Pindar

born probably 518 bc, Cynoscephalae,
Boeotia, Greece
died after 446, probably c. 438, Argos
the greatest lyric poet of ancient
Greece and the master of epinicia,
choral odes celebrating victories
achieved in the Pythian, Olympic,
Isthmian, and Nemean games.
Early training
Pindar was of noble birth, possibly
belonging to a Spartan family, the
Aegeids, though the evidence for this is
inconclusive. His parents, Daiphantus
and Cleodice, survive only as names; his
uncle Scopelinus, a skilled aulos
player, doubtless helped with Pindar’s
early musical training. The family
possessed a town house in Thebes (to be
spared by express command of Alexander
the Great in the general destruction of
that city by the Macedonians in 335 bc).
Such a background would have given
Pindar a ready entrée into aristocratic
circles in other Greek cities.
Pindar’s poetry borrowed certain
fundamental characteristics from the
cultural traditions of his native
Boeotia, a region that remained rather
at the margins of political and economic
trends of the Archaic (c. 650–480) and
Classical (c. 450–323) periods. His
poetry evinces a conservative attitude
of absolute adherence to aristocratic
values, a rigorous sense of piety, and a
familiarity with the great mythological
heritage that descended from the
Mycenaean period (c. 16th–12th century
bc) and achieved a first systematic
presentation, significantly, in the work
of Pindar’s Boeotian predecessor Hesiod
at the end of the 8th century. Ancient
authorities make Pindar the contemporary
of the Boeotian poet Corinna, who was
supposed to have beaten him in poetic
competitions and to have advised him, in
reference to his tendency to overuse
myth, “to sow with the hand and not with
the whole sack.” Pindar was said to have
insulted Corinna by calling her a pig.
The ancient biographical tradition
reports that as a young man Pindar went
to Athens to complete and refine his
poetic education. It is unclear whether
he studied there with Lasus of Hermione,
who had introduced important innovations
into the dithyramb, or whether he
learned from him at second hand. At any
rate, in 497 or 496 Pindar, scarcely
more than 20 years of age, won first
place in the dithyrambic competition at
the Great Dionysia, an event that had
been introduced in 508.
Professional career
Seventeen volumes of Pindar’s
poetry, comprising almost every genre of
choral lyric, were known in antiquity.
Only four books of epinicia have
survived complete, doubtless because
they were chosen by a teacher as a
schoolbook in the 2nd century ad. They
are supplemented by numerous fragments,
and 20th-century finds of papyri have
contributed to a deeper understanding of
Pindar’s achievement, especially in
paeans and dithyrambs.
All the evidence, however, suggests
that the epinicia were Pindar’s
masterpieces. These are divided as
Olympic, Pythian, Isthmian, or Nemean—the
games in which the victories he
celebrated were held; the epinicia
number 44 odes in all. The earliest
surviving epinicion (Pythian ode 10)
dates from 498, and Pindar already had
an assured mastery of his medium when he
wrote it. It would have been quite
possible for him to evolve into a
cosmopolitan artist like Simonides,
welcome all over the Greek world and
moving easily from city to city. No
doubt Pindar visited the Panhellenic
festivals, at Delphi (where the Pythian
games were held) and Olympia in
particular, to absorb the atmosphere of
the games and celebrate his victories.
He would also have seen in person the
homes of the aristocrats and the courts
of the tyrants whose triumphs he sang.
But in general he preferred to remain
loyal to his native land and reside in
Thebes; characteristically, Pindar’s
standards and values, like his poetry,
changed little if at all over the years.
Such patriotism meant sacrifices.
Thebes, like Delphi, collaborated with
the enemy in the Persian War—though
admittedly Thebes had little
alternative. But whereas Delphi’s
prestige was quickly restored after the
retreat of the Persians, Thebes’s
defection was not lightly forgiven or
forgotten. Athens was to dominate the
history of the 5th century, and, for the
first two-thirds of it, Athens had very
much the better of its long drawn-out
quarrel with Thebes. From 457 to 447 bc,
Boeotia was virtually an Athenian
dependency, and almost everywhere in the
region the aristocratic way of
life—integral to Pindar’s personality
and art alike—was threatened.
Politically and economically, the
monopolies of power by the noble
families were broken. The aristocratic
code (summed up in a famous line of
Homer, “ever to excel and to surpass
other men”) was undermined by the
radical rationalism of a new age. Choral
lyric itself had little future as a
separate art form, and tragedy absorbed
into itself what was most vital in the
tradition; Pindar had no worthy
successors. It is a tribute to the
quality of Pindar’s poetry that,
although he must have regarded these
contemporary cultural and political
developments with disdain, or at best
with indifference (apart perhaps from
his reinterpretation of some of the
traditional stories concerning the
gods), he was universally respected and
accepted as a major creative artist.
Pindar’s early poems have almost all
been lost; it is probable, however, that
what gave him a growing reputation
beyond the borders of Boeotia were hymns
in honour of the gods. Pindar was born
at the time of the Pythian festival, and
from his youth he had a close connection
with the Pythian priesthood, which
served the oracular shrine of Apollo at
Delphi. Pindar and his descendants,
indeed, enjoyed special privileges at
Delphi, where his memory was cherished
in later times and where an iron chair,
in which it was said he had sat to sing,
was exhibited. The first commissions for
epinicia came mostly from aristocratic
connections: the Aleuads in Thessaly (Pythian
ode 10; 498 bc), the Alcmaeonids in
Athens (Pythian ode 7; 486), and, above
all, the Aeacids of the island of Aegina
(the series begins with paean 6, dating
from 490, and continues with Nemean ode
7). Progress in winning recognition
seems to have been steady, if slow.
A significant breakthrough came when
Pindar established a link with the court
of Theron of Acragas through the
tyrant’s brother Xenocrates, whose
chariot won the Pythian contest (Pythian
odes 6 and 12, composed for the victory
of the aulete Midas in musical
competitions; 490). But the Persian
invasion of Greece came before the
promise of this new connection could be
fulfilled. Pindar faced a crisis of
divided loyalties, torn between a sense
of solidarity with the aristocracy of
Boeotia, who followed a pro-Persian
policy, and a growing appreciation of
Spartan and Athenian heroic resistance.
Pindar was first and foremost a Theban,
and he stood by his friends, many of
whom paid for their policy with their
lives. But it was Simonides, not Pindar,
who wrote the poems of rejoicing at
Greece’s victories and of mourning for
its glorious dead.
It took Pindar some years to
reestablish himself; fortunately, his
friends in Aegina were staunch (Isthmian
ode 8; 478). It is virtually certain
that he visited Sicily in 476–474 and
was made welcome at the courts of Theron
of Acragas and Hieron I of Syracuse.
They were to elicit much of his greatest
poetry, and it was through these
connections that Pindar’s reputation
spread throughout the Greek world and
commissions flowed in from the mainland,
the islands, and also from the remoter
outposts of Hellenism. Promising new
contacts were made with the royal houses
of Macedon and Cyrene (Alexander of
Macedon, fragment 120; Arcesilas of
Cyrene, Pythian odes 4 and 5; 462 bc).
Theron and Hieron respected and
admired Pindar, but his aristocratic
temper made him dangerously outspoken.
Diplomatic tact and finesse were not
among his qualities, and his adroit
rivals, Simonides and Bacchylides, were
more pliant and adaptable (Bacchylides,
not Pindar, celebrated Hieron’s Olympic
victory in the chariot race in 468).
Echoes of Pindar’s bitter resentment
sound in his poetry. So too Pindar’s
intervention on behalf of Damophilus, a
noble exile from Cyrene (Pythian ode 4),
seems to have been taken amiss, and he
was not invited to commemorate
Arcesilas’s triumph at Olympia in 460.
Nevertheless, these were the years of
supreme achievement, and Pindar found a
growing demand for his poetry and a
growing appreciation of his skill. His
debt to Athens was amply paid in a
famous tribute (fragment 76) that the
Athenians never tired of citing, one
that earned the poet special honours in
that city (and, according to ancient
tradition, a fine at Thebes). It was
probably in this period that Pindar
married.
The subsequent decade of Athenian
domination in central Greece coincided
with a period when Delphi was controlled
by Phocis in northern Greece. These were
dark years for Pindar, and his poetic
output dwindled. But he continued to
celebrate Theban victories (Isthmian
odes 1 and 7), and he found inspiration
in the achievements of his Aeacid
friends of Aegina, though their days of
nominal independence were clearly
numbered (Isthmian odes 5 and 6 and
Nemean odes 3–8; all celebrate Aeginetan
successes). Pindar’s last extant poem (Pythian
ode 8) appropriately commemorates an
Aeacid victory. The last datable
epinicion is from 446 bc. According to
the ancient biographical tradition,
Pindar died in Argos at age 80, in the
arms of a handsome boy, Theoxenus, whose
name appears in a fragment of an
encomium the poet dedicated to him.
Poetry
The figure of the poet assumed a new
role in the 6th and 5th centuries bc
under the influence of the city-based
economy, which was encouraged by
colonial expansion and by the
possibilities of trade opened up with
the circulation of money. The poet
achieved a higher social position in
connection with his role as praiser of
rulers and communities; the poet and the
subject of the poem became connected by
a precise relationship of commission and
remuneration. Money could buy a place in
posterity, and the notion that poetry
mediated between the memorable
achievement and the deserved glory is a
recurrent motif in epinician
poetry—especially in Pindar’s epinicia,
where the consciousness of his own
poetic talent assumes an attitude of
vigorous pride. The poet’s songs spread
their legacy ever further through the
community and into the future; in that
way, Pindar argued, poems were superior
to the other popular medium of praise,
the statue, which transmitted its
message only to those who could see it.
The epinicion form, which in
Simonides’ hands seems to have evolved
into a relatively simple poem of
rejoicing enhanced by touches of realism
and humour, was assimilated by Pindar to
the religious hymn. The praise and
worship of the god whose festival is
being celebrated set the tone, and
thanksgiving is an integral part of the
structure. A second constituent element
is the myth, impressionistically treated
in a series of short sharply visualized
scenes and meant to link the glorious
present to the yet more glorious past
and to give a new dimension to the
transient moment of victory. Pindar used
stories from the epic tradition or the
local oral tradition, choosing the
episode most appropriate to the ceremony
for which he was composing and then
explicitly connecting the person, the
family, and the city or divinity to be
celebrated. He emphasized the heroic
achievement most relevant to the
occasion while omitting other aspects
and episodes of the story. A third
element is the aphoristic moralizing,
often in Pindar resulting in passages of
extreme beauty, even sublimity.
Aphorisms link the present reality with
the mythic narrative and repeatedly
stress the dangers of excessive pride in
achievement. The emotional impulse stems
from the aristocratic ideal of
self-assertion, competition, and
leadership—an ideal expressing itself
most finely in battle but also finding
fulfillment in athletic contests, in
which the palm goes to superior physique
and morale, believed to derive from
superior birth and the favour of the
gods.
Pindar’s metrical range is
exceptionally wide, with no two poems
being identical in metre, and he
controls difficult and involuted
techniques with consummate professional
mastery. His dialect is literary and
eclectic, with Boeotian elements; the
vocabulary is enriched, poetic, and
highly personal. Each poem is fused into
a unity by the fire of Pindar’s poetic
inspiration, by a sweep and soar of
imagination that give his poetry power
and magnificence, and by the shaping and
controlling discipline of a fastidious
art expressed in an intensely personal
style.
One distinctive trait in Pindar’s
poetry is the piling up of disparate
topics, with unexpected and sudden
transitions; these at first seem to be
unmotivated digressions, apparently
unconnected. Such episodes, which came
to be known misleadingly as “Pindaric
flights,” are rapid associations of
ideas, sometimes expressed very
concisely, which when carefully examined
are shown to be intelligible. The more
enduring difficulty of interpreting
Pindar derives from the fact that his
poetry was composed for special
occasions and is rich with references to
persons, places, mythical figures, and
historical events that were known to the
original audience but are obscure for
modern readers. Nonetheless, careful
evaluation of the ancient testimonies
can provide useful indications.
Delphic religious teaching found in
Pindar a ready pupil, and he constantly
spiritualized his material, turning away
from the cruder traditional stories of
the gods, avoiding the mundane details
of the contest, and striving to catch
the fleeting radiance that plays about
the moment of supreme endeavour when a
man transcends his own limitations of
physique and character and so proves
worthy of his birth and ancestry. Delphi
also profoundly influenced his style,
which is frequently cryptic and
oracular. He regarded himself as the
Muse’s prophet.
Pindar’s fellow Boeotian Hesiod,
although very different from Pindar in
background and temperament, shared with
him a deep religiosity, a groping toward
something more profound and satisfying
than contemporary cults could offer, a
fondness for abrupt and violent
transitions in thought and mood, and a
forthright pungency of speech. A
somewhat muted epitaph preserved in the
Greek Anthology (7, 35) describes Pindar
as the servant of the Muses, welcomed by
strangers and beloved by his fellow
citizens.
Pindar’s odes make great demands on
the modern reader, and it is only in
recent times that his art has begun to
be appreciated for what it is. (The
so-called Pindaric ode has had a long
and distinguished history in English
literature, but it derives from an
almost total misunderstanding and
misapprehension of Pindar’s own style
and technique.) Even so, much essential
evidence is missing. The musical
settings that he composed to accompany
his words are lost forever, though in
view of the quality of the poetry it is
probable that the words dominated the
setting (as must have been the case in
most Greek lyric). It is therefore
impossible to re-create even in the
imagination the approximate sound of a
Pindaric ode or indeed to reconstruct
visually the appearance and constitution
of the choir: how many participated,
what range of voices was employed,
whether the singers were static, moved
in procession, or danced—these are
questions that cannot now be answered.
Nor is it possible to picture at all
clearly the festive occasion that was
the background for the poetry. Yet
efforts to understand the odes are
rewarded by at least a glimpse of the
poet behind them. The aristocratic
society and standards, which meant
everything to Pindar, were dead or
dying. But in his art he re-created
them, giving them new and permanent
existence and value.
The tradition of Greek choral lyric
culminated with the odes of Pindar.
These are not easy to evaluate and
appreciate, but it is still more
difficult to comprehend and assess the
poet who composed them. Even to his
contemporaries, Pindar must have seemed
an aloof and somewhat enigmatic figure.
A modern reader needs a sympathetic
insight into the nature and traditions
of Greek aristocratic society to begin
to understand how Pindar’s subject
matter—victory in an athletic contest or
in a chariot race—could inspire poetry
characterized by high seriousness and
deep feeling. Pindar cannot, indeed,
speak across the centuries with the
directness of Homeric epic poetry or
Sophoclean tragedy, but he does create,
with disciplined mastery of a
sophisticated and complex art form, a
choral lyric of unsurpassed splendour
and sustained nobility.
Donald Ernest Wilson Wormell
Ed.