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In the beginning, they say, Rhea, charmed with the art, ordered dances to be performed not only in ‘Phrygia by the CorybantesThe Corybantes, mentioned frequently by Lucian, are to him male supernatural beings (Timon, 41), alien denizens of Olympus like Pan, Attis, and Sabazius (Icarom., 27; cf. Parl. of the Gods, 9), whom Rhea attached to_herself because they too were crazy; in her orgies, one cuts his arm with a sword, another runs about madly, another blows the Phrygian horn, another sounds some instrument of percussion (Dial. Deor., 12, 1; cf. Tragodopod., 38). He does not ascribe to them any regular dance, or confuse them with the Curetes, as others often did. but in Crete by the Curetes, from whose skill she derived uncommon benefit, since they saved Zeus for her by dancing about him; Zeus, therefore, might well admit that he owes them a thank-offering, since it was through their dancing that he escaped his father’s teeth. They danced under arms, clashing their swords upon their shields as they did so and leaping in a frantic, warlike manner.This is Lucian’s only mention of the Curetes. His account of their dance agrees with representations in ancient art (cf..Kekulé-von Rohden, Archit. rém. Tonreliefe, Pl. 25) as well as with the description of Lucretius (I1, 629-639), who had seen it performed by mimic Curetes in the train of the Great Mother. Lucian’s use of the past tense (jv) suggests not only that his knowledge of them came from books but that he thought the dance obsolete. That, however, can hardly have been the case, for we have now a cletic hymn invoking (Zeus) Kouros, discovered at Palaecastro in Crete, which probably belongs to the cult with which the Curetes were connected, and is a late Imperial copy of an early Hellenistic text (Diehl, Anth. Lyr. Graeca, II, p. 279). Their dancing saved Zeus from being discovered and swallowed by his father Cronus because the clashing of their weapons drowned his infantine wailing. Thereafter, all the doughtiest of the Cretans practised it energetically and became excellent dancers, not only the common sort but the men of princely blood who claimed leadership. For example, Homer calls Meriones a dancer, not desiring to discredit but to distinguish him; and he was so conspicuous and universally known for his dancing that not only the Greeks but the very Trojans, though enemies, were aware of this about him. They saw, I suppose, his lightness and grace in battle, which he got from the dance. The verses go something like this: Meriones, in a trice that spear of mine would have stopped you, Good as you are at the dance. Iliad, XVI, 617-618. Nevertheless, it did not stop him, for as he was well versed in dancing, it was easy for him, I suppose, to avoid the javelins they launched at him.
