U članku se analizira Petrićeva usporedba Aristotelove podjele na supralunarni i sublunarni svijet s morskim bićem koje Petrić naziva Marinus Glaucus. Tu usporedbu, s bićem koje je dijelom riba, a dijelom kamen, rabi Petrić kako bi eksplicirao neprirodnost, monstruoznost spomenute Aristotelove podjele. Postavlja se pitanje što je ili tko je Marinus Glaucus. U članku se izlaže da Petrićev Marinus Glaucus najvjerojatnije u sebi ujedinjava i svojstva grčko-rimskog morskog polubožanstva koje se zove Glauko i osobine jedne vrste otrovnih (...) riba koje se u nekim europskim jezicima zovu kamene ribe, a svojstvena im je mimikrija, prilagodba okolišu u kojem žive, kamenu.Im Aufsatz wird der Petrić´s Vergleich der Aristotelischen Aufteilung in die sublunare und supralunare Welt, mit einem Wesen, das er als Marinus Glaucus bezeichnet, analisiert. Diesen Vergleich mit dem Wesen, das er als halb Fisch, halb Stein bestimmt, unternimmt Petrić um die Widernatürlichkeit, ja Monstruosität der genannten Aristotelischen Aufteilung darzulegen. Es wird die Frage gestellt, was, oder, wer ist Marinus Glaucus. Es wird vermutet, dass Petrić’s Marinus Glaucus zwei verschiedene Beschaffenheiten in sich birgt: die einer griechisch-römischen Halbgottheit namens Glauco und die einer Art giftigen Mittelmeerfische, die in einigen europäischen Sprachen Steinfische heißen und die eine Mimikry auszeichnet, die Fähigkeit sich der Welt in der sie leben, dem steinigen Meerboden, anzugleichen. (shrink)

In the Iliad the symbolic value of gifts as tokens of reciprocity is more important than their material value. This is exemplified in the encounters of Diomedes with Glaucus in book 6 and Achilles with Priam in 24. Glaucus readily agrees to offer a much more valuable gift than Diomedes, and the narratorial suggestion that Zeus took away Glaucus’ wits is not shaped as the report of a fact but captures the views or feelings of observers such (...) as members of the audience. Achilles agrees to release the body of Hector in exchange for gifts. As Glaucus and Diomedes seal their pact and renew the ancestral guest-friendship relationship with the exchange of gifts, so Achilles seals his pact with Priam and his earlier one with the dead Patroclus with the acceptance and promise of gifts respectively. (shrink)

In a 1985 article entitled “The Art of Glaukos,” Diskin Clay suggested that the enigmatic passage at the beginning of the geological myth in Phaedoreferred toRepublic10, where the soul is likened to the sea-creature Glaucus whose true nature, like the soul’s, is obscured by the distortions imposed by underwater life. Starting with a defense of Clay’s ingenious suggestion, my purpose is to compare Phaedoto Glaucus, with its true nature obscured by traditional assumptions about the order in which Plato (...) composed his dialogues, and thus how they should be read. At least part of the reason that Clay’s thesis has not been embraced is because it clashes with the dogma that Phaedocannot refer back to Republic; I want to challenge that dogma. Borrowing from Catherine Zuckert the notion that, since Phaedocomes at the end of Socrates’ story, it can usefully be read as the culmination of the Platonic dialogues, I will show how a “late” Phaedo—i.e., a reading of the dialogue that is open to the possibility that it refers to more than one dialogue generally considered to be later than it with respect to composition—recovers its true nature, presently encrusted with the oysters and seaweed of an outdated developmentalism that has obscured this culminating masterpiece of Plato’s dramatic and philosophical art. (shrink)

Plato's closing reference to the Iliad in the Sophist has been largely overlooked in contemporary scholarship. The reference, a quotation from the confrontation between Glaucus and Diomedes in Book 6, forms part of a broader frame to the dialogue. The frame, with its recurring themes of identification and misidentification, helps us make better sense of the dialogue's final description of the sophist and its central concerns about the relationship between philosophy and sophistry. It also provides a revealing case study (...) of Plato's use of Homer as part of a broader strategy for undermining simple appeals to authority. (shrink)

According to Glaucus of Rhegium Democritus was “a disciple of a Pythagorean” (dk 68 A1, 38). The tetralogical catalog of his works prepared by Thrasylus begins its section on ethics with the three following works: Pythagoras; On the Disposition of the Wise Man; On the Things in Hades (dk 68 B0a–c). The very order of the first three ethical works of Democritus could point to some sort of dependence on Pythagoreanism. This was suggested earlier by Frank (1923: 67), who (...) believes that this is due to the fact that Democritus saw Pythagoras as basically the founder of an ethic-religious sect. Without being forced to agree with Frank, it is undeniable that there are many similarities between Pythagorean and Democritean ethics. The Democritean sentences that speak about the sense of shame before oneself as a way of preventing evil deeds (dk 68 B84, 244, and 264) recalls the practice of anamnesis, the examination of conscience in the Pythagorean tradition. Even more important are the parallel uses of measure as a basis for ethical reasoning. This paper aims to review this connection between Pythagorean traditions and Democritus, examining what emerges as the most probable core issue to determine how close this relation between atomists and Pythagoreans could have been: the Aristotelian testimony (de An. 1.2 404a16-20 [dk 58 B40]) on the material conception of the Pythagorean soul. In fact, a corpuscular conception of the soul (“dust in the air”), foreshadowing the psychology of Democritus, is attributed to the Pythagoreans. Is the argument of de An. 1.2 404a16-20 a misunderstanding by Aristotle? Or does this testimony represent an actual dialogue that Pythagoreans were having with atomists in the fifth century bce? (shrink)

Philosophical reflection on the conditions of knowledge did not begin in a cultural vacuum. Several centuries before the Ionian thinkers began their investigations, the Homeric bards had identified various factors that militate against a secure grasp of the truth. In the words of the ‘second invocation of the Muses’ in Iliad II: “you, goddesses, are present and know all things, whereas we mortals hear only a rumor and know nothing.” Similarly Archilochus: “Of such a sort, Glaucus, son of Leptines, (...) is the mind of mortal man, whatever Zeus may bring him for the day, for he thinks such things as he meets with.” When one adds the truism that the scope of human experience pales in comparison with the synoptic view of events enjoyed by the gods, it follows that for most matters it is for the gods to know and mortals merely to conjecture. Traces of the older ‘poetic pessimism’ can be seen in the teachings of many of the first philosophers. Alcmaeon reaffirms that “while the gods enjoy clear and certain knowledge of all things, mortals must conjecture from signs” (B 1). Although Xenophanes encourages inquiry into a wide range of phenomena, he concludes that “No man has known nor will there be anyone who knows the clear and sure truth concerning the gods and what I say about all things” (B 34). And when philosophers begin to affirm a more optimistic view they often do so in terms that invite comparison with the older outlook. The chief truth Heraclitus claims to have discovered is the logos or ‘basic formula’ which holds everywhere and forever (B 1, 30, 80, and 90). Parmenides provides reason to think that human beings can discover the truth even about things located “far off” (B 4). And both Empedocles and Democritus contrast the inferior awareness of those “who think in terms of what they have met with” with the wisdom available to those who have heard and ponder their teachings (B 131). For these thinkers, separation in space and time—the old ‘locality problem’—no longer posed an impediment to knowledge. -/- . (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Two Sonnets DANIEL GALEF Glaucus to Anthedon Such solid, stolid soil. What fun is that? What farmer ever tilled his earth to find the fieldstones leaping up at him, as at Orpheus as he sang his chanties? Mind your patch of tidy rows. I shall not bind myself to any but the Boundless Sea. A ship’s prow is the only plow for me, who neither sows nor reaps—the (...) only kind of plow that leaves no furrow. Not a mark can mar the living ocean. In her breast slip albacore and marlin, skate and shark, a marvelous bounty greater than the best terrestrial treasures. Let Pluton’s cold gems lurk; I won’t go back to scratching in his dirt. arion 28.1 spring/summer 2020 54 two sonnets Tiberius to a Slave (after Suetonius, De Vita Caesarum, III.70) What is the song the sirens used to sing? To whom did bold Prometheus give his fire? What river may I sail to reach the ring Of flaming water girding Gaia’s pyre? What pet names did the fair Achilles earn From his Achaean maidens who would stroke His naked heel? Do dryads’ lithe limbs burn? How does a god sustain Himself on smoke? How long can you, Piscicule, hold your breath Beneath these wine-bright waters of Capri? How many bubbles billow before death Is dealt? And who was Hecuba’s mother? These scholarly pursuits fascinate me— I will find their answers, one way or another.... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:For the Love of Nothing:Auden, Keats, and DeconstructionJo-Anne Cappeluti"Authors can be stupid enough, God knows, but they are not quite so stupid as a certain kind of critic seems to think. The kind of critic, I mean, to whom, when he condemns a work or a passage, the possibility never occurs that its author may have foreseen exactly what he is going to say"—W. H. AudenIDeconstruction by definition is (...) an exercise of the intellect's predilection to disprove and deny aesthetic experience. Deconstruction is in love with denying this "nothing," but is seemingly unaware of how attempting demystification entangles the intellect all the more with the imagination. And it is the imagination that creates aesthetic experience, the very entity critics deny even exists. This dynamic is especially true of deconstruction looking at the Romantic mode of poetry: the poetry of poets who serve as their own subject. Analyzing the internalized quests of these poets, deconstruction offers a drama of itself too much in love with demystifying aesthetic experience, attempting and always failing, intellectually, to reduce it to nothing.Poets who write in the Romantic mode of poetry are in love with this "nothing"; they present internalized quests filled with their acute awareness of the aesthetic—and highly indeterminate—nature of being human. At the core of this indeterminacy is the ongoing debate between imagination and intellect, the first interested in exploring what is there, in human consciousness, the second prone to demystifying it. Poets who write in this mode learn that such improvable yet actual aesthetic experience or "nothing" is germane to being human. Any attempt [End Page 345] to escape it intellectually will only lead back to the imagination that presents it.Poets who write in the Romantic mode of poetry are so familiar with the way in which this aesthetic nature of human existence involves the unresolved conflict between imagination and intellect that these poets present in their poetry a response to the criticism that denies it. John Keats and W. H. Auden are two poets who show this dynamic and who, not by coincidence, have a lot in common. Deconstruction, however, sees Auden and Keats—however separately—as poets who wake up at mid-career to the fallaciousness of the imagination and subsequently turn their talent to making nothing happen in their poetry: undermining its aesthetic nature. Keats's Endymion and Auden's "Caliban to the Audience" are frequently cited as prime examples of this demystification process. As I will argue, however, both of these poems deliberately dramatize the self-thwarting attempts of the intellect to dissect and dismiss what it claims is nothing.1Keats dramatizes this dynamic in Endymion, drawing attention to the way in which this "Brain-sick shepherd prince" claims—actually over-protests—to have loved "nothing" after his miraculous experience beneath the ocean with the strangely indeterminate creature, Glaucus (pp. 134, 206).2 Auden offers as well a detailed description of this dynamic in "Caliban to the Audience," the last section of The Sea and The Mirror, A Commentary on Shakespeare's The Tempest. In this poem, the strangely indeterminate, begged question of existence, Caliban, reveals in great detail his audience's futile attempt to demystify what upsets them.My argument concludes with a discussion of the way in which these poems dramatize deconstruction's unintentional witness to the "real Word" of the imagination (CP, p. 444).3As poets who write in the Romantic mode, exploring what is there in their consciousness, Keats and Auden find a great indeterminacy inherent in their human nature: an unresolved problem that they explore—rather than try to solve. Auden, in fact, links himself to Keats, finding in Keats's idea of the chameleon poet his (Auden's) central idea of the poet as actor for the imagination. Like Keats, Auden takes the imagination quite seriously and fuses Keats's sense of the imagination with Coleridge's: observing that poetry records the poet's experiences in which the (Primary) imagination is drawn to certain "sacred" beings and events. In "Making, Knowing and Judging," Auden declares that the "impression made upon the imagination by any sacred being is of... (shrink)

The myths of three famous Glauci - (1) Glaucus of Anthedon, (2) Glaucus of Potniae, and (3) Glaucus the son of Minos - whose story patterns mirror one another in some remarkable details have long suggested a common origin as the likely solution to their points of coincidence. In particular, scholars have focused on such similarities as the presence of a magic plant, death/initiation, and acquisition of prophetic powers. However, the elements common to each of these myths (...) are not functional equivalents and, perhaps more importantly, there is no evidence to suggest that the three Glauci were conflated in antiquity. The attempts by modern scholars to reconcile the thematic similarities as conflations of a single source myth are conjectural and depend upon misinterpretations of the ancient evidence. On the other hand, an analysis of the contexts in which the myths of each of the Glauci appear in ancient literature conclusively demonstrates the independent conception and purpose of each of the myths. (shrink)

From the care Plato takes in describing the excellence of the doctor in book 3 to the characterization of various pathological elements in the regimes he describes in book 8, the Republic teems with references to medical terms and concepts. The following investigates the breadth of the influence of medicine on the Republic. I argue that a medical vocabulary proves indispensable to indicating the relationship between philosophy and politics that the Republic envisages. In order to do so, this paper examines (...) the confluence of medicine and metaphysics revealed by a comparison between the discussion of the divided line and ancient characterizations of diagnosis. I then conclude with a reading of the Glaucus image in book 10 that emphasizes its self-diagnostic character. (shrink)