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Tradition et nouveauté dans la poésie hellénistique

Callimachus and New Ancient Histories

Calllimaque et de nouvelles histoires anciennes
Callimaco e nuove storie antiche
Robin J. Greene

Résumés

Cette étude réévalue la présentation et la caractérisation des historiens régionaux comme « anciens » ou « nouveaux » chez Callimaque. Dans la première section, on se concentre sur l’Hécalé, afin de démontrer comment Callimaque rend artificiellement vétustes et à la fois nouveaux des éléments des histoires attiques de Philochore et d’Amélésagoras. Dans la deuxième section, on se tourne vers les Aitia, dont on précise quatre exemples de la représentation d’historiens régionaux. En amplifiant l’antiquité de l’historien, Callimaque se représente comme un participant à la tradition, de même qu’il met l’accent sur les aspects modernes de sa propre ‘histoire locale’ de l’oikoumene des Lagides.

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Introduction

  • 1 Throughout I shall employ the loose term “local histories,” as the works’ fragmentary states often (...)

1The fourth and third centuries witnessed a surge in the production of regional and local histories.1 The numbers are substantial: we have records of more than eighty local histories that can be dated securely to the Hellenistic period alone, and Jacoby provides hundreds more fragments from undated works (many likely early Hellenistic) and from histories dating to the late fifth through fourth centuries. This boom in publication not only testifies to the growing presence and dominance of prose, but also reflects the dynamism inherent in Greek historiography. Historical knowledge was continuously being reconsidered, disputed, and augmented by the introduction of these new accounts into the written record. Certain historical moments had been permanently etched into Greek collective memory—the Trojan War, the Persian Wars, and the accounts of such “marquee” authors as Herodotus and Thucydides. The local and regional histories, however, offered stories and traditions that had been largely unknown beyond the borders of a polis or, in some cases, unknown even to native members of a local population. In other words, these local historians were responsible for revealing “new” history to their fellow citizens and to the greater Hellenic community.

2Hellenistic poetry reflects the Library’s rapid accumulation of these local historical texts. Apollonius, Lycophron, Callimachus, and other Hellenistic poets found ample fodder for their aetiologizing tastes in the historians’ mytho-historical material. With regard to Callimachus, it is now a standard observation that local histories provided critical subject material for the Hecale and the Aetia. Though we have no context for it, the poet’s claim that he “sings nothing without a witness” (ἀμάρτυρον οὐδὲν ἀείδω, fr. 612 Pf) has been taken as something of a challenge by scholars in the last century, and we continue to benefit from attempts to identify the poet’s specific local sources. However, in this study, I am not so much concerned with Quellenforschung. Rather, my interest is in how Callimachus characterizes his “witnesses.” I focus upon select examples of Callimachus’ implicit and explicit rhetorical presentations of the “new” versions of the ancient past which he derives primarily from fourth and third century local histories. In particular, I consider how his characterizations of historical sources and materials as “new” or “old” affect individual episodes and the larger literary agendas of the Hecale and the Aetia.

3“New” is a nebulous term, and a particularly problematic one when dealing with ancient history, so a brief note on terminology is necessary. Throughout I generally employ “new” as a designation in two different, but often connected, ways. First, I use “new” in a temporal sense for histories that have a publication date relatively close to Callimachus’ floruit (roughly within three decades). These texts thus offer information that, when compared to other possible sources, was likely unavailable previously in written form. The second sense, connected to the first, is the more critical; “new” also indicates material with which Callimachus’ audience likely would be unfamiliar. Such material is “new” in the sense that it is “new to them.” This meaning verges on that of a term ubiquitous in descriptions of Callimachean poetry, “obscure.” Callimachus’ use of “new” ancient histories, however, is not so much a reflection of his indulgence in recondite curiosities, but instead it often serves to familiarize his readers with aspects of their ancient past that they did not already know. Like his local sources, Callimachus reveals history. The opposite of this idea of “new” history is traditional and conventional history, particularly the events and traditions with which one may expect educated readers to be acquainted. In essence, the contrast between the “new” and the “old” as they relate to Callimachus’ presentation of ancient histories is typically the difference between the unknown and the well-known.

The New Old Actaian

  • 2 This is the combination and reconstruction of the first three lines, based in part on the informati (...)

4The opening of the Hecale transports the reader to the realm of ancient Attica with language that underscores the antiquity of the setting and coats the beginning of the tale with the seeming patina of age (fr. 1–22):

Ἀκταίη τις ἔναιεν Ἐρεχθέος ἔν ποτε γουνῷ
   <πέμπελος ἀχρήμων τε> τίον δέ ἑ πάντες ὁδῖται
ἦρα φιλοξενίης· ἔχε γὰρ τέγος ἀκλήιστον

An Actaian woman once lived on the hill of Erectheus,
<a woman old and poor>, but all travelers honored her
for her hospitality, as she kept an open house

  • 3 M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, Tradition and Innovation in Hellenistic Poetry, Cambridge, CUP, 2004, p. 19 (...)
  • 4 Marm. Par. 1: . . . Κέκροψ Ἀθηνῶν ἐβασίλευσε, καὶ ἡ χώρα Κεκροπία ἐκλήθη τὸ πρότερον καλουμένη Ἀκτι (...)
  • 5 For Philochorus’ rejection of Actaeus, see P. Harding, The Story of Athens. The Fragments of the Lo (...)

5An echo of Homer is immediately heard, as Ἐρεχθέος ἔν ποτε γουνῷ alludes to Od. 11.323 (ἐκ Κρήτης ἐς γουνὸν Ἀθηνάων ἱεράων), Theseus’ only brief appearance in Homeric epic. As Fantuzzi and Hunter observe, this allows Callimachus to “both acknowledge his affiliation with the epic poet par excellence and also assert that his will be a . . . poem on a subject Homer ignored.”3 Yet what most gives the opening its archaic tone is Ἀκταίη, the ethnic adjectival form of an allegedly ancient name for Attica (Ἀκτή), here placed in the emphatic initial position. This will be a story of Attica before it was Attica, the term implies. Its ancient tenor is complemented by the appearance of the venerable Erechtheus and the temporally-distancing aspect of ποτε. However, the sense of antiquity conveyed by Ἀκταίη is a product of artifice, not age. Unattested prior to this appearance, it is likely a Callimachean, or at least Hellenistic, coinage inspired by Ἀκτή, a term that was involved in contemporary scholarly debates about the ancient name of Attica. The Atthidographer consulted by the author of the Marmor Parium (ca. 264/63 maintained that the original name of Attica was Ἀκτικὴ, after the early autochthon Actaeus.4 Philochorus, the last native Atthidographer, opposed this etymology, claiming that Actaeus never existed (FGrH 328 F 92a). He instead seems to have provided a different name—perhaps Ἀκτή—or etymology for the region in a polemical passage at the beginning of his Atthis.5 Although the specific elements of the debate cannot be reconstructed given the state of the fragments of Philochorus and the other Atthidographers, the existence of the controversy indicates that Callimachus began his poem with a charged term drawn from contemporary Attic historians’ attempts to unearth their own ancient etymology. Ἀκταίη is certainly a scholarly term, but its presence is more than an advertisement of Callimachus’ “antiquarian” tendencies: it stresses that the antiquity of the Hecale is an antiquity that is both created from and defined by an evolving contemporary perspective.

  • 6 On Philochorus as Callimachus’ source, for which Plutarch, Thes. 14 is our primary witness, see F.  (...)
  • 7 F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 328, p. 241–44.
  • 8 A. S. Hollis (ed.), op. cit., p. 3–4.
  • 9 I. Kapp, Callimachi Hecalae Fragmenta, Ph.D., Berlin, 1915, p. 10.

6Callimachus’ evident familiarity with Philochorus’ works assures that he was acquainted with the debate. It is generally accepted that the Atthidographer was the poet’s source for the character Hecale and her encounter with Theseus, though it remains unclear if Callimachus derived the tale from the historian’s Atthis or his work on the Marathonian Tetrapolis.6 In either case, from Callimachus’ perspective, these texts were recent additions to the body of Attic history. Dates both for the historian’s publications and the Hecale are uncertain, though it is likely that the works were published within a decade or so of each other. Callimachus was Philochorus’ junior by about two decades, but their periods of academic activity significantly overlapped, at least between the late 280s and 262/61, the year of Philochorus’ death. Jacoby maintains that the historian spent the last twenty years of his life on his Atthis. This allows for an earliest publication date for the first books of the Atthis in the 280s, with his other monographs likely having been written earlier.7 Hollis suggests that the Hecale predates Iambus 4 and may have been composed in the 270s.8 The contemporaneity of the poet and the historian once lead Kapp to doubt whether Callimachus could even have had the opportunity to consult Philochorus’ monographs.9 Although such skepticism is no longer felt, the relatively brief interval between the publication of Philochorus’ texts and the Hecale is a critical element reflected in Callimachus’ representation of “new” ancient Attic history.

  • 10 Cf. A. S. Hollis (ed.), op. cit., p. 425, where he notes that “we rather expect an early mention of (...)
  • 11 The line was identified as a variation on this motif by M. A. Harder, “Callimachus,” in I. J. F. de (...)

7The contemporaneity of the texts is especially relevant to the poem’s first lines. In addition to the sense of ostensible antiquity it creates, Ἀκταίη also serves substantively as the only means by which Hecale is initially identified. Hollis’ connection of fragment 1 with fragment 2 provides the poem’s first three lines, and his reconstruction of the missing elements in the second line does not include Hecale’s name.10 Her identification as simply Ἀκταίη τις could indicate that Hecale enjoyed a certain level of fame, and thus suggests an anticipated audience familiar enough with early Attic history to associate Hecale with the description provided in the lines that follow. The phrasing of the first line does not encourage this interpretation. Ἀκταίη τις ἔναιεν is a variation on the Homeric motif “there was a person X” (ἔσκε / ἦν δέ τις) which, along with its counterpart “there was a place X” (ἔστι δέ τις), is found twenty-one times in the Iliad and Odyssey.11 In every Homeric example, “there was a person X” is used to introduce an individual with whom the internal or external audiences are presumed to be unacquainted. Thus Odysseus first refers to Elpenor in his Phaeacian account (Od. 10.552), Polyphemus refers to Telemus (Od. 9.508), and the epic narrator introduces Ctesippus (Od. 20.287), Dolon (Il. 10.314), and Dares (Il. 5.9). Although we often interpret the Hecale’s first line as if it has a simple fairy-tale flavor (“once upon a time there was an Attic woman”), the Homeric phrasing conveys the more specific implication that Callimachus is introducing a figure who, though located in an ancient Attica perhaps recognizable to the well-read, will nonetheless be new and unfamiliar to his readers.

  • 12 On the work’s relationship with Homer, see especially M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, op. cit., p. 249–55. (...)
  • 13 E. Kearns, The Heroes of Attica, London, Institute of Classical Studies, 1989, p. 95, cf. p. 92 and (...)
  • 14 F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 328 F 109, p. 435–37. The fragmentary state of the Atthidographers forbids the a (...)

8The poem’s modern sensibilities, as particularly expressed in its reconsideration of traditional heroism and reconfiguration of Homeric and tragic antecedents, encourages us to view the Hecale as an old story told in a new way.12 Yet the poet’s initial presentation of its main character as a “new” figure, combined with what we know of Hecale’s existence in Attic cult prior to the publications of Philochorus and Callimachus, complicates the classification of her story as an “old” one. There is little doubt that the local festival celebrated by her eponymous deme in honor of Hecale and Zeus Hecaleus was an old custom, since, as Kearns attests, Ἑκαλίνη and Ἑκάλειος Ζεύς were not recent formations.13 Beyond this, there is no evidence regarding either the festival or the story of Hecale and Theseus that predates Philochorus’ texts. Jacoby offers the attractive suggestion that Philochorus, whose works reveal his avid interest in the idiosyncratic local histories of the various demes, discovered in the course of his research an oral version of her encounter with Theseus that had been locally created and preserved.14 In the sense that some form of Hecale’s story probably existed in an oral form that was restricted to her deme, it is an “old” tale. Yet is was Philochorus’ written version of it that introduced Hecale to a wider Attic and extra-Attic audience. For most in Athens, the story was likely a new one that was not a familiar part of their cultic tradition; rather, it came to them through modern historical research. The short interval between Philochorus’ publication and Callimachus’ Hecale confirms that the poet could assume his more international audience would be ignorant of this newly-discovered ancient heroine. Hecale’s local tradition may have been old, but, for those beyond the borders of her deme, she was an unknown entering the larger Attic and Mediterranean worlds through the modern texts of Philochorus and Callimachus. Consequently, it is more accurate to regard Hecale as a new story of the ancient world told in a new way, making particularly apropos Callimachus’ use of the Homeric motif for introducing unfamiliar individuals.

  • 15 See C. McNelis, “Mourning Glory: Callimachus’ Hecale and Heroic Honors,” MD 50, 2003, p. 155–61, wh (...)
  • 16 G. O. Hutchinson, Hellenistic Poetry, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1988, p. 62–63, suggests that, after (...)

9That the poem’s focus is on this new character is clear: the work begins and ends with Hecale, and the scenes set at her hut are its heart.15 Theseus’ heroic exploits are thus framed by Hecale and we comprehend his accomplishments as they relate to the old woman. The death of Cercyon at Theseus’ hand, which may have been narrated or alluded to in an earlier portion of the poem, gains special poignancy when we learn that Cercyon was responsible for the death of one of Hecale’s sons (fr. 49).16 Similarly, Theseus’ defeat of the Marathonian Bull is promptly connected to Hecale, as the poet moves from the hero’s moment of triumph to the revelation that Hecale has died. It is not only the heroic narrative that the poet frames with the story of Hecale. Callimachus also shapes his presentation of traditional Attic mytho-history around Philochorus’ “new” historical actor, as the speech of the garrulous old crow reveals. The first three preserved portions of the crow’s speech are crowded with references to watershed moments in the Attic past; below is a summary of her account based on Hollis’ reconstruction and discussion of fragments 70–73.

10As we have it, her story begins with a reference to Hephaestus’ attempt on Athena and the resultant birth of Erichthonius, an event that was before the crow’s time, but which she heard about from ancient birds. This is the background for her primary mytho-historical account that recalls the failure of the daughters of Cecrops to abide by Athena’s command that they not look into the basket that contained the infant Erichthonius. Athena, the crow observes, left the child with these guardians while she went to Pellene in order to get a “bulwark for her land” (fr. 70.9), a land that she had just won in her contest against Poseidon. The curious Cecropidae did look into the basket, and the goddess was informed of their disobedience by the crow herself. In her anger the goddess dropped the chunk of the mountain Hypsizorus which she had been carrying (the intended “bulwark”) in front of the gymnasium of Lycean Apollo. This great mass remained permanently in place and became the Athenian Lycabettus. Athena then turned the crow and her kind black and banished them from the Acropolis as punishment for bearing her bad tidings. The crow then prophesies that a similar fate will befall the raven for informing Apollo of Coronis’ affair (fr. 74).

  • 17 On which see N. Loraux, The Children of Athena. Athenian Ideas about Citizenship and the Division b (...)
  • 18 I. Gildenhard, A. Zissos, “Ovid’s Hecale: Deconstructing Athens in the Metamorphoses,” JRS 94, 2004 (...)
  • 19 Both B. Gentili, “Review: The Oxyrhynchus papyri, part 25,” Gnomon 33, 1961, p. 331–44, at p. 342, (...)
  • 20 Cf. B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, op. cit., p. 202, for remarks on the poem’s marginalization of “ (...)

11The crow’s speech touches on five traditional historical and aetiological stories: the circumstances of Erichthonius’ conception and birth (fr. 70.6–8), which relate directly to Athenian autochthonous ideology,17 the contest between Athena and Poseidon for Athens (fr. 70.10–11), the disobedience of the Cecropidae (fr. 70.12–14), the origin of the Lycabettus (fr. 71), and the popular tradition that crows did not frequent the Acropolis (fr. 73). This oral history of the early Attic past heightens the ancient tone of the poem and, as Gildenhard and Zissos observe, gives the poet the opportunity to “reproduce the rigorously Athenocentric world view to which the Atthidographers subscribed.”18 However, the narrative context of the crow’s digression reorients this encapsulation of ideologically-charged Attic history and directs it specifically towards Hecale. The story’s essential point is that messengers are penalized when they bear bad news, just as the crow was and as the raven will be. The connection between this lesson and the preceding fragment that narrates Theseus’ victory (fr. 69) is likely Hecale’s death, which must have occurred in the intervening lines. Thus the crow’s speech constitutes a warning to her companion not to notify Theseus of the old woman’s passing.19 Hecale, then, is the impetus for the Callimachean crow’s historical recollections. As Theseus’ story is framed by that of the old woman, so too is Attic history specifically evoked and articulated in relation to her. Whereas the tale of Hecale was presumably a digression in Philochorus’ larger historical project, Callimachus reconfigures not just Theseus’ story, but also the tales of early Attica so that they become digressions in her own story. The “old” ideologically-charged mytho-history so critical to homogenous Attic cultural and civic identity is retained, but it is subordinated in order to highlight a “new” ancient Actaian, one who offers a heterogenous Panhellenic audience an applicable model of hospitable heroism that traditional Attic history could not provide.20

  • 21 Cf. A. S. Hollis (ed.), op. cit., p. 242, who shows that the narrating crow and the crow in the nar (...)
  • 22 See ibid., p. 226–32, where he also notes Callimachus’ possible divergence from Amelesagoras with r (...)
  • 23 F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 330 F 1, p. 602.

12The sense of antiquity communicated by the crow’s nostalgic recollections is reinforced by the stress that she puts on her own advanced age. Hatched in the reign of Cecrops, she was old enough to hear the rumor of Hephaestus’ attempt on Athena from “primordial birds” (ὠγυγίους οἰωνούς, fr. 70.7–8), and to have herself informed Athena of the Cecropidae’s disobedience (fr. 71.2).21 Now in her eighth generation (fr. 73.13), she is more than old enough to justify referring to herself as “old crow” (γρῆϋ[ν] κορών[ην, fr. 74.9) and to swear by her own “withered hide” (ῥικνὸν σῦφαρ ἐμόν, fr. 74.10–11). The ancient crow has witnessed and participated in her homeland’s early history, and thus presents herself as an historical authority by virtue of personal autopsy. Yet despite the emphasis placed upon the antiquity of the tale and its teller, her story is a modern one that rewrites ancient history. Callimachus’ source for her speech is almost certainly the pseudonymous Attic historian Amelesagoras, tentatively dated to around 300, whose version is paraphrased by Antigonus of Carystius (Mir. 12).22 The identification of Amelesagoras as the poet’s source was a relatively uncomplicated task, not only because the two narratives are clearly similar, but also because both versions markedly depart from other Atthidographic accounts. It is true that the three main strands of the crow’s narrative—Erichthonius and the Cecropidae, the origin of the Lycabettus, and the popular tradition that crows did not frequent the Acropolis—were all conventional elements of Attic mytho-history. What was new about Amelesagoras’ account was that he integrated these three traditions, previously treated as discrete, into a single aetiological story. As Jacoby observes, “we do not even have here ‘three myths connected among themselves,’ but evidently a literary combination of three different components which still appear separately in our tradition . . . nobody in Athens knew of a connexion until Amelesagoras . . . wrote it down.”23

  • 24 Ibid., p. 602–3.
  • 25 Ibid., p. 603. He notes that both narratives share the same basic storyline: a bird brings a god un (...)
  • 26 See I. Gildenhard, A. Zissos, art. cit., p. 51 n. 26 on this “studied intertextual gesture.”

13In addition to his manipulation of different Attic traditions, the historian’s account also bears the marks of creative invention, which are echoed in Callimachus’ version. There is no evidence that an explanation was attached to the Athenian belief that crows avoided the Acropolis prior to that of Amelesagoras. The historian appears to have invented the avian informant and Athena’s anger against her in order to link the three unrelated traditions together.24 Jacoby has shown that his model for the crow and her punishment was likely Hesiod’s account of Coronis, Apollo, and the raven (fr. 60 M‑W).25 Amelesagoras’ Hesiod-inspired creation does not slip past Callimachus. Just after her historical narrative, the poet’s crow foretells the fate of the same raven who informed Apollo of Coronis’ infidelity in the Eoiae (fr. 74.15–20). In other words, she “predicts” the literary past that inspired Amelesagoras to create her. With this, Callimachus signals that he recognizes Amelesagoras was fabricating history, and exposes the historian’s poetic source through the allusion.26

14Moreover, the poet may even hint at his own historical source by characterizing his crow with an allusion to Amelesagoras’ own representation of himself. Maximus of Tyre provides one of the few scraps of information preserved about Amelesagoras (= Melesagoras) (Dialexeis 38.3.1–2):

Ἐγένετο καὶ Ἀθήνησιν ἀνὴρ Ἐλευσίνιος, ὄνομα Μελησαγόρας· οὗτος οὐ τέχνην μαθών, ἀλλ᾽ ἐκ νυμφῶν κάτοχος, θείᾳ μοίρᾳ σοφὸς ἦν καὶ μαντικός . . . 

There was an Eleusinian man at Athens, Melesagoras by name. This man was wise by divine allotment and was a prophet, not because he learned the skill, but because he was inspired by nymphs . . .

  • 27 F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 330, p. 598–99. If the distinction made by Maximus between a learned art and div (...)
  • 28 The tradition of the Attic Thriai and their role in divination is a vexed one, consisting of severa (...)

15Jacoby suggests that this description was derived from Amelesagoras’ introduction to his Atthis, wherein Amelesagoras may have credited his work to his inspiration by mantic nymphs.27 This would be an extraordinary (and likely tongue-in-cheek) pose for an historian to strike, as he attributes his historical knowledge to nymphs, who traditionally look to the future, as opposed to his own investigations of the past. If Jacoby is correct, then Amelesagoras’ mantic nymphs may be echoed in the Callimachean crow’s attribution of her own prophetic abilities to the mantic Thriai (fr. 74.9).28 Both the historian and the poet’s crow are divinely inspired by nymphs to prophesy the past, as Callimachus reflects the historian’s facetious biography in his own amusing version of the crow that Amelesagoras concocted. The final irony of the episode is that Callimachus takes the historian’s creation one step further: he casts the historian’s crow as the embodied and “ancient” voice of Amelesagoras’ own narrative. The historian’s fabricated character becomes the venerable guarantor of the veracity of Amelesagoras’ invented history! Ultimately, the crow, the Hecale’s aged authority on Attic mytho-history, is a thoroughly modern creation, an example of “new” history cast as emphatically, and in this case humorously, ancient.

  • 29 G. Benedetto, art. cit., passim, provides an overview and discussion of other Atthidographic elemen (...)

16Callimachus begins his tale of ancient Attica by centering on a “new” historical figure who is at once unfamiliar and yet introduced as the representative of all Attica. It is around his Ἀκταίη τις that the poet shapes Theseus’ exploits and other moments of traditional—and not so traditional—Attic mytho-history. The tattered state of both the Hecale and the works of the Atthidographers hinders the identification of the specific literary effects of Callimachus’ inclusion of other elements drawn from Atthidographic accounts.29 The two substantial examples we do have share one distinguishing feature: both are anomalies in the Atthidographic tradition. Philochorus introduces a “new” character into the exploits of Theseus, and Amelesagoras, inspired by a poetic model, reconfigures standard historical material in order to rewrite and link unconnected traditions. In choosing Hecale as his poem’s focus and by incorporating an aberrant account of the early history of the polis, Callimachus selects, privileges, and antiquates these singular moments of contemporary Atthidographic originality. The Hecale is a poem of “old” Attica to be sure, but it presents an Attica re-imagined, founded not upon traditional Atthidographic material, but upon the new ancient histories of Philochorus and Amelesagoras.

Histories of the Aetia, New and Old

  • 30 I use the edition and fragment numeration of M. A. Harder (ed.), Callimachus. Aetia, Oxford, OUP, 2 (...)
  • 31 M. Asper, “Callimachean Geopoetics and the Ptolemaic Empire,” in B. Acosta-Hughes, L. Lehnus, S. St (...)

17In the Hecale Callimachus exposes his interest in modern additions to the Atthidographic tradition. The Aetia also presents a scene that features another Atthidographer who moved beyond convention and offered a “new” historical contribution. One of the poem’s most famous passages is the ‘Banquet of Pollis’ (fr. 17830), which presents a sympotic scene, held in observance of the Attic Aiora, at the Egyptian home of the Athenian ex-patriot Pollis. Here the Callimachean narrator meets another attendee, a stranger just arrived from the island Icus, whom the narrator presses for information about his homeland’s cult of Peleus. Modern scholars have rightly made much of this episode, and have identified within it multiple layers of significance. Of particular importance are its intertextual links with both the Odyssey and Platonic dialogues, which are directed towards presenting this symposium as idealized in both epic and Platonic terms; Markus Asper, moreover, has shown that the gathering ultimately offers an image of cultural unity, despite the disparate backgrounds of its participants.31 It is not my intent to argue against these readings, but rather to observe in addition to them an underlying drama of the “new” and “old” being staged between Callimachus’ likely Attic sources for the section.

18The fragment begins with the narrator remarking on their host’s meticulous observance of Attic festivals, and continues with the introduction of the Ician stranger (178.1–12):

ἠὼς οὐδὲ πιθοιγὶς ἐλάνθανεν οὐδ᾽ ὅτε δούλοις
   ἦμαρ Ὀρέστειοι λευκὸν ἄγουσι χόες·
Ἰκαρίου καὶ παιδὸς ἄγων ἐπέτειον ἁγιστύν,
   Ἀτθίσιν οἰκτίστη, σὸν φάος, Ἠριγόνη,
ἐ̣ς δ̣α̣ίτη̣ν̣ ἐκ̣άλ̣ε̣σσεν ὁμηθέας, ἐν δέ νυ τοῖσι
   ξεῖνον ὃς Α[ἰ]γύπτῳ καινὸς ἀνεστρέφετο
μεμβλωκὼς ἴδιόν τι κατὰ χρέος· ἦν δὲ γενέθλην
   Ἴκ̣ιος, ᾧ ξυνὴν εἶχον ἐγὼ κλισίην
οὐκ ἐπιτάξ, ἀλλ᾽ αἶνος Ὁμηρικός, αἰὲν ὁμοῖον
   ὡς θεός, οὐ ψευδής, ἐς τὸν ὁμοῖον ἄγει.
καὶ γὰρ ὁ Θρηϊκίην μὲν ἀπέστυγε χανδὸν ἄμυστιν
   ζωροποτεῖν, ὀλίγῳ δ᾽ ἥδετο κισσυβίῳ.

Nor did the day of the opening of the jars [the Pithoigia] pass by without [Pollis’] observance, nor the day of Orestes’ pitchers [the Choes], which brings a white day for slaves. And he [Pollis], observing the annual ceremony of Icarius’ child [the Aiora], your day, Erigone, most lamented by Attic women, invited his friends to a banquet. And among them there was a stranger, one recently arrived in Egypt, having come on private business. He was by birth an Ician, and I shared a couch with him, not by pre-arrangement, but the Homeric proverb that ‘always the god brings like to like’ is no lie. For he also detested gulping down wine from large Thracian cups, but preferred a small cup.

  • 32 On the festivals, see R. Scodel, “Wine, Water, and the Anthesteria in Callimachus fr. 178 Pf,” ZPE  (...)
  • 33 Euripides: χῶρός Ἀτθίδος (IT 1450); γῆς Ἀτθίδος (Ion 13); πύργος Ἀτθίδος (Phoen. 1706); Παλλάδος Ἀτ (...)
  • 34 E.g. Dionysius Halicarnassensis, Amm. 9.5: ὡς δηλοῖ Φιλόχορος ἐν ἕκτῃ βύβλῳ τῆς Ἀτθίδος. So far as (...)
  • 35 F. Jacoby, Atthis, op. cit., p. 85, suggests that Callimachus took the term from the title of Amele (...)

19The information about the festivals celebrated by Pollis is generally thought to have been derived from Attic histories.32 In fact, Callimachus discloses his debt to Atthidography in the first four lines of the passage with a pun. In his apostrophe to Erigone, she is called Ἀτθίσιν οἰκτίστη, which is often translated along the lines of “most lamented by Attic women” in reference to the ritual lamentation at her festival. There are few attested uses of Ἀτθίς that predate Callimachus, but in all of them the adjective is never used substantively or attributively of individuals, but always of the Attic land and, in one case each, of Athena and of Attic ships.33 After the middle of the third century, the meaning and applications of Ἀτθίς change. Although it is still used sporadically of the Attic dialect or, in some later examples, the Attic land, Ἀτθίς primarily appears as the uniform title for works of Atthidography in prose source citations.34 This change in meaning and usage is likely the result of the Library’s collection and categorization of the local Attic chronicles under the generic designation “Ἀτθίδες.” Given the rough date of the Aetia, it is equally valid—if not preferable—to translate Ἀτθίσιν οἰκτίστη as a pun on the genre’s name, “Erigone, most lamented by the Atthides.” Callimachus’ play on literary taxonomy gains extra force under the prevailing theory that it was the poet himself who, while compiling the Pinakes, selected “Ἀτθίδες” as the umbrella label for works of Atthidography.35 This is a cleverly indirect means of source citation. At the same time, the conflation of texts with individuals accomplished by Ἀτθίσιν presages a similar conflation that will take place in the person of the Ician stranger.

  • 36 See R. Pfeiffer, Kallimachosstudien. Untersuchungen zur „Arsinoe‟ und zu den „Aitia‟ des Kallimacho (...)

20These first four lines are dense with erudition, but also with a sense of timeworn tradition. The poet’s emphasis on Pollis’ thorough observance of the festivals (οὐδὲ . . . ἐλάνθανεν οὐδ᾽, 1), which come around every year (ἐπέτειον ἁγιστύν, 3), presents them as normalized and predictable events. Although the plural is required for Callimachus’ witty pun on Attic women and Atthides, Ἀτθίσιν οἰκτίστη also accurately insinuates that Erigone’s story and its variants was a popular topic for other historians and poets.36 From Callimachus’ perspective, there is nothing “new” about her tale. It is not surprising that the poet foregoes narrating the aetia of these festivals, as his dramatized description here presents them as culturally significant, but also well-known and lacking in the novelty that often draws his attention.

  • 37 On this usage of καινὸς, see E. Dettori, “Appunti sul ‘Banchetto di Pollis’ (Call. fr. 178 Pf),” in (...)
  • 38 A. Cameron, Callimachus and His Critics, Princeton, PUP, 1995, p. 136–37.
  • 39 M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 969.

21The Ician is introduced into this cycle of traditional ancient festivals, and his “newness” is abruptly emphasized in contrast to the preceding lines; he is a “stranger who has just arrived (καινὸς ἀνεστρέφετο) in Egypt” (6). This use of καινὸς, though necessarily adverbial,37 also evokes the more basic meanings of the term as “new” and “fresh”: the entrance of Theogenes the Ician stranger enlivens the scene. As has been much-discussed, the Callimachean narrator is immediately taken with his new companion and views him as an analogue. They share a couch “because it is no lie that the god brings like to like” (9–10), and they discover their mutual appreciation for the kissubion (12). Their common preference for the small cup over large Thracian-style gulps has programmatic implications. In this moment the Callimachean narrator reiterates the value of the small and refined central to the poet’s own literary aesthetic, and locates these same values in the Ician.38 Harder additionally notes that the similarity between the two may serve as a discrete indication “that Theogenes is going to tell a story in accordance with Callimachus’ aesthetic program.”39

  • 40 B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, op. cit., p. 77, connect this Pollis to the Pollis to whom Plato was (...)
  • 41 A. D. Morrison, The Narrator in Archaic Greek and Hellenistic Poetry, Cambridge, CUP, 2007, p. 187. (...)
  • 42 L. Malten, “Ein neues Bruchstück aus den Aitia des Kallimachos,” Hermes 53, 1918, p. 147–79, at p.  (...)
  • 43 Among those who clearly support the Iciaca as Callimachus’ source are: F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 325 T 7, (...)
  • 44 Reading the Ician as an anthropomorphized text also may add to the significance of the Odyssean ove (...)

22The scene at Pollis’ home is almost certainly a fictional one, particularly given the significance of Pollis’ name, which cannot be coincidental in light of the thematic focus on transnational cultural appreciation and unity.40 Accordingly, behind Theogenes the Ician and his story is an uncredited textual source from which the poet derived his tale of Peleus’ cult. This staged sympotic conversation simulates traditional oral transmission at the expense of the actual written authority, just as the imagined conversation with the Muses does elsewhere in the first two books.41 The Ician is an invented pretense, a character created to both mask and serve as the authoritative embodied voice of the poet’s textual source, much like the Amelesagorean crow in the Hecale. Callimachus does not cite this source, but nearly a century ago Malten read εἰδότες ὡς ἐνέπου[σιν (“as those who know inform [me?]”, fr. 178.27) as indicative of a prose source, and proposed that it was the local history of Icus penned by the fourth-century Atthidographer Phanodemus.42 Although no fragments of the work have survived, this Iciaca remains the most convincing candidate, and Malten’s theory has been accepted, albeit often tentatively, by a number of scholars.43 The identification of the Iciaca as the text behind the Ician reveals that Callimachus continues and amplifies the conflation of individuals and texts that he initiated with Ἀτθίσιν. The Iciaca of the Atthidographer is, so to speak, anthropomorphized into the Ician stranger at the house of an Athenian. This reading of the Ician as the anthropomorphization of the Iciaca adds another dimension to the poet’s representation of the aesthetic sensibilities shared by the narrator and the new arrival: it communicates Callimachus’ positive appraisal of the text. A local history of an ancillary island that contained such novel bits of lore as the aetion of Peleus’ Ician cult aligns with the poet’s characteristic fascination with the small and the local. The pleasure of the Callimachean narrator at meeting and hearing the (presumably) ancient tale of the new Ician serves as a metaphor for the poet’s appreciation of the historical text that he is using both for information and inspiration.44

  • 45 On the Callimachean narrator’s “desire to hear” and Homeric precedents, see D. Meyer, “‘Nichts Unbe (...)
  • 46 M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, op. cit., p. 83. Their evaluation is focused on Pollis’ non-selective mimet (...)
  • 47 M. Asper, “Callimachean Geopoetics and the Ptolemaic Empire,” art. cit., p. 170; cf. B. Acosta-Hugh (...)
  • 48 It is entirely possible that Phanodemus’ Atthis is Callimachus’ source for the festivals (or one of (...)
  • 49 In this episode Callimachus likely (implicitly) connects the mythical background of the tale of Pel (...)

23The textual drama being staged in the scene is a novel one, for Callimachus is comparing the historical genre in which Phanodemus was primarily active, Atthidography, and his unusual side project on the history of Icus. The opening of the episode depicts the festivals described by the Atthides as well-known and predictable. Their timeworn familiarity is absent from the character of the Ician and, we may assume, the “new” ancient material about Peleus’ cult derived from the Iciaca. Instead, the prospect of hearing the Ician’s story invigorates the Callimachean narrator and fills him with an insatiable “desire to hear” (ἐμεῖο σ[έ]θεν πάρα θυμὸς ἀκοῦσαι ἰχαίνει, 21–22).45 The dramatized difference between the “old” Atthides and the “new” Iciaca, again more aptly figured as the “familiar” and the “unfamiliar,” is clear. It is a pivotal moment when the Callimachean narrator abstains from providing the aetia of well-known Athenian traditions, and gives his attention instead to the more mysterious traditions of Icus. Fantuzzi and Hunter see in this moment an acknowledgment of the Athenian classical tradition that served as the “necessary background to Callimachean poetry,” but was also “what must be set aside as the poet marks out his own poetic space.”46 But there is irony in this as well. Callimachus’ symbolic movement away from the Athenian tradition, a tradition here evoked through Atthidographic material, is accomplished through his use of a text written by an Atthidographer. The explanation for Callimachus’ choice to use this unexpected representative is tied to the fundamental meaning of the banquet scene. As has been noted in recent scholarship, Pollis’ gathering brings together individuals who have been transplanted from their homelands and are sharing their own local traditions with each other. At its core, it is a scene about the interaction between and appreciation of diverse local Greek cultures.47 Callimachus reflects the need for seeing beyond the boundaries of one’s homeland by first setting the scene with traditional Atthidographic material, the very sort of material that Phanodemus provided in his own Atthis.48 He then redirects his focus to the Ician’s story, a tale taken from a text that testifies to Phanodemus’ unconventional redirection of his own interests to Icus. Phanodemus’ ability to see beyond Athens and write about another land reflects the attitude necessary for a modern individual, and a modern poet, to value the stories of different local cultures. In this respect, the Atthidographer who looked also to Icus serves as a model for Callimachus. Throughout the Aetia the poet refuses to be confined to any myopic perspective or parochial tradition, and instead represents himself as devoted to encountering new and unfamiliar local stories and making connections among them.49

  • 50 . . . τ(ὴν) δ᾽ ἱστορίαν ἔλαβεν π̣[(αρὰ) Ἀγίου] κ(αὶ) Δερκύλου, (ἐστὶ) κ(αὶ) π(αρὰ) Ἀριστοτέλει ἐ[ν] (...)
  • 51 On Dercylus’ version, see F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 305 F 8, p. 18, and P. Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, I (...)

24The critical role that local histories’ new views of the ancient past play in the Aetia is evident from the first proper aetion (fr. 3–7b), where the poet sets “new” local knowledge against traditional Panhellenic knowledge. The Callimachean narrator, dreaming of himself as a young second Hesiod in conversation with the Muses, asks them about the origin of the Parians’ idiosyncratic sacrifice to the Charites, and then inquires into the Charites’ correct genealogy. Only a single line from this latter section survives, but the Florentine scholiast provides a summary of the scene. According to the scholiast, the scholarly narrator recounts three different traditions about their parentage: some declare they are the daughters of Zeus and Hera, others say Zeus and Eurynome (οἱ δ᾽ ἕνεκ᾽ Εὐρυνόμη Τιτηνιὰς εἶπαν ἔτικτεν, fr. 6), and still others Zeus and Evanthe. The Muse instead maintains that they are the children of Dionysus and the Naxian nymph Coronis. The scholiast concludes with the observation that Callimachus derived the account of the Parian sacrifice and the “correct” genealogy of the Charites from the Argolica of Agias and Dercylus.50 The specific relationship between the two authors is unclear, but the prevailing theory is that Agias wrote a prose or poetic Argolica that was subsequently epitomized or revised by Dercylus, probably in the latter decades of the fourth century. It was this later prose Argolica of Dercylus that Callimachus likely used as a source here and elsewhere in the poem.51

  • 52 Such phrases simulate traditional oral communication and act as smokescreens for the scholarly poet (...)
  • 53 E.g. Clio’s discourse on the invocation to the anonymous founders of Zancle (fr. 43.58–83). Althoug (...)

25Based on the phrasing of fragment 6, the Callimachean narrator presents the three different possible genealogies known to him without any source attribution, though the indeterminate phrase “some say” (οἱ δ᾽ . . . εἶπαν) and its variations often occur in Hellenistic poetry as indications that a textual source has been consulted.52 It is unfortunate that Clio’s response has not survived, for the scholiast gives no indication as to how she presents the material derived from the Argolica. He states only that Callimachus “heard about the birth of the Charites, that they were the children of Dionysus and the Naxian nymph Coronis” (fr. 7a.10–12). The possibility that she explicitly cites a textual source is incongruous with Callimachus’ presentation of the Muses elsewhere, and can hardly be considered. It is far more likely that the Muse explains the genealogy simply and on her own authority, as she and her sisters do in their other preserved scenes.53 Thus in this passage the textual source is subsumed into the Muse’s voice. The genealogy provided by the Argolica becomes part of the Muses’ own memories, which casts it as immutable fact, as old as the conception of the Charites themselves. Callimachus’ presentation of the Muses as the possessors of the knowledge that he found in the Argolica not only suppresses the historical source, but also confers upon its information the divine seal of genuine antiquity.

  • 54 On which see H. Reinsch-Werner, Callimachus Hesiodicus. Die Rezeption der hesiodischen Dichtung dur (...)
  • 55 M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, op. cit., p. 51–58, esp. p. 56–57. They provide the fundamental discussion (...)
  • 56 Ibid., p. 75, commenting on Callimachus’ wish to rid himself of “old age” in the Prologue: “It is C (...)
  • 57 P. J. Parsons, “Callimachus: Victoria Berenices,” ZPE 25, 1977, p. 1–50, at p. 49–50, proposes that (...)
  • 58 The hymnic elements in the episode may create the impression of a proemial hymn, as discussed by M. (...)

26The Muse’s endorsement of the Argolica’s genealogy is both humorous and unexpected, for the second set of parents suggested by the narrator and rejected by Clio, Zeus and Eurynome, is the same one the Muses provided Hesiod in the Theogony (907–9).54 Suddenly the poet whom Callimachus has been establishing as his model is relegated to being one of many unnamed and mistaken sources. What is more, Fantuzzi and Hunter have shown that the Muse’s contradiction of the very genealogy she and her sisters gave Hesiod underscores the protean nature of ancient mythological truth and the potential folly in attempting to identify the “correct” account.55 Yet Callimachus’ decision not to have his Muse repeat her earlier reply to Hesiod is a logical one, for it emphasizes and enacts the necessary separation of the poet from the poetic tradition that he wishes to rejuvenate.56 He instead selects a modern local history as the source for his Muse’s “new” truth, a choice that highlights an integral element of his poetic agenda for the Aetia. In its earlier form,57 the poem lacked the Prologue’s complex array of allusions to multiple prose and poetic genres that collectively introduced the literary diversity intrinsic to the Aetia. The first aetion, however, evokes this diversity as well, though on more modest scale than the Prologue. Set beside elements drawn from the didactic and hymnic traditions,58 the inclusion of material derived from the Argolica foreshadows the poem’s fundamental engagement with generic variety, and in particular its reliance upon prose texts and the new perspectives they offer.

  • 59 Compare the humorous presentation of Xenomedes as Calliope’s source at fr. 75.77.
  • 60 In addition to Hesiod, Callimachus is also implicitly rejecting the genealogy provided by Pindar (O (...)

27In one sense, Callimachus is presenting a paradoxically “updated” Muse, whose timeless knowledge is derived from a modern historical text.59 Yet to understand the contrast Callimachus is highlighting between the Theogony and the Argolica as one based on chronology is a mistake. Dercylus’ history was certainly a “new” text in the sense that it was likely published in the later fourth century. However, the Argolica was nonetheless also providing information that it, from its local perspective, could reasonably characterize as “ancient.” Callimachus is not weighing Hesiod’s ancient version of divine genealogy against that of the Argolica in terms of their relative modernity, for both sources offer truths that can legitimately claim antiquity. Instead, the poet is privileging a local and thus less well-known (“new”) view of ancient history over the conventional and well-known account offered by a central authority for the traditional Panhellenic past. More generally, this local genealogy also deviates from the Panhellenic perspective of the three “incorrect” genealogies, which all represent Zeus as the Charites’ father.60 The concentration upon the local in this first aetion provides an introductory indication of the quality of Callimachus’ focus throughout the Aetia. The Muse’s “new” genealogy redirects his attention away from the traditionally Panhellenic past and towards the local and unfamiliar. Callimachus forecasts what will often be his practice throughout the Aetia, as the local stories he selects regularly present to his readers visions of their cultural past that redefine or even challenge mainstream Greek views of ancient history.

  • 61 On the phrasing, see M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 725–26. Βύνη occurs elsewhere in Hellenis (...)
  • 62 G. Massimilla (ed.), Callimaco. Aitia. Libro terzo e quarto, Pisa, F. Serra, 2010, ad fr. 194, p. 4 (...)
  • 63 Ibid., p. 728–30, provides the text of the Diegesis and ancient examples of the standard account.
  • 64 See E. R. Gebhard, M. W. Dickie, “Melikertes-Palaimon, Hero of the Isthmian Games,” in R. Hägg (ed. (...)
  • 65 The Nemean Games in the ‘Victoria Berenices’ (fr. 54h–i), which begins the third book; the Olympics (...)

28Callimachus explores just such a conflict between a local view of the past and a more traditional view in the third book of the Aetia, when he provides a peculiar variant version of a conventional tale that has Panhellenic significance. Only the first line and two damaged lines from the conclusion of the episode about the young Melicertes have survived (fr. 91 and 92), along with the diegete’s summary. The opening is an address to Melicertes: α.... Μ̣ελικέρτα, μιῆς ἐπὶ πότνια Βύνη (“ . . . Melicertes, revered Byne upon one”). Βύνη (“she who plunges”), a Boeotian name for Ino/Leucothea, foreshadows Ino’s leap, and the Homeric placement and usage of πότνια may also point to her future as the goddess Leucothea.61 Massimilla suggests that SH 275 also may belong to this episode: ἅλματος Ἰνώιοιο μεμηνότος ὅστις ἀπευθής (“who is there who is ignorant of the maddened leap of Ino?”).62 If this placement is correct, the line would fall most sensibly near the episode’s beginning and would broadcast the apparent fame of the forthcoming tale. The few indications we have suggest that Callimachus is poised to tell the well-attested story of the mother and son. According to the standard version, after Ino’s leap into the sea with Melicertes, the two were transformed into the marine deities Leucothea and Palaemon, while the mortal body of Melicertes was carried to Corinth.63 The expected aition of this account would be that of the Isthmian Games, which in the traditional account were subsequently founded in honor of Melicertes / Palaemon.64 As the latter two books of the Aetia have already provided prominently-placed aetiological stories for or related to the other three Panhellenic Games, the reader is encouraged and conditioned to expect this tale.65 The introductory phrasing of the aetion, such as it is, and SH 275 together insinuate the imminent conclusion of the poet’s treatment of the Games.

29The diegete’s summary reveals that such expectations are in vain. Though Callimachus does narrate the leap of Ino with Melicertes, he proceeds to tell a different story, in which Melicertes’ body crossed the Aegean and washed up on Tenedos, where it led to the establishment of a grisly local ritual involving child sacrifice (fr. 92a). With this tale the poet not only passes over the Isthmian Games, but he also implicitly invalidates the conventional history of their foundation. Instead, as with the genealogy of the Charites, traditional mytho-history is here contradicted by a local source. The two damaged lines from the episode’s conclusion provide one of the two specific source citations in the Aetia, and disclose that the poet’s source was the Milesian historian Leandrius (fr. 92.2–3):

   ση..[.]τ̣[...]φ̣[          Λε]α̣νδρίδες εἴ τι παλαιαὶ
φθ̣[έγγ]ο̣νται̣[             ]υ̣φαν ἱστορίαι

. . . if the ancient Leandrian histories utter something

  • 66 Ibid., p. 723.
  • 67 Ibid., p. 727–28, with examples of similar doubts about the veracity of sources in poetic texts. Ca (...)

30Harder observes that the source citation may appear as a result of the poet’s obvious departure from convention.66 In this sense, the citation carries with it a claim to authority, but it also disassociates Callimachus from the material and shields him from potential criticism in a way reminiscent of Hymn 5.56, μῦθος δ᾽ οὐκ ἐμός, ἀλλ᾽ ἑτέρων, “the tale is not mine, but others’.” Indeed, the conditional phrasing εἴ τι . . . φθ̣[έγγ]ο̣νται̣ suggests that he is not entirely confident in his material.67 Certainty is impossible, given the state of the fragment, but the apparent skepticism in Callimachus’ citation may betray uneasiness—real or affected—with Leandrius or his information. Perhaps we may read such doubts as a dramatized reflection of the difficulties faced by a poet when there are no Muses present to testify to the validity of a tale.

  • 68 Ibid., p. 727–28 on the connotations of this term; she observes the “neutrality” of παλαιαί in this (...)
  • 69 Lycophron, likely following either Leandrius or Callimachus, also seems to allude to it at 229, wit (...)
  • 70 Although an early Hellenistic date is generally agreed upon for Leandrius, there is still debate ov (...)

31Despite his apparent doubts, Callimachus nonetheless includes this unconventional version in the Aetia, and he bolsters its authenticity by describing Leandrius’ history as παλαιαί, “ancient.”68 This variant tradition of Melicertes could perhaps be able to boast of its age; there is no way to date the story, as this fragment is our first witness for it.69 However, Leandrius’ local history of Miletus, published in the early decades of the Hellenistic period and thus roughly contemporary to Callimachus, is itself far from ancient.70 Callimachus’ characterization of this modern work as παλαιαί is blatantly inaccurate, but it is inaccuracy with a purpose. By applying παλαιαί to the modern history of Leandrius, and not to the traditions that his history contained, the poet eliminates the temporal distance between the historian and the contents of his history. The modern source for this (allegedly) old tale here assumes the same ancient pedigree as the stories his history recounts. Callimachus’ fusion of the dates of his source and its subject matter has a similar effect as his authorization of the Argolica’s genealogy of the Charites through the Muses. Both strategies seek to validate “new” accounts of antiquity by representing them as naturally situated in the ancient tradition. Moreover, the stress that Callimachus places upon the “antiquity” of Leandrius is particularly pointed. As phrased, the “ancient Leandrian histories” have ostensibly been contradicting the standard story of Melicertes and the Isthmian Games for a very long time. Their emphatic antiquity seems to be directed at Callimachus’ readers, who have been led by the inclusion of aetia concerned with the three other Panhellenic Games to anticipate a different tale. Rather than provide the expected account, Callimachus reveals to them an alternative version of the ancient past of which they were presumably unaware, and compels his readers to reevaluate their own knowledge of their mytho-historical past. Indeed, if SH 275 does belong to the aetion, the entire episode could be a playful moment. It is as if the poet answers his rhetorical question, “who is there who is ignorant of Ino’s maddened leap?” by showing his readers that it is they who are unaware of the “true” ancient history of her leap and its aftermath.

32Callimachus’ more famous direct source citation is his attribution of the tale of Acontius and Cydippe to the local Cean historian Xenomedes. His age and ancientness are also emphasized before, within, and after the poet’s extended summary of the contents of his work, though here we see none of the unease that marked the citation of Leandrius (fr. 75.53–77):

   Κεῖε, τεὸν δ᾽ ἡμεῖς ἵμερον ἐκλύομεν
τόνδε παρ᾽ ἀρχαίου Ξενομήδεος, ὅς ποτε πᾶσαν
   νῆσον ἐνὶ μνήμῃ κάτθετο μυθολόγῳ,
ἄρχμενος ὡς νύμφῃσι[ν ἐ]ναίετο Κωρυκίῃσιν,
   τὰς ἀπὸ Παρνησσοῦ λῖς ἐδίωξε μέγας,
(Ὑδροῦσσαν τῷ καί μιν ἐφήμισαν), ὥ̣ς τε Κυ̣ρή̣[νης
   .... θ̣υσ̣[.]τ̣ο̣.. ὤικεεν ἐν Καρύαις·
ὥ]ς τέ μιν ἐννάσσαντο τέων Ἀλαλάξιος αἰεί
   Ζεὺς ἐπὶ σαλπίγγων ἱρὰ βοῇ δέχεται
Κᾶρες ὁμοῦ Λελέγεσσι, μ̣ε̣τ̣᾽ οὔνομα δ᾽ ἄλλο βαλ̣έσ̣θ̣[αι
   Φοίβου καὶ Μελίης ἶνις ἔθηκε Κέως·
ἐν δ᾽ ὕβριν θάνατόν τε κεραύνιον, ἐν δὲ γόητας
   Τελχῖνας μακάρων τ᾽ οὐκ ἀλέγοντα θεῶν
ἠλεὰ Δημώνακτα γέρων ἐνεθήκατο δέλτ[οις
   καὶ γρηῢν Μακελώ, μητέρα Δεξιθέης,
ἃς μούνας, ὅτε νῆσον ἀνέτρεπον εἵνεκ᾽ ἀλ̣[ι]τ̣[ρῆς
   ὕβριος, ἀσκηθεῖς ἔλλιπον ἀθάνατοι·
   τέσσαρας ὥς τε πόληας ὁ μὲν τείχισσε Με̣γ̣α̣κ̣λ̣ῆ̣ς
   Κάρθαιαν, Χρυσοῦς δ᾽ Εὔπ[υ]λος ἡμιθέης
εὔκρηνον πτολίεθρον Ἰουλίδος, αὐτὰρ Ἀ̣κα̣ῖ̣ο̣ς
   Ποιῆσσαν Χαρίτων ἵ̣δ̣ρ̣υμ᾽ ἐυπλοκάμων,
ἄστυρον Ἄφραστος δὲ Κορή[σ]ιον, εἶπε δ̣έ̣, Κ̣ε̣ῖ̣ε̣,
   ξυγκραθέντ᾽ αὐταῖς ὀξὺν ἔρωτα σέθεν
πρέσβυς ἐτητυμίῃ μεμελημένος, ἔ̣ν̣θεν̣ ὁ π̣α̣ιδ̣ός
   μῦθος ἐς ἡμετέρην ἔδραμε Καλλιόπην.

  • 71 For the meaning of μνήμῃ . . . μυθολόγῳ, see M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 635–36, who notes (...)

And this love of yours, Cean, we heard from old Xenomedes, who once set down all the island in a mytho-historical record,71 beginning with how it was inhabited by Corcyrean nymphs, whom a great lion had driven away from Parnassus (because of this they also called the island Hydrussa), and then [telling] how (the son?) of Cyrene dwelt in Caryae; how Carians and Leleges together settled in the country, whose offerings Zeus Alalaxius always receives to the sound of trumpets, and how Ceos, the son of Phoebus and Melia, caused the island to take another name. In his wax tablets the old man [Xenomedes] put hubris and lightning death, and wizard Telchines, and Demonax, who foolishly disregarded the blessed gods, and old Macelo, mother of Dexithea, the only two people the gods left unscathed when they overthrew the island for its sinful hubris. And (he wrote) how, of the island’s four towns, Megacles built Carthaea, and Eupylus, son of the demi-goddess Chryso, [built] the fair-fountained city of Iulis, and Acaeus [built] Poeessa, seat of the fair-tressed Charites, and how Aphrastus [built] the city of Coresus. And blended with these, O Cean [Acontius], that old man Xenomedes, lover of truth, told of your sharp love. From this source the maiden’s story ran to our Calliope.

  • 72 The traditional interpretation of the source citation is that it is used to authorize Callimachus’ (...)
  • 73 M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 634–35. O. Nikitinski, Kallimachos-Studien, Frankfurt am Main, (...)
  • 74 His floruit is based on the evidence of Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Thuc. 5.15); cf. G. Huxley, “Xe (...)
  • 75 On this fictive line of transmission and Callimachus’ representation of Xenomedes as a (possible) r (...)
  • 76 N. Krevans, “Callimachus and the Pedestrian Muse,” in M. A. Harder, R. F. Regtuit, G. C. Wakker (ed (...)
  • 77 Ibid., p. 181, though she does not specifically note the ways in which the stories of the Aetia are (...)

33As he did with Leandrius’ παλαιαὶ ἱστορίαι, Callimachus stresses the old age of his source. Xenomedes is ἀρχαίος (54), a γέρων (66), and a πρέσβυς who is “a lover of truth” (76). These descriptions bolster the credibility of the Cean history, and thus in turn authenticate Callimachus’ own account of Acontius and Cydippe.72 But Xenomedes is not simply an “old man.” Callimachus’ initial characterization of him as ἀρχαίος (54) notionally situates the chronicler within “the mythical past of Acontius.”73 The distance between historian and historical events is eliminated, just as it was in the case of Leandrius. Once again, the poet’s dating of his source is disingenuous. Xenomedes, active in the middle of the fifth century, was certainly not the poet’s contemporary.74 It is nevertheless obvious hyperbole to describe him as ἀρχαῖος. The exaggeration of Xenomedes’ antiquity is brought to its full effect in the final lines of the episode when Callimachus traces a fictive line of transmission in which ancient Xenomedes serves as the source of the Muse’s own knowledge of Cean history (76–77).75 Yet, as Nita Krevans has shown, the poet’s description of Xenomedes is more than a ploy to reinforce the veracity of his account. In her analysis, ἀρχαῖος Xenomedes achieves “the full rank of poetic authority” and a programmatic status reflective of Callimachus’ polyeideia akin to that of Hesiod in the Aetia and Aesop, Ion of Chios, and Hipponax in the Iambi.76 The summary is thus not simply a versified footnote; rather, as Krevans observes, it features topics similar to stories in the Aetia, which “forces the readers of the poem to see Xenomedes as a version of Callimachus.”77

  • 78 As formulated and discussed by M. A. Harder, “The Invention of Past, Present and Future in Callimac (...)
  • 79 N. Krevans, “Callimachus and the Pedestrian Muse,” in M. A. Harder, R. F. Regtuit, G. C. Wakker (ed (...)
  • 80 On this possibility, see M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 646.
  • 81 Ibid., p. 672–73, summarizes both the similarities and the differences between the two stories.
  • 82 Grammatically, the city foundations must be the antecedent to αὐταῖς, but, as the concluding moment (...)

34However, the reverse of this is also true: Callimachus represents himself as following the model of ancient Xenomedes in terms of his approach to historical subject matter. Krevans’ general observation that the stories and topics in the Aetia are analogous to those contained in the poet’s summary of the Cean chronicle merits further discussion, especially because the summary tends to be read in terms of how it reflects the differences between the two authors, and not the similarities. The selective summary highlights several mythical and historical moments that coincide with elements found throughout the Aetia. Three of the most common types of episodes in the poem are those that present unusual local rituals, narrate punishments for crimes (especially those against hospitality), and represent expansion through colonization and city foundation.78 Each of these episode types prominently appear in Callimachus’ summary of Xenomedes’ history of Ceos. The sacrifices of the Carians and Leleges to Zeus Alalaxius, accompanied by the sound of trumpets (60–62), correspond in their singularity to such distinctive local rituals as those on Paros (fr. 3–7b), at Anaphe (fr. 7c–21d), at Lindus (fr. 22–23c), and on Tenedos (fr. 91–92a). While Xenomedes’ Cean Telchines (65) naturally evoke the “other” Telchines in the Prologue (fr. 1.1),79 their hubris and punishment (64–69), possibly for crimes against hospitality,80 also recall Busiris (fr. 44) and perhaps Ajax (fr. 35), among others. The destruction of nearly the entire population of Ceos coincides with the plague sent by Apollo against Argos in the story of Linus and Coroebus (fr. 26). There are multiple parallels to the early colonization of Ceos (62–63) and the later foundation of the Cean Tetrapolis (70–74), particularly the foundations and settlements that resulted from the Argonautic expedition (Polae, fr. 11, Corcyrean settlements, fr. 12), the foundation of Tripodiscus (fr. 31), and the catalogue of Sicilian cities (fr. 43). Other interests reflected in the Aetia, such as the original names of places and the changing of these names, also appear here as Cean civilization advances (58, 62–63). Even the one story both historian and poet share, that of Acontius and Cydippe, is matched in the Aetia by the story of Phrygius and Pieria (fr. 80–83b).81 The final connection is especially telling. As he concludes the summary, Callimachus remarks that, “mixed with these . . . that old man told of your sharp love” (εἶπε δ̣έ . . . ξυγκραθέντ᾽ αὐταῖς ὀξὺν ἔρωτα σέθεν πρέσβυς, 75–76). The story of Acontius and Cydippe is the only one of all those included in the summary that the poet chooses to retell, yet, in his retelling of it, Callimachus “mixes” Acontius’ love with precisely the same sorts of stories as Xenomedes once did.82 It is true that the poet does not provide the aetia for any of the elements contained in his summary, but he does not need to do so for the cumulative effect of the passage to be complete. Callimachus’ selective summary highlights the topical similarities between the Cean chronicle and the Aetia, and by so doing it aligns Callimachus’ perspective on the preferred content of “poetic history” with Xenomedes’ own approach to chronicling local history. Read against Callimachus’ representation of the Cean chronicle, the historical and topical dimensions of the Aetia follow in Xenomedes’ “ancient” tracks.

  • 83 Ibid., p. 66, note that Callimachus is stressing this time gap.
  • 84 Chief among these differences are :
    1. selectivity: Callimachus presents Xenomedes as treating the e (...)
  • 85 On the internal and external drives of Greek history (including local history) and “intentional his (...)
  • 86 The Aetia as a poem that works to create this sort of shared and homogenized Greek identity, an ide (...)
  • 87 For the political and Ptolemaic aspects of this unified identity, see M. Asper, “Callimachean Geopo (...)
  • 88 Cf. ibid., p. 175 on the role of parallel tales in the Aetia.

35Although the poet elevates Xenomedes and his history to programmatic status, he is no more bound to his local historical model than he was to that of Hesiod in the first two books of the poem. As he rejuvenated Hesiod, so too does he rejuvenate and modernize Xenomedes’ approach to local history and, by extension, local historiography in general. The effect of Callimachus’ rhetorical antiquation of his model is twofold. First, it provides an implicit contrast to the newness of the poet’s own modern approach to local history, as Callimachus distances himself from ἀρχαῖος Xenomedes by emphasizing the span of time that separates them.83 Among the many differences between the poet, the historian, and their texts,84 the difference in the magnitude of each work’s scope is especially critical for my purposes. The Cean chronicle, as presented by Callimachus, was restricted in its subject matter to those events that occurred on or pertained to Ceos. The historian’s insular perspective is a conventional feature of fourth and third century local histories, as they sought to define their internal civic and cultural identity, and to advocate externally for the particular significance of their city or region.85 What Xenomedes did for Ceos, Callimachus does for the Greek world. In the Aetia, Callimachus selectively treats the entirety of the oikoumene, and uses stories from disparate areas that nonetheless share similar themes or elements to create and articulate a new, shared notion of “Greekness” that is independent from the more restricted polis‑ and region-based identities.86 Yet the stories Callimachus includes in order to fashion this new identity are regularly drawn from local historical sources. Their original function as building blocks in the construction of a city’s exclusive civic identity is not annulled by the poet, but redirected and amplified in concert with other such stories, so as to develop a modern and inclusive Panhellenic identity suited to a more global Ptolemaic context.87 We may thus view the Aetia as a local history of the Ptolemaic oikoumene, crafted from the mytho-historical and historical minutiae which in sources like Xenomedes’ Cean history are directed at differentiating, rather than uniting, the various Greek peoples.88

  • 89 Based on fr. 60c9, it seems Callimachus presented Heracles’ defeat of the Nemean lion as an aetion (...)
  • 90 For the possibility that Callimachus derived Molorchus from Agias and Dercylus’ Argolica, see A. Am (...)
  • 91 See B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, op. cit., p. 170–96, for discussion of the various local appeara (...)
  • 92 E.g. fr. 31c–31g (Artemis at Leucas), fr. 100–100a (Ancient Statue of Hera of Samos), fr. 101–101b (...)
  • 93 Many thanks to Jim Clauss, Margaret Healy-Varley, and N. M. Lavoie for their invaluable advice and (...)

36The second effect of Callimachus’ antiquation of Xenomedes, as well as the other local historians, is related to the nature of the Panhellenic identity he is creating. Asper, Acosta-Hughes, and Stephens all observe the “Panhellenic” impact of Callimachus’ collection and organization of stories largely drawn from local histories, an impact that is gradually discerned rather than immediately felt. As part of the development of this locally-based Panhellenism, mytho-historical elements and stories that had long served as representatives of traditional Panhellenism are enfolded into local tales. For example, all three of Callimachus’ aetia connected to the Panhellenic Games are focused on their local aspects. The origin of the Olympics is included in an episode that centers on the nuptial rites of the Eleans (fr. 76b–77d). Likewise, the Pythian games are in the background of the tale that recounts Apollo’s defeat of the Python as the aetion of the local Delphic Daphnephoria (fr. 86–89). Heracles’ triumph over the Nemean lion, an aetion of the Nemean Games,89 is joined to the local story of Molorchus (fr. 54b–54i).90 In similar fashion are the more global exploits of the Argonauts reconfigured into local aetia, and the international scope of Minos’ thalassocracy is evoked as it relates to its localized effects.91 Even the gods often appear in their local incarnations, as we see, for example, in the aetia of various statues.92 Callimachus’ method for constructing Greek identity and crafting his local history of the world often entails the subordination of traditional Panhellenic mytho-history to local perspectives of the past. The newness of his approach explains the antiquation of his local sources and local material. In stressing their ancientness or presenting them as timeless, Callimachus impresses upon his readers that the cultural connections created by these and other “new” historical moments in the Aetia have always existed, no matter how unfamiliar they may be. It matters little if this impression is a fiction and some of the poet’s “new” moments are in fact modern historical inventions. Callimachus’ presentation rhetorically anchors his “new” historical sources, material, and their links to each other as firmly to the ancient past as the more conventional and familiar Panhellenic moments that they augment, reorient, or displace. Callimachus, like the local historians themselves, reveals “new” ancient history, but he ensures that its newness does not eclipse its antiquity.93

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Notes

1 Throughout I shall employ the loose term “local histories,” as the works’ fragmentary states often render it difficult to distinguish, for example, between chronicles, works with a more “antiquarian” bent, archaeologica, and so on. Even works about which we know a fair amount regularly include elements indicative of multiple subgenres. For the purposes of this study, these distinctions matter little; I am concerned with their focus on the local. My approach to local histories is influenced generally by the views of J. Marincola, “Genre, Convention, and Innovation in Greco-Roman Historiography,” in C. S. Kraus (ed.), The Limits of Historiography. Genre and Narrative in Ancient Historical Texts, Leiden, Brill, 1999, p. 281–324, and K. Clarke, Making Time for the Past. Local History and the Polis, Oxford, OUP, 2008, esp. p. 313–54; she also provides an essential survey of the “history of local historiography” at p. 175–93.

2 This is the combination and reconstruction of the first three lines, based in part on the information of Michael Choniates, proposed by A. S. Hollis, “The Beginning of Callimachus’ Hecale,” ZPE 115, 1997, p. 55–56. I use the Greek edition and fragment numeration of A. S. Hollis (ed.), Callimachus. Hecale, 2nd ed., Oxford, OUP, 2009, for all other quotations from the poem.

3 M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, Tradition and Innovation in Hellenistic Poetry, Cambridge, CUP, 2004, p. 199.

4 Marm. Par. 1: . . . Κέκροψ Ἀθηνῶν ἐβασίλευσε, καὶ ἡ χώρα Κεκροπία ἐκλήθη τὸ πρότερον καλουμένη Ἀκτικὴ ἀπὸ Ἀκταίου τοῦ αὐτόχθονος . . . On the Marble’s Atthidographic source, see F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 328 F 92, p. 388–89.

5 For Philochorus’ rejection of Actaeus, see P. Harding, The Story of Athens. The Fragments of the Local Chronicles of Attika, London, Routledge, 2008, p. 18–20. For the presumed polemical passage, Philochorus’ etymologizing, and possible early names of Attica provided by Philochorus, see F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 328 F 92, p. 387–89, and ad 328 F 94 and 95, p. 398–400. The phrasing of Georgios Synkellos’ reference to Philochorus (= 328 F 92) suggests, but does not confirm, that Philochorus preferred Ἀκτή. Prior to Philochorus’ possible use of the term, Ἀκτή appears in Hyperides, fr. 185.1, and Euripides, Hel. 1673, though both seem to refer to the coastal region of Attica and not Attica itself.

6 On Philochorus as Callimachus’ source, for which Plutarch, Thes. 14 is our primary witness, see F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 328 F 109, p. 435; A. S. Hollis (ed.), op. cit., p. 3–4. On the unresolved issue of which work likely contained the tale of Hecale, see F. Jacoby, Atthis. The Local Chronicles of Ancient Athens, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1949, p. 128; F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 328 F 109, p. 435–36; A. S. Hollis (ed.), op. cit., p. 5–6; G. Benedetto, “Callimachus and the Atthidographers,” in B. Acosta-Hughes, L. Lehnus, S. Stephens (eds.), Brill’s Companion to Callimachus, Leiden, Brill, 2011, p. 349–67, at p. 364.

7 F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 328, p. 241–44.

8 A. S. Hollis (ed.), op. cit., p. 3–4.

9 I. Kapp, Callimachi Hecalae Fragmenta, Ph.D., Berlin, 1915, p. 10.

10 Cf. A. S. Hollis (ed.), op. cit., p. 425, where he notes that “we rather expect an early mention of Hecale’s name,” with expressions of similar feelings from West.

11 The line was identified as a variation on this motif by M. A. Harder, “Callimachus,” in I. J. F. de Jong, R. Nünlist, A. Bowie (eds.), Narrators, Narratees, and Narratives in Ancient Greek Literature, Leiden, Brill, 2004, p. 63–81, at p. 72. On the motif and for a full list of examples, see I. J. F. de Jong, A Narratological Commentary on the Odyssey, Cambridge, CUP, 2001, p. 83. If Hecale’s name were to appear in the first lines, this would not affect the impact of the Homeric phrasing, as nearly all examples of the motif include the unfamiliar character’s name.

12 On the work’s relationship with Homer, see especially M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, op. cit., p. 249–55. For discussion of Homeric echoes and the relationship between Hecale and the Victoria Berenices, see A. Ambühl, “Entertaining Theseus and Heracles: The Hecale and the Victoria Berenices as a Diptych,” in M. A. Harder, R. F. Regtuit, G. C. Wakker (eds.), Callimachus, II, Leuven, Peeters, 2004, p. 23–47. For consideration of Hecale’s relationship to tragic (and epic) heroines, particularly Hecuba, see G. O. Hutchinson, Hellenistic Poetry, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1988, p. 57–59; M. Giuseppetti, “Ecale, un’eroina tra epos e tragedia,” QUCC 88.1, 2008, p. 39–56. On the relationship between heroic and tragic elements in the Hecale and Callimachus’ contemporary environment, see B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, Callimachus in Context. From Plato to the Augustan Poets, Cambridge, CUP, 2012, p. 196–202.

13 E. Kearns, The Heroes of Attica, London, Institute of Classical Studies, 1989, p. 95, cf. p. 92 and p. 121.

14 F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 328 F 109, p. 435–37. The fragmentary state of the Atthidographers forbids the absolute statement that Philochorus was the first of them to write about Hecale. However, given what we know of Philochorus as the first Atthidographer to direct his “antiquarian” interest towards the local traditions of the demes, I find Jacoby’s view that Philochorus is responsible for introducing Hecale into written history a safe assumption. Jacoby, moreover, doubts the antiquity of the tale of Hecale and Theseus and posits that, “when the legend of Theseus had been quickly developed and quickly became famous, the local λόγιοι of the fifth century may have connected their Hekale with the hero, thus securing for their village a place in the history of Athens.”

15 See C. McNelis, “Mourning Glory: Callimachus’ Hecale and Heroic Honors,” MD 50, 2003, p. 155–61, who provides discussion of Hecale as the poem’s focal point and her prominent placement at its conclusion.

16 G. O. Hutchinson, Hellenistic Poetry, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1988, p. 62–63, suggests that, after Hecale’s tale of her sorrows, Theseus provided an account of his defeat of Cercyon. Cf. M. Giuseppetti, art. cit., p. 39–56, for the tragic elements of this scene.

17 On which see N. Loraux, The Children of Athena. Athenian Ideas about Citizenship and the Division between the Sexes, Princeton, PUP, 1993, p. 277.

18 I. Gildenhard, A. Zissos, “Ovid’s Hecale: Deconstructing Athens in the Metamorphoses,” JRS 94, 2004, p. 47–72, at p. 51, though they rightly note that this is at once nostalgic and humorous.

19 Both B. Gentili, “Review: The Oxyrhynchus papyri, part 25,” Gnomon 33, 1961, p. 331–44, at p. 342, and A. S. Hollis, op. cit., p. 225, suggest and interpret this chronology of events.

20 Cf. B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, op. cit., p. 202, for remarks on the poem’s marginalization of “the values of both epic and the male Athenian citizen by foregrounding the quiet heroism of the old woman,” while also affirming the value of hospitality in the post-Alexander world.

21 Cf. A. S. Hollis (ed.), op. cit., p. 242, who shows that the narrating crow and the crow in the narrative are the same bird.

22 See ibid., p. 226–32, where he also notes Callimachus’ possible divergence from Amelesagoras with regard to the culpability of Herse. Hollis provides additional discussion of other versions of these tales. G. Benedetto, art. cit., passim, offers an excellent overview of nineteenth and twentieth century scholarship on Amelesagoras, his account, and the Hecale.

23 F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 330 F 1, p. 602.

24 Ibid., p. 602–3.

25 Ibid., p. 603. He notes that both narratives share the same basic storyline: a bird brings a god undesirable news and the god in turn punishes the bird. Cf. A. S. Hollis (ed.), op. cit., p. 252.

26 See I. Gildenhard, A. Zissos, art. cit., p. 51 n. 26 on this “studied intertextual gesture.”

27 F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 330, p. 598–99. If the distinction made by Maximus between a learned art and divine inspiration does accurately reflect a distinction made by Amelesagoras, it is not difficult to imagine Callimachus’ potential interest in the passage, as he famously considers the same issues in the Aetia Prologue.

28 The tradition of the Attic Thriai and their role in divination is a vexed one, consisting of several different elements that are difficult to connect, date, and verify. See F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 328 F 195, p. 559–61 for discussion.

29 G. Benedetto, art. cit., passim, provides an overview and discussion of other Atthidographic elements found in both the Hecale and the Aetia.

30 I use the edition and fragment numeration of M. A. Harder (ed.), Callimachus. Aetia, Oxford, OUP, 2012, 2 vols.

31 M. Asper, “Callimachean Geopoetics and the Ptolemaic Empire,” in B. Acosta-Hughes, L. Lehnus, S. Stephens (eds.), op. cit., p. 155–77, at p. 170, observes the geopoetic dimension of the scene, in which “geographic diversity provides the background against which ethnic unity is celebrated.” On the Homeric and Odyssean elements in the scene, see M. A. Harder, “Intertextuality in Callimachus’ Aetia,” in L. Lehnus, A. S. Hollis, F. Montanari (eds.), Callimaque, Vandœuvres, Geneva, Fondation Hardt, 2002, p. 212–17; E. Dettori, “Appunti sul ‘Banchetto di Pollis’ (Call. fr. 178 Pf),” in R. Pretagostini, E. Dettori (eds.), La cultura ellenistica. L’opera letteraria e l’esegesi antica. Atti del convegno COFIN 2001, Università di Roma “Tor Vergata”, 22-24 settembre 2003, Roma, Quasar, 2004, p. 33–63. For the use of sympotic models, Homeric intertexts, and their relationship to Callimachus’ program, see M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, op. cit., p. 76–83. See B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, op. cit., p. 72–78 on the scene’s interaction with Platonic dialogues and principles.

32 On the festivals, see R. Scodel, “Wine, Water, and the Anthesteria in Callimachus fr. 178 Pf,” ZPE 39, 1980, p. 37–40; N. Robertson, “Athens’ Festival of the New Wine,” HSPh 95, 1993, p. 197–250.

33 Euripides: χῶρός Ἀτθίδος (IT 1450); γῆς Ἀτθίδος (Ion 13); πύργος Ἀτθίδος (Phoen. 1706); Παλλάδος Ἀτθίδος (IT 223); Ἀτθίδας ναῦς (IA 247). Also Python, fr. 1.9: Ἀτθίδα χθόνα; cf. Apollonius Rhodius, Argon. 1.93: ἐν Ἀτθίδι νήσῳ.

34 E.g. Dionysius Halicarnassensis, Amm. 9.5: ὡς δηλοῖ Φιλόχορος ἐν ἕκτῃ βύβλῳ τῆς Ἀτθίδος. So far as I am able to tell, Dionysius provides the earliest datable references to the genre in a source citation, but there is a lack of extant prose sources between the fourth and first centuries. Dionysius’ citations of the Atthides are natural in tone and do not call attention to the term, suggesting that Ἀτθίς had been normalized as the generic title for some time.

35 F. Jacoby, Atthis, op. cit., p. 85, suggests that Callimachus took the term from the title of Amelesagoras’ work. V. Costa, Filocoro di Atene. I, Testimonianze e frammenti dell’“Atthis”, 2nd ed., Tivoli, Tored, 2007, p. 13–14, makes the more attractive argument that Callimachus was instead inspired by the title of Philochorus’ Attic chronicle.

36 See R. Pfeiffer, Kallimachosstudien. Untersuchungen zur „Arsinoe‟ und zu den „Aitia‟ des Kallimachos, München, M. Hueber, 1922, p. 105–7 on the various treatments of Erigone’s story.

37 On this usage of καινὸς, see E. Dettori, “Appunti sul ‘Banchetto di Pollis’ (Call. fr. 178 Pf),” in R. Pretagostini, E. Dettori (eds.), op. cit., p. 53–54.

38 A. Cameron, Callimachus and His Critics, Princeton, PUP, 1995, p. 136–37.

39 M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 969.

40 B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, op. cit., p. 77, connect this Pollis to the Pollis to whom Plato was sold into slavery as part of the scene’s larger interaction with the Laws. C. Kaesser, “The Poet and the ‘Polis,’” in M. Horster, C. Reitz (eds.), Wissensvermittlung in dichterischer Gestalt, Stuttgart, F. Steiner, 2005, p. 95–114, at p. 101 instead offers the suggestion of Denis Feeney, that “Pollis’ name was surely chosen for its similarity to polis.” Contrast A. Cameron, op. cit., p. 134, who interprets Pollis to be a real person known to Callimachus.

41 A. D. Morrison, The Narrator in Archaic Greek and Hellenistic Poetry, Cambridge, CUP, 2007, p. 187. On oral and written sources in Callimachus’ poetry, see J. S. Bruss, “Lessons from Ceos: Written and Spoken Word in Callimachus,” in M. A. Harder, R. F. Regtuit, G. C. Wakker (eds.), op. cit., p. 49–70.

42 L. Malten, “Ein neues Bruchstück aus den Aitia des Kallimachos,” Hermes 53, 1918, p. 147–79, at p. 171.

43 Among those who clearly support the Iciaca as Callimachus’ source are: F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 325 T 7, p. 175; P. M. Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, I, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1972, p. 732; K. Fabian (ed.), Callimaco. Aitia II, Alessandria, Ed. dell’Orso, 1992, p. 322–23. Others observe the likelihood or possibility, but are more cautious: L. Pearson, The Local Histories of Attica, Chico, Scholars Press, 1981 [19421], p. 72; G. B. D’Alessio (ed.), Callimaco, II, Milan, BUR, 1996, p. 560 n. 23; G. Massimilla (ed.), Callimaco. Aitia. Libri primo e secondo, Pisa, Giardini, 1996, p. 401 and p. 415; M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, op. cit., p. 82; M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 954. R. Pfeiffer (ed.), Callimachus. I, Fragmenta, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1949, ad 178.27 suggests that Callimachus is referring to tales told by sailors. M. Asper (ed.), Kallimachos. Werke, Darmstadt, Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2004, p. 191, reads 178.27 as a reference to authorities who were probably not mentioned and are not meant to be known. See G. Benedetto, art. cit., p. 362–63 for useful discussion of the history of the source attribution.

44 Reading the Ician as an anthropomorphized text also may add to the significance of the Odyssean overtones in Theogenes’ lament for his life spent at sea (178.32–34). Others have observed that the wandering Ician is analogous to Odysseus. Understood as a text, the Ician’s wanderings could represent the transmission of the Iciaca throughout the Mediterranean world as, Odysseus-like, the text tells the stories it contains to those who read it. In turn, it is through texts that “wander” to Alexandria that Callimachus can become a new sort of Odysseus and experience the world without needing to leave the Library. On Callimachus as an Odysseus (of the Library), see M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, op. cit., p. 81–82; B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, op. cit., p. 145. As all observe, “Callimachus as Odysseus” is particularly evoked in the catalogue of Sicilian cities (fr. 43.28–53), for which this sympotic scene may be a prelude. A growing scholarly consensus believes fr. 178 should be placed before fr. 43, following the suggestion of A. Swiderek, “La structure des Aitia de Callimaque à la lumière des nouvelles découvertes papyrologiques,” JJP 5, 1951, p. 229–35. For summary discussion of various opinions on this placement, see G. Massimilla (ed.), Callimaco. Aitia. Libri primo e secondo, op. cit., p. 400–1; M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 956–57.

45 On the Callimachean narrator’s “desire to hear” and Homeric precedents, see D. Meyer, “‘Nichts Unbezeugtes singe ich’: Die fictive Darstellung der Wissenschaftstradierung bei Kallimachos,” in W. Kullmann, J. Althoff (eds.), Vermittlung und Tradierung von Wissen in der griechischen Kultur, Tübingen, G. Narr, 1993, p. 317–36.

46 M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, op. cit., p. 83. Their evaluation is focused on Pollis’ non-selective mimetic reenactment of the Athenian festivals as compared to Callimachus’ more selective mimesis, not on Callimachus’ sources for the section.

47 M. Asper, “Callimachean Geopoetics and the Ptolemaic Empire,” art. cit., p. 170; cf. B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, op. cit., p. 77 and p. 144.

48 It is entirely possible that Phanodemus’ Atthis is Callimachus’ source for the festivals (or one of his sources), as the Atthidographer’s interest in the antiquarian origins of Attic festivals is well-documented in his fragments. He treated the Choes (FGrH 325 F11), and one fragment refers to the Pithoigia (FGrH 325 F 12). R. Pfeiffer, Kallimachosstudien, op. cit., p. 105–7, also mentions his treatment of Erigone. Cf. R. Scodel, “Wine, Water, and the Anthesteria in Callimachus fr. 178 Pf,” ZPE 39, 1980, p. 40, who tentatively observes Phanodemus may be the poet’s source. If Phanodemus is Callimachus’ source for both the Attic and the Ician information, the contrast between the “old” Atthides and “new” perspective of the Iciaca is made even more poignant.

49 In this episode Callimachus likely (implicitly) connects the mythical background of the tale of Peleus on Icus with those of the Attic festivals, which all feature variations on the theme of hospitality. I find it unlikely that such a connection was made by Phanodemus. On the links between the Ician and Attic traditions that Callimachus may be evoking, see B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, op. cit., p. 144–45.

50 . . . τ(ὴν) δ᾽ ἱστορίαν ἔλαβεν π̣[(αρὰ) Ἀγίου] κ(αὶ) Δερκύλου, (ἐστὶ) κ(αὶ) π(αρὰ) Ἀριστοτέλει ἐ[ν] τῇ Παρίω[ν] πολειτεί[ᾳ], fr. 7a.15–16.

51 On Dercylus’ version, see F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 305 F 8, p. 18, and P. Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, II, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1972, p. 1010 n. 42. With regard to the form and date of (H)Agias’ work, Jacoby favored the theory that he wrote a prose history, perhaps dating from the first half of the fourth century. E. Schwartz, RE 5, 1905, p. 243, suggested that Agias’ Argolica was a hexametric poem; this idea was supported and supplemented by A. C. Cassio, “Storiografia locale di Argo e dorico letterario: Agia, Dercillo e il Pap. Soc. Ital. 1091,” RFIC 117, 1989, p. 257–75, esp. p. 272–75. Agias and Dercylus are cited by scholiasts as the source for the Linus and Coreobus episode (fr. 25e–31b) and the Argive Fountains (fr. 65–66). L. Lehnus, “Argo, Argolide e storiografia locale in Callimaco,” in P. Angeli Bernardini (ed.), La città di Argo, Mito, storia, tradizioni poetiche. Atti del Convegno internazionale, Urbino, 13-15 giugno 2002, Roma, Ed. dell’Ateneo, 2004, p. 201–9, provides discussion of each of these episodes and offers possible explanations for the Argolica’s unexpected treatment of a Parian cult.

52 Such phrases simulate traditional oral communication and act as smokescreens for the scholarly poet’s textual source(s). On “some say” and “it is said” statements in the Argonautica, see M. Cuypers, “Apollonius of Rhodes,” in I. J. F. de Jong, R. Nünlist, A. Bowie (eds.), op. cit., p. 43–62, at p. 50; Cf. A. D. Morrison, op. cit., p. 274–75. M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 126, also notes that Callimachus’ listing of possible genealogies evokes the hymnic practice of expressing aporia about the correct birthplace of gods.

53 E.g. Clio’s discourse on the invocation to the anonymous founders of Zancle (fr. 43.58–83). Although the poet clearly used an historical source for the section, it is not reflected in the Muse’s narrative.

54 On which see H. Reinsch-Werner, Callimachus Hesiodicus. Die Rezeption der hesiodischen Dichtung durch Kallimachos von Kyrene, Berlin, N. Mielke, 1976, p. 390.

55 M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, op. cit., p. 51–58, esp. p. 56–57. They provide the fundamental discussion of the aetion, the genealogy, and the relationship between Hesiod, ‘truth,’ and Callimachean aetiology.

56 Ibid., p. 75, commenting on Callimachus’ wish to rid himself of “old age” in the Prologue: “It is Callimachus who . . . makes the decisive move in understanding ‘rejuvenation’ in terms of the literary tradition.” I employ “rejuvenate” throughout based on their interpretation of old age as representative of tradition.

57 P. J. Parsons, “Callimachus: Victoria Berenices,” ZPE 25, 1977, p. 1–50, at p. 49–50, proposes that the Prologue was a later addition to the Aetia. M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., I, p. 2–8, provides an updated discussion of the various arguments for and against Parson’s proposal, ultimately favoring the theory that the Prologue was a later addition to a version of the poem that was itself purposefully reworked.

58 The hymnic elements in the episode may create the impression of a proemial hymn, as discussed by M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 118–19.

59 Compare the humorous presentation of Xenomedes as Calliope’s source at fr. 75.77.

60 In addition to Hesiod, Callimachus is also implicitly rejecting the genealogy provided by Pindar (Ol. 14.12–14) who only names Zeus as their father. On this and the sources for the other rejected genealogies, see M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 138. M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, op. cit., p. 57, note the rejected genealogies’ “Panhellenic” nature, which they relate to the poet’s juxtaposition of the Charites’ Panhellenic and local Parian cults. Political considerations may also be at play in the passage. G. Massimilla (ed.), Callimaco. Aitia. Libri primo e secondo, op. cit., p. 247, observes that the poet’s choice to use a genealogy that makes Dionysus the Charites’ father may relate to the Ptolemies’ claim that he was one of their ancestors.

61 On the phrasing, see M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 725–26. Βύνη occurs elsewhere in Hellenistic poetry (e.g. fr. 745), but does not appear in earlier poetry. The term’s derivation from δύνω is explained by Σ Lyc. 107.

62 G. Massimilla (ed.), Callimaco. Aitia. Libro terzo e quarto, Pisa, F. Serra, 2010, ad fr. 194, p. 428–29, with discussion; cf. M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 724.

63 Ibid., p. 728–30, provides the text of the Diegesis and ancient examples of the standard account.

64 See E. R. Gebhard, M. W. Dickie, “Melikertes-Palaimon, Hero of the Isthmian Games,” in R. Hägg (ed.), Ancient Greek Hero Cult. Proceedings of the Fifth International Seminar on Ancient Greek Cult, Stockholm, Svenska Institutet i Athen, p. 159–65 for discussion of Melicertes / Palaemon and the traditional history of the Games.

65 The Nemean Games in the ‘Victoria Berenices’ (fr. 54h–i), which begins the third book; the Olympics in the ‘Nuptial Rite at Elis’ (fr. 76b–77d); the Pythian Games in ‘The Delphic Daphnephoria’ (fr. 86–89a), which may begin the final book. On the placement of the frr. 86–89a, see M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 714–15.

66 Ibid., p. 723.

67 Ibid., p. 727–28, with examples of similar doubts about the veracity of sources in poetic texts. Callimachus, it should be noted, refers to the standard version at fr. 384.25 Pf, and calls Melicertes “Palaemon” at fr. 197.19 Pf and fr. 787 Pf.

68 Ibid., p. 727–28 on the connotations of this term; she observes the “neutrality” of παλαιαί in this context.

69 Lycophron, likely following either Leandrius or Callimachus, also seems to allude to it at 229, with Σ ad loc.

70 Although an early Hellenistic date is generally agreed upon for Leandrius, there is still debate over his identification with Maeandrius. See F. Jacoby, FGrH ad 491 and 492, p. 404–6, who was uncertain if the two were distinct; C. Wendel, “Leandrios,” Hermes 70, 1935, p. 356–60, saw a pronounced difference between the two; M. Polito, Milesiaka. I, Meandrio. Testimonianze e frammenti, Tivoli, Tored, 2009, p. 1–12, argues persuasively that they are the same individual, Maeandrius. Both Jacoby and Polito provide discussion of the Hellenistic dates of Leandrius / Maeandrius.

71 For the meaning of μνήμῃ . . . μυθολόγῳ, see M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 635–36, who notes that Herodotus is also called a μυθολόγος by Aristotle, “which suggests a broader interpretation which includes the historical period.” Thus “mythological” is likely too restrictive a term, especially given the contents and chronological ordering of Xenomedes’ Cean chronicle as presented by Callimachus.

72 The traditional interpretation of the source citation is that it is used to authorize Callimachus’ account, e.g. R. Pfeiffer, History of Classical Scholarship from the Beginnings to the End of the Hellenistic Age, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1968, p. 125; G. Zanker, Realism in Alexandrian Poetry, London, Croom Helm, 1987, p. 114. Moreover, the position of πρέσβυς opposite π̣α̣ιδ̣ός (and other juxtapositions of their ages throughout the episode) may mark the contrast between the old source, the young Acontius, and their “writings,” on which see G. O. Hutchinson, Talking Books. Readings in Hellenistic and Roman Books of Poetry, Oxford, OUP, 2008, p. 51.

73 M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 634–35. O. Nikitinski, Kallimachos-Studien, Frankfurt am Main, P. Lang, 1996, p. 157–69, demonstrates that Callimachus uses ἀρχαίος of the very ancient past.

74 His floruit is based on the evidence of Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Thuc. 5.15); cf. G. Huxley, “Xenomedes of Ceos,” GRBS 6, 1965, p. 235–45; R. Fowler, Early Greek Mythography, II, Oxford, OUP, 2013, p. 511–13.

75 On this fictive line of transmission and Callimachus’ representation of Xenomedes as a (possible) replacement for the Muses, see e.g. N. Krevans, “Callimachus and the Pedestrian Muse,” in M. A. Harder, R. F. Regtuit, G. C. Wakker (eds.), op. cit., p. 173–83, at p. 181; C. Kaesser, “The Poet and the ‘Polis,’” in M. Horster, C. Reitz (eds.), Wissensvermittlung in dichterischer Gestalt, Stuttgart, F. Steiner, 2005, p. 109; A. D. Morrison, op. cit., p. 196–97; G. O. Hutchinson, Talking Books. Readings in Hellenistic and Roman Books of Poetry, Oxford, OUP, 2008, p. 51. For similarities between the language used by the Muses and Callimachus’ description of Xenomedes’ work, see J. S. Bruss, “Lessons from Ceos: Written and Spoken Word in Callimachus,” in M. A. Harder, R. F. Regtuit, G. C. Wakker (eds.), op. cit., p. 54–56.

76 N. Krevans, “Callimachus and the Pedestrian Muse,” in M. A. Harder, R. F. Regtuit, G. C. Wakker (eds.), op. cit., p. 179–80.

77 Ibid., p. 181, though she does not specifically note the ways in which the stories of the Aetia are similar to those in Xenomedes’ history. Cf. M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 636, on the summary as a “reflection of Callimachus’ antiquarian interests.”

78 As formulated and discussed by M. A. Harder, “The Invention of Past, Present and Future in Callimachus’ Aetia,” Hermes 131, 2003, p. 290–306, esp. p. 299–302. The following examples of episode types, which I identify as analogous to Xenomedes’ material, were adduced by Harder.

79 N. Krevans, “Callimachus and the Pedestrian Muse,” in M. A. Harder, R. F. Regtuit, G. C. Wakker (eds.), op. cit., p. 179, suggests that Callimachus may here be revealing Xenomedes as the source for the Telchines in the Prologue; one of the few fragments attributed to Xenomedes (FGrH 442 F 3) etymologizes “Telchines,” as sorcerers, from the verb θέλγειν.

80 On this possibility, see M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 646.

81 Ibid., p. 672–73, summarizes both the similarities and the differences between the two stories.

82 Grammatically, the city foundations must be the antecedent to αὐταῖς, but, as the concluding moment of a long summary, the general effect of ξυγκραθέντ᾽ αὐταῖς is a comprehensive one. M. Fantuzzi, R. Hunter, op. cit., p. 65, interpret the line instead as Callimachus representing himself as “rescuing” the story of Acontius and Cydippe, which had been lying mixed up with “other potential stories” in Xenomedes’ work.

83 Ibid., p. 66, note that Callimachus is stressing this time gap.

84 Chief among these differences are :
1. selectivity: Callimachus presents Xenomedes as treating the entirety of Cean history (πᾶσαν νῆσον, 54–55) from its very beginnings (ἄρχμενος ὡς, 56), which contrasts with Callimachus’ refined selectivity, on which see especially ibid., p. 64–65;
2. chronology: the strict chronology typical of local history is represented in the summary. There is an obvious difference between Xenomedes’ approach to ordered temporal progression and Callimachus’ general abandonment of the bonds of chronology in the Aetia (beyond his starting point with Minos and his termination in present time). However, both Xenomedes (as presented here) and Callimachus do ultimately represent the advancement of civilization through time. For this notion of progress in Xenomedes, see R. Fowler, Early Greek Mythography, II, Oxford, OUP, 2013, p. 513; for progression in Callimachus, see M. A. Harder, “The Invention of Past, Present and Future in Callimachus’ Aetia,” Hermes 131, 2003, p. 298–304;
3. genre and aesthetics: the generic differences are evident, but we may assume that Callimachus’ version of Acontius and Cydippe’s story displayed far more artistry than the original prose version. The poet certainly expanded the original version with the addition of direct addresses, intertextual references to other poetry and prose, and, as is often noted, the inclusion of material derived from other (poetic) sources on Cean history. M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 632–33, provides an overview of these differences; more critical commentary and bibliography passim ad fr. 67–75. Cf. E. Magnelli, “Callimaco, fr. 75 Pf, e la tecnica narrativa dell’elegia ellenistica,” in A. Kolde, A. Lukinovich, A.‑L. Rey (eds.), Κορυφαίῳ ἀνδρί. Mélanges offerts à André Hurst, Geneva, Droz, 2005, p. 203–12, for the poetic value of Callimachus’ scholarly catalogue.

85 On the internal and external drives of Greek history (including local history) and “intentional history,” see H.‑J. Gehrke, “Myth, History, and Collective Identity: Uses of the Past in Ancient Greece and Beyond,” in N. Luraghi (ed.), The Historian’s Craft in the Age of Herodotus, Oxford, OUP, 2001, p. 286–313.

86 The Aetia as a poem that works to create this sort of shared and homogenized Greek identity, an identity particularly in line with Ptolemaic interests, has been the subject of a number of excellent recent studies, especially M. Asper, “Gruppen und Dichter,” A&A 47, 2001, p. 84–116, on the need for a unified cultural identity for Greeks in Egypt; M. Asper, “Callimachean Geopoetics and the Ptolemaic Empire,” art. cit., p. 156–77, esp. p. 167–71, for “geopoetics” and cultural identity; B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, op. cit., p. 148–203, on the creation of an “archive of shared images.”

87 For the political and Ptolemaic aspects of this unified identity, see M. Asper, “Callimachean Geopoetics and the Ptolemaic Empire,” art. cit., p. 170; B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, op. cit., p. 154.

88 Cf. ibid., p. 175 on the role of parallel tales in the Aetia.

89 Based on fr. 60c9, it seems Callimachus presented Heracles’ defeat of the Nemean lion as an aetion of the Games, though earlier in the episode (fr. 54.7) he also mentions their more traditional aetion (founded in honor of Opheltes). For the details of both aetia, see M. A. Harder (ed.), op. cit., II, p. 403–4 and p. 495.

90 For the possibility that Callimachus derived Molorchus from Agias and Dercylus’ Argolica, see A. Ambühl, Kinder und junge Helden. Innovative Aspekte des Umgangs mit der literarischen Tradition bei Kallimachos, Leuven, Peeters, 2005, p. 63 n. 124.

91 See B. Acosta-Hughes, S. Stephens, op. cit., p. 170–96, for discussion of the various local appearances of “Panhellenic” characters and events, including Minos and the Argonauts, as mythological frameworks for the Aetia.

92 E.g. fr. 31c–31g (Artemis at Leucas), fr. 100–100a (Ancient Statue of Hera of Samos), fr. 101–101b (Another Statue of Hera of Samos), fr. 114 (Statue of Delian Apollo).

93 Many thanks to Jim Clauss, Margaret Healy-Varley, and N. M. Lavoie for their invaluable advice and comments on various sections of this work.

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Robin J. Greene, « Callimachus and New Ancient Histories », Aitia [En ligne], 7.1 | 2017, mis en ligne le 21 mars 2017, consulté le 25 mai 2017. URL : http://aitia.revues.org/1706 ; DOI : 10.4000/aitia.1706

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Robin J. Greene

Providence College

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