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Almut Fries
Pindar’s First Pythian Ode
Untersuchungen zur antiken
Literatur und Geschichte

Herausgegeben von
Marcus Deufert, Heinz-Günther Nesselrath
und Peter Scholz

Band 151
Almut Fries

Pindar’s First
Pythian Ode

Text, Introduction and Commentary

ISBN 978-3-11-112600-5
e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-112836-8
e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-112957-0
ISSN 1862-1112

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023930480

Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek

The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie;
detailed bibliographic data are available on the internet at http://dnb.dnb.de.

© 2023 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston

Typesetting: Dörlemann Satz GmbH & Co. KG, Lemförde
Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck

www.degruyter.com
For Angus
σὺν γάρ τοί τιν τά τε τερπνὰ καί
τὰ γλυκέ᾽ ἄνεται πάντα
Contents
Preface  IX

Abbreviations  XI

Introduction  1
I Structure and Themes  3
II Pythian 1 in Context  8
1 Historical Background  8
2 Date and Occasion  11
3 Pindar’s Strategy of Praise  14
4 Other Poetry on Hieron and Aitna  18
a) Bacchylides 4  19
b) Bacchylides fr. 20C  20
c) Pindar fr. 105a, b  22
d) Simonides  24
e) Aeschylus, Aitn(ai)ai  26
f) Aeschylus, Persai  28
III Performance Contexts  30
1 Performance and Reperformance  30
2 Text and Reperformance  35
IV Metre  38
1 Preliminary Remarks  38
2 Metrical Analysis and Commentary  39
3 Strophic Construction  43
V The Transmission of the Text  45
1 The Early History  45
2 Manuscripts  47
a) The Paris Recension (C)  48
b) The Laurentian Recension (ÅEF = μ)  50
c) The ‘Thessalonicensis’ Recension (GHỊ = θ)  51
d) PQTVi(UV) = ς  52
e) Triclinius  54
f) Pseudo-Moschopoulos  56
3 Papyri  59
4 Scholia  60
5 The Indirect Tradition  62
6 The First Printed Editions  63
7 Stemma Codicum  66
VI The Present Edition  67
VIII Contents

Text and Critical Apparatus  69

Conspectus Siglorum  71
Πινδάρου Ἱέρωνι Αἰτναίῳ ἅρματι  75

Commentary  81

Bibliography  219

Indexes  233
Preface
A new edition of Pindar’s First Pythian Ode with a large-scale introduction and
commentary requires no justification. The poem, written for Hieron of Syracuse in
470 BC, is not only a literary masterpiece, but also an invaluable document for the
political, social and cultural history of Sicily in the first third of the fifth century BC.
The book has been several years in the making and many debts have been
incurred, both institutional and personal. By appointing me to a Lecturership in
Classics The Queen’s College, Oxford, has enabled me to continue my research
and provided support and the friendliest of surroundings for it. I also thank the
librarians at the Bodleian, Sackler and The Queen’s College Libraries, Oxford, at
Emmanuel College Library, Cambridge, as well as those in the manuscript and rare
books departments at the Niedersächsische Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Göt-
tingen, and the Österreichische National­bibliothek, Vienna. Any editor of ancient
texts, moreover, is deeply indebted to the funding bodies, library staff and techni-
cians who cause digital images of ever more manuscripts to be publicly available
online. And during the pandemic restrictions it would have been impossible to con-
tinue working without the large number of electronic books the Bodleian Libraries
made accessible via their network. The Craven Committee of the Faculty of Classics,
Oxford, has my gratitude for a travel grant that helped me to spread Pindarica to a
wide audience at the SCS Annual Conference of 2016.
In 2013, when the work was still in its early stages, I had the privilege of con-
ducting a graduate seminar on Pythian 1 with Martin West. I learnt much from the
participants, especially Laetitia Edwards (L. P. E. Parker) on metre and Robert S.
Parker on Greek athletics, as well as from my distinguished co-convenor. It is my
great regret that he did not live to read a draft of the book nor to see it completed.
The entire work was read by Angus Bowie and Alan Woolley, each of whom
improved it in many ways. They also, respectively, shared the burden of compiling
the list of abbreviations and checking the bibliography. Simon Hornblower, at one
point, provided both historical advice and much-needed moral support, while doing
the editorial spadework would have been significantly harder without his kind gift
of Irigoin’s Histoire du texte de Pindare (in a copy once owned and annotated by
Spencer Barrett). Nigel Wilson scrutinised the critical apparatus and the chapter
on the textual transmission. He also kindly collated for me the manuscript H in
Rome and was ever ready to provide palaeographical advice, usually in combina-
tion with tea and cake. Enrico Emanuele Prodi and Thomas Coward also generously
responded to collation requests in Venice.
An earlier version of this book was accepted as a Habilitationsschrift by the
University of Göttingen in the winter semester 2020. I thank my examiners Heinz-
Günther Nesselrath, Thomas Kuhn-Treichel and Patrick Finglass for undertaking

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111128368-201
X Preface

the task and suggesting various improvements. As general editors of the Untersu-
chungen zur antiken Literatur und Geschichte, Heinz-Günther Nesselrath, Marcus
Deufert and Peter Scholz, have my gratitude for accepting the book into the series.
Marcus Deufert in particular offered some perceptive last-minute suggestions.
But above all I am grateful to my parents Wolfgang and Edelgard Fries and
to my husband Angus Bowie for their continued moral, practical and financial
support. The book is dedicated to Angus, who shared much of the trials and tribu-
lations of its production.

Scribebam ColmanoraeA. F.
Mense Septembri MMXXII
Abbreviations
Abbreviations of ancient authors, work titles and modern periodicals largely follow LSJ and L’Année
Philologique, except that I omit ‘Pindar’ in quotations from the epinicia and ‘Homer’ in quotations from
the Iliad and Odyssey. The fragments of Pindar are cited from B. Snell and H. Maehler (eds.), Pindarus.
Pars II. Fragmenta. Indices (Munich and Leipzig 1989) and those of Bacchylides from H. Maehler (ed.),
Bacchylides. Carmina cum Fragmentis (Munich and Leipzig 112003). Translations of Pindar (other than
Pythian 1) and Bacchylides are taken from the Loeb editions of Race (1997) and Campbell (Greek Lyric IV.
Bacchylides, Corinna, and Others, Cambridge, MA, and London 1992), both occasionally adapted. The
following abbreviations are also used:

Abel E. Abel (ed.), Scholia recentiora in Pindari Epinicia I. Scholia in Olympia et Pythia
(Budapest and Berlin 1891)
Adler A. S. Adler (ed.), Suidae Lexicon, 5 vols. (Leipzig 1928–38)
Beekes R. Beekes, Etymological Dictionary of Greek, 2 vols. (Leiden and Boston 2010)
Bergk Th. Bergk (ed.), Poetae Lyrici Graeci (Leipzig 41878–82)
Billerbeck M. Billerbeck (ed.), Stephani Byzantii Ethnica. Recensuit, Germanice vertit adnota-
tionibus indicibusque instruxit, 5 vols. (Berlin and Boston 2006–17)
BK J. Latacz, A. Bierl et al. (eds.), Homers Ilias. Gesamtkommentar, auf der Grundlage
der Ausgabe von Ameis–Hentze–Cauer (1868–1913), 14 vols. to date (Munich,
Leipzig, Berlin, New York and Boston 2000–) = Basler Kommentar
BMus.Inscr. E. L. Hicks et al. (eds.), The Collection of Ancient Greek Inscriptions in the British
Museum, 4 vols. (Oxford 1874–1916)
Braswell B. K. Braswell (ed.), Didymos of Alexandria. Commentary on Pindar. Edited and
Translated with Introduction, Explanatory Notes, and a Critical Catalogue of
Didymos’ Works (Basel 2013)
CA J. U. Powell (ed.), Collectanea Alexandrina (Oxford 1925)
Calame C. Calame, Etymologicum genuinum. Les citations de poètes lyriques (Rome 1970)
Campbell D. A. Campbell (ed.), Greek Lyric II. Anacreon, Anacreontea, Early Choral Lyric
(Cambridge, MA, and London 1988)
CEG P. A. Hansen (ed.), Carmina Epigraphica Graeca, 2 vols. (Berlin and New York
1983–9)
Chantry M. Chantry (ed.), Scholia in Aristophanem. Pars III: Scholia in Thesmophoriazusas,
Ranas, Ecclesiazusas et Plutum. Fasc. Ia: continens Scholia vetera in Aristophanis
Ranas (Groningen 1999)
Consbruch M. Consbruch (ed.), Hephaestionis Enchiridion cum commentariis veteribus
(Leipzig 1906)
CTH E. Laroche, Catalogue des textes hittites, Suppl. 1 Revue Hittite et Asianique 30,
94–133, Paris 1971; Suppl. 2 Revue Hittite et Asianique 33, 63–71, Paris 1975
(continued at https://www.hethport.uni-wuerzburg.de/CTH/index_en.php)
De Falco V. De Falco (ed.), Demade Oratore. Testimonianze e Frammenti (Naples 21954)
DELG P. Chantraine, Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque. Histoire des
mots, avec un Supplément sous la direction de A. Blanc, C. de Lamberterie,
J.-L. Perpillou (Paris 1999)
Di Gregorio L. Di Gregorio (ed.), Scholia vetera in Hesiodi Theogoniam (Milan 1975)

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111128368-202
XII Abbreviations

DK H. Diels and W. Kranz (eds.), Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, 3 vols. (Berlin
6
1951–2)
DNP/BNP H. Cancik, H. Schneider et al. (eds.), Der Neue Pauly. Enzyklopädie der Antike,
19 vols. (Stuttgart 1996–2003) = Brill’s New Pauly. Encyclopaedia of the Ancient
World (Leiden 2002–)
Dr. A. B. Drachmann (ed.), Scholia vetera in Pindari carmina, 3 vols. (Leipzig 1903–27)
Erbse H. Erbse (ed.), Scholia Graeca in Homeri Iliadem (scholia vetera), 7 vols. (Berlin
1969–88)
FD 3.1 École Française d’Athènes. Fouilles de Delphes (1892–1903). Tome III. Épigraphie.
Fascicule 1. Inscriptions de l’entrée du sanctuaire au trésor d’Athènes (Paris 1910)
FGE D. L. Page (ed.), Further Greek Epigrams, revised and prepared for publication by
R. D. Dawe and J. Diggle (Cambridge 1981)
FGrH F. Jacoby et al. (eds.), Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker (Berlin, Leiden,
Boston and Cologne 1923–)
Finglass M. Davies and P. J. Finglass (eds.), Stesichorus. The Poems (Cambridge 2014)
(introduction and fragments)
GDI F. Bechtel, H. Collitz et al. (eds.), Sammlung der griechischen Dialekt-Inschriften,
4 vols. (Göttingen 1884–1915)
GEF M. L. West (ed.), Greek Epic Fragments (Cambridge, MA, and London 2003)1
GEW H. Frisk, Griechisches etymologisches Wörterbuch (Heidelberg 1960–70)
GG G. Uhlig, R. Schneider, A. Hilgard and A. Lentz (eds.), Grammatici Graeci, 4 vols.
in 10 parts (Leipzig 1867–1910)
Gow A. S. F. Gow (ed.), The Greek Bucolic Poets (Cambridge 1953)
GP J. D. Denniston, The Greek Particles, rev. K. J. Dover (Oxford 21954)
Harder A. Harder (ed.), Callimachus. Aetia, 2 vols. (Oxford 2012)
HE A. S. F. Gow and D. L. Page (eds.), The Greek Anthology. Hellenistic Epigrams,
2 vols. (Cambridge 1965)
Heitsch E. Heitsch (ed.), Die griechischen Dichterfragmente der römischen Kaiserzeit, 2 vols.
(Göttingen 21964)
Herington C. J. Herington (ed.), The Older Scholia on the Prometheus Bound (Leiden 1972)
Hoffner H. A. Hoffner, Hittite Myths. Second Edition, edited by G. M. Beckman (Atlanta
1998)
Holwerda D. Holwerda (ed.), Scholia in Aristophanem. Pars II: Scholia in Vespas, Pacem,
Aves et Lysistratatam. Fasc. 3: Scholia vetera et recentiora in Aristophanis Aves
(Groningen 1992)
Hordern J. H. Hordern (ed.), The Fragments of Timotheus of Miletus (Oxford 2002)
IEG2 M. L. West (ed.), Iambi et Elegi Graeci ante Alexandrum cantati, 2 vols. (Oxford
2
1989–92)
IG II2 J. Kirchner (ed.), Inscriptiones Graecae II et III. Inscriptiones Atticae Euclidis anno
posteriores, 2nd ed., 4 vols. (Berlin 1913–40)

1 References to the editions of Davies (Epicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, Göttingen 1988) and Bern-
abé (Poetae Epici Graeci. Testimonia et Fragmenta I, Stuttgart and Leipzig 21996) can be found in
West’s concordance (pp. 299–308).
 Abbreviations XIII

IG IV2.1 F. Hiller von Gaertringen (ed.), Inscriptiones Graecae IV. Inscriptiones Argolidis.
2nd ed. Fasc. 1, Inscriptiones Epidauri (Berlin 1929)
IG V.1 W. Kolbe (ed.), Inscriptiones Graecae V.1. Inscriptiones Laconiae et Messeniae
(Berlin 1913)
IG V.2 F. Hiller von Gaertringen (ed.), Inscriptiones Graecae V.2. Inscriptiones Arcadiae
(Berlin 1913)
IG IX.2 O. Kern (ed.) Inscriptiones Graecae IX.2. Inscriptiones Thessaliae (Berlin 1908)
IG XIV G. Kaibel (ed.), Inscriptiones Graecae XIV. Inscriptiones Siciliae et Italiae, additis
Galliae, Hispaniae, Britanniae, Germaniae inscriptionibus (Berlin 1890)
Inscr. Cret. M. Guarducci (ed.), Inscriptiones Creticae. Opera et consilio Friderici Halbherr
collectae, 4 vols. (Rome 1935–50)
Kambylis A. Kambylis (ed.), Prooimion zum Pindarkommentar (Göttingen 1991)
KG R. Kühner (rev. B. Gerth), Ausführliche Grammatik der griechischen Sprache.
Zweiter Teil: Satzlehre, 2 vols. (Hanover and Leipzig 31898–1904)
KUB Keilschrifturkunden aus Boghazköy, Berlin 1921–90
Kühn C. G. Kühn (ed.), Κλαυδίου Γαληνοῦ ἅπαντα. C. Galeni opera omnia, 22 vols.
(Leipzig 1821–33)
Latte–Cunningham K. Latte and I. C. Cunningham (eds.), Hesychii Alexandrini Lexicon. Volumen I: Α–Δ,
2nd ed. (Berlin and Boston 2018), Volumen II.1: Ε–Ι, Volumen II.2: Κ–Ο (Berlin and
Boston 2020)
LfgrE B. Snell et al. (eds.), Lexikon des frühgriechischen Epos (Göttingen 1955–2010)
LSJ H. G. Liddell and R. Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, rev. H. Stuart Jones et al.
(Oxford 91940, with a revised Supplement 1996)
ML R. Meiggs and D. M. Lewis (eds.), A Selection of Greek Historical Inscriptions to the
End of the Fifth Century B.C., rev. ed. (Oxford 1988)
MP3 CEDOPAL: Base de données expérimentale Mertens–Pack3 en ligne = Mertens–Pack
3 Online Database
(http://cipl93.philo.ulg.ac.be/Cedopal/MP3/dbsearch_en.aspx)
M.–W. R. Merkelbach and M. L. West (eds.), Fragmenta Hesiodea (Oxford 1967)
M.–W.2 ‘Appendix nova fragmentorum’, in F. Solmsen, R. Merkelbach and M. L. West
(eds.), Hesiodi Opera (Oxford 21983)
PCG R. Kassel and C. F. L. Austin (eds.), Poetae Comici Graeci, 8 vols. to date (Berlin
and New York 1983–)
Pf. R. Pfeiffer (ed.), Callimachus, 2 vols. (Oxford 21965)
PG J. P. Migne (ed.), Patrologiae Cursus Completus. Series Graeca, 161 vols. (Paris
1857–66)
PMG D. L. Page (ed.), Poetae Melici Graeci (Oxford 1962)
PMGF M. Davies (ed.), Poetarum Melicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, 1 vol. to date
(Oxford 1991–)
Poltera O. Poltera (ed.), Simonides Lyricus. Testimonia und Fragmente (Basel 2008)
Radt S. L. Radt (ed.), Strabons Geographika. Mit Übersetzung und Kommentar, 10 vols.
(Göttingen 2002–11)
Rose V. Rose (ed.), Aristotelis qui ferebantur librorum fragmenta (Leipzig 1886)
Roussou S. Roussou (ed.), Pseudo-Arcadius’ Epitome of Herodian’s De Prosodia Catholica
(Oxford 2018)
Schwyzer E. Schwyzer, Griechische Grammatik. Erster Band. Allgemeiner Teil: Lautlehre,
Wortbildung, Flexion (Munich 1939)
XIV Abbreviations

SD E. Schwyzer and A. Debrunner, Griechische Grammatik. Zweiter Band. Syntax und

Syntaktische Stilistik (Munich 1950)
SGDI F. Bechtel, H. Collitz et al. (eds.), Sammlung der griechischen Dialektinschriften,
4 vols. (Göttingen 1884–1915)
SGO R. Merkelbach and J. Stauber (eds.), Steinepigramme aus dem griechischen Osten,
5 vols. (Stuttgart and Munich 1998–2004)
SH P. H. J. Lloyd-Jones and P. J. Parsons (eds.), Supplementum Hellenisticum
(Berlin and New York 1983)
SIG3 W. Dittenberger (ed.), Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum, 4 vols. (Leipzig 31915)
Slater W. J. Slater, Lexicon to Pindar (Berlin 1969)
Slater W. J. Slater (ed.), Aristophanis Byzantii fragmenta (Berlin and New York 1986)
Stallbaum J. G. Stallbaum (ed.), Eustathii … commentarii ad Homeri Odysseam, 2 vols.
(Leipzig 1825–6)
Theiler W. Theiler (ed.), Poseidonios. Die Fragmente, 2 vols. (Berlin and New York 1982)
Threatte L. Threatte, The Grammar of Attic Inscriptions, 2 vols. to date (Berlin and New
York 1980–)
TrGF B. Snell, R. Kannicht and S. L. Radt (eds.), Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta,
5 vols. (Göttingen 21986–2004)
Voigt E.-M. Voigt (ed.), Sappho et Alcaeus (Amsterdam 1971)
Wehrli F. Wehrli (ed.), Die Schule des Aristoteles. Texte und Kommentar (Basel 21967–9)
Wendel C. Wendel (ed.), Scholia in Theocritum vetera (Leipzig 1914)
Introduction
I Structure and Themes
Pindar’s Pythian 1 was composed for Hieron of Syracuse to celebrate his victory
in the Delphic chariot-race of 470 BC and, at the same time, his foundation of the
city of Aitna in place of Katane (modern Catania) in 476/5.1 It consists of five triads
(T1–T5), in which a strophic pair of six dactylo-epitrite periods (S1–S6 ~ A1–A6) is
followed by an epode of eight periods in the same metre (E1–E8).2 This straightfor-
ward external structure conceals a rich sequence of themes, intricately connected
with each other by recurrent images, parallels, contrasts and ring-composition. The
basic pattern can be seen in the following synopsis:

1–28 Proem (T1S1–T2A2)

1–12 Hymn to Music, with its effect on the Olympian gods (T1S + T1A)
13–28 Myth I: The enemies of the gods and music, specifically Typhos3 (T1E1–T2A2)
29–40 The glory of Aitna: Hieron’s foundation (I) and Pythian victory (T2A3–T2E8)
41–2a ‘Link verses’: all human talents come from the gods (T3S1–2a)
42b–50a Praise (I) and good wishes for Hieron (T3S2b–T3A4a)
50b–7 Myth II: Philoctetes (T3A4b–T3E5)
58–60 Invocation to the Muse: Deinomenes, regent of Aitna (T3E6–8)
61–70 Hieron’s foundation (II) and Dorian constitution of Aitna (T4S1–T4A4)
71–80 The battles of Himera and Kyme (T4A5–T4E8)
81–100 Praise (II) and ‘advice’ for Hieron (T5S1–T5E8)
81–4 Poetic self-restraint: κόρος and φθόνος (T5S1–4)
~ 85–92a In defiance of φθόνος: how to be a good ruler (present) (T5S5–T5A6a)
~ 89–100 Imperishable fame (future) (T5A3–T5E8)

It is evident that sections rarely coincide fully with strophic boundaries; the excep-
tions are the ‘Hymn to Music’ (1–12) and the final triad (81–100), if one treats Pin-
dar’s laudatory adhortations to Hieron and their meaning for his posthumous fame
as a thematic unity. Marking the opening and closure of the poem, these passages
are not only structurally the most important (audiences tend to remember an
impressive beginning and end), but they also echo each other in a way that raises
Hieron’s acclaim (see further below, 5–6).
Other sections either begin with a stanza and end in the middle of another,
or vice versa. Examples are the Typhos-myth (13–28), Pindar’s first glorification of
Hieron and Aitna (29–40), the city’s Dorian foundation (61–70) and the battles of
Himera and Kyme (71–80). The last two episodes, which sum up Hieron’s political

1 All subsequent dates in the introduction and commentary are ‘BC’, unless otherwise indicated.
2 For details of the metrical design of the ode see ch. IV.
3 For the different forms of this name see 15–16a n. I use ‘Typhos’ throughout.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111128368-001
4 Introduction

and military exploits, in fact share the entire fourth triad, whereas the initial praise
of the honorand rounds off the second. Although the transition from one stanza
or triad to the next did not necessarily create a strong break,4 it is likely that a
corresponding sense pause would have been perceived as emphatic. By contrast,
the remaining thematic moves within stanzas prevent Pindar’s composition from
appearing static.
It cannot be coincidence either that the frequent prayers in Pythian 1 concen-
trate on the boundaries of the four passages just mentioned.5 The deities invoked
are Zeus, especially in his function as supreme protector of Aitna (Zeus Aitnaios)
and Apollo, the god of music and patron of the Pythian Games. Both appear imme-
diately in the proem – Apollo as Μουσαγέτας, leader of the divine chorus (1–2, 12),
and Zeus in the remarkably lifelike description of the sleeping eagle on his sceptre,
which recalls the iconography of Zeus Aitnaios on contemporary coins from Aitna
(5–12n.). Most appropriately, therefore, the eulogy of Aitna and its founder Hieron,
who increased the city’s fame with his Pythian triumph, is framed by an invocation
to Zeus as lord of Mt. Etna (29–30a (n.)) and a prayer to Apollo that he may adorn
Aitna with further horse victories and the accompanying celebrations (39–40).6
Given the threat of the homonymous volcano which looms over the city and whose
recent eruption Pindar has just described in the most dramatic way (21–6), it is not
surprising that the appeal for the favour of Zeus Aitnaios has since antiquity been
interpreted as apotropaeic.7
Apollo does not feature again in the poem, but Zeus is appealed to twice more
in quick succession in the fourth triad.8 As Zeus Accomplisher (τέλειος) he is asked
to ensure that Aitna and its rulers always maintain its Dorian constitution as a
guarantee of freedom and ‘harmonious peace’ among the people (67–70). And as
supreme god of war it is hoped that Zeus will avert new attacks by the Carthagin-

4 In choral lyric sentences frequently run over stanza- and triad-boundaries. Usually these over-
laps coincide with some syntactical division, as between main and subordinate clause or parti-
ciple (cf. 21–2a n.). But there are cases in which grammar completely ignores the boundary: e.g.
Ol. 9.28–9 ἀγαθοὶ δὲ καὶ σοφοὶ κατὰ δαίμον᾽ ἄνδρες ||| ἐγένοντ᾽, 84–5 (triad), Pyth. 1.32–3, 52–3,
92–3 (stanza). The strength or weakness of any break may have been reinforced by the music, but
in the absence of scores it is impossible to be certain.
5 For prayers as a structural device in Pythian 1 see Race 1990: 136–40 and Fearn 2017: 194–8,
202–14.
6 Cf. Cingano 1995: 15.
7 Schol. Pyth. 1.56a (II 15.17–20 Dr.) ἐπειδὴ περὶ τοῦ Τυφῶνος λόγον ἐκίνησε καὶ τὰς τιμωρίας αὐτοῦ
διεξῆλθεν, ὥσπερ φόβῳ διατεθεὶς πρὸς τὰ διηγήματα κατεύχεται τὸν Δία ἔχειν εὐμενῆ. Cf. Race 1990:
41–2, Fearn 2017: 197. For Typhos as the cause of Mt. Etna’s vulcanism see below, 5.
8 This eclipse of Apollo by Zeus could in part be accounted for by the fact that Zeus was the tradi-
tionally accepted patron of rulers (cf. 69–70n.).
 Structure and Themes 5

ians and Etruscans, who have exercised Hieron and his associates for the preceding
decade (71–5). These two prayers in fact supplement the earlier invocation to Zeus
Aitnaios because the prosperity of Aitna depends on internal and external stability.
Foreign invasion remained a constant threat for Greek Sicily and Southern Italy, but
Pindar must also have been aware that the status of Aitna was precarious. While
he praised its young ruler, Deinomenes son of Hieron (58–60 (n.)), and was able to
present the forcible replacement of Katane’s mainly Ionian population with Dorians
as rooted in the Dorian migration (61–70 (n.); cf. II.1, 9), it is unlikely that his wish
for ‘harmonious peace’ in the city was merely formal. By 470 Hieron had been ill
for several years (46, 50b–7nn.), and a few years after his death in 467/6 Katane was
restored to its original state.9
If divine invocations specifically mark Hieron’s achievements, ring-composi-
tion is the principal structural device in Pythian 1. Thematic responsions enclose
not only individual sections, but also the entire poem, highlighting significant motifs
and connections. The double reference to Apollo and the Muses at the beginning
and end of the ‘Hymn to Music’ (1–2 ~ 12) separates this first part of the proem from
the second, which deals with the enemies of the Olympian gods, notably Typhos.
Even more importantly, it establishes the leitmotif of music as the symbol of order
and peace, among gods and men. This carries through to the very end of the ode,
where the evocation of sympotic scenes with choruses of boys singing to the lyre
(φόρμιγγες, 96–7) harks back to the image of Apollo accompanying the Muses on his
golden lyre (χρυσέα φόρμιγξ, 1–2a). Through the negative paradigm of the tyrant
Phalaris, who will not be a subject of song at said symposia, Pindar implicitly asso-
ciates Hieron, his current celebration and all future performances of Pythian 1 with
the eternally recurrent festivities of the gods (cf. 95–8, 97–8nn.)
Being anathema to music, Phalaris corresponds to Typhos, one of the mon-
strous enemies of Zeus, who cannot bear to hear ‘the song of the Pierians’ (13–14).
For his insurgence Typhos was punished with confinement under Mt. Etna, which
Pindar presents as the aition for the mountain’s volcanic activity (cf. 13–28n.). Two
mutually reinforcing descriptions of Typhos’ discomfort (17b–20 ~ 27–8 (n.)) sur-
round the extraordinarily vivid ecphrasis of an eruption (21–6), illustrating what
happens to someone who challenges Zeus. This the audience is to remember when
in the rest of the poem Pindar subtly aligns Hieron’s victory over the Carthaginians

9 On Hieron’s rule and the history of Aitna see further ch. II.1, and on Pindar’s encomiastic strategy,
ch. II.3. The prayer to an unnamed god (θεός) for Hieron’s continued wellbeing (56–7) has been
excluded from this discussion because it parallels the wish in 46 that time may be kind to him, and
it is likely that Pindar regarded ‘time’ and ‘god’ as all but equivalent here (cf. 46, 56–7nn.).
6 Introduction

and Etruscans to that of Zeus over Typhos and the peace he is to vouchsafe for Aitna
to the harmony the Olympians enjoy after the monster’s defeat.
This alignment begins when Pindar expresses reasonable hope that Aitna will
remain famed for equestrian victories and ‘tuneful festivities’ (35b–8 (n.)) in the
praise passage that is enclosed by prayers to Zeus Aitnaios and Apollo (cf. above, 4).
Subsequently Hieron is celebrated for his military exploits, first in general terms
(47–50a (n.)), then specifically for the battles of Himera and Kyme (71–80 (n.)). Both
encomia are linked to the fate of Aitna. The former, which extends into the myth
of Philoctetes (50b–5), is part of the most complex system of ring-composition in
Pythian 1, placed as it is at the centre of the third triad, and indeed the whole ode,
by two sets of responding statements (42b–5 ~ 58–60, 46 ~ 56–7; cf. 41–60, 46–57nn.).
Their inner circle consists of a wish (46) and a prayer (56–7) for Hieron’s enduring
prosperity and health, the latter an important factor for Aitna’s future.10 The second
of these eulogies follows Pindar’s expectation that, with the help of Zeus, Hieron
will lead his city ‘to harmonious peace’ (σύμφωνον ἐς ἡσυχίαν, 69–70). This musical
metaphor again evokes the divine concord of the proem (cf. 1–28, 69–70nn.), and it
is probably significant that it stands at an equal distance from the verses in which
Pindar offers a song of praise (ὕμνος) to Hieron’s son Deinomenes (the Younger) and
the sons of Deinomenes (the Elder), that is Hieron and his brothers, respectively
(58–60, 79–80 (nn.)). The fourth triad delivers both these internal encomia, and line
70 is the boundary between them.
Finally, ring-composition repeatedly contributes to an effect of ‘false closure’,
a poetic device apt to increase audience suspense. The ‘Hymn to Music’ (1–12) is
self-contained, and listeners may have expected the main body of the ode to follow
(cf. 12b n.). Instead Pindar makes a U-turn (ὅσσα δέ, 13), moving the scene from
Olympus to the immediate surroundings of Mt. Etna.11 The account of the primeval
creature which sends up fire from the depth of the earth must have been all the
more captivating for its surprising position in the poem.
By the end of the second triad Pindar has touched on all the regular motifs
of epinician, and if a two-triad ode were not too short for the occasion, one might
think that the prayer to Apollo, which mirrors that to Zeus in 29–30a, signalled com-
pletion (29–40, 39–40nn.). When Pindar continues, he does so with a sentence that
arrests attention for being thematically and syntactically connected to the preced-
ing one (41–2a ἐκ θεῶν γάρ …).
The most playful example of ‘false closure’ occurs at the end of the fourth triad.
At that point few, presumably, would have been surprised if the ode had reached

10 Cf. above, 5 and ch. II.1.

11 It is likely that Pythian 1 was first performed in Aitna, and thus in view of the volcano (ch. II.2).
 Structure and Themes 7

its conclusion, and some may actually have wished for it. Pindar picks up on pre-
cisely this sentiment as he opens the fifth triad with one of his favourite topoi:
a self-exhortation to keep to the point in order to avoid audience dissatisfaction
(μῶμος) from satiety (κόρος) and envy (φθόνος). Neither here nor elsewhere does
this prevent him from further eulogy (cf. 81–4n.).
Despite its immense variety of motifs, therefore, Pythian 1 does not lack unity.
Thanks to Pindar’s masterful compositional technique, even seemingly disparate
themes can be shown to be interrelated and to contribute to the encomiastic aim of
the ode. Above them all stand Apollo’s golden lyre and the power of music to unite
gods and men in ‘harmonious peace’.12

12 Cf. Cingano 1995: 20. This is not to say that the lyre constitutes the single unifying element of
Pythian 1, because ‘the majority of verses cannot be explained in terms of it’ (Skulsky 1975: 8, who
rightly rejects the notion, common in earlier Pindaric criticism, that his odes can be reduced to one
dominant theme).
II Pythian 1 in Context

1 Historical Background

Hieron of Syracuse (ca. 535–467/6) was the second son of Deinomenes the Elder from
Gela, the others being Gelon, Polyzalos and Thrasyboulos. Together they formed the
core of the Deinomenid dynasty, which in the first third of the fifth century ruled
over Gela and Syracuse. In power and wealth the Deinomenids were matched only
by the Emmenids of Akragas, with whom they forged marriage-alliances13 and com-
peted for athletic prestige,14 but also repeatedly came into conflict, most notably
in 472, when Thrasydaios of Akragas launched an army against Syracuse and was
defeated by Hieron (D. S. 11.53.3–5).15 Since this brought the Akragantine tyranny
to an end, Hieron was the most powerful tyrant in Sicily when Pythian 1 was per-
formed. However, as quickly as the Deinomenids had risen, they fell victim to their
own ruthless expansionist politics and the growing democratic tendencies in Sicily
in the mid-to late 460s (see further below, 10).
Hieron’s ‘career’ began as regent in Gela (485–78). He took over from his eldest
brother Gelon, tyrant of Gela from ca. 491, after the latter had been summoned
to help by the displaced oligarchic ‘land-owners’ (γαμόροι) of Syracuse and, in
leading them back, ursurped the city (Hdt. 7.155–6). It was as regent of Gela that
in 480 Hieron participated in the battle of Himera, where the combined forces of
Theron of Akragas and Gelon of Syracuse defeated the Carthaginians, who had been
invoked by Terillos of Himera against previous aggressions by Theron (Hdt. 7.165–6,
D. S. 11.20–6).16

13 Gelon married Theron’s daughter Damarete, while Theron married the daughter of Polyzalos;
after Gelon’s death Damarete became the wife of Polyzalos (schol. Ol. 2 inscr. (I 58.14–18 Dr.) =
Timae. FGrH 566 F 93a, scholl. Ol. 2.29b, c (I 67.10–19, 68.1–2 Dr.), schol. Ol. 2.29d (I 69.1–8 Dr.) =
Timae. FGrH 566 F 93b). Hieron first married a Syracusan, who bore him Deinomenes (probably in
the late 480s), then the sister of Anaxilas of Rhegion (which did not prevent Hieron from protecting
the Western Lokrians against Anaxilas’ agression: III.1, 34) and thirdly a niece or cousin of Theron
(schol. Pyth. 1.112 (II 20.1–9 Dr.) = Philist. FGrH 556 F 50, Timae. FGrH 566 F 97; cf. schol. Ol. 2.29c (I
68.15–16 Dr.)). See Bonanno 2010: 115–16 (with Tav. 1), Morgan 2015: 60–1.
14 Between 490 and 468 the Emmenids and Deinomenids (including their associates Chromios and
Hagesias) shared sixteen equestrian victories at mostly the great pan-Hellenic games. See Morgan
2015: 70–1.
15 Cf. II.3, 14 and 50–7b n. Previously, in 476, the inhabitants of Himera, then ruled by Thrasydaios,
had attempted to implicate Hieron in a revolt (D. S. 11.48.6–49.4).
16 On Gelon’s take-over of Syracuse and the battle of Himera see Dunbabin 1948: 414–16, 420–6,
Asheri 1988: 768–75, Luraghi 1994: 282–7, 304–21 and Morgan 2015: 23–30.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111128368-002
 Pythian 1 in Context 9

The spoils of Himera (cf. 48b–50a n. (πλούτου στεφάνωμ᾽ ἀγέρωχον)) further

increased the wealth of Syracuse, which Gelon had already enlarged by forced
resettlements from Gela, Kamarina, Megara Hyblaia and Sicilian Euboia (Hdt. 7.156;
cf. Thuc. 6.5.3). This flourishing city Hieron inherited upon Gelon’s death in 478,
and he immediately strove to consolidate and extend the political influence of the
Deinomenids.
His most ambitious undertaking was the refoundation of Katane (Catania) as
Aitna in 476/5. We cannot tell whether this was prompted by the eruption of Mt.
Etna, not least because our sources variously date this to 479/8 or 475/4 (cf. 13–28n.).
But if the earlier year is correct, the catastrophe probably helped, since the weak-
ened community would have had less power to resist Hieron’s intervention and
initially perhaps even welcomed it.17
This intervention consisted of removing the primarily Ionian inhabitants of
Katane (and Naxos) to Leontinoi, after which Hieron repopulated the place with
five thousand Peloponnesians and as many Syracusans (D. S. 11.49.1) or, according
to schol. Pyth. 1.120b (II 21.1–3 Dr.), with people from Gela, Megara Hyblaia and
Syracuse. Whatever the truth, Hieron evidently attempted to make Aitna a Dorian
colony – witness the semi-mythical tale of the Dorian migration in Pyth. 1.61–618 –
although it is perhaps unlikely that no Ionians at all remained.19
As ruler of Aitna Hieron installed his only son Deinomenes, initially with Hier-
on’s experienced general and brother-in-law Chromios as regent for the underage
youth.20 To cement his rule further and to increase the reputation of his new city,
Hieron established a sanctuary and annual festival in honour of Zeus Aitnaios
(Aitnaia), which he administered himself as the high priest of the god.21 Other forms

17 Cf. Luraghi 1994: 340, Morgan 2015: 57, 320.

18 Cf. I, 5 and 61–70n. Schroeder (1922: on 61) suspected that the ‘Peloponnesians’ of Diodorus
Siculus arose from a misunderstanding of this stanza (probably going back to Timaeus, who had
recourse to Pindar’s epinicians: Neumann-Hartmann 2019: 34, 42). On the other hand, Pindar may
reflect the actual events. Regarding the version of the scholion, Asheri (1992: 150 n. 1) notes that
Megara Hyblaia had ceased to exist around 483.
19 Hornblower 2014: 201, who refers to the generally ‘mixed’ character of the Sicilian colonies
(cf. Thuc. 6.17.2) and observes that ‘[p]opulation transfers and resettlements are rarely complete.’
In addition, the Peloponnesian settlers, if they came, need not all have been Dorians (Luraghi 1994:
338 n. 274; cf. Lewis 2019: 179).
20 Schol. Nem. 9 inscr. (III 149.22–150.1 Dr.) ὁ δὲ Χρόμιος οὗτος φίλος ἦν Ἱέρωνος, κατασταθεὶς ὑπ᾽
αὐτοῦ τῆς Αἴτνης ἐπίτροπος. It is unclear when this arrangement ended.
21 Cf. Ol. 6.94–6 with scholl. 158a (I 191.14–15 Dr.) ἱεροσύνην <εἶχεν> ὁ Ἱέρων Δήμητρος καὶ Κόρης
καὶ Διὸς Αἰτναίου, 162a (I 192.15–16 Dr.) ἐν τῇ Αἴτνῃ Διὸς Αἰτναίου ἄγαλμα ἵδρυται, καὶ ἐορτὴ
Αἰτναῖα καλεῖται, 162c (I 192.18–19 Dr.) περιέπει δὲ καὶ θεραπεύει ὁ Ἱέρων καὶ τὸ κράτος τοῦ Διὸς
τοῦ κατὰ τὴν Αἴτνην τιμωμένου, scholl. Pyth. 1.56b (II 15.23 Dr.), Nem. 1.4g, 7a, b (III 11.19–21, 11.22–
10 Introduction

of propaganda were the issuing of two coins, a drachm and a tetradrachm, showing
the image of the seated Zeus Aitnaios on their reverse (5–12n.), and not least
Pythian 1 itself.
With the foundation of Aitna Hieron was able to show himself on a par with
Gelon and other Sicilian tyrants who had engaged in large-scale population trans-
plants22 and to indulge his hopes of being posthumously honoured as a city-founder
(30b–2a n.). But he still had no military success of his own to match Gelon’s and
Theron’s victory at Himera. He achieved this in 474 when the Greek colony of Kyme
on the Bay of Naples requested his assistance against the Etruscans, and his navy
defeated them (D. S. 11.51). By that time, however, he was already ill with the disease
which is alluded to in Pythian 1 (46, 50b–7nn.) and to which he succumbed in 467.
His death did not immediately end Deinomenid rule in Syracuse and Aitna, but
probably dealt a further blow to an already weakened regime. After less than a
year, in 466/5, Hieron’s youngest brother and successor Thrasyboulos was deposed
and forced into exile by a democratic uprising in Syracuse (D. S. 11.67.1–68.7), and
the same happened to Deinomenes of Aitna in 461. The original inhabitants of
Katane returned and established a democracy, while the expelled Dorians settled
in Inessa, which they renamed ‘Aitna’ and to which they transferred the cult of
Hieron as their oikist (D. S. 11.76.3–6, Str. 6.2.3). Deinomenes was murdered there
in 451 (D. S. 11.91.1).23
Pythian 1 is our only contemporary written source for these events, with the
exception of short allusions in other epinicians for Hieron and his associates. As a
poet of praise, Pindar had the task of presenting his client in an unequivocally pos-
itive light, but it is nevertheless striking how hostile later historiography has been
towards Hieron, especially compared to Gelon. This is particularly true of Diodorus
Siculus (11.20–6, 49, 51, 66–8, 76), who probably drew on a combination of Ephorus
and the Sicilian historians Timaeus and Philistus.24 But it would not be surprising if

12.1 Dr.), and see Lewis 2019: 143–9. Luraghi (1994: 339–40) plausibly suggests that the origin of the
cult itself lay in the recent eruption of Mt. Etna and thus slightly preceded Hieron’s foundation. On
its history after the fall of the Deinomenids see III.2, 34 n. 114.
22 See Luraghi 1994: 335–6, Morgan 2015: 55–6, 59–60.
23 On the successive fall of the Sicilian tyrannies, ending with that of the Deinomenids, see Asheri
1992: 154–61.
24 For a more positive fourth-century representation see Xenophon’s Hieron, a fictitious dialogue
between Hieron and Simonides on the happiness of tyrants and their subjects. Plutarch (De sera
551f–52a) favourably compared Hieron and Peisistratos, and Aelian (VH 4.15) tells how Hieron
became cultured during his illness, an anecdote doubtless prompted by the large number of poetic
works he commissioned in his final years.
 Pythian 1 in Context 11

unrest had already been simmering in the last years of Hieron’s life.25 By an ironic
turn of history, his defeat of Thrasydaios of Akragas in 472 had enabled a demo-
cratic revolution there and liberated Himera from Akragantine rule (above, 8). And
by a remarkable poetic volte-face Pindar invoked ‘Saviour Fortune’, daughter of
Zeus Eleutherios, at the beginning of Olympian 12 for Ergoteles of Himera, winner
in the dolichos (long-distance race) of 466.26

2 Date and Occasion

In contrast to several other Pindaric epinicians, there is no reasonable doubt about

the date and/or occasion of Pythian 1. The scholia securely attest the 29th Pythiad
(= 470) for Hieron’s victory with the four-horse chariot at Delphi, which prompted
the composition of the ode.27 The source for this information will have been a
Pythian victory list, similar to the catalogue of Olympic victors partially preserved
in P. Oxy. 222 (III AD), which confirmed the dates of Olympians 1, 9, 10 and 11 as well
as Bacch. 5. Given that the ancient commentators on the Pythians twice quote Aris-
totle in connection with dates and victories,28 it is probable that they followed the
three-book Register of Victors in the Pythian Games (ἡ τῶν Πυθιονικῶν ἀναγραφή or
Πυθιονίκαι) compiled around 330 by Aristotle and his younger relative Callisthenes
(Arist. frr. 615–17 Rose). On our evidence, this authoritative work contained not
only a complete list of athletic (and perhaps musical) victors, but also a wealth of
information about the history of the Pythian festival and competitions.29
For reconstructing the performance context of Pindar’s (and Bacchylides’) epi-
nicians we almost invariably have to rely on internal evidence.30 From Pythian 1
it is clear that the ode was intended for a major public celebration in Sicily, where

25 Cf. ch. II.3. Asheri (1992: 153) cautiously places in this context Aristotle’s description of a system
of public surveillance in Syracuse (Pol. 1313b11–15).
26 Ol. 12.1–2 λίσσομαι, παῖ Ζηνὸς Ἐλευθερίου, / Ἱμέραν εὐρυσθενέ᾽ ἀμφιπόλει, σώτειρα Τύχα. Cf.
Barrett 1973 = 2007: 78–97, Lloyd-Jones 1982: 141 = 1990: 59, Hornblower 2006: 156–7.
27 Schol. Pyth. 1 intr. (II 5.13–15 Dr.) ἐνίκησε δὲ ὁ Ἱέρων … τὴν … κθ´ ἅρματι, εἰς ἣν ὁ ὑποκείμενος
ἐπίνικος τέτακται. Numbers tend to get corrupted in the manuscript tradition, but the present pas-
sage, which also dates Hieron’s Pythian victories with the race-horse to the 26th Pythiad (= 482) and
27th Pythiad (= 478) respectively, shows no variation.
28 Scholl. Ol. 2.87e (I 82.24–6 Dr.), Isth. 2 inscr. a (III 212.18–20 Dr.).
29 Christesen 2007: 179–202; cf. Hornblower 2004: 42, Neumann-Hartmann 2019: 47 with n. 105.
Both Aristotle and Callisthenes are named in SIG3 275 = FD 3.1.400 (Callisth. FGrH 124 T 23), the
fragment of a decree honouring them for producing the list. All other ancient sources only refer
to Aristotle.
30 See Currie 2005: 17–18.
12 Introduction

Hieron’s Delphic chariot victory, prestigious as is was, served as a mere pretext for
extolling his military and political achievements, in particular the foundation of
Aitna.
Comparison with Bacch. 4, the other epinician written for Hieron on this occa-
sion, highlights the unusual historical focus of Pythian 1. It is generally assumed
that Bacch. 4 was first performed ‘on site’ in Delphi.31 The short song therefore
concentrates on Hieron’s official status as ruler of Syracuse (1–3), and his multiple
hippic triumphs at the Olympian and Pythian Games, including the present one
(4–20). Any mention of Hieron’s battles or the foundation of Aitna would have been
inappropriate at a victory celebration where the principal part of the audience
was not Hieron’s associates and subjects, but the assembled free aristocracy of the
Greek world, and it lay in the interest of the honorand to portray himself as one of
their equals.32 Whether Pythian 1 and Bacch. 4 are otherwise related is a matter
of speculation. We do not know how the ‘spontaneous’ epinicians were produced
and rehearsed, but it is conceivable that a confident and immensely wealthy client
like Hieron commissioned one in advance to be able to show himself in the best light
should he win.33 Likewise Hieron may have had early talks with Pindar about a ‘big’
ode for Sicily and the shape it should take. In that case it is possible that Pythian 1
and Bacch. 4 were designed to complement each other.
It has long been debated whether Pythian 1 saw its premiere in Syracuse or
in Aitna, but the majority of scholars have always favoured the latter.34 The city of

31 Cf. Bacch. 4.4–6 τρίτον γὰρ παρ᾽ [ὀμφα]λὸν ὑψιδείρου χθονός / Πυ̣[θ]ιόνικος ἀ[είδε]ται /
ὠ[κυ]πόδων ἀρ̣[ετᾷ] σὺν ἵππων, and see e.g. Maehler 1982: 64–5 ~ 2004: 100–1, Dougherty 1993:
100 n. 47, Neumann-Hartmann 2009: 38, 70. The seminal study of this type of epinician, which can
only be identified by internal criteria, is Gelzer 1985. His influential approach has been severely
criticised by Eckerman (2012), who rightly points out that the evidence for some odes is weak or
indeed non-existent. Eckerman does not, however, succeed in eliminating the possibility of on-site
performance. His arguments regarding Bacch. 4 in particular are unconvincing (pp. 345–50).
32 See Hose 2000: 163–8, who subtly analyses Bacch. 4 as both maintaining and transcending this
convention. The poet mentions Hieron’s hometown, Syracuse, but marks him as of special status (3
ἀστύθεμιν); Hieron’s current victory continues not a family tradition (cf. e.g. Pyth. 7.13–16, of the
Alcmeonids), but his own athletic history; and he is not primus inter pares, but ‘the only one of men’
(15 μοῦνον ἐπιχθονίων̣) who with the help of the gods (18–19 θ̣εο̣ῖσ̣ιν / φίλον ἐόντα) achieved such
success (i.e. three equestrian victories at the Pythian Games).
33 Cf. Maehler 1982: 64–5 ~ 2004: 100–1 and Hose 2000: 162–4. Currie (2011: 304 n. 142) compares
the story of Eubotas of Kyrene (fourth century BC), who pre-commissioned and immediately ded-
icated a victory statue at Olympia because an oracle had predicted his victory in the chariot-race
(Paus. 6.8.3).
34 Firmly for Syracuse: e.g. Dissen 1830: 162, Fennell 1893: 142; Aitna: e.g. Boeckh 1821: II.2 226,
Mezger 1880: 73, Burton 1962: 91, Neumann-Hartmann 2007: 68 and the authors quoted in n. 36.
 Pythian 1 in Context 13

Aitna and its environs dominate the geography of the ode. Mt. Etna is first named
at the end of the first triad (20 νιφόεσσ᾽ Αἴτνα), and the ecphrasis of its eruption
leads to a prayer to Zeus (Aitnaios) and the proclamation of Hieron as founder of,
and victor from, Aitna (29–33). Later on Hieron’s son Deinomenes is referred to as
‘king of Aitna’ (58–60 Αἴτνας βασιλεῖ) before Pindar elaborates on the city’s Dorian
roots (61–6) and prays to Zeus (τέλειος) for its future prosperity and good order
(67–70). In this final mention Aitna is represented by the river Amenas (67 Ἀμένα
παρ᾽ ὕδωρ), a periphrasis which presupposes some local knowledge on the part of
the poet and his audience.
Despite these strong indications, Morrison doubts a first performance in Aitna
because of the deictic pronouns Pindar uses to designate the locality. Mt. Etna is
τοῦτ᾽ … ὄρος (30) and Aitna itself πόλιν κείναν (61), both contrary to Pindar’s ‘usual
way of denoting the immediate surroundings of the performance … with ὅδε’.35
However, as Morrison himself admits, it is possible to understand these demonstra-
tives ‘grammatically’, that is as referring back to something just mentioned, with an
additional sense of prestige to κείναν (cf. 29–30a, 61–2a nn.). On this interpretation,
the pronouns would not rule out an Aitnaian premiere, although Morrison is right
to point out that one cannot be certain.
Whether Pythian 1 was first performed in Syracuse or Aitna, the context will
have been a public event aimed at affording maximal attention to Hieron and his
political agenda. But in Aitna one particular occasion offered itself. It has plausibly
been suggested that Pythian 1 was presented to the world at the Aitnaia festival.36
This possibility is envisaged for Nemean 1, written for Chromios of Aitna around
the same time as Pythian 1, in an ancient note based on Didymus. Schol. Nem. 1.7b
(III 11.25–12.4 Dr.) = Didym. fr. 37 Braswell states that ‘Hieron’s associates used to
sing the epinicians which had been composed for the crown-bearing games at the
contest and festival of Zeus Aitnaios. Hence Didymos says it is credible that the
epinician for Chromios’ Nemean victory was composed for the reason that it was
meant to be sung by the gathering at the festival.’37 We do not know the origin of

35 Morrison 2007: 66–7; cf. Athanassaki 2009: 250.

36 Thus e.g. Wilamowitz 1922: 298, Cingano 1995: 9, Hose 2000: 165, Currie 2005: 18, 2011: 274–5
with n. 25, Morgan 2015: 111, 115 with n. 107, Lewis 2019: 149–50. On the Aitnaia see II.1, 9–10 with
n. 21. The evidence tells against Morrison (2007: 67) who surmised that the Aitnaia were celebrated
in Syracuse, in an attempt to reconcile the idea of a premiere at the festival, which has some ancient
support (below), with his doubts that Pythian 1 was first performed in Aitna (above).
37 Ζηνὸς Αἰτναίου χάριν: … παρόσον ἐν τῷ ἀγῶνι καὶ ἐν τῇ πανηγύρει τοῦ Αἰτναίου Διὸς ᾖδον οἱ
περὶ τὸν Ἱέρωνα τοὺς ἐπὶ τοῖς στεφανίταις ἀγῶσι πεποιημένους ἐπινίκους [καὶ ᾖδον]. πιθανὸν οὖν
φησιν ὁ Δίδυμος καὶ τὸν ἐπὶ τῆς Χρομίου Νεμεακῆς νίκης ἐπίνικον ἕνεκα τούτου συντετάχθαι, ὑπὲρ
τοῦ μέλλειν αὐτὸν ὑπὸ τῆς πανηγύρεως ᾀσθήσεσθαι. Transl. Currie 2005: 17 (slightly adapted).
14 Introduction

the information which led Didymus to his assumption, but it looks too detailed to
be a mere inference from the ode (Nem. 1.4–7). The scholion therefore provides
some support for the hypothesis that Pythian 1 was first performed at the Aitnaia
of 470. This would lend particular poignancy not only to Pindar’s prayer to Zeus
Aitnaios (29–30), but also to his description of Zeus in the proem, with thunderbolt
and sceptre crowned by a (sleeping) eagle (5–10). A similar image found on con-
temporary Aitnaian coins has been thought to represent the appearance of the cult
statue of Zeus Aitnaios mentioned in schol. Ol. 6.162a (n. 21), and one could hardly
overestimate the impact Pindar’s poetry would have had on an audience which
was in the process of honouring the god and perhaps even stood facing his image.38

3 Pindar’s Strategy of Praise

In Pythian 1 Pindar goes far beyond traditional epinician motifs, such as praise
of the victor and the glory he confers upon his family and community (the main
purpose of the genre) or the danger of arousing public envy (cf. 81–100, 85–6a nn.).
Even among victory odes for rulers (if one excludes Pythians 2 and 3, which are
unusual in many other ways), Pythian 1 stands out for its emphasis on Hieron’s
non-athletic achievements, that is his martial exploits at Himera and Kyme and his
foundation of Aitna. Careful analysis of Pindar’s encomiastic strategy suggests that
the aim of Pythian 1 was not only to extol Hieron, but also to legitimise his rule, and
that of the Deinomenid dynasty, in the face of latent opposition.39
The thwarted attack by Thrasydaios of Akragas in 472, which Diodorus Siculus
(11.53.5) says cost the lives of some two thousand Syracusans, will have reminded
Hieron that military threats did not only come from non-Greeks (cf. II.1, 8). More­
over, his advanced age and prolonged illness (46, 50b–7nn.) must have posed ques-
tions of securing his rule. Given that neither the Deinomenids nor Aitna lasted
long after Hieron’s death (II.1, 10), one wonders whether signs of instability were
already visible in the late 470s and whether they were one reason why the foun-
dation of Aitna was celebrated on such an unprecendented scale. Finally, it has
been suggested that Hieron had to deal with charges from the mainland Greeks
that the Deinomenids, especially Gelon, did not send military aid against the Per-

38 Cf. II.1, 9–10 and 5–12n. Apart from the coins, there is no archaeological evidence for the cult
of Zeus Aitnaios in Aitna. Presumably the cult statue stood in his sanctuary (as the Phidias Zeus of
Olympia) and was revealed to the public at the festival, either by opening the temple doors or, if its
size permitted, by being carried outside (cf. Vonderstein 2006: 158–9).
39 Cf. Pfeijffer 2005: 37.
 Pythian 1 in Context 15

sians.40 While there is no hard evidence for this notion, the fact that Herodotus
devotes considerable space to an abortive joint mission by Athens and Sparta to
Gelon (7.153–67) shows that it may have a historical basis. It would provide a partial
explanation for the Deinomenids’ eagerness to put themselves on the pan-Hellenic
stage, for which Pythian 1 is the principal literary witness.
Pindar’s double strategy of praise emerges gradually as the poem progresses.
The theme of music and harmony, which dominates the first half of the proem
(1–12), is later transferred to the political sphere when Pindar asks Zeus to assist
Hieron in leading his people to ‘harmonious peace’ (69–70 (n.); cf. I, 5–6). Together
these two passages depict Hieron not only as a divinely favoured ruler, but also as
an exceptionally cultured one, whose appreciation for music and poetry translates
into his style of government. This far supersedes the praise Pindar and Bacchylides
lavish elsewhere on Hieron’s musical connoisseurship41 and accurately reflects his
programme of political propaganda through the arts, especially poetry.42
The last point also applies to Pindar’s claim in 32–3 that the herald at Delphi
announced Hieron as a victor from Aitna rather than Syracuse, as Bacch. 4.1–3 and
P. Oxy. 222 suggest (II.2, 11–12). This small ‘correction of the truth’, if such it is, helps
Pindar to subordinate the Pythian chariot victory to the foundation of Aitna (29–40,
30b–3a nn.). Hieron is in fact first mentioned as κλεινὸς οἰκιστήρ (31), a term that
is associated with the worship of founder-heroes and probably resonated strongly
with the ailing tyrant, who actually was so honoured for a time after his death
(30b–2a n.; cf. II.1, 10).
Another sign of Hieron’s desire for political stability in Syracuse and Aitna is
Pindar’s attempt, in Pythian 1 and elsewhere, to portray the Deinomenid rule as a
hereditary monarchy, with both Hieron and his son Deinomenes termed βασιλεύς
(58–60, 60, 67–8 (βασιλεῦσιν) nn.). In accordance with this, Aitna is implicitly hailed
as a new Sparta, the only contemporary monarchy in mainland Greece. The ide-
alised picture of Aitna’s Dorian constitution in 61–70 elegantly glosses over the
violence that was involved in its foundation and any lingering tensions, which
led to the overthrow of the old regime in the late 460s (61–70, 67–8, 69–70 (δᾶμον
γεραίρων) nn.; cf. I, 5, II.1, 9).

40 Hubbard 2004: 74–5.

41 Ol. 1.14–17 ἀγλαΐζεται δὲ καί / μουσικᾶς ἐν ἀώτῳ, / οἷα παίζομεν φίλαν / ἄνδρες ἀμφὶ θαμὰ
τράπεζαν, 103–5, 6.96–7 ἁδύλογοι δέ νιν / λύραι μολπαί τε γινώσκοντι, Bacch. 3.71 [ἰοπλό]κων τε
μέρο[ς ἔχοντ]α Μουσᾶν, 85 φρονέοντι συνετὰ γαρύω (cf. Ol. 2.83–6, of Theron), 5.3–6 γνώσῃ μὲν
[ἰ]οστεφάνω̣ ν / Μοισᾶν γλυκ[ύ]δωρον ἄγαλ̣μ̣α, τῶν γε νῦν / αἴ τις ἐπιχθονίων, / ὀρθῶς. Cf. Morgan
2015: 91–3.
42 For the poetic celebration of Aitna see ch. II.4.
16 Introduction

Hieron’s military achievements occupy even more space than Aitna. Whereas
the new city fits into epinician primarily as the place that gained kudos from Hier-
on’s victory,43 there is a closer link between martial and athletic triumphs, not least
because many sporting disciplines, including chariot-racing, originate in military
practice.44 It was thus easy for Pindar to merge the two spheres in Pythian 1 by
applying the motif of the ‘victory crown’ to both: 37 (35b–8n.) στεφάνοισί <νιν>
ἵπποις τε κλυτάν, 50 (48b–50a n.) πλούτου στεφάνωμ᾽ ἀγέρωχον, 100 (99–100n.)
στέφανον ὕψιστον.
Nevertheless, in order to accommodate Hieron’s military deeds to epinician,
which only ever knows one victor, Pindar again had to bend the truth slightly by
presenting him as more or less solely responsible not only for the success at Kyme,
but also for that at Himera, which was largely due to Gelon (II.1, 8–9; cf. 47–50a,
79–80nn.). On this basis Hieron’s exploits are raised to new encomiastic heights. The
comparison with Philoctetes (50–7) introduces the Trojan War as a paradigm for
especially Kyme and casts Hieron in the light of an epic hero who made the decisive
intervention, despite serious physical weakness (cf. 46–57, 54–5, 47–8a (τλάμονι
ψυχᾷ παρέμειν᾽), 50b–7nn.). When subsequently Himera and Kyme are paralleled
with Salamis and Plataea, Pindar taps into the contemporary political rhetoric of
the mainland Greeks who justifiably saw their freedom preserved by their unex-
pected defeat of the Persians (71–80, 72b–5a, 75b–80nn.). Hieron thus emerges as
the saviour of all Greece (75) at the mythical as well as the historical level.45 What
better way to advertise one’s ambitions for pan-Hellenic recognition?
In terms of sheer material for praise, the ode could have ended here, after
the fourth triad, as Pindar himself appears to suggest (81–4n.; cf. I, 6–7). But he
continues with a eulogy, masked as poetic advice, of Hieron as a ‘good ruler’ who

43 Cf. 31 (30b–2a) ἐκύδανεν πόλιν, 36–8 (35b–8n.) δόξαν φέρει / λοιπὸν ἔσσεσθαι στεφάνοισί ν<ιν>
(Aitna) ἵπποις τε κλυτάν / καὶ σὺν εὐφώνοις θαλίαις ὀνυμαστάν.
44 Cf. the praise of Hieron’s and Chromios’ valour in Pyth. 2.18–20, 63–5 and Nem. 9.34–43 re-
spectively and the parallel mention of military and athletic prowess in Nem. 1.16–18 (of Sicily)
ὤπασε δὲ Κρονίων πολέμου μναστῆρά οἱ χαλκεντέος / λαὸν ἵππαιχμον, θαμὰ δὴ καὶ Ὀλυμπιάδων
φύλλοις ἐλαιᾶν χρυσέοις / μιχθέντα. The participation of eminent warriors in athletic contests has
a long mythical tradition. To judge by the literary and pictorial evidence, the two best-known cases
in Pindar’s time were the funeral games for Patroclus (Il. 23.262–897, where the largest part of
the narrative is devoted to the chariot race) and those for Pelias, which were extensively treated
by Stesichorus (frr. 1–4 Finglass), very probably after an epic source (see Davies–Finglass 2014:
209–29). The four pan-Hellenic crown games and many smaller competitions, were thought to have
originated in funeral games (Roller 1981: 107–8 nn. 4, 5; cf. Davies–Finglass 2014: 217)
45 Pfeijffer 2005: 37. The correspondence between myth and history is underscored by Pindar’s
use of epic forms and vocabulary not only in the story of Philoctetes (50b–1a (Φιλοκτήταο), 52b–3,
54–5nn.), but also in his description of Hieron’s battles (72–5a n.).
 Pythian 1 in Context 17

makes wise use of his status and wealth and therefore deserves ‘imperishable fame’
through song, as a primus inter pares at the aristocratic symposia of mainland
Greece (cf. 81–100, 85–100, 86b, 89–90, 91–2a, 94b–100nn.). The positive example
of Croesus of Lydia (94b–100, 94b nn.) and the negative one of Phalaris of Akragas
(95–8n.) illustrate Pindar’s often abstract and highly metaphorical statements and
adhortations. The story of Croesus’ rescue from the pyre by Apollo (and Zeus) is first
extensively told in Bacch. 3, composed for Hieron’s Olympic chariot victory of 468.
But it must be implied here, and one wonders whether the tyrant asked Bacchylides
for a more elaborate treatment of a tale that is bound to have appealed to him for
the public image it conveyed.
It is only at the end of Pythian 1 that one can understand the full encomiastic
import of the Typhos-episode (13–28). It is hardly coincidence that the subterranean
extent of the monster, from Mt. Etna to the area of Kyme, corresponds to Hieron’s
dominion, which thus receives a central position in the order of the world.46 And
scholars regularly draw parallels between Zeus’ victory over Typhos and Hieron’s
defeat of his enemies and the following reigns of peace and prosperity.47 Yet unlike
in Nemeans 1 and 9, where Chromios is quite explicitly compared to Heracles (see
1–12, 46nn.), Pindar in Pythian 1 refrains from openly likening Hieron to Zeus; the
tyrant still requires his support, as Pindar’s repeated invocations prove (29–30,
67–70, 71–5; cf. I, 4–5, 6). ‘The propagandistic potential inherent [here] is <nev-
ertheless> immense. Through the connection with the highest of gods, Hieron is
portrayed as the most powerful human of his time, and questioning his authority
emerges as an act of arrogance comparable to the transgressions of Tantalus [in
Olympian 1] or Ixion [in Pythian 2]’.48
Occasionally a warning of future upheaval has been read into the ‘foundation
myth’ of Aitna and their associated prayers (61–70),49 and the same could be said
about the Typhos-episode. But such subversive undertones, appealing as they may
be to modern political scepticism, are alien to panegyric of all times. It is true that
Typhos persists in posing the risk of volcanic eruptions and that the Dorian migra-
tions, like the establishment of Aitna, were not a peaceful process. Yet there is no

46 Lewis 2019: 162–3.

47 E.g. Schroeder 1922: on 70 ff., Burton 1962: 104–5, Köhnken 1970: 13 with n. 3, Cingano 1995:
14, 18–19, Pfeijffer 2005: 20, 37–40, Morgan 2015: 313–18 and Meister 2019: 367–8 (with further
literature in n. 11). Cf. 1–28, 13–28, 50b–7, 69–70 (σύμφωνον ἐς ἡσυχίαν), 71–80 (end), 72b–5a (τὰν
πρὸ Κύμας), 79–80 (πολεμίων ἀνδρῶν καμόντων) nn.
48 Meister 2019: 369, who also notes that the association of Hieron with Zeus, i.e. of a mortal with
a deity (rather than a hero like Heracles or Achilles), is unique in epinician. Meister has examined
this relationship throughout Pindar’s odes for Hieron and his associates.
49 See Mezger 1880: on 67, Burton 1962: 104.
18 Introduction

notion that Typhos will ever escape – such is the power of Zeus. And Sparta, the pro-
totype Aitna’s ‘divinely-fashioned freedom’ (61 θεοδμάτῳ σὺν ἐλευθερίᾳ), remains
firm and has recently played a decisive role in repelling the Persians. By the same
token, Pindar implies, Hieron stands on the right side and will, with the help of Zeus,
continue to keep his internal and external enemies at bay.50 The warning, if any was
intended, was directed at the opponents of his rule.51

4 Other Poetry on Hieron and Aitna

It has rightly been said that Aitna ‘may have been the most celebrated city founda-
tion ever’,52 and the same is likely to be true, mutatis mutandis, of Hieron’s Pythian
victory of 470. If one considers the literary productions alone,53 six poetic works, in
addition to Pythian 1, can be certainly or with varying probability associated with
one or both of these occasions.54 They include lyric and dramatic compositions by
the most eminent poets of the time: Pindar, Bacchylides, Aeschylus and possibly also
Simonides. All are interesting in their own right, but it will be particularly profita-
ble to examine them in context for thematic overlaps, or indeed intertextual rela-
tionships, with each other and Pythian 1. The following discussions are arranged by

50 Cf. 71–80n. (end). Athanassaki (2003: 119–21) rightly concedes that the ‘colonial violence’ which
shines through the Typhos-myth ‘is … sanctioned through its subordination to the cardinal cos­
mogo­nic issue, the victory of cosmos over chaos, thus minimizing mortal transgression’ (121).
51 Pindar employed a similar encomiastic technique in Nemean 9, where the myth of Adrastos and
Amphiaraos (8–27) emphasises the dangers of civic dissension and external war. This is followed
by a prayer to Zeus to prevent further Carthaginian attacks and grant perpetual good rule to the
Aitnaians (28–33) and by praise of their and Chromios’ prowess (33–43). Since Chromios was almost
certainly regent of Aitna at the time of the ode (474?), Pindar effectively presents him as the solution
to the double threat (cf. Morgan 2015: 411–12).
52 Dougherty 1993: 84.
53 For Aitnaian coinage aimed at promoting the new city see I, 4, II.1, 9–10, II.2, 14 and 5–12n.
54 I exclude Pi. frr. 91 (= Porph. de abst. 3.16.5), 92, 93 (= Strab. 13.4.6 + schol. Il. 2.783 (I 168 Erbse)
(fr. 92)), which refer to different versions and aspects of the Typhos-myth (cf. 13–28n. (105 n. 9)).
Porphyrius cites a Pindaric prosodion as his source. Ever since Boeckh (1821: II.2 589, 618), frr. 92
and 93 have been attributed to the same poem because of their similar subject-matter (though
Boeckh preferred a skolion for Hieron). But there are no compelling reasons for this, nor indeed for
taking frr. 92 and 93 together (D’Alessio 1997: 39–40, who points out that Pindar mentions Typhos
three times in his epinicians alone and that we should have been equally tempted to join the dac-
tylo-epitrite frr. 92 and 93 with Pyth. 1.17–19, which Strabo also quotes, had the latter ode not sur-
vived complete). It is conceivable, however, that the prosodion represented by fr. 91 was composed
for the Aitnaians after they were impressed by the Typhos-episode in Pythian 1.
 Pythian 1 in Context 19

poetic genre (lyric before drama) and internally, as far as possible, by decreasing
likelihood that the work in question belongs to the Pythian victory and/or Aitna.

a) Bacchylides 4

Bacchylides’ Fourth Epinician has already been discussed for its most salient dif-
ferences from Pythian 1, which are thought to derive from its likely performance
immediately at Delphi (ch. II.2, 12). But one also needs to remember that, despite
its brevity and consequent lack of a myth, Bacch. 4 is the more ‘normal’ epinician
because it centres on the victory. In Pythian 1 any mention of Hieron’s Delphic cha­
riot-victory and hope of further such success serves the glorification of Aitna (30–3,
35–7, 58–60), whereas in Bacch. 4 his illustrious series of Pythian and Olympian
horse victories (4–18) is a tribute to him alone. However, it is noteworthy that the
two poems end on essentially the same sentiment: Bacch. 4.18–20 τί φέ̣ρτερον ἢ
θ̣εο̣ῖσ̣ιν / φίλον ἔοντα παντο[δ]α̣πῶν / λαγχάνειν ἄπο μοῖρα[ν] ἐ̣σ̣θλῶν; ~ Pyth. 1.99–
100 τὸ δὲ παθεῖν εὖ πρῶτον ἀέθλων· εὖ δ᾽ ἀκούειν δευτέρα μοῖρ᾽· ἀμφοτέροισι δ᾽
ἀνήρ / ὃς ἂν ἐγκύρσῃ καὶ ἕλῃ, στέφανον ὕψιστον δέδεκται. It is as if Pindar con-
sciously returned to ‘epinician mode’ at the end of his ode (cf. 99–100n.).
Other resemblances between the poems are less obvious and probably coinci-
dental. In Bacch. 4.7–8 Maas plausibly restored ἀ̣[ναξιφόρ]μιγγος Οὐρ[αν]ί ̣ας. The
adjective is otherwise only attested in Ol. 2.1 ἀναξιφόρμιγγες ὕμνοι (for Theron of
Akragas, 476). Whether or not Bacchylides alluded to this ode,55 it is interesting
that Pindar expresses the opposite relationship between lyre and singer / song in
Pyth. 1.2–3 (τᾶς …) πείθονται δ᾽ ἀοιδοὶ σάμασιν (cf. 2b–4n.). But Pindar more likely
recalled his own earlier composition than the passage in Bacch. 4, which is less
close in concept and which he may or may not have known (ch. II.2, 12). By the same
token, Pyth. 1.79 παίδεσσιν … Δεινομένεος has a much lesser claim to being con-
nected with Bacch. 4.13 Δεινομένεος … υἱόν than with Bacch. 5.35–6 Δεινομένευς … /
παῖδες (for Hieron, 476), where the context is similar (79–80n.).

55 Maehler (1982: 72 n. 20) is sceptical on the ground that Hieron did not necessarily know the
­epinician for Theron. Yet if Bacchylides had in mind not only the honorand, but also potentially
overlapping and indeed subsequent audiences, an intertextual reference is possible (Morrison
2007: 88).
20 Introduction

b) Bacchylides fr. 20C

The remains of this enkōmion for Hieron consist of four reasonably well-pre-
served single strophes in dactylo-epitrites and fragments of another four where
little beyond the occasional word can be identified.56 It is a sympotic song (3–6
Ἱ]έρων[ί ⏑ –] (…) [κα]ὶ συμπόταις ἄνδρεσσι π[έμπειν]), which includes a current as
well as two previous hippic victories among the praise for its honorand (4 ξα̣νθαῖσιν
ἵπποις, 7–11), thus showing the fluidity between epinician and other types of enco-
miastic poetry. Since the plural ἵπποις points to a chariot-victory57 and the earlier
triumphs are attributed to Hieron’s famed race-horse Pherenikos, which certainly
won at Olympia in 476 (cf. 9–10 ἐπ᾽ Αλ-] / φ[ε]ῷ) and at Delphi in 478 (cf. 8 lacuna?),58
the only possible occasions for Pindar’s enkōmion are Hieron’s Delphic victory of
470 or his Olympian one of 468.
Cingano (1991) convincingly argued for 470 on the ground that Pindar’s poetic
announcement of his intention to send the song [Αἴ]τ̣ναν ἐς ἐΰκτιτον (7) would only
suit a celebration in Aitna, which is likely to have taken place in 470/69.59 By con-
trast, there is no information about where Hieron marked his Olympian victory of
468, for which he commissioned Bacch. 3.
If Bacch. fr. 20C was composed for the same victory as Pythian 1 and Bacch. 4,
to be performed at a private symposium following the public celebration at Aitna,
the similarities in wording and content between the poems would become intertex-
tual links, once more raising the questions if and how far Pindar and Bacchylides
collaborated for Hieron.60
Under this scenario, as Budelmann (n. 60) pointed out, Bacchylides’ enkōmion
would be the first song to fulfil Pindar’s implicit promise at the end of Pythian 1
(95–8) of future sympotic praise for Hieron (cf. III.1, 29, 33–4). The same sense of

56 Restored from P. Oxy. 1361 + 2081e. The length of the song is uncertain, and Maehler tentatively
posits the beginning of a new poem after the sixth stanza. The title ΕΓΚΩΜΙΑ for the book that
covers Bacch. frr. 20, 20A–G, 21 goes back to Körte (1918: 137–40). It has become established as a
better match for the type of song represented than ΣΚΟΛΙΑ or ΠΑΡΟΙΝΙΑ (Grenfell–Hunt 1915: 65,
66). No ancient evidence survives.
57 For ἵπποι meaning ‘horses and chariot’ or simply ‘chariot’ in epinician see e.g. Ol. 1.41, Pyth. 5.21,
Isth. 1.62, Bacch. 3.4; Slater s.v. ἵππος, Cingano 1991: 32 with n. 6.
58 The connective τε following … ἐπ᾽ Αλ-] / φ[ε]ῷ in 10 shows that another victory of the horse,
at a different location, must be mentioned in the preceding lines, and Delphi is the only candidate
(cf. Bacch. 4.14–16). Whether Hieron’s race-horse victory at the Pythian Games of 482 was also
already owed to Pherenikos is irrelevant here.
59 Cf. II.2, 13–14; Maehler 1997: 333–4 ~ 2004: 251–2, Morgan 2015: 248–50.
60 Budelmann 2012: 179 n. 18. For the possibility that Bacch. 4 and Pythian 1 represent co-ordi-
nated efforts see II.2, 12.
 Pythian 1 in Context 21

continuation is evoked by the openings of the poems. Both Pythian 1 and Bacch.
fr. 20C begin with a reference to the lyre. But while Pindar calls upon the instrument
as an initiator of song and dance (1–4), Bacchylides starts ‘with the command not to
stop the music yet’ (1–2 μήπω λιγυαχέ̣[α κοίμα] / βάρβιτον),61 as if a day of intense
festivity was drawing to a close and he wished to add one more song.
On a verbal level, the Homeric epithet ἐΰκτιτος applied to Aitna in Bacch.
fr. 20C.7 resonates with the references to Hieron as the city’s founder in Pyth. 1.31
(30b–2a n.) κλεινὸς οἰκιστήρ and 61–2a (n.) τῷ πόλιν κείναν … / … ἔκτισσε and with
his appellation as κτίστορ Αἴτνας in Pi. fr. 105a.3 (below). In addition, both Pythian
1 and the enkōmion honour Hieron with a ‘superlative vaunt’, a rhetorical trope
often employed in eulogy to ‘assert the superiority of the subject over all others’:62
Pyth. 1.49–50 οἵαν οὔτις Ἑλλάνων δρέπει / πλούτου στεφάνωμ᾽ ἀγέρωχον ~ Bacch.
fr. 20C.21–4 [οὔτι]ν᾽ ἀνθρώπων ἕ̣[τερον καθορᾷ] / λε[ύκι]ππος Ἀώς / τόσσ̣[ο]ν ἐφ᾽
ἁλικία[ι] / φέγγος κατ᾽ ἀνθρώπ[ους φέρουσα].63 Here the shared use of the formula
οὔτις + genitive, which occurs at least once more in Bacchylides (8.22–5),64 but
nowhere else in Pindar, is worth noting. More importantly, however, both ‘vaunts’
are (indirectly in Pythian 1) preceded by a summary priamel emphasising the
poet’s unique talent for praise: Pyth. 1.41–3 (41–2a n.) ἐκ θεῶν γὰρ μαχαναὶ πᾶσαι
βροτέαις ἀρεταῖς, / καὶ σοφοὶ καὶ χερσὶ βιαταὶ περίγλωσσοί τ᾽ ἔφυν. ἄνδρα δ᾽ ἐγὼ
κεῖνον / αἰνῆσαι μενοινῶν ~ Bacch. fr. 20C.19–20 [τέχν]αι γε μέν εἰσ̣[ι]ν ἅπα̣[σαι] /
[μυρία]ι· σὺν θεῷ δὲ θ[α]ρ̣σή[σας ⏑ – –] (πιφαύσκω suppl. Maas, θροήσω Schade-
waldt). If the poems were performed on the same day, these subtle parallels could
have been perceived.
Finally, the catalogues of Hieron’s equestrian victories in Bacch. 4.4–18 and
fr. 20C.4, 7–11 can hardly be coincidental or due to lack of poetic imagination. And
they stand out sufficiently in each case to be remembered, even after some interval

61 Morgan 2015: 350. On the supplement, and possible alternatives that would not change the
meaning, see Maehler 1997 ~ 2004: on 1–2. Technically, the barbitos is a different type of lyre from
the phorminx and particularly associated with sympotic performance (West 1992: 50–1, 57–9, 348).
62 Race 1987: 139 n. 23; cf. 47–50a n.
63 Despite the heavy supplementation, this must essentially be what Bacchylides wrote. For [οὔτι]ν᾽
ἀνθρώπων ἕ̣[τερον … (H. Fränkel, Schadewaldt) cf. Pyth. 2.58–60 εἰ δέ τις / … λέγει / ἕτερόν τιν᾽ ἀν᾽
Ἑλλάδα τῶν πάροιθε γενέσθαι ὑπέρτερον and Bacch. 8.22–5 οὔτις ἀνθρώπων κ[αθ᾽ Ἑλλά-] / νας … / …
π[λεῦ-] / νας ἐδέξατο νίκας. In 24 Snell’s κατ᾽ ἀνθρώπ[ους φέρουσα] seems preferable to Maas’ κατ᾽
ἀνθρώπ[ων χέοντα], even though it requires, somewhat counter-intuitively, τόσσ̣[ο]ν to be taken of
Hieron rather than with φέγγος. With χέοντα and metaphorical φέγγος ‘it seems difficult to see in
what sense Hieron could have ‘showered mankind’ [rather than e.g. ‘his people’] with joy, glory or
benefactions’ (Maehler 2004: on 23–4, against his text and note in 1997).
64 At the beginning of Bacch. fr. 20B.24, where a word shaped – ⏑ is missing, Maehler prints Snell’s
[οὔτις] ἀνθρώπων, but the passage is too lacunose for one to be confident.
22 Introduction

and without a copy of the earlier poem, which we can assume Hieron to have pos-
sessed (ch. V.1, 45). This thematic link tells us nothing about the order in which the
epinician and the enkōmion were produced, but again it makes more sense if the
latter also belonged to 470.65
Bacch. fr. 20C therefore is a fitting (last?) member in the chain of lyric praise
poetry composed for Hieron’s Pythian chariot-victory and the foundation of Aitna.
It sides with Bacch. 4 in putting more emphasis on Hieron’s athletic prowess (in fact
it alludes to all his victories to date), while at the same time being firmly associated
with Aitna. In other words, it is a local reprise of the Delphic eulogy, which under-
pins the hopes expressed for the city and its founder in Pythian 1.

c) Pindar fr. 105a, b

(a) ⊗ Σύνες ὅ τοι λέγω,

ζαθέων ἱερῶν ἐπώνυμε,
πάτερ, κτίστορ Αἴτνας·

(b) νομάδεσσι γὰρ ἐν Σκύθαις ἀλᾶται στρατῶν,

ὃς ἀμαξοφόρητον οἶκον οὐ πέπαται,
νομάδεσσι γὰρ ἐν Σκύθαις ἀλᾶται στρατῶν,

Understand what I tell you, | you whose name means holy temples, |
father, founder of Aitna.

For among the nomadic Scythians the man is excluded from the folk, | who
does not possess a house borne on a wagon, | and he goes without glory
(transl. Race).

These two fragments ascribed to a hyporchēma for Hieron are transmitted in

several Pindaric and Aristophanic scholia, and the first line of fr. 105a also acquired
a substantial life of its own.66 Ancient scholars identified the poem as a ‘free extra’
to Pythian 2 (Schol. Pyth. 2.127 (II 52.7–10 Dr.)), whose date and occasion, unfortu-
nately, are insecure, except that it was for a chariot-victory (4–5, 8, 10–12). Although
a good case can be made for dating the epinician late in Hieron’s career, to 470 or
even 468,67 this provides no firm evidence for the hyporchēma because we do not

65 Cf. Cingano 1991: 34 with n. 11.

66 See the testimonial apparatus in Snell–Maehler.
67 Cingano 1995: 43–7.
 Pythian 1 in Context 23

know on what grounds the Alexandrians connected the two works or whether they
belong together at all.68
However, there is external evidence that Pindar in the hyporchēma not only
used κτίστορ Αἴτνας as one appellation for Hieron that was possible after 476/5, but
that the song was more closely associated with the city’s foundation. It is parodied
in Ar. Av. 915–48, where a wandering poet offers to sing the praises of the newly-es-
tablished Cloudcuckooland in exchange for new clothes. The context requires that
a substantial part of the Athenian theatre audience was familiar with the idea of
encomiastic poetry in honour of a city-foundation and that Pindar’s hyporchēma
was known in precisely that way.69 This does not prove that the poem was composed
together with Pythian 1, but it lends support to the possibility.
In any case it is legitimate to interpret the song in conjunction with the other
Aitna-poetry. For lack of context, it is difficult to make anything of the Scythian ref-
erence in Pi. fr. 105b, which need not even come from the same poem as fr. 105a.70
If the fragments do belong together, one may imagine a contrast between Aitna,
which is expected to provide a stable home for its settlers and to be destined for
fame (Pyth. 1.37 κλυτάν), and the migratory ways of the Scythians with their custom
of denying κλέος those who did not possess a waggon-borne house of their own.71
By contrast, the opening address to Hieron (fr. 105a) recalls several contem-
porary themes. Its first line σύνες ὅ τοι λέγω may simply serve to arrest the audi-
ence’s attention, but it could also indicate that Pindar is about to adopt a tone that
mixes praise with ‘advice’, similar to the fifth triad of Pythian 1 (81–100n.). This is
followed by ζαθέων ἱερῶν ἐπώνυμε, an ingenious pun on Hieron’s name and his
role(s) as priest of Demeter and Persephone and probably Zeus Aitnaios, which
are also alluded to in Ol. 6.94–6 (cf. II.1, 9 with n. 21, 29-30a n. (εὐκάρποιο γαίας
μέτωπον)). In the third line πάτερ is best understood ἀπὸ κοινοῦ with both ζαθέων
ἱερῶν ἐπώνυμε and κτίστορ Αἴτνας. The title reinforces Hieron’s status as religious
official and as ‘founder of Aitna’ by evoking the positive associations of paternal
authority and care (cf. Pyth. 3.71 ξείνοις … θαυμαστὸς πατήρ).72 Similarly κτίστωρ,
which echoes Pyth. 1.31 κλεινὸς οἰκιστήρ and related passages (above, 21), hints at

68 It is by no means certain that the hyporchēma represents the ‘Kastor-song’ (τὸ Καστόρειον) of
Pyth. 2.69, as schol. Pyth. 2.127 (II 52.7–10 Dr.) indicates. See Cingano 1995: on Pyth. 2.69–71 for the
possibilities that have been proposed.
69 Cf. Athanassaki 2016: 112, Hadjimichael 2019: 77–80, 83, 91.
70 Dunbar (1995: on Ar. Av. 941–3) points out that the introduction to the fragment in schol. Ar.
Av. 941b Holwerda καὶ ταῦτα τὰ ἐκ Πινδάρου is ambiguous as to its provenance.
71 Cf. Morgan 2015: 323–4. There is no independent evidence for this snippet of Scythian life. The
explanation in schol. Ar. Av. 942a Holwerda that, when the Scythians packed up to move for winter,
those without a waggon were dishonoured may just be an inference from Pindar.
72 Morgan 2015: 323.
24 Introduction

the posthumous honours as founder-hero which Hieron hoped to, and did, obtain
(ch. II.1, 10, 30b–2a n.).

d) Simonides

There is a host of anecdotal evidence that connects Simonides with Sicily and specif-
ically with the court of Hieron (Sim. TT 55–61 Poltera). While the individual stories
may not amount to much, their cumulative weight points to a strong tradition with
a basis in fact.73
Relevant poems are harder to trace. Simonides composed a victory ode for the
runner Astylos of Kroton and Syracuse (fr. 10 Poltera), and according to schol. Pi.
Isth. 2 inscr. a (III 212.18–21 Dr.), he also wrote at least one epinician for Xenocrates
of Akragas: οὗτος δὲ ὁ Ξενοκράτης οὐ μόνον Ἴσθμια νενίκηκεν ἵπποις [before 476:
cf. Ol. 2.49–51], ἀλλὰ καὶ Πύθια κδ´ Πυθιάδα (490) … καὶ Σιμωνίδης δὲ ἐπαινῶν αὐτὸν
ἀμφοτέρας αὐτοῦ τὰς νίκας κατατάσσει (Sim. fr. 513 PMG = fr. spur. 350 Poltera).74
However, it has been suggested that Σιμωνίδης here is an error for Πίνδαρος, since
Pindar not only celebrated Xenocrates’ Delphic chariot-victory in Pythian 6 and
the Isthmian one, posthumously, in Isthmian 2, but also mentions both victories
together in the latter ode (Isth. 2.12–21, where he adds a third success at the Pana-
thenaic Festival in Athens).75
As for the Deinomenids, there is nothing to support the idea that Simonides
commemorated Gelon’s Olympic chariot-victory of 488.76 By contrast, the fourth-cen-
tury-AD rhetor Himerius in a propemptic speech refers to a parting-song which

73 Molyneux 1992: 224–6, Morgan 2015: 93–4. Most of the sources are late, but some information
goes back to at least the fourth century. Schol. Pi. Ol. 2.29d (I 68.23–69.22 Dr.) states that Didymus
(= fr. 2b Braswell) relied on Timaeus (= FGrH 566 F 93b) for his account of how Simonides reconciled
Hieron and Theron over a political conflict, and Xenophon’s choice of Simonides as Hieron’s inter-
locutor in his Hieron indicates an established association between the two men.
74 See Molyneux 1992: 233–5 (who favours the Isthmian victory as the occasion) and Morgan 2015:
94–5.
75 Cf. Podlecki 1979: 6–7, 1980: 388 n. 37 and Poltera 2008: 586–7, who therefore included the
Pindar scholion among the spuria of Simonides. The double (or triple) victory listing in Isthmian 2
seems more pertinent to the argument than the one in Ol. 2.49–51, adduced by Podlecki and Pol-
tera. Given that this passage immediately follows the famous comment on the ‘mercenary Muse’
(Isth. 2.6–11), which since antiquity has been taken as a slight against Simonides (cf. schol. Isth.
2.9a (III 214.10–17 Dr.)), the change of name would become less of what Molyneux (1992: 244 n. 113)
called ‘a very odd lapse on the part of the scholiast’.
76 Molyneux 1992: 220–1, Morgan 2015: 94, against Severyns 1933: 75–6. On the pseudo-Simonid-
ean epigram for the Deinomenid brothers see 71–80n.
 Pythian 1 in Context 25

the poet is to have written for Hieron (Him. Or. 31.2 = Sim. T 59 Poltera). There is
a textual problem, which makes it unclear whether Hieron saw off Simonides or
vice versa, but we have no reason to discredit the evidence entirely.77 The fact that
Himerius repeatedly paraphrases Simonides (frr. 251, 265 Poltera) shows that he
had access to his work, whether at first hand or via anthologies, and that he could
have come accross a poem that fitted his description.
Moreover, it is interesting that Simonides told the story of how the nymph
Aitne settled a dispute between Hephaestus and Demeter over the possession of Mt.
Etna (Sim. fr. 279 Poltera = schol. Theoc. 1.65/66a Wendel): ἡ δὲ Αἴτνη Σικελίας ὄρος
ἀπὸ Αἴτνης τῆς Οὐρανοῦ καὶ Γῆς … Σιμωνίδης δὲ Αἴτνην φησὶ κρῖναι Ἥφαιστον καὶ
Δήμητραν περὶ τῆς χώρας ἐρίσαντας. This would fit a poem for Hieron celebrating
(among other things?) his foundation of Aitna.78 One only needs to remember the
prominent role Mt. Etna plays in Pythian 1 – with Ἁφαίστοιο κρουνούς used for its
volcanic fire in 25 (cf. 25–6a n.) – and the fact that in Aeschylus’ celebratory play
Aitn(ai)ai the heroine Thaleia was a daughter of Hephaestus (cf. below, 26).
Finally, we may speculate that Hieron asked Simonides to reperform the Plataea
Elegy, as part of his public agenda of equating his military efforts with those of the
Persian Wars (cf. II.3, 14–15, 16). This is evident from Pyth. 1.71–80 (where Himera
and Kyme are aligned with Salamis and Plataea), as well as from his invitation to
Aeschylus to put on Persai again in Sicily (below, 28–9). If Hieron and part of Pin-
dar’s original audience were familiar with the Plataea Elegy, the numerous echoes
of this poem in Pythian 1 acquire particular force.79 But even if they were seen only
as expressions of a shared political rhetoric, they would have served the purpose
of raising Hieron’s status by evoking the spirit of the Persian Wars and their joyful
aftermath.

77 See Poltera 2008: 55 with n. 91, who is unduly critical, although he rightly notes that the ode in
question need not have been a προπεμπτικὸς ὕμνος (Molyneux 1992: 231, Morgan 2015: 95).
78 E.g. Dougherty 1993: 91–3, Poltera 2008: 521–2, Morgan 2015: 95. Molyneux (1992: 229–31) also
suggests that the song may have been addressed to Gelon (who would have held the priesthood of
Demeter and Kore before Hieron) or Chromios. But since their associations with Simonides are
much weaker or indeed unattested, Hieron is a safer bet.
79 Cf. 1–2a (καὶ ἰοπλοκάμων … Μοισᾶν), 54–5 (Πριάμοιο πόλιν πέρσεν), 61–70, 65b–6 (ὧν κλέος
ἄνθησεν αἰχμᾶς), 72b–5a nn.
26 Introduction

e) Aeschylus, Aitn(ai)ai

According to the ancient Life of Aeschylus (T 1 § 9 TrGF), Aeschylus produced the

play Aitn(ai)ai (Women of Aitna or Nymphs of Mt. Etna)80 in Sicily, when Hieron
was founding Aitna, ‘predicting a good life for those who joined in settling the
city’ (ἐλθὼν τοίνυν εἰς Σικελίαν Ἱέρωνος τότε τὴν Αἴτνην κτίζοντος ἐπεδείξατο τὰς
Αἴτνας οἰωνιζόμενος βίον ἀγαθὸν τοῖς συνοικίζουσι τὴν πόλιν). This last formula-
tion recalls Pindar’s account of the Dorian colonisation of Aitna in Pyth. 1.61–6,
which reflects Hieron’s act of populating the city with Dorians from perhaps both
Sicily and the Peloponnese (ch. II.1, 9), as well as the ensuing prayer that with the
help of Zeus Hieron may ‘by honouring his people turn them towards harmonious
peace’ (69–71). It is probable, therefore, that Aitn(ai)ai, like Pythian 1, expressed
Hieron’s desire for pan-Sicilian, if not pan-Hellenic, recognition as a city-founder
and guarantor of peace and good order for his citizens.81
How this might have happened is, unfortunately, largely a matter of specula-
tion because very little of Aitn(ai)ai has survived. From a miscellaneous papyrus
hypothesis (P. Oxy. 2257 fr. 1.5–14 = TrGF III, 126–7) we learn that the play was set
in five different locations, all within Hieron’s sphere of influence: Aitna, Xouthia
(a region near Leontinoi), Aitna again, Leontinoi, Syracuse and an unknown place.82
The dramatic time, however, to judge by our sources, was the mythical past.83 The
action apparently evolved around the Sicilian nymph Thaleia, daughter of Heph­
aestus (Steph. Byz. π 1 (6.1–6 Billerbeck) = A. fr. 7 TrGF), who was impregnated by
Zeus and swallowed by the earth to be safe from Hera’s jealousy. In due course she
gave birth to twin sons, who were called Palikoi ‘because they have come back from
the darkness to this realm of light’ (A. fr. 6.4 TrGF πάλιν γὰρ ἵκουσ᾽ ἐκ σκότου τόδ᾽
εἰς φάος).84 The Palikoi were subsequently worshipped as (originally Sikel) deities
at a lake near Leontinoi (D. S. 11.88.6–89.8; cf. Macr. 5.19.26). The chorus probably

80 Both Αἰτναῖαι and Αἶτναι are attested as titles (TrGF III, 126). In favour of Αἰτναῖαι see recently
Poli-Palladini 2001: 212–14, who also convincingly argues that the title refers to a chorus of nymphs,
sisters or friends of the heroine Thaleia (below). Cf. Sommerstein 2008: III 6–7.
81 Fraenkel 1954: 68–71 = 1964: I 256–9.
82 The papyrus here reads καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ[ ]τ̣ηι δ(ια)περαίνετ(αι), and Pfeiffer (apud Lobel 1952:
67–8) proposed [ἐν τῷ Τεμενί]τῃ, i.e. the Temenite(s) Hill in Syracuse. This is also the location of the
theatre, where Aitn(ai)ai may have been first performed (below).
83 This suggests that ‘Aitna’ in the hypothesis means the mountain, rather than the city, as does the
fact that the bare name is likely to refer to the better-known entity. As for Leontinoi and Syracuse,
it is possible that the names in the play referred to the sites of the future Greek colonies, unless we
posit an unattested shift to historical times (Poli-Palladini 2001: 291–3).
84 Transl. Sommerstein 2008: III 9 (his emphasis).
 Pythian 1 in Context 27

consisted of local nymphs (cf. n. 80), who moved around Sicily in pursuit or search
of the heroine.85
The most extensive information on this story and our only certain verse-frag-
ment of the play (A. fr. 6 TrGF) come from Macrobius (Sat. 5.19.15–31). Whatever
Aeschylus’ exact dramatisation of the events, their local focus is evident. Thaleia’s
descent from Hephaestus connects her with Mt. Etna and may have been invented,
or introduced, by Aeschylus to account for the volcano’s recent activity, analogous to
Pindar’s epichoric version of the Typhos-myth in Pythian 1. It is then not far-fetched
to surmise that the Zeus who visited Thaleia was Zeus Aitnaios, the patron god of
Hieron’s Aitna, who is invoked in Pyth. 1.29–30. And the result of their union, the
Palikoi, are important Sikel deities who have been invested with a Greek genealogy,
presumably to legitimise the colonisation of the island.86
Finally, one can deduce from the above-mentioned note in the Life of Aeschylus
that the play contained a prophecy of the foundation of Aitna and its success as
a (Dorian?) colony. The obvious candidate for such a prediction, which may have
come together with one on the cult of the Palikoi, would have been Zeus (Aitnaios),
in order to compensate the land for Thaleia’s suffering.87 In this context it is worth
noting that Pindar too, in Pythian 1, employs the idea of the omen when he states
that Hieron’s Pythian chariot-victory bodes well for Aitna (35–8).88
This is as far as one can go without risking circular argumentation on the basis
of Pythian 1 and the other Aitna-poetry. It is equally problematic to draw in the
so-called ‘Dike Fragment’ (A. frr. 281a, b (+ fr. 451n?) TrGF), where Dike explains to
a group of men (fr. 281a.14), perhaps the chorus, how she administers the justice of
Zeus and how she reined in ‘the savage son’ of Zeus and Hera (fr. 281a.31–2), who is
usually identified as Ares. If this belongs to Aitn(ai)ai, as many scholars since Fraen-
kel (1954 = 1964: I 229–62) have assumed, one could compare the references to Hier-
on’s just rule in Pythian 1, Bacch. 4 and elsewhere (cf. 69–70, 81–100, 85–100nn.), as
well as the sleeping Ares in Pyth. 1.10–12, who symbolises the (temporary) absence
of war among humans and especially the peace Hieron has created by conquering

85 See Poli-Palladini 2001: 304.

86 So Dougherty 1991 and 1993: 88–91; cf. e.g. Poli-Palladini 2001: 319–21, Morgan 2015: 102–3.
Thatcher (2019) argues that Aitn(ai)ai presented a more sophisticated interplay between Greek
and Sikel beliefs, reflecting the ‘mixed’ culture of the colonial territories. His main evidence comes
from recent excavations at the sanctuary of the Palikoi, which revealed a strong Hellenic influence
on its architecture, but it seems nevertheless likely that most of the original audience would have
understood the play as promoting Greek, and specifically Deinomenid, hegemony.
87 Poli-Palladini 2001: 306, 308.
88 Morgan 2015: 101, who adds that the name of Aeschylus’ nymph, Thaleia, ‘bespeak[s] the festiv-
ity [θαλίαις] for which Pindar hopes the city will be famous’.
28 Introduction

the Carthaginians and Etruscans (1–28, 5–12, 10b–12a nn.).89 Yet there are strong
reasons for not assigning A. frr. 281a, b (and fr. 451n?) TrGF to Aitn(ai)ai,90 in which
case the similarities with Pythian 1 become no more than generic.
We do not know whether Aitn(ai)ai was first performed in Syracuse or Aitna,
although Syracuse with its theatre rebuilt in stone by Hieron is perhaps more
likely. Nor is there firm evidence as to when the play was produced. According
to Eratosthenes (apud schol. Ar. Ran. 1028 f Chantry) Aeschylus staged a revival of
Persai in Sicily ‘at the instigation of Hieron’ (σπουδάσαντος Ἱέρωνος), and the Life
of Aeschylus (T 1 § 18 TrGF) adds, probably also after Eratosthenes, that he thus
greatly increased his reputation (φασὶν ὑπὸ Ἱέρωνος ἀξιωθέντα ἀναδιδάξαι τοὺς
Πέρσας ἐν Σικελίᾳ καὶ λίαν εὐδοκιμεῖν). It is commonly assumed that this reper-
formance of Persai came soon after its Athenian premiere in 472, that is in 471
or 470, which might also account for some interesting connections with Pythian 1
(below). Since no earlier visit of Aeschylus to Sicily is explicitly attested, Aitn(ai)ai is
mostly dated to the same occasion,91 although the aorist participle ἀξιωθέντα in the
Life of Aeschylus perhaps indicates that he had already impressed Hieron before. In
any event, we can assume a significant overlap between the original audiences of
Aitn(ai)ai and Pythian 1, and if the play was performed close to 470, it becomes all
the more likely that Pindar knew it too.

f) Aeschylus, Persai

There can be little doubt that Hieron’s principal motive for inviting a reperformance
of Aeschylus’ Persai lay in his eagerness, attested by Pythian 1 (71–80), to promote
his military victories against the Carthaginians and Etruscans as of equal impor-
tance to those of the mainland Greeks over the Persians (cf. II.3, 14–15, 16). Like the
possible revival of Simonides’ Plataea Elegy (above, 25), putting on Persai in Syra-
cuse would have been one step for Hieron towards associating himself publicly with

89 See, most recently, Morgan 2015: 100 with n. 60.

90 Poli-Palladini (2001: 313–15) emphasises the alleged satyric nature of A. frr. 281a, b TrGF, which
Lobel (1952: 39, 40, 41) suspected on account of the otherwise non-tragic forms ὁτιή (fr. 281a.9) and
ἐρρύθμιξα (fr. 281b.4). But even if this is questioned, other caveats apply. Dike’s male interlocutor
in fr. 281a would have to be not the coryphaeus, as seems most natural, but an unknown character
(cf. Sommerstein 2008: III 278–9). Even more importantly, as Poli-Palladini points out, Fraenkel’s
hypothesis rests on his assumption that Aitn(ai)ai was an episodic Festspiel rather than a ‘proper’
tragedy. This is circular reasoning, since (as far as we can tell) the plot only becomes episodic by
the inclusion of the ‘Dike Fragment’.
91 See e.g. Herington 1967: 75–6 and Fries 2017a: 65 with n. 14 (further literature).
 Pythian 1 in Context 29

the triumphal mood that followed the unexpected defeat of the eastern forces.92
Pindar’s poem, by contrast, also had the potential to spread this notion abroad, at a
pan-Hellenic level, and to preserve it for posterity.
While it is likely that the Sicilian revival of Persai roughly coincided with
Pythian 1, there is no hard evidence to tell which came first. If Aeschylus preceded
Pindar, the resonances between Pyth. 1.71–80 and Persai can, as in the case of the
Plataea Elegy, be read as true intertextual links, which Pindar could expect at least
part of the original audience to pick up (cf. 71–80, 72b–5a nn. and above, 25). If
Persai was reperformed after Pythian 1, the similarities may again be no more than
reflections of a shared historical and poetic milieu. But it is conceivable that Pindar
knew Persai from its Athenian premiere, or indeed a reading copy, and that, as a
form of delayed praise for Hieron’s achievements, he intended future audiences to
make the relevant connections (71–80n.; cf. III.2, 36–7).93

92 Cf. Morgan 2015: 96–7.

93 We can neither prove nor disprove that Pindar was in Athens in 472. His dithyramb for the
­Athenians, which praises the city as ‘the bulwark of Greece’ (fr. 76.2 Ἑλλάδος ἔρεισμα) and its
­people for having ‘laid the shining foundation of freedom’ at Artemision (fr. 77 ὅθι παῖδες Ἀθαναίων
ἐβάλοντο φαεννάν / κρηπῖδ᾽ ἐλευθερίας) is probably earlier, but clearly follows the discourse of
‘Persian Wars’ poetry (72b–5a (Ἑλλάδ᾽ ἐξέλκων βαρείας δουλίας), 75b–7a nn.). According to Isoc.
15.166, the Athenians rewarded Pindar with a προξενία and ten thousand drachmas, which would
have increased the likelihood of future visits.
III Performance Contexts
It is not enough to attempt to reconstruct the place and occasion where an epini-
cian like Pythian 1 was first performed (cf. ch. II.2). We also need to consider the
mode of that performance and the possibility and circumstances of later revivals.
As a sub-category of Greek and ultimately Indo-European praise poetry, the purpose
of which was to generate ‘imperishable fame’ (κλέος ἄφθιτον) for the honorand,94
‘… the victory ode both predicts and invites reperformance … The ideal was to free
the victor’s fame from the confines of his own polis by creating poetry of sufficient
appeal to achieve reperformance in other cities’.95 How frequently, and in what
form, this actually happened in any particular case we cannot know, but there are
hints in fifth- and fourth-century literature that numerous works of Pindar, includ-
ing Pythian 1, were well-known. The study of reperformance thus interacts with the
early history of reception. Conversely, as in the case of location and event, we have to
rely on the odes themselves for indications of how they were first performed and po-
tentially reperformed, and how Pindar prepared his poetry for later consumption.96

1 Performance and Reperformance

After some two decades of scholarly discussion on the performance of epinician

the following broad consensus emerged in the early 2000s: (1) the premiere was
generally choral, (2) some first performances may have been by soloists, and (3) any
reperformance is likely to have been solo.97 That Pythian 1 was first performed by
a kithara-accompanied chorus is suggested by its opening (1–4), where the golden

94 The locus classicus in early Greek lyric is Ibyc. fr. S151.46–8 PMGF καὶ σύ, Πολύκρατες, κλέος
ἄφθιτον ἑξεῖς / ὡς κατ᾽ ἀοιδὰν καὶ ἐμὸν κλέος. West (2007: 63–7) explores the Indo-European back-
ground, with numerous parallels from Indo-Aryan to Celtic and Germanic.
95 Carey 2007: 209; cf. Hubbard 2004: 71. For hints at reperformance in epinician see e.g. Nem.
4.13–16 εἰ δ᾽ ἔτι ζαμενεῖ Τιμόκριτος ἁλίῳ / σὸς πατὴρ ἐθάλπετο, ποικίλον κιθαρίζων / θαμά κε, τῷδε
μέλει κλιθείς, / ὕμνον κελάδησε καλλίνικον, Isth. 2.44–6, 4.40–1, Bacch. 3.96–8 σὺν δ᾽ ἀλαθ[είᾳ]
κ̣αλῶν / καὶ μελιγλώσσου τις ὑμνήσει χάριν / Κηΐας ἀηδόνος, 9.79–82 (Currie 2004: 49 n. 4, Hadjimi-
chael 2019: 174). As in Ibyc. fr. S151.46–8 PMGF and Bacch. 3.96–8, poets frequently connect such
chances with the prestige of their own name (cf. III.2, 35 and 92b–4a n.).
96 The contested question how far the initial dissemination of Pindar’s epinicians depended on
written texts will be discussed in ch. V.1. But whatever conclusion one reaches, it is evident that
fifth-century audiences largely experienced Pindar through performance. Nevertheless, what is
said in ch. III.2 about Pindar’s strategy of ‘future-proofing’ his odes would also apply to a reading
audience.
97 Cf. Currie 2004: 49.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111128368-003
 Performance Contexts 31

lyre, Apollo and the Muses, and the plural ἀοιδοί (3), evoke the Olympian chorus
singing in unison with the one at Hieron’s victory celebration (cf. 1–28, 1–12nn.). At
the same time, however, Pindar’s description is sufficiently general also to suit a solo
rendition of the ode, a first sign of its adaptability to varying situations.98 Somewhat
paradoxically, then, Pythian 1 also contains the only potential reference to choral
reperformance of epinicians. In 97–8 the sympotic ‘songs of boys’ (παίδων ὀάροισι)
that will not feature Phalaris, but by implication Hieron, have been understood in
that way;99 yet it is more probable that the plural is generic, like φόρμιγγες in 97,
and the passage therefore provides no firm evidence for choral revivals, at sympo-
sia or otherwise.100 But they cannot be categorically excluded.
We are ill informed about the ‘logistics’ of epinician premieres. There is no
evidence as to the size of a chorus, although this probably varied according to what
the honorand wished and could afford.101 Hieron presumably went for maximum
effect, perhaps as many as fifty singers (if he could find competence on such a
scale), the size of an Athenian dithyrambic chorus. Likewise we know nothing about
costume, except that garlands were worn (e.g. Isth. 7.39), and we may assume that
the splendour of the attire again depended on the client’s desires and finances,
as mutatis mutandis in the case of Athenian dramatic chorēgia.102 The odes quite
often refer to their musical mode and/or rhythm (e.g. Ol. 1.102 Αἰοληΐδι μολπᾷ, Pyth.
2.69), but references to dance are rare compared to other genres of choral lyric, and
non-specific. The proem of Pythian 1 once more is a case in point. The dancing step
(βάσις) ‘listens to’ (ἀκούει) the lyre, just as the singers ‘obey’ (πείθονται) the ‘signals’
(σάμασιν) of its ‘chorus-leading preludes’ (ἁγησιχόρων … προοιμίων). This applies
to all choral performance and tells us nothing about how the premiere of Pythian 1
might have differed from that of another epinician.103

98 Morrison 2007: 68, 99–100.

99 Loscalzo 2003: 101–2, Currie 2004: 58. Currie (2004: 56–62, 2017: 188–201) advanced the same
interpretation for Nem. 4.13–16, but Carey (2007: 209 n. 38) rightly observes that nothing in these
lines points to ‘plural voices’.
100 See Spelman 2018: 83 n. 7 and 97–8n. (κοινανίαν / μαλθακὰν παίδων ὀάροισι). Different possi-
ble reperformance contexts are further discussed below, 33–4.
101 Carey 2007: 205–8.
102 Cf. Carey 2007: 199, 208.
103 The passage has even been quoted in an argument for the absence of any formal dancing in epi-
nician (Heath 1988: 184–8; cf. Hutchinson 2001: 365, 367 with n. 11). But while such an absence may
be supported by the even more generic Ol. 14.16–17 ἰδοῖσα τόνδε κῶμον … / κοῦφα βιβῶντα, both
Heath and Hutchinson are unsuccessful in explaining away the testimony of Isth. 1.7–10 καὶ τὸν
ἀκερσικόμαν Φοῖβον χορεύων / … / … καὶ τὰν ἁλιερκέα Ἰσθμοῦ / δειράδ᾽, where epinician and paean,
which always came with formal dance, are subsumed under the participle χορεύων. It is also rele-
vant that Heath (though not Hutchinson) believes that epinician premieres were largely monodic.
32 Introduction

One obvious reason for the reticence of epinician poets about such external
matters is that the primary audience could see and hear the chorus.104 ‘Stage-direc-
tions’ embedded in the text, as in drama and perhaps certain types of ritual song,105
were not required and probably not even desired if the odes were intended to be
suitable not only for their first performance, but also for potential reperformances
in different settings, such as a solo rendition at a symposium. The same applies to
overly precise references to the location of the premiere, if a pan-Hellenic appeal
was to be achieved.106
Was Pindar present for the first performance of Pythian 1, training the chorus
and leading it at the great occasion? Prima facie this is likely, since Hieron would
have been keen to display openly his patronage of a poet of Pindar’s stature, and
Pindar would have been equally eager to accept the hospitality of a wealthy and
powerful ruler.107 But our only evidence that Pindar stayed with Hieron is incon-
clusive, at least as far as the date is concerned: Vita Ambrosiana (I 3.2–3 Dr.) ἀλλὰ
καὶ ἀμφότεροι (i.e. Pindar and Simonides) παρὰ Ἱέρωνι τῷ Συρακοσίων τυράννῳ
γεγένηνται. This is usually referred to 476/5, the year of Olympian 1 for Hieron and
Olympians 2 and 3 for Theron of Akragas, but it could as well apply to another time
or indeed repeated visits.108 Likewise, much effort has been expended on analysing
the odes of Pindar and Bacchylides for hints of the poets’ presence or absence at
the premiere. With some exceptions, the texts allow no firm conclusions,109 and

104 Cf. Strauss-Clay 1999: 32.

105 Note the Thesmophoria hymn to various gods in Ar. Thesm. 953–1000 with its strong reflection
of dance movements in the words of the chorus. Part of this may have been for theatrical enter-
tainment, but the song is essentially serious, and we would probably find more such examples, had
Greek ritual lyric been better preserved (cf. the strong link between words and ritual proceedings
in many hymns of the Rigveda). It is likely that reperformance scenarios for religious songs varied
much less than for epinicians (cf. below).
106 Morgan 1993: 12; cf. Carey 2007: 199–200.
107 For Hieron as a patron of poets, notably Simonides, Pindar, Bacchylides and Aeschylus, see
chs. II.1 and II.4.
108 For 476/5 see e.g. DNP/BNP s.v. Pindaros/Pindarus D.3 (Robbins), Bell 1995: 28, 29, Antonaccio
2007: 267, Gentili et al. 2013: XVI. The ‘nihilist’ view that the statement in the Vita is but an inference
from Pindar’s Sicilian odes seems less plausible, given that it also mentions Simonides, for whose
Sicilian travels there are independent witnesses (II.4, 24 n. 73).
109 Ol. 6.87–92 strongly indicates that the chorēgos of the ode was Aineias (cf. scholl. Ol. 6.148a,
149a (I 186.20–187.2, 188.6–9 Dr.)), and the same is probably true of Nikasippos at Isth. 2.47–8
(Hutchinson 2001: 414). Passages that generally speak of the poet ‘bringing’ or ‘sending’ the poem
(e.g. Pyth. 2.3–4, 67–8, Nem. 3.76–80, Bacch. 5.9–12, 197, frr. 20B.3–5, 20C.2–7) can be interpreted
either way. For the view that they imply the poet’s presence (πέμπω = ‘escort’) see especially Mullen
1982: 29–30 (endorsed by Hubbard 2004: 89 with n. 53), for the opposite Prauscello 2006: 41–5 (in
particular 41 n. 123), Hadjimichael 2019: 194, 196.
 Performance Contexts 33

Pythian 1 does not even contain a relevant passage. Unsatisfactory as it may be, it is
best not to press the question.
We are both better and less well equipped to discuss reperformance con-
texts. Many epinicians contain sympotic overtones, which suggests that they were
intended to be reperformed at such events. Thus at the end of Pythian 1 Pindar
evokes a symposium scene and implicitly predicts that Hieron will continue to
be the subject of song (97–8; cf. 81–100, 94b–100, 95–8, 97–8nn.). That epinicians
were learnt and revived at private drinking parties in Athens is above all proved
by Ar. Nub. 1354–8, where Strepsiades recounts how his son Pheidippides refused
to perform Simonides’ ‘Krios’ (cf. Sim. fr. 16 Poltera) to the lyre on the ground that
this was an antiquated practice.110 This does not mean that any Pindaric epinician
received the same honour, but a strong case for Pythian 1 can be made by looking at
the fifth- and fourth-century reception of this and related odes.
Pythian 1 itself is well represented. Its initial invocation to the ‘golden lyre’,
naturally the most memorable part of the poem, was adapted by Aristophanes in
Thesm. 327–9 χρυσέα δὲ φόρμιγξ / ἰαχήσειεν ἐπ᾽ εὐχαῖς / ἡμετέραις (1–2a n.). The
Typhos-episode (13–28), which impressed authors and literary critics throughout
antiquity, almost certainly was a source of [A.] PV 351–72, while individual echoes
of it may be found in E. Her. 637–40, Hel. 1323–4, Phoen. 802 and [E.] Rh. 72–3
(see 13–28, 19b–20, 27–8 (στρωμνὰ … χαράσσοισ’) nn.). The gnomē κρέσσον γὰρ
οἰκτιρμοῦ φθόνος (85) boasts a similarly long afterlife, beginning with Hdt. 3.52.5,
unless the phrase was proverbial before Pindar (85–6a n.). Finally, there is verbal
overlap between Pyth. 1.40 εὔανδρόν τε χώραν and E. Tro. 229 εὔανδρόν τ᾽ … γᾶν
(of Bruttium). The adjective εὔανδρος is not unusual in archaic and classical Greek
poetry, but it seems noteworthy that both passages are preceded by a praise of Sicily
(39–40n. (εὔανδρόν τε χώραν)).
This picture is supported by the reception history of Pindar’s hyporchēma for
Hieron (frr. 105a, b), which is roughly contemporary with Pythian 1 and may even
have been composed for the same occasion (ch. II.4). Aristophanes took the song as
the basis for his extensive parody of wandering poets praising new city foundations
(Av. 915–48), and it remained familiar enough in the fourth century for its opening
line σύνες ὅ τοι λέγω (fr. 105a.1) to be casually quoted by Plato twice (Men. 76d3,
Phdr. 236d2).

110 Cf. e.g. Currie 2004: 52, 2017: 192–4, Hadjimichael 2019: 65–70, 91. Pheidippides’ opinion is
paralled in Eup. frr. 148.1–2 PCG τὰ Στησιχόρου τε καὶ Ἀλκμᾶνος Σιμωνίδου τε / ἀρχαῖον ἀείδειν, ὁ
δὲ Γνήσιππος ἔστ᾽ ἀκούειν and 398 PCG (= Ath. 1.3a) ὡς τὰ Πινδάρου <ὁ> (add. cod. B) κωμῳδιοποιὸς
Εὔπολίς φησιν, ἤδη κατασεσιγασμένα ὑπὸ τῆς τῶν πολλῶν ἀφιλοκαλίας.
34 Introduction

In view of the well-documented change in poetic and musical taste towards

the end of the fifth century, there will have been some truth in the comic passages
stating that ‘old’ poets increasingly went out of fashion for sympotic (re)perfor-
mance, at least in Athens. But they were not ‘passed over in silence’, as Eupolis
apparently said of Pindar (n. 110), and it is worth remembering that Athenian con-
ditions need not have obtained in other cultural centres of the Greek world.111
In addition to symposia, epinicians may have been revived on formal or
semi-formal occasions, such as religious festivals and other publicly-funded events
in the victor’s hometown, or private festivities arranged by the athlete and/or his
family, for example on the anniversary of the victory or the premiere of the ode.112
Since in the case of a tyrant like Hieron the victor and his dynasty represented the
state, public and private effectively become one for Pythian 1. If the ode had its pre-
miere at the Aitnaia of 470 (cf. II.2, 13–14), one may imagine that Hieron arranged
for it to be reperformed there annually, by a chorus rather than a soloist,113 and
perhaps together with (some of) the other poetry celebrating the foundation of
Aitna (e.g. the hyporchēma frr. 105a, b). There is no direct evidence to support this
hypothesis, but a partial analogy is offered by the maiden choruses which Hieron
is said to have received in Western Lokroi after he prevented Anaxilas of Rhegion
from attacking the city (Pyth. 2.18–20, with scholl. 36c, 38 (II 37.22–38.5, 38.6–10
Dr.)). While we do not know how long this practice lasted, it is likely that any poten-
tial reperformance of Pythian 1 or other Deinomenid odes, in Syracuse or Aitna,
ended with the fall of the dynasty.114 But Pindar’s strategy for spreading Hieron’s
fame clearly paid off in other parts of Greece.

111 Hornblower 2004: 56–7. For the circulation of Pindar’s poetry in Athens see Irigoin 1952: 11–20
and Hubbard 2004: 71–2. His Sicilian victory odes seem to have been particularly popular there (cf.
Meister 2019: 367 with n. 10).
112 Formal occasions: Loscalzo 2003: 103–6, Currie 2004: 63–9; semi-formal occasions: Loscalzo
2003: 116–18, Currie 2004: 55–63, Hubbard 2004: 75–80. Carey (2007: 209) notes that Nemean 3 was
composed for an anniversary of the victory (2 ἐν ἱερομηνίᾳ Νεμεάδι; cf. 76–80, where Pindar admits
that the ode is late) and that Isthmian 2 was for a posthumous celebration of Xenokrates of Akragas
(44–5). Hornblower (2012) investigates the families of victors that remain attested after the fifth
century and may have kept the memory of their illustrious ancestors alive.
113 As in the case of first performances, the mode of such revivals probably varied with the finan-
cial power or liberality of the sponsors and the availability of singers (cf. above, 31). There is no
need to insist that they were either mainly choral (Morrison 2012: 112) or mainly monodic or by
small groups (Carey 2007: 209, Budelmann 2017: 44 n. 5).
114 It is unclear what happened to the Aitnaia after Hieron’s death. Perhaps the inhabitants of
Aitna, on their expulsion to Inessa in 461, not only transferred the name of their old city and the
veneration of Hieron as oikist (cf. II.1, 10), but also the festival of Zeus Aitnaios (Cook 1914–40: II.2
908, Vonderstein 2006: 160–1). The god certainly continued to be honoured in Sicily after the fall of
the Deinomenids (cf. Ol. 4.6–7) and into Roman times (D. S. 34.10.1).
 Performance Contexts 35

2 Text and Reperformance

If epinician poets intended their works to be disseminated and revived, they needed
to consider, at the point of composition, the possibility of other than the original
mode of performance and the requirements of audiences who were not necessarily
aware of the primary occasion and who often, presumably, would get to hear a
memorable excerpt, such as a mythical or gnomic section, rather than a complete
ode.115 Being aristocrats themselves, Simonides, Pindar and Bacchylides will have
been familiar with the sympotic practice of reworking (parts of) well-known lyric
poems as skolia, which we see in Alc. fr. 249.6–9 Voigt as against Carm. conv. 891
PMG.116 At the same time the praise poets are conscious that the survival of their
odes depended as much, if not more, on their own fame as on that of their honor­
ands (Ibyc. fr. S151.46–8 PMGF, Ol. 9.21–7, Pyth. 3.110–15, Bacch. 3.96–8).117 Later
evidence bears out this picture. It is likely that memory of Simonides’ ‘Krios’ (above,
33) was preserved mainly because of the status of its author and his clever pun on
the name of the defeated contestant. And the opening sequence of Pindar’s νόμος
ὁ πάντων βασιλεύς (fr. 169a), which is widely attested from Herodotus (3.38.4) on,
offers a good example of a passage that probably circulated separately and thus out
of context from an early stage.118
One issue the poets could not have anticipated is that epinician grew increas-
ingly out of fashion in the second half of the fifth century.119 Later audiences there-
fore would have had little experience of genuine epinician performance, which
must have affected their understanding of conventions and in turn increased the
popularity of passages not related to the victor or occasion.
What signs then are there in Pythian 1 that Pindar had subsequent reception
in mind? We have already seen that nothing ties the ode to a particular perfor-

115 Morrison 2007: 22: ‘The interest of tertiary audiences was probably directed more at the mythic
section of the odes, their gnomic content, and other passages likely to have been of wide appeal.’ Cf.
Currie 2004: 53–4, Carey 2007: 210, Rutherford 2012: 95, Hadjimichael 2019: 175.
116 Currie 2004: 53. In this context note also Ar. fr. 235 PCG (Daitalēs) ᾆσον δή μοι σκόλιόν τι λαβὼν
Αλκαίου κἀνακρέοντος.
117 Currie 2004: 53, Hubbard 2004: 82. Cf. above, 30 with n. 95.
118 See Hadjimichael 2019: 120–4, 128, 199. She also points out that when Plato cites passages from
Pindar’s epinicians ‘the occasion for which the ode was composed … is not revealed in the Platonic
context’ (175 with n. 13).
119 Only three epinicians are attested after Pindar: Euripides’ ode to celebrate Alcibiades’ triple
Olympic chariot-victory in 416 (fr. 755 PMG), Diagoras of Melos in honour of the boxer Nikodoros of
Mantineia (fr. 738 (2) PMG; cf. Ael. VH 2.23) and Callimachus’ elegiac poem for Berenike, who won
an Olympic chariot-victory, probably in 284 (frr. 254–69 SH). See Hornblower 2004: 28.
36 Introduction

mance context; the musical references in the proem (1–12) and the last epode (97–8)
would not be out of place in either choral or monodic presentation (above, 31). This
merging of the specific with the generic can be observed in other parts of the poem
too. While the Typhos-episode is built on traditional epic motifs, Pindar adapted
the narrative to the original Sicilian setting of Pythian 1 by having the monster
imprisoned under Mt. Etna and recalling the eruption of the volcano in 479/8 or
475/4 (cf. 13–28n.). This would not, however, have made the story any less intelligi-
ble or impressive for non-Sicilians. On the contrary, ‘Pindar’s poetry has the power
to evoke for distant secondary audiences even the magnificence of the flaming lava
Typhos sends upwards from his prison.’120 And given the wide and early reception
history of this episode (above, 33), it is conceivable that it was known independently
from its poem soon after the first performance.
Other sections of Pythian 1 that would have lent themselves to separate per-
formance, with or without modification, are the ‘Hymn to Music’ (1–12) and the
reflections on good government and lasting fame through poetry in the fifth triad
(81–100). Peace and festivity as well as politics and survival in song are traditional
topics of sympotic lyric, and it is easy to imagine a scene in which, analogous to
Strepsiades and Pheidippides in Ar. Nub. 1354–6, one symposiast asked another for
a rendition of Pindar’s Χρυσέα φόρμιγξ, accompanied by the lyre.121
The fact that Pythian 1 is richer in historical allusions than any other Pindaric
ode might have impaired its appeal to future audiences. But Pindar again took care
to diffuse their epichoric bias. Ever since antiquity scholars have debated which
battle Pindar alludes to when he compares the martial achievements of the ageing
and sick Hieron to those of Philoctetes who captured Troy despite his wounded
foot (46–57). However, although strong arguments can be made in favour of Kyme
(50b–7, 51b–2a nn.), in some ways the answer does not matter. The point is Hier-
on’s heroic defiance of his illness, and Pindar’s vagueness, together with the epic
illustration, ensures that this is understood regardless of the actual historical cir-
cumstances.122
The same applies to other contemporary references in the ode. When Pindar
describes the foundation of Aitna in terms of the Dorian migration (61–6), this serves
the immediate encomiastic purpose of providing the new city with an illustrious

120 Morrison 2007: 101.

121 An intriguing parallel to both the proem and the sympotic end of Pythian 1 exists in Carm. conv.
900 PMG εἴθε λύρα καλὴ γενοίμην ἐλεφαντίνη / καί με καλοὶ παῖδες φέροιεν Διονύσιον ἐς χορόν.
122 Morrison 2007: 101. One may compare Pindar’s technique in Ol. 9.61–79, where he increases
the pan-Hellenic appeal of an obscure local myth by connecting it with Homeric epic. The epony-
mous king of Lokrian Opous opens his city to foreigners, including Menoitios, the father of Patro-
clus (Hubbard 2004: 73).
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sempre stesi sulla capote di cuoio dell'automobile.
Ah!... Se avessero potuto raggiungere il carrozzone-salon, se ne
sarebbero infischiati di quel blocco. Avrebbero accesa la loro stufa, si
sarebbero preparati un buon pranzetto, avrebbero fatte delle buone
pipate e quindi una buona dormita sui loro comodi lettucci con delle
pesanti coperte indosso.
Disgraziatamente avevano indugiato troppo, credendo di poter
respingere facilmente le fameliche bestie con un fuoco d'inferno, ed
ora era troppo tardi per tentare la ritirata. Se l'avessero tentata, in
un baleno tutti quei lupi, un centinaio per lo meno, si sarebbero
scagliati loro addosso ed indubbiamente li avrebbero addentati prima
che aprissero la porta del carrozzone.
— Ebbene, signor Gastone, — disse ad un certo momento il giovane
studente, scuotendosi di dosso, per la ventesima volta, la neve che
lo copriva e gettando via, col calcio del fucile, quella che lo
circondava. — Sapreste dirmi come finirà questa avventura?
— Mah!... — si era limitato a rispondere il canadese, il quale,
abituato ai freddi intensissimi ed alle copiose nevicate del Canadà,
non sembrava preoccuparsi gran che del freddo.
— Noi corriamo il pericolo di gelare vivi, signore. Se questo assedio
dovesse durare tutta la notte, noi domani saremo più stecchiti dei
merluzzi di Terranuova.
— Guardate che cosa fa Dik.
— Sì, fuma placidamente la sua pipa monumentale e si lascia coprire
dalla neve come se fosse un esquimese.
— Si prepara la sua tana da orso bianco, — rispose il canadese.
— Ma quello è un baleniere, signor Gastone.
— Forse che la sua carne è diversa della mia e della vostra?
Imitatelo, mio caro Walter, e quando anche voi sarete ben coperto,
non vi lamenterete troppo del freddo.
Accendete la vostra pipa e lasciate che nevichi.
— Preferirei trovarmi nel carrozzone dinanzi ad una zuppa fumante
di fagiuoli.
— Veramente ci starei anch'io, mio bravo amico, ma i lupi non ci
vogliono permettere questo lusso.
— Un'idea, signor Gastone!... — esclamò improvvisamente lo
studente, picchiandosi la fronte.
— Dite pure.
— Voi avete portato con voi delle cartuccie di dinamite per far
saltare, se fosse necessario, i blocchi di ghiaccio che ci impedissero
di avanzare.
— Certo: ne ho un bel numero.
— Se le provassimo contro i lupi?
— Farebbero indubbiamente delle vere stragi.
— E perchè non le proviamo?
— Perchè si trovano nel carrozzone. —
Walter si era bruscamente alzato, levandosi dalla cintura un solido
bowie-knife, e collo sguardo aveva misurata la distanza che separava
la macchina dal carrozzone.
— Un paio di metri!... — esclamò. — Che miseria pel campione di
Cambridge. Anche un novellino dell'Università d'Oxford non si
guarderebbe indietro.
È vero che c'è il pericolo di scivolare e di cadere fra le bocche di quei
cento affamati.
— Che cosa vorreste tentare, Walter? — chiese il canadese.
— Credete che con questa buona lama si possa forzare il tetto della
nostra casa ambulante? Non sono troppo grasso, e levando qualche
tavola potrei passare.
— Una riparazione facile a farsi, è vero Dik?
— Sì, padrone, — rispose il meccanico, che era ormai quasi
interamente sepolto sotto la neve.
— Allora salto, — disse lo studente.
— Badate alle cadute.
— A me, Cambridge!... — gridò l'allegro giovanotto. — Proteggi il tuo
campione!... —
Le sue lunghissime gambe si tesero ed il corpo intero si sollevò,
attraversando facilmente la distanza che separava l'automobile dal
carrozzone.
— Ecco un vero saltatore!... — esclamò il canadese. — È vero,
Dik? —
L'ex-baleniere rispose con una specie di grugnito e non voltò
nemmeno la testa. Abituato agli intensi freddi dei mari polari, si
trovava benissimo sotto il lenzuolo nevoso, specialmente colla pipa
fra le labbra.
Oh, ne aveva passate ben altre delle nottate terribili al nord dello
stretto di Behring e sulle coste dell'Alaska!...
Lo studente era caduto quasi nel mezzo del tetto del carrozzone,
tenendosi ancora in piedi per un prodigio di equilibrio e provocando,
da parte dei lupi sempre vigilanti, degli ululati spaventevoli che non
lo avevano però affatto commosso.
Essendo quel tetto ben più alto della capote di cuoio della macchina,
poteva ridersi delle minaccie dei cervieri ed anche dei neri, buoni
corridori ma pessimi saltatori di fronte ad un campione di
Cambridge.
— Dik, — disse il canadese, volgendosi verso il meccanico. — Vi
sentireste in caso di tentare anche voi il salto?
— Preferisco starmene qui sotto la neve, signore. Non sono mai
stato un saltatore io.
— Ed io preferirei trovarmi al coperto. Dopo tutto non mi sembra un
gran che fare quella volata, ora che Walter si troverà pronto a
sorreggerci.
Là, proviamo.
— Venite anche voi, signore? — chiese lo studente che stava
sbarazzando il tetto del carrozzone.
— Vengo ad aiutarvi. Tenetevi pronto ad afferrarmi. —
Misurò collo sguardo per bene la distanza, si raccolse su sè stesso,
poi si slanciò cadendo fra le braccia aperte dello studente.
— Signor di Montcalm, — disse l'allegro giovanotto, — voi
meritereste di prendere parte alle gare del Queen's Club.
Io stesso avrei in voi un serio rivale nel salto.
— Io non appartengo nè all'Università di Cambridge, nè a quella di
Oxford, — rispose il canadese. — E poi senza il vostro pronto aiuto
sarei andato certamente colle gambe in aria ed avrei finito il mio
salto fra le mascelle dei lupi.
Orsù, amico, cerchiamo di aprirci una via attraverso al tetto. In due
lavoreremo più rapidamente. —
Sbarazzarono il coperto dalla neve, tagliarono coi loro robustissimi
coltelli lo strato di zinco, poi quello di feltro, e misero allo scoperto le
tavole.
Seguendo colle punte delle armi le connessure, dopo un quarto d'ora
di lavoro accanito riuscivano finalmente a levare due tavoloni,
ottenendo uno spazio sufficiente per far passare i loro corpi.
— Finalmente!... — esclamò lo studente che pel primo si era calato
nel carrozzone, andando a cadere su una cassa. — Ora i signori lupi
avranno da fare con noi.
— Accendete una lampada, — disse il canadese, il quale lo aveva
subito seguito.
— E poi la stufa, signore. Io non posseggo la pelle di quell'orso di
Dik. È vero che lui è stato baleniere. —
Come al solito, chiacchierava assai ma agiva anche molto. Il lume fu
acceso, poi subito dopo la stufa, operazione facilissima che non
richiedeva nemmeno mezzo minuto, non trattandosi che di dar fuoco
all'essenza minerale, quindi fu sturata una bottiglia di vecchio wisky
che in quel momento era più necessaria della stufa, poichè i due
viaggiatori erano intirizziti dal freddo.
Riscaldatisi con un paio di bicchierini e rimesse a posto le due tavole
del tetto per impedire l'ingresso alla neve, che cadeva sempre
abbondante, si misero a cercare la cassetta contenente le cartuccie
di dinamite, impresa facile poichè tutte le casse erano state prima
diligentemente numerate.
— Ecco qui tanta materia esplosiva da far saltare tutti i lupi della
terra, — disse il canadese prendendone, con precauzione, cinque o
sei. — Walter, aprite una finestra mentre io accendo una miccia.
— Non salteremo anche noi per caso? — chiese lo studente. — Io ho
sempre avuto un gran terrore per questi terribili esplosivi.
— La cartuccia è pesante e andrà ben lontana.
— E la neve non spengerà la miccia?
— Non vi è pericolo. —
Il canadese si affacciò alla finestra, tenendo in mano una delle sei
cartuccie il cui cordoncino già fumava.
Trenta o quaranta lupi si erano radunati ad una cinquantina di passi
dall'automobile, come se si preparassero a tentare un nuovo assalto.
Era il buon momento per somministrare a quegli affamati una
tremenda lezione.
— Walter, — disse il canadese. — Gettatevi a terra. —
Poi lanciò a tutta forza la cartuccia attraverso la finestra, facendola
cadere in mezzo alla banda urlante.
Un momento dopo una detonazione formidabile si propagava sotto la
foresta e così forte che il treno intero fu scosso e spostato.
Walter ed il canadese si erano precipitati verso la finestra, mentre si
udiva Dik che imprecava.
Del gruppo dei lupi raccoltisi per ritentare l'attacco non ne esisteva
più uno.
Il potente esplosivo li aveva, per modo di dire, polverizzati. Gli altri
invece scappavano a tutte gambe, colle code basse, ululando
spaventosamente.
— Credo che sia bastato, — disse il canadese.
— Che strage, signor Gastone! — esclamò lo studente.
Poi udendo ancora il meccanico brontolare, gridò:
— Ohè, mastro Dik, vi è caduto addosso qualche lupo?
— Ho perduto la mia coperta di neve che mi teneva così caldo, —
rispose l'ex-baleniere. — Mi è stata portata via di colpo.
— Posso offrirvene una di buona lana accanto alla stufa, insieme a
una mezza bottiglia di wisky vecchio quanto Noè.
Lasciate il vostro covo di orsi bianchi, ora che i lupi si sono
congedati. —
Se non vi fosse stata la promessa di un paio di bicchieri di quella
fortissima bevanda della quale tutti gli americani fanno un uso
smodato, probabilmente l'ex-baleniere, che se ne rideva delle nevi,
non si sarebbe mosso, ed avrebbe attesa un'altra coperta candida.
Bevitore emerito, come lo sono quasi tutti gli uomini di mare, non
seppe resistere alla tentazione e saltò a terra sprofondando nella
neve fino alle anche, e raggiunse la porta del carrozzone già aperta.
— Volevate proprio dormire lassù al fresco? — gli chiese Walter,
chiudendo subito, affinchè il dolcissimo calore della stufa non
sfuggisse. — Io mi trovo meglio qui, non essendo nato
esquimese. —
Dik alzò le spalle e si attaccò alla bottiglia.
Il canadese rinchiuse accuratamente la cassetta delle pericolose
cartuccie e si mise a preparare la cena, aiutato dallo studente.
Intanto fuori continuava a nevicare ed il vento sibilava o ruggiva
attraverso la foresta, torcendo perfino i grossi rami dei pini bianchi e
rossi.
I lupi in lontananza ululavano sempre, senza però osare accostarsi al
treno.
Ne avevano avuto abbastanza di quella cartuccia, dopo le gravi
perdite subìte prima.
— Aspettiamo domani, — disse il canadese, quando ebbero
terminato di cenare. — Intanto il freddo rassoderà la neve.
— Purchè i lupi non attacchino le pneumatiche, — disse Walter.
— Sono così robuste da sfidare i loro denti. Orsù, cacciamoci sotto le
coperte. —
Tutta la notte il vento soffiò con estrema violenza, facendo tremare
perfino le grosse vetrate delle piccole finestre, e la neve non cessò
dal turbinare.
All'indomani, quando Dik aprì la porta per recarsi all'automobile,
trovò uno strato nevoso alto quanto i predellini delle due vetture, ma
così solido da reggere benissimo anche una piccola nave.
Un freddo intensissimo ed improvviso, aveva gelato tutto.
— Si può andare? — chiese il canadese, affacciandosi alla porta.
— Rompiamo lo strato che rinserra le ruote e poi vedrete che bella
corsa faremo. Io conto di farvi pranzare sulle rive della baia di
Hudson.
— Allora non perdiamo tempo. —
Mandarono giù in fretta un paio di tazze di thè ben bollente, si
armarono di vanghe e di picconi ed attaccarono poderosamente lo
strato gelato, per fare alla macchina un po' di largo e prendere lo
slancio.
 .... quelli del Canadà superano per statura e peso tutti gli altri, —
disse il canadese. (Cap. IX).

Un'ora dopo il treno già filava magnificamente attraverso la foresta

gelata, con una velocità di quaranta chilometri all'ora.
Walter ed il canadese, ben avvolti in pesanti pelliccie, avevano
ripreso il loro posto dietro il meccanico, tenendo i fucili fra le gambe,
sempre in attesa di fare qualche buon colpo onde variare, con
qualche buon pezzo di selvaggina, la minuta del pranzo.
L'automobile si comportava magnificamente anche perchè il terreno
su cui s'alzava l'immensa foresta, si manteneva costantemente
piano.
La neve, tramutata ormai quasi in un banco di ghiaccio, non cedeva
sotto il peso del treno. Era bensì vero che qualche volta succedevano
degli slittamenti, ma poi la macchina riprendeva il suo slancio con un
teuff-teuff sonoro.
Di quando in quando della piccola selvaggina s'alzava fra i cespugli di
rose canine e di bacche, semi-sepolte nella neve, e scappava via con
velocità fulminea.
Erano per lo più lupatti, volpi e martore. Di tratto in tratto però
qualche schiera di grossi cigni, emigranti verso il sud, passavano
fischiando, producendo un rumore strano colle loro ali piuttosto
deboli per sorreggere dei corpacci pesanti una trentina ed anche più
di libbre.
Verso il mezzodì il treno lasciava finalmente la grande foresta e si
slanciava attraverso ad una sconfinata pianura tutta bianca e gelata
la quale proiettava, verso le nubi gravide di neve, una luce
intensissima, acciecante: era l'ice-blink.
Il canadese stava per dar ordine a Dik di arrestare l'automobile per
preparare il pranzo, quando degli ululati si fecero udire verso il
margine della foresta che avevano appena lasciata.
— Toh!... — esclamò lo studente. — Ancora i lupi!...
— In caccia, — rispose il canadese, il quale tendeva gli orecchi.
— Di chi?
— Ma!... Forse di qualche caribou o di qualche altro grosso animale.
Se si trattasse d'un piccolo capo di selvaggina non urlerebbero tanto.
Dik, fermate!... —
L'automobile slittò per una ventina di metri, poi si arrestò.
Gli ululati dei lupi continuavano verso la foresta. A giudicarlo dalle
urla non doveva trattarsi d'un grosso branco.
Il signor di Montcalm, ritto sul sedile, col mauser in mano, osservava
attentamente, pronto a far fuoco.
Ad un tratto un grosso animale che rassomigliava ad un grande
cervo, assai più alto di quelli comuni, fornito di lunghe corna ramose
e colla pelliccia bruno-rossastra, si slanciò fuori dalla foresta, filando
velocemente verso la vasta pianura.
Sette od otto grossi lupi grigi gli stavano alle calcagna, stringendolo
da presso.
Un colpo di fuoco risuonò.
L'animale fece un gran salto, rizzandosi poscia sulle zampe deretane
e scuotendo disperatamente la testa, poi si abbattè.
I lupi, sorpresi da quella detonazione e da quella inaspettata caduta,
si erano fermati bruscamente, non osando scagliarsi su quel corpo
che si dibatteva ancora fra le ultime convulsioni dell'agonia.
D'altronde il treno aveva ripresa la corsa e si dirigeva verso il
margine della foresta.
— A voi ora, Walter, — aveva detto il canadese, la cui arma fumava
ancora. — Sbarazzatemi da quei pochi predoni. —
Sei colpi rimbombarono uno dietro l'altro e cinque lupi caddero in
mezzo alla neve per non più rialzarsi. Solamente l'ultimo, sfuggito
miracolosamente alla sesta fucilata, potè rifugiarsi nella vicina
foresta.
— Diavolo d'uomo!... — esclamò il canadese, guardando con
ammirazione lo studente. — La Compagnia delle pelliccie della baia
d'Hudson avrebbe fatto con voi un buon acquisto.
Voi sparate meglio dei più vecchi trappeurs dell'alto Canadà, mio
caro.
— Lo credete? — chiese Walter, ridendo.
— Rimpiango fin d'ora gli orsi bianchi che incontreremo sul nostro
cammino.
— Mi pare però, signor di Montcalm, che anche voi non scherziate
quando vi appoggiate il fucile alla spalla.
Avete fulminata quella povera bestia con una precisione matematica,
come avrebbe detto il mio vecchio maestro di tiro a segno,
quell'ottimo John Cardik.
— Ah!... Perchè s'insegna anche a sparare all'Università di
Cambridge? Poveri studi!...
— Ma si diventa uomini.
— Eh, lo vedo, — disse il canadese. — Poco pane della scienza ed
invece molto sport. —
L'automobile era giunto presso il wapiti. La povera bestia era stata
colpita presso l'occhio sinistro e la palla umanitaria — come viene
chiamata la pallottola del mauser — gli aveva attraversato il cervello.
— Che cosa ne faremo di tanta carne? — chiese lo studente. — È un
cervo splendido. Mai ne ho veduto uno di così grosso.
— Quelli del Canadà superano per statura e peso tutti gli altri, —
disse il canadese. — Carichiamolo sulla vettura di rimorchio e poi
penseremo a farlo a pezzi e gelarlo. I viveri non sono mai troppi per
la gente che va al Polo.
— Infatti mi hanno detto che la maggior parte degli esploratori polari
sono morti di fame.
— Purtroppo, — rispose il canadese.
Issarono, non senza grandi sforzi, il wapiti sul carrozzone, poi
l'automobile riprese la corsa attraverso la sconfinata pianura bianca.
Il freddo era sempre intensissimo, malgrado che il sole, molto pallido
a dire il vero, si fosse aperto un varco fra le nuvole sempre gravide
di neve.
Sopra l'automobile sfilavano, di quando in quando, lunghissime file di
volatili diretti verso il sud, in cerca d'un clima più mite.
Erano corvi di mare, oche selvatiche, anitre e stormi immensi di gru.
Doveva fare un bel freddo sulla baia di Hudson.
— Essi scappano e noi invece saliamo verso il nord, — disse lo
studente, il quale si era provato a sparare qualche colpo senza buon
successo però, data la grande altezza. — Se incontrate quel caro
yankee ditegli che siamo già vicini al Polo.
A proposito, che sia già partito o che stia ancora sospirando sotto le
finestre di miss Ellen?
— Suppongo che sia già in viaggio, — rispose il canadese.
— Che lo incontriamo in qualche luogo?
— Forse nelle vicinanze del Polo, se entrambi riusciremo a giungervi.
Come vi ho detto mi si disse che invece di seguire le coste
occidentali della grande baia si sarebbe tenuto verso quelle orientali
per raggiungere al più presto la Groenlandia, terra che io invece non
conto affatto di toccare.
Noi saliremo direttamente fino alla terra di Grant, passando sempre
attraverso le isole.
— Vi spiacerebbe incontrarlo al Polo?
— Preferirei non vederlo, mio caro Walter. Già io non gli presterei
nessuna assistenza e lui farebbe certamente altrettanto, anche se ci
trovasse morenti di fame.
— Eh, da quei yankee tutto si può attendere.
— Signore, — disse in quel momento lo chaffeur. — Siamo già in
vista della baia.
— Così presto!... Sento come il freddo aumenta rapidamente.
Gli ice-bergs fanno sentire la loro influenza. —
Si era alzato e proteggendosi gli occhi con ambe le mani, per vincere
i bagliori acciecanti del sole riflettentisi sulla bianca pianura, aveva
spinti gli sguardi verso il settentrione.
Una linea azzurro-cupa spiccava vivamente sul luminoso orizzonte,
cosparso di grossi punti bianchi.

È
— È la baia coi suoi quasi eterni ghiacci galleggianti, — disse. — Se
qualche accidente non interrompe la nostra corsa, faremo presto a
raggiungere il Polo.
Speriamo che i canali delle terre boreali siano tutti gelati e tutto
andrà allora bene.
— Una grande bella baia, è vero signor di Montcalm? — chiese
Walter.
— Sarebbe anzi stato meglio chiamarla mare di Hudson, poichè è un
vero mare.
È vero che il suo scopritore non aveva avuto il tempo di constatarne
la vastità.
— Perchè naufragò forse?
— Peggio che peggio, amico. La sua fine fu tragica e forse
terribilmente tragica.
Era un gran bravo navigatore quel vostro compatriotta che si era già
distinto in altre navigazioni polari nei pressi dello Spitzberg e che era
salito in grande fama per le sue osservazioni idrografiche e
magnetiche, fra le altre quella sull'inclinazione dell'ago magnetico.
Nel 1610, aiutato da negozianti, armata una nave, salpava per
queste regioni, animato dalla speranza di poter trovare il famoso
passaggio del nord-ovest, scoperto invece più di due secoli e mezzo
dopo da Mac-Clure.
— Che navi avevano allora quegli audaci naviganti?
— Dei miserabili navigli di cento o centocinquanta tonnellate e niente
di più.
— Continuate, signor Gastone. Le scoperte polari mi hanno sempre
interessato.
— Più fortunato di tanti altri, Hudson raggiunge felicemente
l'America, tocca l'estremità nord-ovest del Labrador, scopre il gran
fiume che oggidì porta il suo nome, ed avanzando nel canale
intravvisto cento dieci anni prima da Corte-real, scopre la grande
baia che ci sta dinnanzi.
Ma lì, su quelle acque, sventure inaudite piombano sulla spedizione.
I ghiacci imprigionano la sua nave nella baia di S. Michele,
impedendo il ritorno.
La fame non tarda a farsi sentire tremenda, poichè le provviste
portate erano state tutt'altro che abbondanti.
Per qualche mese si nutrono di pernici bianche, di oche, di anitre e
di cigni, poi, emigrati quei volatili, si vedono costretti a nutrirsi di
licheni.
Sul principio del Giugno dell'anno seguente lo sgelo permette
finalmente ai naviganti di rimettersi alla vela.
Avevano preso molto pesce durante la primavera, ma ben poco ne
era rimasto.
Hudson divide fra l'equipaggio diventatogli ostilissimo mercè le arti
infami del segretario Green, che pure aveva ricevuto tanti benefici
dallo sfortunato esploratore, e tenta di riguadagnare l'Inghilterra.
I suoi sforzi non sono condivisi dai suoi marinai, e la cospirazione, da
lunga mano preparata dal Green, il 21 Giugno scoppia.
Il disgraziato Hudson viene calato in una scialuppa insieme a tutti gli
ammalati che si trovavano a bordo, con viveri per qualche giorno, un
fucile e poche munizioni, ed abbandonato fra i ghiacci galleggianti.
— Ah!... Canaglie!... — esclamò lo studente. — E che cosa accadde
di quei disgraziati?
— Quello che doveva fatalmente accadere: morirono tutti di fame e
di freddo, almeno così si suppone, poichè nè di Hudson nè dei
compagni che aveva nella scialuppa più mai si ebbero notizie.
— E quel furfante di Green?
— Non godette a lungo il frutto della sua vigliacca azione, che
privava la marina inglese d'uno dei suoi più grandi esploratori.
Venuto a questione con una tribù di esquimesi del Labrador, fu
massacrato e probabilmente anche mangiato.
La nave, dopo una infinità di disgrazie ed i suoi ultimi marinai,
costretti a cibarsi di candele, di pezzi di pelle bollita e di ossa
d'animali triturate per formare una specie di pane, giungevano
finalmente alla baia di Galway, nell'Irlanda.
— Avrebbero dovuto appiccarli tutti!...
— Mentre pare che così non sia avvenuto, — rispose il canadese. —
Ecco la baia: vediamo se possiamo fucilare delle foche o qualche
morsa. —
 CAPITOLO X.
Una caccia emozionante.

La baia di Hudson è una delle più vaste che si trovano nell'America

settentrionale e non ha che una sola rivale: la baia di Baffin che le è
però inferiore per vastità.
Sia l'una che l'altra potrebbero chiamarsi mari, poichè prima di
attraversarle occorrono parecchi giorni di navigazione, anche pei
grandi pericoli che presentano, essendo sempre ingombre di grandi
banchi di ghiaccio e di montagne galleggianti che le correnti polari
trascinano verso il sud.
Quella d'Hudson si trova al di qua del circolo polare artico, poichè
comincia all'isola di Southampton e finisce colla baia di James la
quale si caccia, come un gigantesco cuneo, entro l'alto Canadà,
eppure il suo clima è rigidissimo quasi quanto quello della baia di
Baffin che si sviluppa invece al di là del circolo polare e sulle sue
coste non possono sorgere città. Non vi sono che qua e là dei piccoli
forti appartenenti alla Compagnia delle pelliccie e che per sei od
anche otto mesi dell'anno si trovano quasi sepolti fra la neve.
Vi s'incontrano invece numerose tribù di esquimesi, specialmente
lungo le coste del Labrador, tribù che non hanno sedi fisse,
quantunque invece di vivere entro capanne di ghiaccio come i loro
confratelli del settentrione, si fabbrichino delle casupole di pietre
ammonticchiate e rinsaldate con ammassi di torba.
Non sono però nè leali, nè ospitali come i loro compatrioti dei ghiacci
eterni. La vicinanza della civiltà li ha corrotti e sono diventati dei ladri
temibili, ed hanno perduto completamente quel po' di buono che
avevano prima.
Nel punto ove l'automobile era giunto, la costa si profilava
frastagliata capricciosamente ed assolutamente deserta.
Qualche tribù di esquimesi doveva però aver trascorso l'estate in
quei luoghi, poichè esistevano ancora degli avanzi di casupole,
circondati da ammassi di ossami appartenenti a foche ed a morse.
La immensa baia non era ancora interamente gelata, quantunque
lungo le sue coste si fossero ormai fissati i primi banchi di ghiaccio.
Al largo fluttuavano pesantemente, dondolandosi, molti ice-bergs,
alcuni dei quali di proporzioni gigantesche, seguiti da un numero
infinito di palks e di streams, ossia piccoli banchi circolari od
allungati staccatisi certamente dai grandi palks delle baie e dei golfi
situati al di là del circolo artico.
— Si direbbe che siamo già giunti al Polo, — disse Walter, il quale
seguiva cogli sguardi gli immensi stormi di uccelli marini volteggianti
sopra quei ghiacci.
— Mentre non siamo che al principio del viaggio, — rispose il
canadese, il quale invece esaminava la costa occidentale, per
rendersi conto dello stato della via che dovevano percorrere.
— E non si possono vedere quei brutti musi di esquimesi?
— Oh, ne incontreremo certamente. A voi, guardate laggiù: non vi
pare di scorgere delle sottili colonne di fumo?
— Che vi sia qualche accampamento?
— Può darsi.
— Se andassimo a visitare quei bevitori d'olio?
— Si può salire quella costa, Dik? — chiese il signor di Montcalm.
Il meccanico che era già balzato a terra, non aveva risposto. Curvo
innanzi, colle mani tese dinanzi agli occhi, pareva che osservasse
attentamente qualche cosa navigante al largo.
— Mi avete capito, Dik? — chiese il canadese.
Ancora nessuna risposta.
— Fulmini di Giove!... Che sia diventato improvvisamente sordo!... —
esclamò lo studente. — Ohè, chaffeur, si può salire quella costa colla
nostra macchina? —
Questa volta il baleniere si scosse e dalle sue labbra contratte uscì
un grido:
— Scandaglia la boete!... —
Lo studente l'aveva guardato, domandandosi se per caso il
meccanico fosse improvvisamente impazzito.
Il canadese invece aveva fatto un salto innanzi, esclamando:
— Il grido della vedetta dei balenieri!... Dov'è, Dik!...
— Guardatela.... laggiù.... fra quei due ice-bergs!... Ah!... Se avessi
una scialuppa ed il mio rampone!...
— Signor Gastone, — disse lo studente. — Volete dirmi se sta per
sprofondarsi la baia d'Hudson?
— Non sprofonda affatto, anzi spinge a galla uno dei suoi più
giganteschi abitatori.
— Eccola la briccona!... Che colossale balena!... Deve essere una
franca, è vero, Dik?
— Sì, signore, — rispose l'ex-pescatore di cetacei, agitando in alto il
braccio destro e stringendo le dita come se cercasse di afferrare
qualche rampone.
— Fulmini di Giove!... — esclamò lo studente. — Ero dunque io cieco
poco fa per non vedere un simile mostro? —
A soli cinquecento metri dalla riva, fra due gigantesche montagne di
ghiaccio, era bruscamente comparsa a galla una enorme massa nera
che aveva l'aspetto d'un fuso di metallo, poichè percossa dal sole
luccicava come se fosse d'acciaio.
All'estremità d'uno dei due capi, delle nuvole di vapore sfuggivano ad
intervalli, producendo un rumore strano, allargandosi in forma d'un
V.
Era una magnifica balena franca, una delle pochissime sfuggite alla
ferocia dei balenieri americani ed inglesi, i quali ormai le hanno quasi
completamente distrutte.
Quel gigante dei mari, il più grosso della specie, doveva misurare per
lo meno una ventina di metri in lunghezza e pesare intorno alle
settanta tonnellate, il peso di trecento grossi buoi legati insieme.
— Come mai si trova così presso la costa? — chiese il canadese al
marinaio.
— Cercherà forse qualche posto adatto per deporre il balenottero,
poichè quella è una femmina e non un maschio.
— Il suo piccino? — chiese lo studente. — Dico piccino per modo di
dire poichè suppongo che i neonati di questi bestioni debbono
nascere ben grossi.
— Come un vitello, — rispose Dik, — ed ingrossa così rapidamente
che dopo poche settimane misura già, quel piccino, sette ed anche
otto metri di lunghezza.
— Che ottime balie devono essere le balene.
— E che madri affettuose, — aggiunse il canadese. — Per difendere
il loro piccino non esitano a sacrificarsi, è vero, Dik?
— Sì, signore. Difendono la loro prole con un accanimento feroce, e
per salvarlo si espongono ai colpi dei fiocinieri, lasciandovi quasi
sempre la pelle.
— Ma che cosa fa quella bestiona? — chiese Walter. — Si tuffa e
risale subito spalancando le mascelle. Che abbia sete?
— Si guadagna la sua zuppa, — rispose Dik. — Deve aver incontrato
un banco di quei granchiolini minuscoli che noi chiamiamo bolte....
— E gli zoologi: clios borealis, — aggiunse il canadese.
— E sta inghiottendoli in grandi masse, — continuò l'ex-baleniere.
— E come fa?
— Spalanca le mascelle, empisce la bocca enorme d'acqua, serra i
fanoni che funzionano come una rete, si sbarazza del liquido per
mezzo degli sfiatatoi e manda giù il pasto, attraverso una gola non
più larga del mio pugno.
— È allora tutt'altro che una terribile gastronoma come i capidogli e
come i pesci-cani, — disse il canadese.
— Adagio, signore, — rispose il baleniere. — A questi enormi
mammiferi sono necessari, in un solo giorno, non meno di dieci o
dodicimila chilogrammi di piccoli crostacei e d'altre materie quasi
gelatinose chiamate cibo della balena.
— Che zuppa!... — esclamò lo studente.
— Dik, — disse in quel momento il canadese. — Guardate un po'!...
Non vi sembra molto inquieta quella balena?
— Era appunto quello che stavo osservando ora, — rispose lo
chaffeur.
Infatti l'enorme cetaceo, dopo essersi immerso tre o quattro volte, a
non molta profondità di certo, poichè si trovava troppo vicino alla
sponda, si era messa a spiccare dei veri salti, slanciandosi quasi a
metà fuori dall'acqua e mandando nel medesimo tempo delle
formidabili note che avevano qualche cosa di metallico, poichè
pareva che ripercuotessero entro un enorme tubo di bronzo.
La sua possente coda sferzava rabbiosamente l'acqua, sollevando
delle gigantesche ondate le quali si rovesciavano verso la costa con
grande fragore, balzando e rimbalzando.
— Che sia stata ferita da qualche colpo di rampone? — chiese il
canadese.
L'ex-baleniere scosse la testa, poi disse:
— Fra le onde che solleva si vedrebbe qualche grossa macchia di
sangue. Che i delfini gladiatori le abbiano invece divorata la lingua?
Oh!... Ve ne sono molti di quei ferocissimi pesci nei mari artici.
— Come, dei delfini oserebbero assalire un tale colosso!... —
esclamò lo studente, con stupore.
— Sono bestioni lunghi sette ed anche otto metri e con certi denti
che non vorrei provare.
Nutrono un vero odio contro le balene, e quando si trovano in buon
numero non esitano ad assalirle e con una ferocia inaudita.
Aspettano che uno di quei disgraziati cetacei spalanchi l'enorme
bocca e subito vi si precipitano dentro, mentre uno di loro si getta
attraverso i fanoni per impedire che le mascelle si rinchiudano
completamente.
Divorata la lingua, se ne vanno tranquilli e ben pasciuti.
— Ah!... Birbanti!... E la povera mutilata poi muore?
— Si, e fra dolori spaventevoli, — rispose lo chaffeur. — Questo
cetaceo potrebbe invece essere tormentato da qualche cyamo.
— Che cos'è? — domandò il canadese.
— Un crostaceo carnivoro che gli rode la cotenna e gli entra nel
corpo intaccando la carne viva.
Si dice che quel piccolo mostro cagioni a quei disgraziati giganti tali
dolori da farli impazzire.
— Povere balene!... — esclamò lo studente. — E dopo hanno gli
uomini che le perseguitano senza posa, è vero, Dik? —
L'ex-baleniere invece di rispondere tese un braccio verso la costa di
ponente, dicendo:
— Li vedete?
— Chi? — domandarono ad una voce il canadese e lo studente.
— Tutti quei punti neri che si dirigono verso la balena.
— È vero, — disse Gastone. — Che cosa possono essere?
— Potrei ingannarmi, tuttavia scommetterei il mio vecchio rampone
contro una carica di tabacco che quelli sono kayak esquimesi.
Guardate, escono appunto dalla piccola cala dove poco fa voi avete
osservate delle colonne di fumo.
— Che corrano all'attacco del gigante dei mari? — chiese lo
studente.
— Certo, signore. Sono fortune che toccano di rado a quei poveri
diavoli sempre in lotta colla fame.
Che scorpacciate di lardo che faranno se riusciranno a catturarla!... E
che bevute d'olio!...
— Con quei piccoli canotti di pelle di foca o di morsa oserebbero
tanto? — domandò il canadese.
— Vedrete all'opera quegli audacissimi pescatori. Sono in buon
numero: una cinquantina per lo meno.
Ah!... Godiamo una caccia emozionantissima. Che peccato non aver
qui il mio rampone e.... —
Dik si era bruscamente interrotto, mentre un urlo spaventevole
aveva lacerata l'aria: l'urlo della balena.
— Si è arenata!... — esclamò quasi subito lo chaffeur. — Che festa
per gli esquimesi!... —
La sua voce si perdette fra i clamori assordanti che uscivano dalla
gola del gigante dei mari.
— Sì, sì, si è arenata!... — gridarono a loro volta il canadese e lo
studente.
Era vero!... Il colosso, reso certamente pazzo da atroci dolori
causatigli o dalla perdita della lingua o dai morsi del vorace
crostaceo, era andata a cadere, dopo un ultimo e più disperato
slancio, su un banco subacqueo che non aveva potuto scorgere, ed
era rimasta come ancorata, con tre quarti del corpo allo scoperto.
Solamente la possente coda era rimasta immersa, ma non poteva
esserle ormai di nessuna utilità, anzi le era di danno, perchè ad ogni
colpo delle due gigantesche pinne il corpaccio si insabbiava sempre
più.
Quel banco non distava che duecento cinquanta o trecento metri dal
luogo ove si era fermata l'automobile, quindi nulla poteva sfuggire,
della lotta che stava per cominciare, ai tre viaggiatori.
Gli esquimesi, accortisi che la colossale preda non poteva ormai più
evitare il loro attacco, affrettavano la corsa, mandando clamori
assordanti.
Le loro leggierissime scialuppe, lunghe dai sei agli otto metri,
coll'ossatura di fanoni di balena solidamente legati fra di loro con
nervi di renna e di volpi ed il resto di pelli ben cucite e rese
impermeabili, scivolavano sulle acque con fantastica rapidità sotto i
colpi dei remi a doppia pala.
I piccoli uomini delle terre gelate erano coperti in modo da sembrare
tanti orsi bianchi, avendo perfino le teste riparate da ampi cappucci
villosi e pur continuando ad imprimere ai loro kayaks dei grandi
slanci, non cessavano di urlare.
Una cosa aveva subito colpito il canadese: cioè che ogni canotto
portava a poppa, a fior d'acqua, un paio di grosse vesciche ben
gonfie d'aria.
— Che cosa ne faranno, Dik, di quei palloni?: — chiese allo chaffeur.
— Quelle vesciche sono legate alle fiocine e servono ad impedire alla
balena di affondare. In questo caso gli esquimesi non ne avranno
bisogno, poichè questo disgraziato cetaceo non lascerà più il suo
banco se non a pezzi.
Ecco che l'attacco comincia.
— E noi assisteremo a questa caccia senza fare nulla? — chiese lo
studente. — Cerchiamo di affrettare, a colpi di mauser, l'agonia della
balena.
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