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Pindar and the Origin of Tragedy Author(s): S. M. Adams Source: Phoenix, Vol. 9, No. 4 (Winter, 1955), pp. 170-174 Published by: Classical Association of Canada Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1086343 Accessed: 24/11/2010 10:06
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PINDAR AND THE ORIGIN OF TRAGEDY

S. M.

ADAMS

roXX&6' iv Kap6lats aavSpi'v gf3aXop &p'ppat lro\Xv&veotL atirav6' epovros Cepyov. Xata aockioLoCa'. Tat Awvbov 7r6oev IeV4avev avv Po7XaX&rq. X&ApLtrs M&vp&iQlpa;
ris yap inreLoLs vp 'evrea(TLP Aerpa,

16

20

olwvAv faalX&a 6i6vUpov ij Oc,w vaoLoalv

Tr0rjKc'; ( v 68 MoZO'ad'rTroos kv 6' 'Aprls&ytv6 ve'w ovXLatsatX,lal'av avlppCv.

19. f3oX&Trw Paris. gr. 2774 -01. 13

Flower-laden Hours have placed in men's understanding many an accomplishment reachinginto the past. But every achievementis to be attributed to its discoverer.How did it come to pass that the lovely art of Dionysus made its appearancein association with the ox-driving dithyramb?Who, indeed, imposed control upon horses by means of reins, or set the twin king of birds upon the temples of the gods? Herein flourishesthe charming Muse, as Ares flourishesamongst the deadly spears of warriors.

with what Aristotle has to say about the origin DISSATISFACTION of tragedy (Poetics 1449a 9ff) springs from unwillingness on the part of scholars to believe that anything so solemn and grand as tragedy originated in connection with anything so lively and grotesque as a primitive wine-song, and that the satyr-play was intermediate in the development of tragedy from this early dithyramb. Yet, distant though he is, Aristotle is very much closer than other authorities to the origin of tragedy. It is obvious from his brevity here that he is setting forth facts generally known in his day; when he is dealing with what is less familiar (for instance, the technical divisions of a play) he is much more detailed. Nowhere in the field of religion could drama have arisen more naturally than in connection with this performance. Nowhere could a devotee more naturally "assume a part" than those who "prefaced" it; the devotee of Dionysus, by virtue of the wine he consumed, was potentially an actor. Moreover, Aristotle does not say that tragedy originated in the dithyramb itself; he states that it originated with the exarchontes-these "actors"-in the plural; and it is certainly natural that what the Greeks called tragedy should pass through some intermediary half-poeticized state, such as the satyr-play, before it achieved the semnotes that Aris170 THEPHOENIX, vol. 9 (1955) 4.

PINDAR AND THE ORIGIN OF TRAGEDY

171

totle prescribes. It was perhaps because this satyr-play resembled the original dithyramb that to each tragic trilogy a satyr-play was appended in fifth-century Athens; tragedy itself had long forsaken a purely Dionysiac theme, but the satyr-play, to some extent at least, recalled it. That is the natural conservatism of custom and religion. Despite the mass of material that has since been assembled, abandonment of Aristotle thus arises out of unwillingness to believe him. But if it can be shown that a fifth-century Greek may have felt and expressed this same surprise, we shall do well to return to him. We could have hoped for more; but only a part of what was written has come down to us, and we shall count ourselves fortunate in possessing comment by so typical a Greek as Pindar. Olympian 13 celebrates the double achievement, in quarter-mile and pentathlon, of Xenophon of Corinth. Concerning this ode the late Professor Gilbert Norwood's treatment is typically brilliant.' The poet was enamoured of neither man nor city. Yet Corinth claimed much, including the dithyramb, the use of reins, and the eagle-pediment; and mention of such things was necessary. But, as Norwood justly observes, "the dithyramb and the temple-pediment are not so described as to fire our blood." Pindar has, indeed, omitted much that could be attributed to Corinth. It would therefore seem that in composing this ode he is writing with his tongue in his cheek. He will mention, because he must, various claims; but, as the above translation is intended to show, he expressly refrains from endorsing them. And it is with "the graces of Dionysus" that he is especially concerned; an ellipsis is implied by yap (20), and reins and pediment are therefore subsidiary. I suggest that by these "graces of Dionysus" he means, particularly, tragedy. It is true that a majority of the forty-five epinicians antedate tragedy proper; but no fewer than seventeen are accorded dates that place them subsequent to 472, when Aeschylus produced his Persae. Earlier than 464 (the date assigned to 01. 13) Pindar must therefore have known that in Athens performance of the dithyramb had yielded this new art. He must have seen and heard at Athens both dithyrambs and tragedies, and the latter cannot have failed to impress him. He must have been well aware that, whatever might be said of the invaluable Arion, no Dorian claim to tragedy had any real foundation.2 Tragedy was distinctively an Athenian art, an art replete with "the graces of Dionysus." If its ultimate origin was to be sought, one must look to the ancient past; and that was, practically, meaningless. After all, airav evpvroVSepyov and who could be said to have "discovered" tragedy? We can do no more than ascribe this, like reins and pediment, to the Muse, and let it go at that.
'G. Norwood, Pindar (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1945) 18-21. 2ForAristotle on the Dorian claims see Poetics 1448a 29 ff.

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THE PHOENIX

It will be apparent that this interpretation centres on verses 18 and 19. The general sense of these has been taken to be "Where else than in Corinth did the lovely dithyramb arise?" That is the sense that Pindar fully expected Xenophon and the Corinthians to extract. But "else than in Corinth" is a translator's interpolation. It is not what Pindar really asks; he asks "How did the lovely art of Dionysus come to light in connection with the ox-driving dithyramb?" Beneath his words lies could yield anything so lovely; and surprise that anything so f3orX&Tr7s this is the same surprise that has led scholars to seek the origin of tragedy along the tortuous paths of speculation. Nor is this surprise indicated merely by the summary nature of the question. It is made more emphatic by the juxtaposition of 3orXXa&rtand x&PLres.The contrast here is deliberate; this is surprise inescapable. If the Corinthians take these verses as they are meant to take them, so much the better; Pindar expects this; but he is far from committing himself. He proceeds, in effect, "We do not know, any more than we know who invented reins or the eagle-pediment." These things happen, often surprisingly; but their ultimate origin is too remote to be attributed locally: Corinthians shall not be said by Pindar to have derived such "graces." If in what follows he refers allusively to the reins, as Sandys holds,4 and if he tells at some length the story of Bellerophon and Pegasus,5 he has already done his duty. Two phrases in these verses perhaps require further comment: 1. Atwvibaov X&plres. So far as I am aware, commentators are agreed on the impersonal nature of these graces. In Farnell's words, they are "not here personal goddesses as they are in the old ritual hymn of Elis which associates them with Dionysos";6 in Heyne's pithy words, vix esse possunt nisi carmina, hymni. It is also usually assumed that the reference is to the poeticized dithyramb and not to its original invention, although the point is disputed. "The answer to this question," writes Fennell, "is Arion of Methymna, who, according to Herodotus I 23, was said by the Corinthians to have first composed and given its name to the dithyramb at Corinth." But, while two of the older scholia tell us that
Arion first instituted the
KKXLOS xop&s

and

arranged

it,

one

such

scholium asserts that Pindar in his Hyporchemata ascribes the invention of the dithyramb to Naxos, and to Thebes in his first Dithyramb. From this it is clear that the Corinthian claim to the dithyramb was disputed;
'On juxtapositions in Pindar see L. Woodbury, TAPA 78 (1947) 368-375, especially with regard to Hartung's 7rotKtXa in Isth. 4. 19. 4Sir J. E. Sandys, Pindar (Loeb Classical Library, London 1915) 135, n. 2. 6See Norwood, Pindar 21: "This whole story has an air somewhat chilly and aloof: the reminder at its close, that Bellerophon's end was bitter, cannot have pleased the listeners whose pride in the legend is shown by the Pegasus upon their coins." 6Plut. 9uaest. Gr. 36 [299B]: XOe vas p v avyv6v a'v 'v, ipwc At6vvae, | 'AXeo es XapiTreaav I Es vabv I rTCOo4w 7ro8t BOwov.

PINDAR AND THE ORIGIN OF TRAGEDY

173

and it is not convincing to argue, with Farnell, that "Greek local traditions were happily inconsistent." It may well be doubted that Pindar is referring only to the dithyramb, old or new.7 No poet of his quality could write what really could only mean "How did the poeticized dithyramb arise in connection with the ox-driving dithyramb?" However much he wrapped his meaning in poetic circumlocution, the fact remains that 6LavpaAfy is in the dative case; something other than the dithyramb is involved. This, I submit, is nothing less than tragedy itself; and the
scholiast who wrote at eopral a rb T eraTywyov exovaat left the reference with (abv) the ox-driving

sufficiently wide.
2. aov 1or7X&Trq Ltvp&A#4qo:"in association

dithyramb." On the epithet Gildersleeve reflects the divided opinion of scholiasts and editors. It refers, he says, either to the victor's prize in the dithyramb or to the symbolical identification of Dionysus with the bull. The former opinion is held by certain scholiasts and by Heyne, Fennell, Sandys, and others; a fragment of Simonides is quoted in support.8 On the alternative Fennell merely quotes Donatus, but Farnell is explicit: from the form of the word, the epithet can only mean "ox-driving"; that is, the dithyramb as sung by those driving the bull along in a procession-"such a dithyramb, with its refrain
tite ralpe,

as was sung

by the Elean women." It cannot be used, he maintains, to express the fact of a bull as the prize. But all this points to confusion on the part of editors ancient and modern.9 Pindar may have a double meaning, but he is not so obscure as this. From time immemorial the gait of the bull is
"shambling"; cf. the Homeric eXtirovs.1? Placed next to xaPTreS, the

word to non-Corinthian ears means "shambling" or, more prosaically, "clumsy." The termination arrns is certainly active; that is why a later scribe (if we add the subscript iota) wrote fo?7Xar., from the passive pfotXaros. The adjective, here at least, describes the gait of the bull and the gait of those who act the bull. Pindar, then, is saying "How did the lovely art of Dionysus come into existence in association with the clumsy dithyramb?" The fact surprises
actual songs: XPi 8~ KCwiaoovr' ayavais XapireaL But the present passaoc faartaaL. age is different from this; there is a clear contrast in 01. 13. 8Simon. fr. 145 (202): 'Eri 7revrTrKOvTa, L/CILWoV1l, 77pao ravpovs Kal Tpl7rokas, & 7rvaKa' I ro70a?aKL ' lepo6evraL a rpiv rbv6' a&vOp/.vaE aUevos xopov avSpw [ ev66oov NlKacs &yXa6v &p/u' lri's. Fragments 147 (203) and 148 (205) show, it is said, that the reference is to dithyrambs. 9One speculation can be summarily dismissed: this epithet is not to be derived from po7. ?0Theshambling and stamping of oxen is a commonplace in Greek literature as in others, and the wine-flushed performers of the early dithyramb may well have merited this description. Modern folk-dances sometimes come within its scope. In this connection cf. rT /3o,C T7roSt in the Elean hymn, where Oivwprobably Oaovw does not mean to hasten: see LSJ sub voc. (B).

7It is true that, as Farnell says, in Isth. 3. 8 Pindar uses the word as a synonym for

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THE PHOENIX

him, as it surprised so many scholars of later date. He is referring especially to tragedy, and he accepts the fact of this origin; so does Aristotle, and so should we. Nor need we wonder that Pindar prefaces the passage I have quoted by:
eXW KaX&-re pp&o(ua, r6oX,care ,ot eUOela yX'Xaaav opvvet Xe'yEtv. a./aXov 6a Kpna. r o'Tvyyevhs '6os.

"Tolma," he says, "will guide my tongue to its goal. I cannot quell my inborn nature." He knows what he means to say to those who will understand; others are at liberty to suppose he is only apologizing for "plunging into the thick of his praises." Pindar's poems have indeed a meaning for the wise.