The basic methods of constructing the sets of mutually unbiased bases in the Hilbert space of an arbitrary finite dimension are reviewed and an emerging link between them is outlined. It is shown that these methods employ a wide range of important mathematical concepts like, e.g., Fourier transforms, Galois fields and rings, finite, and related projective geometries, and entanglement, to mention a few. Some applications of the theory to quantum information tasks are also mentioned.

Este estudo tem como principal objetivo uma análise do conceito de determinação em Espinosa. Historicamente, o pensamento de Espinosa foi assimilado a uma filosofia acosmista, isto é, uma filosofia que nega a realidade das coisas finitas em um mundo onde apenas Deus ou a substância seria real. Tal interpretação se consolida a partir das considerações hegelianas em suas Lições sobre a História da Filosofia e na Ciência da Lógica, em que Hegel lê todo o sistema de Espinosa a partir do (...) princípio "omnis determinatio est negatio". Nosso estudo se desenvolve então, primeiramente, apresentando as consequências contemporâneas desta leitura hegeliana; em seguida analisamos a interpretação hegeliana e algumas contribuições de Deleuze a respeito do conceito de determinação em Espinosa; e, por fim, analisamos no texto espinosano a função que o conceito de determinação desempenha e como ela se distancia do consagrado marco de leitura hegeliano de que “omnis determinatio est negatio”. (shrink)

Poderíamos caracterizar a obra de Gregor Moder, Hegel and Spinoza: Substance and Negativity, como uma obra não ortodoxa dos estudos tanto hegelianos quanto spinozistas, como uma tentativa quase heroica de recepcionar de forma nova e original a tão problemática relação existente entre hegelianismo e spinozismo e, também, como uma tentativa de “fazer justiça” a ambos os lados da discussão.

Traveling-wave solutions of the standard and compound form of Korteweg–de Vries–Burgers equations are found using factorizations of the corresponding reduced ordinary differential equations. The procedure leads to solutions of Bernoulli equations of non-linearity 3/2 and 2 (Riccati), respectively. Introducing the initial conditions through an imaginary phase in the traveling coordinate, we obtain all the solutions previously reported, some of them being corrected here, and showing, at the same time, the presence of interesting details of these solitary waves that have been (...) overlooked before this investigation. (shrink)

The European Legacy, Volume 17, Issue 4, Page 550-551, July 2012.

This book is a state-of-the-art review on the Physics of Emergence. Foreword v Gregory J. Chaitin Preface vii Ignazio Licata Emergence and Computation at the Edge of Classical and Quantum Systems 1 Ignazio Licata Gauge Generalized Principle for Complex Systems 27 Germano Resconi Undoing Quantum Measurement: Novel Twists to the Physical Account of Time 61 Avshalom C. Elitzur and Shahar Dolev Process Physics: Quantum Theories as Models of Complexity 77 Kirsty Kitto A Cross-disciplinary Framework for the Description of Contextually Mediated (...) Change 109 Liane Gabora and Diederik Aerts Quantum-like Probabilistic Models Outside Physics 135 Andrei Khrennikov Phase Transitions in Biological Matter 165 Eliano Pessa Microcosm to Macrocosm via the Notion of a Sheaf (Observers in Terms of t-topos) 229 Goro Kato The Dissipative Quantum Model of Brain and Laboratory Observations 233 Walter J. Freeman and Giuseppe Vitiello Supersymmetric Methods in the Traveling Variable: Inside Neurons and at the Brain Scale 253 H.C. Rosu, O. Cornejo-Perez, and J.E. Perez-Terrazas Turing Systems: A General Model for Complex Patterns in Nature 267 R.A. Barrio Primordial Evolution in the Finitary Process Soup 297 Olof Gornerup and James P. Crutchfield Emergence of Universe from a Quantum Network 313 Paola A. Zizzi Occam's Razor Revisited: Simplicity vs. Complexity in Biology 327 Joseph P. Zbilut Order in the Nothing: Autopoiesis and the Organizational Characterization of the Living 339 Leonardo Bich and Luisa Damiano Anticipation in Biological and Cognitive Systems: The Need for a Physical Theory of Biological Organization 371 Graziano Terenzi How Uncertain is Uncertainty? 389 Tibor Vamos Archetypes, Causal Description and Creativity in Natural World 405 Leonardo Chiatti . (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Freud and Leonardo in Egypt DANIEL ORRELLS Stories of selfhood were central to the nineteenth -century cultural and literary imagination.1 For numerous intellectuals of the nineteenth century, the Italian Renaissance had become a privileged site for thinking about the emergence of the category of the individualized self in the history of the West, in a grand narrative about the rupture from ecclesiastical authority to secular and scientific thinking. The (...) life-story of Leonardo Da Vinci, artist and scientist, was a crucial example for nineteenth-century historiography about the origins of modern individualist subjectivity.2 It is hardly surprising, then, that Freud turned to concentrate on Leonardo in his 1910 biography of the Renaissance man, to construct the psychoanalytic account of the history of the self. What is remarkable and fascinating, however, is that ancient Egypt should be so important in Freud’s biography: it reveals Freud’s investment in Egyptology for the development of the psychoanalytic narrative of selfhood. If the Italian Renaissance was figured as the rebirth of Graeco-Roman paganism in the history of European culture, as late nineteenth-century commentators such as Walter Pater—read and imbibed by Freud—had argued, then what did ancient Egypt have to do with Leonardo?3 This essay excavates Freud’s fascination with the place of Egypt in understanding the beginnings of the self in his 1910 biography of Leonardo, whose pre-Oedipal relationship with his mother was crucial for Freud’s portrait of the Renaissance man. The complicated place of ancient Egypt within arion 28.3 winter 2021 106 freud and leonardo in egypt the modern European cultural imagination—both the object of linguistic and racial anthropologies and the archive of the truth of the biblical narrative—profoundly informed Freud’s psychobiography of Leonardo. On the one hand, the possibility that Egypt was at the origins of the story of what it means to be human—before Oedipus, before Greece—that Egyptian archaeology might contain timeless, esoteric truths was crucial to Freud’s understanding of the subject at the dawn of desire. And yet, on the other, the early-twentieth-century investment in the scientificity of the new discipline of Egyptology provided Freud with a support mechanism for his own “scientific,” psychoanalytic investigations into Leonardo’s life-story. Indeed, Leonardo was such a fascinating figure for Freud—a figure for identification—precisely because, as the quintessential Renaissance man, Leonardo was both artist and scientist. Freud’s interest in the classical and sacred art of Leonardo as well as Leonardo’s scientific investigations reflected Freud’s own complex intellectual identity, informed by his classical humanistic education and his medical training. As Richard Armstrong has put it so well, the Leonardo essay can be “read as a key for understanding Freud’s personalized genealogy of empirical science.”4 The complexity of the position of Egyptology at the turn of the century, then, will be crucial to any understanding of Freud’s own precarious epistemological authority as it was explored in relation to Leonardo.5 We will begin by examining the importance of Egyptian archaeology for Freud’s understanding of Leonardo’s early relationship with his mother, which in turn provided Freud with a method for interpreting Leonardo’s paintings. Freud will invoke the heroics of modern Egyptologists, such as Jean-François Champollion, who in the 1820s had successfully deciphered hieroglyphic writing, in order to characterize the psychoanalyst as the decipherer of the hidden meaning of Leonardo’s art. And yet, as we shall see, the overdetermined position of Egypt in the European public imagination Daniel Orrells 107 since the Enlightenment would also encourage Freud to turn back to the Egyptology before Champollion’s decipherment. Freud’s Egyptological excavations would also allow him to intervene in early twentieth-century debates in the “racial” sciences which were developing increasingly hardening views about the “Aryan” and the “Semitic” “races.” If Leonardo’s biography was such an important narrative for the story of the origins of the western self, then it was not only Leonardo ’s mix of artist and scientist which was important for Freud. By linking Leonardo back to Egyptian origins, Freud was able to make a point about the “Aryan” / “Semitic... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content: Unmasking the Maxim: An Ancient Genre And Why It Matters Now W. ROBERT CONNOR We live surrounded by maxims, often without even noticing them. They are easily dismissed as platitudes, banalities or harmless clichés, but even in an age of big data and number crunching we put them to work almost every day. A Silicon Valley whiz kid says, Move Fast and Break Things. Investors try to Buy (...) Low and Sell High. Investigative reporters Follow the Money. Others Follow their Bliss. The lavish host thinks, The More the Merrier, while the Modernist architect is sure that Less is More. Captains of Industry whisper to themselves, Me First; captains of sinking ships shout, Women and Children First. Be Prepared was the Boy Scouts’ marching song, while the Proud Boys Stand Down and Stand By, awaiting their marching orders. Maxims are perhaps the smallest members in a large family of speech acts, which among the Greeks included proverbs, oracles, riddles, blessings, curses and lamentations. Not all of these continue in use, but maxims have found companions—mottos, mantras, advertising tag lines and jingles, slogans, political rallying cries, hashtags, three- or four-letter acronyms and 280 character tweets from the goddess Twitter. Familiarity, however, can breed contempt, or at least inattentiveness to the full range of their influence. Sometimes what sounds at first like empty verbiage turns into action. Bruce Lee adapted an old Taoist saying when he said, Be Water, and thereby provided what was for a while a surprisingly effective strategy for protesters in Hong Kong. arion 28.3 winter 2021 6 unmasking the maxim Maxims empower, for good or ill. In the hands of bigots or ideologues, they can turn deadly. Sic Semper Tyrannis shouted John Wilkes Booth after shooting Abraham Lincoln. A manufacturer of assault rifles urged potential customers to Earn Your Man Card. How better to earn it than to obey 8chan, a web site favored by white nationalists, with its own maxim, Embrace Infamy. A devotee of the site did just that, perpetrating a mass shooting in El Paso, Texas. Maxims, then, should not be lightly dismissed. Since the ancient Greeks so relished maxims, they should surely be interrogated to help us better understand the power of these often underestimated speech acts. Before turning to the Greeks, however, the English word maxim needs a closer look. english “maxim” english borrowed maxim from a Latin phrase and boiled it down for everyday use. In Latin writings about logic, the expression maxima propositio, biggest proposition, denoted a statement that did not need to be proved, but could provide the basis for proof of other, lesser propositions. This phraseology goes back at least to Boethius in the sixth century of our era. It’s the equivalent of the generalizations that serve as the major premises in syllogistic logic. If this makes maxims sound like the axioms of geometry, that is historically right. The starting points of plane geometry are propositions that deserve to be accepted; even without proof that they are worthy of belief. That’s the meaning of the term axiōma. No one needs to prove that things equal to the same thing are equal to each other. Think about it; after a while it seems self-evident. It is worthy of assent. We might equally well call such an axiom a maxim; indeed, the earliest (1426) attested use of maxim in English is described in the Oxford English Dictionary as “an axiom; a self-evident proposition assumed as a premise in mathematical, or dialectical reasoning.” W. Robert Connor 7 This usage is now obsolete, but Thomas Jefferson understood the idea behind it, since he believed that there were such truths, waiting to be put to work in building a society where all people were equal and possess certain inalienable rights. He did not feel he had to prove these propositions; they were in his view self-evident. In using these ideas in his draft of the Declaration of Independence, he was, in effect, transferring to politics what Euclid had done in geometry. It was a swift, strategic stroke on his part, for, since self-evident truths require no argument or explanation, they focus discussion not on... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:When Hyperbole Enters Politics: What Can Be Learned From Antiquity and Our Hyperbolist-In-Chief W. ROBERT CONNOR introduction: an age of hyperbole Everywhere we turn these days we encounter hyperbole—in the colloquialisms of every day speech, advertising, salesmanship, letters of recommendation, sports-casting, and not least in political discourse. This may be a good moment, then, to open a conversation between ancient and modern understandings of verbal “over-shoot,” as the Greek (...) term for exaggeration might be rendered in English. The evidence gathered in H. Lausberg’s Handbook of Literary Rhetoric1 shows that while ancient rhetoricians agreed that hyperbole should be counted among the “figures of speech,” they found much to argue about: was hyperbole a violation of the Aristotelian middle course, hence an extreme to be avoided, or was it a legitimate form of augmentation (auxēsis in Greek, amplificatio in Latin)? Could diminution (meiōsis ) also be regarded as a form of hyperbole? In the interpretation of texts hyperbole poses a further difficulty —unlike simile, alliteration or some other figures of speech, it is “unmarked,” that is, it has no linguistic sign to alert the reader to its presence. Hyperbole likes to disguise itself as if it were going to a masquerade ball, presenting itself as simile or wearing metaphorical dress, or appearing not infrequently as litotes. It can sneak up on you and take you by surprise. The critic Longinus in On the Sublime, ch. 38, and some rhetoricians noted that hyperbole could be most arion 26.3 winter 2019 powerful when least recognized. Many ancient rhetoricians and some modern critics, however, have followed Quintilian, who asserted that “expressions (often hyperbolic), such as “storms of public assemblies, thunderbolts of eloquence, are used merely for ornament” (Institutes 8.6.7). In this view hyperbole is a conspicuous ornament used to embellish speech and make it more elegant and attractive, but today it is more often treated either as an excuse for an outrageous statement (as when the CEO of Cambridge Analytica characterized as “a certain amount of hyperbole” his suggestion of using prostitutes to discredit a political opponent), or as a euphemism for a falsehood (as when a politician promises he will eliminate the national debt—$20 trillion—and his budget director shrugs the claim off as “hyperbole.”) The term seems to extinguish any feeling of embarrassment. None of these understandings of hyperbole is simply wrong, but together they eclipse an alternative view, grounded in one ancient understanding of language, and corroborated by modern experience. In this approach language in general and hyperbole in particular are not simply a set of signs whose meaning is arbitrarily determined by social convention. Instead, they have their own nature (physis, as Isocrates says in Panegyricus 8) and hence their own power to arouse and motivate listeners. Hyperbole, viewed in this light, is a force in its own right, with the ability to give voice to otherwise unarticulated emotions, to intensify them, to push aside doubts and hesitations, and then to turn feelings into action. Language is power, and hyperbole, as an extreme form of language, provides great power to those who use it skillfully. These need not be the docile students of the rhetoricians ; politicians sometimes seem to have an innate understanding of it. The extreme breed among them, the demagogues, are often the ones who know best how to put this extreme of language to use. True, you don’t have to be a politician to put hyperbole to work. It is a favorite mode of speech among lovers, poets, travellers. Holy Men use it, too: Jesus of Nazareth, for exam16 when hyperbole enters politics ple, proclaimed that it was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God (Matthew 19.24). Almost everyone uses it at some point, except policy wonks whose soulless prose withers before its onslaughts. When people use hyperbole they may be neither lying nor embroidering the truth to make it more ornamental. They exalt and intensify what they see as truth, make it come alive, and thereby rouse their listeners from apathy and distraction. Ordinary people, too, use... (shrink)

Pensar é uma espécie de exercício responsável que não pode ser omitido neste momento que vivenciamos e partilhamos. Por isso, cultivar boas reflexões depende, por um lado, da capacidade técnico-acadêmica de pesquisadoras e pesquisadores e, por outro, da maneira como conduzem o seu horizonte filosófico diante de um quadro de perspectivas e desafios. Assim, a produção filosófica não precisa de milagres para compreender a natureza, como afirmará Espinosa, mas de uma aliança entre liberdade e razão.É neste sentido que o presente (...) número da Aurora contempla o dossiê “Atualidade da Filosofia de Espinosa: Matéria e potência”, organizado pelos professores Ricardo Espinosa Lolas e Eladio Craia.O Fluxo Contínuo, por sua vez, dispõe dos artigos “Fantasised alterity, inaudible voices. Notes for a critique of the coloniality of desire”, de Jorge Polo Blanco; “El Estado Intensivo de Gilles Deleuze”, de Julián Ferreyra; “Nietzsche e a mnemotécnica: do sofrimento à afirmação da vida pelo artista da dor”, de Adilson Felicio Feiler; “The role of sense of justice in Rawls’theory”, de Pablo Aguayo Westwood; “Paradigms in Action”, de Paulo Pirozelli e, por último, “É possível filosofar com Heidegger após as confissões nos Cadernos Negros?”, de Luiz Rohden.A Aurora também apresenta, ao final, as resenhas das obras “Aporías de la Democracia”, obra coordenada por Ricardo Espinoza Lolas e Jordi Riba, assinada por Angélica Montes Montoya, e “Hegel and Espinosa: Substance and Negativity”, de Gregor Moder, realizada por Eladio Craia e Arion Keller. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reflections on Raphael PAUL BAROLSKY The essence of all appreciation and analysis of art is the translation of visual perceptions into compelling verbal form. —Ralph Lieberman cultural unity Horace Walpole, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Johann Wolfgang Goethe, Eugène Delacroix, Honoré Balzac, Friedrich Hegel, Charles Baudelaire, Friedrich Nietzsche, Pierre Renoir, Nathaniel Hawthorne, August Wilhelm von Schlegel, Heinrich von Kleist, Franz Grillparzer, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Ivan Turgenev, Wilhelm Heinrich Wackenroder, George Eliot, Jean-Auguste (...) Dominique Ingres, Roger Fry, Bernard Berenson, Theodor Hetzer, Roberto Longhi, Heinrich Wölfflin, and Stendhal are among the many essayists, critics, novelists, poets, painters and art historians who have responded to Raphael’s work as painter, architect or archeologist over the centuries. I can well imagine all of those listed above, among many others, united in an imaginary painting similar to the School of Athens—in other words, a vision that reconciles their various views of the world in a harmony analogous to the unity of philosophers in Raphael’s great fresco. Raphael is a towering figure in the history of European culture. The year 2020 was the 500th anniversary of the death of the great painter in Rome at the age of thirty-seven. In the wake of recent exhibitions that commemorated the artist’s achievement, I propose to touch briefly and lightly on a few aspects arion 28.2 fall 2020 100 reflections on raphael of Raphael’s life and works. Please think of these remarks as a series of suggestions, not attempts at definitive interpretation. I think of this essay as a rather experimental piece. THE SCHOOL OF ATHENS i should like to begin with a few brief remarks on what must be Raphael’s most famous work of art. I mean his School of Athens (fig. 1), which is, like Leonardo’s Mona Lisa and Last Supper or like Michelangelo’s David and Creation of Adam, an image widely known and admired. What more is there to say about The School Of Athens, one of the central images in the Stanza della Segnatura? You might spend the rest of your life reading about this great work and never understand it fully. Nevertheless, I want to focus for a moment on a central detail of the work and, on the basis of my description, point to a significant aspect of the fresco that has been universally overlooked. First the description, then the aperçu. Fig. 1. School of Athens. Ca. 1510–1512. Photo Credit : Erich Lessing / Art Resource, NY. Paul Barolsky 101 At the center of the School of Athens we behold the two great philosophers of classical antiquity: Plato and Aristotle. Plato holds a copy of his Timaeus, a dialogue that concerns the harmony of the heavens; Aristotle holds a copy of his Ethics, a work that pertains to human relations in this world. It was the goal of Renaissance thinkers to create a harmony or concord of the thought of these philosophers: a Concordia Platonis et Aristotelis. Raphael’s fresco, as is well known, presents the visual ideal of such harmony. Whereas Aristotle gestures downward, alluding to this world, in which his Ethics matter, Plato points heavenward, evoking the order of the cosmic realm described in Timaeus. Raphael makes visible the ideal of concordia when he movingly pictures the way in which the two philosophers gaze into each other’s eyes, as if to suggest this harmony. Borrowing from the language of Raphael ’s friend, Baldassare Castiglione, Raphael renders “the joining” of their souls. The monumental architecture of the scene, which echoes Bramante and has taproots in Piero della Francesca and Perugino, consists of three barrel-vaults beyond which we see patches of blue sky and puffs of cloud (fig. 2). The grandiose architecture of the image magnifies Raphael’s philosophers. Within this architectural framework, Plato’s gesture is deeply meaningful, since it prompts the viewer to look up and thus ascend toward the perfection of the celestial realm, beyond the imperfections of the physical world. Above the first barrel vault in the fresco we behold a section of the drum of a dome which is open to the sky. Within this section of drum there are two columns that are lined up directly... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Very Late, In Spring SAPPHO (Translated by Allen Tice) Already the moon has gone down, The Pleiades also flown low, And midnight. The hours move on, Yet I go to bed with no one... arion 28.2 fall 2020...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Two Poems MICHAEL TROCCHIA SEE FOR YOURSELF The gods, in effect, have given Euenius the gift of inner vision…because he has lost his outer vision. —Michael Attyah Flower, The Seer in Ancient Greece Come to a field of stones baking in the late sun. Drop your knee to the groundup earth and feel the warmth climb your thigh. Run your finger across a palm-sized stone, as if inspecting the (...) liver of the shegoat, the white one who follows you everywhere, always. Follow that old vision of yourself, its light dying in your eye as you look and look for one last rock one last time, its edge weathered into a fine and deadly thing. Hold the stone high—a red sun sinking behind you— and count down to the day’s complete darkness and in that completion between you and what will be arion 28.1 spring/summer 2020 64 two poems a darker endlessness, carve out the gift of sight, hearing only shivers of your own body, hooves running off. YOUNG CALCHAS SLEEPS And down he sat again as Calchas rose among them, Thestor’s son, the clearest by far of all the seers. —Homer, The Iliad Calchas, you dream of children dreaming of the sparrow’s head, of the bird’s eye deadened into view, of flutter and firelight, of the nest shredded at your feet and then spring again, berry, and leaf-meal and petalwind and whole glossaries of bone and egg bloodied in the hollow of your hand. But never a sure sign, no second sight clear and bright within the first order of things. No opening widening out of wing or song. Just the nearness of living, a feather suspended by a string, the halfmeaning of seeing the whole world suffer and sway— youth divined and past and forecast into the fray and saying this ruin and sacrifice again, this blueness sailing back in with the breeze. The world circles outside our window and light gives way to more light and you sleep soundly in a bed of down. Rise, Calchas, rise and walk out of the god’s mouth and see image after image fall away. See this life lifting out of one dream and into no other. Michael Trocchia 65... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content: Classics and Complexity in Walden’s “Spring” M. D. USHER In 1843, two years before Henry Thoreau built his cabin at Walden Pond, the Fitchburg Railroad laid down tracks through the woods near the Pond for its line connecting Boston to Fitchburg. The original Fitchburg Line, at 54 miles long, was, until 2010, the longest run in the present -day MBTA Commuter Rail system. And it is one of (...) the oldest railways in New England. By 1900, fortunes swelled and the Fitchburg’s Hoosac Tunnel Line took passengers and goods westward toward Chicago. The Lake Champlain Route connected Boston to points north like Burlington, Vermont. (See Figure 1.) arion 27.1 spring/summer 2019 Figure 1 (left): Advertisement for the Hoosac Tunnel Route in The New England Magazine (Vol. 21, Issue 6, February, 1900). Figure 2 (right): Herbert Wendell Gleason. The Fitchburg Railroad and Walden Pond in winter, Concord, Mass., March 24, 1920. Courtesy Concord Free Public Library. The Railroad was literally a fixture in Thoreau’s landscape. Its tracks pass remarkably close to Walden Pond (Figure 2), and the Fitchburg Line—both its reality and the specter of it—is practically a character in his writing: “I usually go to the village along its causeway, and am, as it were, related to society by this link,” Thoreau writes in “Sounds,” a chapter of Walden that contains what must be one of the most picturesque odes (or laments) to rail travel and commerce in all of American literature: The engine’s whistle, Thoreau complains, pierces the still silence of his idyllic retreat like a screaming hawk circling a farmer’s field, its billows of steam an ominous harbinger of “this travelling demi-god, this cloud-compeller.”1 Thoreau’s frequent, customary walks into Concord along the railroad tracks took him through a heavily excavated stretch of the line known as the Deep Cut, to which he returned again and again each year in early spring, even after leaving the cabin, to observe and to record his observations. The leaf-shaped sand flows and trickling surface erosion caused by melting frost in the banks of the Deep Cut are elaborately described in Thoreau’s chapter in Walden entitled “Spring,” what Laurence Buell calls the “high point of Thoreau’s epic.”2 And yet, in spite of the universal acclaim of this passage as a literary tour de force, it has not received the full attention it deserves. What warrants fresh consideration first and foremost is “Spring”’s deep-rootedness in classical sources. Many classical influences, allusions, and a good deal of etymological word play have gone so far unnoticed. The chapter is also important because it describes, by intimation, what contemporary scientists now call emergence. Emergent phenomena are properties or behaviors that arise in systems as a result of complex, dynamic interactions amongst constituent parts, including changes to a system brought about by human interventions3—not only, e.g., climate change and wildfires, but also traffic patterns and terrorist networks; kidney function in the body; the rings of Saturn. As he tries to capture the essence of the 114 classics and complexity in WALDEN’s “spring” Deep Cut and interpret its significance, Thoreau adumbrates this concept, but also grapples ingeniously with broader issues of perennial concern—the relationship of Nature to Culture, for example, of Wilderness to Civilization, of Science to the Humanities—making “Spring” not only a probing work of eco-criticism and environmental philosophy, but of scientific reflection and poetic experiment as well. In short, Thoreau’s “Spring” is that rare work of classical reception that transmits both literary and scientific insight. Perhaps at this point, in lieu of accolades, it is best to let Thoreau start speaking for himself. What I offer in the following pages is a commentary on the Deep Cut passage from “Spring.” Classical references and aspects of systems theory will be explained and contextualized as they emerge, as it were, from Thoreau’s text. The whole chapter corresponds to pages 289–308 in Cramer’s edition of Walden—26 paragraphs all told, of which only the relevant ones are printed and annotated here. (Transitions and extraneous material are briefly summarized, as needed, in paraphrase... (shrink)

During its century-long unfolding, spreading in numerous directions, Husserlian phenomenology while loosening inner articulations, has nevertheless maintained a somewhat consistent profile. As we see in this collection, the numerous conceptions and theories advanced in the various phases of reinterpretations have remained identifiable with phenomenology. What conveys this consistency in virtue of which innumerable types of inquiry-scientific, social, artistic, literary – may consider themselves phenomenological? Is it not the quintessence of the phenomenological quest, namely our seeking to reach the very foundations (...) of reality at all its constitutive levels by pursuing its logos? Inquiring into the logos of the phenomenological quest we discover, indeed, all the main constitutive spheres of reality and of the human subject involved in it, and concurrently, the logos itself comes to light in the radiation of its force (Tymieniecka). Papers by: Kristana Arp, Gary Backhaus, Mafalda Blanc, Piotr Blaszczyk, Manuel Bremer, Jonathan Lahey Dronsfield, Peter Abumhenre Egbe, Jesus Adrian Escudero, Wayne Froman, Jorge Garcia-Gomez, David Grunberg, Dasuke Kamei, Arion Kelkel, Filip Kolen, Tze-wan Kwan, Leonard Lawlor, Grahame Lock, Nancy Mardas, Nikolay Milkov, Cezary J. Olbromski, Helena De Preester, Anna-Teresa Tymieniecka, Gertrudis Van de Vijver, Luca Vanzago, Anatoly Zotov. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Three Poems JANE BLANCHARD Persephone This business of dividing time is not The easiest. Six months below with him; Six months above with her—such means a lot Of moving out and settling in. For them, I must abandon home and habits twice A year and never have a moment to Myself. It seems the greater sacrifice Is mine than theirs. I come and go when due As set forth (...) in a compromise once made Or rather ordered. Being loved so much Is less a blessing than a curse. Afraid I may get used to staying out of touch, My husband and my mother have proved loath To understand I always care for both. arion 26.3 winter 2019 Midas Whatever touched would turn to gold! Allowed one wish, he made his choice, Then reached to grasp all he could hold: Whatever touched would turn to gold! The impact could not be controlled. The wish he wished he could unvoice? Whatever touched would turn to gold! Allowed one wish, he made his choice. 70 three poems Sisyphus I roll the bolder up the hill. The bolder rolls back down again. There is to be no standing still. My efforts take no thought or skill; The next is what the last has been: I roll the bolder up the hill. Repeatedly, I find no thrill In this relentless discipline. There is to be no standing still. Time after time, the selfsame drill Gets old and even older when I roll the bolder up the hill. The chance of any change is nil. Since I am doomed, to my chagrin, There is to be no standing still. According to some greater will, The bolder rolls its rolls, and then I roll the bolder up the hill. There is to be no standing still. Jane Blanchard 71... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Epigram into Lyric: Francis Bacon Translates from the Greek Anthology GORDON BRADEN If sir francis bacon did not exactly invent modern science and technology, he did predict it, with remarkable accuracy. The unfinished project of which the writings of his later years were to be component parts is a reformation of the life of the human mind from the ground up—“a complete Instauration of the arts and sciences and (...) all the learning of mankind, raised upon proper foundations ”1—and the most (arguably the only) successful such plan ever drafted. It foresaw both the previously unimaginable worldly triumph of the human race over nature in the centuries that followed and the intellectual means by which that triumph was to be achieved. He also wrote poetry. It is no surprise that someone of his time and place and station should have done so, and its existence is not in itself remarkable. Not much of it has survived, and we have no particular reason to think there was more; and, despite the extensive scholarly and critical scrutiny that Bacon’s work has received, very little attention has been given to this part of it. Still, one poem has achieved something of an afterlife and is worth attention, especially alongside the triumphalism of Bacon’s Magna Instauratio. It concerns hopelessness. Serious attention has been given to Bacon’s remarks on literature and the imagination, including his proposal, amid all his other plans, for what he calls “literary history” (historia literarum).2 But his poems are a different matter. They can be found in the great 19th-century edition of Bacon’s collected works, tucked in between his Prayers and his Christian Paradoxes.3 Most of the poems are from a small volume of psalm translations published under his own name the year before arion 27.1 spring/summer 2019 his death; these are now available in one of the published volumes of the new Oxford edition of Bacon’s works.4 There is also 12-line poem in hexameter couplets that begins sounding like a translation of Horace’s Integer vitae but goes on to be a fairly straightforward completion of its opening thesis and never gets around to sweetly laughing, sweetly speaking Lalage; a manuscript in the British Library attributes it to Bacon, though it is also printed in two of Thomas Campion’s books of airs as if it were one of his.5 My own interest is in the one remaining poem, a 32-line translation of a 10-line poem from the Greek Anthology (9.359 in the Palatine Anthology, though known in Bacon’s time from the Planudean). It first appears in print in 1626, anonymously, as “Certaine verses concerning the present estate of Man,” appended with other “characters, and many other witty conceits ” to an edition of Thomas Overbury’s poem “A Wife.”6 Three years later the classical scholar Thomas Farnaby prints it with an ascription to Bacon in a selection of poems from the Greek Anthology, along with the original text of the Greek poem, a Latin translation of it, and the editor’s facing translation of Bacon’s poem back into Greek.7 Bacon’s poem can also be found, both complete and in fragmentary form, in quite a few manuscripts, which are being collated for the first time for The Oxford Francis Bacon, though the editors have not yet decided where to put it. Isolated citations and quotations of the poem occur over the next several centuries; Francis Turner Palgrave includes it in his much-reprinted Golden Treasury, with the title “Life.”8 But there has been little discussion of the poem. It is the subject of an excellent scholarly article by Herbert Grierson, but that was over a hundred years ago.9 Paul Fussell has some sharp observations on Bacon’s use of his stanza form, but they fit onto a single page.10 Other comment is mostly incidental. I want to gather and slightly enhance what has been learned or said about the poem, and explore why it has snagged my interest. The Greek original is variously attributed; the most commonly mentioned name is Posidippus, probably the Mace50 epigram into... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:After the War DAVID GOMES CÁSSERES invocation: athena for PLP Grey-eyed Athena had no childhood. She stepped out of the old god’s terrible skull a grown young goddess and began her apprenticeship: running sex-driven cults among the hunters and gatherers, collecting snakes and owls, her aegis looming behind the altars, over her priestesses, prophetic crones and breathless temple prostitutes, sacrificed animals bleeding and burnt ears of grain She gained (...) a reputation: she liked clever men, not that way, no, but she did them favors, paid attention to their deeds and needs and risks and wounds and wants. Her admiration was something a clever man could count on; she would give protection, opportunities, good luck. There was a catch, of course: you had to be clever again, you had to keep impressing the grey-eyed one, and so men lasted a while but couldn’t keep it up, and fell, and well, she forgot them. She was busy. But Odysseus: He was another kind. One stratagem after another, he built up so much credit that she saved him even when he disgraced himself one time or another. (Olympus might have disapproved if they’d noticed, but she had walked far away from that rabble of archetypes, totems, fertilities, boogeymen and witch-mothers, nightwalkers, netherdwellers, sexpots and satyrs. She owned her firmament.) Odysseus was something new to her in his little flick of mortality. So when she stood alone in Penelope’s bedchamber watching the reunion, the circling dance of man and woman arion 27.2 fall 2019 step by step negotiating what they knew after so many years their carefulness like oil on water, leveling out the fresh reek of murder from the great hall below them the suitors’ teeth driven into the earthen floor Odysseus striped with their blood Penelope before her loom, many-stringed weapon of her own warfare weaving each other in that long rite of recognition: Her grey eyes saw words forming and fading unsaid As they circled in the salt red sunset Ionian air. And saw the end of her story with Odysseus; goddess and all, it took away her breath. In the end she had this much to show for her years with this clever man: He came home from the war alive, with all his teeth. 2 after the war First published as “Athena,” in Arion 21.3, Winter 2014 telemachus 1. It’s like this. I come to manhood at fourteen and my life’s just misery and shame. There’s no King in Ithaka and my mother, the Queen, is like a prisoner. All our warriors are scattered in the sea somewhere by Athena’s great storm. Our home, the palace of godlike Odysseus, is full of parasites and pirates, We live there paralyzed, taunted by those swarming men and the people who cling to them, even some of my mother’s maids, girls my age or a little older— nasty girls who know all the ways to mock and mortify a boy squirming into manhood without a father. Of course I run away, of course I go looking for wily Odysseus, the King, my father. I never find him, it’s for him to find me, later. But I did learn to tie seamen’s knots, and I have a traveler’s tale: One night I was at the house of Menelaus and Helen, drinking good wine late into the night. They sent the servants to bed, and the three of us sat in the red light of the dying fire. Menelaus, still handsome with some grey in his red hair, spoke of my father Odysseus: “Do you know what he said? He said to me, we are better than the gods; we are kings. And kings must die, as the gods cannot. He said it to me when we were striding with our swords in hand through the broken gates of Troy, and as calmly as he might say it to you.” As he spoke, Menelaus of the great war-cry was fondling the arm of his wife, Helen, for whose beauty all that blood was shed. I was sitting with the people the poets sing... (shrink)

What would a visual image of a philosophical idea look like? Aren't philosophical concepts, by virtue of their very abstractness, incapable of being rendered visually? These are some of the questions raised in this catalogue of an exhibition at the Mount Holyoke College Art Museum, Mel Bochner: Illustrating Philosophy, which examines a specific project by the renowned conceptual artist. Curator and author Thomas E. Wartenberg explores Bochner's prints and drawings inspired by the writings of philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, a suite of (...) which was published as illustrations to the 1991 Arion Press edition of On Certainty. Through his sensitive analysis, Wartenberg shows how Bochner translates Wittgenstein's revolutionary claims about knowledge and doubt into visual images. Bochner's work presents an important corrective to a view of book illustrations as a crutch for understanding an author's meaning. Illustrations, in fact, can provide an alternative means of access to complex, even abstract ideas. This book will interest an academic audience, particularly in the areas of philosophy, art and art history, linguistics, and word and image studies. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Milanese Quartet FRED LICHT Milan, so often thought of as the heartless capital of grinding industry and heedless hedonism, is nevertheless home to at least four of the highest achievements of western art. Considered as a quartet, they represent both the greatness and the equivocal nature of human endeavor. Two of them, Raphael’s Sposalizio and Bramante’s Church of Santa Maria presso San Satiro, deal with the harmonious congruence (...) of human aspirations and human achievement attained by the grace of Providence. The limitations of human experience are accepted not as a curse but as a blessing because they are imposed by Divine Will. For Raphael as for Bramante, the artist’s obligation is to penetrate to the uttermost limits that circumscribe human existence. Having reached those limits he transmits to us the assurance that supreme fulfillment and serenity lie within and not beyond our grasp. The other two works, Leonardo’s Last Supper and Michelangelo’s Pietà Rondanini, conceive of the limits so gratefully acknowledged by Raphael and Bramante as nothing but the tragic starting point for their art. We can assume that all four artists had read Eccclesiastes and knew that “All is Vanity!” and consequently knew of the inevitable ruination that befalls everything terrestrial. Bramante and Raphael never mentioned the knowledge they had acquired from Ecclesiastes. Leonardo and Michelangelo made their recognition of Vanitas the very essence of their art. i. of this quartet, Raphael’s Marriage of the Virgin is by far the least popular today (fig. 1). The most obvious factor that arion 27.2 fall 2019 tends to make us wary of Raphael’s early work is its criminal overuse by religious as well as profane publicity. It has been massively reproduced in edulcorated colors, fragmented to yield sentimental details, visually bowdlerized. We cannot help but be heartily sick of Raphael Madonne on those hideous little catechism-class handouts and on expensive as well as cheap bonbonnières. We have become wary of seductive paintings and Raphael’s Sposalizio is eminently seductive. We may have sloughed off nearly all the Victorian hypocrisies and strictures, but in art we continue to be stoutly puritanical. We are more than a little convinced that seduction must necessarily be the result of a false or calculating appeal for our sympathies which we should resist. And there can be no doubt about it, Raphael, especially during his youth and early maturity, seduces and intends to seduce. Since we have little reason for self-esteem, we dismiss out of hand the possibility that Raphael might genuinely love us sight unseen. Indeed, who are we that he should want to seduce us? The love he bears us is a nuisance because it is hard to deserve or live up to such affection. So it is natural to suspect him of ulterior motives that might demean or disappoint us were we to fall victim to his seduction. Yet love is one of Raphael’s great gifts. If we feel unworthy of what he offers us, if we have been conditioned to distrust anyone who courts us without an obvious motive, then that’s our loss, not his. Perhaps if we look a little more closely at this particular seducer’s methods, we will find that they are practiced in good faith. He loves us because he sees the world sub specie amoris. The particular task he sets himself is not an easy one. The narrative, the wedding of the Virgin, is both intimate in spirit and minuscule in action. It hardly seems suitable for an altar that has to have an immediate effect on the faithful who approach it. It is a story that has been illustrated by many artists before Raphael—Perugino’s painting of the same subject is rightly and frequently cited—but it was Raphael who gave it its ideal and definitive representation. Just as paint20 a milanese quartet ings of the Last Supper painted after Leonardo’s version always strike us as a bit of a failure even when attempted by such giants as Tintoretto, Rubens or Tiepolo, so is it impossible to think of any Sposalizio after Raphael’s without an edge of disappointment. In fact... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Then Artemis Said DIANA LUEPTOW Then Artemis said, because our mother found no home but an island dragging anchor, a safe child will never be delivered. arion 26.3 winter 2019...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Keats Bicentennial u To commemorate the bicentennial of the death of John Keats, the Institute for Digital Archaeaology, in collaboration with the Keats Shelley Memorial Association, has commissioned a series of poems inspired by the poet’s life and works, including the following pieces by UK Poet Laureate, Simon Armitage and poet and performance artist, Scarlett Sabet. All of the commissioned poems will be available in a new anthology (...) entitled Avernus’ Springs to be published by the Acensious Press in 2022. Roger L. Michel, Jr. u arion 28.3 winter 2021... (shrink)

En días pasados tuvimos como huésped de honor en nuestra universidad al filósofo francés René Schérer, uno de los más ilustres representantes del pensamiento contemporáneo en el ámbito internacional. Egresado de la célebre Escuela Normal Superior de París (rue d’Ulm), René Schérer es actualmente profesor emérito de la Universidad París 8 (Vincennes-Saint Denis). Inicialmente se dio a conocer gracias a sus trabajos sobre estética fenomenológica y fenomenología de la comunicación, así como por su traducción, del alemán al francés, de las (...) Investigaciones lógicas de Husserl y por la biografía y ensayo crítico del filósofo alemán que escribió en colaboración con su amigo el filósofo Arion Kelkel. Se consagró, luego, al estudio de problemas filosóficos vinculados con la defensa de la utopía, el sentido de la hospitalidad, la crítica de la pedagogía, el reconocimiento de la diferencia y la inclusión del otro, el cosmopolitismo y la relación entre la universidad y la política. Entre sus libros más importantes de los últimos 20 años, de una obra prolífica, cabe mencionar: El alma atómica (1986) escrito en colaboración con Guy Hocquenghem, Apuesta sobre lo imposible (1989), Zeus hospitalario (1993), Utopías nómadas (1996), Miradas sobre Deleuze (1998), La pedagogía pervertida (1999), La Ecosofía de Charles Fourier (2000), Infantiles (2003), Hospitalidades (2004) y su último libro, sobre el cineasta italiano Pier Paolo Pasolini (2005). (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Two Sonnets DANIEL GALEF Thales to Thratta (spoken by “The Astrologer Who Fell into a Well”) All things are full of spirits. So said I, who plumbed the well of science, saw the sun made black and tracked its course across the sky, who, armed with muscle, wrote the river’s run. Where is my spirit? Thratta! I feel cold and wet. This well is deep. The world is wet (...) and cold. The world I knew was filled with gold and fire.... How quick the Olympic sun has set, how quick my words rewritten, and my land made palimpsest. The sea has left Miletus, the shore on which I walked and lectured—and the wise men who walked with me, whom I taught. The boundless sea, whose tides once rose to meet us has changed its shape, moved on. But I cannot. arion 27.2 fall 2019 Eudemus to Apollonius (spoken by the dedicatee of Apollonius of Perga’s first books of the Conic Sections) I write this note in the sand because I know the waves will wash it clean, and you won’t see it. Like the circles we traced here so long ago, our footprints fade from Pergamum. So be it. Your book was well-received. As was your son; his seems the echo of your dimming face. How did my thoughts, which like an hour-glass run, once hold the eternal laws of boundless space? The beach bends on forever. How might a man reckon every mote, each grit and grain? The universe of truths seems greater than could ever fit within the human brain— Yet love, which binds over such a greater span, all mortals its completeness can contain. 104 two sonnets... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:What Virgil Should Have Said KYLE GERVAIS Mortem infelicem canimus famamque perennem Sidoniae praeclara ducis quae sustulit alte moenia—multum illa et furiis iactata et amore saucia, deseruit cum foedera barbarus hospes, vique deum quassa et fratris, dum conderet ensem fatiferum profugi sub pectore et iret ad umbras, arma virumque ciens magnam contundere Romam. I sing the tragic death and endless glory Of Sidon’s exiled queen, the famous walls She (...) raised on high, her wild and wounded love When savage guest betrayed his bonded word And gods and brother shook her—till she took The fateful sword he left and sought the shades To call a man in arms to topple Rome. note With thanks to Sarah Shaughnessy for the idea and advice, and to Michael Putnam, who taught me that Dido never really dies in the Aeneid. arion 28.2 fall 2020... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Iago’s Roman Ancestors JAMES TATUM Othello is that rare thing: a tragedy of literary types who half suspect they are playing in a comedy. —D. S. Stewart, 1967 In memoriam Bill Cook1 Shakespeare’s Othello is a drama created for a world where everyone was bound by “service,” a formal connection to someone else superior, in a hierarchy that linked all persons in court, theater, and society through unavoidable obligation. (...) Service could range from the lightest kind of tie, to indentured servitude. This meaning of “service” reflects its origin in Norman French, from the Latin word for slavery, servitium. It is Iago’s sense of the word in his comment to his dupe Roderigo: “Why, there’s no remedy, ’tis the curse of service.” The perceived color of Othello poses a perennial challenge which producers and directors in the United States have to consider every time Othello is performed. Jim Crow did not officially end in most parts of the former Confederacy until the Civil Rights Acts of the 1960s; and even then such legacies of slavery and segregation as color prejudice remain a challenge, alive if now not entirely well, and they haunt many a production. It is this more recent history that inspired Patrick Stewart’s “photo-negative” production of Othello in Washington, DC in 1997, in which the English actor himself played Othello while the rest of the cast were black. Given recent and not so recent history, it is important to realize that there actually is a slave hard at work throughout Othello, from opening scene to last: not Othello himself, but his “ancient” or ensign, Iago. arion 27.1 spring/summer 2019 the slave-playwright of shakespeare’s OTHELLO Lodovico: O, thou Othello, that was once so good, Fallen in the practice of a damnèd slave, What shall be said to thee? Othello, 5.2.289–91 the plot of Shakespeare’s Othello comes from the story “Disdemona and the Moorish Captain” in Giraldi Cinthio’s The Hundred Tales (1565), but the theatrical tradition he used to adapt it for the stage was not other tragedies. He went back to a classical theater he had used to write one of his earliest successes, The Comedy of Errors, one he knew as well as any other through his study of it in Latin grammar school and afterwards: Roman comedy. What resulted was something of a puzzle to his later critics. Since the 17th century some of Shakespeare’s readers have alternately complained or marveled at the way Othello has the fast pace and structure of a farce. This accounts for its exceptional power as a tragedy when it is intelligently performed; the double catastrophe of Othello’s murder of Desdemona and his own suicide come more quickly and more violently, for example, than the endings of Macbeth, King Lear, or Hamlet. All of Othello’s characters are cast in the stereotypical roles first created in Menander and other playwrights of Greek New Comedy, and then passed on to later European vernacular theater through Plautus and Terence’s adaptations. In performance, Shakespeare’s Iago is at once a reprise of his earlier stage villains and a reincarnation of the servus callidus or clever slave playwright of Plautus. It is as if Zero Mostel’s Pseudolus in Sondheim’s A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum were playing Richard III. Iago creates what he regards as a comedy, from its opening scene before Brabantio’s house to its catastrophic end in Cyprus, and to the bafflement of Christian interpreters and others, he seems incapable of recognizing the enormity of his evil. Unlike his resourceful Roman ancestors, who think up ingenious plots to help their less clever owners 78 iago’s roman ancestors in their love affairs, Iago’s scenario is demonic, designed to destroy his master Othello, not save him. As I’ve suggested, one comedy in particular may have played an important role in the making of Othello: Plautus’ Amphitryon, with its story of Jupiter’s adulterous affair with Alcmena, the wife of the heroic king Amphitryon of Thebes. To aid him in his schemes Jupiter calls on his son the trickster... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hurricane Gloria LAWRENCE DUGAN A screaming northern gale flew past his wild words And slammed the sails, and pulled a wave toward heaven. —Aeneid, i.102–3 (Sarah Ruden, trans.) i. A phalanx of weather tools at the door, A shovel, an ice-pick, an umbrella, A new cane, leaning against each other, Plastic fabricated to resist storms, Reminds me of a storm I rode out years ago, The Nor’easter of 1985, (...) On the twenty-first floor of 5 Penn Center Across the street from where the Fox Theater Spread the bright wings of its marquee, folded Now forever, torn down, and then replaced With a glass-box not unlike the office I looked out of, watching the rain lashing Windows, tearing at the flags hung on poles On other buildings, solitary banners Left up as if to challenge the weather To do its worst, to refute the young storm Tearing northeast out of the Atlantic, Predicted only a few days before As a hurricane, that didn’t happen, But leaving the high-rise building nearly Deserted, with the ticker still running Across the wall; the market had opened Empty office or not, unoccupied Desks giving it that strange quietude Peculiar to such spaces, which the mind Expects to be filled, even while seeing Otherwise. arion 28.2 fall 2020 66 hurricane gloria I felt like a sailor for The only time in my life, stepping off The elevator at 21, and then Walking into the main hall and sensing The building swayed slighty, barely feeling It but knowing it distinctly, hearing It creak exactly as I had heard ships At sea in dozens of movies, and with The sound, the sway, the massive grid of pipes And beams giving and taking. jms Old timers hadn’t warned me about this Although some had ridden out several Storms as bad, real or metaphorical, Not even old Harris who remembered Moving down from Susquehanna county In ’29, to Wall Street and the Crash. ii. Future archaeologists of urban Storms will study pictures of umbrellas Taking flight, wrecked synthetic shapes blooming Against resistant hands, then abandoned, Stuffed into trash cans, twirling down alleys, Pastels, stripes or old-fashioned banker-black, The edge of the story, the windy street’s Last rebuke to those daring to stagger To lunch but caught in the nor’easterly Gale’s grey wall of wind and rain that rattled Doors and buckled windows. The building held Two dozen companies, and I still like To think one fronted for an anchorite, Some isolated individual Up on 24, alone at his desk In a skyscraper office for ten years Praying, sometimes looking down the cliff walls At the peregrine falcons sweeping home Lawrence Dugan 67 To their massive nest stuffed tight in the bronze Lap of a statue seated on City Hall, One of the allegories of Founders And Lenape chiefs placed high over Broad, The hawks diving downward athwart the storm Coming on in grey curtains wavering Over the city and the Delaware Valley. Across the river in Jersey The pines begin, in Camden the street dirt Is sand; halfway to the shore the forest Runs above the expressway, farms below, The pines flourishing in sandy barren Earth lacking nitrogen, incinerating Every dozen years, thousands of acres Blowing away in flames seen at the shore. After that rain those woods were safe for weeks. iii. Ten years and two jobs later I needed Census material and found it online On a rainy day in Center City In a high-rise office nearby, a halfDay ’s work done to my surprise in only Twenty minutes, then realizing as I Stood up from a computer that the view Was familiar. I was back on 21 In my old office; jms had moved But the grey sky cleared with a sweep of wind And the view north and south looked as before Wherever the market’s ticker-tape rolled now. The weather had surprised me again; The only full rainbow I ever saw, The ancient sign that spares the world from floods, A pure unblemished iridescent span, Appeared late in spring, in a sun shower.... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:I Listen Like Nausicaa to NPR KATIE HARTSOCK “Kwame wants to show me the Pru River... Young girls and women wash clothes along the banks.” —“River Blindness Robbed Him of His Sight But Not His Independence,” Morning Edition As if we stood with no one between us, not your translator or my handmaidens. Why should a young thing like me want a man oceans older, trailing a goddess who (...) gussies him up to take the years off. I’ll go online to read the radio story, posted with pictures of your cloudy face. “The trick,” you say, “to gardening blind is planting in straight lines.” Your hands in dirt, knowing by feel the cardinal directions, work alone. I’m rinsing the silks of my soaped-up trousseau for an abstract husband, in the river you reel your fish from, waters that breed the black fly whose parasitic bite pricked you, quick as a paper cut from a book of murder ballads, before you reached the age to marry. I could have brought cloths, those last days you could see, when you saw worms swim across your eyes, to swathe your itching, long ago, beyond all laws, before a state-mandated pill ended the disease. “I sleep and wake on my own.” But that is just what a king would say, washed up naked at my feet arion 26.3 winter 2019 and hiding histories of desire with a leaf. Our separate selves stay separate. No one suspects a thing as we walk, at a distance I decide, away from the river that rose to our thighs with its necessities, like laundry or longing, and its cataracts of other lives, disrobing. 34 i listen like nausicaa to npr... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Xenophilia STEVEN SHANKMAN We often hear about xenophobia in today’s troubled Western world, about fear of the stranger, fear of the demonized other. But we rarely, if ever, encounter the term, or the inspiring idea of, xenophilia, love of the stranger, hospitality. Rarely, that is, unless we regularly consult the Bible and the two great Homeric epics. What do these foundational works of Western culture teach us about the (...) relation between xenophilia—the gesture of welcoming the potentially dangerous stranger—and what it means to be truly human? Let us begin with an explicit reference to the word xenophilia that appears in an essay by the great and radical 20th -century philosopher on the nature of ethical obligation, Emmanuel Levinas, written in 1959. Here Levinas remarks: “Monotheism [by which Levinas says he means Judaism, Christianity, and Islam] is not an arithmetic of the divine.... It is a school of xenophilia and anti-racism [Il est une école de xénophilie et d’antiracisme].”1 The relationship between monotheism, in the Abrahamic religious tradition, and xenophilia is suggested at the beginning of the eighteenth chapter of Genesis, when three strangers appear to Abraham, who runs towards them to offer them food and drink. Who are these three strangers? One of them, it turns out, is God, and the other two are angels, but their identity does not concern Abraham. What he sees are three men and he wants merely to be hospitable towards them, to serve them. At the conclusion of the previous chapter, Abraham, at the age of ninety-nine, was arion 28.2 fall 2020 74 xenophilia circumcised. He is, as you can imagine, now in great pain. The rabbis say that God, knowing that Abraham is such a hospitable person, purposely made the day very hot so as to discourage wayfarers from braving the heat and thus tempting Abraham to exert himself during his early recovery from the trauma of his belated and recent circumcision. I have indicated, in brackets, the verses in which Abraham addresses the stranger(s) in the singular and in the plural, which cannot be discerned in the translation into English: God [the ineffable Tetragrammaton ‫יהוה‬— most often pronounced Adonai today] appeared to him [Abraham] in the plains of Mamre while he was sitting at the entrance of the tent in the heat of day. He lifted his eyes and saw: And behold! Three men were standing over him. He saw them and ran toward them from the entrance of the tent, and bowed toward the ground. And he said, “Adonai [meaning ‘My Lord’ or ‘My Lords’], if I find favor in Your [singular form in the Hebrew] eyes now, please pass not away [singular form of the verb] from Your [singular] servant. Let some water be brought and wash your [plural] feet, and recline [plural form of the verb] beneath the tree. I will fetch a morsel of bread that you [plural] may sustain yourselves, then go on [plural form of the verb]—inasmuch as you [plural] have passed your [plural form of the adjective] servant’s way.”2 “God appeared to him [Abraham] in the plains of Mamre while he was sitting at the entrance of the tent in the heat of the day. He lifted his eyes and saw: And behold! Three men were standing over him.” Where, exactly, is God in this passage? The rabbis of the Talmud suggest that God did indeed visit Abraham, but that when the three strangers arrived, Abraham asked God to wait (can you believe such audacity?) while he, Abraham, could first meet the needs of the three wayfarers. First things first! From this the Talmud concludes that “Hospitality to wayfarers is greater than receiving the Divine Presence.”3 A beautiful thought! But the verses from Genesis are even more radical than that. We wonder whether the alternation, Steven Shankman 75 in Abraham’s address to the strangers, between his addressing them first in the plural then in the singular and then back to the plural again, does not suggest a response to our question of where God appears in this passage. Could this alternation be suggesting that the way God appears in these verses... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:How We Write Plagues JAMES UDEN One advantage of writing about historical pandemics is that they have already occurred. From where I sit, as I listen to the loudspeaker on the council truck telling me to stay indoors, it is impossible to know what direction the covid-19 crisis will take. Certainly, aspects of the virus’s social impact have mirrored the trajectory of previous pandemics. Back in February, people in (...) France began circulating the phrase Je ne suis pas un virus, protesting acts of violence against Asian communities and resisting the well-documented tendency for societies to target ethnic minorities as scapegoats for epidemic disease. The President’s labeling of covid-19 as the “Chinese virus” aroused similar protest in the United States.1 At an armed rally at the state house in Lansing, MI, armed protesters demanded the reopening of businesses despite public health advice to the contrary, an act that raised familiar questions about the freedom of the individual versus the health of the collective in times of health crisis. Here in Boston, anti-lockdown protesters assembled at the Massachusetts State House on May 4, chanting “no more dictatorship”—language congenial to Boston’s history of colonial rebellion, though not especially fitting to the crisis at hand. Just one day earlier, a banner had flown over the buildings of Manhattan with the words CAPITALISM IS THE PANDEMIC. Whether the virus will redistribute power and become, in Walter Scheidel’s words, a “great leveler,” remains to be seen.2 arion 28.1 spring/summer 2020 Hunter H. Gardner, Pestilence and the Body Politic in Latin Literature. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019. x + 303 pages. $90.00. Brian Walters, The Deaths of the Republic: Imagery of the Body Politic in Ciceronian Rome, 2020. xv + 158 pages. $80.00. 132 how we write plagues Given that we have frequently been reminded that we are facing a pandemic of historic proportions, it is natural that people have turned to history for perspective. Daniel Defoe’s journalistic account of plague in London in 1665, A Journal of the Plague Year (1722), has catapulted to an unlikely relevance, promoted on the publisher’s website as the “surprise ‘must-read’ for people facing the covid-19 epidemic.” Thucydides ’ description of Athens’s experience of the plague in 430 bc has made news in The Economist, The Washington Post and The Guardian. Historical accounts of plagues are regularly being called upon to offer advice to the present. Yet not all plagues are alike. Historians have rightly protested about parallels being made between covid-19 and the aids crisis, since the current emergency response contrasts damningly with the Reagan government’s protracted silence and willful ignorance throughout the 1980s.3 One problem is the word “plague” itself, a term too suggestive of sin to represent the devastating impartiality of viral disease. “Plagues,” Susan Sontag wrote in aids and its Metaphors (1988), are “inflicted, not just endured.” She argued that the term imposed additional burdens on patients, who were portrayed as suffering some punishment, and could not simply be ill.4 To speak of “plagues” in the plural also suggests a common experience across time, a regular and shared event. Literary accounts of the plague do indeed share many common tropes. Yet there are important differences in the way communities have responded to outbreaks in different eras, and significant divergences in the meaning of disease. Accounts of plagues understandably arouse interest during a pandemic, but they are apt to mislead us, because the plagues so often look the same. One unshakable constant is the analogy between the body and the state, the “body politic.” As has long been recognized, the symbol surfaces across many, unrelated world cultures.5 In seeking to explain a unity composed of many parts, human beings have tended to look to the most immediate parallel— themselves. Although it has been invoked famously to justify James Uden 133 hierarchies within the state (Livy, Shakespeare, Hobbes), the image seems to resonate most intuitively when it conceptualizes danger, when the “health” of the state is threatened by “infection” or “disease.” In 2009, psychologists asked sixty -nine undergraduates at the University of Arizona to read a popular... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Persians TIMOTHEUS (Translated by John Warden)... urging on their floating bronze-beaked chariots ram by ram furrowing the waves with pointed teeth....... with humped heads stripped away arms of fir, thumped ’em on the left, mariners tumbled, smashed ’em on the right in their pinewood towers, back on their feet again. Ha! Tear off flesh to their rope-bound ribs, sink ’em with thunderbolts, rip away gilded splendour with iron-helmed (...) rams. Thonged javelins fly fire-like, shafts trembling in pierced limbs, wood slivers ablaze long-winged brazen-headed, slaughtered victims swarm. ◊♦◊ Sea with glass-green hair its furrows stained with blood; shouts of victors, screams of vanquished; the barbarous fleet borne away over the fish-crowned gleaming curves of Amphitrite’s breast. ◊♦◊ Lord of a daywide land, islander out for a sail ha! listing, tipping, arms and feet arion 28.1 spring/summer 2020 96 the persians thrashing in the buffeting waves, cries to the sea god, “Father...” Winds drop and veer, smite him on the other side. No Bacchus poured that liquid into his wine jar belly. He vomits up the boiling sea flood, screaming through clenched teeth against the defiling sea: “Was once not enough to have your proud neck yoked with bonds of hemp? See, now my lord will churn you with pine trees born in the mountains, encompass your watery plains with mariners, you madcap, long-loathed, faithless plaything of the swift-surfing winds.” Gasps out the words and a disgusting stream of sour sea water comes belching from his belly. ◊♦◊ Homeward they scurry, the Persian fleet, the foreigners squadron smashing into squadron in the long-necked strait jolts from their hands their mountain feet, leap from their mouths their gleaming helpmates; bodies without breath, without light, festoon the starsprent sea, weigh down the headlands. Survivors on the shore sit naked and freezing, tears dripping from their howled laments. Possessed by the dirge-song of grief, they keen and beat their breasts: “O vales of Mysia with your trees like a woman’s hair, take me home. For the winds are carrying me away. Timotheus 97 Never will the dust of earth receive my body....... in a cave where nymphs are born, below the ocean floor. Protect me from Helle, ship-bridged bringer of war. Had my lord not built that far-travelled causeway, never would I have come from Tmolus or Lydian Sardis to keep at bay the Greek war god. But now where shall I find sweet refuge from unbending fate? Who will free me from suffering and bring me home to Troy? Could I but fall at the ivy-robed knees of the Queen, the Mountain Mother, embrace her lovely arms and pray: ‘Goddess of golden hair, mother, I beg you rescue me, rescue me from the devious steel that slits the throat, from the wave-skimming gales, ship breakers, from Boreas that freezes by night. The winds will dash me to pieces. Already the cruel waves have torn the clothing from my body. Now I shall lie wretched, my flesh a feast to the tribes of birds.’” ◊♦◊ See a Greek with a sword of iron grab a man from Celaeno, rich in flocks, bereft in battle, drag him by the hair. Arms twined around knees, he breaks the seal of his lips seeking Greek in the shrill voice of Asia: Listen Mister not me why come. Not me, no never, big master send me, me no never come fight. Stay home Sardis, Sousa, Ecbatana. Great god Artemis 98 the persians Ephesus guard me. Swift-running backward-running they pursue their flight, cast from their hands the twin-mouthed javelins, tear the flesh from their faces, rip from their breasts their sumptuous Persian gowns, raise in one voice their Asiatic wailing. Those round the King are loud in panic at the coming disaster. The King looks down at the mingled host in flight, falls to his knees, defiles his body. Tossed in fate’s waves he speaks: Root and branch my house has fallen! The flaming ships of the Greeks have slain the flower of our youth. There is no way home, our ships consumed by the blazing might of harsh... (shrink)

In Herbert’s poetry the words which are the names of musical instruments function both on the level of literary text stylistic composition - they are constituent elements of the metaphors and comparisons - and as signs of concrete or symbolic objects, which constitute one of the categories of motifs visible in the poems. The essay is an attempt to define the function performed by the motifs of the lyre and the lute, the first two instruments to appear in Zbigniew Herbert’s (...) poetry. The group of poems in which the motifs of the lyre, the lute and the string - a frequent synexdoche of the two instruments - appear includes twelve poems: Do Apollina [To Apollo], O Troi [On Troy], Do Marka Aurelego [To Marcus Aurelius], Struna [The String], Las Ardeński [The Forest of Arden], Arijon [Arion, from the volume Struna Światła [The String of Light]), Niepoprawność [Incorrectness], Do Pięści [To the Fist], Prośba (A Request, from the volume Hermes, pies i gwiazda [Hermes, a Dog and a Star]), Apollo i Marsjasz [Apollo and Marsyas], Szuflada (The Drawer, from the volume Studium przedmiotu [A Study of an Object]), Wit Stwosz: Uśnięcie Najświętszej Marii Panny (Veit Stoss: Repose of the Virgin, from the volume Elegia na odejście [An Elegy on Passing Away]). In the symbolism of the poems by Zbigniew Herbert the motif of the lyre has ambivalent value. It symbolizes a type of art which does not suit twentieth century experiences or kind of poetry ruthlessly indifferent to evil and thus deserving ethical criticism on the one hand and represents art., which can provide man with a sense of the order of existence, on the other. It is because of the second function that is must be saved. In Herbert’s poems the lyre symbolizes classical poetry - its stylistic tone and function; it is also a symbol of music and harmony - presented as a desired state existing in the world. The string - if it is not a synexdoche of the lyre or the lute - becomes a symbol of new poetry, which results from twentieth century catastrophes, but does not totally reject classical tradition (though compared to it, it is only partial and incomplete). The way the two motifs function in Herbert’s poetry illustrates one of the author’s fundamental dilemmas. The question is: How can a poet who has rejected traditional classicism remain a twentieth century classical poet? (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content: Seven Poems NICOLAS CALAS (Translated by Avi Sharon) hellenizing surrealism: a greek door to europe Nicolas calas (Kalamares) may be considered merely a minor Greek poet, but he had a major global persona and influence. In the middle of the last century he played a catalyzing role in the international avant garde: He was a Zelig-like polemicist in three languages (Greek, French, and English) and across three cultural (...) capitals (Athens, Paris, and New York). But he always fought on a singular front: surrealism. Born in Lausanne in 1907, he grew up in Athens and by the later 1920s began to stand out in literary circles (he was over 6' 4") for his modernist if not revolutionary views. Starting from an interest in Freud and Marx, the subconscious and the revolutionary, Calas soon arrived at their natural synthesis—surrealism. Around the time when a distinctly Greek form of surrealist poetry emerged, with the 1935 publication of “Blast Furnace” by Andreas Embiricos, Calas was on his way to becoming its unofficial spokesman. He moved to the epicenter of the movement in Paris and with the 1938 publication of Foyers d’Incendie became the “most lucid and audacious” of founder André Breton’s acolytes, both prophet and demagogue of the group. Carried along in the current of European artists and thinkers leaving Europe for New York, he would continue the fight on the western wing of the faction (literally, coming to blows at a cocktail party with Clement Greenberg, representing the opposing Abstract Expressionist side). In 1942 he published another clarion pamphlet, Confound the Wise, giving the movement voice in English and befriending its most visible local supporters and practitioners, from Peggy Guggenheim to Marcel Duchamp. arion 27.1 spring/summer 2019 The Wyndham Lewis of the operation, Calas was a cross-border catalyst, evangelizing the role of surrealism as a liberating and generative force in modern literature and art. For him and other writers and poets, the weapon that would most effectively derange the reader’s habitual conformism into revelatory and revolutionary perception was the surrealist image, poetry’s lingua franca. For Greek practitioners it was completely natural for that magical representation to arise out of their god-infested, sun-filled landscape. Here they had a force that was both blinding and enlightening, penetrating and transformative, local and universal. For Calas, the primary echo or reflection of that essential image was the island of Santorini, referenced in several of the translations here (and reminiscent of his fellow national Nikos Gatsos’s use of the island of Amorgos in a similar context). It stood as the very symbol of fiery transformation, an image monstrous enough to shock the reader into a super-rational embrace of its own form of logic. This Hellenization of surrealism, like the Hellenization of modernism itself, was to become an important, transformative power in its own right. For many, the origin (and likewise, for many, the enclosing border ) of surrealism was France. “But it is French. It is their invention,” was how William Carlos Williams saw it, to his chagrin. Williams was convinced that the objective concentration on the image itself (“no ideas but in things”) could offer a salutary corrective to American poetry of his time. “It is the surrealists who have invented the living defense of literature,” he wrote in a 1929 essay. But for a poet so at one with the American Grain to be reconciled with surrealism’s ‘Francite’ he needed some way to cross the divide. His admiration for Calas’s work in clarifying and promoting the group’s ideas enabled the Greek poet to serve as a mediator, to allow the creative transference of its rebellious wisdom into Williams’s poetry. To borrow the title of one of his early American essays, Calas provided Williams a “Greek door to Europe.” In translating four of Calas’s French poems into English, published in 1941 with a frontispiece by the surrealist painter and magician Kurt Seligman, Williams leveraged Calas as the vehicle through which the “enabling foreignness” of surrealism could be grafted into the grain of his American modernist work, just as he set out on his magnum opus, Paterson. In a similar way... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content: Classical Art: A Life History DAVID CAST This is a wonderful book, rich in its purposes, wide in its range and, thanks to the author’s home institution, Christ’s College, Cambridge, lavishly illustrated with images of objects, many familiar, some less so. And it is written with an elegance and clarity that belies the depths of scholarship in its history. The first letter of the subtitle suggests the tenor (...) of Vout’s account, that since every age has conjured up a different idea of the classical, what is here is yet one more such history, a modest if particular account of what was and is still there in the records made of the Greek and Roman past. The basic metaphor Vout uses to define the focus of this history is that of conversation, whether such conversing is seen to exist between the objects themselves or between the past and the present, between those objects that have outgrown their intended functions to become part of a canon that has dictated taste over the ages, as she puts it, shaping culture and culture’s questions. Thus conversation is here, plus also what Vout is not afraid, when necessary, to call the misappropriations and translocations of the Greek and Roman objects she takes note of. Yet another contribution she adds to the idea of the classical comes from what she calls, perhaps a little awkwardly, the long durée approach to its subjects, seen first when these objects were produced, then as they survived Christianity and the fall of Rome and Byzantium, the French Revolution, modernism and fascism, to live Caroline Vout, Classical Art: A Life History from Antiquity to the Present, Princeton University Press, 2018. xi + 376 pages; 80 color + 132 b/w illustrations. $39.50. ISBN 9780691177038; E-book ISBN9781400890279. arion 27.1 spring/summer 2019 on in galleries and auction rooms, making the heart soar and the blood boil, as Vout claims, even today. It is a complex story she has to tell, difficult yet valuable, and its method is nicely exemplified by the first example considered, the two statues, known as the Tyrannicides, dated to 477–476 BCE, and located now in the National Archaeological Museum in Naples, attributed on the museum caption to the sculptors Kritios and Nesiotes, and dated to 477–476 BCE. The details here are crucial for, on investigation, it is clear these are not the statues that were erected in the Athenian agora to honor the men, Harmodius and Aristogeiton, who, by tradition, had killed the tyrant’s brother Hipparchus. Yet even this second group, as she notes, had been a stand-in, since the first piece to honor these men, made by the sculptor Antenor, had been stolen by the Persians in the sack of Athens in 480–479 BCE. Nor is this group here the actual second group but rather a copy, made by an unknown copyist working under the Roman Empire. What we have here are what might be called pretenders—yet ones, despite doubts about their authenticity, that have long been taken to mark a particular moment in the formal history of Greek art, the advent of the so-called Severe style in Athens and the birth of the classical moment of sculpture. Any full account of these statues depends then on a rich history, plus a range of other events; the existence of ancient casts of the Tyrannicides during the Roman Empire, marking out such statues as art, rather than having still their first meaning; the prior history in the Renaissance of the acquisition of ancient sculpture as a sign of power; the sight of the figure of Aristogeiton, then in the Palazzo Farnese in Rome, by Johann Joachim Winckelmann; the building up of these statues from fragments of other statues; in 1859 the identification of these figures as the Tyrannicides; and finally a reading of classical texts, those of Pausanias, Pliny and Lucian, that spoke, even if in contradictory ways, of all the actors here, Antenor, Kritios and Aristogeiton. To which should be added the recent accounts of these pieces, provided by schol172 classical art: a life history ars of classical art like Brunilde Ridgway, R. T... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content: Six Poems GEORGE KALOGERIS The Atomists To see what the matter is, in all of its dense, Teeming particulars, and not through the lens Of a microscope but by the most lucid, precise, Leap of imagination: the first was Leucíppus. But it was his student, Democritus, who stated That human understanding was truly futile, Given the random collisions of atoms. Still, He blinded himself to keep from being (...) distracted. When he broke the long-jump record by two whole feet, Bob Beamon dropped to his knees, buried his face In his hands, and wept in a pit of sand—the trace Of his human, Olympian flight still fresh as a heel-print. When the earthquake struck Kalamáta, and Uncle Sotíri Lost everything, he asked a taxi driver To take him to “a nice high place by the sea. And then come back for me in half an hour.” arion 28.3 winter 2021 58 six poems One Credit Seminar on the Odes of Horace We were sitting around a polished oak table, just getting to Those famous lines near the end of the Sestius Ode: Revenant whitefaced Death is walking not knowing whether He’s going to knock at a rich man’s door or a poor man’s When one of the students (Andrew) said it was “totally weird”— Which led us to look at the paleness of Death’s appearance, Whose pallor is what, when he comes, comes with him: the sickness and shock In his ghastly face. And that’s where we stopped. And then It was Jennifer’s email, saying “I’m sorry for missing class, But I’m having panic attacks. I keep flashing back To March 19th, when I entered my dorm-room and found my boyfriend Dead of an overdose... I can get you a note... What reading should I do to be prepared for next week?” O goodlooking fortunate Sestius, don’t put your hope in the future; The night is falling, the shades are gathering around; The walls of Pluto’s shadowy house are closing you in. There who will be lord of the feast? What will it matter, What will it matter there, whether you fell in love With Lycidas, this or that girl with him, or he With her? So David Ferry’s great translation goes, And its tone of tender, knowing, bemusement is Horace’s Pitying voice, but whose pity has come to speak to us Through the whitefaced mouth of revenant Death, still going From house to house, until he gets to Jennifer’s dorm-room. And what will it matter now if Andrew was drawn to the line About fishermen hauling their caulked boats to the water? It’s late September. We’re sitting around a polished oak table Whose wood is sacred to Jove, whose lightning-bolt Has already sounded deep in the heart of Indian summer. George Kalogeris 59 Greek School The very first poem I ever knew by heart: That sing-song forsaken one assigned to me. Recited on our other Independence Day. When some of the girls were dressed in peasant costumes, And some of the boys in kilts of the freedom fighters. And the timid rest of us in our Sunday best. In the church gym, where Father Mihos called us Up to the microphone, and one by one We showed the parents what we’d learned in Greek school. In Horace’s Ode to his Lyre, the poet prays That his song will serve as the medicine of sorrows, His stricken voice the trembling instrument— Schooled as he was in Sappho, who said the ancient Prescription left a bittersweet taste in her mouth: Glukopikron. For me it’s that first-grade poem I stammer to remember: Egwo tha geino Yiatrós... “I shall grow up to be a doctor...” Just saying that, my elders perk up their ears. And even if Poetry wasn’t the kind of calling Expected of me, and one by one they all Got sick and died, it’s still the medicine That keeps them leaning forward on their folding chairs. 60 six poems Money Doesn’t Grow On Trees But evergreen the... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Erictho and Demogorgon: Poetry against Metaphysics DAVID QUINT Epic without the gods? The Roman poet Lucan (39–65 ce) created a secular counter-epic inside classical epic, removing the genre’s usual pantheon of Olympian deities and replacing them with Fortune. His Bellum civile (titled De bello civili in manuscripts, alternately titled Pharsalia) a poem about the conflict between Julius Caesar and Pompey, thereby delegitimizes the emperors who succeeded the dying Roman (...) republic, including Nero, the reigning emperor of Lucan’s day.1 They are not part of a divine plan: no such plan has ever existed. In an epic where the gods are silent or refuse to speak, Pompey’s son, Sextus, anxious to know the future, has to seek other means. In Book 6, he consults the Thessalian witch Erictho about the outcome of the approaching battle in Pharsalia. She reanimates the corpse of a dead soldier on Pompey’s republican side and makes it talk (BC 6.419–830).2 Lucan’s scene of necromancy gave birth to a major antimetaphysical strain in the European literary tradition. Among others, Dante, Cervantes, Marlowe, Spenser, Goethe, and Shelley confronted this episode of the Pharsalia and pondered its implications. Erictho’s magic is a figure for poetic making itself. It turns the supernatural into theater— the divine machinery of epic exposed as a deus ex machina— and these authors’ responses to Erictho will shift from epic into dramatic forms. In place of the gods, in place of the epic visit to the underworld, particularly in place of and in response to Aeneas’s trip to the realm of the dead arion 28.2 fall 2020 2 erictho and demogorgon in the corresponding Book 6 of the Aeneid, Lucan presents Erictho’s macabre performance: human witchcraft and intimations of an alternate, eerie numen residing in the earth, a force of nature. Subsequent readers would give this latter power a name: Demogorgon.3 Lucan links republicanism and freedom to a kind of atheism and to historical contingency. He unmasks and strips the props of religion from Caesarism and monarchy. (In vain for the poet: Lucan was forced to commit suicide in 65 ce, after he was implicated in the failed Pisonian conspiracy against Nero.) Lucan desacralizes poetry itself, which here confesses its limits, which are the limits of human mortality, even as Erictho seems, however briefly, to overcome them. No, poetry cannot literally raise the dead: it is a magic trick that makes the words on the page form into images, take life, and speak to us. Lucan answers the criticisms the philosopher and theologian make to poetry by openly acknowledging the false bottom of the hat from which poetry pulls its rabbits. It has no access to a real bottom, an underworld beyond death; it is all representation.4 The philosopher and the theologian may be poets no less than he is, but they do not want to know it, too busy, perhaps, in supporting tyranny over human minds and bodies. Plato and Augustine are two such critics on either historical side of Lucan, and they help us to understand the stakes of the Roman poet’s project. Both were dissatisfied with literature and they wanted to be something more than the great rhetoricians that they were. In the Symposium, Plato demystifies the archetypal myth of poetry, the singing of Orpheus that sought to bring Eurydice back from death: the gods sent Orpheus away from Hades empty-handed and showed him the mere shadow [eidolon] of the woman he had come to seek: Eurydice herself they would not let him take, because he seemed, like the mere minstrel that he was, to be a lukewarm lover, lacking the courage to die as Alcestis died for love, and choosing rather to scheme his way, living, into Hades. And it was for this that the gods doomed him, and doomed him justly, David Quint 3 to meet his death at the hands of women. (179d)5 Behind the words of his shallowly sentimental speaker Phaedrus we can detect Plato’s familiar hostility to poetry, his objection in Book 10 of the Republic that the poet merely imitates the appearances of things and is... (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)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Elizabethan Bacchae STEPHEN ORGEL Euripides’s Bacchae, with its antic hero and celebration of the joys of revenge, would seem to be especially relevant to Elizabethan drama, an ancestor of The Spanish Tragedy or Hamlet. In fact, however, it seems to have been practically unknown to the Elizabethans. With the new ProQuest version of EEBO (Early English Books Online) it is now possible to search early English books for (...) specific references; so I paired the name Euripides with books printed in England before 1640 to see what came up. I got 474 hits. Many of these, of course, were duplicates, appearing in works that were issued in multiple editions—the actual figure, however, was still something over three hundred. Most of those, however, were cases in which Euripides’s name simply appears in a list of famous ancient authors. Citations which actually quoted Euripides for the most part indicated no knowledge of the work cited, but were only bits of wisdom that might have come from any of the multitude of collections of aphorisms and moral stories throughout the period. There was only one English edition of a play of Euripides in Greek, The Trojan Women, published by John Day in 1575— continental editions were, of course, easily obtainable, but it must be to the point that English publishers did not see a sufficient market to produce them domestically; and there were no subsequent editions of Day’s Trojan Women. As for The Bacchae, I found only a single case where I believe it is being cited, and in a context, moreover, that indicates some familiarity with the play. John Bishop’s Beautiful Blossoms, a collection of historical anecdotes published in 1577, recounting the history of Demetrius, king of Macedonia, says, “Then fled Demetrius unto Thebes, where one scoffingly applied vnto him that verse arion 28.3 winter 2021 64 the elizabethan bacchae of Euripides: he came vnto the Dyrcean springs, and Ismenus, his divine and goodly fourme and shape being chaunged in to a mortall.”1 This is a version of a bit of Dionysus’s opening speech, I am here at the springs of Dirce, the river Ismenos, Changing my shape from divine to mortal... There is no reason to assume that John Bishop (about whom I can learn nothing) knew the play, but he is certainly citing someone who did. The play, then, to the Elizabethans was either practically unknown or deliberately ignored. It was not translated into English until the 1780s, and then two translations were published within a year of each other—for the English, it was an enlightenment and romantic text. Schlegel’s Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature (delivered 1806, published 1846) and Nietzsche’s Birth of Tragedy (1872) were the works that established The Bacchae as the quintessential Greek tragedy, though for Nietzsche, ironically, the two destroyers of the Greek tragic sense, the two great cultural villains, were Euripides the ironist and Socrates the arch-rationalist. But Nietzsche sees Euripides, at the end of his life, having a major change of heart, realizing that Dionysus was simply too powerful to be expunged from art and society; and The Bacchae was thus the fullest expression of this tragic truth. The problems with this argument are manifold: Euripides the ironist is quite evident in The Bacchae, so it hardly represents a change of heart; and the claims of the irrational are fully present in his earlier plays, for example, in Hippolytus, where all the poetic energy is in expressing the uncontrollable violence of passion, and the virtues of morality and self-control are meagre indeed. The essay was soundly refuted in its own time, and Nietzsche withdrew and recanted it. Its celebrity is a modern phenomenon: whatever its historical defects, it speaks to the dangerous attractions of unreason. There is a perverse element in Nietzsche’s argument, too: Dionysus, as the embodiment of revelry, is surely as essential Stephen Orgel 65 to comedy as to tragedy; and one could press this further. At the end of The Symposium, Socrates tells Agathon and Aristophanes, tragic and comic dramatists, that their arts (or crafts: the word is techne) are essentially the same. Heavy weather has... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content: Three Odes HORACE (Translated by Charles Martin) To Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa No fears, Agrippa: your exploits will be Saluted by a bard who will eclipse Homer in singing your command of ships, Your winning use of cavalry. It won’t be us. Gifts far surpassing mine Are to be found in Varius, who sings Achilles’ spleen, Ulysses’ wanderings At sea, or Pelops’ nasty line. Of loftiness, we have a (...) deficit, And so our Muse forbids us to pursue Praising your glory and our Caesar’s too, Lest, overwrought, we lessen it. Varius is fit to sing of Mars arrayed In armor, of Meriones in dust, Or of those gods that Diomedes thrust His lance through, with Athena’s aid. Ours, the wine bar and the local fray, The bachelorettes whose nails leave livid traces We later notice on their boyfriends’ faces And lightly sing of, in our way. (Odes i.6) arion 28.3 winter 2021 74 threee odes To Leuconoe Stop seeking what the gods prohibit us from apprehending, Leuconoe—the date on which it all comes to an ending. Better to toss the Dream Book and accept whatever comes, Whether Jove sends more winters, or the last we’ll know now drums The Tuscan Sea into submission on opposing cliffs. Be wise—decant this evening’s wine, curtail your hopeful ifs: Live in the moment: as we speak, now is becoming then; And insofar as possible, ignore tomorrow’s, “When….” (Odes i.11) To Iccius Iccius, are you hot for Arabian Loot now, devising tactics to subjugate The previously undefeated Kings of Sabaea? Forging new fetters For the ferocious Medes while previsioning Your oriental sex-slave, unguarded by The boyfriend whom you’ve slain in battle? What perfumed page from some royal palace, Whose father taught him Sinoform archery, Will be your Ganymede? Oh, deny falling Rivers the right to scale steep mountains, Tell us the Tiber can’t flow back upstream, When you—who were once so very promising, Rush to exchange your Works of Panaetius AND those Platonic scrolls you scoured bookstalls in search of—for Spanish armor! (Odes i.29)... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:English Classical: The Reform of Poetry in Elizabethan England STEPHEN ORGEL Roger ascham, writing in the 1560s, in the course of a treatise on education, urged the reform of English poetry on classical models: “Our English tongue, in avoiding barbarous rhyming, may as well receive right quantity of syllables, and true order of versifying... as either Greek or Latin....”1 He cites as an example of right quantity of syllables (...) and true order of versifying this translation by the scholar and poet William Watson of a verse from the Odyssey: All travelers do gladly report great praise of Ulysses. For that he knew many men’s manners, and saw many cities. This does not sound much like English poetry, but if we count it out we can see that it does, more or less, follow the quantitative rules. The trouble is that the rules have little to do with English pronunciation. Vowels are long by position (followed by two consonants) regardless of how they are pronounced ; moreover, Watson makes vowels long if they are stressed (such as the a in “travelers” and “manners” and the i in “cities”), again regardless of how they are pronounced. For the Elizabethans, this was a problem not with the rules, but with English, both in its dissimilarity from the classical tongues and in the variety of spelling and pronunciation at the time—proponents of quantitative verse in English observe that a necessary first step would be to stabilize the language, as Gabriel Harvey wrote to Edmund Spenser, “there is no one more regular and justifiable direction, either for the assured and infallible certainty of our English artificial prosody particularly, or generally to bring our language into art and to arion 27.2 fall 2019 frame a grammar or rhetoric thereof, than first of all universally to agree upon one and the same orthography.”2 But even with a stable orthography, the application of quantitative rules to English is problematic. To begin with, it is not clear in what sense an English vowel can be said to be long or short—to consider the vowels in stressed syllables invariably long, as Watson does, is entirely arbitrary. There is obviously a difference between the a sound in “rat” and in “rate”; such vowels are now described as short and long, but in pronunciation, they may or may not be of equal extension : thus, the a in “rate” is not, in speaking, longer than the a in “rat,” it is simply pronounced differently; whereas the i in “rise” is certainly longer than the i in “rid.” If quantity means length, English vowels are too erratic to serve—Harvey observed to Spenser that in some quantitative hexameters Spenser had sent him, “the,” “ye” and “he” were treated as short, but “me” was long.3 The issue is especially vexed in the case of vowels that are long by position. The most common examples in English are the -ing endings of participles, which are invariably unaccented and stubbornly short when spoken. In fact, Thomas Campion confronted precisely this problem; and his way of dealing with it gives a clear sense of how willed the whole quantitative system in English necessarily was: For though we accent the second [syllable] of Trumpington short, yet is it naturally long, and so of necessity must be held of every composer.4 What can “naturally” mean here? Are the rules of Latin prosody laws of nature? Harvey had a clear sense of the practical problems, writing to Spenser, “in short, this is the very short and long: position neither maketh short nor long in our tongue,” and concludes that some other rule must be found for English “that should as universally and canonically hold amongst us as position doth with the Latins and Greeks.”5 The larger assumption behind Ascham’s and Harvey’s proposals for a new poetry was that the “barbarous” England 44 english classical of the time could be rectified by the application of classical rules. A return to the classics held out the promise of culture and civility—not only in poetry, of course, but poetry seemed a particularly clear example. Nobody thought the transformation would be easy; a hectoring... (shrink)