Chapter XII: The Lay Authors (2)

As to an eternity of bliss awaiting the soul, the god in man, after its final release from the shackles of the body, the poet knows as little of such as he does of an eternity of damnation for the wicked. Only the quite special state of grace which is enjoyed by those who have been purified in the mysteries of the goddesses at Eleusis receives mention by him[110\12]: he is frequently disposed to think of this supreme expression of Attic worship with patriotic pride.[111\12] But it is only a minority of the good who thus achieve by the grace of the goddesses a privileged "life" in the kingdom of shadows. One and only one is lifted by the divine grace clear of the human fate of annihilation, and in the Grove of the Erinyes the sorely-tried Oedipus is translated without seeing death out of this earthly life.[112\12] So living a reality to this poet of ancient piety is the conviction that the divine miracle of translation[113\12] is a literal truth, that he is even ready {431} to make this strange circumstance serve as the sole aim and purpose of a whole drama: a miracle which all the other scenes serve not so much to prepare as simply to postpone, and thus heighten the expectancy with which the event is awaited. It is not supreme virtue that secures an immortality for Oedipus which others also who showed an equal degree of goodness might possibly attain. He reveals himself to us as an innocent sufferer indeed,[114\12] but also as obdurate in his rash and violent nature, vindictive, stubborn, and self-willed, not ennobled but rather brutalized by his sufferings.[115\12] Nevertheless, divine power elevates him to the state of immortal _Hero_ less almost for the sake of the satisfaction and bliss to himself as in order that he may be the saviour of the Attic land, the country of humanity and kindness that has taken into its protection[116\12] the unfortunate one, and desires to preserve for ever his power of blessing.[117\12] Just as once it had pleased divine power to overwhelm the innocent victim in a sea of crime and suffering, so now it pleases the same divine power to raise the sufferer, without any new or special merit on his side, to a fate of superhuman bliss.[118\12] In his case a divine miracle occurs, into the ultimate reasons for which it is not profitable to inquire.

In his views, so far as he allows us to see them, of the things of the next world, Sophokles differs not at all from those who still saw life and worshipped the gods as their fathers had done before them. The great poet of human, tragic destiny, the profound student of the divine government of this mournful world, was unwilling to set by the side of it a brighter and more comforting picture of a spirit world of the imagination. In this, too, he is modest and will not say much--he knows no more of these matters, and in no other fashion, than "any other honest citizen of Athens".[119\12]

§ 6

In the course of a long life Sophokles was able to make himself complete master of his art and grow up into strong and generous manhood without the guidance or support of either theological or philosophical learning. Theology he did not care to seek out in its hiding place, the obscurity of isolated sects. Philosophy, in the period of his impressionable youth, had not yet reached Athens, and when he had attained riper years his noble simplicity of temper had little to gain or to fear from the meditated wisdom or folly of the younger generation. In serene detachment he passed on his way through all the press and clamour of the market place. {432}

The moving impulse which since the end of the sixth century had collected together at Athens all the intellectual forces of Greece for a final expansion of their capacity now began, in the middle of the fifth century, to take hold of philosophy as it had long since done literature and the fine arts. Athens saw the last representatives of Ionian physiology gathered together within her walls. Some, like Anaxagoras, took up their residence there for a long period, and left the impress of their teaching upon the foremost minds of the city. The others who paid briefer visits were those who in conscious opposition to the recent trend of thinking, stoutly upheld the older principles of philosophic Monism or Hylozoism, such as Diogenes of Apollonia or Hippon of Samos; or who sought like Archelaos to reconcile the old and the new Ionic doctrine. Besides these, Athens was a headquarters of the wandering exponents of the newest wisdom, the Sophists. Nowhere did unfettered discussion find such cultivated appreciation of its daring; nowhere was such an eager welcome given to the dialectical word-play that, seeming to be an end in itself, was destined to become the most fruitful nursery of native Athenian philosophy. All traditional beliefs and customs that had not their origin or their justification in reflexion were already doomed as soon as they, together with every conventional view of life and the world, were deprived of their natural protection of unchallenged self-evidence by the cold scrutiny of the sovereign tyrant Dialectic. The Sophists, those skirmishers of a new and as yet unrecognizable philosophy, scattered and put to flight the old guard of positive and doctrinal wisdom, but to the individual, who was bidden to depend upon his own resources, they offered stimulus to reflection in abundance but no permanent foothold in the shifting sands of opinion. It would be but a final assertion of the principle that there are no principles if by any chance the Sophists themselves should for a moment speak in the language of edification and, for example, lend the support of their eloquence to certain articles of doctrine that provided a positive teaching as to the nature and life of the soul.[120\12]

If Sophokles remained quite unaffected by this whole movement which reached its flood tide in Athens, Euripides was drawn completely into its current. He sought out philosophers and sophists personally and in their writings. His was a spirit that urgently desired to know the truth and he followed every available guide to knowledge and wisdom for a stage upon their journey. But he was never able to continue permanently in any one direction; in the restlessness {433} and bewilderment of search and experiment he is the true son of his age.

His philosophical and sophistical leanings were sufficiently marked to make it impossible for him to accept any part of the belief or tradition of his countrymen without trial. So far as it is possible within the limits of dramatic art, he instituted an unsparing and unhesitating criticism of all accepted things, and in the process felt himself immeasurably superior to the wit and wisdom of the past. And yet he never satisfied himself. He could never rest content with a merely negative position, for all onesidedness was foreign to his nature. The tremendous honesty of his nature made it impossible for him to admit that element of frivolity which made the sophistic movement and the dialectical negation of all certainty so simple and attractive, and at the same time took away half its sting. But he could take nothing easily; and so with all his sophistic enlightenment he was never happy. The pupil of the Sophists would hear every other side as well; there were even moments when he longed to take refuge in the restful narrowness of old and traditional piety. But it was not given to him to settle down in any fixed set of opinions; all his convictions were provisional, mere hypotheses adopted for the purposes of experiment. Afloat on a changeful sea, he let himself be driven hither and thither by every wind of intellectual excitement or artistic necessity.

When all convictions were involved together in a state of perpetual change and instability, the conception of the nature and being of the soul and its relation to the powers of life and death could not alone remain in fixed and dogmatic certainty.

Where the content and character of the fable chosen as the subject of his drama demand it, the poet frankly adopts the popular view of the nature and destiny of the departed soul, its power and claim upon the worship of the survivors upon earth. In the fairy-tale play of the "Alcestis" the whole apparatus of popular belief plays its part; the God of Death and his awful office, the dwelling of the dead in the underworld, are spoken of as facts and creatures of experience and reality.[121\12] The elaborate funeral ceremonies owed to the dead are treated with the utmost seriousness and precision.[122\12] A whole drama, the "Suppliant Women", has as its real subject, or at least as its ostensible motive, the religious importance of a ritual burial,[123\12] nor is there any lack of isolated passages in which the importance of burial and the honour paid to graves is stressed.[124\12] The survivors on earth give pleasure to the dead by offerings at their graves,[125\12] {434} and in this way obtain their goodwill and can count upon their support.[126\12] Power and honour belong not only to the great ones of antiquity translated to a higher state of being;[127\12] not only "Heroes" can extend their influence beyond their graves and affect the course of earthly events:[128\12] from the soul of his murdered father, the son expects assistance and succour in his time of need. The dread creatures of antique faith, the Erinyes, exact vengeance for the murdered mother.[129\12]

But at this point it becomes apparent that the poet only associates himself for his own purposes with this circle of ancient and sanctified popular fancy--so long in fact as it suits the tone that he wishes to give to the drama and its characters. The Erinyes are excellent material for the play--that in reality their horrid figures only exist in the imagination of the mentally diseased is clearly asserted in the "Orestes".[130\12] The whole series of beliefs and demands--murder ever calling forth fresh murder in accordance with the sacred duty of vengeance, the Erinyes, the bloodthirsty patrons of the murdered victim who leaves no proper avenger behind him--all these have ceased to have any validity for him. The "animal and bloodthirsty" part of these figures of ancient belief call forth the loathing of the poet living in the days of organized justice and humaner manners.[131\12] He does not believe in the souls' right to blood; the ancient legends which depend on this right are an abomination to him. In fact, he only seems to have written his plays about them in order, by the manner of his presentation, to have his revenge upon this material that was almost unavoidably thrust upon him by the tradition of the tragic stage. The duty of the living to offer a cult to the departed souls becomes doubtful in its turn. The seriousness with which that cult is sometimes handled in the plays is compromised by such reflections as these: it is certain that it matters little to the dead whether rich offering are placed in their graves or not; such things only satisfy the idle vanity of the living;[132\12] honour and dishonour are of no further consequence to the dead.[133\12] How should they be, if the departed no longer feel either pleasure or pain, are nothing at all, as is repeatedly declared even in the middle of the "Alcestis"?[134\12]

It is evident that only from an arbitrarily adopted point of view do the picturesque creations of popular belief in the soul and of the cult of souls seem real to the poet; apart from this they disappear from his mind like the creatures of a dream.[135\12] The teachings of the theologians supplied him with no real substitute for popular faith; at the most they were a {435} momentary and passing stimulus. No doubt he did not shut his eyes completely to these manifestations of the spiritual life of his time. His plays contain allusions to Orphic poetry and he joins the asceticism of the Orphics to the cold virtue of his Hippolytos.[136\12] The thought that the soul has fallen from a higher state of being and is enclosed within the body like the dead man in his coffin takes captive his imagination for a moment. "Who knows then whether life is not a kind of death," so that in death the soul awakes to its real life?[137\12] The gloomy view of human destiny upon this earth to which the poet so often gives expression, might seem to hint at a consolation to come in a more satisfactory hereafter; but the poet has no longing for the consolation offered by the theologians. Among the many and various reflections of the poet upon the reality that may reveal itself when the curtain is drawn aside by death, we never meet with the conception that lies at the bottom of the assurances made by the theologians--the conception that the spiritual individual is certain of its immortality because in its individuality it is of divine nature and is itself a god.[138\12] True, he is the author of the bold saying so often quoted and varied in later times, that God is nothing else but the mind that dwells in men.[139\12] But this makes no allusion to the theological doctrine of the multiplicity of individual gods or daimones banished into the life of men; it rather implies a semi-philosophic doctrine of the soul in which one may perceive for the first time the expression of a permanent conviction on the part of the poet.

In quite inapposite contexts Euripides sometimes introduces passing allusions to a philosophical view of the world and humanity, that is the more certainly to be regarded as the private conviction of the poet himself as the utterances fail to correspond fully with the character of the person in the play who makes them, and do not arise necessarily from the dramatic situation. Everything in the world has had its origin from Earth and "the Aether of Zeus"; the Earth is the maternal womb from which the Aether brings everything to birth.[140\12] Both constituents combine to produce the multiplicity of appearance; they are not fused together nor are they to be derived from a single common original element;[141\12] they remain in dualistic contrast side by side.[142\12] It was probably the dualism of this cosmological fancy that reminded the ancients of Anaxagoras; but these statements cannot be regarded as simply a poetical version of the doctrine of Anaxagoras;[143\12] for they derive the multiplicity of matter and things from the simple element of "Earth" from which {436} they arise only by a process of change and transformation, while in the "seedmixture" of Anaxagoras, the unchangeable seeds of all things only separate themselves out from the whole and give rise by mechanical reassemblings to all the perceived appearances of the world. The "Aether" of Euripides in its relations with the "Earth" is besides being the active partner also the intellectual and animated element. The isolation of such an element from the rest of matter does indeed remind us of the procedure of Anaxagoras. But the poet's Aether is still an element though it may be penetrated by mind and animated by spirit; it is not a mental being standing over against all the other elements in essential distinctness like the _Nous_ of Anaxagoras. The fact that it is the element of the Aether, i.e. the dry and hot air, in which intellectual capacity is said to inhere, may be regarded as having been borrowed from Diogenes of Apollonia, a philosopher who was held in considerable estimation at Athens at that time, and who was well known to Euripides.[144\12] In his doctrine, the air (which indeed, in contrast to the view of Euripides, produces all other things simply out of itself) is expressly identified with the "Soul" and is itself described as "having understanding".[145\12]

This view of the elementary forces and constitution of the universe, made up as it is from philosophical suggestions of a scarcely reconcilable character, in which the dualistic tendency is in fact finally predominant, suggests itself to the poet whenever in an exalted mood he speaks of the final destiny of the human soul. The soul on its separation from the body will depart to join the "Aether". But in such conceptions it is not always the imagination of the philosopher-poet that finds expression. On this subject it is accompanied or replaced by a more popular view that only distantly resembles it, but which led to the same result. When we hear now and again of the Aether, the luminous atmosphere above the clouds, as being the _dwelling place_ of the departed souls,[146\12] the view--more theological than philosophic in its character--seems to be implied that after death the liberated soul will float upwards to the seat of the gods[147\12] which has long ceased to be situated upon Olympos, but is in "heaven" or in this same Aether. This, too, was the meaning of a saying traditionally ascribed to Epicharmos the comic-poet of Sicily who was himself versed in philosophy. In this saying the pious man is assured that for him death will bring no evil for his "mind" will dwell permanently in "heaven".[148\12] This conception, which appears so frequently in later epitaphs, {437} must have been familiar to popular imagination at Athens at an early period; at least in the grave-epigram officially dedicated by the state to the memory of the Athenians who fell in the year 432 before Poteidaia, we find the belief expressed (as a commonly received opinion) that the souls of these brave men have been received by the "Aether" just as the earth has received their bodies.[149\12] Such official use implies a commonly accepted opinion and the fundamental ideas of the popular cult of the souls might have led to similar results. From the beginning popular belief had regarded the psyche, which got its name from the air or breath, as closely akin to the winds, the mobile air and its spirits. It would not be difficult for the idea to arise that the soul, as soon as it was free to decide for itself what should become of it, should go to join the elemental spirits that are its kinsfolk. Perhaps this, too, is what Epicharmos means when on another occasion he says that in death when the united are parted asunder each returns whence it came, the body to earth, but the soul up to the heights--its name, in which allusion is made to its perpetual mobility, being now after the example of Xenophanes derived from the breath of the wind, the moving air (~pneu=ma~), a usage which became very common in later times.[150\12]

But perhaps the use of such a name is an indication that this poet also regards the soul as standing in a close relation and kinship with the Aether that is destined to receive it after its release from the body; so that from this side, too[151\12]--in addition to the more popular conception just mentioned--Euripides may have received a hint for his peculiar version of the physiological theory of Diogenes. In his view the soul participates in the nature of the Aether. But it is more important to notice that the Aether participates in the nature and true reality of the soul; it possesses life, consciousness and power of thought. They both belong to one family. The Aether according to the poet--and here the speculations of Anaximenes as revived by Diogenes are unmistakable[152\12]--is a true vital atmosphere, an all-embracing psychic element, so that it becomes, not a mere vehicle of mind, but the All-Mind itself. The concept is even condensed and half-personified, it is called by the name of the highest divine power, Zeus,[153\12] and the poet as though speaking of a personal god, calls it "immortal".[154\12] The human mind, too, as akin to the universal god and the All-Mind, appears, as it had been in the teaching of Diogenes,[155\12] as a part of this God, this universal Mind. God is the mind, and the mind and understanding in us is God--so the poet clearly asserts.[156\12] In death, when {438} the separation of the mind from its earthly elements takes place, the Pneuma of man will "not indeed live", as it had done in the separate existence of the individual man, but it will "preserve an immortal consciousness", entering into the immortal Aether and fusing itself with the All-living and the All-thinking.[157\12] None of the physiologists who conceived the same idea of an immortality excluding the personal immortality of the individual, of the universal spirit of life in mankind, has expressed his meaning with such distinctness as this philosophic layman.

The poet may have wished to remain permanently upon the sublime heights of this Pantheistic vision; but he must, in his peculiar all-embracing spirit that never held fast to any one view with enduring persistence, have experienced too often the truth of the saying of Protagoras that every statement calls forth its equally legitimate opposite,[158\12] to have become an unswerving adherent of any single opinion. Death, and whatever may reveal itself after death, is beyond the experience of any man.[159\12] It may be that complete disappearance into nothingness follows death; that the dead man becomes simply nothing.[160\12] It may be that in the permanence of the human race the great name and the renown of glorious deeds lives on undying.[161\12] Whether there may remain besides a vestige of life in a spirit world, who can tell? Perhaps such a thing is hardly even to be wished.[162\12] It is just what makes death such a comforting thing, that it puts an end to all feeling and therefore to all pain and every care. We should not lament over our fate if, like the harvests that follow each other in the course of the years, one generation of men after another flowers, fades, and is carried off. So it is ordered in the course of Nature, and we ought not to be dismayed by anything that is rendered inevitable by her laws.[163\12]

NOTES TO CHAPTER XII

[1\12: The learned and more particularly the philosophers of later ages paid special attention to utterances of the older poetry that gave expression to belief of a spiritualist tendency. Just as they selected and preserved passages from Pindar (and from Melanippides in the case soon to be mentioned), which bore witness to an advanced view of the soul, so they must also have given us similar passages from other melic or from iambic and elegiac poets--if such passages had existed. They must, for example, have been absent from the ~thrê=noi~ of Simonides which were famous as the models of this kind of poetry. And so with all the rest.]

[2\12: Hades puts an end to all pleasure for every man; hence the warning that man should enjoy his youth upon earth: Thgn. 973 ff.; cf. 877 f., 1191 ff., 1009 f.; Sol. 24; Thgn. 719 ff.]

[3\12: ~thana/tô| pa/ntes opheilo/metha~--an ancient saying often repeated; cf. Bergk on Simon. 122, 2; Nauck on Soph., _El._ 1173 [Blaydes ad loc.].]

[4\12: Hades himself plays the part of Thanatos and carries off the souls to the lower world. Thus as early as Semon. i, 13 f., ~tou\s d' A/rei dedême/nous pe/mpei melai/nês Aï/dês hupo\ chthono/s~. In metaphorical language ~Ha/idês~ for ~tha/natos~ is quite regular from the time of Pindar onwards. This, in turn, lent support to the use of the name of ~Ha/idês~ instead of the _personified_ ~Tha/natos~. So esp. in Pi., _O._ ix, 33-5; cf. besides, _Epigr. Gr._ 89, 3-4. ~to/nde . . . ma/rpsas Ha/idês hoi skoti/as amphe/balen pte/rugas~; cf. 201, 2; 252, 1-2. (And therefore in Eur., _Alc._ 261, we should not alter the ~pterôto\s Ha/idas~ who is named instead of Thanatos--not even in favour of the otherwise ingenious ~ble/pôn . . . ha/|dan~.)]

[5\12: ~dêro\n e/nerthen gê=s ole/sas psuchê\n kei/somai hô/ste li/thos a/phthoggos~ Thgn. 567 f.--the condition of things in Hades is regarded exactly as in the Homeric pictures: Thgn. 704-10.]

[6\12: See esp. Sol. 13, 29 ff.: Thgn. 731-42; 205 ff.]

[7\12: Mimn. ii, 13: ~a/llos d' hau= pai/dôn epideu/etai, hô=nte ma/lista himei/rôn kata\ gê=s e/rchetai eis Aï/dên~. Without children there can be no assurance that the cult of the soul will be carried on. But we may well believe that the attaching of so much importance to offspring was assisted by the natural human belief that the man who left children behind him on earth did not completely perish in death (hence ~aeigene/s esti kai\ atha/naton hôs thnêtô=| hê ge/nnêsis~ as in Plato, _Smp._ 206 E). This alone gives a meaning and a reason for the widespread belief among the Greeks that the wicked man who is punished after his death in his children and children's children himself feels that punishment.]

[8\12: Semon. 1; 3. Mimn. 2. Sol. 13, 63 ff.; 14. Thgn. 167 f.; 425 ff. We may also add here the expressions of resignation, Hdt. vii, 46; i, 31.]

[9\12: ~Nukto\s tha/lamos~ [Ion] _fr._ 8, 2.]

[10\12: On the story of Midas and Silenos see _Griech. Roman_, p. 204 f. As to the ancient and often repeated maxim ~archê\n~ (or ~pa/ntôn) me\n mê\ phu=nai epichthoni/oisin a/riston ktl.~, see Bgk., _Opusc._ ii, 214; _PLG^4. ii, p. 155 f. Nietzsche, _Rh. Mus._ xxviii, 212 ff. (whose view that the {440} beginning ~archê\n . . .~ is old and original--but not his involved explanation of this--has been fully confirmed by the finding of the primitive form of the ~agô/n~: Mahaffy, _On the Flinders Petrie Papyri_, i, p. 70).]

[11\12: Simon, _fr._ 39; 38.]

[12\12: _fr._ 137.--Usener, _Götternamen_, 229, 13, says of Sappho that "she was possessed by the belief that as a poetess she would live again after her death among the gods, and would therefore become a _heroine_; see _frr._ 68 and 136". But from these fragments of Sappho no such belief can be extracted without first reading into them a good deal that they do not say.]

[13\12: Of the man who has fallen in glory on the battlefield Tyrtaios says, 12, 31 f.: ~oude/ pote kle/os esthlo\n apo/llutai oud' o/nom' au/tou=, all' hupo\ gê=s per eô\n gi/gnetai _atha/natos_~ (i.e. in renown upon earth). Thgn. says to his Kyrnos, 243 ff., in your lifetime my songs will make you famous ~kai\ ho/tan dnopherê=s hupo\ keu/thesi gai/ês bê=|s polukôku/tous eis Ai/dao do/mous, oude/pot' oude\ thanô\n apolei=s kle/os alla\ melê/seis a/phthiton anthrô/pois aie\n e/chôn o/noma . . .~ cf. Aesch., _Epigr._ iii, 3 (241 Bgk. = 449 Di.), ~zôo\n de\ phthime/nôn pe/letai kle/os~.]

[14\12: Even in Hades the dead perceive ~chthoni/a| phreni/~ if they themselves or the ~aretai/~ of their descendants upon earth are praised: Pi., _P._ v, 98: cf. _O._ viii, 81 ff.; xiv, 20 ff.; [Ion] _Anth. Pal._ vii, 43, 3 (to Eurip.), ~i/sthi d' hupo\ chthono\s ô/n, ho/ti soi kle/os a/phthiton e/stai ktl.~--In the expressions collected by Meuss, _Jahrb. f. Philol._ 1889, p. 812 f., from the fourth century orators there only remains a very faint recollection of such a belief.]

[15\12: Semon. 2, ~tou= me\n thano/ntos ouk a\n enthumoi/metha, ei/ ti phronoi=men, plei=on hême/rês miê=s~.--Stes. 51, ~atele/stata ga\r kai\ ama/chana tou\s thano/ntas klai/ein~. 52, ~thano/ntos andro\s pa=s' apo/llutai pot' anthrô/pôn cha/ris~.]

[16\12: This emerges at once if we review the material collected by H. Meuss upon "the conceptions appearing in the Attic orators of existence after death": _Jahrb. f. Philol._ 1889, pp. 801-15. For the cult of the soul and all that attaches to it the orators are our most authoritative witnesses and as such are frequently examined in the sections of this book that deal with the subject.]

[17\12: ~_ei/_ tines tô=n teteleutêko/tôn la/boien _tro/pô| tini\_ tou= nu=n gignome/nou pra/gmatos ai/sthêsin~ and frequently in this style: cf. the passages quoted by Westermann on D., _Lept._ (20), 87; cf. also Lehrs, _Pop. Aufs._ 329 ff. The question is always whether the dead are capable in any way of apprehending what goes on in this world. The continued life of the dead is never doubtful but rather implied throughout, for without such implication no possibility whatever would be left for that ~ei~--.]

[18\12: See Nägelsbach, _Nachhom. Theol._ 420. Meuss, p. 812.]

[19\12: This is well brought out by Lehrs, _Pop. Aufs._ 331. But the statement holds good in an even more precise and exclusive sense than he there gives it. The words of Hyper., _Epit._ xiii, § 39, deal simply with the existence in Hades of those who have died for their country (with some traditional embellishments; see above, chap. vii, n. 5)--this much can hardly ever have been expressly doubted or denied by any orator. But it is wrong to say (as Lehrs does: p. 331) that Hyp. expresses, though in other words, what was afterwards laid down by [D.H.] _Rhet._ vi, 5, as proper "for such funeral speeches" (no, only for _private_ funerals--which is quite another matter). It is true that the advice there given is to say that the soul is _~atha/natos~_ and now dwells {441} "with the gods". But it never enters into the head of Hyp. to say any such thing (nor in the frag. of the speech preserved by Stob., _Fl._ 124, 36). In fact, the precept of this sophistic writer (still more the advice given by Men. Rhet., _de Encom._ 414, 16 ff.; 421, 16 ff. Sp.) rather reveals the enormous contrast between the style of the sophistic funeral oratory of a later period and the real characteristics of the old Attic funeral orations: a difference founded upon the difference of sentiment manifested by the public that listened to such speeches in two different ages. Even the statements of [Dem.] _Epit._ (60) 34 (~pa/redroi toi=s ka/tô theoi=s~ together with the ~agathoi\ a/ndres~ of earlier times ~en maka/rôn nê/sois~) betray sophistic colouring though falling far short of the excesses of Ps.-D.H. and Men. Rhet.]

[20\12: The only thing ~ agê/rantos~ about those who have fallen in the wars of freedom is their ~eulogi/ê~ Simon. 100, 4; cf. 106, 4 (with Bgk.'s note). 99, 3-4 ~oude\ tethna=si thano/ntes epei/ sph' aretê\ kathu/perthen kudai/nous' ana/gei dô/matos ex Aï/deô~ (which is imitated in the epitaph of Thrasymachos the Kretan ~oude\ thanô\n areta=s o/num' ôle/sas, alla\ se Pha/ma kudai/nous' ana/gei dô/matos ex Aï/da~, _BCH._ 1889, p. 60).]

[21\12: ~klu=thi/ moi ô= pa/ter, thau=ma brotô=n, ta=s aeizô/ou mede/ôn psucha=s~, Melanipp. 6. The words ~thau=ma brotô=n~ (modelled on the ~thau=ma brotoi=si~ of Homer) can refer only to Dionysos (of the gods who enter into the question here): ~Diô/nusos, cha/rma brotoi=sin~, ~X~ 325. Further, it is natural to think of Dionysos in the work of a dithyrambic poet.]

[22\12: The dead man ~amph' Ache/ronti naieta/ôn~, Pi., _N._ iv, 85. This is the general assumption: e.g. _P._ xi, 19-22; _O._ ix, 33-5; _I._ viii, 59 f.; _fr._ 207 Bgk.]

[23\12: ~e/sti de\ kai/ ti thano/ntessin me/ros ka\n no/mon erdo/menon; katakru/ptei d' ou ko/nis suggo/nôn kedna\n cha/rin~, _O._ viii, 77 ff.]

[24\12: Something of the kind is adopted for the moment, e.g. in _O._ xiv, 20 ff.; viii, 81 ff. A real belief in such a possibility appears perhaps most clearly in _P._ v, 98 ff.]

[25\12: For him who dies fighting for his country there is in store--not blessedness but only Fame, _I._ vii, 26 ff. He who comes ~kala\ e/rxais aoida=s a/ter eis Aï/da stathmo/n~ has little reward for his pains (his reward would, in fact, have been just the praise given in the ~aoida/~), _O._ x, 91 ff., cf. _N._ vii, 30-2.]

[26\12: A strange expression is the ~dai/môn gene/thlios~ of _O._ xiii, 105 (in the same poem we also have ~Xenophô=ntos dai/môn~ 28, which in this case at least is something more than "destiny", otherwise the normal meaning of ~dai/môn~ in Pindar, cf. _P._ v, 123, _I._ vii, 43). It almost seems as if it were intended to describe the ancestor spirit that brings good luck to the house like the _genius generis_ or ~hê/rôs suggenei/as~ (see above, chap. v, n. 132).]

[27\12: Amphiaraos, _O._ vi, 14; _N._ ix, 24 ff.; x, 8 f. (Amph. from his underground cavern sees the fighting in the war of the Epigonoi, _P._ viii, 39-56. There is no suggestion that the ~Epi/gonoi~ inquire at his oracle--as Dissen supposes; with this the ~hô=d' eipe _marname/nôn_~ 43 is inconsistent.)--Ganymedes translated to eternal life, _O._ i, 44; x, 104 f. Apart from this there are temporary translations to the gods or from one place on earth to another, _O._ i, 36 ff.; ix, 59; _P._ ix, 5ff.; _I._ viii, 20 f.]

[28\12: _O._ ii, 27 ff.]

[29\12: ~alla/ ti prosphe/romen e/mpan ê\ me/gan no/on ê/toi phu/sin athana/tois~, _N._ vi, 4 f.]

[30\12: ~skia=s o/nar a/nthrôpos~, _P._ viii, 95. ~he\n andrô=n he\n theô=n ge/nos, ek mia=s de\ pne/omen matro\s ampho/teroi; diei/rgei de\ pa=sa kekrime/na du/namis, {442} hôs to\ me\n oude/n, ho de\ chalkeos asphale\s aie\n he/dos me/nei ourano/s~, _N._ vi, 1 ff.]

[31\12: _fr._ 131 Bgk.]

[32\12: Pindar in these lines speaks only of the ~aiô=nos ei/dôlon~; but that by this he means the ~psuchê/~ is obvious in itself and is stated by Plutarch, who preserves the lines, _Cons. ad Apoll._ 35, p. 120 D (~peri\ psuchê=s le/gôn~; cf. _Rom._ 28).--~psuchê/~ in Pindar sometimes stands for what is otherwise called ~kardi/a~ or ~phrê/n~, "heart" or "disposition" e.g. _P._ i, 48; iv, 122; _N._ ix, 39; _I._ iv, 53b, and _O._ ii, 77, and prob. also _P._ iii, 41; "disposition," _N._ ix, 32. The word is sometimes (as in Homer) equivalent to ~zôê/~, _P._ iii, 101, ~psucha\n lipô/n~. It simultaneously = "life" and the _alter ego_ dwelling within the living man, _O._ viii, ~psucha\s ba/lon~; cf. _N._ i, 47. But the poet knows also the full meaning of ~psucha/~ in the older idiom and belief. Entirely in the manner of Homeric usage ~psucha/~ denotes the spiritual double of mankind, which survives the man himself, in those instances where the ~psuchê/~ of the dead is said to be still in existence: ~psucha\n komi/xai~, _P._ iv, 159; _N._ viii, 44 f.; ~su\n Agamemnoni/a| psucha=|~ (is Kassandra sent into Hades), _P._ xi, 20 f. Persephone ~anadidoi= psucha\s pa/lin~ (out of Hades), _fr._ 133, 3 (Bgk.); _I._ i, 68, ~psucha\n Aï/da| tele/ôn~ (in death).--~psuchai/~ is also used in the old idiomatic sense in _fr._ 132, 1: which is, however, spurious.--~psucha/~ in Pindar never denotes the psychical powers of the living man inclusive of the intellect, much less the intellect, ~nou=s~, alone.]

[33\12: ~kai\ sô=ma me\n pa/ntôn he/petai thana/tô| peristhenei=, zô=on d' e/ti lei/petai aiô=nos ei/dôlon; to\ _ga\r_ esti mo/non ek theô=n~, _fr._ 131 (96 Boeckh).]

[34\12: ~oi=si de\ Phersepho/na poina\n palaiou= pe/ntheos de/xetai~--_fr._ 133. What is meant is undoubtedly the ancient "guilt" of the soul for which Perseph. receives satisfaction. This guilt can only be called a ~pe/nthos~ if she who accepts the satisfaction is regarded as herself grief-stricken by the guilty dead; if, in fact, the deed has been the occasion of mourning for Persephone. That this can apply to the goddess of the underworld is startling, but it cannot be got rid of by artificial interpretation (as Dissen would like to get rid of it). Pindar follows throughout the analogy of the ancient procedure of expiation in the case of blood-guiltiness. But this procedure seems to be familiar with the idea that, apart from the ~agchistei/a~ of the murdered man, the underworld gods themselves (as guardians of the Souls) are immediately injured by the deed and stricken by grief and must receive satisfaction on their own account. Hence in certain legends (typificatory of ritual) the murderer not only has to fly from the land but to undergo servitude to the ~chtho/nioi~: Apollo, especially after the slaying of Python, has to serve ~A/dmêtos~, i.e. Hades for an _ennaëteris_ (more on this subject below, n. 40). Thus, the guilty soul banished from its proper home serves a "great year" under Persephone, and this is the ~poina/~ that it pays.]

[35\12: _O._ ii, 63-5. Everything here refers to judgment and compensation _in Hades_. In the words ~thano/ntôn me\n entha/d' auti/k' apa/lamnoi phre/nes poina\s e/tisan~ the ~entha/de~ cannot possibly belong to the ~poina\s e/tisan~, as Aristarchos supposed, so that the words should refer to the punishment in the course of a new birth upon _earth_ of crimes committed in Hades (in itself a remarkable conception). ~thano/ntes~ alone would not be put for ~thano/ntes _kai\ anabebiôko/tes_~, and we can only understand by the word those who after a life-time upon earth have died and are now spending their time below in the underworld. Moreover, it is hardly likely (as Ty. Mommsen reminds us _adnot. crit. ad Olymp._ 24) that the exposition of the "knowledge of the future" (62) on the part of {443} a man still living upon earth would begin with what may happen to man, not after his death, but in a second appearance upon earth that is to fall to his lot later on. We must first of all be told what happens after the conclusion of the present condition of life, viz. that upon earth. Finally, the use of ~auti/ka~ is quite satisfactory if it refers to the judgment in Hades that follows immediately after death; while it is meaningless in Aristarchos' interpretation (hence Rauchenstein writes ~au=tis~--a mere conjecture and a superfluous one). The view that the ~me\n--de/~ of 63-4 necessitates Aristarchos' explanation is not convincing (as Lübbert thinks, _Ind. Schol. Bonn. hib._ 1887, p. xviii--incidentally he quite unjustifiably introduces specifically Platonic fancies into Pindar, p. xix). The ~thano/ntôn me/n~ of 63 is not answered till ~ho/soi d' eto/lmasan . . .~ 75, just as the ~auti/ka~ of 63 does not receive its contrast till we come to what happens much later--after the life on earth has been thrice repeated--described in 75 ff. The ~de/~ of 64 and 67 are subordinate (not adversative) to what is introduced by the ~me/n~ of 63 and they continue the thought. The ~entha/de~ of 63 might indeed, in accordance with an otherwise correct usage, be connected with ~apa/lamnoi phre/nes~, as it is by one of the Scholiasts: "the ~phre/nes~ which have committed crimes here upon earth." But ~apa/lamnos~ does not mean _sceleratus_, _impius_ (nor does it in the passages adduced for this meaning by Zacher, _Diss. Halens._ iii, 237: Thgn. 281; Sim. v, 3). The ~apa/lamnoi phre/nes~ are simply equivalent to the ~amenêna\ ka/rêna~ of Homer, and are a very suitable expression for the ~psuchai/~ of the dead (though not indeed for the ~psuchai/~ of the reborn as Aristarchos would have it). No alternative remains save to connect ~thano/ntôn~ and ~entha/de~: simulac mortui sunt hic, s. decedunt hinc (Dissen). The sentence ~ta\ d' en ta=|de . . .~ must then either be a more exact description of what has been stated generally just before in ~poina\s e/tisan~ (and this is Mommsen's view supported by one Schol.), or else be subordinated--together with its contrasted ~i/sais de\ . . .~ 67 ff.--to ~poina\s e/tisan~. ~poina/~ in Pindar means regularly compensation, whether expiation for evil deeds or reward for good (cf. _P._ i, 59; _N._ i, 70b). If we might suppose that by a brachylogy not beyond possibility in Pindar ~poina\s e/tisan~ is put for ~poina\s e/tisan kai\ ede/xanto~, then the sense might be: after death the souls receive at once recompense for their actions--and _then_ follows the division of the bad 64 ff., and the good 67 ff. But we may perhaps rest content with Mommsen's explanation.]

[36\12: _O._ ii, 74.]

[37\12: Plu., _de Lat. Viv._ 7, p. 1130 C after citing the lines of Pindar _fr._ 130 (95) adds: (the rivers of Erebos) ~decho/menoi kai\ apokru/ptontes agnoi/a| kai\ lê/thê| tou\s koazome/nous~. This _might_ possibly be an addition made by Plu. on his own account--he had frequently spoken of ~eis a/gnoian auto\n embalei=n~, etc., in his war against the Epicurean ~la/the biô/sas~ and here the same thing appears again from Erebos. But the words are more probably a paraphrase from Pindar. At any rate, what is said in Plu. about the ~_mnê=mai_ kai\ lo/goi~ of the ~eusebei=s~ in clear contrast with the _~lê/thê~_ of the ~asebei=s~, comes from Pindar: this is shown by the allusions of Aristid. i, p. 146, 1 Dind. From this parallel it is also clearly proved that the ~lê/thê~ does not refer (as Lehrs, _Pop. Aufs._ 313 thinks) to the forgetfulness of the ~kolazo/menoi~ in the minds of the living, but forgetfulness of their previous life by the ~kolazo/menoi~ themselves. Accordingly we are to suppose that Pindar assigns retention of memory and complete consciousness only to the good in Hades, as their special privilege (cf. the position of Teiresias in ~k~ 494), while the punishment {444} of the wicked is enhanced by ~lê/thê~ (cf. above, chap. vii, n. 21 ). Not to have fallen a victim to ~lê/thê~ in Hades--not to have drunk the waters of Lethe--is occasionally alluded to in poetico-religious utterances of later times as a special privilege of the good, e.g. _Epigr. Gr._ 204, 11 (first century B.C.); 414, 10. ~Lê/thês~ and ~Mnêmosu/nês pê/gê~ in Hades (as in the sanctuary of Trophonios at Lebadea, Paus. 9, 39, 8); _Epigr._ 1037 (cf. above, chap. vii, n. 21; chap. xi, n. 96; and see also below).]

[38\12: ~toi=si la/mpei me/n me/nos aeli/ou ta\n entha/de nu/kta ka/tô~ _fr._ 129. In this naive conception, what Helios only threatens to do in Homer, ~du/somai eis Aï/dao kai\ en neku/essi phaei/nô~, he does in reality and regularly during the earthly night. The same idea must be referred to in _O._ ii, 61 ff., ~i/son de\ nu/ktessin aiei\ i/son en hame/rais ha/lion e/chontes~ (so Boeckh)--the ~esthloi/~ live in the ~chô=ros eusebô=n~ in Hades: they have by night and day the same sun (as we: the ~apone/steron~ of 62 also implies this), that is to say, just as much of the sun as we have on earth only in reverse order of time. The sun only shines upon the ~eusebei=s~ below; ~mo/nois ga\r hêmi=n hê/lios kai\ phe/ggos hilaro/n esti~ sing the initiated in Hades in Ar., _Ran._ 454 f. (but it is the _same_ sun which shines upon them as shines on us, ~phô=s ka/lliston hô/sper entha/de~ 155. solemque suum sua sidera norunt is a subtlety of later excogitation). Helios shining by night in Hades occurs again in the late Greek Hymn ~eis Hê/lion~ (_Orph._, p. 291 Ab.), v, 11, ~ê\n gai/ês keuthmô=na mo/lê|s neku/ôn t' epi\ chô=ron~. _Epigr. Gr._ 228b, 7-8, ~Lêtogene/s, su\ de\ pai=das en hêrô/essi phula/ssois, _eusebe/ôn aei\ chô=ron epercho/menos_~.]

[39\12: _O._ ii, 75 ff.]

[40\12: _fr._ 133 ~ena/tô| e/teï~. What is meant is beyond all question "after the expiration of an _ennaëteris_" (period of 99 months, i.e. 8 years and 3 intercalary months), a period which besides being familiar as a cycle of religious festivals (Apolline specially but not exclusively) also occurs in the ancient procedure of atonement for murder as the period of self-banishment and servitude in a foreign land undergone by the murderer. Apollo after slaying Python serves ~me/gan eis eniauto/n~ (i.e. an ennaëteris) in the house of Admetos (i.e. the god of the lower world) and then returns purified (Müller, _Dorians_, i, 338); in the same way Herakles serves Eurystheus (at least a trace of this is found in [Apollod.] 2, 5, 11, 1; see Müller, _Dorians_, i, 445).--After the murder of Iphitos Herakles has to serve as bondsman to Omphale (peculiar in this case is the combination of this species of atonement for murder with the buying-off of the relatives of the murdered man [Apollod.] 2, 6, 2, 5; D.S. 4, 31, 5). At the end of this period of service he is once more "pure" (~hagno\s ê=n~ S., _Trach._ 258).--Kadmos after slaying the dragon and the ~Spartoi/~ serves Ares (the chthonic?) for an ~eniauto/s~ of eight years [Apollod.] 3, 4, 2, 1; Müller, _Orchomen._ 213.--Hippotes after the murder of Mantis has to fly the country ~de/ka e/tê~ [Apollod.] 2, 8, 3, 3.--On the analogy of this custom the gods, too, who have broken an oath sworn by the Styx are banished nine years from the rest of the Olympians (and confined to Hades, since menial service of the ~chtho/nioi~ is the essential idea of all such ~apeniautismo/s~), Hes., _Th._ 793 ff.: Orph. _fr._ 157. With a reminiscence of this expiatory banishment Pindar makes the souls at the conclusion of their earthly pilgrimage (which is itself a banishment) undergo a final period of penance in Hades for an ennaëteris, at the end of which the ~poinê/~ for the ancient crime is regarded as completely paid off.--The life on earth and the period in Hades which follows is regarded as an exile of the souls (on account of serious crime).--Such an idea was most natural if the real home of the soul was thought of as being {445} a divine (not earthly) country; the idea occurs quite clearly in Empedokles (certainly uninfluenced by the brief allusions of Pindar); see above, chap. xi, n. 75.]

[41\12: _fr._ 133. The similarity to the promises made by Emped. _fr._ 146 (457 f.) is immediately apparent, but is not to be explained by imitation of Pindar by Emped., but simply by the similarity of imaginative outlook which led to similar results in the two cases.--Elevation to the rank of Hero is the reward which next awaits the man who is born a king, according to this view. Very remarkable is the manner in which Pindar, _O._ ii, 58-62, effects the transition to his eschatological statement: the man who possesses ~plou=tos aretai=s dedaidalme/nos~ knows the future, viz, what we are then told about the fate of the soul hereafter. This assertion, which seems to attribute to the virtuous Great Man at once a higher and a profounder knowledge, is perhaps best explained by the allusions of _fr._ 133. He who has reached this highest stage of earthly happiness must deduce from that very circumstance that for him now it is fated after another death to become a Hero. He therefore knows that everything, indeed, happens that is related in ll. 63-74, but that before him in particular lies that which follows in ll. 75 ff.; and this is to be regarded as the real import of what the man in question "knows", 62, while the rest, 63-74, is only added for the sake of completeness. Theron, therefore--for it is he who is alluded to throughout--may be assured beforehand that after death he will be gathered to the Heroes. This is what Pindar means to say here, or at least to give the ~sunetoi/~ to understand 91 ff. As a matter of historical fact Theron was worshipped with ~hêrôïkai\ timai/~ after his death, D.S. xi, 53, 2.]

[42\12: _fr._ 133. There is according to Dissen a contradiction between _fr._ 133 and _O._ ii, 75 ff.: in the latter three periods of life on earth are necessary before the final departure, in _fr._ 133 only two. This variation would be got rid of if we could adopt the interpretation given by Ty. Mommsen, _adnot. crit. Olymp._ 30, and assert that in _O._ ii also Pindar only speaks of two earthly lives with a single residence in Hades intervening. But the words ~es tri\s hekate/rôthi mei/nantes~, 75-6, can hardly bear any other interpretation than "three times on each of the two sides" (not: "on both sides--once on that side, twice on this side: total three times"). At the same time there is nothing in _fr._ 133 to prevent us taking the same number of lives (three as a minimum) to be implied there too. We are not there told that the birth as kings, etc., must always be the one to follow the first birth: in this case also two earlier lives may have gone before.]

[43\12: See above, chap. iv, § 8.]

[44\12: ~e/teilan Dio\s hodo\n para\ Kro/nou tu/rsin~, _O._ ii, 77. What exactly is to be understood by the "way of Zeus" was presumably clearer to the ~sunetoi/~ versed in the mythology of mysticism for whom Pindar is here writing, than it is to us. It must mean (as Boeckh supposes) the way which Zeus treads in order to reach that Island, far to the West in Okeanos, inaccessible as the Land of the Hyperboreans to ship or traveller on foot; it is a special ~athana/tôn hodo/s~ like that which leads to Homer's grotto of the Nymphs, ~n~ 112. Acc. to Bergk, _Opusc._ ii, 708, it is "certain" that Pindar means the Milky Way. Along this the gods travel to the house of Zeus, Ovid, _M._ i, 168; and Orpheus in the same way _fr._ 123, 17 Ab., speaks of the ~theô=n hodoi\ ouraniô/nôn~ in the heavens. But the souls could only be made to travel along the Milky Way if their habitation was placed in the sky as it often was later. So, as Bergk points out, following Lob., _Agl._ 935, {446} the Empedotimos of Herakld. Pont. calls the Milky Way ~hodo\s psuchô=n tô=n ha=|dên to\n en oura/nô| diaporeuome/nôn~ ap. Philop. in Arist., _Mete._, p. 117, 10 Hayd.; see above, chap. ix, n. 111. But Pindar situates his ~maka/rôn nê=sos~ in the Ocean (78): it is difficult to see how the souls could arrive there on the Milky Way from the place where they find themselves after death. (We may surely acquit Pindar of the later fancies about an Okeanos in the heavens.) Q.S. iii, 761 ff. (cited by Tafel) knows of a special way belonging to the gods which leads from heaven down to the ~Êlu/sion pedi/on~. But the way by which the souls reach the ~maka/rôn nê=sos~ does not, like that way, begin in heaven. We should rather think of some way only passable for gods and spirits leading from the inhabited world over the pathless Ocean to the latter's "sources" far in the West.]

[45\12: In _O._ ii, 84-5, it is certainly Kronos who is meant (as Didymos took it, though he gave an absurd interpretation of the passage) and not Zeus as Aristarchos imagined. The exceedingly corrupt and (owing to the intrusion of glosses) unmetrical lines are beyond certain restoration: the emendations of the Byzantine scholars give the required sense.--What happened to the incorrigibly wicked? In accordance with the theory of the soul's Transmigration two alternative views as to their fate were possible: they might be regarded as passing from body to body unceasingly (Empedokl.) or as doing penance by suffering eternal punishment in Hell (as with Plato and others). The circumstances in which he alludes to these matters do not give Pindar any special occasion to declare himself for either view. He has only to speak of the final condition of the just; the fate of the ~asebei=s~ is left in semi-obscurity. Something about the matter is, however, said in _fr._ 132; ~psuchai\ asebe/ôn~ hover under the vault of heaven that covers the earth (~gai/a|~ either corrupt or grammatically bad Greek), while the pious above the vault of heaven (~epoura/nioi~) sing to the "Great Blessed One". Everything in this is un-Pindaric, the inadequacy and even incorrectness of the language (~molpai=s en hu/mnois~), the unconcealed monotheism of the phrase ~ma/kara me/gan~, the conception of the souls as having nothing else to do than sing to the One God, the whole idea that these blessed ones dwell "in heaven". This last is an idea familiar to Greeks of a later period, nor is the division of souls into ~hupoura/nioi~ and ~epoura/nioi~ unknown to them; cf. _Epigr. Gr._ 650, 9 ff. But Pindar cannot have written anything of the kind. It is even doubtful whether Clem. Al. who, _Str._ iv, 640 P., names as the author of the lines ~to\n melopoio/n~, meant Pindar by the words: Theodoret. (_Gr. Aff. C._ viii, 599 C), who attributes the second half of the frag. to Pindar, had no other source but the same Clem. Al. But it may be doubted whether the whole is to be attributed to any Greek of the older faith. It has quite the appearance, as Zeller, _Socr. and Socratics_, p. 24, n. 3, strikingly suggests, of one of those _Jewish_ forgeries in which Jewish monotheism and the ideas connected with it were to be fathered upon Greek antiquity. Welcker, _Kl. Schr._ v, 252 ff.; Götterl._ i, 741 f., defends the _fr._ (and most unconvincingly connects the ~psuchai\ hupoura/nioi~ and ~epoura/nioi~ of the _fr._ with the quite different ~dai/mones epichtho/nioi~ and ~hupochtho/nioi~ of Hes., _Op._ 123 and 141). He thinks he can defend the genuineness of the lines (which had already been declared spurious by Dissen) by pointing to the words of Horace about Pindar's ~thrê=noi~ (_O._ iv, 2, 21): flebili sponsae iuvenem raptum plorat, et vires animumque moresque aureos educit in astra nigroque invidet Orco. Even supposing that this referred to the transport of the souls to the stars the witness of Horace thus given would only {447} remove a single difficulty from a passage that has other overwhelming difficulties in profusion. But Horace says nothing of the transport of the "Soul" to the heavenly regions, _vires_, _animus_, _mores_, all these together refer not at all to the ~psuchê/~ but to the ~ê=thos~ and the ~aretai/~ of the dead. Pindar, Horace means, rescues the memory of the nature and merits of the youth from decay: only the fame which the poet secures for him is under discussion. _educit in astra_ and _invidet Orco_ mean nothing more than: he rescues the memory of the dead from oblivion, exactly as in the epitaph quoted above, n. 20: ~houde\ thanô\n areta=s o/num' ô/lesas alla/ se Pha/ma kudai/nous' ana/gei dô/matos ex Aï/da~. Thus, it is least of all to be concluded from Horace's words that Pindar transported the souls of the ~eusebei=s~ into the heavens (rather that in the ~thrê=noi~--as much as anywhere else: see above, n. 25--Pindar sometimes only recognizes the immortality of fame: of that alone does Horace speak).]