Like most other fragments of Nicander's Georgica, fr. 74 is preserved by Athenaeus, who presents it as a catalogue of flowers used for making wreaths (15.683a Νίκανδρος δ’ ἐν δευτέρῳ Γεωργικῶν καταλέγων καὶ αὐτὸς στεφανωτικὰ ἄνθη).Footnote ¹ Transmitted in the only independent manuscript of the fuller text of Athenaeus (A, cod. Ven. Marc. 447), the fragment's text is extremely corrupt, which, coupled with its technical subject matter and intricate style, renders its restoration an arduous and uncertain job.Footnote ² In what follows I challenge the established reconstruction and interpretation of the section dealing with the ivy, and propose my own instead.

I begin by printing the whole section in Gow and Scholfield's version, along with their apparatus criticus (slightly adjusted) and translation (fr. 74.17–24):Footnote ³

Lines 17–19 instruct in a fairly straightforward manner that ivy should be propagated by cuttings, as opposed to being grown from seeds or bulbs (contrast line 25 on lilies or line 31 on irises), and in general are free from major textual problems. One important technical detail, however, seems to have been missed by the commentators. Gow and Scholfield take ἐυρρίζου and κορυμβήλοιο to refer to two different varieties; it appears more likely that the two terms stand for the juvenile and the adult forms of ivy (to which Theophrastus refers as ἕλιξ and κιττός proper, though there was some uncertainty as to their relationship: see Hist. pl. 3.18.7).Footnote ⁴ The two forms, or phases, are marked by a number of differences: most relevantly, juvenile ivy is a climber with aerial roots all along its stem (hence ἐυρρίζου), which does not flower and bear fruits; by contrast, adult ivy is an arborescent form, which does not have aerial roots but can produce berries (hence κορυμβήλοιο). Under natural conditions, the juvenile form normally develops over a number of years into the adult form (Theophrastus uses the verb ἀποκιττοῦσθαι to describe the process). However, it is also possible to propagate adult ivy directly by cuttings, and this is what Nicander is speaking about: you can plant sprays (κλῶνας) of juvenile ivy (ἐυρρίζου), but you can also plant developed twigs (στέφος αὐτό) of adult ivy (κορυμβήλοιο). And this latter comes in different varieties: Θράσκιον ἢ ἀργωπὸν ἠὲ κλαδέεσσι πλανήτην.Footnote ⁵

The subsequent lines are more uncertain textually and more difficult to make sense of. Scholars take them to describe some very specific style of planting and growing ivy, but the resulting picture does not convince. The general idea is that two (or several?) cuttings should be planted together and, as they grow, should be twisted around each other, so that they produce a joint lush crown at the top. Whether this should be taken to refer to the juvenile or to the adult form, it is difficult to see how ivy can be grown in such a way: juvenile ivy is a climber and cannot grow upwards unsupported, adult ivy tends to be bushy and there is no point in twisting two or more shoots together. There are also a number of smaller-scale problems. First, why should ivy shoots be planted in baskets? Gow speculates: ‘The twisted shoots are to be started in baskets of earth and presently planted out, baskets and all, as Theophrastus (C.P. 5.6.6; cf. [Arist.] Prob. 924b¹⁰) recommends for cucumbers.’Footnote ⁶ However, as Theophrastus explains, cucumber seeds should be planted in baskets when it is too early—that is, too cold—for them to be planted in soil, so that they could start, and produce crops, earlier than they would otherwise. There is absolutely no point in going to such trouble over ivy: ivy is a perennial and produces no edible fruit. Second, it is difficult to see why there should be only two clusters of berries (22)—even if we assume that only two shoots had been planted (again, why?)—and why they should ‘unite and be linked’ (23) rather than growing in different directions. Third, κόρση ‘head’ does not seem a very natural metaphor to describe a couple of cuttings twisted and planted together. I am ready to concede that some, possibly even all, of these issues could be cleared up if we had a better practical understanding of how ivy was grown in the ancient world; but, as things stand, the current interpretation cannot be accepted as satisfactory.

I suggest that lines 20–4 should be understood in an entirely different way: as referring not to planting and growing ivy but to making a wreath out of it. My argument will primarily be based on lines 22–4, whose interpretation as a description of an ivy wreath is, as I hope to demonstrate, unavoidable; lines 20–1 are more difficult to make sense of, but I think can still be reconciled with my overall reading. The most immediate reason for taking lines 22–4 as a reference to the ivy wreath is found in Athenaeus’ quotation from a treatise on perfumes and wreaths by a certain Philonides, who, in an account of the invention of the ivy wreath, seems to be paraphrasing Nicander's lines (15.675d):Footnote ⁷

Furthermore, Pliny specifically states that the saffron-berried variety (note line 22 κροκόωντες … κόρυμβοι) was used by poets to make wreaths (hence its modern name, poets’ ivy, Hedera helix f. poetarum),Footnote ⁸ which is supported by the testimony of poets themselves: ‘Theoc.’ Anth. Pal. 9.338.3–4 (= HE 3470–1) ὁ τὸν κροκόεντα Πρίηπος | κισσὸν ἐφ’ ἱμερτῷ κρατὶ καθαπτόμενος, Nicaenetus, Anth. Pal. 13.29.5–6 (= HE 2715–16) τοιγὰρ ὑπὸ στεφάνοις μέγας ἔβρυεν, εἶχε δὲ κισσῷ | μέτωπον ὥσπερ καὶ σὺ κεκροκωμένον.Footnote ⁹ In order to make lines 22–4 intelligible as a reference to the ivy wreath, only two minor changes need to be made in Gow and Scholfield's text. First, we should restore A's μέσσα in place of Meineke's μέσφα, to be understood in an adverbial sense;Footnote ¹⁰ second, we should emend ὑπερφιάλοιο to ὑπὲρ φιαροῖο:

The adjective φιαρός is a rare and obscure word, confined to Hellenistic poetry; lexica and scholia usually interpret it as a synonym for λαμπρός.Footnote ¹¹ It has as many as three occurrences in Nicander's iological poems, where it can mean either ‘shining’ (Ther. 946 μήκωνος φιαρῆς ‘bright poppy’) or ‘oily’ (Alex. 91 φιαρὴν … γρῆυν ‘oily film’, 387 ὄρνιθος φιαρῆς ‘greasy fowl’). Although there are no exact parallels for pairing φιαρός with μέτωπον, ‘bright/shining brow’ is an intrinsically plausible expression: compare Ap. Rhod. Argon. 2.159 ξανθὰ δ’ ἐρεψάμενοι δάφνῃ καθύπερθε μέτωπα, ps.-Theoc. 20.23–4 χαῖται δ’ οἷα σέλινα περὶ κροτάφοισι κέχυντο, | καὶ λευκὸν τὸ μέτωπον ἐπ’ ὀφρύσι λάμπε μελαίναις, and Sil. Pun. 7.194–5 nitentem | lumine purpureo frontem cinxere corymbi. For ὑπὲρ μετώπου, we may also adduce ps.-Oppian, Cynegetica 2.385 ἀλλὰ δυσὶ κρατεροῖς ὑπὲρ εὐρυτάτοιο μετώπου [sc. ἀρηραμένην κεράεσσιν]. The resulting image—‘two saffron-coloured berry clusters are paired as they meet right in the middle above the shining brow, overshadowing it on both sides with green foliage’—finds numerous parallels in visual representations of Dionysus (or related figures), as well as in several surviving examples of an ivy wreath made of gold.Footnote ¹² To judge by this evidence, an ivy wreath was often (imagined to be) made from two twigs, their thicker ends joined at the back of the head and their tips, each with a berry cluster, meeting over the forehead.

Lines 20–1 are both more corrupt and more difficult to interpret, but it seems possible to read them in connection with lines 22–4 (rather than, say, positing a lacuna between lines 21 and 22). Line 20 is especially damaged, but it appears likely that the first half should refer to plucking ivy shoots, while the second to twisting them together to form a wreath. To begin with the latter, κόρση ‘head’ may not be the most obvious metaphor for ‘wreath’, but, as I suggest below, in the next line we find another striking metaphor, ‘wickerwork’ for ‘plaited hair’, which, more or less, mirrors or reverses what we have here. What is actually problematic is rather Johann Gottlob Schneider's ὄρσεο for A's ὀρεο-, as it may not even be appropriate in the sense it was originally intended (ὀρνύναι means ‘to incite, stir up’ rather than ‘to raise’).Footnote ¹³ I suggest that we should write εἴρεο instead, for which excellent parallels are offered by Pind. Nem. 7.77 εἴρειν στεφάνους and Ar. Ach. 1006 τοὺς στεφάνους ἀνείρετε.Footnote ¹⁴ The first half of the verse is transmitted in A as one word βλαστοδρεπιδεχυτοιο, which scholars have struggled to redivide. Gow and Scholfield accept Wilamowitz's βλαστοδρεπῆ δ’ ἐχυρῷο (ἐχυροῖο), but this conjecture, while as such not impossible, by no means imposes itself. Without complete confidence, I propose instead to revive Scaliger's βλαστὰ δρέπου δ’ ἐκ τοῖο.Footnote ¹⁵ One potential weakness of Scaliger's conjecture is the placement of δέ as the third word in its phrase;Footnote ¹⁶ the pronounced μίαν later in the line may rather suggest that we miss a numeral here, δύο: ‘pluck two shoots of that and weave them into one bundle’. In view of what follows, we should probably take τοῖο to imply κορυμβήλοιο (or even κλαδέεσσι πλανήτην?) rather than κισσοῦ in general.

Line 21 seems more sound textually, but poses a serious interpretative problem: what does a wreath have to do with wicker baskets? Assuming that no major corruption is involved and that my interpretation is generally correct, it seems clear that σπυρίδεσσι cannot have its standard meaning. It may not be by accident, however, that it is placed in close vicinity with σπεῖραν: we thus have a figura etymologica, which may suggest that σπυρίδεσσι should be understood here in an etymologizing sense, as ‘twisted/plaited things’ rather than ‘baskets’.Footnote ¹⁷ What could this refer to? A natural impulse is to take σπυρίδεσσι νεοπλέκτοισι to refer to the ‘freshly woven’ wreath itself and somehow to construe the line to mean that the wreath should be tied with a string (σπεῖραν). Yet, there are two problems with this reading. First, the syntax does not readily convey such a sense: ‘to attach a string to something’ is not the same as ‘to bind something with a string’. Second, the transition from making the wreath (20–1) to how it should sit on the head (22–4) may seem somewhat abrupt. I suggest that line 21 should rather refer to putting the wreath (σπεῖραν) on the head, and tentatively propose to understand σπυρίδεσσι as ‘plaited hair’. ‘Wickerwork’ for ‘plaited hair’ is a striking and, as far as I can tell, unparalleled metaphor, but in a way it is quite natural; we may note, for instance, that Galen conversely uses πλόκαμοι of fibres of a wicker basket.Footnote ¹⁸ If we also write ἐπί for ὑπό (which in any case is difficult to construe, under any interpretation), we have an exact parallel for the syntax of ‘Theoc.’ Anth. Pal. 9.338.4 (= HE 3471) κισσὸν ἐφ’ ἱμερτῷ κρατὶ καθαπτόμενος, a line that likewise refers to putting an ivy wreath on the head but in a more straightforward way: σπεῖραν ~ κισσόν, ἐπὶ σπυρίδεσσι νεοπλέκτοισι ~ ἐφ’ ἱμερτῷ κρατί, καθαπτόμενος ~ καθάπτων.

Before taking another look at the passage and its broader context, I wish to propose three further departures from Gow and Scholfield's text, though these will not much affect its overall interpretation. First, σπυρίδεσσι νεοπλέκτοισι ‘freshly plaited hair’, though of itself not improbable (‘specially plaited for the occasion’?), is a somewhat unusual idea, which I cannot parallel elsewhere; in addition, νεόπλεκτος is an absolute hapax legomenon. If, contrary to my argument, σπυρίδεσσι is taken here in its standard meaning ‘wicker baskets’, the point of νεοπλέκτοισι becomes even less clear. I suggest that σπυρίδεσσι νεοπλέκτοισι is an error for σπυρίδεσσιν ἐυπλέκτοισι ‘well-plaited hair’: εὔπλεκτος is a Homeric dis legomenon (Il. 23.115, 23.335), which in later poetry can be used not only of wickerwork but also of hair (Agathias, Anth. Pal. 5.287.6 εὐπλέκτου βότρυν ἔρηξε κόμης, Nonnus, Dion. 13.200 χρύσεος εὐπλέκτοισι κόμαις ἐσφίγγετο τέττιξ); a related adjective, εὐπλεκής, actually occurs with σπυρίς (Julian of Egypt, Anth. Pal. 6.28.5 ζεῦγός τ’ εὐπλεκέων σπυρίδων). Ιn a text written without diacritics and word divisions the difference would only be of one letter (υ/ο), and the phonetic similarity of -ευ- and -εο- may also have played a role. An obvious obstacle to my proposal is that a similar expression, νεοπλεκέος καλάθοιο, occurs in Nicander's Alexipharmaca (95–7):Footnote ¹⁹

I suggest, however, that here we should likewise emend νεοπλεκέος to ἐυπλεκέος. Just like νεόπλεκτος, νεοπλεκής is an absolute hapax legomenon, whereas εὐπλεκής is another Homeric dis legomenon (Il. 2.449, 23.436). There seems to be no reason why specifically a newly made strainer should be used for the operation prescribed by Nicander; by contrast, it makes good sense to call a strainer ‘well woven’. Evidently νεοπλεκέος was introduced to avoid the hiatus after ῥύμμα,Footnote ²⁰ but in fact hiatus between -α and ἐυ- in this metrical position perfectly conforms to Homeric practice.Footnote ²¹ My second proposal is that we should adopt Otto Schneider's ἐς for εἰς at line 20.Footnote ²² In Nicander's complete poems ἐς/εἰς occurs seventeen times, of which nine times before a consonant: in all these cases editors print ἐς, though on one occasion manuscripts are split between ἐς and εἰς.Footnote ²³ There is no reason to make an exception for the fragment. Finally, κροκόωντες should probably be emended to κροκόεντες, which can be supported with Theoc. 1.31 καρπῷ ἕλιξ εἱλεῖται ἀγαλλομένα κροκόεντι and ‘Theoc.’ Anth. Pal. 9.338.3–4 (= HE 3470–1) ὁ τὸν κροκόεντα Πρίηπος | κισσὸν ἐφ’ ἱμερτῷ κρατὶ καθαπτόμενος. While Otto Schneider may be correct that κροκόωντες is not an impossible form as such,Footnote ²⁴ from a stylistic point of view two active participles belonging to the same noun in a row (κροκόωντες ἐπιζυγέοντε) are decidedly awkward.

Taken together, my suggestions presented above result in the following text:

Some of my textual suggestions are made with less confidence than others: the text printed above is offered as a convenient means to sum up the preceding argument rather than as a definitive edition. In particular, while I am certain that lines 22–4 should be taken to describe an ivy wreath, my reading of lines 20–1, both as a whole and in detail, is intended more or less exempli gratia, especially as it appears far from impossible, in view of the extremely corrupt state of the fragment in general,Footnote ²⁵ that the passage is affected by lacunae.

By way of conclusion, a few words are in order on how my reading of the section on the ivy fits within the wider context. As I mentioned at the beginning, Athenaeus introduces the fragment as a catalogue of flowers used for making wreaths (στεφανωτικὰ ἄνθη), but it is not immediately clear whether Nicander himself made this an explicit principle for inclusion in the list. However, allusions to wreaths feature prominently throughout the fragment.Footnote ²⁶ Early on, Nicander describes a variety of gilliflower (2 ἰάσι) as the flower offered to Ion by the Ioniad Nymphs as a ‘sacred wreath’ (4 στέφος ἁγνόν), and similarly at the end he refers to the garden cress (σαύρη) as ‘the wreath of Hades’ (72 στέφος Ἡγεσιλάου). One passage mentions marjoram, frankincense tree ‘and all other plants that gardens provide to toiling men for wreaths’ (53–4 ἠδ’ ὅσα κῆποι | ἀνδράσιν ἐργοπόνοις στεφάνους ἔπι πορσαίνουσιν).Footnote ²⁷ Then follows a list of ‘wild flowers gathered for garlands or posies’ (55–61).Footnote ²⁸ Thus we should hardly be surprised to find a reference to the ivy wreath, and in fact Nicander's use of στέφος for a twig of ivy (18) makes one expect as much. What distinguishes these other references to wreaths from our passage as I propose to read it is that none of them actually instructs the reader to make a wreath. However, we do find such a direct instruction in a related fragment in which Nicander advises his reader to sow a specific variety of legume, so that he could not only eat the beans but also make wreaths from the flowers (fr. 81.1–2 σπείρειας κυάμων Αἰγύπτιον, ὄφρα θερείης | ἀνθέων μὲν στεφάνους ἀνύσῃς …).Footnote ²⁹ It is true that this laconic advice comes nowhere close to the detailed instructions of lines 20–4; but then it seems only natural that Nicander should pay particular attention to the kind of wreath that is specially associated with poets.