Hercules in Ovid’s Metamorphoses

March 27th, 2008

Myria Denniston

27 March 2008

English 685

Dr. Kent-Drury

Hercules in Metamorphoses

Through out the study of Greek and Roman literature, we have become captivated by the heroes of the age.  Achilles, the warrior; Odysseus, the Cunning; Hector, the Prince; Orestes, the avenger, and even Aeneas, the conqueror.  They all have conformities of what we have become to know as the epic hero.  Within Ovid’s Metamorphoses there are heroes we have encountered through our study of literature.  One in particular that I wanted to study further was Hercules.

Hercules is found within book IX.  He is suggested to be the most celebrated of all Greek heroes.  He is famous for his extraordinary strength and courage.  Being a forbidden son of Zeus (Jupiter) and Alcmene, he incurs the everlasting wrath of Hera (Juno) because of being the child of her unfaithful husband.  His paternity is confronted by Achelous here in book IX:

      “And as for that paternity you boast of, great Hercules, why, you must take your

       choice: either it’s false that Jupiter’s your father, or else it’s true that you’re a

       bastard born; you seek a father in your mother’s sin!  Which will you have then,

       son of Alcmena, a fictive parent or a shameful birth?” (9: 35-42).

At which point Hercules gets indignant and proceeds to attack him.  It is no secret that most epic heroes were of superhuman strength, which they possessed from a godly parent, and have strong connections to their family and nation.

Although worshipped as a god, Hercules was properly a hero, frequently appealed to for protection from various evils.  Once such evil is the betrayal of the centaur, Nessus.  Nessus persuades Hercules to allow him to give passage to his new bride, Deianaria, but Nessus tries to violate her before crossing the river as noted in this passage:

       “He recognized his wife’s voice, and he shouted to the centaur, who was preparing 

        to violate his trust: To what unhappy end will that misplaced self-confidence of 

        yours betray you, double-dealing Nessus!  Listen, don’t interfere with what is mine

       if not for the respect you ought to show me, then for the memory of Ixion, your 

       father, who lies bound upon a wheel for all eternity — the price he paid for his

       attempting a forbidden rape.” (9: 173-184)

Hercules then assaults the centaur with his arrow, which was mixed with the Hydra’s poison, flowing into the back of Nessus, killing him.

Similarities arise between some of our epic heroes like Hercules, Aeneas, and Odysseus.  Just like these heroes, Hera (Juno) places burdens upon Odysseus, she applies labors to Hercules.  Some scholars confirm twelve labors forced upon him while others refute and say there were only ten.  It doesn’t matter the number of labors our hero has to overcome, what matters is that he was able to succeed upon his life’s journey just as the Oracle had foretold.

In these times, many heroes were blessed to die and forever become immortal within the heavens.  Hercules was one of these.  Zeus (Jupiter) was proud of his son for succeeding and dying a noble death therefore, he made him immortal.  But being half mortal committed him to the underworld, to spend eternity in the Elysian Fields with other great heroes of his time.   

Works Cited

Ovid. Metamorphoses. Trans. Charles Martin. New York. Norton. 2004

Heiden, Bruce. Laudes Herculeae: Suppressed Savagery in the Hymn to Hercules. The American Journal of Philology, Vol. 108, No.4. (Winter, 1987), pp. 661-671.

The Hero in Metamorphoses

March 27th, 2008

            Ovid’s Metamorphoses is different than the epics written before it.  Ovid’s epic is a collection of diverse stories connected only by theme, not by one specific hero.   However, Ovid cleverly introduces glimpse of heroism throughout the second half of the epic.  By skillfully interweaving heroism throughout the epic, Ovid makes the hero character stand out amongst the chaos of the Metamorphoses

“A Greek hero is one who is endowed with great courage and strength, celebrated for his bold exploits, and is favored by the gods.  He is noted for his feats of courage or nobility of purpose, especially if he has risked or sacrificed his life in battle” (Rollins 82).  There is one character that is the hero, even if it briefly, in the second half of the epic.  This male embodies all of the characteristics of the hero. 

            In Book IX, the hero character is revealed.  Hercules is the hero and he is in love with Deianira.   He demonstrates strength, courage, and nobleness as he protects Deianira from Achelous and then protects her again from Nessus’ rape:

            Yes—I mean you, double –dealing Nessus!

            Listen, don’t interfere with what is mine—

            if not for the respect you ought to show me,

            then for the memory of Ixion,

            your father, who lies bound upon a wheel

            for all eternity—the price he paid

            for his attempting a forbidden rape.

            It won’t be possible for you to flee,

            however much you count on equine speed:

            my weapon, not my feet, will run you down!  (9:  178-87)

After Hercules saves Deianira she gives him a cloak because she is afraid he is falling out of love with her.  The cloak had been given to Deianira from Nessus before he died.  This was a ruse by Nessus as the cloak was poisoned.  In turn, the cloak causes Hercules’ death.  Hercules suffers an extremely painful, agonizing death, which demonstrates (again) his heroic courage and strength, the strength only a hero would be able to muster:

            He first tried to remove the fatal tunic,

            but when he tore it off, his skin came too,

            for (sickening to speak of) it would cling

            fiercely to his limbs; removed by force

            it bared his muscles and enormous bones.

                 His blood (as when a heated iron bar

            is plunged into the blacksmith’s icy trough)

            boiled up and hissed with fiery hot venom;

            with nothing to restrain them, the greddy flames

            fed upon his heart; dark sweat drenched his body,

            and his scorched nerves unnervingly sang out,

            while deep within his bones the marrow melted; (9:  249-60)

Due to his eminence bravery and his painful death, Jupiter decides that Hercules should be made into a god.  This gesture shows the ultimate favoritism the gods held for Hercules, this “gift” is one of the highest of privileges:

            And as a serpent who has shed his skin

            sheds old age too, rejoicing in new life,

            and glitters with new scales; so Hercules

            when he had cast off his mortality,

            became more vigorous in his better part,

            and he began to seem much more impressive,

            more worshipful in his augmented size.

                 Almighty Jupiter bore him aloft

            and (in his chariot) through hollow clouds

            up to his place among the radiant stars (9:  392-401).

Overall, Ovid cleverly places heroism throughout the epic.  In Book IX, Hercules clearly stands out as the hero, if not the most heroic male in the entire half of Metamorphoses.  Hercules upheld all of the Greek heroic characteristics and did so honorably.  Ovid instilled all of the moral fibers that a hero should possess and through Hercules’ character juxtaposed him against the anarchy of the Metamorphoses.

 

Works Cited

 

Rollins, Henry.  Eye Scream.  Los Angeles:  2-13-61, 1996.

           

   

             

Ovid’s Metamorphoses

March 27th, 2008

Carrie L. Taylor
Dr. Kent-Drury
English 685
27 March 2008

Ovid’s Metamorphosis

When people think of nature in today’s society we tend to think of plants, animals and other organic or living organisms that are derived from the physical earth. The Roman and Greek philosophers, and naturalists also developed theories relating to nature. In Ovid’s Metamorphoses, many symbolic references to spiritual and mythological elements are interconnected to nature and earth.

Nature, by definition is defined several ways. The first meaning identifies this as “the universe with all its phenomena” and the second is classified as “a combination of qualities belonging to a person, animal, thing, or class by birth, origin or constitution” (Brittanica). By examining the natural history of ancient Greece, we may receive a glimpse of how philosophers and naturalists had interpreted plant and animal life in the terrestrial and aquatic landscapes of Greece.

From the fifth century B.C., Greek philosophers began to place more emphasis on why natural phenomena occurred and desired more of an understanding or knowledge (epistemology) of how natural processes took place. Prior to this period, gods and mythology played such a significant role in the interpretation of daily processes. Even though philosophers and naturalists did not use scientific terms, they were attempting to identify and understand nature’s physical biology and why this was important in the world of humans.

The Roman Greco civilization perceived earth, air, animals, people and other physical components as elements of nature. Reference is often made to nature as a noun either as a person or spiritual entity.

Before the seas and lands had been created, before the sky that covers
everything, Nature displayed a single aspect only throughout the cosmos; Chaos was its name, ta shapeless, unwrought mass of inert bulk and nothing more, with the discordant seeds of disconnected elements all heaped together in anarchic disarray. (15: 1-13)

This entity of nature was worshipped by individuals and considered powerful. It was often synonymous with spiritual laws relating to how people and other physical organisms, as well as gods, should act and interpret the world. Heracleitus, a philosopher in the sixth century B.C. thought “the world should be understood as a whole, with sense and order; we should see it in a vast and impersonal wisdom, a Logos or Reason; and we should try to mold our lives into accord with this way of Nature (Science147).

Mythological gods were honored and revered; this veneration was apparent through literary portrayals of their relationships with humans and with nature. The earth was thought to be the home of the gods, not heaven. “The earth itself was the goddess Ge or Gaea, patient and bountiful mother. A thousand lesser deities dwelt on the earth, in its waters, or in its surrounding air: spirits of sacred trees, especially the oak” (Greece 177). In this respect, earth encompassed all of the physical space that was acknowledged by Greek civilization.

Ovid’s War with the Giants reveals the location of earth as beneath air and aether. It is defined as a separate entity when ‘Nature’ divides air from the ocean and earth but also identifies a river flowing beneath the earth. The earth represents fertility in The second Creation.

The earth spontaneously generated the varied forms of other animals after the standing water had been warmed by the sun’s rays; for then the sodden marshes swelled up with heat, and fecund seeds of life grew in that soil as in a mother’s womb and from its richness took distinctive forms.

‘Mother Earth’ brings life from the soil as a seed would. The earth is identified as a symbol for life, spawning living forms; men, monsters and countless other species.

Growing political stability of the Greek world caused the more savage rites and myths to fade; the chaos of a demon-haunted earth yielded to a semi orderly divine government (Science, 181). This did not mean that mythology was eliminated from their culture; deities still existed but more emphasis was placed on theories that were logical and more value was put on acquiring physical evidence to support these theories.

Ovid uses poetry as a creative tool to express organic transformations. “Poetry comes up out of nature and is the first natural speech; nature is seen as language and myth” (Orphic Voice, 183). Much of science, the studies of flora and fauna began as nature in poetry.

During the last century B.C. and the first century A.D, Roman philosophers established a paradigm for scholars to learn; schools gave mostly aristocrats, the ability to become educated in various subjects. Logic and rhetoric were important in the law courts and the political arena. And Epicurean and Stoic philosophy addressed pressing ethical and religious concerns. But science or natural philosophy beyond the basics was rarely valued except as an amusement (Science 93). The contemporary philosophers gradually changed this pattern by introducing more analytical studies relating to plants, animals, geography and cosmology, just to name a few of what we call biological studies.

Pliny the Elder was a Roman philosopher in the first century A.D., early medieval Greece, who investigated the breadth of natural history. In his writing, he provides endless accounts of studies relating to how physical forms are diverse in structures and how these react to stimulus; he offers in depth rationalizations for various studies in nature. He philosophically dissected natural phenomena attempting to identify and catalogue physical forms and factual information in an encyclopedic fashion. In The Natural History Pliny describes the celestial and terrestrial spheres and the circles used to map them.

Our first attention is justly due to Man, for whose sake all other things appear to have been produced by Nature. It is madness to harass the mind, as some have done, with attempts to measure the world, and to publish these attempts; or, like others, to argue from what they have made out, that there are innumerable other worlds, and that we must believe there to be so many other natures, or that, if only one nature produced the whole, there will be so many suns and so many moons, and that each of them will have immense trains of other heavenly bodies. (Pliny)

He interestingly offers descriptive representations of a holistic view of nature; that nature is responsible for living organisms and each species has a nature or set of standards that should be followed.

This set of standards, either physical or philosophical, can be attributed to humans and animals. As Myrrh, the daughter of Cinyras, attempts to seduce her father, this is labeled as a negative action against nature. “Filled with the seed of her father, she left his bedchamber, having already conceived, in a crime against nature. Nature is being referenced as having rules and these rules, Nature’s law has been broken by Myrrh” (354: 430-438.

Through poetry, nature and mythology fused; this has transcended throughout history in various time periods and cultures. Greco-Roman philosophers and writers have used nature for symbolic references to enhance fictional and non-fictional literary work. Many theories and doctrines existed to explain the existence of natural phenomena; nature is applied to literature figuratively and in its physical form. Since the Greek culture was closely linked to nature as a spiritual and mythological force, this impacted the literary history in early Medieval Greece and their contemporary philosophers.

Book Review: Female Acts In Greek Tragedy

March 24th, 2008

Jennifer Ethridge

ENG 685

Dr. Kent-Drury

3/23/08

 

Helene P. Foley’s Female Acts In Greek Tragedy

     This book, as the title suggests, is written about women in Greek epics.  She describes many of the different roles of women in lamentation, marriage, being wives and mothers.  She uses many examples and explanations of these situations in her book.

     She begins with giving the historical details of these events, their meanings and how they were used in Greek tragedies.  She uses examples about lamentation of Electra and her foreign slave women using it to convince Orestes to seek revenge against his father, Agamemnon’s death. 

     She goes into great detail regarding the marriage rituals.  She explains dowrys, inheritances, divorces, heiresses, adultry.  She links history to Cassandra and how she treated her relaionship with Agamemnon as a “marriage” and how Clytemnestra becomes a horrible adulteress.

     Female roles such as virgins, wives, and mothers are described as “complex interrelation between female moral cpacity and female social role that conditions, and is articulated in, such choices”.  The differences between sacrificial men and women are compared.  Both sacrifices are for patriotism.  Menoeceus has to deceive his father in order to kill himself so  not be labeled a coward whereas, Iphigeneia’s only choice is to be sacrificed willingly or unwillingly.  Her father is the one convincing her. 

     The author gives many details of women in Greek tragedy.  She clearly states what she believes their motives and thinking is about the situations they are placed in.  She links their decisions with what was going on in history at the time the epics were written.  She compares how females and males are treated differently in the same situation.  There is also the subject of how women who commit similar acts but for various reasons and get different reactions.

     This book is very insightful.  The author provides many insights into various epics and the role and actions of women.  She helps identify how women were expected to deal with and handle certain roles and functions.  She connects the political, social, and intellectual actions of women in Greek tragedies to actual Greek history.  She explains how they are connected and how women could overcome their limitations.

 

Works Cited

Foley, Helen P. Female Acts in Greek Tragedy. Princeton University Press, New Jersey: 2001.

Book Review: John Dunn’s Democracy: A History

March 23rd, 2008

Jessica J. Rouse

 

ENG 685

Dr. Kent-Drury

March 23, 2008

            Book Review: Democracy: A History by John Dunn

To a modern American citizen the word democracy may be easy to define. However, democracy has not meant the same thing to every culture and has taken many forms before becoming the political phenomenon it is today. Democracy: A History by John Dunn tells the story of democracy from its early beginning in Athens, Greece, its fall and then its return in the late eighteenth century to democracy in its current form. The book details the way democratic governments worked, how they were perceived by scholars and commoners and examines the word and the theory of democracy.

John Dunn is a fellow of King’s College and a professor of political theory at Cambridge University. His tone when writing Democracy: A History is informative and formal. Dunn’s scholarly word choice and complex sentences proves the intended audience for the work is college-educated or erudite individuals interested in the evolution of Democracy. Through this four-chapter book, Dunn sets out to inform people on the roll of democracy, how it came about and why it has survived.

            The book begins with a preface that examines the word democracy and its importance in the world. The first chapter sets the scene of Athens for the reader to better understand what democracy was in its early stages: a form of government where every citizen (Athenian-born men) had an equal vote on issues and majority ruled. The second chapter details democracy’s coming back to political life in the late eighteenth century after dropping off for awhile. Democracy came back as a result of two problems, Dunn writes; one with thirteen British colonies in North America that chose to revolt, and the other with a domestic revolution in France. The third chapter details the revolution in France and the state of America democracy’s role in them, and the last chapter is an overview discussing the perception of democracy and its success or downfall as a political theory.     

            Dunn uses well-known people in his book to demonstrate to the reader people’s differing attitudes toward Democracy. Plato, for example, strongly opposed the idea of democracy; whereas his student Aristotle was an opposer but “less carried away by his feelings” and more open to the idea. Aristotle felt that democracy did not favor the community as a whole but just the poor. Pericles praised democracy for the respect for law it created, military and economic superiority it caused and amount of respect for wisdom and pride in its own energy and generosity it created. Dunn also talks about how, before democracy, Solon, an Athenian nobleman, reorganized the land ownership and put in reforms that revised property levels to change which Athenians could hold public office, modified law courts to improve access for the poor and abolished debt people owed to the government. Dunn also talks about people who meant a lot to democracy later in time, like America’s James Madison and his in-depth view of what America’s government would be- a democratic republic.

            Dunn gives a lot of thought in the book to the word democracy itself. He talks about the interesting origin of the word in the preface.

            “What is very strange indeed (in fact, quite bizarre) is the fact that this single term,  endlessly transliterated or translated across all modern languages, should turn out to be the ancient Greek noun demokratia, which originally meant not a basis for legitimacy or a regime defined by its good intentions or its noble mission, but simply one particular form of government, and that a form, for almost two thousand years of its history as a word, which, it was overwhelmingly judged by most who used the term, had proved grossly illegitimate in theory and every bit as disastrous in practice” (Dunn 15).

             Democracy: A History was educational and interesting to read. Dunn did an excellent job to point out problems with democracy and benefits of it without writing the book in support of it or against it. Dunn’s lack of organization in the book is its downfall, as he inserts information and makes statements about democracy as a whole throughout the book and in the middle of an in-depth discussion on an aspect of the broad topic.

The topic for the book was well-researched, and Democracy: A History serves as a thorough record of the origins and evolution of the political concept.

 

Dunn, John. Democracy: A History. Atlantic Books. New York: 2005.     

 

Book Review: Figurative Language and Thought

March 23rd, 2008

Julie Cohen

ENG 685

Dr. Roxanne Kent-Drury

Book Review: Figurative language and Thought by Albert N. Katz

            Is one primarily a figurative thinker or consequently a figurative language user? Among many questions in understanding the nature and processing of figurative language traditional approaches have been used in the past to try to understand the important issues in cognitive thought linked to language and thought.  It has been within the past 15 years that the internationally recognized experts in the field of figurative language have challenged and debated the traditional studies in the areas of language and thought conducted by experimental psychologists, linguists, and other cognitive scientists.  Albert Katz, Mark Turner, Raymond W. Gibbs Jr. and Cristina Cacciari are all international experts in the field of figurative language who challenge and debate the previous studies conducted.  In Figurative Language and Thought each of these experts have one chapter each posing fundamental questions about a particular element of figurative language and thought, thus creating thought provoking points to those who are interested in the process of how language is spoken, written, and interpreted.

            Katz gives a review defining all aspects of language and thought. There are many theories that language and thought are functionally different; however, language determines thought.  Language contains many elements and Katz argues that there is no convincing evidence that language determines thought.  The background information presented on language and thought then stems to the central theme discussed in the book by all of the writers which is ,“Is figurative Language Different from ‘Literal’ Language?” Katz gives an overview of this question by informing readers of how one can go from the expressed meaning to the intended meaning when presented with a metaphor and other figures of speech.

            The second section of the book is written by Turner.  Turner gives the history of the classical Greek word schema and gives examples of theories presented by Plato and Aristotle.  Turner’s section is primarily informative of defining figure and explaining how one’s interpretation depends on the grammatical form, analyzing figures, and conceptual/mental connections. Following this, Gibbs presents the fight over metaphor in thought and language.  In the past twenty years it has been argued that the metaphor is not merely a figure of speech but a specific mental mapping that significantly influences how people think, reason, and imagine in everyday life. Cognitive scientists argue this claim stating that people speak the metaphor, but do not necessarily posses that type of thinking. It is argued that not all people think of a metaphor as having multiple meanings and that metaphor is conceptual. 

            Why do we speak metaphorically?  Cacciari reflects on the functions of metaphor in discourse and reasoning.  Interestingly, she presents readers with why and how speakers or writers use the metaphor and the effects that are intended in using metaphor.  The most powerful metaphor appears to be the synesthetic metaphor which crosses all of the senses creating an even more powerful effect for interpretation.  There are many forms and uses of the metaphor and the terminology is extremely technical.  The main idea is that the metaphor is not a single entity but shows itself in many different guises. 

            The authors have definitely achieved their goal in presenting key points of differences and agreements as well as demonstrating the diversity of language and thought.  Many aspects of literal and non-literal language were presented by the writers that create some interesting thoughts for readers.  Since the writers are experts in the field of figurative language and thought who are arguing cognitive scientists, linguists, and philosophers, the terminology is very clinical and technical.  The book is organized well and the writers do an excellent job of presenting their argument for debate as well as present theories and questions to challenge past studies.  The book would not only appeal to someone in the field of cognitive thinking, linguistics, or psychology, but to someone in the field of literature as well.  Not only did the book contain studies, but the background information of how one interprets a metaphor or figurative language was extremely useful in regards to reading ancient literature.  The history behind schema and the theories and ideas of Plato and Aristotle also gives readers more insight to the history of figurative language and thought.

            Overall, the book is somewhat helpful in understanding the ways in which one interprets literal and non-literal language and creates and understands figurative language. As far as the application of this material in the book to understanding ancient literature, it contained more insight of my topic rather than more applicable information. However, if one is interested in gaining more knowledge in understanding the connection of language and thought, it is highly recommended. 

Katz, Albert N.  Figurative Language and Thought. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998.

A Review of Milton and the Idea of the Fall

March 23rd, 2008

C. Ross Hughes

ENG 685

21 March 2008.

The milieu in which John Milton composed Paradise Lost was a tumultuous one, one of religious ferment that seems foreign to our more contemporary secular sensibilities. Seventeenth-century England was host to a plethora of religious ideas and movements, some of which are familiar to us today, and others which were exceedingly odd (even for their time). Indeed, the results of the Anglican Reformation were still as of yet undecided as new sects, such as the Puritans, challenged the power of the established church and its theology. The major crux of their differences revolved around the idea of the Fall of Man, as described in the first chapters of Genesis, what exactly it meant, and to what extent man had truly fallen from that state of grace in Eden.

Today, it may seem a trifle, as Biblical scholarship as well as modern science has swept away the idea of a literal Eden. But to the Reformers, it was a literal reality—one which they did not question. The way one interpreted Adam and his heritage of original sin not only dictated what religious group one belonged to, but also one’s complete worldview. To William Poole, there were five conflicting views:

  1. Man was created conditionally perfect: “Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.”

  2. Man was created as a child; falling is part of the learning process.

  3. Our sinfulness has not only distorted our apprehension, but it has altered the nature of external reality. We have no access to the Universe in its pristine state.

  4. Our sinfulness has done nothing of the sort; even Adam would have benefited from spectacles.

  5. Do not discuss the issue (Poole 196).

The author goes to great lengths to explain each position and how these ideas played out in seventeenth-century religious debate. Paradise Lost, he insists, is inherently a reaction to these different ideas, one which Milton plays with to his own ends.

The first idea, that man was conditionally perfect, holds its lineage back to the works of St. Augustine. To him, God created man perfect, but Adam had the ability to sin or not to sin. Sin, Augustine posited, was not the thought of sin, but the act itself. Furthermore, Adam’s sin is transmittable to all the forthcoming generations of man through act of sex. Eventually, he occludes his own statement by saying that one should not speculate too much on the matter, possibly due to the fact that the theodicy is too great: why would God create a being that could sin in the first place? Calvinism, however, found Augustine to be a great spokesman: God had full knowledge that man would fall, therefore it was in His great plan to save the Elect. Again, the logic is confusing, but Augustine would say to say no more on the subject.

Anglican divines, such as Jeremy Taylor, looked to the Eastern Fathers for their explanation of original sin. God had created man in a state of childlike innocence, and original sin was not necessarily a falling away from God as much as it was a stumbling block. Man was left in a state of imperfection, not completely sullied by this act of perfidy. Of course, Calvinist Augustinians countered that this denies the potency of original sin altogether and thus makes such sacraments as baptism meaningless. This, they believed, was tantamount to heresy. Even the embattled Anglican clergy, foisted from their positions of power in the Civil War, had objections to Taylor on the grounds that he was only inviting the Puritans’ approbation.

Beside the conflict between these two major doctrines, there were a multitude of other ideas about the Fall. Some groups, like those who believed Franck’s Theologica Germanica, viewed the apple not as a literal apple, but as a metaphor. It was the ego. Man would do best to deny himself, and return to a state of nature. This elicited interesting responses—such as the short-lived sect known as the Diggers, who sought to recreate Eden through communal living, working the earth, abstaining from meat. Others interpreted Genesis in a more Gnostic fashion—God was the demiurge, the Serpent the giver of knowledge. Radical groups, like the Ranters, even employed blasphemy in attempting to live out their vision of paradisiacal bliss.

Into this confusing state of theological affairs steps John Milton. A Calvinist (therefore Augustinian in his leanings) by creed, he nevertheless had read widely and understood very well the differing opinions about the Fall. Poole does an excellent job of describing literature about original sin that predated as well as influenced him. He also explains that an early influence on Milton was Alexander Gil, who appealed to man’s rational creativity (125). Thus, Milton’s early poetry does not look upon the Fall with the usual gloom associated with ascetic Puritanism. In his poem “At a solemn Musick,” Milton even suggests that the original harmony might be regained (127-28). But this optimism was not to last.

As early as 1640, Milton was composing the ideas that would lead to his epic. One of the most prevalent themes was the inability of modern man because of his sin to imagine the state of prelapsarian Adam (131). However, his Areopagitica, a treatise against censorship, states that man should be allowed to know good by knowing evil. As Milton himself said

when God gave him reason, he gave him freedom to choose, for reason is but choosing; he had bin else a meer artificiall Adam, such an Adam as he is in the motions…God therefore left him free, set before him a provoking object, even almost in his eyes; herein consisted his merit, herein the right of his reward, the praise of his abstinence (140).

Therefore, the God of Paradise Lost allows Adam and Eve a choice—to eat of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, or to abstain. But knowing that newly-created mankind’s state is weak, God presages his fall. This is very much in line with Augustine, who saw perfection as conditional.

Poole then sets forth on an analysis of Paradise Lost, considering how Milton tackles the idea of the Fall and how it relates to similar texts. At times, it seems to degenerate into linguistic analysis that seems to circumscribe the relationship between the text and the religious ideas of Milton’s time. The reader might be a little confused by all of this, especially a non-specialist (the writer included). Seldom does Poole reference the conflicting doctrines head-on that when he does, it seems out of place. Because all of the speculations regarding the Fall were (and are) perplexing, Milton wrote to “justifie the ways of God to men.” But he also wrote in order to answer the variety of ideas relating to it and to defend his own. From Poole’s analysis are only a few excised portions where the author actually deals with different sects’ interpretation of man’s original sin or deviates, creating his own interpretation of the primordial event.

For example, he makes the devils use the language of the blaspheming Ranters. Abiezer Coppe, a leader at the forefront of the sect, described a desire to be completely immersed in “the womb of eternity” (153). In Milton’s epic, Sin comes forth from Satan, and Chaos becomes “the Womb of nature and perhaps her grave” (PL 1.911). Furthermore, Satan and his fallen angels vainly hope that heaven and hell are just frames of mind, a concept ascribed to the Ranters. Other demons think that in time the darkness of Pandaemonium will become light Yet Milton insists that they are gravely wrong –“…with their darkness durst affront his light” (Taylor 153, PL 1.391). In spite of appearing to defend a more orthodox position, Milton does stray from conventional views.

One glaring heterodoxy of Milton’s epic that many scholars have pointed out is that his universe is created not ex nihilo, but instead consists of God and a vague material, Chaos, which is of indeterminate age. In fact, John Milton was not using this idea merely as fodder for his poem, but indeed defended his position that the universe was made of some pre-existing material. Poole tackles the question of the Chaos’ moral status, exploring the differing opinions amongst scholars. Yet he gives no clear-cut answers; rather, the author thinks that it is difficult for the epic not to lapse into dualism (155).

Another particularly theologically difficult moment that Poole analyzes is God’s exaltation of his Son in Book V. It reads as though God had begotten his son, who has not been co-eternal with him. This smacks of Arianism, an early form of Christianity which believed the Father and the Son were separate entities, thereby rejecting Trinitarianism. Poole himself finds this problematic, quoting various early criticisms of the passage (160-62). Furthermore,

By announcing the Son’s exaltation without revealing its ultimate purpose, God gives some of his angels a seeming reason to disobey. And those who disobey will do so unaware that the very phenomenon they are resisting will itself ultimately repair the mundane Fall that the fallen angels will then go on to engineer…but the result is that the remedy of the Fall is also its possible cause (162).

But instead of using this to explain the tension inherent in the text, Poole immediately states that: “…either the angels will choose to stand, in which case there is no need of salvation, or they will choose to fall, in which case there is no remedy” (162). This criticism does not attack the issue of the theodicy latent in this moment head-on, but once again, circumscribes it.

Calvinist thought, besides being Augustinian in the interpretation of the Fall, also believed that both man and nature were corrupted in this cataclysm. Milton’s prelapsarian cosmology is perfect—one of equal day and night, the sun eternally in one sign of the zodiac. In other words, his Edenic world is in stasis, but pleasantly so, a Golden Age as described by Ovid (180). But when original sin occurs, nature feels the shock of the Fall once for each sex. Milton’s description of nature’s corruption through man’s sin in Book IX coincides with Calvinist orthodoxy, where man sees but “through a mirror, darkly.” Gone are the poet’s earlier hopes that perhaps we would be able to regain that initial harmony.

Despite Poole’s at times excellent analysis of the epic, it leaves a few stones unturned. Milton’s moments of heterodoxy, in which he goes against the grain of Puritan thought are not used in a manner befitting them. While there are obviously moments in which the poet defends his faith or finds fault with other interpretations, there is still more far more innovation than the criticism would seem to suggest. These innovations are problematic, because they do not exactly justify God. However, instead of pointing out the tensions inherent in the text, Poole attempts to neatly tidy them up.

Another objection is that it leaves out historical context. While it does deal explicitly with religious issues, the reader may be hard-pressed to understand the political changes that were occurring during the English Civil War and afterwards. Poole only hints at the political implications that each version of the Fall entailed, often as a side note. At the beginner of Chapter 1, he states that “In early-modern England, you could not escape the Fall. It was political: if man was fallen and wayward, how should he be governed?” (9) Then he launches in short discussion about class and gender, but never expounds on this in any sufficient detail. Milton’s Adam, who has the free will to fall or not, appears to be a defense of the democratic ideal, but again, Poole does not mention much in the way of Milton’s political affiliations, though it is known that he was a supporter of Parliament during the Civil War. This leaves much to be expected—after all, religion does have great political ramifications, especially during Milton’s time.

In spite of these drawbacks, Poole’s book undertakes a difficult task: to contextualize Milton’s epic in its time. Conflicting ideas about the Fall of man led to his own version, one that both owes much to those who came before him, but also innovates. Perhaps Milton is incapable for us to justify God’s actions, but nevertheless, Paradise Lost poses the problems that bewildered the theologians of his day and continue to befuddle the reader in the present.

 

Works Cited

Poole, William. Milton and the Idea of the Fall. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005.

Book Review: Ransom, Revenge, and Heroic Identity in the Iliad

March 22nd, 2008

Wilson, Donna. Ransom, Revenge, and Heroic Identity in the Iliad

New York: Cambridge University Press. 2002

      Donna Wilson explores the compensation in the Iliad involving exchanges that may be subsumed under the principle of reciprocity, revealing a mental model for interpreting social relations and movement of goods between the significant men of the Iliad.  “Reciprocity has been defined in a narrow sense as prestation and more generally as exchange conceptualized as the performance and requital of actions perceived as gratuitous, whether effecting benefit or harm” (Wilson 13).  Wilson continues explaining that the Iliad complicates the mirror-image opposition of negative and positive reciprocity, for the person who is said to pay back harm is not the one who sustained it but the one who inflected it in the first place. (13)

 

Wilson further investigates the vivacity between the main figures of the Iliad,Agamemnon and Chryses, Agamemnon and Achilles, Achilles and Hector, and Achilles and Priam.  Within each association there is an exchange of either ransom (apoina) or revenge (poine).  Wilson explains the path of ransom (apoina) on the battlefield may be described as goods for life inasmuch as preservation of the warrior’s life and security of his return to his family.  Where as loss of a person may elicit a claim of revenge (poine). Complicating matters of revenge (poine) can be a conversion of material goods for life, a conversion of cultural capital for life, or the conveyance of life for a life.

 

Throughout the book, the aspects of ransom (apoina) and revenge (poine) are applied to the Iliad starting with book 1, Agamemnon and Chryses to book 24, Achilles and Priam.  Wilson does an excellent job exploring the facets of revenge while explaining the reasoning behind the heroic identity within the social system of the Greek society.

 

Wilson’s writing is easy to follow but sometime difficult to comprehend due to her insertion of Greek words without explanation.  However, she does give a listing of these words in the Preface for your reference while reading.  To me, it interrupts the thought process when you have to periodically flip to the front of the book to find the context of the word.  She gives references to many other scholars when discussing the aspects of ransom, revenge, and heroic identity in the Iliad throughout the book so that it adds to the authenticity of her comments.  She also lists an Appendix 1 – Catalog of Compensation Themes, Appendix 2 – Arrangement of Compensation Themes along with notes, abbreviations, references, index of Homeric passages, and the general index.

 

This book is an excellent reference when exploring heroism in Greek literature.  This reading has provided me with a better understanding of the societal status of the hero and the hierarchy of Greek life so that I may explore the aspects of the hero’s nature further.

 

You may check this book out at our own Steely Library or you can purchase at Amazon.com used for $34.98 or new $48.00 or any other online book store.

  

 

Review: The Rhetoric of Manhood: Masculinity in the Attic Orators

March 22nd, 2008

Roisman, Joseph.  The Rhetoric of Manhood:  Masculinity in the Attic Orators. 

 

Berkeley:  University of California Press.  2005.

 

            Joseph Roisman investigates the make-up, identity, and role of male citizens as they were recorded in the works of Athenian orators.  Every aspect of manhood is explored as the Athenian speakers shared perceptions of manhood.  “Manhood, then, is viewed here as a cultural construct that embraces roles, practices, and beliefs that put man at its center” (Rosiman 2).  Rosiman continues to explain that the nonoratorical sources are of course useful in reconstructing Athenian manhood, however; such sources, be literary or material, have special properties that cannot be ignored or dissociated from the information they convey, and including them would make this a work of immense proportions (2). 

            In order to uncover the ideal male in the Athenian culture, Roisman also discovered the “bad man” as well.  With the desirable male came the undesirable male.  The conduct and characteristics of the male were based on ideologies, a set of beliefs, attitudes, and assumptions that were held in society by all members of that society.  In turn these ideologies guided, justified, and helped to explain the conduct and social environment (7). 

            Roisman compiles several components in identifying features of manhood.  These components differ in context, but will aid in seeing how the Athenian man satisfied, or deviated from, the masculine perception and expectation.  “The standards of masculinity could be stringent or lax, depending on the individual, the observers, the circumstances that framed the manly conduct or attitude, and the perceived legitimacy of those standards” (Roisman 9).   

            The author delves into eight areas of the Athenian male and in each area tells how the male was expected to behave.  In these eight areas Roisman breaks apart all that the Athenian male was expected to be and fully explains what was “good” and what was “bad” in terms of being a male. 

            Throughout the book, each aspect of classical masculinity is explored, starting with “Manly Youth” and going to “What Men Fear”.  Roisman does an excellent job at investigating and then explaining the most “needed” areas of the Athenian male:  honor, shame, responsibilities, struggles, power, fear, social standing, desires, and control.  Classical masculinity has all of its facets discovered through orations.  Rosiman also clarifies that there are contradictions in the perceptions of masculinity as it was not an exact definition because nothing was ever written down.  However, even though there are contradictions, the male did have expectations to follow.  “Rhetorical manipulation helped them [males] not just to attain their goals but also take their roles and gender expectations seriously without doubting their beliefs or questioning their conduct” (Roisman 212).

Roisman’s writing style is easy to follow and comprehend.  I did not feel overwhelmed by the diction, which was always explained.  Roisman explored various aspects of the classical male and in turn captured the most useful information.  The material contained in this book is extremely helpful in learning about classical masculinity—what made a man a man in Athenian society. 

This book is an excellent source for exploring and understanding the Athenian male.  I read this book in order to gain a deeper knowledge of the hero character in Greek literature.  By reading this book I have gained a better foundation of the male’s role in Athenian society, which truly comes through in the heroic characters of this time period.  I wanted to know why Homer, Virgil, Ovid, etc. made their heroes do what they did, act how they acted, behaved how they behaved.  I wanted to know the background behind these heroes.  By reading Roisman’s book I believe I have a stronger foundation about the Greek hero.  This book offers knowledge about the Athenian male, which aids in the clarification of the “madness” behind the hero.     

A Review of Renaissances: The Cultures of Italy. c.1300-c.1600 By Richard Mackenney

March 21st, 2008

A Review of

Renaissances: The Cultures of Italy. c.1300-c.1600

By Richard Mackenney

 

 

Richard Mackenney, Professor of History at the University of Edinburgh, makes the argument that there was anxiety in Italy over the challenges that ancient cultures made to the Christian faith. His book, Renaissances: The Cultures of Italy. c.1300-c.1600, illustrates this anxiety and also details the customs and variety in Italy at this time. He begins by giving a timeline of events in 2 sections, “Deconstructions and Reconstructions.” Cultures and government are addressed in the two “Context” sections. These four sections contain the most material and are the most beneficial. I found it to be useful information, and a great background text before reading Dante’s Inferno.

 

The first two sections, “Deconstructions and Reconstructions,” were the two that contained the most information historically. Mackenney begins by explaining that it was in effort to “understand a past culture on its own terms,” (p 15) that the humanists, such as Machiavelli, Bracciolini, and Pope Innocent III, journeyed back to the time of the ancients. Even though it meant, “stripping away what had accumulated [culturally] in the course of the centuries which separated their own world from the classical past,” (15), it was in effort to understand and appreciate the ideas of the ancients, that they did this. Next the reader receives a very detailed, very useful, timeline of the 14-17th centuries in Italy. Included is a retelling of how all the independent states in Italy became one country officially, a description of the times of St. Francis and Dante, as well as the plague. Literally, in “Deconstructions” and “Reconstructions,” Mackenney deconstructs the confusion of why there even was a Renaissance in Italy and then he reconstructs the country’s history.

 

After reading all about the history of Italy, the reader is guided by Mackenney to incorporate the different cultures in the first “Context” chapter and then he does the same for the governments of Italy in the chapter, “Contexts: II.” Mackenney’s key argument about the many cultures in the Italian Renaissance is that the “whole of Italy” was not touched by the rebirth. Rural areas that were remote to the cities and government did not feel the effects of the Renaissance. Also, his analysis of the Christian church’s anxiety at this time is clear. Mackenney breaks down and details the styles of the courts in Italy during these centuries. This is another useful tool, as many of the names mentioned in The Inferno can be found and identified for significance.

 

The book is a very useful resource! At times the information was cumbersome and perhaps a little drawn out, but informative and worth the time spent reading it none the less.

Book Review: The Distaff Side: Representing the Female in Homer’s Odyssey by Beth Cohen

March 20th, 2008

The Distaff Side: Representing the Female in Homer’s Odyssey by Beth Cohen

The Distaff Side: Representing the Female in Homer’s Odyssey, a collection of essays edited by Beth Cohen, provides a unique, interdisciplinary look into the nature of female representations in Homer’s Odyssey, especially their significance in Greek history, art, mythology, and culture.  Beth Cohen divides her book into three distinct parts, each dealing with a particular facet of the poem’s female representations.  Although feminine in outlook, this book is not completely feminist in approach and provides an honest, studied look into this developing field in classical studies.

The first part of the book is three essays that comprise an introduction to the subject of female representations in Greek literature and art.  A.J. Graham, Professor of Classical Studies and Allen Memorial Professor in Greek at the University of Pennsylvania, is a specialist in colonization who uses the Odyssey as historical evidence for the role of Greek women in colonization.  His essay explores the question of whether or not Greek women took part in colonization, asserting that, due to their prominent role in religious rights, it is impossible that the Greeks would have left them behind in favor of native women who didn’t speak any Greek.  The next essay by Seth Schein offers more of a survey of the representation of women in the poem.  He notes interestingly that the non-human women, Kalypso, Kirce, Skylla, etc. are harmful to the hero while the human women are invariably helpful.  The last essay in this section, jointly written by the editor and Diana Buitron-Oliver, explores the evolution of the representation of women from The Odyssey in Greek art, noting in particular how those representations developed beyond the boundaries of the poem and the cultural implications of such shifts.

The second part of the book features classicists known for their work exploring women in antiquity as they consider the roles of important women in the poem; namely, Athena, the Sirens, and Penelope.  In the first essay, Sheila Murnaghan explores the role of Athena as both a woman and her father’s son, theorizing that her allegiance is in the support of a male patriarchy/perspective despite the importance in the poem given to women in preserving the oikos.  Lillian Doherty’s essay is concerned with female narrators, the Muses and Sirens.  The final two essays in this section, by Helen Foley and Froma Zeitlin respectively, probe special issues related to Penelope; specifically, how her decision/indecision make her a primary moral agent in the poem and how the bed serves as a symbol of her fidelity.

The final section of this book focuses primarily on representations of the female characters of The Odyssey by ancient Greek, Etruscan, and Roman artists.  H. A. Shapiro, author of several books about classical art, gives an intriguing look into the erotic imagery in Greek associated art with the meting of Odysseus and Nausikaa.  Richard Brilliant explores the animalistic imagery and associations inherent in the Kirce episode, specifically where men are turned into pigs.  Jennifer Neils, Chair of the Department of Art History and Art at Case Western University, traces the possible meanings of the iconographic evolution of the depiction of Skylla and the Sirens.  She suggests that to Homer they were a personification of common sea hazards, but their depiction in art shows how they came to be related with the underworld, when depicted as half bird, or uncivilized women/people, when depicted as bare-breasted.  The final essay in the book, written by Christine Havelock, gives a unique analysis of the rare depictions in Greek art of the maidservant Eurykleia’s recognition of Odysseus.

Overall, I found this book to be an enjoyable, intriguing read.  The organization of the book into three independent sections, with the first being an introduction, is logical and helpful both for the advanced scholar and for those newer to the subject.  Those who need no overview can easily skim through this section as a refresher, while those new to the subject would find a comprehensive background necessary to understand the more complex essays that occur in the latter sections of the book.  The only organizational weakness lies in the positioning/relevance of the first essay.  While an intriguing look into the complex issues involved with dating The Odyssey and women’s roles in Greek colonization, it has little relevance in regards to the issues raised by the other essays in the book which focus more on iconographic representations of women in the poem.  The second essay in the book provides a more comprehensive introduction into modern scholarship and issues surrounding female representations in the poem and should have a more prominent placement.  The language is very readable, the style is intellectual but not stiff, and all Greek terms are fully explained.  At the end of the book, a comprehensive bibliography provides a wealth information that enables the reader to further pursue any topic mentioned if he or she should so desire. 

The main strength of this book lies in the diversity and thorough scholarship of its many authors.  By having scholars specializing in both art and literature contribute to the book, it gives the subject the interdisciplinary focus that a truly in-depth analysis requires.  Each assertion made by the authors is well researched and thought out, indicative of years of study on the subject.  The honesty of the authors in examining opinions different than their own and opening themselves up to criticism reflects the indeterminate nature of the poem itself that can’t be reduced to any one interpretation.  The scholarship of the book is very modern and in line with contemporary writing on the subject; however, it is lacking in scholarship about the role and representations of Queen Arete.  She is the only prominent female figure not considered by the authors; and her status as a woman of authority, a wife, and a mother offer intriguing comparisons to the other strong women represented in the poem, especially Penelope.

I would recommend this book to anyone desiring to understand more about the meanings of various representations of women in The Odyssey and how those representations are portrayed in Greek and Roman art.  The Distaff Side: Representing the Female in Homer’s Odyssey by Beth Cohen, copyright 1995, is available through the Oxford University Press for $53 new.

Literary Darwinism and Ovid’s Metamorphoses

March 17th, 2008

Amber Weiss
Dr. Kent-Drury
Eng 685
March 17, 2008

Literary Darwinism and Ovid’s Metamorphoses

                The gods and goddesses of Ovid’s Metamorphoses resemble humans in their appearance and actions.  This behavior, however, seems frequently quite shocking, even amoral to the modern mind.   Is it possible to see some kind of reason behind the many philanderings of Jove or the wrathful actions of Juno?  Why does nearly every god in the book strive to rape beautiful virgins, often more than one?  Through the lens of literary Darwinism, it is possible to better understand the actions of the gods as responding to reproductive urgings necessary to ensure the survival of the species or a particular string of genetic code—urgings that still motivate human action today.

                Literary Darwinism as a critical approach to analyzing literature is still a newly-developing theory that emerged during the last century.  It applies biology and evolutionary theory to interpreting literature, striving to better understand human nature and culture.  Most theorists recognize, however, that although our minds and writing reflect evolution’s design, it doesn’t mean “that all is nature and not nurture, that all is heredity and not environment” (Boyd 4).  The workings of the human mind and motivations for the actions of people come from a complex combination of biological, cultural, moral, and social influences.  Despite this, there are some underlying motivations for human behavior that can be revealed through this theoretical approach.

                The gods, whether Greek or Roman, are essentially human in nature, but they are not bound by the same set of social restraints and cultural mores as regular people were in Roman society.  Because of this, they are freer to respond to their biological urgings than someone constrained by society to act in a certain way and follow certain rules.  The actions of the gods, therefore, can be seen as representing, usually in an extreme fashion, those impulses and feelings that the Romans consciously repressed and perhaps didn’t fully understand.  If Ovid is any indicator, one feeling that the Romans didn’t understand and repressed was the sexual drive, something that the gods had in spades.  Bryan Body suggests that “our sex drive presumably comes from our genes, yet we all manage to curb our sexual desires” (Boyd 3) when socially required.  This social pressure isn’t existent for the gods, as supreme powers, save perhaps when dodging detection by a spouse.  

Beginning in the book with Io, Jove has a series of sexual escapades, usually nonconsensual, with myriad beautiful virgins.  If the motivations for his actions aren’t the result of a social constraint, what are they the result of?  Barash and Barash state in their book that “really successful males are those who have succeeded in monopolizing the sexual favors of more than one female” (16).  Jove’s actions with Io and others are those of a successful man ensuring that his progeny will continue on into the future.   Especially in unstable times, having a multiplicity of children is the gene’s way of guaranteeing the best possibility for survival.  Choosing beautiful virgins with whom to mate is a form of natural selection, as the biological urge leads Jove to choose someone that will strengthen the genetic code, ensuring its survival into future generations, and guarantee him of paternity. 

Jove isn’t the only god prone to multiple partners either; nearly every male god in the poem is responsible for ravishing some virgin.  The Sun is enraptured by a succession of women:
           You’ve chosen (Leucothoë), and no longer care
           for Clymene, for Rhodos, or for Circe’s
           most attractive mother; you neglect
           poor Clytie, who, although you scorn her,
           is very eager to make love to you. (Ovid 4.283-87)
This is an impressive string of women that have succumbed to the Sun, and the poet even states that at least one of them was willing.  By responding to biological urgings, the Sun has ensured that he too is a successful male who enjoys the sexual favors of many women, and his genetic code has ensured its survival into the future.

If Jove’s actions, and those of the other gods, are understandable genetically, what about those of his very jealous wife/sister Juno?  Time and again throughout the poem she turns her anger and wrath against the women who, usually against their will but not always, bear the offspring of Jove.   Juno speculates:
                Why bother, though? She’s just a one-night stand,
                a momentary insult to my conjugal rights.
                But this one carries shame that can’t be hidden
                In her tumescent womb—and that is new;
                Her fondest wish is to become the mother
                of a child by Jove—an honor I’m denied. (Ovid 3.340-45)
In the genetic struggle for the survival of the species is also the struggle of an individual genetic code to continue.  In the case of Juno, she can’t have a child by Jove, so she, or her genetics, strives to ensure that her rivals don’t reproduce as well.  She’s not angry at the “momentary insult” but by the fact that her rival seeks her chosen mate’s child.  The text supports the assertion by Juno’s hatred being “redirected / more generally against Europa’s kin” (Ovid 3.327-28).  Not only does she not want the child to survive, but she tries to wipe out any possible descendants as well to eradicate the genetic competition.  She does this again at Aegina: “Juno’s anger turned / against the land that bore her rival’s name” (Ovid 7.749-50).  The women who have Jove’s offspring need not have been willing; it is enough to arouse the biological anger of her genes that they have the child her genes are denied.

Although the actions of the very human gods can be seen to have biological/evolutionary motivations, this doesn’t lend them any sort of moral validity.  Boyd argues that despite the fact that “biology provides a base for human life does not mean that it must impose a model for human morality” (2).  The actions of the gods, though understandable biologically, are not justifiable by Darwinian literary theory.  Genetics may dictate human drives and actions both now and thousands of years ago, but it is the mind and culture that impose the standards for right and wrong by which those actions are judged.

Works Cited

Barash, David P. and Nanelle R. Barash.  Madame Bovary’s Ovaries: A Darwinian Look at Literature. New York: Delacorte Press, 2005.
Boyd, Brian.  “Jane, Meet Charles: Literature, Evolution, and Human Nature.”  Philosophy and Literature. 22.1 (1998) 1-30.  Project Muse.  13 March 2008.  <http://muse.jhu.edu>.
Ovid.  Metamorphoses.  Tr. Charles Martin.  New York: Norton 2005.

book review

March 17th, 2008

Carrie L. Taylor
Dr. Kent-Drury
English 685
23 March 2008

Book Review: Ancient Philosophy Mystery and Magic, by Peter Kingsley

In Ancient Philosophy Mystery and Magic, Peter Kingsley compiles accounts
from historians and writers to analyze the life and writings of Empedocles, the fifth century, B.C. philosopher and poet. The historians who investigated his legend came from various geographical regions and lived hundreds of years apart. The author’s premise suggests that writer’s principles, which often guide their literary forms, have been tainted by religious or political beliefs for centuries. This anthology supports this premise and gives detailed cultural and scientific accounts of Empedocles being unfairly labeled and interpreted.

The mystical Empedocles was known as a poet, philosopher, a master of rhetoric, and some considered him skilled in the art and science of medicine. Over the last two thousand years, since the death of this famous Greek poet, many historians have reviewed and interpreted the fragmentary lines of writing that has survived.

Empedocles’ prose has cultivated great controversy among experts. Many of these experts have chosen to draw a line between Pythagorean and ‘Neopythagoreans’; the former era focusing more on rituals, cults and magic and the later ascribed to science, reason and rationality.

In Kingsley’s literary criticisms, he emphasizes the value in empirical, philosophical and scientific evidence. These should be equally considered and are vital for accurate assessment of writing. According to him, the influential written consensus, implies that, “Empedocles importance lies in his philosophy, taken as philosophy, and not as biography” (228) Kingsley argues that there is no neat line between Empedocles the magician, cosmologist and poet and the man who studies the art of science. There is an art and science in both science and art, so when we study his legacy we cannot regard one with a lack of importance.

By basing literary work strictly on the assumptions of facts during one specific time period, we may lose some meaning of the coherent work. The author identifies the danger in interpreting a work of writing with religious or philosophical bias. Writers throughout various time periods have changed or transformed words, which modifies the overall significance of the work.

The word used by Empedocles as reference to an earthly element was aither, the original meaning; down to the fourth century was the basic term for air. Aer was the meaning for cloud or obscure mist. These two words became merged when the infamous Aristotle began using these interchangeably; he used both words in identical passages (19). Kingsley cites many examples of erroneous interpretations from lyrics and prose that have arisen over centuries.

As two members of the first generation of academics, or the Academy, Plato and Aristotle, began to reduce the ancient mythological associations and magical connotations from their writings. Philosophies relating to religion were interrelated to the later Greeks lives and as Kingsley claims, these new philosophies often become part of literature as well.

Should the misuse or transformation of words be supported? If so, we may lose the original contextual meaning through writing. “What always needs to be considered are how later individuals use language. Mere verbal similarities can be deceptive; superficial signs of influence or indebtedness may conceal vastly different interests and concerns (341). Kingsley provides more examples of individuals who are often established scholars.

In the twelfth century, Gerard of Cremona, translates a passage in Aristotle’s On the Heavens. The word phylake is used in earlier and ancient Greek sources for ‘bound’ or ‘imprisoned’ and this is referenced to the fire at the centre of the earth. Kingsley claims that the Pythagorian language is altered by Christian philosophy when Calvin substitutes the word phylax, or ‘watch-post’ in the New Testament (211). Christians did not support many of the cult or mythological ideals, in this case the ideal of fire in the center of the earth. This example, one of many illustrated in the book, provides evidence that even minor revisions during oral or written translations may transform the meaning of the work.

An accurate understanding of Pythagorean tradition should require in depth links between integral parts of physical, geological contexts and social beliefs within traditions of the studied society. “Too much importance should not be placed on one, two or three philosophers within a time period. Socrates, Plato and Aristotle provided historical significance for future writers but they were neither the be-all or end-all of ancient philosophy” (340). Through powerful writing and through eminent philosophers we may assume fluid communication but this should not be misconstrued for accuracy.

Many have interpreted Empedocles’ writing over thousands of years and these interpretations have been skewed; this is a result of careless interpreters or writers who have a bias for a religious fervor. The inclusion of personal philosophies can cause a metamorphosis in meaning. He scolds literary scholars who have been guilty of this and suggests that professionals should have a new perspective when studying ancient Greece and the individual ‘schools of thought’.

Kingsley stresses the importance of the writers’ mission and offers his book as proof that some scholars have inconspicuously or conspicuously altered work over the years. Ancient Philosophy Mystery, and Magic should be recognized as a warning to those who value communication. Potential damage can arise from a lack of authenticity through referencing and research; the comprehensive structure of our predecessors’ messages may be misinterpreted. The impact will affect future historians, scientists and philosophers. As writers, we should take responsibility for how we impact and influence readers, for our interpretations may be the underlying theme and inspiration for another’s.

Works Cited

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Kingsley, Peter. Ancient Philosophy Mystery, and Magic, Empedocles and  

Pythagorean Tradition.  New York: Oxford University Press Inc., 1995.

 

March 7th, 2008

Jennifer Ethridge

06 March 2008

ENG 685

Dr. Kent-Drury

Female portrayals in the Aeneid

                Aeneas is a major character in the Aeneid.  Therefore, his treatment and interaction with women in the epic is critical in the roles and view of women.  Aeneas is more bound by his drive by the goal of founding the Roman Empire rather than to any female by love.  Love has no place in his life or his fate.

                Two major women in his life are Creusa and Dido.  There are many similarities in these different women.  Both of these women are deeply in love with Aeneas.  He leaves both of these women (at least they feel he has abandoned them) and they both ultimately end up dead because of this.

                Aeneas is going to leave his wife and son as he goes into exile but Creusa, his wife, who because of her love for him, begs to follow him into this danger.  He agrees to let her follow him while he holds their son’s hand.  As seen by the line, “Little Iulus, walk beside me, and you, my wife, follow me at distance, in my footsteps. “ (2:884-885)  He gets so distracted departing from Troy and the danger that he forgets about her and when he does think about her she is gone.  He does not blame himself; instead he blames the gods, the human race and even Creusa herself.

“Oh dear god, my wife, Creusa - / torn fro me by brutal fate! What then/ did she stop in her tracks or lose her way? / Or exhausted, sink down to rest?  Who knows? / I never set my eyes on her again./ I never looked back, she never crossed my mind-/ Creusa, lost-not till we reached that barrow/ sacred to ancient Ceres where, with all our people/ rallied at last, she alone was missing.  Lost/ to her friends, her son, her husband-gone forever./ Raving, I blamed them all, the gods, the human race-/what crueler blow did I feel the night that Troy went down?

Dido is another female, who by deception, falls in love with Aeneas.  When Aeneas decides to leave he wishes to do so without talking and explaining to Dido.  He doesn’t want to hurt her.  He cares about her but his desire for his political ambitions are greater. 

“What can he dare say now/ to the queen in all he fury and win her over?/ Where to begin, what opening?/ Thoughts racing,/ here, there, probing his options, turning/ to this plan-torn in two until,/ at his wits’ end, this answer seems the best.” 4:350-355

 

                He explains to her that it is not his choice and he has no control over his life.  “If the Fates had left me free to live my life, to arrange my own affairs of my own free will”. 4:424-425 Dido is very upset with his leaving and with his explanation to her.  She responds by saying:

“No goddess was your mother!/ No Dardanus sired your line, you traitor, liar, no,/ Mount Caucasus fathered you on its flinty, rugged flanks/  and the tigers of Hyrcania gave you their dugs to suck!” 4:456-459

“Did he groan when I wept? Even look at me? Never!/ Surrender a tear?  Pity the one who loves him?” 4:461-462

 

Even though Dido clearly believes he does not care at all for her, you see his feelings.

 

“Strongly as he longs/ to ease and ally her sorrow, speak to her,/ turn away her anguish with reassurance, still,/ moaning deeply, heart shattered by his great love,/ in spite of all he obeys the gods’ commands and back he goes to his ships.” 4:495-500

 

Even so, Dido takes her own life.

                Although Aeneas seems cold towards the females in his life, in order to win victory he cannot let the emotion of love to blind him.  He needs to stay focused on being hard and angry instead of loving and peaceful.  “The significance for the Aeneid as a whole of Aeneas’ behavior towards Dido and Creusa is that it reveals his otherwise astonishing brutality in Books 10 and 12 to be not entirely anomalous.” (Perkell 217)

Works Cited

Perkell, Christine G. “On Creusa, Dido, and the Quality of Victory in Virgil’s.” Women’s Studies 8 (1981): 201-223.Virgil. The Aeneid. Trans. Robert Fagles. New York: Penguin Books, 2008. 

The Role of Augustus in The Aeneid

March 6th, 2008

C. Ross Hughes

ENG 685

             Emerging from a period of peace following the Roman Civil Wars, The Aeneid is a work that praises the destiny of the Roman people.  Especially prevalent are references to Augustus, who had assumed power as emperor in 27 BC, ending the Roman Republic that had lasted for  a little more than five centuries.  Because of this shift in Roman government, Augustus needed to prove a precedent for his power.  In the Aeneid, Virgil seeks to legitimize Augustus’ rule by demonstrating comparisons between Aeneas and the emperor.  Therefore, he gives an account of the heroic and divine origins of Augustus as well as the religious and moral practices he espoused.

            The relationship between Augustus and Virgil has been much debated by scholars, as Virgil left the work incomplete. To some critics, it appears as though Virgil had never intended his poem to become propaganda.  .  In fact, as Suetonius relates in The Life of Virgil that nearing the time of his death

            …he had arranged with Varius that if anything should happen to him, Varius should burn

            The Aeneid; but the latter had insisted that he would do no such thing; and so when his

            health was at the very end he kept calling for his book-boxes, intending to burn them

            himself; but when nobody brought them he took no specific precautions about the poem.

            Instead he left his writings to the same Varius, and also to Tucca, under the condition that

            they not publish anything that he had not himself published.  But under the influence of

          Augustus, Varius published [The Aeneid] after making superficial corrections (qtd. in Thomas 53-

         54).

But the fact is undeniable: regardless of Virgil’s reluctance to publish and even to burn his own poem, it became fodder for the cult of personality surrounding Augustus.

            Augustus’ victory at the Battle of Actium ended the long series of civil wars that had been wracking the Roman Republic since the early 1st century BC.  Virgil celebrates this in his poem by having Vulcan create for Aeneas a shield foretelling the future of Rome.  The poet describes:

            And here in the heart

            of the shield: the bronze ships, the battle of Actium,

            you could see it all…

            On one flank, Caesar Augustus leading Italy into battle,

            the Senate and People too, the gods of hearth and home

            and the great gods themselves. High astern he stands,

            the twin flames rising from the peak of his head, his father’s star (8:790-798).

In this passage, Augustus is seen as the champion of senatus populusque romanus (The Senate and Roman People).  He also is the champion of the Roman religion, bearing with him his household gods as Aeneas does.  The future emperor appears godlike, with an aureole of flame above his head and the fortune of the stars supporting him.  His enemies are described in less than favorable terms:

            And opposing them comes Antony leading on

            the riches of the Orient, troops of every stripe—

            victor over the nations of the Dawn and blood-red shores

            and in his retinue, Egypt, all the might of the East

            and Bactra, the end of the earth, and trailing

            in his wake, that outrage, that Egyptian wife! (8:803-08)

Marc Antony is supported by the despotisms of the east, barbaric peoples who seek to destroy the democracy and enlightenment of Rome, which Augustus personifies.  Like Dido, who is of Near Eastern descent, Cleopatra supports her paramour.  But unlike Aeneas, who realizes that his destiny is not to stay in Carthage with his “oriental” consort but to rise to glory as the founder of Rome, Antony is led into the temptations of the east. 

However, the victor of Actium is a unifying force.  Virgil relates another scene on Aeneas’ shield:

            …Caesar in triple triumph,

            borne home through the walls of Rome, was paying

            eternal vows of thanks to the gods of Italy…

            [He] reviews the gifts brought on by the nations of the earth

            and he mounts them high on the lofty temple doors

            as the vanquished people move in a long slow file,

            their dress, their arms as motley as their tongues.

            Here Vulcan had forged the Nomad race, the Africans

            with their trailing robes, here the Leleges, Carians,

            Gelonian archers bearing quivers, Euphrates flowing now

            with a humbled tide, the Morini brought from the world’s end,

            the two-horned Rhine and Dahae never conquered,

            Araxes River bridling at his bridge (8:836-38; 844-53).

This is a triumph for the Roman gods, as Augustus pays them tribute.  Like Aeneas, who is to be the conqueror of Italy, bringing together people of various languages and cultures, Augustus brings to his heels the whole known world.  Rivers, like the Euphrates, bend to his command, as though he were a god. 

            In 14 AD, long after Virgil’s death and following the death of Augustus, the Roman Senate declared the former emperor to be a god.  In his own time, Augustus sought to venerate Rome’s god-like heroes of its past.  As Suetonius relates in his history, The Twelve Caesars

            Next to the Immortals, Augustus most honored the memory of those citizens who had

            raised the Roman people from small beginnings to their present glory; which is why

            he restored many public buildings created by men of this caliber, complete with their

            original dedicatory inscriptions, and raised statues to them, wearing triumphal dress,

            in the twin colonnades of his Forum.  Then he proclaimed: ‘This had been done to make

            my fellow-citizens insist that both (while I live), and my successors, shall not fall below

            the standard set by those great men of old’ (Suetonius 63-64).

But before the emperor’s apotheosis, Virgil cast the leader as a soul in the underworld awaiting rebirth as the future emperor along with those heroes he so wished the people to emulate. 

Aeneas arrives in Elysium, which is paradisiacal—a place where souls, purged of all their dross, await another birth into another temporal existence of flesh and blood.  Virgil explains what sort of people are there:

            …And here are troops of men

            who had suffered wounds, fighting to save their country,

            and those who had been pure priests while still alive,

            and the faithful poets whose songs were fit for Phoebus;

            those who enriched our lives with the newfound arts they forged

            and those we remember well for the good they did mankind (6:764-69).

This is a land for patriots, unlike Tartarus, where traitors suffer horrible torments.  Priests who upheld the morality of their religion are also there—Augustus sought to revive and reinvigorate the “old ways” as a means of tightening his power and bringing order to the Empire.  Virgil, being self-serving, says that poets will also be amongst the blessed.  Coming upon his father, Anchises, who is inspecting the souls who drink the waters of Lethe like a general, Aeneas is given a vision of future Roman glory.  These souls are to become his descendants, amongst them, Caesar Augustus.  Anchises says to Aeneas:

            Now turn your eyes this way

            and behold these people, your own Roman people.

            Here is Caesar and all the line of Iulus

            soon to venture under the sky’s great arch.

            Here is the man, he’s here! Time and again

            you’ve heard his coming promised—Caesar Augustus!

            Son of a god, he will bring back the Age of Gold

            to the Latian fields where Saturn once held sway,

            expand his empire past the Garamants and the Indians

            to a land beyond the stars, beyond the wheel of the year,

            the source of the sun itself, where Atlas bears the skies

            and turns on his should the heavens studded with flaming stars.

            Even now the Caspian and Maeotic kingdoms quake at his coming,

            oracles sound the alarm and the seven mouths of the Nile

            churn with fear…(6:909-23)

According to Evander, Saturn had taught the people of Italy the ways of agriculture and civilization (9:375-85) As a soul in Elysium, Augustus is a former hero—one who is reborn again and again in order to save his people, whoever they may be.  Augustus is a savior, foretold by oracles to restore the glory of the Roman people.  After the backsliding from a period of civil strife, he will emerge from Elysium to save Rome and restore it to an Age of Gold. He, like Saturn, will bring an era of peace, enlightenment and contentment.  Augustus’ kingdom will have no end on the earth, reaching out to the stars, subjugating the despotisms of the east.

            Augustus instituted religious reform, intended to bring about a change in Roman values, establishing his new order.  He united the role of pontifex maximus (the high priest of the Roman religion) with that of the emperor.  According to Suetonius: “He increased the priesthood in numbers and dignity, and in privileges, too…” (Suetonius 63).  But this reform was not intended to be innovation; rather, Augustus wanted to revive the old religious values of Rome.  Suetonius says: “He also revived certain obsolescent rites and appointments” (63).

No passage quite encapsulates this Augustan concept of religion as well as Aeneas’ veneration of his father’s genius in Book V.  Returning to the place where his father was buried a year before, Aeneas rouses his crewmates to join him in paying homage.  He says:

Gallant sons of Dardanus, born of the gods’ high blood,

the wheeling year has passed, rounding out its months,

since we committed to earth my godlike father’s bones,

his relics, and sanctified the altars with our tears.

The day has returned, if I am not mistaken, the day

always harsh to my heart, I’ll always hold in honor.

So you gods have willed.  Were I passing the hours

an exile lost in the swirling sands of Carthage

or caught in Greek seas, imprisoned in Mycenae,

I would still perform my anniversary vows,

carry out our processions grand and grave

and heap the altars high with fitting gifts (5:55-66).

Important to maintaining order in the family is respect for one’s elders (or one’s father, as the Romans would insist).  Important in maintaining the order in an empire is respect for the emperor, the father of his country.  Aeneas, in his act of piety, is instituting the deification of deceased ancestors for time to come, in all places where the Romans might dwell.  After all, he declares that his father is “godlike.”  If the rites are followed, then the good will of the gods and ancestors will come to him.  Certainly Virgil would have known nothing of Augustus’ future apotheosis, but the passage explains the precedence for it.

            While Virgil may not have wanted his epic to become propaganda for the Augustan regime, it is obvious that the poet intended to legitimize Roman destiny, power and traditions.  However, this became ample fodder for Augustus, whose heroic and divine character is prevalent in the work itself.  The comparisons between the epic’s hero and the emperor are not merely coincidence—it was the intent of the poet.  Finally, The Aeneid gives precedents for religious rites which were then “re-introduced” by Augustus to bring about order and morality to the new Roman Empire and solidify his cult of personality.  Regardless of Virgil’s own command to burn the books, it has come down to us as a work which upholds Augustus as the savior of Rome.

  Working Bibliography 

Suetonius. The Twelve Caesars.  Trans. Robert Graves. New York: Penguin, 1979.

Thomas, Richard F. Virgil and the Augustan Reception.  New York: Cambridge University

            Press, 2001.

 Virgil. The Aeneid.  Trans. Robert Fagles. New York: Penguin, 2008.