Transcript
K. F. B. FLETCHER
Classical Antiquity. Vol. 27, Issue 1, pp. 59–91. ISSN 0278-6656(p); 1067-8344 (e).
Copyright © 2008 by The Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Please
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DOI:10.1525/CA.2008.27.1.59.
Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus’
Bibliotheca and the Exclusion of
Rome from Greek Myth
Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca is often used, though little studied. Like any author, however,
Apollodorus has his own aims. As scholars have noticed, he does not include any discussion of
Rome and rarely mentions Italy, an absence they link to tendencies of the Second Sophistic,
during which period he was writing. I refine this view by exploring the nature of Apollodorus’
project as a whole, showing that he creates a system of genealogies that connects Greece
with other places and peoples of the ancient world, specifically the Near East. The nature of
the Bibliotheca allows us to see these myths as a closed system, in which these genealogical
connections depend upon the perceived importance of these peoples; e.g. the Persians have more
connections with the Greeks than the Molossians do. It is from this system that Apollodorus
excludes Rome, thereby denying the Romans any genealogical connections with the Greeks and
thus marking them as being of little importance. The consciousness of Apollodorus’ decisions
is clear from the many opportunities he had to include Rome and the fact that his sources
contained myths about Rome or Italy. The Bibliotheca is a tendentious account of Greek myth
with its own goals, and our knowledge of Apollodorus’ aims must condition any use of this text.
Because we know so little about it, Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca often seems to
take on a timeless, canonical quality, as if it were something not to be questioned,
and scholars often use it accordingly. The text’s most famous student, Sir James
Frazer, exemplifies this attitude: “[Apollodorus’] book possesses documentary
value as an accurate record of what the Greeks in general believed about the
origin and early history of the world and of their race.”1 While few scholars today
I express here my thanks to Jay Reed, Benjamin Acosta-Hughes, Derek Collins and Adam Kemezis.
I also owe a debt of gratitude to Mark Griffith, not only for his editorial acumen, but also for finding
two anonymous readers who could contribute so much on the subject of Apollodorus; to them, too, I
give my thanks. All mistakes are, of course, my own.
1. Frazer 1921: xvii. For bibliography on the Bibliotheca, see Huys 1997, Huys and
Colomo 2004, and Huys’ valuable website http://perswww.kuleuven.ac.be/~u0013314/apollodorus
/index.htm.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200860
would so readily accept such an assessment without question, this type of view
still underlies perceptions of the work’s purpose.2 Alan Cameron, for instance,
in a welcome new study of mythography, asserts that “no one would wish to
deny that [the Bibliotheca] is a well-organized, clear exposition of all the main
mythical sagas, deservedly still in use as a basic textbook.”3 While Cameron’s
position is a far cry from Frazer’s, it still privileges Apollodorus and bestows
on this text an authority dependent upon its perceived completeness. That the
Bibliotheca is useful is beyond question; that it is a complete account of Greek
myth is not.
Despite the seeming dogmatism of his statement, Frazer also noted that
Apollodorus curiously omits the Romans and the West more generally in his
collection.4 About fifty years later, Ewen Bowie remarked on Frazer’s observation
and situated Apollodorus’ choice within the context of Greek responses to Rome
during the Second Sophistic:
Apollodorus’s attitude is not puzzling. It supports rather than conflicts
with a second-century date. Like many other cultured Greeks of his time
the writer liked to forget from time to time the ubiquitous dominance of
Rome, and where better to exercise that amnesia than in a work devoted
to the safely antique and established Greek myths?5
Despite his recognition that Apollodorus’ exclusion of Rome fits within the
cultural milieu of the Bibliotheca, Bowie too falls prey to the same notions
of canonicity by referring to “the safely antique and established Greek myths.”
Conceived of in this way, Apollodorus is indulging an escapist fantasy, treating
a subject that would require him to stay away from Rome. But the issue is
not so simple and my intent here is to show that the omission of the Romans
is not a given (as Bowie seems to suggest) but a conscious decision on the
part of the Bibliotheca’s author and only a part of his systematic approach to
writing myth, which involves the creation of a series of genealogies connecting
Greeks with their Mediterranean neighbors, with more important peoples meriting
more connections.6 This collection of myths is a tendentious account, and an
2. Cf. Jacob 1994: 419: “Mais ce role privilegie de temoin de la tradition mythographique a
pour contrepartie d’appeler une lecture ponctuelle et documentaire, la Bibliotheque d’Apollodore
n’etant plus aujourd’hui qu’une machine a multiplier les notes en bas de pages.”
3. Cameron 2004: 103. Carriere and Massonie 1991: 16, who offer one of the best treatments
of the Bibliotheca, fall into a similar trap.
4. Frazer 1921: xii-xiii.
5. Bowie 1970: 23–24. Cf. Veyne 1999 who argues that many of the trends of the Second
Sophistic are actually much older, and so not specific to this period. Like Bowie, however, he does
see a nostalgia for independence in authors like Apollodorus (534–35). For a more nuanced view
of Greek identity in this period, see Jones 2004.
6. On the unified nature of the Bibliotheca, see Jacob 1994: 420–21 and Scarpi 1999: 2–3,
15–16, Drager 2005: 844–53 (esp. 847–48), and Smith and Trzaskoma 2007: xxxiii-xxxv. Cf.
Kylintirea 2002 (non vidi).
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 61
awareness of Apollodorus’ system of myths and its accompanying goals must
inform our use of it.7
In order to examine Apollodorus’ goals, it is necessary first to address three
things: how the Bibliotheca differs from other mythographic works; its relation
to earlier literature and its sources; and its date. While other Greek mythographers
writing in the Roman period, like Parthenius or Antoninus Liberalis, also include
very little Italian or Roman material (though even they offer much more than
Apollodorus), there is no attempt by such authors to create a narrative account
of Greek myth from creation to the death of Odysseus, as in the Bibliotheca.
Parthenius and Antoninus both offer thematic collections, whereas Apollodorus
focuses on genealogies and thus casts his net more widely, so we should have
different expectations of these different types of work.8 While Apollodorus does
not explicitly exclude Rome—he does not make anti-Roman statements, nor does
he provide any statement of purpose—this exclusion is evident from his creation
of a system of genealogies that connects Greece to much of the Mediterranean
world, but not to Rome.9 This system is what makes Apollodorus unique among
extant mythographers and also what allows us so readily to see what is missing.10
But talking about a work like the Bibliotheca in terms of purpose and intent
may strike some as misguided at best, and absurd at worst, both because of its
simple manner and its possible dependence on earlier works.11 Until recently, most
scholarly interest in the Bibliotheca stemmed from a desire to learn more about
earlier works of Greek literature, especially the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women
and the lost writings of Apollodorus of Athens, especially his On the Gods; both
of these works are often named as the main source of the Bibliotheca. For various
7. It is here that my approach differs from others who have focused on more literary aspects of
the Bibliotheca, most notably Carriere and Massonie 1991, Jacob 1994, and Scarpi 1999.
8. Cf. Cameron 2004: x-xi: “The Bibliotheca is the only comprehensive mythographic
work of its age. Most other mythographers of the Hellenistic and Roman period either have a
specialized purpose of one sort or another (genealogical lists, love stories, stories of metamorphosis
or catasterism); or else they provide mythographic companions to specific texts.” The closest in
terms of general coverage is the Latin Fabulae of Hyginus, though in its present form that work
serves more as a chrestomathy and is not organized as a narrative.
9. I qualify this claim by referring to the epigram that Photius (Bibl. cod. 186.142b) preserves
for a text that must be Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca. Van der Valk 1958: 167–68 and Carriere and
Massonie 1991: 163 n. 2 accept it as genuine, though few editors ever include it, and then only as
a separate section. The epigram suggests completion and the use of the text as a reference, obviating
the need to consult individual texts directly. On this epigram, see now Cameron 1995: 397–99 and
2004: 160–61.
10. On the way genealogical organization marks the Bibliotheca as different from other extant
works of mythography, see Jacob 1994: 421, who also notes that this choice of organization allows
Apollodorus great control over his material and its presentation. Cf. Scarpi 1999: 15–16.
11. On Apollodorus’ sources, see Jourdain-Annequin 1989: 234–40, Kylintirea 2002, Cameron
2004: 93–104, and Drager 2005: 854–86, who separates his discussion into “scheinbaren” and
“wirklichen” sources of the Bibliotheca. For a useful table of his source citations, see Scarpi 1996
(2000): 687–88. Smith and Trzaskoma 2007: xxxvi-vii neatly present the range of possibilities
for Apollodorus’ relation to his sources. I will return to the issue of Apollodorus’ sources when
discussing his exclusion of Italy and Rome.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200862
reasons, however, it is unlikely that the Bibliotheca has such a simple relationship
with any one text: it bears little resemblance to the fragments of Apollodorus
of Athens and is not as closely related to the Hesiodic Catalogue as some argue
(largely to aid their reconstructions of this fragmentary work).12 Perhaps the
most obvious difference between the two works is the matrilineal focus of the
Catalogue and the decidedly patrilineal bent of the Bibliotheca. Thus, even in
the scant fragments of the Catalogue, we have references to women who do not
appear in the Bibliotheca.13 As will become clear, Apollodorus has relatively little
interest in women.
For the present argument, however, a full knowledge of the relationship of
the Bibliotheca to earlier works is not essential. My assumption is that unless
we hypothesize a work that covered all the material the Bibliotheca covers,
Apollodorus undertook a not inconsiderable amount of collection, compression,
and organization of the material available to him. (Further support for this
argument will come in the section on Rome and Apollodorus’ possible sources for
those sections, below.) As Brunt notes: “‘Fragments’ and even epitomes reflect
the interests of the authors who cite or summarize lost works as much as or more
than the characteristics of the works concerned.”14 What matters is the text as
it presents itself and the questions it raises: why this collection of these myths,
organized in this way, at this time?15 Whether the Bibliotheca is an epitome of
some lost or now fragmentary work or not, pursuing these questions can provide
us with information about this work as the product of a creative intelligence.16
12. On the Bibliotheca and Apollodorus of Athens, see Robert 1873: 9–34. Schwartz 1960:
127–34, 314–28 argues against using the Bibliotheca to restore the Catalogue; West 1985: 32–35,
44–46 argues that they are close enough that the Bibliotheca can help restore the basic outline
and sections of the Catalogue; Drager 1997: 43–66, 91–105 agrees; cf. Drager 2005: 864. On the
Hesiodic Catalogue of Women, see now the papers in Hunter 2005, almost all of which, following
West, operate under the assumption that Apollodorus followed the basic outline of the Catalogue.
A welcome exception is Fletcher 2005: 299–303, who questions the circular logic of using the
Bibliotheca to restore the Catalogue. Cameron 2004: 103 rightly observes that Apollodorus must
have been following multiple sources.
13. The most obvious omission from the Bibliotheca is Mestra, daughter of Erysichthon, the
subject of one of the longest extant fragments of the Catalogue (fr. 43 M.-W.). If Apollodorus
was using the Catalogue, then, he clearly adapted the material to fit his patrilineal focus, and also
excluded other myths. On patterns in the Catalogue of Women, see Osborne 2005, who focuses on the
role of women in the poem, outlining a general “plot” that stresses the physical beauty and fertility of
the women involved. This focus on women is remarkably different from the male-driven “plot” of
the Bibliotheca.
14. Brunt 1980: 494. His remarks throughout on the degree to which epitomes can vary from
their “source” are salutary. Cf. Erskine 2001: 30, who makes the point that citations are never neutral.
15. Cf. Smith and Trzaskoma 2007: xvi: “We have much to learn by looking at the mythog-
raphers’ explicit and implicit criteria of inclusion, what they find most important when summarizing,
how they attempt to reconcile variants or relate two different myths, and their place in transmitting
myth in the wider culture.” They also note that the degree of organization in the Bibliotheca suggests
that Apollodorus brought a clear idea of what he was doing to whatever he found in his sources
(xxxv). Cf. Drager 2005: 887.
16. It is also necessary to move past the old view that the Bibliotheca was simply a school
text (Robert 1873: 35; Wagner 1926: xxxiii; van der Valk 1958 esp. 102). Cameron 2004: 170
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 63
It may seem to some that we are foundering on the rocks with the phrase
“at this time,” since we cannot say for sure when Apollodorus was writing.17 Our
only solid piece of evidence is the reference to the Chronica of Castor (2.1.3[5]),18
almost certainly Castor of Rhodes, a contemporary of Cicero’s.19 Save for this
reference, Apollodorus generally cites earlier authors (see below), so this one
name bears a great deal of weight as the only terminus post quem. Otherwise,
we must rely on Apollodorus’ Greek, which seems to belong to the second or third
century CE.20 So, while we cannot date the work exactly, we know enough to place
it within a general period, roughly that of the Second Sophistic. We need not rely
on such an artificial term, however, or think too much about periodization, since
it is the general characteristics of this time that are significant here: the Roman
Empire had solid control over the Mediterranean world, and there was a certain
(though perhaps overstated) revival of Greek culture. Broadly speaking, this is
the milieu in which Apollodorus was writing, and it is within this context that
we must try to place the Bibliotheca and its system of genealogies.
GREEK GENEALOGIZING AND THE BIBLIOTHECA’S SYSTEM
Genealogy is a powerful tool in the Bibliotheca as elsewhere, because ge-
nealogies offer a picture of perceived connections between peoples and places
and times; they are, in short, a reflection of a perceived reality: “Genealogies put
things in their place.”21 In their temporal aspect, they are also aetiological, serving
to explain how the world reached its present state.22 In this capacity, genealogies
play an important role in justifying the present, for they offer a type of logic. On
the level of the individual, as exemplified by heroes’ genealogical recitations in
offers a more nuanced view on such a work’s purpose, observing that students would need the
same mythological information that any ancient reader would. In his words, “The teacher/student
hypothesis is not so much mistaken as overly restrictive.” Cf. van Rossum-Steenbeek 1998: 164–69.
17. On arguments concerning the dating and authorship of the Bibliotheca, see the overview
in Carriere and Massonie 1991: 7–12. Cf. Drager 2005: 839–40. I continue to use the name
“Apollodorus” for the sake of convenience, and do not place as much stock in the supposed anonymity
of this author as others do (cf. Scarpi 1999: 5, 16).
18. For references to the Bibliotheca, I give first the three numbers as used in Frazer’s Loeb
edition, and then the numbers used in Wagner’s Teubner. Scarpi 1996 (2000) conveniently uses both
numbers in his edition.
19. For Castor’s dates, see Jacoby’s commentary (FGrH 250). Cameron 2004: 103 rightly
observes that a reference like that to Castor could come from Apollodorus’ own reading. Even such
a brief reference helps remind us that there is an author behind the Bibliotheca. Some, however,
have athetized this reference; cf. Drager 2005: 838.
20. Carriere and Massonie 1991: 10–11 (see esp. n. 11) is the best recent treatment and includes
a useful overview of the scholarship in the note. I am content to use their range of dates: 180–230.
21. West 1985: 8. Cf. Asquith 2005: 276–77. This type of thinking underlies the approach of
Fowler 1998 and, in many ways, Jones 1999 and Hall 2002.
22. Cf. Saıd 1998: 7: “Mais les genealogies mythiques servirent aussi a expliquer la genese
du monde, preparant ainsi la naissance de la philosophie et des sciences. Elles permirent enfin de
fondre dans une tradition unique les legendes des differentes cites, de creer a partir de mythes epars
une mythologie unifiee et de jeter les bases d’une organisation temporelle qui relie le ‘temps des
dieux’ au ‘temps des hommes’ et preparerent ainsi l’apparition de l’histoire.”
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200864
the Iliad or by Pindar’s epinician odes, ancestors of quality assure descendants of
quality, securing the status of the latter; on a collective level, genealogies play
an important political role, providing justification for the current state of affairs,
as with fifth-century Athenian claims to Salamis on the basis of Ajax’s connection
with Athens in the Iliad.23
The functions of genealogy and its use as organizing principle reflect both
on a society’s use of myth as well as on the specific aims of individual accounts,
a point West stresses in relation to the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women, which
includes numerous genealogies (though not nearly as many as the Bibliotheca,
to judge from the extant fragments). And West could just as easily be talking
about the Bibliotheca when he says of the Catalogue that:
It did not consist merely of a congeries of traditional data about remote
periods which the poet happened to have acquired. It consisted of tradi-
tional material shaped, adjusted, combined, augmented, recomposed by
him in accordance with his own conceptions. It reflected the view-point of
his own time and place. This is one important reason why different poets
and logographers frequently gave divergent accounts. . . . Each had his
own perspective and was supplied with different material by his cultural
environment.24
There are numerous correspondences between almost all extant Greek mythical
genealogical accounts, despite the temporal distance between, say, “Hesiod” and
Apollodorus, but each account has unique elements or is—just as importantly—
a unique collection of otherwise attested elements, and thus reflects on the
particulars surrounding each composition. This difference between accounts is
what requires us to talk about a specific Homeric or Hesiodic or Apollodoran
view of Greek myth as opposed to “Greek myth” as some unified whole. Thus,
Apollodorus’ account is useful on two levels: the general and the specific, or the
broader Greek level and his individual view which reflects on his own times and
the circumstances under which he was writing.
The Bibliotheca is a synthesis of Greek mythic material gleaned from the
earliest sources available to Apollodorus, directly or indirectly, linked together by
an extended series of systematic genealogies. It is a work of individual scholarship
for Greeks written by a Greek living under the Roman Empire, who expresses his
worldview through a genealogical mapping of the world around him, a conceptual
map with mainland Greece at the center.25 The Bibliotheca is “a Greek book for
23. For the latter example, see West 1985: 10. More generally, see Jones 1999, who traces
the political importance of kinship—often established though such genealogies—from the Archaic
period to late antiquity.
24. West 1985: 11.
25. For a brief discussion of such Greek genealogies as Hellenocentric, see Hall 1996: 339. For
genealogy as a conceptual map, see Fowler 1998: 1 and Erskine 2001: 133. The landmark work
on the Greek use of genealogy to integrate foreigners is Bickerman 1952.
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 65
Greeks about Greeks and others—and it makes Greek sense of the others.”26 Only
through understanding the system that Apollodorus creates can we appreciate the
effect of his exclusion of Rome.
Before examining this system of myth, however, we must address two con-
cepts underlying the Bibliotheca: historical “reality” and Greek identity. Apol-
lodorus’ picture of the world is theoretically of a specific time, from its creation
to the death of Odysseus (and these specific end points are one part of Apol-
lodorus’ choices), but like all works of myth, the Bibliotheca is synchronic and
thus reflects no actual historical reality. Who, for example, are “the Egyptians” in
the Bibliotheca? This synchronism similarly complicates a discussion of Apol-
lodorus’ geography, as it is impossible to tell to what he refers when he uses
any given geographical term. Is “Cilicia,” for instance, to be identified with the
contemporary Roman province of that name, or does it signify an earlier concept
of that region preserved in myth? There is no way to be sure, and to a degree it
must always be both. Accordingly, it is worth stressing that Apollodorus’ mapping
of the world is conceptual, and that his particular perception of the world reflects
on his own temporal context regardless of when these myths originated; the world
had changed a great deal between Hesiod and Apollodorus, and the myths reflect
these changes. This synchronic view thus combines with Apollodorus’ system
of genealogies to create an idealized mythological world suitable for his time.
A related issue is the notion of Greek identity, generally and as relevant to the
Bibliotheca specifically. Recently this issue has been the focus of much attention,
and scholars tend to trace the development of what some now call “Hellenicity,”
the growing sense of Greekness in the Archaic period.27 The situation with
Apollodorus is different, however, because the text is so late (i.e., after the
development that scholars generally examine) and his account is synchronic.
There is no sense in the Bibliotheca of a development of Greek identity; rather, a
concept of Greekness already underlies the entire project of the Bibliotheca, and it
manifests itself both explicitly and implicitly. Apollodorus uses the terms �Ελλ�ςand �Ελληνες, but they appear most frequently in the context of his narration
of the Trojan war, in which it is necessary to refer to a large group of people
from various parts of mainland Greece. For the most part, however, the idea of
Greekness in the Bibliotheca is implicit, and such an idea of readily apparent
Greekness is necessary for Apollodorus to be able to position peoples as either
close to or distant from this identity.28
A basic factor in establishing Apollodorus’ focus is that he writes in Greek
and thereby places the work within a specifically Greek context. While language
26. As Redfield 1985: 102 says of Herodotus’ Histories.
27. Hall 2002 is the most recent and thorough attempt at tracing this development.
28. Too often scholars (including Hall 2002) who rely on Apollodorus for early Greek myths
overlook or at least do not address the difference of conception of Greekness in the Bibliotheca.
Apollodorus’ systematic approach means we should use his accounts very cautiously when trying
to hypothesize (much) earlier social developments.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200866
of composition alone does not determine Apollodorus’ aim, the geographical
positioning of the Bibliotheca is also Greek, focusing primarily on mainland
Greek poleis like Athens, Argos, and Thebes. These places form the center for
Apollodorus’ discussion, which radiates outward from these areas but always
returns to them.29 It is this combination of Greek locations and Greek figures
(especially gods) that reveals the concept of Greekness underlying the Bibliotheca.
Additionally, Apollodorus’ citation of Greek authors adds to the impression of
a shared cultural heritage, and thus an idea of what it is to be Greek.30
It is with this notion of Greekness that Apollodorus strives to adapt and
incorporate some of the foreign peoples of the ancient Mediterranean. What
emerges from an examination of the Bibliotheca as a whole is a series of variations
on a theme that underlies this adaptation of foreign cultures: Greeks leave Greece,
establish connections with foreigners, then they or their descendants return to
occupy (often prominent) positions in Greece.31 As the following discussion will
show, there are numerous variations on this pattern, but the end result is clear:
foreign peoples become part of the Greek world and—to varying degrees—Greek
themselves through genealogical connections.32 This pattern is more systematic
in the Bibliotheca than in any other extant work and makes it possible for us to
talk about Apollodorus’ specific construction.
Apollodorus’ system places the peoples of the ancient Mediterranean and Near
East on a conceptual map that reflects not geography but perceived closeness of
relation; these genealogical relations reveal the relative perceived importance of
these foreign peoples. An examination of this process of genealogizing—and
the variations of this fundamental pattern—reveals that some peoples, such as
the Egyptians and Persians, have multiple connections with Greek figures, while
other peoples occupy a more marginal position and have only one—if any—such
genealogical relation. Notably absent from this matrix are the Romans and the
peoples of the western Mediterranean in general. This exclusion is particularly
relevant because of the time in which Apollodorus was writing, when the Roman
Empire controlled all of the Mediterranean world, including Greece, and numerous
myths had long since circulated connecting this area to its eastern neighbors.
Mythology by nature reflects the present, and while it is not always aetiological in
29. There is a tendency to connect Apollodorus with Asia Minor, as Carriere and Massonie
1991: 8–9 and 157 do, because of a perceived interest in areas to the east. As will become clear,
this focus on the east need not have anything to do with Apollodorus’ origins and, at any rate, pales in
comparison with his focus on central Greece.
30. Jacob 1994: 422–23, 427.
31. Olivi 1998: 170 recognizes aspects of this pattern in her discussion of the transmission of
Argive royal power in the Bibliotheca. Dougherty 1993 is also especially important for a discussion
of mythological patterns involving Greeks leaving Greece, though her focus is specifically on
colonization narratives. Jacob 1994: 422 overestimates the difficulties that a reader might have in
following the extended genealogies in the Bibliotheca.
32. For an overview of this type of Greek myth, see Bickerman 1952 and Georges 1994: 2–9.
Gruen 2006 provides a good introduction to these issues.
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 67
the strictest sense of the word, the repetition of traditional tales is premised upon
their continued value for the society in which they are being reenacted.33 The
exclusion of the Romans thus reflects a certain view of the present, which I will
explore below. The oddity of Italy’s almost complete absence from Apollodorus’
conceptual map will be all the more clear when contrasted with the inclusion of
other countries and the numerous connections they have with Greece.
Apollodorus’ genealogical system, as it pertains to foreigners, depends on
patterns of connection all based on movement of three kinds: centrifugal, cen-
tripetal, or circular.34 The center in this case is of course Greece, from which
all of these movements originate. These types are not mutually exclusive, be-
cause they also have a temporal aspect, being either terminal or temporary. Thus,
a centrifugal movement might be temporary, in that the Greek figure spends a
limited amount of time in a foreign place where s/he establishes a genealogical
connection with a foreign people, before moving on to another place (Heracles
exemplifies this type of movement). A terminal centrifugal movement would be
one in which the Greek person does not leave the new home, whether by choice or
by dying before he or she can leave (as with Io in Egypt).
While a movement may be terminal and centrifugal in the context of one
generation, it can be circular over the span of two or more generations. Thus,
larger, multi-generational patterns are comprised of simpler, single-generation
patterns, and it is this bigger picture that is important here because the Bibliotheca
is unique in following through multiple generations of various stemmata, thereby
giving us a long view. Because the single-generation patterns are the building
blocks for more complex connections, however, it is necessary to begin with them.
Since these patterns depend on a Greek encountering a foreign person, either
one or both persons has to travel, at least initially; in later generations, a person
of Greek descent can meet a foreigner because he or she is already in a foreign
land. Because many of Apollodorus’ genealogies involve colonization, recent
scholarship on colonization narratives can help illuminate the tendencies of the
Bibliotheca. In her work on such narratives, Carol Dougherty explores the reasons
why Greeks leave their homes, and the basic pattern she outlines is murder (or
other “civic crisis”)—Delphic consultation—foundation of a colony—resolution
33. A good recent formulation of this view is Wiseman 2004: 10–11: “To forestall tedious
terminological argument, let us define a myth as a story that matters to a community, one that is
told and retold because it has a significance for one generation after another. Such a story may be
(in our terms) historical, pseudo-historical or totally fictitious, but if it matters enough to be retold, it
can count as a myth.” This view is not contradicted by the argument made by some scholars (e.g.
Cameron 2004: xii) that myth by this point had become something that an educated person was
supposed to know; in leaving out these myths about Rome, Apollodorus is still making a statement
about what matters, and what is worth knowing.
34. Ruiz Montero 1986 discusses narrative patterns in the Bibliotheca within a Proppian
framework, though the examination is more about Greek myth in general than about Apollodorus
in particular. I introduce these terms here not to construct a strict classification, but rather to be
as descriptive as possible when discussing these basic elements.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200868
of crisis.35 While some of the accounts in Apollodorus follow this exact pattern
(though Dougherty’s use of the Bibliotheca as a source raises its own issues), with
a greater focus on the connections between Greeks and foreigners, there is not
always such a clear progression, and murder is less often the reason why people
leave one location to go to another.
Another feature common to the Bibliotheca and the colonization narratives is
that the foreign persons involved are more often female than male. As mentioned
above, the Bibliotheca is markedly patrilineal in its focus, differing in this way
from the Catalogue of Women, with which it is often linked. The role that the
union of Greek male with foreign woman plays in colonization narratives is also
relevant here: “within the rhetoric of Greek colonial discourse, marriage with
a local woman or nymph signals control of the land and all its occupants.”36
Conversely, when the Greek who goes abroad is a woman in the Bibliotheca, she
usually has a child by a god or demigod as opposed to a foreign resident, often
before going to the foreign place; Auge, for instance, bears Telephus to Heracles
before she goes to Mysia (3.9.1 [103]). The gods play a related role in these
patterns, for they appear frequently, often at the head of family trees—and they
are Greek gods who have affairs with Greek women. While Greek heroes—like
Heracles, Jason, and Perseus—have affairs with foreign women, the only mortal
women to sleep with gods are Greek women (i.e. born in Greece or of Greek
descent; see below). The union of god and mortal woman is one that belongs
generally to the center, whereas nymphs and other female divinities often (but not
always) occupy the periphery, where they mingle with mortal men. Thus, these
patterns reflect perceptions of gender as well as cultural egotism.
Perhaps the major difference between the two models of Greek-foreigner
interaction is that the colonial pattern is always centrifugal and terminal, for
Dougherty’s examination reveals that colonizers cannot return to the metropolis
even if they so choose.37 In the Bibliotheca, however, heroes like Heracles and
Jason return to Greece after being abroad, and second- (or later) generation people
also return, as the Danaids and Europa do. The role of children generally is more
important for the continuous genealogical narratives of the Bibliotheca than in
the colonization myths, so there is an inherent focus on multiple generations and
multiple movements in the former.
These multi-generational variants on the basic pattern take several forms. In a
particularly simple one, there is a union between Greek and foreigner that produces
children about whom Apollodorus says nothing more, as with Bellerophon’s as-
35. Dougherty 1993: 15–27 and Dougherty 1998. Like Dougherty, I am looking at these patterns
not as an accurate reflection of what “really” happened, but rather as evidence for the way some
Greeks—and Apollodorus in particular—may have viewed what had happened. On such myths, cf.
Erskine 2001: 131–35.
36. Dougherty 1993: 69; she also notes that imperialism can be presented as erotic conquest
(75). For a similar discussion of modern colonial discourse, see Pratt 1992.
37. Dougherty 1993: 36.
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 69
sumption of rule in Lycia. Bellerophon leaves Greece and settles in Lycia, marry-
ing the princess Philonoe and inheriting the kingdom when King Iobates dies (2.3.2
[33]). Apollodorus includes no reference to any children, and Bellerophon appears
to do nothing of note after this.38 His movement is centrifugal and terminal, for he
ends up in Lycia and does not appear to leave. All that matters for Apollodorus
is that Bellerophon becomes the ruler of Lycia after marrying the princess.
By contrast, Apollodorus connects the Greeks and Lydians through Heracles,
who does not stay to rule, but leaves behind a son ostensibly to do so:
� �Οµφ�λης δ� �Αγ�λαος, �θεν κα� τ� Κρο�σου γ�νος.
2.7.8 (165)
From Omphale he had Agelaus, whence comes the family of Croesus.39
Heracles goes to Lydia to serve the queen, Omphale, for three years to atone
for the murder of Iphitus (2.6.3 [131]) and establishes a genealogical connection.
Apollodorus does not mention this Agelaus again in the Bibliotheca, so he appears
here only to cement the link between Greeks and Lydians (and his name might
suggest his position as ruler). Apollodorus’ tracing of this connection all the way
down to Croesus, however, highlights two important points, one general and one
specific. On the general level, the foreign people in the Bibliotheca with whom
the Greeks make connections are almost always royalty, which facilitates a view
of them as conceptual representatives of a people. The focus of the Bibliotheca as
a whole is on the upper echelons of society, both politically and socially, and the
Greek figures on whom Apollodorus spends most of his time are often descendants
of gods and usually rulers, and their struggles involve important pieces of property
and political power.40 Political power, in fact, is one of the motivating factors for
movement in the Bibliotheca; as Dougherty notes, two people contending for one
throne generally means that one person will leave.41
On a specific level, the connection with Croesus in the passage about Lydia is
unusual because it refers to a much later time period; in general, Apollodorus
limits himself to the Heroic Age (i.e., up to the point at which the people who
38. At 3.1.1 (3), Apollodorus identifies Sarpedon as a son of Europa and Zeus, though he
acknowledges that Homer calls Sarpedon the son of Zeus and Laodameia, daughter of Bellerophon.
At E. 3.35, Glaucus is the son of Hippolochus, but Apollodorus does not make it clear (possibly
because this section is only in the epitome) that Hippolochus was a son of Bellerophon, at least
according to Homer (Il. 6.196–99).
39. The text is that of Scarpi 1996 (2000). All translations are my own.
40. This limited societal focus marks a clear distinction not only between the Bibliotheca and a
good deal of Hellenistic and Roman mythological literature, but also between Apollodorus and other
mythographers. The only exceptions to this focus are: Molorchus, a χερν"της who hosts Heracles
but has no genealogical connections (2.5.1 [74]); Eumaeus, an ο#κ�της who has no children (E. 7.32);
and Naucrate, a δο$λη of Minos and mother of Icarus, who is another genealogical dead-end (E.
1.12).
41. Dougherty 1993: 17. See also Olivi 1998, who examines patterns of transmission of royal
power in Argos, using the Bibliotheca as a test case.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200870
fought at Troy die) and earlier times. Such a reference breaks the confines of the
narrative by making a chronological leap. It collapses the time between Heracles
and Croesus, much as aitia (of which genealogy is a type) in general do, because
they have a dual focus on the past and the relevant present. The reference to
Croesus, in particular, reflects upon a Greek perception of when the Lydians
were important, as well as myth’s ability to incorporate historical figures (though
I would not want to push any neat distinction between “myth” and “history”).
Croesus and Heracles are connected because Croesus is the most famous king
of the Lydians from a Greek perspective.42 What other Lydian king could possibly
descend from the union of Omphale and Heracles?43
This brief reference to Croesus also gives us a glimpse of the choices that
Apollodorus makes in constructing his genealogies, regardless of whether he is
altering received tradition or choosing the variant most in accord with his aims.
For instance, Apollodorus’ account directly contradicts Herodotus’ discussion of
the kings of Lydia:
% δ� %γεµον�η ο&τω περι*λθε, ο+σα �Ηρακλειδ�ων, ς τ� γ�νος τ�Κρο�σου, καλεοµ�νους δ� Μερµν�δας. 0ν Κανδα$λης, τ�ν ο1 �Ελλη-νες Μυρσ�λον 3νοµ�ζουσι, τ$ραννος Σαρδ�ων, 6π7γονος δ� �Αλκα�ουτο+ �Ηρακλ�ος.
Herodotus Histories 1.7
Rule, belonging to the Heracleidae, passed over to the race of Croesus,
called the Mermnadae, in this way: there was a man, Candaules, whom
the Greeks call Myrsilus, tyrant of Sardis, the offspring of Alcaeus, son of
Heracles.
What follows in Herodotus is the story of Gyges and Candaules’ wife, who
together take the power from the Heraclid Candaules, son of Myrsus. There is
a connection between Greece and Lydian royalty either way, but at stake is the
perceived importance of the foreigner involved.44 For Apollodorus, Croesus is the
42. Croesus entered Greek myth immediately after his death and came to occupy a privileged
position, especially as a dramatic figure, as, for example, in Ion of Chios (for his satyr play Omphale,
see TrGF 12 F 17a-33a). Croesus, of course, also occupies a key place in the first book of Herodotus’
Histories, in which he is said to be the first foreigner to subjugate Greeks (1.6.2–3). Georges 1994
discusses the depiction of Croesus by Herodotus (167–84) and Bacchylides (167–73), arguing that
Croesus is depicted as Greek by Bacchylides and then transformed back into a foreigner by Herodotus
(169).
43. It is odd that the connection between Pelops and Lydia does not appear in the Bibliotheca.
Though Tantalus is linked with Sipylus (3.5.6 [47]), Apollodorus nowhere states that Tantalus is
Pelops’ father and Pelops is even called “the Elean” at 2.5.1 (76). Unfortunately, the parts about
Pelops are in the epitomized section (E. 2.3–10), so something may have been lost, though they
do follow shortly on the section about the punishment of Tantalus (E. 2.1), possibly suggesting a
connection. To add to the confusion, something seems to be missing between E. 2.1 and E. 2.2; at the
very least, E. 2.2 seems out of place here.
44. Georges 1994: 171 with n. 10 discusses Croesus’ connection with the Lydian Heraclids, and
sees a common thread in these accounts: “Agelaus is recognizably a Hellenized form of Panyassis’
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 71
Lydian king, precisely because Croesus enjoyed the kind of literary Nachleben
that Candaules did not. The irony is that Herodotus’ memorable depiction of
Croesus may ultimately have influenced Apollodorus, leading Apollodorus to
contradict him by making Croesus and not Candaules the descendant of Heracles.
Furthermore, Apollodorus—true to form—omits the detail provided by Herodotus
(1.7.4) that the Heraclid line in Lydia starts with Heracles and a slave woman (cf.
Diodorus 4.31.8).
The examples of Bellerophon and Heracles also highlight another funda-
mental element of these patterns: both heroes arrive in foreign countries un-
der shameful circumstances (Heracles must atone for murder and Bellerophon
is—wrongfully—accused of adultery), yet they both demonstrate their valor by
subduing the locals’ enemies and performing other noteworthy deeds. While
Apollodorus is not clear in connecting these deeds with Omphale’s sleeping with
Heracles (perhaps because Heracles’ prowess is self-evident), Iobates’ approval
of Bellerophon (he was originally supposed to kill him) is based upon this demon-
stration of prowess (2.3.2 [33]). Despite arriving under negative circumstances,
both heroes help create new royal lines. The important roles that Greeks con-
tinually play among foreigners demonstrate the cultural egotism of Greek myth,
which represents—and creates at the same time—the self as central to all actions.
From a Greek perspective, it is only natural that Greeks should occupy positions
of power among foreigners. The prowess that allows them to have such influence
abroad is a marker of this cultural egotism.45 Exclusion from this type of equation
(i.e. inherent worth leads to influence abroad) suggests some deficiency, and the
way Apollodorus constructs the world of Greek mythology forces us also to read
the absence of the Romans along such lines.
Similar to the myth of Heracles and Omphale is that of Perseus and An-
dromeda, which results in a genealogical connection between Greeks and Persians.
Perseus, son of Zeus, goes into exile with his mother Danae and later in his travels
comes to Ethiopia, where Cepheus is king. By killing the sea monster to whom
Cepheus must sacrifice his daughter Andromeda, Perseus earns the right to marry
this princess, whom he takes back to Greece with him (2.4.3–4 [43–7]). While
they create a new line of rulers in Tiryns, they have one child before they return:
γ�νοντο δ� � �Ανδροµ�δας πα8δες α9τ:;, πρ�ν µ�ν λθε8ν ε#ς τ<ν�Ελλ�δα Π�ρσης, >ν παρ? Κηφε8 κατ�λιπεν (6π� το$του δ� το@ςΠερσ:ν βασιλ�ας λ�γεται γεν�σθαι).
2.4.5 (49)
Lydian ancestor Acheles or Acheletes (fr. 17 K), as is Herodotus’ alternative, Alcaeus (1.7.2.).”
This formulation, however, does not take into account the fact that Herodotus’ Alcaeus is not an
ancestor of Croesus.
45. There may of course be some historical basis for this pattern, as Herodotus shows Greeks
like Demaratus in advisory positions among the Persians. That this pattern is not completely “real”
even in Herodotus, however, is clear from the story of Solon’s meeting with Croesus, which is
historically inaccurate.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200872
Children were born to him by Andromeda: Perses, before they went to
Greece, whom Perseus left with Cepheus (it is said that the kings of the
Persians descend from Perses).
As with Croesus, the Persian kings only become important later in Greek history
(i.e. long after the Heroic Age), so the same chronological collapse is at work
here; these two genealogies demonstrate how myth is synchronic, picking up on
key points from various times in history and merging them into one.
Like Heracles, Perseus returns to Greece, leaving behind a new, mixed
line, and as with the relation between Croesus and Heracles, Apollodorus offers
no details on how the Persian kings are descended from Perses. This lack of
detail accords with Apollodorus’ aim in focusing on a specific time period, but
the collapse of time is also necessary because otherwise the actual connection
between Heracles and Croesus would be very distant, extending through numerous
generations. Even the briefest possible sketch of such a lengthy family tree could
do nothing but emphasize the distance between these two figures. Apollodorus
cuts out the middle of the line to juxtapose the beginning and end, thereby giving
an impression of closeness.
Occasionally a linguistic component reinforces these genealogical connec-
tions. In the case of Perses, the similarity of the words Περσε$ς and Π�ρσαιsuggests a link, and the name Π�ρσης acts as an intermediary. This etymology
thus provides proof for the genealogy. According to this formulation, the Per-
sians’ name for themselves is “actually” a Greek word, as it derives from the
name of a famous Greek hero. This type of translation (in this case, of Persian
into Greek) reflects on the cultural specificity of myth, which creates a way of
understanding the world as revolving around the self. Persian dominance in the
Near East is thus mitigated and perhaps explained through its dependence on
Greece. A connection with Greece is a requirement for doing anything important
as well as an endorsement of these accomplishments.
This same type of linguistic reasoning appears also in more complex forms
of this general genealogical pattern, as in that involving Medea. Like Andromeda,
Medea comes to Greece as the bride of a Greek husband who had gone abroad,
but she has multiple relationships with Greeks. After she kills the children she
has with Jason, she flees to Athens, where she bears a son, Medus, to Aegeus,
king of Athens (1.9.28 [147]). She and her son are later exiled because of her
plot against Theseus; she returns to Colchis, but Medus does not:
6λλB οCτος µ�ν πολλ:ν κρατ"σας βαρβ�ρων τ<ν DφB Eαυτ�ν χFρανGπασαν Μηδ�αν κ�λεσε, κα� στρατευ7µενος π� �Ινδο@ς 6π�θανεI
1.9.28 (147)46
46. Apollodorus uses the word barbaroi about a half-dozen times, but other than this reference,
it only appears in the epitome, referring to the Trojans during the Trojan war.
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 73
But he, having becoming master of many barbaroi, called the whole land
Media after himself, and died while marching against the Indians.
As with Περσε$ς and Π�ρσαι, the similarity between Μ"δεια and Μηδ�α suggests
a connection, and again an intermediary, half-Greek figure is introduced.47 The
same etymological thinking is operative here, and a foreign name is written into
the context of Greek myth. The nature of these intermediary figures, Π�ρσης and
Μ*δος, highlights the logic of this genealogical approach, for these eponymous
figures—and not their parents—represent the connection between Greece and
the foreign country; a new foreign line (one of any importance, at least) cannot
spring only from Greek ancestry, but must represent some combination of Greek
and foreigner. Thus the Persian kings descend from Perses more directly than
Perseus, and the Medes are named after Medus, not Medea. The necessity of a
mixed ancestry for connecting Greece and foreign countries is fundamental to the
genealogical system of the Bibliotheca, and here the distinction between Medus
and the barbaroi highlights the difference between the partially Greek rulers and
the peoples they rule.
Location also plays a central role in these patterns, as the myth of Medea
makes clear. A new foreign line has to come into being in a foreign context;
thus, Medea and Medus are exiled from Greece and Perses is left behind in
Ethiopia. The children of Perseus and Andromeda in Greece are—for all intents
and purposes—Greek,48 and it is only Perses, specifically born before Perseus and
Andromeda go to Greece, who becomes a sort of foreigner. Similarly, children of
foreign women often die or are killed (without issue) in Greece, as is the case with
Medea’s children by Jason as well as Hippolytus, Theseus’ son by the Amazon
Hippolyta.49 These figures die and so present no threat to the Greek order in
Greece. In this way, Apollodorus maintains a double standard: it is permissible
for a Greek to go to a foreign country and create a union which provides a new royal
line in the area, but non-Greeks do not come to Greece and have the same effect.50
47. Cf. Herodotus 7.61–62, who mentions Perses but not Medus, saying that the Medes, by their
own account, took their name from Medea.
48. It is odd that Apollodorus does not explicitly connect Andromeda’s father Cepheus with
Belus, a descendant of Io. He does name one Cepheus (2.1.4 [117], attributing the name to Euripides)
as the son of Belus, and Herodotus (7.61) makes the connection explicit. If we suppose that
Apollodorus is suggesting this connection, then Andromeda is essentially a Greek returning to
Greece (a pattern I will discuss below), making her children—like the offspring of Danaus (of
whom Perseus is one)—perfectly Greek. If he is not suggesting this connection, then he would be
downplaying it to make sure that there is an evident foreign element along with the Greek in the
Persian royal line.
49. In this context, it is significant that Apollodorus does not mention Hippolytus’ later incarna-
tion, Virbius, of whom he could have known.
50. While it is difficult to make conclusions just on the basis of the epitomes, it is possible that
Apollodorus does not explicitly mention Pelops’ connection with Asia Minor in order not to have
a foreigner coming to Greece and exerting significant influence, in part by starting a royal line. Cf. n.
43.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200874
A related variation on the pattern of a Greek going to a foreign country and
having a child centers on the martial exploits of the Greek figure who has a
child abroad whose name is related to the location involved, but whose mother
is a non-local woman. For example, Cadmus (to whom we will return below)
is a descendant of the Greek Io and founder of Thebes in Greece, and ends his
life in Illyria. I underline here the words involving Greek military success and
leadership:
J δ� Κ�δµος µετ? �Αρµον�ας Θ"βας κλιπLν �Εγχελ�ας παραγ�νεται.το$τοις δ� Dπ� �Ιλλυρι:ν πολεµουµ�νοις J θε�ς Mχρησεν �Ιλλυρι:νκρατ"σειν, ?ν %γεµ7νας Κ�δµον κα� �Αρµον�αν Mχωσιν. ο1 δ� πεισ -θ�ντες ποιο+νται κατ? �Ιλλυρι:ν %γεµ7νας το$τους κα� κρατο+σι. κα�βασιλε$ει Κ�δµος �Ιλλυρι:ν, κα� πα8ς �Ιλλυρι�ς α9τ:; γ�νεται.
3.5.4 (39)
Cadmus, having left Thebes with Harmonia, went to the Encheleans, to
whom the god prophesied when they were being attacked by the Illyrians
that they would gain power over the Illyrians if they had Cadmus and
Harmonia as leaders. Obeying the oracle they procured them as leaders
against the Illyrians and won. And Cadmus became king of the Illyrians
and a son Illyrius, was born to him.
Apollodorus does not explicitly name Illyrius’ mother (again showing his interest
in fathers), though the references to Cadmus’ wife Harmonia in this passage
suggest that she is the mother. At any rate, there is no genealogical connection
with a foreigner.
Before we draw conclusions from this particular myth, it is useful to adduce a
close parallel from the same region, Neoptolemus’ encounter with the Molossians:
Νεοπτ7λεµος δ� µε�νας ν Τεν�δω; δ$ο %µ�ρας Dποθ"καις τ*ς Θ�τιδοςε#ς Μολοσσο@ς πεζ*Q 6π"Qει µετ? �Ελ�νου, κα� παρ? τ<ν Jδ�ν 6πο-θαν7ντα Φο�νικα θ�πτει, κα� νικ"σας µ�χηQ Μολοσσο@ς βασιλε$ει,κα� � �Ανδροµ�χης γεννST Μολοσσ7ν.
E. 6.12–1351
Neoptolemus, having stayed in Tenedos for two days at the advice of
Thetis, went by foot with Helenus to the Molossians and buried Phoenix,
who died during the journey. Having conquered the Molossians in battle
he became king, and had Molossus by Andromache.
Andromache was Hector’s wife, and travels with Neoptolemus as his prize; she is
not local to the region.52 Likewise, the name Molossus is transparently derived
51. The numbering for the epitome is standard, though the two epitomes, S and E, sometimes
preserve different readings (see below). When following one or the other, I will specify either S
or E. For the nature of these epitomes and their differences, see Wagner 1926: xxv–xxxiii.
52. The position of the Trojans and their allies within Apollodorus’ system is not clear, in part
because the sections involving Troy fall in the epitomes. In the case of the Molossians, Andromache
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 75
from the name of the people (or region), as is Illyrius. Unlike Perses and Medus,
who serve as intermediaries in a Greek linguistic connection between existing
names of peoples and characters in Greek myth, the figures Molossus and Illyrius
are simple fictions; in these cases the genealogical relationship is particularly
important, because the connections do not arise simply from the names; i.e., it is
not obvious that Molossus should be the son of Cadmus in the way that Perses, the
ancestor of the Persians, could only be the son of Perseus.
The locations involved in these two myths highlight how these patterns
depend, in part, on the position—cultural and geographical—of the foreign
peoples involved. The Molossians and Illyrians, to the northwest of Greece,
occupy a different conceptual position than do the Persians or Egyptians, for
example. The above two myths are the only ones in the Bibliotheca to treat the
Molossians and Illyrians, a reflection of the perceived unimportance of these
peoples.53 They occupy a marginal position, and do not receive the amount
of attention that societies of greater interest to the Greeks do; they are the
equivalent of fly-over country on Apollodorus’ conceptual map. Accordingly,
the connection is slight and not genealogical in the same way. The Greeks
establish their authority through military means and create a new line completely
unrelated to the region, suggesting that the local people are not worthy of a
genealogical connection.54 And, though Apollodorus is not explicit on this point,
these names provide etymologies for the region and are all the more telling for
their seeming arbitrariness, having no link to the names of their parents. The
Molossians are so named because Neoptolemus just happened to name his son
Molossus. Apollodorus clearly has less interest in peoples with less perceived
cultural capital.
This cultural capital is only “cultural,” however, in the broadest sense of
the word, for Apollodorus has little interest in anything but the genealogies of
people in power and major events, like the sagas of Troy and the Argonauts.
While the Bibliotheca includes numerous etymologies (mostly eponyms) and
some aitia, it provides no consistent focus on scientific or artistic innovations.55
seems to stand in for a Greek woman. In any event, what is important is that she is not local to
the region.
53. The lack of attention to the Molossians may suggest the lengths to which Apollodorus might
go to avoid a connection with Rome. Like the Romans, the Molossians had their own connection
with Troy, through Helenus, and a tradition stated that Aeneas visited the area on his way to Italy (see
Erskine 2001: 122–24). Apollodorus only says of Helenus that he went to Molossia and founded
a city (unnamed), and that Neoptolemus gave him his mother, Deidameia, to marry (E. 6.13). The
focus in this section is clearly on Neoptolemus and Molossus. But cf. 2.7.3 (143), where Apollodorus
includes a specifically Molossian hound. Apollodorus mentions Illyria briefly elsewhere, when some
of the Colchians colonize the nearby Apsyrtides islands (1.9.25 [137]) and when Io (2.1.3 [7]) and
Heracles (2.5.11 [114]) pass through, neither leaving a mark of any sort.
54. Strabo 7.7.8 stresses in his history of the region that Cadmus and Neoptolemus were outsiders
whose descendants came to rule in this area.
55. See now the useful indices compiled by Cremonesi 2000, who includes only seventeen
instances under the category “protoeurematologia” (6.4), even casting the net a bit wide.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200876
In this way Apollodorus differs from other mythographers, like Hyginus, who
includes fabulae about the institution of games (273) and various inventions
(274), or Antoninus Liberalis, who ends almost every myth with an aition.56
Accordingly, we should be careful when using the Bibliotheca as a source for
these types of myth, and their absence marks another way in which this collection
is not “complete”; Apollodorus is clearly more interested in some types of myth
than others. He occasionally touches on such matters, but his focus on foreign
peoples does not revolve around them; while other contributions might influence
Apollodorus’ perception of a foreign people, in the context of his narrative these
peoples are marked only by their political sway and “power,” broadly defined.
There is similarly little ethnography in the Bibliotheca and little descriptive
distinction between the peoples involved; while these peoples have genealogical
connections with the Greeks, Apollodorus says little about their characteristics
or the places they inhabit. The exceptions are the Scythians and Amazons, on
whose differing customs Apollodorus remarks, thereby marking them as outside
his normal field of discussion.57
This lack of ethnography as well as a general absence of interest in topics
like πρ:τοι εDρετα� reveal the limits of Apollodorus’ focus. The Bibliotheca is a
systematic treatment of genealogies, punctuated by longer narratives involving
a particular hero or saga. A main focus is on the connections between the Greeks
and their more important (from a Greek perspective) neighbors, a focus that draws
attention to the absence of the Romans in this account. Accordingly, Apollodorus
provides more complex versions of these genealogical patterns for connections
with especially prominent peoples from the ancient world. And, while many of
these genealogies long predate the Bibliotheca, it is Apollodorus’ collection and
organization of them that allow us to look at them as part of a purposeful system.
It is worth concluding this section by examining at length an example of
the multigenerational, circular movements that involve Greeks going abroad,
establishing genealogical connections in key countries, and having descendants
who return to Greece to play significant roles. Many of the figures who enact
this pattern belong to the Inachid stemma, which occupies all of Book Two and
a large portion of Book Three, and revolves primarily around Argos.58 The first
56. Again, it is the systematic nature of the Bibliotheca that might lead us to look for such
things. Other mythographers pursue different themes, so we can see the lack or profusion of aitia as a
personal choice. Parthenius, for instance, is rather stingy with aitia, for they have little bearing on his
love stories; Antoninus Liberalis, on the other hand, with his focus on metamorphoses, is full of
aitia.
57. At 2.5.9 (98), in the context of Heracles’ ninth labor, he gives a brief account of who the
Amazons are and mentions their habit of disfiguring their right breasts in order to shoot a bow. E.
6.26 (S) refers to the Scythian—specifically Taurian—practice of sacrificing foreigners. Both of
these practices were well known before Apollodorus.
58. West 1985: 144–45 contrasts the Deucalionid and Inachid stemmata in the Hesiodic Cat-
alogue and notes that the latter differs by being connected with numerous foreign countries. He
goes on to suggest that the “Argive genealogy must once have existed without the haphazard foreign
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 77
part of the genealogy that interests us depends on Io’s wanderings. Apollodorus
narrates the story of Io’s metamorphosis and subsequent flight in much the same
way they appear in Aeschylus (PV 561–886), and she is paradigmatic of the Greek
connection with foreign lands, as even her wanderings provide a map of the world,
the places of which get their present names from Greek undertakings:
% δ� πρ:τον Uκεν ε#ς τ�ν 6πB κε�νης �Ι7νιον κ7λπον κληθ�ντα,Mπειτα δι? τ*ς �Ιλλυρ�δος πορευθε8σα κα� τ�ν ΑVµον Dπερβαλο+σαδι�βη τ�ν τ7τε µ�ν καλο$µενον π7ρον Θρ�Tκιον, ν+ν δ� 6πB κε�νηςΒ7σπορον. 6πελθο+σα δ� ε#ς Σκυθ�αν κα� τ<ν Κιµµερ�δα γ*ν, πολλ<νχ�ρσον πλανηθε8σα κα� πολλ<ν διανη�αµ�νη θ�λασσαν Ε9ρFπης τεκα� �Ασ�ας, τελευτα8ον Uκεν ε#ς ΑXγυπτον.
2.1.3 (7–8)
She went first into the gulf called “Ionian” after her, and then traveling
through Illyria and crossing the Haemus she crossed the ford then called
Thracian and now called Bosporus (“Cow-ford”) after her. Having gone
to Scythia and the Cimmerian land, having wandered over a lot of land
and swum across a lot of sea of Europe and Asia, at last she came to
Egypt.
In Egypt, Io bears Zeus’ son, Epaphus, then has to embark on a second journey—
this time to Syria—to find him when Hera has him abducted. Returning to Egypt,
she marries Telegonus, king of the Egyptians (who has a clearly Greek name),
whom Epaphus succeeds. Io’s long travels, which connect a larger geographical
area through names, at least, culminate in her becoming queen and then her son’s
becoming king of Egypt, that most prominent of ancient places in the Greek
view.59
The family tree of Io’s descendants on the following page (based on 2.1.4
[10–11] and 3.1.1 [2]) will help situate the figures relevant for the following
discussion as well as highlight the transparency of some of their names.60 A
variation of the main pattern here is that some of the local women (both Memphis
and Anchinoe) are children of a god, in this case the Nile, imagined as a deity. The
local partners, when not explicitly royalty, are necessarily somehow divine. Thus,
the only Egyptian human in the stemma, Telegonus, king of Egypt at the time
of Io’s arrival, has no genealogical connection with the subsequent rulers.61
attachments; a genealogist who aimed from the start to link the different nations would have treated
Greece as a unity.” This is precisely what Apollodorus does. On the modern book divisions, see
Drager 2005: 844.
59. For the Greek fascination with Egypt, see esp. Vasunia 2001 and Stephens 2003. Book 2
of Herodotus is the locus classicus for this fascination, on which see Georges 1994: 186–94.
60. For possible earlier versions of this family tree, see West 1985: 76–78.
61. The only person in this stemma whose origins Apollodorus leaves blank is Telephassa, wife
of Agenor and mother of Europa, Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix. Only Moschus (2.39–41) provides an
ancestry for her, making her the daughter of Libya and Poseidon. On her appearance in Moschus
and her genealogy, see Paschalis 2003: 155–56.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200878
Telegonus Io Zeus Nile
Epaphus Memphis
Poseidon Libya
Telephassa Agenor Belus Anchinoe
Europa Cadmus Phoenix Cilix Danaus Aegyptus (Cepheus Phrixus)62
........................................
........................................
........................................
.....................
The geographical associations of several of these names are clear, especially
those that suggest connections with Egypt. While Apollodorus often includes
eponymous figures for relatively minor locations in Greece (e.g. Athamas founds
Athamantia [1.9.2 (84)]),63 the foreign people are generally associated with well-
known locations, so here Memphis establishes an easy link with one of the most
famous cities of Egypt; similarly, the Nile, as the most famous landmark in Egypt,
is the likeliest parent. Some of the names of the foreigners, however, are clearly
Greek, such as Telegonus, Anchinoe, and Telephassa. When place names do
not dictate specific names for people, the names are Greek, revealing the extent
to which these genealogies are specifically Greek constructions. The core may
represent some actual sense of the foreign, but the rest of the apparatus is clearly
artificial and Greek.
While the purpose of this discussion is not to discern what these myths “mean”
or what amount of “truth” they preserve, this is a fitting time to reiterate some
earlier claims. The focus here on the cultural specificity of myth does not mean
that the roles foreign peoples play in myth are completely fictional nor that they
are always forced upon them as part of some imperial project. That the Greeks
were influenced in their myth-making by their neighbors is undeniable, as is their
general cultural debt to these same neighbors.64 The existence of this debt is
not in question, and its extent is irrelevant here, where the aim is to explore the
perception of this debt as preserved in mythology many centuries later and what
this perception says about the process of writing Greek myth under the Roman
Empire. Genealogy is, after all, about relationships and codifying them in terms
of near and far.
These genuine contacts between Greeks and their neighbors are especially
important for this particular stemma, the Inachid line, as it is thought to preserve
62. Apollodorus adds these last two names essentially in parentheses, attributing them to
Euripides (fr. 873 Nauck).
63. For a list of the eponyms in the Bibliotheca, see Cremonesi 2000 s.v. “eponimia” (6.1.1).
64. For varying opinions on the degree of this debt and ways to assess it, see—among others—
Bernal 1987, 1991, 2001, Lefkowitz and Rogers 1996, and West 1997.
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 79
actual foreign elements, visible in some of the names of the people involved.
Belus, the father of Danaus and Aegyptus, seems to have some connection to
the Semitic deity Ba’al, who appears in various places in the Mediterranean and
whose name means “lord.”65 The names Cadmus and Europa, too, have plausible
Semitic etymologies, suggesting that these figures developed elsewhere or—if
in Greece—among people of foreign descent, or at least people who had heard
Semitic names.66 Agenor, whose name is clearly Greek, is paired with Belus, and
they serve as placeholders in this genealogy; their only significance is their names
and, as brothers, they appropriately represent the two halves of this genealogy,
as do Belus’ sons, Danaus and Aegyptus.67 In both pairs, there is a name that
recalls Greece and one that recalls a foreign land.
It is with these children of Belus and Agenor that a new extension of
the pattern begins to appear. These lines, it is necessary to stress, are very
much Greek; not only is their ancestor, Epaphus, entirely Greek, but all of
the non-Greeks involved in the stemma are divine in some sense. For all of
the focus on Egypt, there is little actual connection with the Egyptians. Of this
generation of children, Cadmus and Danaus are most famous, for they return
to Greece and their descendants play important roles there. It is this circular,
multigenerational aspect of the stemma that highlights the hellenocentrism of
the genealogizing project. This phenomenon has not gone unnoticed; as West
states:
The yoking of Aegyptus and Danaus together as brothers reflects the
desire to put the Danaoi of Greek heroic tradition on a par with the
ancients of Egypt, and the willingness to believe (as many classical writers
believed) in an oriental contribution to early Greek civilization. Egypt’s
claims to primacy, however, are countered by the consideration that the
brothers’ great-great-grandmother came from Argos in the first place.68
Hall is even more succinct:
These genealogies are, however, actually profoundly ethnocentric from a
Hellenic point of view, for they seek to trace the origin of all peoples
of the world back to Greek gods and heroes.69
Hall correctly notes that these genealogies are ethnocentric (as I have shown)
but goes too far in asserting that they function as part of a desire to make all
peoples Greek. I suggest instead that each such connection in the Bibliotheca,
65. West 1997: 442, 446.
66. On these etymologies, see most recently West 1997: 448–51.
67. West 1997: 446: “They are not credited with any deeds; they are merely links in a
genealogical series.”
68. West 1997: 446. Cf. Aesch. Suppl. 274–326, where the Danaids prove that they are Argive
because of their descent from Io, and thus have returned “home.”
69. Hall 1996: 339.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200880
at least, represents a degree of approbation of the foreign people. Similarly, in
Hall’s formulation, this can seem one-sided, with the foreign peoples receiving
no benefit, but it is possible that some of these genealogical connections may have
come from the foreign peoples themselves in their dealings with the Greeks, as
possibly with the Persians.70 When these connections were first established, they
may not have been so imperialistic, since they were part of a shared language
of diplomacy.71 It is Apollodorus’ preservation of them, however, that represents
a new one-sidedness; the inhabitants of Persia in Apollodorus’ day can claim
no political benefit from a Greek connection with Persia’s kings, especially con-
sidering the decrease in importance of kinship for diplomacy under the Roman
Empire.72 Even if Apollodorus were copying all his myths verbatim from earlier
sources, it would still be his decision to present what he does, the way he does,
and—perhaps most of all—when he does that requires a reading of this work on
its own terms.
ITALY AND ROME73
In light of the systematic nature of genealogy in the Bibliotheca, the near-
complete absence of Italy is striking, especially since this exclusion represents a
conscious choice, depending neither on Apollodorus’ sources nor his opportunities
to include such material. While Apollodorus generally cites earlier sources
(Archaic and Classical), such a preference does not explain his omission of Italy
and Rome. Among sources we know Apollodorus uses (directly or indirectly),
Hellanicus, for example, treated Italy, providing an account of the founding
of Rome.74 Numerous other Greek authors discussed Rome’s origins before
the time of Apollodorus, such as the relatively early Antiochus Syracusanus
and Damastes Sigeus (both fifth century), as well as later authors like Conon,
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, and Plutarch, of whom the first two at least are earlier
70. Georges 1994: 67–71.
71. Georges 1994: 48, 66–69. See generally the valuable study of Jones 1999 and now Gruen
2006.
72. See Jones 1999: 107, who argues that such diplomacy came to matter only in dealing with
Rome and not at all in matters between other states.
73. Scarpi 1999 is the primary examination of Apollodorus’ treatment of Italy. My approach
differs from his in focusing on Apollodorus’ creation of a whole system of genealogies. Similarly,
I disagree with Scarpi’s argument (6–7) that Rome did not offer many myths to a writer like
Apollodorus. Scarpi also does not address the references to Italy in the epitomes, as he considers
their relation to the rest of the Bibliotheca uncertain (2, 14). As I hope to show, even if we accept
the epitomes as genuine, our view of Apollodorus’ treatment of Italy does not significantly change.
Drager 2005: 850–51 suggests that the lack of references to Rome and Italy are unproblematic
because of “der genetisch fruhen Zeit der Bibliotheke.”
74. Hellanicus FGrH 4 F 84 refers to the founding of Rome and F 111 is about the naming
of Italy. For Apollodorus’ use of Hellanicus Lesbius (whom he never explicitly names), see van
der Valk 1958: 134–43; but cf. Drager 2005: 883 n. 46. On Apollodorus’ possible distance from
the sources he cites, see Cameron 2004: 93–104. Cf. Kylintirea 2002.
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 81
than Apollodorus.75 To explain this omission of Italy and Rome by referring to
Apollodorus’ sources in particular is thus not possible, for earlier Greek writers
treating similar topics included these places.
In addition to having potential sources, Apollodorus had numerous oppor-
tunities to include information about Italy and Rome. Heracles had connections
with Italy and Rome from early on, and so afforded Apollodorus a way to include
these areas.76 Two Greek authors, both earlier than Apollodorus, reveal the mul-
tiple links Heracles had with Italy: Dionysius of Halicarnassus (1.39–44) cites
numerous authors to discuss these connections, thereby providing an indication of
their antiquity;77 Diodorus Siculus (4.20–22) shows just how many opportunities
Heracles’ time in Italy offered an author willing to exploit them. According to
Dionysius and his sources, Heracles had important links with Italy from when
he went there on his return to Greece with the cattle of Geryon. He had sons
Pallas, by a daughter of Evander (an Arcadian colonist who provides another link
to Greece), and Latinus, by an unnamed Hyperborean girl (RA 1.43.1). Diodorus
builds on this same adventure.78
Because this trip to Italy comes during one of Heracles’ labors, Apollodorus
includes it, but he avoids any connection with Rome and any genealogical
connection at all:79
δι? Τυρρην�ας YQει. 6π� �Ρηγ�ου δ� εVς 6πορρ"γνυσι τα+ρος, κα�ταχ�ως ε#ς τ<ν θ�λασσαν µπεσLν κα� διανη��µενος ⟨ε#ς⟩ Σικελ�αν,κα� τ<ν πλησ�ον χFραν διελθLν τ<ν 6πB κε�νου κληθε8σαν �Ιταλ�αν(Τυρρηνο� γ?ρ #ταλ�ν τα+ρον κ�λεσαν), 0λθεν ε#ς πεδ�ον _Ερυκος,>ς βασ�λευσεν �Ελ$µων.
2.5.10 (109–10)80
75. Antiochus Syracusanus FGrH 555 F 5–6; Damastes Sigeus FGrH 5 F 3; Conon Diegeseis
46, 48; Dionysius of Halicarnassus Roman Antiquities Book 1; Plutarch Life of Romulus. This list
is meant to be representative rather than complete. For an overview of early Greek references to
the founding of Rome and Rome’s connection with Troy, see Gruen 1992: 6–32. Cf. Bickerman
1952: 65, with n. 2; Erskine 2001.
76. On Apollodorus’ Heracles, see Scarpi 1998 and Scarpi 1999: 9–12.
77. Smith 1981: 25–45 discusses Dionysius’ treatment of early Rome and his sources, with
a focus on the information about Aeneas (cf. Horsfall 1979). Cameron 2004: 31 notes that Dionysius
cites more sources in Book 1 than later books because of the need to prove claims about more distant
time periods. For my purposes, it is enough to note that these myths long predate Apollodorus.
78. Another connection with Heracles is his granddaughter Rhome, daughter of his son Telephus,
after whom Rome is named (Plut. Rom. 2.1). For a collection of etymologies for the name of Rome,
see Maltby 1991 s.v. “Roma.”
79. Frazer 1921: 216 n. 5 notes that “It is somewhat singular that Apollodorus passes so lightly
over the exploits of Hercules in Italy, and in particular that he says nothing about those adventures in
Rome, to which the Romans attached so much significance.” Cf. Scarpi 1999: 7–8.
80. Some editors omit τ<ν 6πB κε�νου...κ�λεσαν, and most bracket it, including Scarpi. While
texts such as the Bibliotheca are prone to interpolation, Huys 1998: 125–27 argues convincingly
for this section—and others like it—being genuine. Were this section removed, though, there would
be even less about Italy in the Bibliotheca.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200882
[Heracles] went through Tyrrhenia. One bull broke away (aporregnusi)
from Rhegium, and quickly fell into the sea and swam to Sicily. Having
crossed the neighboring land—called Italy from this (for the Tyrrheni
called a bull an italos)—it came to the field of Eryx, who ruled the Elymi.
There is no mention here or anywhere else in the Bibliotheca of Evander, though
he is undoubtedly Greek. Heracles does not meet a local woman as he does on
so many other occasions, but leaves once he recovers the bull by wrestling Eryx.81
Beyond the naming of Italy (and the allusion to the etymology for Rhegium),
Heracles’ trip leaves no lasting mark.82 Heracles’ search for a lost bull provides
the country with its name, suggesting that the land only becomes important and
needs a name when it is relevant for the Greeks. This etymology of “Italy”
(which also appears in Hellanicus FGrH 4 F 111) at the same time contradicts the
story of an eponymous Italus (already in the fifth-century Antiochus Syracusanus
FGrH 555 F 5).83 While the word “Italy” is still local, it derives its significance
only from a connection with Greece. And, as Apollodorus implies, the name of
Rhegium is also Greek.84 Heracles’ adventures produce names, but he establishes
no genealogical connections.
This lack of genealogical information is especially surprising in relation to
Heracles, since Apollodorus provides a list of sixty-nine of Heracles’ sons (no
daughters, though admittedly Heracles has very few by any account) at 2.7.7–8
(160–66). While Apollodorus does not generally include genealogical information
during the course of Heracles’ labors, there are names in this list that suggest
certain episodes, like his relationship with Epicaste, daughter of Augeas and
by Heracles mother of Thestalus, and Parthenope, daughter of Stymphalus and
mother of Everes (2.7.8 [166]). Similarly, in this list Apollodorus mentions
children from episodes already treated, though where he had not originally
mentioned any children, like the son by Omphale, and the son by Astydameia,
daughter of Amyntor. Because Apollodorus pays so much attention to Heracles’
children (his sons, at least), the omission of any from the west—not only those
in Italy but also Celtus, eponymous ancestor of the Celts—is glaring.85
81. On Apollodorus’ cursory treatment of Eryx and the potential there for including Rome and
Carthage, see Scarpi 1999: 10–11. On the connection of Venus Erycina and Rome, see Erskine
2001: 198–205, who sees the link as fostered by the Sicilians and of little importance in Rome.
Apollodorus’ project, of course, means contradicting many Greeks who wanted to establish a bond
with Rome through myth.
82. On this naming, see Scarpi 1999: 9–10, who notes that this is the only time “Italy” appears
other than in the epitomes.
83. For Italus, cf. Arist. Pol. 7.9.2; Verg. Aen. 7.177–82; Aul. Gell. 11.1.1.
84. On Apollodorus’ etymologies, see briefly Robert 1873: 6, who distinguishes between ones
where Apollodorus is explicit and others, like the one for Rhegium, that are not as apparent.
85. For Celtus, cf. Parth. Erot. Path. 30. On just how widespread mythical connections between
the Greeks and Celts were, see Lightfoot 1999: 531–33. The Celts only appear in the Bibliotheca
when the Argonauts sail by at 1.9.24 (134), which is also the only reference to Ausonia, as the
home of Circe. The Ligurians, too, appear only here, and then Heracles passes through Liguria at
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 83
Odysseus, too, had a claim to a share in the mythic history of the area around
Rome by the fifth century if not already by the sixth. He was connected with the
Tyrrhenians at Theogony 1011–16, where he is also said to be by Circe the father
of the suggestively named Latinus.86 As regards Rome specifically, according to
Dionysius, Damastes Sigeus (FGrH 5 F 3 = Dio. Hal. RA 1.72.2) agrees with
Hellanicus (FGrH 4 F 84) that Odysseus came with Aeneas to found the city.87
Other, later authors are more specific: Xenagoras (FGrH 240 F 29 = Dio. Hal. RA
1.72.5) names Rhomus, eponymous founder of Rome, as a son of Odysseus and
Circe; Plutarch mentions a Trojan woman named Rhome who marries Latinus,
son of Odysseus’ son Telemachus, and their child is Romulus (Rom. 2.3). By
Apollodorus’ time, Odysseus had a clear connection with Italy and Rome for a
Greek author wishing to use it.88
Odysseus occupies a unique position in the Bibliotheca as the only hero
whose nostos receives detailed description; it takes up the entire seventh (and
final) section of the epitome, but despite its length does not include Italy at
all. Epitome 7 (only in S) primarily summarizes Homer’s Odyssey, omitting
very little but adding several episodes, mostly subsequent to the end of that
poem, up to Odysseus’ death, which marks the end of the Bibliotheca. The ba-
sic narrative from Homer, which occupies E. 7.1–33, includes no reference to
Odysseus in Italy, though he and Calypso have a son Latinus at E. 7.24, about
whom Apollodorus says nothing more. In sections 34–40, Odysseus follows
Teiresias’ instructions on how to propitiate Poseidon and goes to Thesprotia.
There he meets the queen and has a son, Polypoetes, whom he leaves behind
as ruler (E. 7.34–35). This pattern is common enough (though we might have
expected Odysseus’ son here to have been named Thesprotus). Then Telegonus,
Odysseus’ son by Circe, comes to Ithaca, where he inadvertently kills his fa-
ther and then marries Penelope; Circe sends both of them to the Isles of the
Blessed (E. 7.35–37). Apollodorus finishes this section with variant versions of
the Odysseus and Penelope story (mostly about her infidelity), though none of
these mentions Italy. Apollodorus consciously ignores another opportunity to
include Rome.
For an author writing in the second or third century of this era, Aeneas pro-
vided perhaps the most obvious connection to Italy, though here, too, Apollodorus
2.5.10 (109) where, as Frazer 1921: 114–15 notes, Apollodorus could have included much more
information.
86. West 1966: 436 dates these lines to the middle of the sixth century and before 510.
87. On this reference to Hellanicus, see Solmsen 1986. In citing this controversial passage,
I am interested only in showing that the connection between Odysseus and Rome existed well
before Apollodorus’ time, and not in making any claims about the development or extent of this
connection.
88. Though no extant fragments suggest that Livius Andronicus’ translation of the Odyssey
added anything to the end of the poem, it is tempting to think that he may have somehow referred
to Odysseus’ connection with Italy or even Rome, in part explaining his choice of that particular
work for translation.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200884
is silent.89 In the Bibliotheca, Aeneas appears as the son of Aphrodite and An-
chises (3.12.2 [141]) and as an ally of the Trojans (E. 3.34 [E]), but Apollodorus
only narrates two events involving Aeneas during the war, both from the Iliad:
Achilles takes his cattle (E. 3.32 [E]), and Diomedes wounds Aphrodite while
she is trying to save her son (E.4.1 [E]).90 Of what happens to Aeneas at the end of
the war, Apollodorus says only that
Α#νε�ας δ� �Αγχ�σην τ�ν πατ�ρα βαστ�σας Mφυγεν, ο1 δ� �Ελληνεςα9τ�ν δι? ε9σ�βειαν εXασιν.
E. 5.21 (E)
Aeneas fled, carrying his father Anchises; the Greeks let him go on
account of his piety.
This is the last appearance of Aeneas in the Bibliotheca and Apollodorus never
mentions any of his offspring, not even in the flight from Troy.91 Nor does
Apollodorus tell of Aeneas going to Italy. At the same time, Apollodorus does not
include any of the versions of the myth that depict Aeneas as a traitor, allowed by
the Greeks to leave Troy because of his services to them.92 Aeneas, in the context
of the Bibliotheca, is simply a genealogical dead-end, despite the prophecy about
his descendants at Il. 20.293–308 and subsequent similar literature. The reference
to Aeneas’ piety is only the merest nod to his importance after the Trojan War, but
even that need not suggest a connection with Rome; Aeneas was pious already
in Homer.93 Apollodorus, we should note, is not explicitly anti-Roman, but rather
decides to ignore the Romans without drawing attention to doing so, as if they
do not even deserve such mention.
Were Apollodorus simply following earlier sources, he would have found the
Greek traditions about Rome and Italy which fit his program in the Bibliotheca.
His exclusion of these genealogical connections suggests that he chose not to use
them, and this choice leaves Rome off the conceptual map of the Greek world in the
89. See Horsfall 1987 on the development of the Aeneas myth. Though we know less about
the origin and use of Aeneas’ connection with Italy and Rome, we know that it long predates
Apollodorus.
90. On the sections where Apollodorus overlaps with Homer’s accounts, see van Rossum-
Steenbeek 1998: 26–30, 70–72.
91. Scarpi 1999: 12 discusses the possible ramifications of the fact that only the Vatican epitome
(E) mentions Aeneas here, as well as Menelaus and Odysseus’ saving of Antenor’s sons.
92. On this supposed treason, see Horsfall 1987: 14, who says that “Aeneas’ alleged treason
results from an over-attentive and imaginative reading of Homer. . . . The ‘treason’ belongs firmly in
the world of sensationalist or propagandistic historiography.” This version is found in Acusilaus
FGrH 2 F 39. Apollodorus often cites Acusilaus, so it is possible that he may have had access to
this version, directly or indirectly. For Apollodorus’ use of Acusilaus, see Drager 2005: 883–85.
93. Horsfall 1987: 13–14 is a good treatment of the contested issue of how far back Aeneas’
piety goes. Cf. Smith 1981: 31. The earliest reference to Aeneas’ eusebeia is Xen. Cyn. 1.15, in 391
BCE (though some have argued that this work should be dated as late as the Second Sophistic). For a
fuller account of the Greeks letting Aeneas leave out of respect for his piety, see Quint. Smyrn.
13.300–53.
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 85
Bibliotheca. Thus Rome is absent here, despite its special position in the ancient
world; it could—and did—claim kinship both with Troy (as in the version made
famous by Vergil) and with Greece. This multiple kinship, which the Romans
used to their advantage, was originally made by the Greeks, for a purpose similar
to that of the Bibliotheca: to bring a foreign power into a Greek context.94 As
Gruen observes, “the Greeks imposed the Trojan legend upon the West as a form
of Hellenic cultural imperialism, only to see it appropriated by the westerner to
define and convey a Roman cultural identity.”95 The former approach is evident,
for example, in Dionysius of Halicarnassus (RA 1.5.2), who expressly intends to
show that the Romans were descended from the best sort of Greeks so that the
Greeks can accept the domination of the Romans. By making the Romans Greek,
Dionysius authorizes their rise to power and influence over the Greeks. This is one
approach that Greeks under Rome could take; that of Apollodorus is another. His
omission of Rome from the Greek genealogical map of the Bibliotheca reflects
an awareness of this appropriation and a response to it, likely aimed at the Greeks
who may have been tempted to use it.96
But perhaps it is too much to expect Apollodorus to include Rome itself, since
he only covers the time up to the death of Odysseus, well before the founding of
the city. And yet Apollodorus also only rarely refers to Italy in his section on the
aftermath of the Trojan War, a time in which—as we know from numerous other
sources—many Greek heroes found their way to Italy. Apollodorus’ references to
Italy in this section fill only a very small paragraph, which differs significantly
in the two epitomes; I include both for the sake of comparison:
�Οτι πλανηθ�ντες �Ελληνες `λλοι 6λλαχο+ κατ�ραντες κατοικο+σιν,ο1 µ�ν ε#ς Λιβ$ην, ο1 δ� ε#ς �Ιταλ�αν, ε#ς Σικελ�αν bτεροι, τιν�ς δ� πρ�ςτ?ς πλησ�ον �Ιβηρ�ας ν"σους, `λλοι παρ? τ�ν Σαγγ�ριον ποταµ7νI ε#σ�δ� οc κα� Κ$προν d;κησαν.
E. 6.15 (E)
Having wandered, some Greeks put in and settled some places, some
others, some in Libya, some in Italy, others in Sicily, some on the islands
near Iberia, and others by the Sangarion river. There are also those who
settled on Cyprus.
τ:ν δ� ναυαγησ�ντων περ� τ�ν Καφηρ�α `λλος 6λλαχ* φ�ρεται,Γουνε@ς µ�ν ε#ς Λιβ$ην, _Αντιφος δ� J Θεσσαλο+ ε#ς Πελασγο@ς
94. Jones 1999: 81–93 shows how the Romans took advantage of their dual kinship by choosing
which kinship to stress in which diplomatic situation. The Greeks, too, could pick and choose which
connection they would stress depending on their aims with the Romans (84).
95. Gruen 1992: 31; see also 44–46. For a different view of the situation, see Erskine 2001.
96. Erskine 2001 argues that Rome’s connection with Troy was emphasized more by Greek
cities than Rome itself (at least until Augustus), so Apollodorus may have been more interested in
convincing his Greek readers than in trying to make a statement to the Romans themselves. For some
of the ways that Greeks could speak to other Greeks under the Empire, see Veyne 1999, who uses Dio
Chrysostom’s Oration to the Rhodians (oration 31) as a touchstone.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200886
κα� ⟨τ<ν⟩ χFραν κατασχLν Θεσσαλ�αν κ�λεσεν, J δ� Φιλοκτ"τηςπρ�ς �Ιταλ�αν ε#ς Καµπανο$ς, Φε�διππος µετ? τ:ν ΚF;ων ν _Ανδρω;;κατF;κησαν, �Αγαπ"νωρ ν Κ$πρω;, κα� `λλος 6λλαχο+.
E. 6.15 (S)
After they had shipwrecked near Caphareus, each was carried a different
direction: Gouneus into Libya; Antiphus the son of Thessalus into the
land of the Pelasgians, who taking the land called it Thessaly; Philoctetes
went to Italy, in Campania; and Pheidippus settled in Andrus with the
Coans; Agapenor went to Cyprus; and others went other places.
The Vatican epitome (E) provides a basic overview of places involved, while
the Sabbaiticus epitome (S) offers more details, including the names of the
individual Greeks involved. Neither offers much information about Italy beyond
S’s reference to Philoctetes, and there is no information about genealogy or other
local connections. And, other than the reference during Heracles’ trip, this is the
only passage in the Bibliotheca to mention Italy.
This lack of detail could be the result of epitomization, and editors of Apol-
lodorus since Wagner include after this section three paragraphs (called E. 6.15a-c)
from Tzetzes’ commentary on Lycophron’s Alexandra.97 These additional pas-
sages include a little more information about Philoctetes in Italy, though at least
part of this comes (at what remove we cannot tell) from Euphorion, whom Tzetzes
cites. Only the last of these three paragraphs provides any additional information
of significance about Italy:
Να$αιθος: ποταµ7ς στιν �Ιταλ�αςI κλ"θη δ� ο&τω κατ? µ�ν �Απολλ7-δωρον κα� το@ς λοιπο$ς, �τι µετ? τ<ν �Ιλ�ου Gλωσιν α1 Λαοµ�δοντοςθυγατ�ρες, Πρι�µου δ� 6δελφα� ΑXθυλλα �Αστυ7χη Μηδεσικ�στη µετ?τ:ν λοιπ:ν α#χµαλωτ�δων κε8σε γεγονυ8αι τ*ς �Ιταλ�ας, ε9λαβο$-µεναι τ<ν ν τ*Q �Ελλ�δι δουλε�αν τ? σκ�φη ν�πρησαν, �θεν Jποταµ�ς Να$αιθος κλ"θη κα� α1 γυνα8κες Ναυπρ"στιδεςI ο1 δ� σ@να9τα8ς �Ελληνες 6πολ�σαντες τ? σκ�φη κε8 κατF;κησαν.
E. 6.15c = Schol. ad Lyc. 921
The Nauaethus is a river in Italy. It is called this, according to Apollodorus
and the rest, because after the capture of Troy, the daughters of Laomedon
(and sisters of Priam), Aethylla, Astyoche, Medesicaste, coming to that
part of Italy with the other captive women, worried about their slavery in
Greece, burnt the ships, whence the river is called the Nauaethus (“Ship-
blazing”) and the women Nauprestides (“Ship-burners”). The Greeks
with them, having lost their ships, settled there.
Dionysius (RA 1.72.2–4) provides a group of similar stories, citing Hellanicus,
Damastes Sigeus, and Aristotle for the variants, and he himself connects the
97. These sections are Tzetzes’ comments on lines 902, 911, and 921 of the Alexandra. For this
part of the Vatican epitome and its possible relationship with Tzetzes, see Wagner 1891b: 278–89.
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 87
incident with the area around Rome. While this story of ship-burning is, in some
sources, connected with Rome’s founding, a reference to it does not guarantee
a mention of Rome’s founding, and there is none here.98 As it stands now, the
passage adds little to Apollodorus’ discussion except another Greek etymology
for a foreign place, and directly contradicts the tradition that these women were
part of a group of Trojans looking for a new home.
But despite the reference here to Apollodorus and another in E. 6.15a (=
ad Lyc. 902), there is little to recommend accepting these passages as a lost
part of the Bibliotheca. Wagner himself omits Tzetzes’ Πρι�µου δ� 6δελφα�here, because at 3.12.3 (146) Apollodorus provides the names Hesione, Cilla,
and Astyoche as the sisters of Podarces (later named Priam).99 Such contra-
dictions do appear in the Bibliotheca, however, so this alone does not justify
ignoring differences in detail.100 Similarly, Wagner hypothesized that Tzetzes
himself wrote the Vatican epitome, taking information from the Bibliotheca that
he found useful for his own work. His arguments on this point are sound, which
counter his inclusion of these paragraphs;101 if Tzetzes epitomized the Biblio-
theca for his own works—including the commentary on the Alexandra—then
it follows that anything he owes to Apollodorus should be in E. Either Tzet-
zes is not the author of E or these passages do not depend wholly on Apol-
lodorus. It is most likely that Tzetzes was using his epitome of the Bibliotheca
in conjunction with other sources for this part of the commentary, and thus both
references to Apollodorus mention him with other authors. There seems little
reason, then, to include these sections from Tzetzes in the Bibliotheca, and their
omission would reduce even further the amount of attention Apollodorus gives
to Italy.
Where does all this leave us with respect to Italy in the Bibliotheca? Apol-
lodorus passes up obvious chances to include well-known myths, many of which
were present in his sources. Although he does not treat the appearance of Italy
in the epitome, Scarpi best describes Apollodorus’ Italy:
Un terra “piccola,” percorsa rapidamente da nord a sud, dalla Liguria alla
Sicilia, quasi deserta se non disabitata, senza ostacoli. . . . e, nell’ottica
in cui penso si collochi la Biblioteca, non puo che essere una intenzionale
98. Vergil (Aen. 5.605–761) sets the story in Sicily, when some of the women with Aeneas burn
several ships at the transformed Iris’ instigation, which leads him to leave people behind. Horsfall
1979: 381–82 shows how widespread this myth was and the variety of locations to which it was
attached. On the application of the ship-burning topos to Rome, see Solmsen 1986: 104–10.
99. See Scarpi 1996 (2000) on E. 6.15c for this argument. He also observes that there are other
nostoi in these scholia but not in the Bibliotheca, so that “E tuttavia difficile credere che anche questi
frammenti dipendano dalla Biblioteca perduta.” These other nostoi would have provided additional
chances to discuss Italy, especially that of Diomedes, who was credited with founding numerous
cities in southeast Italy.
100. For contradictions in the Bibliotheca, see Robert 1873: 8–9, who provides several examples.
101. See Wagner 1926: xxviii-xxix. To my knowledge, no one has questioned this attribution.
Volume 27/No. 1/April 200888
svalutazione della penisola italica, tutt’al piu terra di banditi e di pirati,
che tuttavia non vale nemmeno la pena di disinfestare.102
The only Italians, as Scarpi notes, are the Tyrrhenians, most famous for their
abduction of Dionysus and subsequent metamorphosis into dolphins (3.5.3 [37–
38]). But Apollodorus does not link the Tyrrhenians with Lydia, as Herodotus does
(1.94), nor does he connect Tyrrhenus (or Tyrsenus), the eponymous ancestor of
the Tyrrhenians, with Heracles, as some authors do.103 The peoples of Italy do
not merit inclusion in Apollodorus’ genealogical system, not even as the black
sheep of any of the families.
Apollodorus’ exclusion of anything Roman is complete, and Italy appears less
than many other places do in the Bibliotheca. As he creates a notion of collective
identity, connecting numerous foreign peoples with Greece through systematic
genealogizing, Apollodorus also makes a powerful statement through exclusion.
The Romans, despite being the key players on the Mediterranean stage in his day,
figure not at all in the Bibliotheca’s mythic age. According to his genealogical
system, the Romans have no claim to Greek identity, but the Greeks themselves
have the most illustrious history and can lay claim to connections with the (other)
dominant peoples of the ancient world.
Apollodorus’ response to Roman domination is in no way unique, as numerous
other Greek authors focus in new ways (or at least with renewed effort) on a sense
of Greek identity in the Second Sophistic.104 What is unique is the systematic
nature of his project and its focus on myth. The Bibliotheca is a celebration of
a specific worldview, one constructed for his fellow Greeks under the Roman
Empire.105
102. Scarpi 1999: 10.
103. E.g. Dio. Hal. RA 1.28.1 and Paus. 2.21.3 say that Tyrrhenus is the son of Heracles and
Omphale. Cf. Hyg. Fab. 274.20, who does not name a mother. West 1966: 435–36 notes that
the Tyrsenoi of the Theogony need not be identified with the Etruscans and that, at any rate, the
Etruscans were the only Italian people important enough to the Greeks in the Archaic period to merit
a genealogical connection. Apollodorus, however, denies even this people such a link.
104. Swain 1996 is a recent example of current attention to these trends of the Second Sophistic.
Swain discusses the continued importance of a shared past (79); he does not see this focus as hostile
to Rome (as Veyne 1999 does at times), but rather as filling a need for self-definition under Rome
(89); but cf. Jones 2004. For Apollodorus’ position in this milieu, see Mactoux 1989, who takes
a similar view of the period in general: “Face a l’imperialisme de Rome definitivement etabli dans la
Mediterranee orientale depuis Actium et l’annexion de l’Egypte ptolemaıque, les Grecs se servent de
leur passe comme d’un pratique compensatoire et complementaire de la domination romaine” (248).
Cf. Jacob 1994: 422–23, 427–28 on Apollodorus as embodying a shared (idealized) past.
105. Mactoux 1989 unconvincingly suggests that the Bibliotheca is also a response to the spread
of Christianity, because of its pervasive polytheism. According to her, the Bibliotheca supports the
polytheistic Greek religious system by maintaining the connection between the heroes in the work
and the Greek gods; according to Apollodorus, Greece—and much of the Mediterranean—can trace
its origins to the Greek gods, and the proof of this is the continued existence of cities such as Athens
and Argos. Jacob 1994 and Scarpi 1999: 15–16 also support such a view.
: Systematic Genealogies in Apollodorus 89
How do we, then, as modern scholars, critics, and students read and use the
Bibliotheca? Certainly we can no longer accept Frazer’s view that this “book
possesses documentary value as an accurate record of what the Greeks in general
believed about the origin and early history of the world and of their race.”106
Arguing against this view may seem like attacking a straw man, but references
to the Bibliotheca still appear mostly in footnotes as confirmation of a myth, to
explain a myth, or to provide a fuller version of a myth. The work remains an
invaluable source, of course, but it is also a piece of literature with an author
behind it, and the myths as they appear in it fit his purpose. Any use of this
text must take this purpose into account. This is no record of what “the Greeks in
general believed” but rather what one individual Greek perhaps wanted to believe.
Louisiana State University
kfletc8@lsu.edu
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