The comparison by which the Chorus of Satyrs in Euripides’ Cyclops 469–471 illustrates its wish to participate in the blinding of the Cyclops is regarded as difficult in research on the play, due to the ambiguous expression ὥσπερ ἐκ σπονδῆς θεοῦ (469). There is no consensus either on the question of how the reference to libation is to be understood, nor on whether the transmitted phrasing is correct at all. In the present paper I attempt to show that doubts over (...) the transmission are unfounded and that attempts to refer the comparison not to libation but to the ritual use of water for handwashing at sacrifice are not persuasive. Rather, Euripides in this passage is engaging with the theme of libation on several levels of meaning: when we pay close attention to the context, cult-specific associations and literary applications of libation as a motif in Homer and Aristophanes, the words of the satyrs can be read, firstly, as a metaphorical reference to the two main actions in Odysseus’ plan for revenge, and secondly as a subtle allusion to the use of libation and spit-roasting in sacrificial ritual. (shrink)

Editors of Lysistrate have regarded this passage as a kind of cursus honorum of a well-brought-up young Athenian lady: the chorine first served at the age of seven as a bearer of the sacred casket ; then at the age of ten as miller of corn for Athena Archegetis ; then followed service as a ‘bear’ of Artemis at the Brauronia; finally, she returned to Athens as a basket-bearer, holding a string of figs, when a fair young girl. After this, (...) presumably, she married. There are several difficulties in this interpretation: notably, the intrusion into service apparently wholly devoted to Athena of a spell as one of Artemis' servants at Brauron; moreover, the evidence is that Artemis' ‘bears’ were pre-pubescent, not young girls on the verge of marriage, as the above interpretation seems to require them to be. Another weakness lies in the period of service as an arrephoros: this passage seems to be the only direct evidence that arrephoroi might be seven-year-old, rather than adolescent, girls. A more extreme interpretation is that of A. Brelich, who regarded this passage as proof that there existed in fifth-century Athens a system of universal female initiation, based on four successive grades, arrephoria, aletria, arkteia and kanephoria. I do not propose to comment in detail upon Brelich's hypothesis, but critics of it might begin by questioning the age and number of the arrephoroi, and the function and location of the kanephoroi. (shrink)

There are two possible positions with regard to the Mycenaean hegemony: that it existed or that it did not. Modern scholars who accept its existence appear to be more vocal in arguing their position than are those who question the existence of Mycenaean unity. Desborough, for example, states forcibly:I am firmly convinced that there was one ruler over the whole Mycenaean territory, with his capital at Mycenae, although the tablets are of no assistance one way or the other in this (...) matter, and although the overlordship of Agamemnon clearly envisaged by Homer can perhaps be explained simply as a military leadership for the purpose of waging war against Troy. The burden of proof must therefore depend on other evidence, the archaeological material taken in conjunction with the fairly frequent mention by the Hittites, in the fourteenth and much of the thirteenth centuries, of the king of a land called Ahhiyawa, which I believe to represent the entire Mycenaean orbit.The opposite position is represented largely through hints given in a larger context. Stubbings, for example, writes of ‘the Mycenaean Greeks of the mainland and the Mycenaean rulers of Cnossus’ and of ‘the mainland kingdoms’. Catling speaks of ‘metropolitan Greeks grown jealous of the wealth and power which their Knossian relatives had built up’. This emphasis on plurality, it seems to me, is the best way not only to view the events of the Mycenaean Greek world but also to understand the nature and degree of change in Greece during the Dark Age period. (shrink)

In Euripides' Bacchae Dionysos visits Thebes in disguise to establish his mysteries there. And so, given normal Euripidean practice, it is almost certain that in the lost part of his final speech Dionysos actually prescribed the establishment of his mysteries in Thebes. In the same way the Homeric Hymn to Demeter tells how the goddess came in disguise to Eleusis and finally established her mysteries there. After coming to Eleusis she performs certain actions in the house of king Celeus, for (...) example the drinking of the κυκεν, which have long been recognized as corresponding to ritual undergone by the initiands in the Eleusinian mysteries. It is the main thesis of this paper that just as elements of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter seem to derive from a ερς λγος of the Eleusinian mysteries, so certain elements of the Bacchae derive from a ερς λγος of the mysteries of Dionysos, and that furthermore Euripides consciously alludes to the Dionysiac mysteries for a dramatic effect dependent on the religiosity of his audience, rather as Aeschylus alludes in the Oresteia, on the principle μαθοσιν αδ, to the mysteries of Eleusis. This case will suffer from two drawbacks. Firstly there is the general scepticism about ritual patterns in drama arising as a reaction to the excesses of, for example, Murray and Cornford. This means that a far greater degree of probability seems to be required from suggestions of this kind than from the more traditional mode of speculation of, say, textual criticism. And secondly, it must be immediately and frankly admitted both that we do not know much about the mysteries of Dionysos and that most of what we do know is from the Hellenistic and Roman period. In the argument that follows recourse will sometimes be had to two assumptions. The first is to suppose a degree of continuity between the Dionysiac mysteries of the classical and later periods. This assumption is based firstly on the observable continuity of the mysteries: for example the antiquity of the Eleusinian ritual described by Plutarch, which will form an important part of my argument, is attested by Aristophanes and Plato. And it is based secondly on general considerations: conservatism is of the essence of those rituals in which a community such as a thiasos perpetuates itself by the transmission of a ritual treasured as originally taught by their god. The second assumption is to suppose, on the basis of numerous observable similarities, an essential similarity between the Dionysiac mysteries and the Eleusinian, about which we are well informed even for the classical period. (shrink)

In Euripides'BacchaeDionysos visits Thebes in disguise to establish his mysteries there. And so, given normal Euripidean practice, it is almost certain that in the lost part of his final speech Dionysos actually prescribed the establishment of his mysteries in Thebes. In the same way theHomeric Hymn to Demetertells how the goddess came in disguise to Eleusis and finally (vv. 476–82) established her mysteries there. After coming to Eleusis she performs certain actions in the house of king Celeus, for example the (...) drinking of theκυκεών, which have long been recognized as corresponding to ritual undergone by the initiands in the Eleusinian mysteries. It is the main thesis of this paper that just as elements of theHomeric Hymn to Demeterseem to derive from aἱερ⋯ς λ⋯γοςof the Eleusinian mysteries, so certain elements of theBacchaederive from aἱερ⋯ς λ⋯γοςof the mysteries of Dionysos, and that furthermore Euripides consciously alludes to the Dionysiac mysteries for a dramatic effect dependent on the religiosity of his audience, rather as Aeschylus alludes in theOresteia, on the principleμαθο⋯σιν αὑδ⋯, to the mysteries of Eleusis.This case will suffer from two drawbacks. Firstly there is the general scepticism about ritual patterns in drama arising as a reaction to the excesses of, for example, Murray and Cornford. This means that a far greater degree of probability seems to be required from suggestions of this kind than from the more traditional mode of speculation of, say, textual criticism. And secondly, it must be immediately and frankly admitted both that we do not know much about the mysteries of Dionysos and that most of what we do know is from the Hellenistic and Roman period. In the argument that follows recourse will sometimes be had to two assumptions. The first is to suppose a degree of continuity between the Dionysiac mysteries of the classical and later periods. This assumption is based firstly on the observable continuity of the mysteries: for example the antiquity of the Eleusinian ritual described by Plutarch, which will form an important part of my argument, is attested by Aristophanes and Plato. And it is based secondly on general considerations: conservatism is of the essence of those rituals in which a community such as athiasosperpetuates itself by the transmission of a ritual treasured as originally taught by their god. The second assumption is to suppose, on the basis of numerous observable similarities, an essential similarity between the Dionysiac mysteries and the Eleusinian, about which we are well informed even for the classical period. (shrink)

This article explores the significance of the following fact: in neither the Iliad nor the Odyssey does one find a simile about Zeus. I argue that just as ancient Near Eastern texts characterize a god by declaring it impossible to fashion a comparison about him or her, so the Homeric epics characterize Zeus by avoiding statements in the shape “Zeus (is) like X.”.

The people of classical Athens did not regard suicide as a crime committed by the victim. Instead, the Athenians regarded suicide as a crime committed by the instrument that the victim used, or by the victim's hand as opposed to the victim himself. This non-human agent was culpable, just like non-human agents were blamed for accidental deaths. Although suicide victims were innocent, inanimate agents were guilty. In Sophocles'Ajax, for example, the sword that the hero turned upon himself was blamed for (...) his death. The Athenian response to suicide was more about objects than it was about people. (shrink)

This paper discusses the background in reality of the Heroikos (Dialogue concerning Heroes), which is ascribed to Philostratus of Athens, and is mainly devoted to the hero Protesilaos. After a summary of the work, the paper considers it from four aspects. The time of writing falls after 217 (the second victory at Olympia of the athlete Helix of Phoenicia); there may be a reference to events in Thessaly under the emperor Alexander Severus (222-235). If the author is the well-known Philostratus, (...) then such a date also implies a dramatic date in the author¿s own time. This is corroborated by two series of references which appear to run from the comparatively recent past to the present. One of these concerns bones of heroes, while the other concerns athletes to whom the hero Protesilaos had given advice in the form of oracles. The geographical setting of the dialogue is Elaious in the Thracian Chersonese. The evidence for the cult of Protesilaos on the territory of Elaious comes from literature, notably Herodotus, from coins of the time of Commodus, and from modern observations, notably a vivid account given by Heinrich Schliemann. While Philostratus¿ description of the cult-place at Elaious appears very accurate, his account of the Island of Achilles in the Pontus is less so. Finally, the paper considers the Heroikos in the context of contemporary belief about heroes and their powers. Another work probably by the same author, the Life of Apollonius of Tyana, is adduced to assess the credulity of readers in Philostratus¿ time and later. Documents and literature of the imperial period show that even dead contemporaries could be regarded as heroes, who were still influential even from beyond the grave. The references to Protesilaos in literature (Pausanias, Lucian) strongly suggest that he was regarded as issuing oracles in the form of dreams, and this too accords with beliefs about heroes both in the Hellenistic period and in the Roman. (shrink)

The subject of this paper is a striking and unavoidable feature of theAlexandra: Lykophron's habit of referring to single gods not by their usual names, but by multiple lists of epithets piled up in asyndeton. This phenomenon first occurs early in the 1474-line poem, and this occurrence will serve as an illustration. At 152–3, Demeter has five descriptors in a row: Ἐνναία ποτὲ | Ἕρκυνν' Ἐρινὺς Θουρία Ξιφηφόρος, ‘Ennaian … Herkynna, Erinys, Thouria, Sword-bearing’. In the footnote I give the probable (...) explanations of these epithets. Although in this sample the explanations to most of the epithets are not to be found in inscriptions, my main aim in what follows will be to emphasize the relevance of epigraphy to the unravelling of some of the famous obscurity of Lykophron. In this paper, I ask why the poet accumulates divine epithets in this special way. I also ask whether the information provided by the ancient scholiasts, about the local origin of the epithets, is of good quality and of value to the historian of religion. This will mean checking some of that information against the evidence of inscriptions, beginning with Linear B. It will be argued that it stands up very well to such a check. TheAlexandrahas enjoyed remarkable recent vogue, but this attention has come mainly from the literary side. Historians, in particular historians of religion, and students of myths relating to colonial identity, have been much less ready to exploit the intricate detail of the poem, although it has so much to offer in these respects. The present article is, then, intended primarily as a contribution to the elucidation of a difficult literary text, and to the history of ancient Greek religion. Despite the article's main title, there will, as the subtitle is intended to make clear, be no attempt to gather and assess all the many passages in Lykophron to which inscriptions are relevant. There will, for example, be no discussion of 1141–74 and the early Hellenistic ‘Lokrian Maidens inscription’ (IG9.12706); or of the light thrown on 599 by the inscribed potsherds carrying dedications to Diomedes, recently found on the tiny island of Palagruza in the Adriatic, and beginning as early as the fifth centuryb.c.(SEG48.692bis–694); or of 733–4 and their relation to the fifth-centuryb.c.Athenian decree (n. 127) mentioning Diotimos, the general who founded a torch race at Naples, according to Lykophron; or of 570–85 and the epigraphically attested Archegesion or cult building of Anios on Delos, which shows that this strange founder king with three magical daughters was a figure of historical cult as well as of myth. (shrink)

Scholars have traditionally interpreted Hipponax fragment 128 as an epic parody designed to belittle the grand pretensions and gluttonous habits of his enemy. I suggest, however, that this traditional reading ultimately falls short because of two unexamined assumptions: that the meter and diction of the fragment are exclusively meant to recall epic narrative and not any other early hexametrical genre, and that the descriptive epithets in lines 2 and 3 are the ad hoc comic creations of the poet and simply (...) refer to the table manners of a glutton or a parasite. I argue instead that this fragment in several ways reflects the language, the meter and the performative goal of hexametrical chants or incantations designed to expel harmful famine demons or to escort human scapegoats from the city. I also suggest that the vivid and somewhat comic descriptions of the enemy in fragment 128 probably do not aim at his personal eating disorders, but rather they are drawn from two interrelated and generic features of archaic Greek thought: a tradition of describing famine-demons as insatiable eaters, and a popular theme in Greek invective which demonizes political enemies as rapacious pests who threaten to gobble up the commonwealth of the city and who therefore must be expelled from the community, precisely like a famine-demon. (shrink)

What merit should we find in Heliodoros' novel? Towards its end Hydaspes, agonizing over whether to save Charikleia from human sacrifice, sees before him an internal audience stirred by πθη equal to his and ‘weeping through pleasure and pity at Fortune's stage-management’. This is a popular audience, a demos, evincing a popular reaction, but one which Heliodoros anticipated and doubtless welcomed. Their reaction is characterized by simple, direct emotions and some limited awareness of the larger processes that have been going (...) on in this novel. For them this is a world of τχη and amazement. Does the novel invite any deeper critical reaction than this? (shrink)

The identity of the Caesar at "Aeneid", 1.286 is a long-standing problem. The prevailing opinion since Heyne favors Augustus, but a few scholars agree with Servius that the Dictator is meant. In recent years the suggestion that Vergil was being deliberately ambiguous has been advanced as a solution to the problem. I argue the case for Julius Caesar anew. The paper is in five sections. The first four deal respectively with the question of nomenclature; chronology; the descriptive epithets applied to (...) Caesar, especially spoliis Orientis onustum in 289; and the rhetoric of the passage. The fourth section confronts the challenge posed to my reading by the well-known view of Ronald Syme, held to throughout his lifetime, that Julius Caesar was a virtual non-person in the Rome of Vergil's day because the princeps tried to avoid awkward comparison with the Dictator. But this view has been challenged, and I draw on recent work in this area. In the fifth and final section I support my reading with references to Vergil's earlier poetry, attending especially to what it can tell us about Vergil's attitude toward Julius Caesar. Of particular relevance is the use he makes of the sidus Iulium, an image found in the Eclogues and important in connection with the apocalyptic outlook abroad at the time of Caesar's assassination. This section of the paper expands on Servius' generally neglected note, which maintains that the Caesar in question is Julius. (shrink)

Euthymos was a real person, an Olympic victor from Locri Epizephyrii in the first half of the fifth century bc. Various sources attribute to him extraordinary achievements: he received cult in his own lifetime; he fought with and overcame the ¿Hero of Temesa¿, a daimon who in ritual deflowered a virgin in the Italian city of Temesa every year; and he vanished into a local river instead of dying (extant iconography from Locri shows him as a river god receiving cult (...) a century after his death). By taking an integrative approach to Euthymos¿ legend and cult iconography, this article proposes a new interpretation of the complex. It is argued that Euthymos received cult already in his lifetime in consequence of his victory over the Hero and that he took over, in a modified form, the Hero¿s cult. Various considerations, including the role of river gods as the recipients of brides¿ virginity in prenuptial rites, point to an identification of the Hero as a river deity. In this light it is suggested that the contest between Euthymos and the Hero was conceived as a deliberate emulation of Herakles¿ fight with Acheloos. The case of Euthymos at Locri, for all its peculiarities, draws our attention to some important aspects of the heroization of historical persons in the Classical period. First, the earliest attested cult of a living person in Greece is to be placed around the middle of the fifth century. Second, heroized persons in the Classical period were not always passive in the process of their heroization, but could actively promote it. And third, a common pattern in the heroization of contemporaries in the Classical period was to accommodate them into existing cults. (shrink)

Un pequeño grupo de vasos apulios de la segunda mitad del siglo IV a.C. representan el descenso de Orfeo a los Infiernos, su llegada ante el palacio de Hades y Perséfone, donde logró con su canto conmover a los dioses infernales. El programa iconográfico de estos vasos, pleno de relatos míticos y de enseñanzas religiosas destinadas a proporcionar consuelo y esperanza de vida más allá de la muerte, nos permite conocer el imaginario del reino subterráneo y a esta figura religiosa (...) que intercede ante los dioses del inframundo para obtener de ellos la salvación de los mortales, su ingreso en un allende beatífico y paradisíaco. (shrink)

Los juegos funerales en honor de Patroclo presentan como componente estructural el catálogo de los contrincantes en tres versiones diferentes. El presente trabajo analiza el modo en que este componente estructural revela los aspectos accidentales o inexplicables de la existencia humana desde la perspectiva de la ética homérica The Funeral Games in honor of Patroclus shows the catalogue of contenders as a structural component in three different versions. The present work analyzes the way in which this structural component reveals accidentals (...) or unexplainable aspects of human life from the point of view of Homeric Ethic. (shrink)

Este trabajo se propone estudiar las características de los paralogismos de composición y división (Retórica II 24.II, 1401a), de la consecuencia (Retórica II 24.VI, 1401b20-30) y de la causa aparente (Retórica II 24.VII, 1401b30-34), de modo de analizar si Eurípides los utiliza en el agón de Andrómaca de los versos 577 a 746 This paper intends to study the characteristics of paralogisms due to composition and division (Rhetoric II 24.II, 1401a), due to consequent (Rhetoric II 24.VI, 1401b20-30), and due to (...) false cause (Rhetoric II 24.VII, 1401b30-34), in order to analyze if Euripides uses them in the agon in Andromache (577-746). (shrink)

Este trabajo se propone estudiar las características de los paralogismos de composición y división (Retórica II 24.II, 1401a), de la consecuencia (Retórica II 24.VI, 1401b20-30) y de la causa aparente (Retórica II 24.VII, 1401b30-34), de modo de analizar si Eurípides los utiliza en el agón de Andrómaca de los versos 577 a 746 This paper intends to study the characteristics of paralogisms due to composition and division (Rhetoric II 24.II, 1401a), due to consequent (Rhetoric II 24.VI, 1401b20-30), and due to (...) false cause (Rhetoric II 24.VII, 1401b30-34), in order to analyze if Euripides uses them in the agon in Andromache (577-746). (shrink)