The Peleus of Euripides’Andromachemakes claims puzzlingly incongruous with his decrepit physical state; he threatens physical violence against the much younger Menelaus and denies his advanced age outright in conversation with Andromache. Peleus’ motivations for acting in such a way, Menelaus’ cause for acting as if these claims are true, and the literary or dramatic significance of these affairs, all pose problems which this article addresses, while also offering a first step towards a comprehensive methodology for understanding old age (...) in Euripidean drama. It presents a unified view of old men across several plays, highlighting key patterns of their interaction with old age, and applies this broad perspective to a close analysis of Peleus’ portrayal in theAndromache.It argues that old men in the plays of Euripides can be viewed generally on either side of a dichotomy between giving effective counsel or participating effectively in physical conflict. Peleus subverts this dichotomy by denying the fact of his age throughout, an action which allows him to employ the skill in speaking gained by his old age as a dramatic substitute for direct physical confrontation and to occupy the social role of a younger man in the Greek household. (shrink)

Atalanta, devotee of Artemis and defiant of men and marriage, was a popular figure in ancient literature and art. Although scholars have thoroughly investigated the literary evidence concerning Atalanta, the material record has received less scrutiny. This article explores the written and visual evidence, primarily vase painting, of three Atalanta myths: the Calydonian boar hunt, her wrestling match with Peleus, and Atalanta's footrace, in the context of rites of passage in ancient Greece. The three myths can be read as (...) male and female rites of passage: the hunt, athletics, and a combination of prenuptial footrace and initiatory hunt. Atalanta plays both male and female initiatory roles in each myth: Atalanta is not only a girl facing marriage, but she is also a female hunter and female ephebe. She is the embodiment of ambiguity and liminality. Atalanta's status as outsider and as paradoxical female is sometimes expressed visually by her appearance as Amazon or maenad or a combination of the two. Her blending of gender roles in myth offers insight into Greek ideas of social roles, gender constructs, and male perceptions of femininity. Erotic aspects of the myths of the Calydonian boar hunt and the footrace, and possibly also her wrestling match with Peleus, emphasize Atalanta as the object of male desire. Atalanta challenges men in a man's world and therefore presents a threat, but she is erotically charged and subject to male influence and dominance. (shrink)

Philosophos Agonistes: Imagery and Moral Psychology in Plato's Republic RICHARD PATTERSON THE COMPETITIVE IMPULSE in its simplest, first and best expression -- be best and first in everything, as Peleus advised Achilles -- seems foreign to the spirit of philosophy for a number of reasons. The most important of these finds metaphorical expression in a "Pythagorean" gnome of uncertain provenance: "Life, said [Pythagoras], is like a festival; just as some come to the festival to compete, some to ply their (...) trade, but the best people come as spectators, so in life the slavish go hunting for fame or gain, the philosophers for the truth" . Plato's celebrated tripartite soul of the Republic provides a psychological underpinning for these observations about the festival crowd, and in particu- lar the distinction between the agonistes -- the competitor hunting victory and fame -- and the philosophical seeker after truth. Bk. IV distinguishes a reason- ing, a spirited, and an appetitive part or aspect of the soul, each having its own proper function and the three together providing a basis for Socrates' discus- sion of the virtues of wisdom, courage, sophrosyne, and justice. Bk. IX is explicit about all three parts having their own particular and natural pleasures and desires: the two lower parts, "spirit" and "appetite," appear respectively as lovers of victory and glory, on the one hand, and money, food, drink, and sex, on the other;.. (shrink)

In his choice of quotations concerning fate and the good ordering of events Stobaeus gives in succession three passages which the manuscripts ascribe to the Peleus of Euripides and the Phaedra of Sophocles, but as Wilamowitz and Nauck saw, all three form a single piece, and the ascriptions to Euripides and Sophocles do not concern them. The text so recovered may be presented as follows.

The saga of Ceyx, king of Trachis, begins at Met. 11.266 and continues to 11.748. Ceyx' adventures form the longest single episode in the Metamorphoses , slightly longer than the Phaethon legend . Three metamorphoses take place in the course of the Ceyx narrative. The first is that of Ceyx' brother Daedalion who is transformed into a hawk. The second transformation occurs in the course of the exiled Peleus' visit to Ceyx when a wolf attacks Peleus' cattle and (...) sheep and is eventually turned into stone. The third metamorphosis is that of Ceyx and his wife Alcyone into halcyons. The linking together of these three metamorphoses was entirely an Ovidian invention: it had never been done before. It is therefore important to see the Ceyx story as a whole, as it was put together by Ovid. Attention naturally concentrates on the most interesting episode in it – the Ceyx–Alcyone – but the Daedalion and Peleus episodes are integral parts of the narrative and not separate legends. The story is framed by the contrasting transformations of the two brothers. The fierce and bellicose Daedalion becomes a bird of prey . The gentle and uxorious Ceyx becomes a happily paired halcyon . It is ironic that we first meet Ceyx when he is mourning the transformation of his brother into a bird, since the same end awaits him. The brothers' characters are very different but their fates are similar. Ceyx' dealings with Peleus bring out the king of Trachis' hospitable, peace-loving, godly and husbandly qualities and give us a rounded and detailed picture of his personality to balance the developed character-study of his wife Alcyone which is to follow. The spotlight passes from Ceyx to Alcyone at Met. 11. 410. (shrink)

It neither is nor need be doubted that tutamen opis, preserved like many another true lection in the margin of G and R, is what Catullus wrote. The tutū opus which OGR present in their texts is a simple error arising from the abbreviation of tamen as S0009838800022916_inline1. But the verse still fails to satisfy and is universally esteemed corrupt. The description of Peleus as dear exceedingly to his yet unborn and unbegotten son is so absurd a form of (...) address that all editors now adopt from the interpolated MSS the conjecture ‘clarissime nato.’ This description is neither absurd nor untrue, but it is yet untimely, and sorts ill with the bridegroom's other titles. The ‘decus eximium,’ the ‘magnae uirtutes,’ the ‘tutela Emathiae,’ all are already his: the glory reflected from his heroic son belongs to the future and is part of that prophecy to which in the next two verses he is bidden to give ear. clarissime nupta would be appropriate, and would resemble 25 ‘eximie taedis felicibus aucte’ and Ouid. met. XI 217 sq. ‘coniuge Peleus | clarus erat diua’; but ‘most illustrious in thy son’ breaks away from the rest of this prelude and forestalls what is to come in 338 and the following verses. There is therefore an undercurrent of feeling that even now all is not well: ‘de coniectura ilia dubitari potest, cum propriae Pelei ipsius uirtutes hie praedicentur’ says Baehrens, and Schwabe even proposes so wretched an alternative as ‘carissime fato.’. (shrink)

This paper argues that: (a) the transmitted text of Pind. Nem. 3.35–6 ποντίαν Θέτιν κατέμαρψεν | ἐγκονητί (‘[Peleus] caught the sea-nymph Thetis quickly’) is not the original text of Pindar; (b) ἐγκονητί does not fit the context, is not an attested Greek word and should be eliminated from dictionaries of ancient Greek; (c) Byzantine etymological works, followed by many modern scholars, base their explanations on the late antique form ἀκονητί, which should be eliminated from classical, Hellenistic and imperial texts; (...) (d) the tradition of the Etymologicum Magnum knows the variant ἐγκονιτί (conjectured for Pindar by Bergk) ‘with dust’ (‘with effort’), which seems presupposed by the scholia on Pindar; (e) the form ἐγκονιτί (created on the pattern of ἀκονιτί) is to be preferred in Pindar for reasons of language and content and should be added to the dictionaries of ancient Greek. (shrink)

In my quest for Aurai in Greek art, I have been surprised by the haste of commentators to label each and every running woman as a Nereid. Surely it should depend on the evidence. I begin with two Attic pyxides in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge. The first GR 1. 1933 was given and published by Miss Lamb in CVA Cambridge ii pl. 26. In Beazley, ARV 297, this vase was said to be in the Manner of Douris. In ARV 451 (...) this vase has lost its own reference and acquired that of GR 10. 1934.‘Nereids’ is an inadequate description of either vase; for both include different sexes.The pyxis 1. 1933 is not in good condition. The central figure is surely not the male, as Miss Lamb says, but a running woman taking up twice as much room as anyone else. She holds one dolphin and has lost another, so she must be the heroine Thetis. On one side of her stands a man with a dark beard, but he holds an old man's crooked stick, so he must be Nereus in spite of his dark beard: and a frightened Nereid rushes by him to the left: on a third side a stationary woman has just frightened a woman with a sceptre off her chair; the sceptre holder must be Doris. Here then we have a Peleus and Thetis scene, but there is no room for Peleus. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Arms and the Man:Wordplay and the Catasterism of Chiron in Ovid Fasti 5Barbara Weiden BoydIn a recent essay, Ian Brookes has drawn attention to the way in which Ovid's description of the catasterism of Chiron in Fasti 5 "suppresses Chiron's hybrid nature" as centaur "in order to allow us to sympathize with him as a fellow human."1 Brookes also directs us to the ironic ambiguity used by Ovid to (...) portray the episode's three main characters, Chiron, Achilles, and Hercules, each of whose histories, as alluded to by Ovid, shares with or borrows from the mythical histories of the other two characters.2 Thus, the wordplay associating Chiron's name with the Latin manus (as if derived from ), an etymological link already discussed by Santini (1976, 49-56), is demonstrated by Brookes to point instead here to the character of Achilles, whose "man-slaying hands" () are known from Iliad 18.317 and 24.478-79; the arrow wound in the left foot here fatal to Chiron is suggestive of Achilles' vulnerable heel; and the poison here responsible for Chiron's death is the same poison that Deianira will one day use to kill Hercules.3I want in the following discussion to extend the line of argument begun by Brookes through a fuller consideration of Ovid's exploitation of shared motifs in the mythical histories of each of these characters, and to focus in particular on the important role of wordplay, of a sort not previously observed, in the episode. My reading, while demonstrating that Brookes has made a valuable start on the literary analysis of the passage as a whole, will reach a somewhat different conclusion and suggest that Ovid's narrative intentionally subverts the superficial solemnity of the story told.It will be useful to begin with a full quotation of the episode (Fast. 5.379-414): [End Page 67] Nocte minus quarta promet sua sidera Chiron380 semivir et flavi corpore mixtus equi. Pelion Haemoniae mons est obversus in Austros: summa virent pinu, cetera quercus habet. Phillyrides tenuit: saxo stant antra vetusto, quae iustum memorant incoluisse senem.385 ille manus olim missuras Hectora leto creditur in lyricis detinuisse modis. venerat Alcides exhausta parte laborum, iussaque restabant ultima paene viro. stare simul casu Troiae duo fata videres:390 hinc puer Aeacides, hinc Iove natus erat. excipit hospitio iuvenem Philyreius heros, et causam adventus hic rogat, ille docet. respicit interea clavam spoliumque leonis, 'vir' que ait 'his armis, armaque digna viro!'395 nec se, quin horrens auderent tangere saetis vellus, Achilleae continuere manus. dumque senex tractat squalentia tela venenis, excidit et laevo fixa sagitta pede est. ingemuit Chiron, traxitque e corpore ferrum:400 adgemit Alcides Haemoniusque puer. ipse tamen lectas Pagasaeis collibus herbas temperat et varia volnera mulcet ope; virus edax superabat opem, penitusque recepta ossibus et toto corpore pestis erat:405 sanguine Centauri Lernaeae sanguis echidnae mixtus ad auxilium tempora nulla dabat. stabat, ut ante patrem, lacrimis perfusus Achilles: sic flendus Peleus, si moreretur, erat. saepe manus aegras manibus fingebat amicis:410 morum, quos fecit, praemia doctor habet. oscula saepe dedit, dixit quoque saepe iacenti 'vive, precor, nec me, care, relinque, pater.' nona dies aderat, cum tu, iustissime Chiron, bis septem stellis corpora cinctus eras.I have discussed elsewhere4 Ovid's effective use of second-person address to the reader at Fasti 5.389 to draw attention to the novelty of his narrative: this is the only extended narrative in the extant literary tradition [End Page 68] in which Achilles and Hercules actually meet as a result of their mutual acquaintance with Chiron. This meeting is, as Brookes (1994, 496) has observed, "something of a coup": only the most elastic of relative mythological chronologies could permit this meeting to occur. I propose that in fact we take Ovid's videres, appearing immediately after Ovid has set the scene by describing the landscape (379-82) and by introducing each of his three protagonists in three successive couplets (383-88), as an invitation to scrutinize carefully the play with characterization thus made possible, a play signaled first and foremost in this episode through Ovid's use of the epithet semivir (380) to describe... (shrink)

"Sing, O Goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans." In these opening lines of the Iliad, Homer invokes the Muse. For Homer the act of creating poetry is a divine gift, one that derives from an otherworldly source and is not ultimately reducible to this world. This conception of human creativity as a divine gift pervaded the ancient world, and was also evident among the Hebrews. In Exodus, for instance, we read (...) that God filled the two artisans Bezaleel and Aholiab with wisdom so that they might complete the work of the tabernacle. (shrink)

Catullus' use of nutrices for the Nereids' breasts in line 18 of Poem 64 is not perhaps the most important problem in the poem, but it is not without interest and may have significance beyond its narrow context. This ‘weird preciosity’ has been integrated into a wider reading by Francis Cairns, who interestingly drew attention to Artemidorus 2.37–8 where to dream of Aphrodite emerging from the sea and naked as far as the ζώνη is a good omen for sea-travellers because (...) her breasts are τροΦιμώτατοι. So too, to dream of Nereids and Amphitrite is also a good omen. Cairns linked this passage to the persistent connections of Aphrodite and the Nereids with marriage, concluding that the Argonauts are presented with a very good omen as they set out and as the prospective bride and groom, Peleus and Thetis, meet. Cairns naturally finds support here for what we might call the ‘positive’ view of Catullus' heroic age, a view now apparently in the ascendant after the doubts created by John Bramble's well-known paper. Problems remain of course – Catullus 64 is not a dream – and the purpose of the present note is to keep debate alive by calling attention to a rather different set of considerations which complicate, rather than undermine, Cairns' reading. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Variation of the Pindaric Break-off in Nemean 4Poulcheria KyriakouThe Pindaric break-off is a provocative technique, to modern tastes at least. It literally breaks the dramatic illusion in a radical manner and projects an ambiguous picture of the poet. On the one hand the artist seems not entirely in control of his demanding material; on the other, he appears fully aware of both the precepts of aristocratic interaction, the (...) guest-friendship relationship of poet and client, and his divine poetic gift that allows him to detect the best way to immortalize the victor and execute the song in the most impeccable fashion. It is characteristic that in extant Greek literature the break-off motif reappears only in Hellenistic poets who valued and exploited all means of putting together an out-of-the-ordinary poem.1 The modern scholarly consensus on break-offs clashes with older views which go back to the scholia.2 When Pindar uses break-offs, they function in a meaningful and elegant way and are not to be taken at face value as expressions of genuine on the poet's part or recognition of a problem in the composition. It is equally unhelpful to consider them a mere empty motif, a sort of formula employed to no particular end. This is not to say that the [End Page 17] break-off might not have been traditional in Greek choral lyric.3 Since so little of this profuse genre has survived, this possibility cannot be excluded and the technique is certainly employed by Bacchylides (5.100-1 and 10.41-42; cf. Simonides fr. 10).4 But the traditional character would not automatically rob the break-off of claims to literary import.Despite this general agreement, break-offs do remain among the most problematic Pindaric passages. For one, they are not uniform: in the so-called hush passages (e.g. O. 1.28-35, 9.35-41, 13.91, N. 5.14-18) the poet refuses to tell or continue a particular tale that he judges unacceptable on moral/religious grounds. These passages will not concern me here.5 Instead, I will focus on another type of break-off where Pindar states his intention to abandon the specific, usually mythic, thread he has been pursuing because time is pressing on and he should take up either the praise, i.e. the explicit praise, of the victor and his lineage or another myth deemed more appropriate for the "moment."6 Among odes with this type of break-off N. 4 holds a prominent position because it includes not just one but two break-offs and has generated much discussion on account of the first one:[End Page 18].(N. 4.33-43)At first sight it is surprising that this particular ode would present interpretive difficulties at all because it is one of the most elegantly and clearly articulated in the Pindaric corpus.7 When considered in its entirety, the ode's most pleasant characteristic is the near perfect structural and thematical symmetry, from the overall distribution and arrangement of stanzas and themes to details like number of lines devoted to specific motifs and verbal echoes that connect passages with each other. From a total of twelve stanzas six are devoted to the victor Timasarchus and his family and six to the achievements of the glorious Aeginetan heroes of the past, the Aeacids. The praise of the victor and his family is placed at the beginning and end of the ode, with three stanzas (N. 4.1-24) preceding and three (N. 4.73-96) following the mythic section (N. 4.25-68).8 The beginning of the ode deals with the victorious athlete (N. 4.9-24) and the end with his maternal uncle, Callicles (N. 4.79-90), both coupled with their fathers, Timocritus and Euphanes, who were competent musicians. Pindar also extols his own song in the first and last stanza. The mythic section narrates in some detail the victories of Telamon (N. 4.25-32) and Peleus (N. 4.54-68) which are separated by a catalog of other Aeacids, the first two being sons of Telamon (N. 4.46-48... (shrink)

The Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius deals with a band of heroes one generation before the great warriors at Troy, and the narrative does not really concern itself directly with the later generation. Some of the familiar heroes of Homer may never seem very far from Apollonius' narrative, but they tend not to appear in the poem themselves. One who does is Achilles, twice in fact: once in the first book and once in the last. Both of these passages deal with (...) his early life: the first when he is in the care of Chiron and his wife , the second when he is in the family home with Peleus and Thetis . In the former the gods of heaven and nymphs of Pelion are described as watching the departure of the Argo from Thessaly bound for Colchis. Chiron then comes down from Pelion and waves the heroes goodbye. His wife meanwhile holds Achilles on her arm and shows the child to his father Peleus as he departs with the Argonauts. The later passage describes the failed attempt of Thetis to make her son immortal. In this account Thetis addresses Peleus for the first time since their separation , and then vanishes into the depths of ocean. Their separation occurred some time earlier when she disappeared in anger after her failure to make the young Achilles immortal. She tried to do this by placing him in the fire during the night, and anointing him with ambrosia during the day :The attempt fails when Peleus happens to see his son's immersion in the flames, and gives out a terrible cry, whereupon Thetis throws the boy down, goes away herself, and does not return. (shrink)

At a crucial moment in Euripides’ Andromache, the title character throws her hands around a statue of the goddess Thetis and laments the losses that have brought her to a point of desperation and despair. When Thetis appears at the end of the play, she answers Andromache’s pleas and grants her a renewed life of marriage and motherhood. Yet in her embrace of the statue, Andromache momentarily embodies an alternative impulse: a longing to merge with the stony form of the (...) goddess and to cease from the patterns of nuptial mobility and sexual reproduction that have defined her life thus far. In this article, I argue that we should understand this embrace as “queer”—as a moment of intimate contact between mortal woman and immortal goddess that deeply unsettles the models of sexual and reproductive order that dominate Greek art and literature. While the play ends by redirecting Andromache toward the propagation of the Trojan line, the queer potential of that crucial embrace is taken up by Thetis herself, who re-scripts her own marriage to Peleus in a way that both inverts gendered patterns of movement and rejects the valorization of female fertility. Euripides’ Andromache thus concludes with the restoration of mortal sexual and reproductive order, yet through Andromache’s encounter with Thetis, it also gestures to the queer and startling freedom of a barren future. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 122.1 (2001) 49-66 [Access article in PDF] The Propriety of the Past in Horace Odes 3.19 Barbara Pavlock ODES 3.19, A CELEBRATION FOR Murena's election as augur, is one of Horace's most vivid symposiastic poems, yet it has elicited surprisingly little critical discussion. 1 This ode is infused with wry humor and exuberance, from the poet's seemingly indignant rebuke to an unnamed man who delays (...) the proceedings with his interest in ancient Greek history to the call for the toasts and then to the conclusion with spirited revelry in a setting with fine wine and roses. A tension between the beginning and the end of the poem reveals an underlying dynamic revolving around the issue of time, past and present. Although his address to the unnamed individual at the beginning may simply indicate a need to get the festivities in motion, the poet devotes the first strophe to the man's discourse on subjects from the remote past: the kings of Athens, from first to last, the heroes of the line of Aeacus, and the Trojan War. The end of the poem, by contrast, reflects the essential thrust of Horace's symposia toward the importance of the present moment, with the pleasures of love a major element.The pressure of time, a familiar theme in the Odes, is often closely connected with propriety: Horace, for instance, urges Leuconoe to stop [End Page 49] wasting her time by trying to peer into the future through astrology but instead to "seize the day" (carpe diem, 1.11.8) since envious time has rushed on even as they speak. 2 Odes 3.19, I believe, reveals an interplay between the poet's insistence on the present moment in antithesis to the past and an underlying concern for propriety. This article will consider the scope of propriety: as a philosophical concept associated with moderation, it is relevant to the recipient of the poem; not only operating in the social sphere, it also applies to Horace's own poetics. After briefly looking at the poet's views on the impropriety of an absorption in the remote past for the occasion at hand, I will examine how he allows for a more appropriate inclusion of Homeric material in a subtle, oblique way within this ode. Finally, I will show that Horace's placement of the erotic lyric immediately following deftly responds to the problematic of Odes 3.19 through an imaginative fusion of past and present. 1 The first two strophes contrast the dry lecture on historical subjects with issues pertinent to the symposium at hand: Quantum distet ab Inacho Codrus pro patria non timidus mori, narras et genus Aeaci et pugnata sacro bella sub Ilio: quo Chium pretio cadum mercemur, quis aquam temperet ignibus quo praebente domum et quota Paelignis caream frigoribus, taces. (1-8) You recount how great a span of time separates Codrus, not afraid to die for his country, from Inachus and the family of Aeacus and the wars fought before sacred Troy. At what price we should buy a jar of Chian wine, who should heat the water, at whose house and at what time I may escape the Paelignian cold, you are silent. Horace calls attention to the lengthiness of the addressee's discourse on his recondite subject matter by the range of topics, including the chronology of the kings of Athens, the heroes in the line of Peleus [End Page 50] and Telamon, and the Trojan War, and by his use of the verb narras. 3 He furthermore hints at an element of tedium by his description of Codrus, the last Athenian king, with the prosaic phrase pro patria non timidus mori. 4 Horace here echoes his own description of a self-sacrificing patriot earlier in same book. There, however, he employed resonant, alliterative adjectives in the inspired phrase dulce et decorum est pro patria mori (3.2.13). In addition, Horace suggests that the core of the addressee's interests is Homeric material, since he alludes to Achilles and... (shrink)

The application of λκθος ànd its derivatives and the Latin terms ampullae and ampullari to the turgid or elevated style of poetry or oratory has provoked such a variety of explanations amongst modern and ancient commentators that it would be a tedious business to examine them all in detail. The ancient commentators on Horace, Ars Poetica, 11. 93–7 interdum tamen et vocem comoedia tollit, iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore; et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri Telephus et Peleus, cum pauper (...) et exsul uterque proicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba… were not even in agreement on the question of the precise correspondence of the two words, for while Porphyrion said that proicit ampullas was imitated directly from the ληκθειος Mοcomflex;σα of Callimachus, Pseudacron's note makes no reference to ληκθζειν at all, but merely connects the metaphor with the inflated appearance of the Roman ampulla. And though modern scholars do not question the fact that the two words do correspond in some degree, there has been a wide divergence of opinion on the derivation and meaning of the metaphor. Ritter and Wilkins, for example, held that the meaning ‘paint-pots’ was indicated by the conjunction of ληκθος with pingere in one of Cicero's letters to Atticus, and that in Horace, Epistles 1. 3. 12–14. (shrink)

This paper considers the Hellenistic poets' attitude towards pre-Trojan war myths; in particular, it examines the Hellenistic reception of six narratives from the Cypria: the marriage of Peleus and Thetis; the duel between the Dioscuri and Idas and Lynceus; the story of Telephus; the love affair between Achilles and Deidameia; the abandonment of Philoctetes on Lemnos; and the involvement of the Achaeans with the priest Anius and his daughters, the Oenotropae. Furthermore, it is argued that the reception of these (...) stories from the Cypria may be seen as a metaliterary comment upon epic poetry, firstly because narratives from the Epic Cycle are adapted to fit epic subgenres, such as the elegy, the epyllion, the hymn and the idyll, and secondly because the neoteric versions of these narratives put particular emphasis on certain motifs, types of hero and narrative techniques which are typical of Hellenistic poetics. (shrink)

Diggle has followed Stevens in rejecting 1279–82. Stevens' objections to these lines were that they ‘should [sc. directly] follow a striking demonstration that birth is more important than wealth in marrying and giving in marriage', and that the lines do not form an apt comment on the fates of Peleus and Neoptolemos. The cogency of these objections will be examined presently; but first a counter-objection will be presented against the hypothesis of interpolation.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 25.2 (2001) 373-376 [Access article in PDF] Book Review Why Literature Matters: Permanence and the Politics of Reputation Why Literature Matters: Permanence and the Politics of Reputation, by Glenn C. Arbery; 255 pp. Wilmington, Delaware: ISI Books, 2001, $24.95. Over the last decade or so, there has appeared an increasing number of books critical of the profession of literary studies. Such criticism has typically been directed (...) at literary theory and its preoccupation with the politics of race, class, and gender. To a limited extent, Glenn Arbery's Why Literature Matters: Permanence and the Politics of Reputation can be classified as belonging to such a "genre." Early in the book, for example, Arbery argues in favor of the "old-fashioned" idea, as he calls it, that literature is a "mode of knowledge" with the potential to open up transcendent modes of experience. Yet Why Literature Matters is so short on polemics and so long on incisive, sometimes brilliant readings of works ranging from the poetry and fiction of Seamus Heaney, Tom Wolfe, Toni Morrison, and Emily Dickinson to Shakespeare's Othello and Homer's Iliad, that such a characterization is insufficient at best and distorting at worst. Notwithstanding its title, this book is devoted less to advancing a polemic about "why literature matters" than to dramatizing, with performative power and grace, why most of us, politically oriented or not, are already quite sure that it does.Such performative power can be felt throughout Why Literature Matters, but [End Page 373] its presence is especially strong in the final, lengthy chapter on the Iliad, "The Sacrifice of Achilles." Bringing to bear his training as a classical scholar, Arbery contends that the Iliad is "about" a single event: the death or "sacrifice" of Achilles. Achilles, Arbery notes, was not just the greatest hero of the Iliad. He was also the greatest hero of the entire classical world: "Achilles has no rival in glory, either in the generation of heroes before him (not even Herakles), or in the ages after him. According to Plutarch, Julius Caesar wept because he had not accomplished as much as Alexander at the same age, but Alexander the Great envied Achilles."Why, then, does Arbery refer to Achilles' death as "sacrificial"? Drawing on a version of the Greek myth whose source is Pindar rather than the more commonly cited Hesiod, Arbery observes that Achilles' sacrificial death, which is not in fact narrated in the Iliad but is everywhere taken for granted, was necessitated by Zeus' successful plan to forestall a prophecy. That prophecy said that a son would be born to Zeus and the goddess Thetis, who would overthrow the Olympian god as Zeus had overthrown the Titans. Such a son, prophesized to be not the greatest of mortals but, much more, the greatest of gods, would have been--should have been, from Achilles's justly embittered standpoint--Achilles. But in fact Zeus foiled the prophecy by marrying Thetis off to a mere mortal, Peleus, thereby ensuring his own continued reign and Achilles' eventual death.It is the burden of Arbery's discussion to show not just that Achilles comes to accept and even "will" his own death, but that the meaning of such sacrificial death is embodied and given "presence" in the poetic form and language of the Iliad, including especially the descriptions of Patrocles and Hector, each of whom "inhabits the meaning of Achilles" by dying, successively, in Achilles' armor. Arbery goes so far as to compare Achilles' sacrifice with Christ's, asserting that reading the Iliad "in ignorance of the central importance of the marriage of Peleus and Thetis [is comparable] to reading [Dante's] Inferno (where references to holy things are scarce) in ignorance of the existence of Christ."Arbery makes clear, however, that it is the differences, rather than the similarities, that are most important in such a comparison. Those differences revolve around three issues. First, whereas Christ is a deity who sacrifices himself for humanity, Achilles is a mortal who sacrifices himself for the gods. Second, whereas humanity gains ultimate... (shrink)

This article is a critique of Friis Johansen's thesis that twelve Greek vases painted between 570 and 550 B.C. depict a first arming in Phthia. Details that Friis Johansen considered representative of domestic settings are shown to appear in other contexts too. Friis Johansen, who based much of his argument on a plate by Lydos depicting Achilleus, Thetis, Peleus, and Neoptolemos, problematically assumed that all the other early vases portraying Achilleus's arming must represent the same scene in Phthia. The (...) appearance of Neoptolemos on Lydos's plate, however, shows that it is a "heroized genre-picture" and depicts no particular moment in myth. It is also questionable for Friis Johansen to contend that the first presentation of armor is depicted if all the details of a picture do not correspond with Homer's description of the second arming. Friis Johansen's final argument, that two Euripidean choruses describing Achilleus's first armor offer no "reasonable grounds for free mythological invention," runs counter to recent Euripidean scholarship. The conclusion of this critique is that it is very unlikely that any of the early vases showing the presentation of armor to Achilleus depict a first arming in Phthia. Instead, an episode loosely connected with Achilleus's arming in Troy is pictured. The examination of these arming scenes and others in which the material of the Homeric poems and vase-paintings overlaps is helpful in reassessing the question of how closely related the epic stories shown on Archaic Greek vases are to those related in the Iliad and Odyssey. (shrink)

Critical discussion of Andromache has almost invariably focused on the question of unity. As everyone who has ever read a critical account of the play knows, the action falls into three parts: the plot against Andromache by Hermione and her father, foiled by Peleus; Hermione's subsequent panicky flight with Orestes; and Neoptolemos' murder at Orestes' instigation. The play appears not to possess ‘unity of action’ in the strict Aristotelian sense: there is, for instance, no tight causal connection between the (...) plot against Andromache and Orestes' plot against Neoptolemos. Troubled by this, critics have made a variety of attempts to find unity of another sort: unity of ‘theme’. Each has asked, ‘What is Andromache about?’, taking the question in an absolute sense; and has assumed that one must search for a single answer. (shrink)

This instalment of suggestions is put forward with all the diffidence one is bound to feel after an examination of the great body of the manuscripts. No great writer's text has hung upon a more slender thread of evidence. Larger matters than verbal emendation are touched upon in the discussion of poem LXVIII. My theory of how our texts became dislocated , and some new light I hope to throw upon the form and meaning of the Peleus and Thetis, (...) must be withheld until a later occasion. (shrink)

All interpretations of the Portland Vase frieze to date have failed to see, much less explain, a crucial figural attribute in the frieze, one that proves to be both explicit and explicatory, and whose location and appearance secures the identification of not one but, indeed, three figures. Furthermore, the attribute lies at the heart of a distinct schema of figural grouping and arrangement which has also gone unheeded in previous treatments of the Portland Vase frieze. By dint of this previously (...) unknown attribute, one can straightforwardly read the opening scene of the frieze using the attributes therein provided, but the opening scene only. To complete the task, a second methodology–that which I laid out in Arion in 1992–is a categorical sine qua non. One can, as I have already shown, successfully navigate the entire frieze using the second methodology alone but, as so many others have shown, not contrariwise. These new findings–the attribute and figural plan–are clear proof that the artistic vision of the Portland Vase was purposefully executed in a two-part program. (shrink)