1. PRELIMINARIES
Pindar's poetry is a work of art commissioned for specific occasions. In case of the victory odes, a winner in one of the four panhellenic festivals is ‘calling him to arms’, which means asking him to compose a poem, which will be performed either right away after the victory at the place of the festival or later on when the winner comes home and is welcomed solemnly by his community. Since these social contexts in which the victory odes are performed remain more or less the same, so do certain parts of Pindar's poems. For example, in every song Pindar is supposed to praise the respective victor and to interact in one way or another with the audience.Footnote 1 Given that Pindar is not only composing poems once in a while, but has to do this nearly all the time, it seems quite natural that he reuses certain elements that previously proved effective, even consciously referring to some elements used before in other poems. Every time he uses these elements, which he draws from the rich fountain of tradition, he alters, reshapes and recomposes them, to gain the goodwill of the patron and to achieve the effect that the poem is supposed to make within the ritual context with every single victory ode. That is also why the tension between the old and the new is so prominent a topic in Pindar's poems.
These recurring elements Pindar uses are not all of his own creation, but were mainly handed down to him by a line of poets reaching far back in time. Long before Pindar's time, there was already a very similar type of poetry embedded in similar contexts and commissioned for similiar occasions (cf. the Rigvedic Dānastutis). Today it is widely accepted that this tradition reaches as far back as to IE times. Therefore, Watkins calls Pindar ‘the most Indo-European of all Greek poets’.Footnote 2 In many respects Pindar's poetry can be regarded as even more archaic than the Homeric epics, because Pindar has much in common especially with the Vedic poetic tradition in which the poet-priest is commissioned by his patron and is bound by a strong reciprocal relationship as well. On top of that, there are many terminological correspondences between Pindar and the Rigveda, as, for example, in the famous case of Ved. vā́cam … takṣ-, Av. vacastašti- and Gr. ἐπέων … τέκτονες discovered by DarmesteterFootnote 3 and discussed in more detail by Schmitt.Footnote 4 For a general account of the antiquity of Pindar's tradition and its evolution in Greek, see NagyFootnote 5 and, with special regard to the poetic phraseology, MasettiFootnote 6 and Meusel.Footnote 7
2. PIND. NEM. 3.80–4: PROBLEMS AND SOLUTIONS SO FAR PROPOSED
2.1 Problems
The text in question that has given rise to such an abundant dispute about the interpretation of the image of the eagle is located at the end of Nem. 3, a victory ode in honour of Aristocleides from Aegina for his victory in the pancratium:
Swift is the eagle among birds, which suddenly seizes, as it searches from afar, the bloodied prey in its talons, while the cawing jackdaws range down below. But for you, through the favour of fair-throned Cleo and because of your determination for victory, from Nemea, Epidaurus, and Megara has shone the light of glory.Footnote 8
The passage marks the concluding stage of the poet's address to the victor, which began at line 67. After an invocation of Zeus (65–6), Pindar praises Aristocleides for his achievements for the island of Aegina, which he made famous (ὃς τάνδε νᾶσον εὐκλέι προσέθηκε λόγῳ, 68). Following a brief interruption by a gnomic digression on excellence and the different ages and virtues of men (70–5), Pindar finally turns back to the victor by means of χαῖρε (76). He compares his poem to a drink of milk and honey and expresses regret that his ode is somewhat late (76–80). Immediately after that, he introduces the imagery of the eagle and the jackdaws (80–2)Footnote 9 and closes the ode with another direct address to the victor (τίν γε μέν, 83) and the fame that he has won (82–3).
The main problem regarding Nem. 3.80–4 is the unexpected introduction of the eagle and the jackdaws, which finds no clear motivation within its immediate surroundings.Footnote 10 It is unclear whether the eagle stands for the poet or whether it should represent the addressee of the victory ode, Aristocleides.
2.2 Solutions so far proposed
This circumstance led to different interpretations of the imagery of the eagle and the jackdaws at the passage in question. So far, there are basically three standpoints used to account for this difficulty.
2.2.1 The eagle as the poet
The first standpoint can be regarded as the vulgate reading. It is in accordance with the scholia, which state that the eagle should be identified with Pindar and the jackdaws with his poet rivals:
(a) ἔστι δ’ αἰετὸς ὠκὺς ἐν ποτανοῖς: ὡς μετὰ πολὺν χρόνον τῆς νίκης γεγραμμένου τοῦ ποιήματος⋅ τῆς βραδυτῆτος οὖν ἕνεκεν ἱκανῶς καὶ τὴν εἰκόνα παρείληφεν. (b) ἢ οὕτως⋅ εἰ καὶ ὅλως ὀψέ [φησί,] γέγραπταί μοι τὸ ποίημα, ὅμως ὡς ἀετὸς πόρρωθεν ἐλθὼν ταχέως ἤγρευσέ τι καὶ συνήρπασεν, οὕτως ἐγὼ τὰ πράγματα ταχέως συνήρπακα καὶ γέγραφα. (Σ Pind. Nem. 3.138 (iii 61.19–page 62.3 Drachmann))
(a) Swift is the eagle among birds: because the poem was written a long time after the victory; because of the slowness he also chose the image adequately. (b) Or this way: although the poem was written by me pretty late, I too—just like the eagle coming from afar is hunting and seizing something quickly—seized my duty quickly and wrote it [that is, the poem].
κραγέται δὲ κολοιοὶ ταπεινὰ νέμονται: οἱ δὲ ἀντίτεχνοί μου κολοιοῖς ἐοίκασι, κραυγάζοντες μόνον καὶ ταπεινὰ νεμόμενοι, οὐ δύνανται δὲ διαίρεσθαι εἰς ὕψος. δοκεῖ δὲ ταῦτα τείνειν εἰς Βακχυλίδην⋅ ἦν γὰρ ὑφόρασις αὐτοῖς πρὸς ἀλλήλους. παραβάλλει δὲ αὑτὸν μὲν ἀετῷ, κολοιῷ δὲ Βακχυλίδην. (Σ Pind. Nem. 3.143 (iii 62.4–9 Drachmann))
The cawing jackdaws range down below: my rivals are like jackdaws, only croaking and ranging down below, and they are incapable of rising into the height. This seems to refer to Bacchylides. For there was some jealousy going on between the two of them. He compares himself to an eagle, Bacchylides to a jackdaw.
The idea is that just as the eagle flies high above the jackdaws, so does Pindar and his work stand out from the mediocre crowd of his contemporary poets. The brilliance of Pindar's work therefore makes up for the poem's tardiness, which he himself already mentioned (cf. ὀψέ, 80).Footnote 11 Thus the temporal distance of the late arrival would be set in relation to the spatial one between the eagle and the jackdaws.Footnote 12 This connection is indicated by the correlation between ὀψέ and ὠκύς within line 80:
late though it be. Swift is the eagle among birds
ὀψέ is separated from the sentence to which it belongs and is moved to the next verse, where it stands right in front of the words introducing the image of the eagle. This proximity in the verse suggests proximity in content, so that the reference to the poet would linger. According to this line of reasoning, the poetological reference from the preceding passage by means of the metaphorical (or metonymical) comparison of the song to a drink of milk and honey is upheld, and there is no need for a harsh transition within line 80 as suggested by Stoneman (see below). This view is also strengthened by some other passages in Pindar, such as Ol. 2.86–8 and Nem. 5.21, where the eagle is supposed to be more or less clearly identified with the poet.Footnote 13 A passage in Bacchylides (5.16–36) seems to convey this as well.Footnote 14 From a view strictly internal to the Pindaric poems, this interpretation seems the most natural, which is why many contemporary scholars maintain it.Footnote 15
2.2.2 The eagle as the victorious athlete
A completely different approach was proposed by Richard Stoneman with the ironically entitled article ‘The “Theban eagle”’, published in this journal in 1976. Stoneman argues that it is not the poet who is referred to by the eagle but the victorious athlete. He takes an in-depth look into three different passages from choral lyric—namely Pind. Ol. 2.83–100, Nem. 3.76–84 and Bacchyl. 5.16–36—and compares their motifs and imagery with other passages from the same authors, as well as from Greek literature more widely. For him, the image of the eagle stands in line with other identifications of the victorious athlete with animals, such as the lion, the fox and the dolphin, all of which stand out, like the athlete, because of their swiftness and power. Stoneman points especially to Pyth. 5.107–15, where to him it is obvious that with the image of the eagle no one other than the victor himself could be addressed. Citing parallels for corroboration, he concludes that ‘the great tyrant must surely have seen in the eagle a reference to himself’.Footnote 16 Depictions of eagles on coins of Acragas seem to strengthen this argument.Footnote 17 Most importantly, Stoneman calls attention to the particle chain τίν γε μέν (83). If the poet were being identified with the eagle, this particle chain should have an adversative meaning. But Stoneman rightly observes that γε μέν carries such an adversative force only in very few circumstances.Footnote 18 Usually it has a progressive or affirmative sense, linking a thought to the preceeding one or confirming it. This should also be the case in Nem. 3.83, whence the passage preceeding the τίν γε μέν should be linked to the τίν, which refers without a doubt to the addressee of the ode, the victor Aristocleides.Footnote 19 As a consequence, to uphold his interpretation of identifying the eagle with the victor, Stoneman is forced to construe a logical break within line 80: whereas Pindar is still upholding the reference to himself by continuing the preceeding sentence with the words ὀψέ περ in the first half, he abruptly turns to the victor in the second half (ἔστι δ’ αἰετός …). Even though Stoneman's interpretation was—not without reason—criticized heavily, as in the direct response by Bernardini,Footnote 20 the present paper will show that his idea is not as far off as it would seem at first glance.
2.2.3 A polyvalent interpretation: the eagle as poet and victorious athlete
Between these two contrary positions a third, intermediate way has also emerged. Already HubbardFootnote 21 and SteinerFootnote 22 brought the possibility into play that the eagle represents the poet as well as the victor all at once. A few years later, this position was reinforced and made more prominent by Pfeijffer.Footnote 23 He argues that one should consider the polyvalent reference of the eagle as some kind of refined, context-sensitive poetic trick. Whereas in his view the text is deliberately composed in such a manner that it at first conveys the impression that the eagle refers to the poet, that is, to Pindar himself, ‘it is only in retrospect that the listener realizes the double relevance of the image’.Footnote 24 Therefore, ‘the eagle represents both poet and victor too, but sequentially rather than simultaneously’, he concludes.Footnote 25
3. A NEW APPROACH
In this paper I provide additional evidence coming from the IE poetic tradition, which shows that it is fully justifiable to regard the image of the eagle as an allusion to the victorious athlete Aristocleides. This is mainly because there are very close parallels of the motif to be found in the Rigveda, where it is also the eagle that is striving for fame. This does not mean that I am denying that the eagle also stands for the poet; rather, I more or less adopt the intermediary or polyvalent approach. But, contrary to Pfeijffer, I do not think that the image of the eagle is so strongly dependent on its immediate context, and would not say that it is only ‘in retrospect’ that the audience recognized the double reference of the eagle. Owing to its traditional character, the listener (or, better, participant in the festivities) probably knew straight away about the peculiar and polyvalent use of the image at Nem. 3.80–2—or at least the poet did so. Thus it is scarcely the context alone which constitutes the meaning of the image; rather, it is the interplay between the traditional character of the image and the context that reveals a skilful handling and builds up the tension in that passage, since the traditional character comes with certain expectations, which then are frustrated or at least altered in an innovative and meaningful way by the context in which the image is embedded.Footnote 26
In what follows, I make clear why there is good reason to consider the imagery in Nem. 3.80–2 as traditional and referring not only to the poet but to the victorious athlete as well. Since the understanding of the eagle as a cypher for the poet is the vulgate reading (§2.1 above), I will concentrate on showing why the eagle can also be linked to the victor. But again, in doing so, I would not claim that it is the victor alone who can be recognized in the eagle.
3.1 Unity of lines 80–4 and the victor's κλέος
Let us begin with structural observations. If it can be shown that the last five lines of the poem starting with line 80—for a citation of the entire passage, see §2.1 above—form some kind of unity on a structural level, it is not far-fetched to claim that there also should be unity in these lines regarding the topic of the passage. And since it is quite clear that the last two lines of the victory ode (83–4) are concerned with the victor's κλέος, so should the preceding lines (80–2) be too. That means the image of the eagle should somehow be connected to the victor.
3.1.1 Structural observations within Nem. 3
A first hint at the unity of lines 80–4 can already be found in the passage itself. τηλόθε in line 81 describes the eagle seizing its prey ‘from far away’. Later, in line 84, Ἐπιδαυρόθεν indicates the origin of the victor's fame, namely Epidauros (alongside Nemea, Νεμέας, and Megara, ἄπο καὶ Μεγάρων, the places of his other victories). The link between both expressions is the origin marker –θε(ν), which specifies where something comes from. If we assume that the eagle represents the victor and leave all reservations to that view aside, it is remarkable how well both indications of place would fit together. Aristocleides came—like the eagle—more or less from afar, that is, from Aegina,Footnote 27 to the Nemean games and proved himself to be victorious there, thereby ‘seizing’ his κλέος. After the games were finished, he went back home, but the κλέος he won for himself there (and for his community) is still valid and therefore shines forth from the place of his victory, even at the time of the current festivities, the ritual hic et nunc of the victory ode. Thus –θε(ν) can be interpreted as preliminary, slight evidence for the unity of lines 80–4.Footnote 28
The picture becomes even clearer by a cautious look outside of the passage, but still within Nem. 3. Line 64 proves to be of special interest:
The far-shining light of the Aeacidae is fixed from here.
This verse could be understood as programmatic, in so far as it describes the fame of the Aeacids, the mythological forefathers of Aristocleides, and by doing so lays the foundation for the later reference to the victor's fame in the present. This is a typical way of structuring a Pindaric ode: first, the fame of the victor's ancestors, then the fame of the current victor, to present him as the pinnacle of a long-standing, famous line of heroes. In, for example, Ol. 1, lines 23–4 (λάμπει δέ οἱ κλέος | ἐν εὐάνορι Λυδοῦ Πέλοπος ἀποικίᾳ) serve as an introduction or transition to the lengthy narrative of the life of Pelops. Not until line 93 does this myth come to an end, and there we encounter words similar to those which introduced the myth seventy lines earlier: τὸ δὲ κλέος τηλόθεν δέδορκε τᾶν Ὀλυμπιάδων ἐν δρόμοις Πέλοπος (93–5). Here they prepare not for the ancient, mythological fame of Pelops but for the recent fame of Hieron, obtained through his victory at the Olympic games and celebrated by Pindar in this ode. Thus lines 23–4 of Ol. 1 together with its subsequent mythological narration establish the background in front of which the actual goal of the epinician, namely Hieron's fame, is presented. But this latter part of the poem is introduced in the same way as the previous mythological part,Footnote 29 contributing to a tight connection between Pelops’ and Hieron's fame.
If we apply the same analysis to Nem. 3, line 64 could be interpreted as the programmatic reference to the fame of the Aeacids. Lines 80–4 would then continue and transform this generic family fame, founded by the young Achilles, into the specific fame of Aristocleides, which is highly relevant to the present situation of the ongoing festivities, being the main reason the victory ode is being performed. This interpretation is corroborated by a more in-depth look into how both passages serve a specific function within the text. Line 64 concludes the listing of the mythological ancestors of the Aeacids and their achievements, especially Achilles’—his hunting skills in his youth (43–52) and his fight against Memnon at Troy (52–63). These achievements set the background for everything that is to follow. See, for example, the resultative meaning of the perfect ἄραρε: something has started happening in the past, but its achievement still has consequences for the present or rather even contributes significantly to structuring the present state of affairs. Achilles’ deeds endowed not only himself with fame but also his descendants; therefore, ἄραρε is a perfect device for transitioning from the illic et tunc to the hic et nunc. Hence line 64 could be understood as some kind of closing frame for the mythological part of the victory ode. Later on, lines 80–4 do more or less the same. They conclude that part of the poem in which Pindar praises the current athletic success of Aristocleides. But other than just to carry over to the next section, it ends the poem as such, which is no wonder because the ode already has reached its goal, the praise of the current victor and his fame. This framing function, similar to ἄραρε in line 64, is accomplished by the use of a perfect-tense form, namely δέδορκεν, the second-last word of Nem. 3. From now on, it is not only Achilles’ but also Aristocleides’ fame that shines for the Aeacids. Even regarding the content, there are similarities: in both passages it is swiftness that is being praised—in lines 43–52 it is Achilles’ (ἴσα τ᾿ ἀνέμοις, 45; ποσσὶ γὰρ κράτεσκε, 52), and in 80–2 the eagle's (ὠκύς, 80)—and in both Achilles as well as the eagle are depicted as hunters.Footnote 30
That lines 80–4 are a broader execution of the programme presented in line 64 also becomes apparent as soon as we pay attention to which elements Pindar chooses to use in both passages and how he skilfully arranges them. That is because Pindar ‘copies’ over much material from line 64 into lines 80–4, although in an altered surface form. It starts with the first element in line 64, τηλ– in τηλαυγές, which finds its correspondence in the key word of line 81, τηλόθε, right at the centre of the verse. It continues with ἄραρε in line 64, which is picked up by δέδορκεν in line 84. φέγγος in line 64 foreshadows φάος in line 84 (and probably even δέδορκεν if the combination of φέγγος and δέδορκεν at Nem. 9.41 is taken into account as well).Footnote 31 αὐτόθεν at the end of line 64 even has a double reference: it looks to Ἐπιδαυρόθεν in line 84, but its last element, the origin marker –θεν, hints again at τηλόθε in line 81, underlining its prominence as an important landmark for the text.Footnote 32 The following table summarizes the most important correspondences:
Yet another look into the placement of the corresponding elements in their respective lines yields interesting results. The two bracketing elements of line 64, τηλ– and –θεν, are in line 81 placed at the centre of the verse with τηλόθε, as if the whole program of line 64 was compressed into this one word. Moreover, the centre of line 64, φέγγος, is represented in line 84 by φάος not only at the end of the line but also at the end of the poem as a whole. Such a refined structure could hardly be due to coincidence, but rather demonstrates a skilful arrangement by the poet. As a consequence, it is difficult not to understand lines 80–4 as a unitary whole.Footnote 33
3.1.2 (Far-)Shining fame: a traditional element in choral lyric
If, as has been argued so far, lines 80–4 are a unity, it still remains unclear what they are about. Why not the poet and his craft? To answer this question, three key words in lines 80–4 are of great help: τηλόθεν, δέδορκεν and φάος. After a closer look at the way in which Pindar uses these words in his poetry, one conclusion is inevitable: they are all strongly associated with the concept of κλέος.
Three of the four Pindaric attestations of τηλόθεν are adverbial (Ol. 1.94; Nem. 3.81, 6.48) and one is a pre- or postposition with genitive (Nem. 2.12).Footnote 34 In all cases where τηλόθεν is used as a proper adverb, it is embedded in the same context: the κλέος of the victor or his family or his forefathers shines forth or flies from somewhere far away.Footnote 35 Nem. 3.81 aside, this can be seen from the following examples:
And far shines that fame of the Olympic festivals gained in the racecourses of Pelops, where competition is held for swiftness of feet and boldly laboring feats of strength.
Their name flies far away over the land and through the sea.
The κλέος of Ol. 1.93–6 belongs to Pelops for defeating Oenomaus in the chariot race and winning Hippodamia as his wife. But simultaneously it is also Hieron's κλέος for his recent victory as a charioteer in the Olympic games. Pelops’ and Hieron's κλέος shines from afar, which implies that it has such a strong force that it could easily be observed by anybody. τηλόθεν occurs in combination with δέδορκε, as in lines 81 and 84 from Nem. 3 (see below). In Nem. 6.48–9 it is the fame of the Aeacids (ἐπεί σφιν Αἰακίδαι | ἔπορον ἔξοχον αἶσαν ἀρετὰς ἀποδεικνύμενοι μεγάλας, 46–7), which encompasses among other things the fame of Achilles for killing Memnon, as well as that of the victor Alcimidas, to whom Nem. 6 is dedicated, which traverses all land and water and so again reaches every corner of the world.Footnote 36 Even in the single case of τηλόθεν functioning as a postposition in Nem. 2.12, it is placed in a passage concerned with the praise of the victorious Timodemus’ fame. Pindar compares the victor to Orion, who follows the Pleiades closely, implying further victories for Timodemus to come.Footnote 37
δέδορκεν in its intransitive (and typical) use, which relates to the look of someone or something perceived by others,Footnote 38 is attested three times in Pindar (Ol. 1.94; Nem. 3.84, 9.41).Footnote 39 Two of these examples have been cited already: whereas Nem. 3.84 is the text under investigation, the combination of τηλόθεν with δέδορκε can be seen in Ol. 1.94 as well, where both are closely connected to the fame of Pelops. Thus it is no great surprise that δέδορκεν behaves the same way at Nem. 9.41, the other attestation:
Truly they say that Hector's fame blossomed close by Scamander's streams, but beside the steep and rugged banks of the Helorus, at the place men call Areia's Ford, such a beacon has shone forth for the son of Hagesidamus in his earliest youth.
Lines 41–2 praise the military success of Chromius, the son of Hagesidamus, in his earliest manhood near the steep cliffs of the Helorus river at the passage of Rheia. Because of this success, a light (φέγγος) shines forth on him—again, expressed by means of δέδορκεν. That this φέγγος is a representation of the κλέος is apparent from the comparison of Chromius’ success with Hector's mentioned immediately before, which is also manifested in the syntax: Ἕκτορι μὲν κλέος ἀνθῆσαι parallels δέδορκεν παιδὶ τοῦθ᾽ Ἁγησιδάμου φέγγος.Footnote 40 So δέδορκεν, like τηλόθεν, is closely connected to the concept of fame.Footnote 41
The same goes for φάος. Although Pindar uses φάος in the literal sense (as in Ol. 10.75 for the light of the moon), there are also numerous examples where it stands for κλέος, as, for example, in Ol. 4.9–10 τόνδε κῶμον, χρονιώτατον φάος εὐρυσθενέων ἀρετᾶν or in Ol. 10.22–3 ἄπονον δ᾽ ἔλαβον χάρμα παῦροί τινες, ἔργων πρὸ πάντων βιότῳ φάος.Footnote 42 This holds true not only for φάος itself but also for other words meaning ‘light’, as in cases like Nem. 3.64 or 9.42 with φέγγος.
All in all, it is not unusual for κλέος to shine forth in Pindar. For example:
Fame shines for him in the colony of brave men founded by Lydian Pelops.
For their [sc. Pythonicus’ and Thrasydaeus’] celebration and glory are ablaze.Footnote 43
Given this clear picture and the close association of three central words used in Nem. 3.80–4 with the concept of κλέος, it is probably not too daring to claim that τηλόθεν, δέδορκεν and φάος signal that the whole passage is about fame. Furthermore, the multitude of attestations where fame is depicted as (far-)shining or even directly identified with light permit the inference of a well-established motif at work. Accordingly, the relevant passages from Nem. 3 should be considered a take on this motif.Footnote 44
If a motif is a topos, it is often traditional too (otherwise it would just be a prominent and frequently recurring invention by a single poet). The traditional character of an image or motif enables the poet to transform the traditional elements handed down to him; that is where he can excel most as a poet.Footnote 45 In the case of Nem. 3.80–4, this means that, if the motif of (far-)shining fame is rooted in the poetic tradition from which Pindar himself emerges, it could provide the necessary background for a poetic transformation (or reworking), which would ultimately yield the refined arrangement outlined above of the passage under discussion. There is no other way that the three signal words, for example, would ‘work’.
That the motif of (far-)shining fame comes out of a much older tradition can be demonstrated by a few additional observations. The first and most obvious regards the informational character (or semantic markedness) of the motif. A motif or collocation is more informative when an adjoining element adds to the informational content of a certain (phraseological) base. For example, the phrase ‘green grass’ would not be very informative, because the information that the grass is green is already inherent in the term ‘grass’ itself. So the adjective ‘green’ adds little to none informational value. By contrast, the phrase ‘blue rose’ is highly informative because the adjective ‘blue’ conveys information not typical of a rose, and so the phrase can be described as semantically marked. It is a typical feature of traditional elements in texts that they often display a high degree of informativity. This occurs because motifs or collocations lose their original motivation over time, eventually becoming opaque to later generations.Footnote 46 By considering the motif of (far-)shining fame, its highly informative nature is obvious. Why should one's fame be ‘shining’? This oddity is even further strengthened if its etymological background is taken into account as well. The central term for ‘fame’ in Greek, κλέος, is derived from the Proto-Indo-European (= PIE) root *k̑leu̯- ‘to hear’. It is an s-stem with the meaning of a resultative action noun. In consequence, κλέος should mean something like ‘that which is being heard’. As such, κλέος should be confined to the acoustic sphere. But how could something coming from the acoustic sphere suddenly start to shine? This odd behaviour, that is, the highly informative character of the motif, hints at its traditional nature.
This finding can be corroborated by another observation, which demonstrates that the origins of this motif extend beyond the tradition of Greek choral lyric or of the Greek language in general and into the tradition of IE poetry, namely that the same motif is found in Vedic literature. In the following examples from the Rigveda,Footnote 47 the noun śrávas- ‘fame, glory’ is qualified by the adjective dyumánt- ‘shining’:
For those who have given me fifty horses for our joint praise, for the generous men, o Agni, make bright and great fame, lofty (fame) filled with men, o immortal one.Footnote 48
There is also a compound citráśravas- ‘possessing bright (or shining) fame’, consisting of the adjective citrá- ‘shining, bright’ and śrávas- ‘fame, glory’:
Agni, the Hotar with a poet's purpose, the real one possessing the brightest fame, will come as a god with the gods.
The help of the god Mitra, who maintains the separate territories, brings gain; his brilliance holds bright renown.
Two examples in particular come close to the situation in Greek, especially regarding the identification of κλέος with φάος. In RV 1.92.8 and 6.5.5 it is said that Uṣas and Agni, respectively, shine with fame. The verb by means of which this is expressed, bhā-, is derived from the same PIE root as Greek φάος or φαίνω:
O Dawn, might I attain this glorious wealth, rich in good heroes, founded on horses, with alien slaves as its forelock—o you of good portion, who with fame of wondrous power radiate forth, motivated by (desire for) the prize, to lofty (wealth).
Whoever with sacrifice and with kindling wood, who with solemn speeches and with chants will ritually serve you, o son of strength, he, provident among mortals, o immortal one, shines out with wealth, with brilliance, with fame.
The Vedic evidence suggests that this is a semantically marked motif from IE times depicting fame (Gr. κλέος, Ved. śrávas-) unexpectedly as ‘shining’.Footnote 50 This is the source Pindar is ultimately drawing from when he makes use of this imagery. Since the three signal words discussed above were already pointing to (the victor's) fame as well, it is now easily discernible what the passage from line 80 onwards in Pindar's Nem. 3 is about: (far-)shining κλέος.
3.1.3 Poetic trickery: bypassing κλέος
Now one could interject: the word κλέος is nowhere to be found in Nem. 3.80–4. But this circumstance actually supports the argumentation, because there is some poetic ‘trickery’ at work here, which again only works if the traditional character of the motif is acknowledged.
κλέος may not be directly present, but its presence is—even beyond the traditional and highly informative character of the motif of (far-)shining fame—evidenced by another fact. Consider line 83:
But for you, through the favour of fair-throned Cleo and because of your determination for victory
There we find the proper name of one of the Muses, Κλεώ, in an absolute construction at the centre of the verse.Footnote 51 Her name derives from the same root as the resultative action noun κλέος, namely the PIE root *k̑leu̯- ‘to hear’, mentioned previously and reflected in Gr. κλεϜ-. If we additionaly take into account the phonetic resemblance of the two words—κλέος and Κλεώ—it seems that there is some kind of pun at play here—especially against the etymological background. This could lead to the impression that Pindar is deliberately avoiding the most common term for the most important concept in his victory odes, and hinting at it by different means.Footnote 52 Similar cases are found quite often, for example, when he avoids the traditional and formulaic phrase κλέος ἄφθιτον.Footnote 53 Avoidances of this kind demonstrate Pindar's artistic skill—the obvious would be tedious for a man of his technique.Footnote 54
3.1.4 Interim Conclusion
By taking a closer look at the three elements –θε(ν), δέδορκε(ν) and φάος, we have seen that lines 80–4 in Nem. 3 pick up and continue line 64 and should be considered a unitary whole. From these three ‘signal words’, too, it became clear that the passage in question is mainly concerned with κλέος and specifically with the athlete's κλέος after his victory at the games, since all three are closely associated with the motif of (far-)shining fame. That this motif is neither arbitrary nor an invention of Pindar but deeply rooted in the tradition of IE poetry has been evidenced by a comparison with examples from other branches of the IE family. Taking all this into account, it is reasonable to infer that the eagle in lines 80–1 must also be connected with the victor's fame and should consequently act as a metaphor for the victor, Aristocleides. Nevertheless, up to this point, direct and undeniable evidence for such an interpretation of the avian imagery is still lacking.
3.2 The eagle as a fame-seeker: a traditional image from IE times
A second and closer look at the foregoing analysis reveals that there is actually evidence only for the unity of lines 81–4 so far; the αἰετός in line 80 has strictly speaking not yet been included in the present interpretation. If we do not want to simply resort to the relative clause introduced in line 81, by which the αἰετός from line 80 is linked to lines 81–4, we must furnish additional proof.
Pfeijffer notes that the introduction of the avian imagery at Nem. 3.80 is somewhat odd because Pindar suddenly ‘makes statements about birds, which have, on a literal level, nothing to do with the context in which they are made’.Footnote 55 In terms of semantic markedness, the image of the eagle and the jackdaws is of highly informational character. As stated above, a high degree of informativity can be typical for traditional elements, which otherwise could often not be motivated and would make no sense in a given context. Pindar's poetry relies heavily on such traditional elements: that is one reason why he is often so hard to understand. Particularly for Nem. 3.80–4 and its immediate surroundings, many of those traditional elements can be detected, namely the motif of (far-)shining fame discussed above and the reference to the μεμιγμένον μέλι λευκῷ σὺν γάλακτι in lines 77–8.Footnote 56 In light of these circumstances, is it possible that the image of the eagle has such a traditional origin as well?
The answer to this question, which to my knowledge has not been previously posed, is yes. Indeed, there are passages in the Rigveda in which an eagle (or some other bird of prey)Footnote 57 is associated with striving for fame. In two of the examples below, it even occurs within the context of an athletic contest. This makes it highly probable that the imagery of the eagle in Pindar and that in the Rigveda share the same origin and stem from the IE poetic tradition. This becomes clear from a closer look through the following passages from the Rigveda:
When he brought it from there, quivering (in fear), the bird, swift as thought, was sent surging along the wide path. He traveled swiftly with the somian honey, and the eagle found fame here.
And the settled peoples shriek after him at his raidings as if after a thief who steals clothes, as he makes his way downward like a famished eagle toward fame and a herd full of livestock.
When, Indra, at the charge, you will spur on your steeds at the (contest for) great stakes, on an uncrowded (race)course, on its twisting path, like eagles hunting fame.
In all of these examples, it is a śyená- ‘bird of prey, eagle, falcon’ which is out for śrávas- ‘fame’.Footnote 58 RV 4.26.5 tells the well-known story of the eagle stealing Soma, the ritual drink of Vedic times, from heaven, where it was held captive by an archer named Kr̥śānu. There the śyená- is qualified by mánojavas- ‘posessing a swiftness like thought’ (or ‘in thought’) and he moves tū́yam ‘swiftly’. Such swiftness is a quality that has already been encountered as a characteristic for the eagle in Pindar. In Nem. 3.80 he calls it ὠκύς.Footnote 59 By seizing the Soma, the eagle in RV 4.26.5 is simultaneously seizing (vivide, literally ‘finding’, 5c) śrávas- ‘fame’. Although not embedded in an athletic context, the eagle's mythological deed is comparable to the athlete's situation in Pindar. Just as the athletic contender in Pindar's epinicians wins fame through his victory—a deed which often stands in line with the achievements of his mythological ancestors—so too does the eagle by fulfilling his mythological deed, a task imposed by his master, the highest of all gods, Indra. Moreover, the eagle is seizing not just any Soma but the mádhu somyám ‘the Soma-like honey’, which can be compared to Pindar's μεμιγμένον μέλι λευκῷ σὺν γάλακτι (77–8),Footnote 60 which is located immediately before and therefore stands in direct contact to the image of the eagle introduced in line 80.Footnote 61
The second example comes much closer to the actual situation in Pindar. RV 4.38 is a celebratory hymn for the prize-winning racehorse Dadhikrā, which won many contests and thus provided its owner with many gifts. The context is nearly the same as in Pindar, namely one of athletic competition. In verse 2 the horse Dadhikrā is compared to a ‘straight-flying eagle’ (r̥jipyáṃ śyenám, 2c) and is said to be āśú- ‘swift’—the etymological cognate of Gr. ὠκύς, the adjective which Pindar uses to describe the αἰετός in Nem. 3.80. In verse 5 this comparison is repeated and embedded in an imagery reminiscent of Nem. 3.81, where the eagle suddenly seizes its prey with its feet. Again, Dadhikrā is compared to an eagle, this time to an eagle who is exhausted and hungry (jásuriṃ ná śyenám, 5c). In such a state, it is hunting prey and as a result rushing down (nīcā́yamānam, 5c). The prey it intends to seize are fame and a herd of cattle (śrávaś ca áchā paśumác ca yūthám, 5d), representations of the two prototypical prizes to be won at the Vedic contests. The proximity to Pindar is remarkable.
The last remaining example occurs in a similar context. RV 6.46 requests from Indra that he be of assistance in the contests.Footnote 62 In verse 13, the penultimate of the hymn, Indra himself is depicted as a charioteer taking part in a contest, where a big prize (mahādhaná-, 13b) awaits the winner as a compensation for his toils. At the end of the verse, Indra's desire to win is compared to the image of eagles eager to win śrávas- ‘fame’ (śyenā́m̐iva śravasyatás, 13d).Footnote 63 This passage too shows how closely the image of the eagle is associated with the desire to gain fame, especially in athletic contests.
From these examples we may infer that this image was already part of the IE poetic tradition. If so, we can now with a greater certainty decide what line 80 from Nem. 3 is about, namely κλέος; and not any κλέος, but specifically the victor's or the athlete's κλέος, or, in the case of Nem. 3, the fame of Aristocleides. This is made clear by the Vedic parallels. There it is mostly the person who takes part in a contest who seeks fame and is identified with the eagle. Regarding its direct surroundings in Nem. 3, it would also be appropriate if the imagery of the eagle was traditional because the directly preceding μεμιγμένον μέλι λευκῷ σὺν γάλακτι is just as traditional as the immediately following motif of (far-)shining fame.
4. CONCLUSION
This survey has shown that the passage Nem. 3.80–4 should be considered a unitary whole. It is a longer elaboration on the programmatic verse 64 of the same poem, which serves as a closure for the narrative of the mythological deeds of the ancestors and their fame. This is indicated by the recurring use of the three elements –θε(ν), δέδορκε(ν) (for ἄραρε) and φάος (for φέγγος) over the course of lines 81–4. These three signal elements are also linked to an older, traditional motif, namely (far-)shining fame. This can be deduced not only from its frequent use in Pindar but also from its highly informative character. Furthermore, this topos is common not only in Pindar but also in the Rigveda (and probably in other IE poetic traditions too). In both Pindar and the Rigveda, the topos always refers to the fame an athlete or someone else is striving for. Given the unity of lines 80–4, in which the avian imagery and the motif of (far-)shining fame are interwoven, it would be consistent for the image of the eagle to be concerned with the same topic, namely the athlete's or the victor's κλέος. The eagle should then stand for the victor of the present victory ode, Aristocleides.
That this is indeed the case is revealed by yet another observation. The image of the eagle is embedded in the midst of other traditional elements. This starts with the preceding lines 77–80 and their μεμιγμένον μέλι λευκῷ σὺν γάλακτι, which has clear cognates in other IE traditions and can be traced back terminologically to the earliest period of IE poetry. The other traditional motif is the aforementioned (far-)shining fame. This circumstance makes it worth considering whether the image of the eagle may be another of these traditional elements.
Again a comparison with the Rigveda shows that the image or metaphor of an eagle is indeed traditional. Even if this image is not unambiguously related to the athlete or to the victor within Greek, the Vedic attestations make it clear that, none the less, it must be just as old as the motif of (far-)shining fame, coming from a very old part of the IE poetic tradition. This is even more remarkable because the Vedic attestations not only have the same imagery but are also similar to the specific situation in Pindar: most are found in the context of an athletic contest, where the athlete or, more precisely, his racehorse desires to win fame. Thus it is likely that Pindar's poetry here descends from the same sources as the Rigveda. Stoneman's observation about the connective value of τίν γε μέν (see above) strengthens this line of reasoning.
However, as Pfeijffer and others have pointed out, the image must not relate exclusively to the victor. There are good reasons to believe that Pindar is describing himself as the eagle as well. This is suggested by parallels that have often been cited (Pind. Ol. 2.86–8, Nem. 5.21; Bacchyl. 5.16–36), in which Pindar compares himself to an eagle. Hence the image of the eagle in Nem. 3.80 should be interpreted as polyvalent.
This double reference of the eagle is not insignificant. Within the poem it marks a transition from one section of the text to another, that is, from a poetological passage to the concluding part of the epinician aiming at the praise of the victor. After some gnomic and poetological digressions it brings the poem back to the immediate hic et nunc, to which the ode was already turning with the invocation of Zeus from line 65 onwards. Right at the place where the image of the eagle is introduced, a swift shift to the hic et nunc occurs. Everything that follows the image is then concerned solely with the victor Aristocleides. It is his, and only his, (far-)shining fame, and it is he who alone is responsible for the festivities taking place right now.
Such a double reference does not necessarily have to be confusing and, contrary to Pfeijffer's suggestion,Footnote 64 I would not say that the double meaning only becomes clear ‘in retrospect’ because of the context. In Pindar's time the image of the eagle carried that double reference per se. The reference to the poet was well known because of its frequent occurrence in contemporary choral lyric, while the reference to the victor cannot be accounted for from Greek literature alone, and is rather a motif from the IE poetic tradition.Footnote 65 None the less, the poet himself (and probably even certain parts of the audience acquainted with that tradition) should have been familiar with a traditional element of this kind, because he was part of or was even standing amidst that unbroken tradition, to which Pindar himself refers on different occasions.Footnote 66
Therefore, the image of the eagle proves to be a fitting and refined instrument for a transition such as in Nem. 3.80—connecting the poet to the victor and to the immediate hic et nunc.Footnote 67 It is not a harsh transition or even a break of thought after the ὀψέ περ, as Stoneman was forced to claim,Footnote 68 but an elegant modulation, once we acknowledge its poetic heritage. As soon as we delve into the poetic tradition from which Pindar comes, there is a chance that many hitherto obscure and controversial passages might become easier to understand. The image of the eagle looking out for fame in order to bask in it is just one example of this; no doubt there are many others out there.
