In some cases discussed below, the present form of the Septuagint is not representative of how Ancient Greek Tragedies were received by the LXX translators, but of how Old Testament traditions in Greek form were received by the tragedians.

Students of the play have not appreciated the merits of W. Dindorf's proposal to delete lines 895–7: his conjecture is not reported by most editors; when reported it is not accepted; and it has been taken seriously perhaps only in an iobiter dictum of Wecklein. Nevertheless, the arguments in its favour are even more powerful than Dindorf realised.

Here in the proem to his fifth book Lucretius is praising the philosophical achievements or discoveries of Epicurus through favourable comparison with other discoveries of traditional heroic or divine figures; first, in this passage, with the products of bread and wine associated with the gods Ceres and Liber , and later with the deeds of the god-hero Hercules. This technique clearly derives from the σγκρισις of formal rhetoric, one of the basic exercises through which composition was taught in ancient schools, (...) and Lucretius begins with ‘confer’, an imperative which has something of a formulaic force in rhetorical comparisons. But it is not the purpose of this note to point out the rhetorical qualities of this passage; Lucretius' treatment of Ceres and Liber has other important literary and philosophical associations, links which have not been noted or explored by scholars. (shrink)

Euripides, Medea 11–13 :12 πολιτν codd. et Σbv; πολίταις V3, sicut coni. Barnes 13 ατ Sakorrphos; ατή codd. et gE et Stob. 4.23.30In his recent discussion of this passage , Diggle has convincingly argued for πολίταις and ατ, the latter of which he places in his new Oxford text, but recognises that υγ remains highly problematic : ‘The truth, I think, is still to seek’. It is to this last difficulty that I should like to suggest a solution.The problems of (...) υγ are syntactical, as Diggle clearly demonstrates : ‘With which verb is υγ to be constructed?’ Of these νδάνουσα is more likely for position, ίκετο for sense; but the former construction produces an obscurity, the latter an unacceptable hyperbaton. Another complicating element is the juxtaposition υγ πολιτν. it is clearly significant, and by its intervention appears to prevent taking υγ as π κοινο with both verbs, the third possible construction.As a solution I should like to revive a forgotten conjecture of Pierson's, made in his Verisimilia . His υγς πολίταις appears both to solve all the syntactical problems and to give appropriate point to the juxtaposition of ‘exile’ and ‘citizen’. υγάς would then go with νδάνουσα and bear a concessive sense: ‘pleasing, though an exile, the citizens to whose land she came’, a nuance found already in Wecklein's paraphrase of his text υγ πολιτν. ‘Sie gefällt denen, in deren Land sie gekommen ist, obwohl sie die Bürgerschaft als eine fremde, landesflüchtige Person gegenübersteht’. This contrast between citizen and exile and the necessity for the latter to please the former are naturally important themes in the dramatic situation of the Medea — cf. Medea's words at 222 χρ δ ξένον μν κάρτα προσχωρεν πόλει, with Page's note. (shrink)

Near the end of Euripides' "Helen", Helen reportedly exhorts the Greek troops to rescue her Egyptian foes: "Where is the glory of Troy ? Show it to these barbarians" . Helen's rallying cry serves as a point of departure for investigating the nature and status of kleos in a play which invites reframing her question: Where, indeed, is the glory of Troy if the report of Helen's abduction by Paris is untrue? The drama deconstructs the notion of a unitary, transcendent (...) meaning of "kleos" by demonstrating the slippage between its two root-meanings in Homer as "immortal fame," legitimated by the gods, and as mere "report" or "rumor." A diminution of the status of the proper name runs in parallel with this slippage between the two senses of "kleos": the heroic name loses its privileged status as a stable, transparent sign of character and becomes instead a signifier vulnerable to dissemination . As a vehicle of deception, Helen's phantom-twin becomes a figure for the polysemy of the signifier, both visual and linguistic. The phantom's substitution for Helen also highlights her symbolic role as a marker of men's status in a competitive system of exchange. If the play presents Helen as a continual object of men's attempts to capture her in song as well as in war, it presents heroic kleos as an equally insecure possession, insofar as it is always contingent on the "report" of others. Indeed, Helen becomes a metaphor for the duplicity inherent in the mimetic process by which fame is transmitted. That "kleos" turns out to have been a dangerously deceptive signifier is a lesson of more than literary interest for the Athenians watching Euripides' "Helen" -the forces of the Sicilian expedition had been annihilated only a year earlier. (shrink)

Theseus, on entering, immediately demands of the Chorus an explanation of the in the house and of the lack of proper welcome for the returning master. His first thought is that something may have happened to the aged Pittheus. No, say the Chorus, the has nothing to do with the old: it is the young whose death causes pain . Naturally, Theseus now leaps to the conclusion that it is his children whose ‘life is pillaged’ : no, he is told, (...) it is his wife. (shrink)

The first question here is the interpretation of line 638. Burges wrote: ‘Constructio sic solvenda est: M. Parmentier in the Budé edition translates, ‘On ne souffre pas quand on n'a nul sentiment de ses maux’, likewise assuming that is doing double work. For this he compares Andromache 706 f., Electra, 383, and Orestes 393. None of these passages is in fact an example of how a negative can negative simultaneously a finite verb and a participle. But in any case, what (...) is the subject of Burges supposed that a line was lost ; Parmentier does not explain his ‘On’. (shrink)

We now know that the epitomes prefixed to the plays of Euripides in the medieval manuscripts were written not for this purpose but as part of a complete collection of Euripidean epitomes, arranged alphabetically by initial,and intended presumably to make the subject-matter of the plays available to persons unable or unwilling to read the plays themselves. The first direct proof of the existence of this collection came with the publication in 1933 of a fragment containing Rhesos, Rhadamanthys, Skyrioi ; we (...) now have parts of it in three other papyri as well, and may reasonably suppose that P. Oxy. 420 is also from the same work. (shrink)

In memoriam: Mira Balija PlanincEuripides's Hecuba is not one of the best-known tragedies. The story is vividly memorable, however. Troy has fallen. The Greeks have finished their killing and plundering and have begun their homeward journey. As soon as they cross the Hellespont and make camp on what some might call the European side, in Thrace, they bury Achilles. The Trojan queen, Hecuba, is enslaved, as are the only two of her daughters who remain alive, Polyxena and Cassandra, the latter (...) to Agamemnon himself. Her husband Priam was killed at Troy, and so too were all of their many sons—except one: the youngest, Polydorus, who years before had been sent for his protection, along with a substantial amount of Trojan... (shrink)

In 1998, I suggested a new text for a notably corrupt passage in Pindar's Isthmian 5. This article is in effect a sequel to that earlier discussion. In the 1998 article, I proposed, inter alia, that the modern vulgate text of I. 5.58, ἐλπίδων ἔκνισ’ ὄπιν, is indefensible and the product of scribal corruption in antiquity, and that chief among the indefensible products of corruption there is the supposed secular use of ὄπις, as if used to mean something like ‘zeal’. (...) This is a sense for which there is no good evidence in classical Greek, where ὄπις always has a delimited religious denotation, meaning either ‘gods’ response’, ‘divine retribution’, or else ‘religious awe’ or ‘reverence’ towards the gods, through fear of that response or that retribution. If we discount I. 5.58 itself, all the pre-Hellenistic attestations can be straightforwardly listed under these headings: Il. 16.388 θεῶν ὄπιν οὐκ ἀλέγοντες, Od. 14.88 ὄπιδος κρατερὸν δέος, Hes. Theog. 221–2 θεαὶ... |... ἀπὸ τῷ δώωσι κακὴν ὄπιν, Pind. P. 8.71–2 θεῶν δ’ ὄπιν | ἄφθονον αἰτέω, sim. Od. 20.215, 21.28, Hes. Op. 187, 251, 706, along with, seemingly, a fragmentary fifth-century Thessalian verse inscription, CEG 1.120.1 Hansen; Hdt. 9.76.2 θεῶν ὄπιν ἔχοντας, 8.143.2. In addition, one other instance can be interpreted as either or, or in effect both: Od. 14.82 οὐκ ὄπιδα φρονέοντες... οὐδ’ ἐλεητύν. In all cases, though, ‘gods’ are specified, usually as a dependent genitive with ὄπις, or else separately but in the near context. Hellenistic and later occurrences of the word are few, and hints there of a secular reading can actually be taken to reflect misunderstandings based on, precisely, the early corruption in I. 5. (shrink)

Deliberative democratic theorists often trace their idea that vigorous democracies rely on open deliberation to ancient Athenian democracy. Furthermore, deliberative theorists claim that equal, inclusive, rational, and government responsiveness can reverse trends of political apathy. Although the equal right to speak in the Assembly (isēgoria) was a defining trait of Athenian democracy, we have little evidence for actual ancient deliberative practices. By using the agōnes or formal debates in two of Euripides’ political plays—Suppliant Women and Children of Heracles—as a proxy (...) for such interactive citizen debate, this article explores two main questions: first, to what degree does ancient tragedy reflect expectations of deliberative democracy?; and second, what lessons can be drawn from these dramatized speeches for contemporary debates? Importantly, confirming many key expectations of deliberative democratic theory, Euripides’ agōnes provide additional support for the critique that successful deliberation is not solely rational but requires emotional saliency relevant to the context of the debate. Thus, Euripides’ dramatizations imply that positive deliberation is not simply a matter of increasing communicative opportunities but requires a more robust civic education that includes psychological and philosophical training. (shrink)

While readers of Euripides' Hippolytus have long regarded Phaedra's deltos as a mechanism of punitive revenge, I argue here that the tablet models itself on a judicial curse (defixio) and that its main function is to ensure victory for Phaedra in the upcoming “trial” over her reputation. In support of my thesis I examine three interrelated phenomena: first, Hippolytus' infamous assertion that his tongue swore an oath while his mind remains unsworn (612); second, Phaedra's status as a biaiothanatos; and third, (...) Phaedra's claim that Hippolytus “will learn sophrosune” (731), a speech act that, I conclude, anticipates the silencing effect on Hippolytus of Phaedra's death and her writing. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 123.1 (2002) 1-34 [Access article in PDF] Ninagawa's Production of Euripides' Medea Mae Smethurst [Figures]The Japanese theater director Yukio Ninagawa, known for expressing his opposition to repressive politics in his productions during the 1960s, claimed that he staged the Medea because he wanted Japanese women to know that they could be as strong, as straightforward, as the character Medea. Japan, which has been the largest (...) consumer of his Medea, was and still is a male-dominated society. According to Ninagawa, it is a country in which for a woman to be demure and weak is considered a virtue. 1 And yet, if you look closely at Euripides' Medea you might conclude that Medea, although strong, is not an ideal role model for women. 2 (This was the view of Leda Geh of the Singapore Sunday Star, who reviewed Ninagawa's production in 1992.)Ninagawa's Medea was enormously successful. It ran for more than 250 performances in Japan, in other parts of Asia, and in the West, even though all the performances were in the Japanese language. Between the first productions of the Medea in 1978 and the latest in 1999, Ninagawa played to oversold, sold-out, or virtually sold-out houses in Tokyo, Osaka, and Nagoya, as well as in smaller cities throughout Japan. 3 The 1993 [End Page 1] production in Tokyo had a three-night run, in a theater with a capacity of eight hundred seats, which was on average 84 percent filled. 4 During a second tour to Athens in 1984, over a two-night run at the Herodes Atticus Theater (which has a capacity of six thousand people), fourteen thousand attended the performances. According to the producer Tadao Nakane (whom I interviewed in Tokyo on 15 March 1999), the audiences, including those sitting on the sides of the Acropolis, applauded so long and hard that tears came to his eyes. 5 In London, in 1978, Tokusaburo Arashi's performance of Medea brought him a nomination for an Olivier award 6 and, in the fall of 1999, Ninagawa served as the first non-English-speaking foreign director of the Royal Shakespeare Company's production of King Lear. Given these and other successes, it is clear that Ninagawa was able to bridge the gap between the West and East, on the one hand, by appealing to Western audiences with his Japanese productions and, on the other, by bringing a Western play to Japanese and other audiences.In this article I will consider how Ninagawa was able to take this ancient Greek tragedy and make it popular, not only with other Asian or non-Japanese audiences but also with those in Japan. He based his Medea on the poet Mutsuo Takahashi's 7 line-by-line adaptation of Euripides' [End Page 2] Medea. Not all of Takahashi's lines are used in each production; however, Ninagawa's productions of Medea, like his production of Oedipus the King, do adhere to the words of the text much more closely and fully than do Tadashi Suzuki's Bacchae or Trojan Women. Ninagawa infused his productions of the Medea with a very strong Japanese presence, consisting of elements drawn from Japan past and present. And it is these elements that I believe have helped ensure his success with Japanese audiences who (like us) bring their own cultural baggage to the theater.To demonstrate the Japanese content of the productions, I draw on a live performance of the Medea that I saw in Tokyo in 1993 and on my translations from the Japanese of both Takahashi's adaptation of Euripides' text and Tange Kazuhiko's translation from the ancient Greek. 8 I also draw on programs, playbills, the published notes of Ninagawa, and videotapes of productions. I hope to show how Ninagawa infused the Greek tragedy with a Japanese presence in the Tokyo production of 1993 and to note how that production differed from the version of his Medea performed in Athens in 1984. I place the Tokyo performance within its cultural context by pointing out the Japanese elements... (shrink)

With _Trilogy of Resistance_, the political philosopher Antonio Negri extends his intervention in contemporary politics and culture into a new medium: drama. The three plays collected for the first time in this volume dramatize the central concepts of the innovative and influential thought he has articulated in his best-selling books _Empire_ and _Multitude_, coauthored with Michael Hardt. In the tradition of Bertolt Brecht and Heiner Müller, Negri’s political dramas are designed to provoke debate around the fundamental questions they raise about (...) resistance, violence, and tyranny. In _Swarm_, the protagonist searches for an effective mode of activism; with the help of a Greek-style chorus, she tries on different roles, from the suicide bomber and party apparatchik to the multitude. _The Bent Man_, set in fascist Italy, focuses on a woodcutter who resists fascism by bending himself in two and using his own now-twisted body as a weapon against war. In _Cithaeron_, perhaps the most audacious of the three plays, Negri reworks Euripides’s _Bacchae_ to explore the circumstances that would compel a diverse and creative community to withdraw from both the despotic government that constrains it and the traditional family relationships that reinforce that despotism. First published in France in 2009 and featuring an introduction by Negri, _Trilogy of Resistance_ provides a direct and passionate distillation of Negri’s concepts and offers insights into one of the most important projects in political philosophy currently under way, as well as a timely reminder of the power of theater to effectively dramatize complex and challenging ideas. (shrink)

Barrett finds lines 1010–15 difficult. He says that ‘hovers between “an heiress as my wife” and “marriage with an heiress”’, that ‘a Greek heiress did not inherit property as her own: it passed not to her but with her, to her husband and ultimately to her children.—In Attic law a widow was never : a man's property went to his legitimate children.