.

21. J. M. Hall 2002: 165–171.

22. The chronology of the Ionian and Aeolian migrations of the Dark Age is virtually out of reach (Graham 1983: 2), but the foundation of Magnesia-on-the-Maeander lies in this period, possibly c. 1000 BCE (Graham 2001: 94) but in any case before the traditional time of Homer in the eighth century.

23. Eustathius (338.21) and Scholiast A on 2.756 (Erbse) produce stemmas that connect Prothous to Magnes. The scholiast also notes that Magnes is an Aeolid:

24. The question of the origins of Aeolus is somewhat more complex than that of Magnes, though only marginally problematic for my analysis of Magnes’ relationship to him. Magnes and Macedon, as agents of ethnic exclusivity, to follow J. M. Hall’s argument, served the greater purpose of delineating Aeolian identity in Thessaly. Yet something more than identity by contrast was still needed. Originally there was apparently no Aeolus to serve as eponymous ancestor to the Aeolic-speaking Thessalians. Thus he, too, may have been invented by the Thessalians as a means of anchoring their origins in myth. See further J. M. Hall 2002: 169–170. I have argued above for the possibility that it was only after the establishment of Magnesia-on-the-Maeander, Magnesia-at-Sipylus, and other cities in Asia Minor that Magnes was made son of Aeolus, an alternative patronymic to the one given in Fragment 7 of the Hesiodic corpus. Some of the earliest accounts of the Aeolian migrations from Greece, however, would seem to have been made in the East, in this case in Lesbos in the seventh century at the latest (J. M. Hall 2002: 72–74). Perhaps the figure of Aeolus himself, then, migrated from Asia Minor to Thessaly sometime before the archaic period.

25. Based on meter and the later testimony of Apollodorus, the reconstruction is accepted by Gantz and rendered by Merkelbach and West as See Apollod. Bibl. 1.9.3, 3.15.1; Gantz 1996: 167.

26. Early sources: Epig. F. 5 (Bernabé); Hellan. FGrH 4 F. 169; Pher. FGrH 3 F. 34; Nostoi F. 5 (Bernabé); cf. Paus. 10.29.6. In his characteristic fashion, Pausanias reconciles what were likely two different traditions concerning Cephalus. Whereas he was married to Clymene in the Nostoi and to Procris in the Epigonoi, Pausanias says that he was married first to the latter and then to the former. See further Gantz 1996: 182.

27. The story was subsequently treated copiously. For example, Sophocles wrote a play Procris. Note also Ovid 7.672–862; Apollod. Bibl. 3.15.1; Ant. Lib. Met. 41; and Hyg. Fab. 189. On the variants of this story, see Gantz 1996: 245–247.

28. Catalogue of Women: note F. 135; Pher. FGrH 3 F. 13b. See further Gantz 1996: 376–377.

29. In the Epigonoi, if Fragment 5 (Bernabé) is genuine, Cephalus’ role in the hunt is more prominent than in Apollodorus. Interestingly, in both accounts, he is from Athens.

30. The basis of kinship with the kings was the same as with Xanthus. The Cytenians were calling upon their Dorian heritage. Heracles was the great hero of the Dorians, and the Ptolemies, while more devoted to Dionysus, also saw themselves as descendants of Heracles (Rice 1983: 43). As for the Seleucids, the link would be through their patron god Apollo (Walbank 1993: 211), who was son of Coronis, a descendant of Dorus. The Cytenians also had Xanthus in mind when they mentioned Ptolemy, for Xanthus was subject to that king. The Ptolemaic link was yet one more tie between Xanthus and Cytenium, on top of the myriad mythological explanations discussed below. See further Bousquet 1988: 39–41; Curty 1995: 190–191; and Lücke 2000: 38–40.

The translation and the bracketed notations are those of C. P. Jones (1999: 61–62).

32. Bousquet 1988: 32.

33. Bryce 1990: 540; Bresson 1999: 100.

34. Hesiod Th. 281; Apollod. Bibl. 2.4.2.

35. Strabo 14.2.25; cf. Paus. 5.21.10.

36. Holleaux 1942: 141–157. Chrysaorian Antioch was also engaged in kinship diplomacy, certainly with the Amphictyonic League (OGIS 234) and possibly with Athens (SEG XXVIII 75). In both, asylia was granted to the city, and the civic deities Zeus Chrysaoreus and Apollo Isotimus were honored. Additionally, OGIS 234 records honors for Antiochus III. See further Robert 1973: 448–466; Pounder 1978; Bousquet 1988: 36–37; Elwyn 1991: 251–256.

37. Robert 1973: 451–453; Bousquet 1988: 37n.43.

38. Bousquet 1988: 37. See also Curty 1995: 191.

39. (lines 23–24), my translation.

40. C. P. Jones 1999: 142–143.

41. s.v. Chrysaoris.

42. Steph. Byz. s.v. Mylasa. See also Bousquet 1988: 34.

43. Again, the pattern of the father sending out his son. See further C. P. Jones 1999: 140 for a critique of Bousquet’s translation of SEG XXXVIII.1476, which presumes that Chrysaor himself led the expedition to Greece. Bousquet’s translation (1988: 35) of (line 25) is problematic because “the verb when it has a personal object, means ‘send away from home,’ ‘send to a new home,’ not ‘lead out’” (C. P. Jones 1999: 140).

44. Evidence exists, however, that Aletes’ conquest was not part of the tradition of the Return. Around the time or probably before the Argives invented the Return (see Chapter Two), an eighth-century poem, the Corinthiaca of Eumelus, apparently contained the story of Aletes. See further Salmon 1984: 52.

45. Bosquet 1988: 35.

46. Robert 1948: 5–15 (original publication) and 1960: 562–569. Text revised as SEG XXX.990, after N. F. Jones 1980: 165–166.

47. N. F. Jones 1980: 165–172; C. P. Jones: 1999: 141.

48. This observation was made by Curty (1995: 189). In his commentary on this inscription, Lücke (2000: 43) also pointed to the fluidity of Greek thinking by noting how the Cytenian envoys could take advantage of myth’s multiform nature by offering a version of Chrysaor that suited their needs.

CHAPTER 7

1. On Pausanias’ role in the Second Sophistic, see further Pretzler 2005: 236–237 and 2006: 156–157.

2. Pretzler 2006: 156–159. Moreover, in accordance with the idea that human nature has remained essentially unchanged, Pausanias embraces the notion that the achievements of great men from the heroes of the Trojan War to the last of them, the second-century BCE statesman Philopoemen, would have continued to the Periegete’s own time if the Romans had not suppressed Greek freedom. See Sidebottom 2002: 497.

3. Elsner 1992; cf. Bowie 1996: 216–217; Habicht 1998: 120–123.

4. Alcock 1996: 249–250; cf. Pretzler 2005: 237–239 and 2007: 73–75.

5. Alcock 1996: 259.

6. See, e.g., Elsner 1992: 7–10, 17–18; Habicht 1998: 104–105, 134–135; Pretzler 2007: 74.

7. On which, see further Habicht 1998: 134n.74.

8. Arafat 1992: 389–390, my emphasis.

9. Habicht 1998: 130–134, cf. 142–143.

10. Jost 1998: 235; Pretzler 2005: 242 and 2007: 81. A similar openness is also apparent when Pausanias acknowledges the occasions when he has faltered in his methods, as when he admits that he failed to inquire about certain details while visiting a site on which he is now writing. See Pretzler 2007: 19.

11. Jost 1998: 237.

12. Pretzler 2004: 205 and 2005: 237–238.

13. C. P. Jones 2001: 35–39.

Cf. 1.35.7–8, where Pausanias forces the truth out of Lydian guides who had claimed that certain large bones exposed on a nearby mountain belonged to the monster Geryon, as commonly believed, instead of a local hero Hyllus son of Gaea.

15. Habicht 1998: 145–146.

16. See also Pretzler 2004: 205–206.

17. I would also not align all “visitors” with the uneducated masses, as Habicht seems to—Pausanias is an obvious exception—though perhaps the majority were such.

18. Thus McInerney 1999: 136–149.

19. Recall, e.g., Leto’s status of archgetis (rather than ancestress) of the Xanthians and the problems that attend any analysis of Alexander’s would-be use of Dionysus in India. A more clear-cut example lies in a Milesian document according citizenship rights to the peoples of Crete, Milet 1.3 No. 37, in which the common ancestor of the two parties was said to be Apollo.

20. The chronology is very uncertain, as Rigsby 1996: 154–163 stresses. See also Elwyn 1991: 246–251, who delineates the two series more confidently. The Phocian decree has traditionally been dated to around 278 to 261.

23. On Tenos’ Dorian associations, see Elwyn 1991: 82. On the Ionian, Elwyn 1991: 251.

24. Thuc. 7.57.4; Hdt. 1.147.2. On Tenos and the Apatouria, see Sakellariou 1958: 46.

25. For the usual stemma of Hellen and his sons, Dorus, Aeolus, and Xuthus, see the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women, FF. 9, 10a and Apollod. Bibl. 1.7.3.

26. Discussion by Robert 1969b: 1069–1070 and Rigsby 1996: 212.

29. See further Elwyn 1991: 70.

31. See especially Gawantka 1975: 118–119; Robert 1987: 173–187; Elwyn 1991: 70–71; Curty 1995: 31–32; Habicht 1998: 66–67; C. P. Jones 1999: 53–54; Patterson 2004. Furher bibliography in Elwyn 1991: 70n.32. Robert (1987: 175–77) reviews the various attempts to identify this Heraclea before offering the interpretation that has since gained currency.

32. For bibliography, see Patterson 2004: 350n.4.

33. Robert 1987: 179, 185–186.

34. Hes. F. 10a.60–62 MW; Plato Phaedo 72c; Apollod. Bibl. 1.7.6; Paus. 5.1.3–4; Hyg. Fab. 271.

35. Patterson 2004.

37. Lafond 1997: 994.

38. Cf. Apollod. Bibl. 1.7.5, which says that Endymion led Aeolians from Thessaly and founded Elis.

39. Cf. Apollod. Bibl. 1.7.6; Strabo 8.3.33; Ephorus FGrH 70 F. 115.

40. Certainly much of the mythology dealt with in this study arose from the attempts by prominent families in the Dark Ages to promote their greatness and account for their origins, heroic of course. See further Hammond 1975: 704.

41. Strabo 8.1.2, 8.3.33, 10.3.2; Paus. 5.3.5–4.4; Apollod. Bibl. 2.8.3; Ephorus FGrH 70 FF. 115, 122.

42. Apollod. Bibl. 1.7.5; Strabo 8.1.2. Strabo, however, has his facts wrong. The Eleans spoke a dialect of West Greek, not Aeolic. On the West Greek dialects spoken in Aetolia and Elis and elsewhere, see Osborne 1996: 35–36; J. M. Hall 1997: 155.

43. West 1985: 60n.67.

44. There are problems attending Aethlius, whose patronymic is confused, either a son of Aeolus, possibly an “additional name” given to Zeus ( Paus. 5.8.2) or of Zeus unequivocally (Paus. 5.1.3; Apollod. Bibl. 1.7.2; Hes. F. 260 MW; Schol. Ap. Rhod. 4.58). See further Patterson 2004: 349–350.

45. Ephorus FGrH 70 F. 122; Strabo 10.3.2.

46. Paus. 5.1.5; Strabo 14.1.8.

47. Bean 1979: 214–215. George Bean describes his identification of this sanctuary as “very attractive,” which is as far as one can go without inscriptions or votive offerings to secure it.

48. Dain 1933: 66–73; Robert 1987: 184–185.

50. I.v. Pergamon 156 has received a good deal of attention. See Elwyn 1991: 99–100; Curty 1995: 86–87; Robert 1969a: 453–454; C. P. Jones 1999: 79–80; Lücke 2000: 92–95.

53. Lücke 2000: 93.

54. [so that the aforementioned items]

55. On the Attalids’ campaign to “establish their cultural credentials” in the Greek world, in which Telephus played an important role, see especially Gruen 2000: 17–23. Also important in this respect is the Telephus Frieze on the Great Altar at Pergamum, on which see Hansen 1971: 340–347 and Heres 1997.

56. The latter part of the sentence at lines 17–24 reads: “These things have been inscribed on a stele of white stone; the [statue of Athena], which Auge set up, was dedicated in the sacred precinct of Athena” ( (22–24). This passage seems to refer to Auge’s founding of a cult of Athena in Pergamum, to which Panel 11 of the Telephus Frieze is believed to refer (Heres 1997: 85).

57. Gruen 2000: 23, my emphasis.

58. For his victory at the beginning of his reign in 241, see Livy 38.16; Polyb. 8.41.7–8; Strabo 13.4.2.

59. Hansen 1971: 59; Gruen 2000: 17–19.

60. Extremely helpful in sorting them out is Gantz 1996: 428–431. See also Stewart 1997; Pretzler 1999: 113–114.

62. Jost 1998: 231. The motif of the abandoned infant hero found and nourished by a female animal in the wild is well known. On Telephus and the deer, see also Soph. Aleadai (F. 89 Radt); Diod. 4.33.7–12; Apollod. Bibl. 2.7.4, 3.9.1.

63. Strabo 12.8.2, 13.1.69.

65. Hdt. 9.26–27; see Chapter Two.

66. Panels 32–33, showing a Greek boarding a ship, were previously interpreted as the flight of the Achaeans after Telephus, as king of Mysia, had defeated them. Heres (1997: 177n.14) proposes rearranging the panels so that the Greeks in question are the Arcadians accompanying Telephus on his voyage.

67. Heres 1997: 85–89.

68. See, e.g., Soph. Aleadai (F. 89 Radt); Eur. Telephus (F. 17 Page); Arist. Poet. 1460a (on a tragedy called The Mysians by either Sophocles or Aeschylus); Diod. 4.33.7–12; Apollod. Bibl. 2.7.4, 3.9.1; Hyg. Fab. 99, 100; Aelian NA 3.47.

69. The twelve members of the league, according to Herodotus (1.142–148), were Chios, Ephesus, Erythrae, Clazomenae, Colophon, Lebedus, Miletus, Myus, Phocaea, Priene, Samos, and Teos. On the religious nature of the league, see further Gorman 2001: 124–126.

70. In all likelihood, the question of origins is an oversimplification, as innovations could have taken place on both sides of the Aegean. There are essentially two issues: the origin of Ionian identity (whether or not it lay in Athens) and the origin of the idea that the Ionians were immigrants from Athens (again, an Athenian invention?). Relevant ancient sources include Pher. FGrH 3 F. 155 (= Strabo 14.1.3); Hellan. FGrH 4 F. 125 (= Sch. Plato Symp. 208d); Hdt. 1.146, 5.65.3; Thuc. 7.57.2; Paus. 2.18.9, 7.1.1–2.6, 7.3.5, 7.4.2; Arist. Ath. Pol. 5; Eph. FGrH 70 F. 127 (= Strabo 14.1.6); Ael. VH 8.5; Marm. Par. FGrH 239 F 27; Polyb. 16.12.1–2; Polyaen. 8.35; Callim. Art. 225. For useful surveys of the rich source tradition, see Sakellariou 1958: 21–29 and Huxley 1966: 25–30. For scholarly discussions of the Ionian migration and its relation to Ionian and Athenian identity, see Roebuck 1955: 35; Cook 1962: 24; Connor 1993: 196–197; J. M. Hall 1997: 51–52 and 2002: 68–70; Gorman 2001: 37–41. Among the pieces of evidence for assessing the beginnings of Ionian identity is the Panionion, the name of the twelve cities’ league centered on the shrine of Poseidon Heliconius at Mycale, on which see Shipley 1987: 29–31 and J. M. Hall 2002: 67–68. Another piece may lie in a festival called the Apatouria, which Herodotus said only true Ionians celebrated (1.147). See further Huxley 1966: 31. On the role of the Peisistratids in promoting Neleus as an important Ionian founder, see Shapiro 1983: 89, 94 and Lavelle 2005: 24–25; cf. Brommer 1957: 161.

71. On Neleus, see further below. Miletus: Sch. Ap. Rhod. 1.185; Aristocritus of Miletus (FGrH 493 F. 3); Herodorus of Heraclea (FGrH 31 F. 45). Sarpedon: Eph. FGrH 70 F. 127 = Strabo 14.1.6. Further discussion by Gorman 2001: 18–20.

72. The sources for all variants involving a Cretan origin are surveyed by Sakellariou 1958: 362–367.

73. Apollod. Bibl. 3.1.2; Ant. Lib. Met. 30, preserving Nic. Met. 2. See Curty 1995: 140; C. P. Jones 1999: 55.

75. Paus. 7.2.6; cf. Hdt. 9.97.

76. However, Gorman 2001: 32, citing Duris (FGrH 76 F. 64), suggests that Herodotus “probably got his information from a history of the Neleids and the colonization of Ionia written in six thousand verses by Panyassis of Halikarnassos, Herodotos’ own uncle or cousin.”

77. Phygela: StV III 453, on which see Elwyn 1991: 79–80. Mylasa: StV III 539, on which see Elwyn 1991: 87–90.

78. We have good reason to believe that Strabo was relaying a local charter myth from Phygela. That he visited it is very likely, given his detailed descriptions of such nearby locations as Ephesus, Mylasa, Alabanda, and Magnesia-on-the-Maeander. See further Dueck 2000: 22–24. On Strabo as a source of local myth, see Patterson 2010.

79. SEG IV.513; cf. Huxley 1966: 27.

80. See J. M. Hall 2002: 58–65.

81. Phygela was not a member of the Ionian League (Huxley 1966: 27). Given the local myth recorded by Strabo and the tribal name Agamemnonis, its Ionian identity may have been somewhat muted.

82. Steph. Byz. s.v. Mylasa.

83. According to Apollonius of Rhodes, Ancaeus was one of the Argonauts (2.865–867).

84. Paus. 7.4.1.

85. Cf. Hdt. 1.171; Paus. 7.2.8.

86. For discussion of this inscription, see Gawantka 1975: 55–57; Elwyn 1991: 91–92.

87. Curty 1995: 63.

88. See further Dowden 1992: 75.

89. Elwyn 1991: 92.

90. Paus. 10.38.4; Hom. Il. 24.544; HH Ap. 3.37.

91. Diod. 5.81.7–8; Hes. F. 184 MW.

92. For Chios’ local foundation story, see Pausanias (7.4.8–9), who cites Ion.

93. Given at Habicht 1958: 241–252. See also Elwyn 1991: 76–77; Curty 1995: 61–63.

very similar to the one expressing the links, consanguineous and otherwise, between Samos and Magnesia in I.v. Magnesia 103. This state of affairs in inscriptions after c. 240 BCE is what led Musti (1963: 229, 233–235) to conclude that such language precluded genuine belief in the kinship. I believe, however, it merely reflects the idiom of diplomacy in the epigraphical record.

95. On which see Cohen 1978: 10, 15n.51. This was one of many foundations made by Seleucus I and Antiochus I throughout Asia Minor and Syria.

96. Habicht 1958: 251–252.

97. Elwyn 1991: 77.

98. Hellan. FGrH 4 F. 74; Steph. Byz. s.v. Makedonia.

99. Curty 1995: 63.

100. Strabo 13.4.15; Robert 1973: 446n.73.

101. Discussion of this inscription by Elwyn 1991: 68–69; Curty 1995: 127–128; and Lücke 2000: 97–101.

102. See Elwyn 1991: 69n.30. Priene is notable for having outstanding physical remains dated to the fourth century BCE, while evidence for the supposed earlier city cannot be found. See further Tomlinson 1992: 85–86; Cohen 1996: 187–188.

103. lines 5–6.

104. Paus. 7.2.10; Strabo 14.1.3; cf. Hellan. FGrH 4 F. 101. This accords with the picture of a migration to Ionia that is far more complicated than one involving Athens as the sole metropolis. In his description of the varied origins of the famous Twelve Cities, in addition to Ionians, Herodotus mentions Abantes, Minyans, Cadmeans, Dryopians, Phocians, Molossians, Dorians from Epidaurus, and Pelasgians from Arcadia, with an admixture of Carians (1.146). Note also Homer’s odd juxtaposition of Ionian and Boeotian elements at Il. 13.685. J. M. Hall (2002: 69–70) has argued that by associating them in this way, Homer, in his one reference to the Ionians, is reflecting a tradition in Asia Minor in which Boeotian origins were an important part of Ionian identity. This is part of a larger argument positing an Asiatic origin for the Ionian Migration story instead of an Athenian one.

105. Fried 2007: 10.

106. FF. 9–10 West; cf. Strabo 14.1.3–4.

CHAPTER 8

1. C. P. Jones 1999: 132–133. An exception would be cases of historical colonization. Sometimes even then, the details of personages and circumstances are invented for the sake of having a foundation narrative.

2. Aristodemus is mentioned at Aeschin. 2.19. In general, see further Adcock and Mosley 1975: 155–156.

3. Elwyn 1991: 118–119, 240–241, 288–291.

4. Elwyn 1991: 306–311. See also Erskine 2002: 104–106.

5. Lacey 1968: 15.

6. Lacey 1968: 51–83.

APPENDIX ONE

1. Thus Podlecki 1987: 4–5, 9.

2. Legon 1981: 101; Lavelle 2005: 35.

3. Plut. Sol. 8.1–3; Paus. 1.40.5; Justin 2.6–12; Diog. Laert. 1.46–47; Polyaen. Strat. 1.20.1.

4. Compare an episode recounted by Herodotus (5.20): Persian nobles, sent as a delegation by King Darius I to the Macedonian court of Amyntas, were entertaining themselves with young women at a dinner. The prince Alexander son of Amyntas replaced these women with young beardless men, who then killed all the delegates with hidden daggers. As How and Wells observe, Herodotus’ portrayal of Persian attitudes toward women is inaccurate here, allowing him to portray Persian hubris and the retribution that follows (ad loc.). This characterization makes possible the use of a familiar folkloric element.

5. Again, Herodotus, ever attuned to folkloric elements to convey meaning to his audience, provides a brief catalogue of such abductions, replete in Greek myth, at the beginning of his Histories (1.1–5).

6. Strabo (9.1.10) notes that there was much disagreement on this point in various writers.

7. Figueira 1985b: 302; Lambert 1997: 98; Taylor 1997: 21.

8. An excellent survey of these sources, with translations, can be found in Taylor 1997: 28–34.

9. Plut. Sol. 8.4–6. Aelian (VH 7.19) seems to give this version without the folkloric elements. He mentions a deception with no specifics.

10. Polyaen. Strat. 1.20.2.

11. Aen. Tact. 4.8–12; Justin 2.8.1–5; Frontin. Strat. 2.9.9.

12. Hdt. 1.59. Cf. Arist. Ath. Pol. 14.1. See Legon 1981: 137; Frost 2005: 62.

13. Figueira 1985b: 283; Lavelle 2005: 54–55.

14. Ath. Pol. 17.2.

15. As noted by many scholars. In general, see Podlecki 1987.

16. See Frost 2005: 72; Harding 2008: 52. One, however, need not assume that the one reference in Solon (specifically Androtion at 15.3) meant that Plutarch did not consult the Atthidographers with vigor for this biography as well, as when he made such vague references as “the Athenians themselves,” e.g., at 10.2.

17. A third version was given by the Megarians to Pausanias centuries later. It held that exiles called Dorycleans had settled on Salamis and later betrayed it to the Athenians (1.40.5). Little solid information can be gleaned about these Dorycleans, but see further Legon 1981: 129 and Figueira 1985b: 285–286.

18. IG I³ 1 = GHI 14.

19. Hdt. 9.53–57, 71, 85. This idea was first put forward by Beloch 1913: 312–313.

20. Figueira 1985b: 302. Sealey (1976: 146–147) made another suggestion: that the award of Salamis to Athens, coupled with the expulsion of the tyrants, was part of a Spartan plan to bring Athens into its sphere of influence, perhaps even into the Peloponnesian League.

21. Legon 1981: 138.

22. Taylor 1997: 46. The main account, of course, is Hdt. 5.66–76.

23. Legon 1981: 137.

24. Arist. Ath. Pol. 14.2; Plut. Sol. 30.4–6, D.L. 1.49.

25. Lavelle 2005: 60–64.

26. Plato Hipp. 228b.

27. Hdt. 1.64; Thuc. 3.104.2.

28. Attested at Hdt. 5.63, 5.90.

29. Lamberton 2001: 64–65, 69.

APPENDIX TWO

1. For readier acceptance of these traditions, see Dascalakis 1965: 97–146 and Hammond in Hammond and Griffith 1979: 3–14. Borza (1982 and 1990: 80–84) is more skeptical. On the ethnicity of the Macedonians, for which some of the evidence will be of concern to us, see Badian 1982; Hammond 1989: 12–15; Worthington 2004: 10 and 2008: 216–219.

2. Steph. Byz. s.v. Argeou, describing an island on the Nile near Canobus that was named after Argeas son of Macedon, from whom the Argeadae derived. The third-century CE historian Appian notes that the Argeads originally came from Argos in Orestis, northwest of Macedonia (Syr. 63).

3. Hammond and Griffith 1979: 33.

4. See especially Strabo 329 F. 11, which likely derives from Hecataeus. See Hammond 1972: 432 and 1989: 17; Hammond and Griffith 1979: 27. Hammond (1972: 432) further suggests that the Argeads, categorized here as a tribe rather than a dynasty, influenced their Macedonian neighbors when the latter adopted the name “Makednoi” (an early form of “Macedonian”) from the former.

5. Hellan. FGrH 4 F. 74; Steph. Byz. s.v. Makedonia.

6. F. 7 MW. The sixth-century date, put forward by West (1985: 136), is controversial. Janko (1982: 85–87) argued for a date closer to the time of Hesiod, on stylistic grounds. See Hirschberger 2004: 42–51 for a summary of arguments. Yet another version of Macedon’s lineage came about in the second century BCE. Theagenes (FGrH 774) called Macedon son of Lycaon, probably to cut Macedon the founder down to size after the Romans had done the same to the country. Cf. Aelian VH 10.48; Tzetzes Chil. 4.329–330. See Hammond and Griffith 1979: 34, 38.

7. West 1985: 10; Hammond 1989: 12; J. M. Hall 1997: 64 and 2002: 165–166, 170. We know the name “Makedones” is Greek and may have meant “highlanders.” See Hammond 1972: 309; Worthington 2003a: 70.

8. Thuc. 2.99.2, 2.100.2. The kings are Perdiccas I, Argaeus, Philip, Aeropus, Alcetes, Amyntas, Alexander, Perdiccas II.

9. E.g.,

10. Thomas 1989: 180. Of course, by the hellenistic period these gaps had been filled, most notably by Satyrus (FGrH 630 F. 1).

11. Smith 1999: 57–58.

12. In fact, Alexander does not appear in any of the Olympic victor lists, further suggesting that he himself may have been Herodotus’ source. See Dewald 1998: 667 (under 5.17–22). Cf. next note for less incredulous opinions about Alexander’s Olympic career.

13. Badian (1982: 34) dates his Olympic venture to 476, Alexander’s “first opportunity after the [Persian] War,” on the idea that it was part of such a philhellenic policy. Hammond (1989: 18) favors a date closer to 500 on the argument that Alexander would have been close to 50 by 476.

14. Hdt. 7.173, 8.140, 9.44–45.

15. Hdt. 5.18–21. The suggestion of Alexander’s invention of this tale was made by Burn (1962: 134). As can also be said about the Argead charter myth, this story clearly has folkloric elements, especially the ruse of men disguised as women, as we saw in one version of Solon’s capture of Salamis.

16. Hammond and Griffith 1979: 11–12. The oracle is preserved by a scholiast on Clement of Alexandria’s Exhortation to the Greeks 2.11. See Parke and Wormell 1956 (Vol. II): 93. Perdiccas also receives an oracle in which the Pythia advises him to be watchful for goats as a sign of where to found his capital (Diod. 7.16). Given its close similarity to the oracle of Caranus, one can imagine but a short hop from one version to the next when the account of Macedonia’s founding was rewritten. Parke and Wormell (1956 [Vol. I]: 64), however, join Hammond in linking the Caranus oracle to Aegae and date its invention to before the capital was moved to Pella. Therefore, they argue that the Perdiccas version postdates the Caranus to make the oracle conform to political reality.

17. Badian 1982: 45n.14. Hammond also notes the Dorian connection, describing “Caranus” as “a good Dorian name.” See Hammond and Griffith 1979: 11n.2.

18. Greenwalt 1985: 45–48. He also voices the same objections as Badian about the continued importance of Aegae.

19. Plut. Alex. 2.1. Unlike Caranus, another mythological concoction was less successful. As a promoter of hellenic culture, Archelaus invited Euripides to Pella. Euripides wrote Archelaus, a play about a son of Temenus named Archelaus. This innovation may have flattered the king, but it never took hold in the wider circles of Greek consciousness. See further Hammond and Griffith 1979: 11; Greenwalt 1985: 44.

20. In general, see Badian 1982; Hammond 1989: 19–21. Borza (1996) catalogues the evidence of distinctiveness in the sources (mostly contemporary or nearly contemporary with Alexander the Great) used by Arrian, Plutarch, Diodorus, Curtius, and Justin-Trogus.

21. E.g., Thuc. 2.80.5–7, using the term barbaroi. See also 4.124.1. Belief in the Temenid lineage: 2.99.2, 5.80.2.

22. F. 2 DK.

23. Dem. 3.24, 9.30; Isoc. 5.105–108, 5.127. On Demosthenes, see Dascalakis 1965: 256– 269. On Isocrates, see Markle 1976: 84–85; C. P. Jones 1999: 39–40.

24. Diod. 15.67.4, 16.2.2–3; Justin 6.9.7, 7.5.2; Plut. Pelop. 26.4.

25. Olympics: Justin 12.16.6; Plut. Alex. 3.5. On coins, see Hammond 1994: 114; on Argos in 338, see Ellis 1976: 204. Philip also planned to seize Ambracia, perhaps in 343/2, in western Greece and may have justified this by claiming that it had previously belonged to the Heraclids, but our only source for Heracles’ conquest of Ambracia is Speusippus’ letter to Philip (sec. 7). See further Natoli 2004: 134.

APPENDIX THREE

2. As interpreted by McInerney 1999: 136–149.

3. Hes. Theog. 1003–1005; Pind. N. 5.12–13; Diod. 4.72.6; Apollod. Bibl. 3.12.6; schol. Euripides Andr. 687; Ovid Met. 7.476–477. A full list of ancient texts is provided by Frazer in his notes to the Apollodorus Loeb at Bibl. 3.12.6.

4. Paus. 2.4.3, 2.29.3, 9.17.6, 10.1.1, 10.4.10, 10.32.10–11.

5. Müller 1855: lxxiv. This work was ascribed in the seventeenth century to the second-century BCE geographer Scymnus of Chios, an attribution later proven to be untenable. Hence, the author of this work is often referred to as Pseudo-Scymnus. See Diller 1952: 20–21.

6. Icard-Gianolio 1994: 396.

7. Hom. Od. 11.260; Eur. Antiope fragments; Ap. Rhod. 1.735–741, 4.1090; Apollod. Bibl. 3.5.5; Hyg. Fab. 7–8; Horace Epist. 1.18.41; Paus. 2.6.2, 9.17.3–4, 10.32.10–11; Asios of Samos F. 1 (Bernabé).

8. Pausanias locates the tomb of Phocus and Antiope in the Phocian region called Tithorea (9.17.3–4, 10.32.10–11). This putative tomb possibly dates back to the fifth century; indeed, McInerney places it in the archaic period as a focus of ritualistic rivalry with Boeotia. According to Pausanias, the Tithoreans tried to take dirt from the tomb of Amphion and Zethus, the founders of Thebes, and place it on the tomb of Antiope and Phocus in the spring so that crops might grow in Tithorea but not around Thebes (9.17.3). McInerney suggests that this account developed at an early stage of the development of Phocis’ identity. Fertility cults centered on the two rival pairs gave rise to a story that “became a way of expressing the rivalry between Tithorea and Thebes” (1999: 138–140). The introduction of Phocus as a new element in Antiope’s story was to account for her alienation from her children. See further below.

10. Robert 1960: 81. One of the questions Robert was grappling with was whether Pausanias’ Tronis should be equated with Plutarch’s Patronis (Sulla 15), thereby placing Tronis at Hagia Marina north of Daulis, whose identification with Patronis is not in doubt, or in a location south of Daulis. Associating the heroon at Paus. 10.4.10 with the Phocicon lends credence to the southern location. See also McInerney 1999: 284–286.

11. McInerney 1999: 62.

12. See Paus. 2.4.3, 2.29.3.

13. See McInerney 1999: 136–141, 147–149.

14. French and Vanderpool 1963: 224–225. In the end, their identification can be no more than plausible, as is true of any other interpretation, given the scant remains. McInerney proposes that the Phocicon seen by Pausanias would not have been the same as the one French and Vanderpool allege to be contemporaneous with the hero shrine. His suggestion is that this “shrine” is in fact the original Phocicon. See McInerney 1997: 201.