Allusions to the Panathenaia 1 in the final scene of the Eumenides have been pointed out by a number of scholars.2 Headlam identified the red robes of the Eumenides with the cloaks worn by the Metics in the Panathenaic procession.3 In Athena's pronouncement at 1030–1.

Drawing upon the dual status of the Eumenides as metics who were neither included in nor excluded from Athenian democratic politics, this essay attempts to bring the last scene of The Eumenides to contemporary political settings wherein we observe the duality of immigrants—that is, the tension between political citizenship and cultural foreignness—in our liberal society. The controversial bride kidnapping cases among Hmong immigrants show that the liberal regulative principles such as reciprocity and mutual respect cannot work in the (...) context of powerful and irreconcilable cultural and moral conflicts, which go beyond the line that we can tolerate in the name of cultural diversity. Instead, this essay focuses on the Athenian citizens’ and the Eumenides’ courageous decision to suffer together, not merely to live together, in an attempt to find a new possibility of democratic coexistence. (shrink)

"This essay focuses on the third play in the Oresteia trilogy, the Eumenides. Telech provides a compelling reinterpretation of Nietzsche’s reading of Aeschylus's masterpiece, saving the reading from the complaint that it oversimplifies and sentimentalizes the Oresteia by celebrating the triumph of a modern and liberal understanding of law's rationalist virtues over customary and traditional forms. Telech provides an alternative Nietzschean reading that is consistent with Nietzsche's own, that reintroduces passion and irrationality into the trial and sentencing of Orestes, (...) refrains from romanticizing law, and along the way makes a case for institutionalizing a role for mercy in contemporary legal processes." (OUP abstract). (shrink)

Recent scholarship has shown that the Eumenides of Aeschylus, far from presenting a complete and coherent picture of the well-ordered polis, in fact offers something quite different, namely, a complex set of questions, concerns and conundrums regarding the very nature of political society. But I suggest that the literature has not yet provided a fully satisfying account of the ways in which those questions are underwritten by the specifically literary practice of Aeschylus as it develops the play’s larger theoretical (...) – especially moral – implications. I argue that the Eumenides can fruitfully be read as a sustained exercise in the subversion of expectations that unsettles its audience and thereby opens up a discursive and aesthetic space for the development of a distinctive political problematic; and further, that this problematic involves a challenging series of meditations on what today would be called political ethics, broadly conceived. (shrink)

Eumenides 517–25 contains a centrepiece of Aeschylean ideology—the role of punishment and fear in the ruling of the city. However, the text is vexed by serious issues at lines 522–5. This paper reassesses the main problems, reviews the most influential emendations, and puts forward a new hypothesis. It argues in favour of circumscribing the corruption, offering a new interpretation that permits retention of parts of the text that most editors have deemed impossible to restore.

This article offers an auditory analysis of Aeschylus’ innovative staging of the chorus in Eumenides. The Erinyes’ characterization and initial utterances engage a broader tradition of chthonic sound, including the pythikos nomos, an instrumental solo for the aulos that conveyed the serpent’s suffering when Apollo slew her at Delphi. The resonance of this sound recalls the primordial cries of other chthonic figures, embodying a voice that cultural listening practices had associated with resistance to Olympian oppression. Such an auditory analysis (...) motivates the Erinyes’ unique characterization and staging, while also suggesting the use of auletic sound effects on the tragic stage. (shrink)

The word Eὐμεν⋯δες occurs six times in our texts of Greek tragedy (four times in Eur.Or., twice in Soph.O.C.) and once as a play title (Aesch.Eum.). This may make ‘Eumenides in Greek tragedy’ sound like a restricted subject, but it is one that has seldom been discussed as a whole, and scholars have tended to consider each of the three plays in question in the light of unargued assumptions about the other two, and about the nature and affinities of (...) Eumenides in general. I shall begin with some introductory remarks on cults, since not all the information is readily available in reference books, and then discuss the three plays in turn, starting for convenience with theOrestes. (shrink)

Although Aeschylus' Oresteia moves toward resolution on many fronts, there are significant counterpoints to these positive progressions. Human stature and initiative decline over the course of the trilogy; the "hero"of the final play is largely passive, with speech and action increasingly the province of the gods; Orestes' "initiation" in Eumenides remains incomplete; and the trilogy ends with not just "uppity" women put in their place but the capacity for human greatness itself reduced. These and other contrapuntal undercurrents complicate and (...) enrich our response to the many resolutions that do occur in the final play of the trilogy. (shrink)

The difficulty in this antistrophe is found mainly in its last line and is caused by κενου which, as it stands, does not make sense and is also unmetrical . It is noticeable on the other hand that the basic meaning of the antistrophe is not really affected by omitting †κενου†, and it looks as though the scholia did not pay any attention to it in commenting as follows:.

Having withered you while you live I will lead you down so that you may give recompense for the miseries of your slaughtered mother. And if anyone else of mortals has done wrong, committing impiety against god or any stranger or his own parents, you will see him getting his just deserts. For Hades is a great euthunos of mortals below the ground, he oversees all things with his tablet-writing mind.

The earliest ancient Greek text to narrate the resolution of a large-scale conflict by judicial means is Aeschylus's tragedy Eumenides, first performed in Athens in 458 BC. After explaining the historical context in which the play was performed—a context of acute civic discord and the imminent danger of an escalation of reciprocal revenge killings by the lower-class faction in Athens—this article offers a new reading of the play and asks if it can help us think about the challenges inherent (...) in conflict resolution today. The prosecutors are the Erinyes, the archaic supernatural agents of murder victims; their responsibility, in predemocratic Greece, before the invention of law courts, was to punish murderers. The defendant is Orestes, who has killed his mother but argues that, since she had killed his father, he was acting justly. The judges consist of eleven Athenian citizen jurors plus the presiding god, Athena, whose twelfth vote carries slightly more weight than any of the others. The article concludes that some aspects of the procedure are exemplary, especially Athena's insistence on respecting each side's right to be heard, her sensitivity toward the grievances felt by the defeated Erinyes, and the compensation they are offered. On the other hand, the tragedy clearly shows how difficult it is for a fair legal judgment to be made without a view to larger issues of national expedience, security, and inherent power structures, especially that of patriarchy. (shrink)

‘The issues surrounding Orestes’ purification are some of the most difficult in all of Aeschylus’ wrote A. L. Brown in 1982. Despite the appearance since then of an overall treatment of pollution and three editions of the play, there continue to be disagreements about the matter. In this paper I suggest that we may be better able to understand the treatment of purification if we focus on the importance of Orestes’ pollution to the particular version of the story constructed in (...) Eumenides. (shrink)

This paper argues that Aeschylus' Eumenides presents a coherent geography that, when associated with the play's judicial proceedings, forms the basis of an imperial ideology. The geography of Eumenides constitutes a form of mapping, and mapping is associated with imperial power. The significance of this mapping becomes clear when linked to fifth-century Athens' growing judicial imperialism. The creation of the court in Eumenides, in the view of most scholars, refers only to Ephialtes' reforms of 462 BC. But (...) in the larger context, Athenian courts in the mid-fifth century are a form of imperial control. When geographically specific jurisdiction combines with new courts, it supports and even creates a developing imperial ideology. Moreover, the figure of Athena and the role she gives the Athenian jury emphasizes a passionate pro-Athenian nationalism, a nationalism that the text connects to Athens' geographic and judicial superiority. This imperial ideology did not spring from Aeschylus' imagination fully formed; it reflects a trend in Athens of promoting her own cultural superiority. This sense of cultural superiority in fact disguises the realities of Athens' developing power and increasingly harsh subjection of her former allies. (shrink)

In Aeschylus' "Supplices" the Danaids flee their cousins and take refuge at Argos. Scholars have noted similarities between the Argos of the play and contemporary Athens. Yet one such correspondence has generally been overlooked: the Danaids are awarded sanctuary in terms reflecting mid fifth-century Athenian μετοιϰία, a process providing for the partial incorporation of non-citizens into polis life. Danaus and his daughters are of Argive ancestry and take up residence within the city, yet do not become citizens. Instead, they receive (...) the right μετοιϰεῖν τῆσδε γῆς. As metics they retain control of their person and property, and are not liable to seizure by another. They are not permitted to own immovable property, but receive rent-free lodgings. Pelasgus and the other Argive citizens serve as their citizen representative. Casting the Danaids as metics highlights the similarities between Pelasgus and his predecessor, Apis. Both leaders were confronted by violent strangers demanding to live among the Argives, and sought to protect the autochthony and territory of Argos. Yet as suppliants the Danaids cannot be forcibly expelled. Pelasgus' solution is a grant of μετοιϰία approved by the Argive assembly. The emergence of μετοιϰία as a formal status at Athens is difficult to date. Most scholars place it between the reforms of Cleisthenes and Pericles' citizenship law. The "Supplices" provides evidence for a date in the 460s, and functions as a charter myth legitimizing μετοιϰία, much the way the Eumenides does for the Areopagus. The "Supplices" also fits well within the context of immigration and urban development leading to Pericles' law. The fact that the Danaid trilogy won first prize may be due to the Athenians' empathy for Argos as a risk-taking polis committed both to defending its identity and to acknowledging divinely sanctioned claims to refuge. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Conflict and Reconciliation in Hegel’s Theory of the TragicJ. G. FinlaysonἊϱης Ἂϱει ξυμβαλεῖ, Δίϰᾳ Διϰα. (Κοεφοϱοι 461)this article has two related aims: to expound and defend Hegel’s theory of the tragic; and to clarify Hegel’s concept of reconciliation. These two aims are related in that a widespread, but misleading, conception of the tragic and a common, but mistaken, understanding of Hegel’s concept of reconciliation can seem to offer mutual (...) support. According to the misleading conception, the tragic consists in the defeat of human lives and projects that arises from irresolvable conflict. Goethe is the most notable exponent of this view. In 1824 Goethe writes that “everything tragic rests on irresolvable opposition. As soon as resolution enters or becomes possible the tragic vanishes.”1 The mistaken understanding of Hegel’s concept of reconciliation is that it consists in a triumphal and wholly affirmative resolution of contradiction through the attainment of harmony. It is easy to see how the two views support one another. For Hegel presents the tragic as a dialectic of conflict and reconciliation in human action, a dialectic in which the moment of reconciliation is ineliminable. So, if one conceives reconciliation as an harmonious resolution of conflict and one also subscribes to Goethe’s view that the tragic rests on irreconcilable opposition, one is not likely to take Hegel’s theory of the tragic very seriously. If, however, we keep in mind what Hegel means by ‘reconciliation, ’ then we can begin both to understand and to defend his theory of the tragic. [End Page 493]1. TRAGEDY AND THE TRAGICLet us begin with a preliminary delineation and defense of the concept of the tragic. Hegel does not have a theory of tragedy, he has a theory of the tragic. A theory of tragedy would be genre-specific, a theory about tragedies, the works of theater and not the pitiable and terrifying events they represent.2 Aristotle’s Poetics is a theory of tragedy. It is a theory about the composition of tragic poems, about their parts and their function. One can call a theory of tragedy loosely an ‘aesthetic’ theory, to the extent that it is a theory of the experience of a work of tragedy, indeed for the ancient Greeks, an experience not just of beholding but of participating in the performance of a tragedy. By contrast, a theory of the tragic is not a theory about tragedies. It is not genre specific, for not only tragedies are tragic. And neither is it an ‘aesthetic’ theory about the experience of a work of tragedy. Rather, it is a theory about what makes a work of theater into a tragedy, about what it is to be a tragedy. True, the essence of tragedy has to do with experience, but it has to do primarily with the experience of the tragic hero, not the experience of the actor or the spectator.Furthermore, whereas a theory of tragedy tells us something about tragedies, a theory of the tragic tells us something about human experience, human actions and the ethical-life of a community in which the actions are played out.3 The tragic arises from the way in which institutions, customs, and practices within which we become what we are, shape our actions on the one hand, and take shape through our actions on the other. Hence the question of the tragic enjoys a certain priority over the question of tragedy. The works of theater we call tragedies exist because of the tragic, not vice versa.There is another reason why we should grant that the question of the tragic as such is interesting and relevant. Tragedy is not a vague term; historically at least the matter of classification has been settled. It is not as if, in significant instances, it is impossible to decide whether a work of ancient drama is or is not a tragedy. Lebeck may argue, rather unconvincingly that the trial scene in the Eumenides is a parody of Athenian litigation; but she does not dispute that it is a tragedy.4 Steiner may claim that “tragedies end badly,” in flagrant disregard of the evidence, (the Eumenides of Aeschylus, and Sophocles’ Philoctetes and Oedipus at... (shrink)

Anonymous, Vita Aeschyli 9 preserves the following startling report concerning Aeschylus:Some say that at the performance of the Eumenides, by bringing on the chorus one by one, as he did, he terrified the audience so that children swooned and fetuses were aborted.

Tragic allusions to contemporary events are not, as a rule, taken on trust, but the Eumenides of Aeschylus provides three notable exceptions. The view that the Athenian-Argive alliance of 462 B.C. is reflected in Eum. 287–91, 667–73, anc^ 762–74 has won wide acceptance, although no systematic theory of the relation between the drama and the historical context has yet been advanced. If demonstration in detail has been wanting, the view seems to be supported by three general considerations. In the (...) first place, the emphasis put on the dramatic declaration of friendship exceeds the requirements of the plot: the acquittal of Orestes rather than his gesture of gratitude to Athens is the natural climax of this part of the drama, 1–777, and yet the gesture has been considered important enough to be heralded twice before it is actually made in 762–74. Secondly, Orestes' declaration is not limited in duration but binding on his successors in perpetuity; it seems, therefore, to have been deliberately formulated in order to react upon historical fact. Thirdly, in instituting the Council of the Areopagus and dwelling upon the importance of its constitutional function, Aeschylus seems to have gone out of his way to pass judgement of some sort on the recent reforms of Ephialtes and Pericles; the theory that he has also appreciated their foreign policy on the tragic stage is thus relieved of some of the obvious practical objections and made inherently more plausible. (shrink)

This is, in effect, an extended footnote to CQ 34 , 271. There, having occasion to discuss the ‘Aristophanic’ synopsis of Aeschylus' Eumenides, I expressed doubt about the value of such synopses in general; and I must now seek to justify this aspersion. I am not claiming any expertise in the study of Hellenistic scholarship, and shall largely be leaving it to others to decide what conclusion to draw from the facts I am pointing out; but my note will (...) have served its purpose if it stimulates discussion. (shrink)

In Eum. 1028–9 the Furies mark their transformation into Eumenides by donning red robes over their black costumes in imitation of the robes worn in the Panathenaea by metics . Greek epic was sensitive to the symbolic value of clothing and Aeschylus had experimented in the Persians with the greater scope that drama offered for clothing-symbolism. Scholars have detected a wealth of associations in the Furies' robing-scene: this culmination of the trilogy echoes the red carpet upon which Agamemnon walks (...) to his death in the first play, which is actually referred to as ‘garments’ , and the net in which Agamemnon is caught , which is brought on stage in the middle play . Another series of stage-actions of equal importance in preparing for the robing of the Furies has not been so well explained. (shrink)

Intertwined with the celebration of Athenian democratic institutions, we find in the "Oresteia" another chain of interactions, in which the elite families of Argos, Phokis, Athens, and even Mount Olympos employ the traditional aristocratic relationships of xenia and hetaireia to renegotiate their own status within-and at the pinnacle of-the civic order, and thereby guarantee the renewed prosperity of their respective communities. The capture of Troy is the result of a joint venture by the Atreidai and the Olympian "family" . Although (...) Agamemnon falls victim to his own mishandling of aristocratic privilege, his son is raised by doryxenoi in Phokis , a relationship which is mirrored by that with the Olympian "allies," Hermes and Apollo. Orestes' recovery of his father's position is thus shown to depend upon a network of "guest-friends" and "sworn-comrades," reinforced by the traditional language of oaths and reciprocal loyalty. In the Eumenides, the alliance between the Olympian and Argive royal families is re-invoked as the basis both for Athena's protection of Orestes, and finally for Zeus' concern for his daughter's Athenian dependents. In contrast to this successful "networking," and the resultant benefits that trickle down to the citizens of Argos and Athens, stand the seditious oaths and perverted "comradeship" of Aigisthos and Klytaimestra; likewise, the Erinyes are unable to draw on equivalent claims of pedigree or xenia to those enjoyed by Orestes and Apollo. Like all Greek tragedies, the "Oresteia" presents the action through constantly shifting viewpoints, those of aristocrats and commoners, leaders and led, while the propriety of this hierarchy itself is never questioned. And although the action moves from monarchical Argos to an incipiently democratic Athens, paradoxically we hear less and less about "ordinary," lower-class citizens as the trilogy progresses. Thus, at the same time that the trilogy reinforces the sense of collective survival and civic values , it also suggests that these can be maintained only through the proper interventions of their traditional leaders. Aeschylus' plays were composed during a time when the Athenian democracy was still developing, and elite leadership and patronage were still taken for granted. Attic tragedy and the City Dionysia may be seen as a site of negotiation between rival ideologies within the polis, wherein a kind of "solidarity without consensus" is achieved. Written and staged by the elite under license from the demos, the dramas play out dangerous stories of royal risk-taking, crime, glory, and suffering, in such a way as to reassure the citizen audience simultaneously of their own collective invulnerability, and of the unique value of their leading families. (shrink)

Anonymous, Vita Aeschyli 9 preserves the following startling report concerning Aeschylus: Some say that at the performance of the Eumenides, by bringing on the chorus one by one, as he did, he terrified the audience so that children swooned and fetuses were aborted.

In the surviving plays of Aeschylus and Sophocles the gods appear to men only rarely. In the Eumenides Apollo and Athena intervene to bring acquittal to Orestes. In Sophocles' Philoctetes Heracles appears ex machina to ensure that the hero returns to Troy, and we learn from a messenger how the gods have summoned the aged Oedipus to a hero's tomb. In Sophocles' Ajax Athena drives Ajax mad and taunts him cruelly. Prometheus Bound might seem to be an exception, since (...) all but one of its characters are gods. But nonetheless the intervention of the gods in the life of the one human character, Io, brings pain and trouble as well as promise of benefit. Io has been driven mad because she has refused to obey the dreams that tell her to go to the meadow where Zeus wants to have intercourse with her. The god does not make his request in person, and it is only in the course of her wanderings that Io learns how Zeus will bring a gentle end to her sufferings. Her informant is another god, Zeus' adversary Prometheus, who answers her questions, at times grudgingly , and in ways that are not immediately clear to her. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Thinking Mortal ThoughtsDebra SanThere is something quite odd about the ancient Greek advice to “think mortal thoughts” (or “think of mortal things”), for what human being past the flush of youth has not trembled at the thought of mortality? Consciousness of our mortal condition is considered a hall-mark of the human species, and is no doubt the reason we alone among the species on the planet entertain notions of (...) divinity. Why then are we counseled to think about what we cannot help thinking about anyway? And what purpose does the advice serve: are those who tender it eager to promote their own fearful frame of mind? Or, on the contrary, are they urging us to be courageous in the face of death? Perhaps the advice intended is to eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Or perhaps “mortal thoughts” are suicidal thoughts, and the object is to shuffle off this mortal coil in a manner, time, and place of our own choosing.Clearly, taken out of context, the injunction “think mortal thoughts” can mean any number of things. But in the context of ancient Greek culture, “think mortal thoughts” means roughly this:“Since you are not one of the immortal gods, be mindful of your limits as a human being. Consciousness of the inevitability of your death should inform the way you live your life, for just as your lifespan is limited by your mortality, so too are your capacities for understanding, for action, and for achievement. This is the truth of your condition; if you don’t accept it, you’ll be frustrated at best, and at worst you’ll incur divine wrath and retribution for attempting to push past your proper human boundaries into sacred turf where you don’t belong and aren’t wanted. Don’t trespass. Don’t even think about it. Don’t assume, in a futile exercise of hubris, that you’re a special case whose transgression [End Page 16] (huperbasia) will be exempt from dire consequences. Gnothi sauton, know yourself as a mortal being, and meden agan, do nothing to excess, or you will suffer the fate of Icarus, who aimed too high and died for it, or the fate of Phaethon, who was destroyed by forces which he thought he could control.”The advice presented here echoes throughout classical Greek drama, whose tragic protagonists are the theatrical descendants of Icarus and Phaethon. When Antigone compares herself to Niobe, the Chorus must remind her that “she was a god, born of gods, and we are only mortals born to die” (925–26). 1 In her failure to think mortal thoughts, Antigone resembles her father, whose refusal to acknowledge his limits is so profound that even after mutilating himself in horror at the discovery of his own transgressions, he must still be reminded that he is no longer “the master of all things” (1675). 2 Pentheus in the Bacchae lacks the stature of either Oedipus or Antigone, but like them he has pretensions beyond the limits befitting a mortal; he fails to exercise the “simple wisdom [that] shuns the thoughts of proud, uncommon men and all their god-encroaching dreams” (427–29). 3 In his arrogant and unrealistic attempt to pit his own puny powers against the incomparable force of the immortal Dionysus, Pentheus suffers the fate of those whose hubris overcomes the temperate virtue of sōphrosunē, “the wisdom that accepts” (390). Even the bloodthirsty, pre-Eumenides Furies of the Eumenides accept the limits which moderation entails: they understand that Zeus “appointeth the mean as the master in all things” (531). 4One might expect that this cautionary, temperate strain in Greek thinking would appeal to Aristotle, whose doctrine of the mean in Book II of the Nicomachean Ethics might have come straight out of the Oresteia. And yet, when the caution is expressed in the maxim “think mortal thoughts,” Aristotle rejects it, claiming that human beings should try to aim their thoughts at a level so high it cannot really be reached by mortals, which is to say a level as high as that of the immortal gods, whose contemplative, intellectual activity (theōria) soars far above... (shrink)

Thesmophories à Athènes, une fête exclusivement féminine. Cette analyse permet de montrer comment les femmes interviennent, en contexte rituel, dans le domaine de la délibération politique. Il s’agit d’abord de discuter – à partir de l’analyse comparée de quelques passages des Thesmophories d’Aristophane et des Euménides d’Euripide – les hypothèses formulées par les archéologues sur la localisation de la fête des Thesmophories. Cette fête a en effet été associée à la Pnyx ou à l’Eleusinion ; nous proposons de la placer (...) dans les environs immédiats du lieu de réunion du conseil de l’Aréopage d’Athènes, à l’ouest de l’Acropole, et sur la même colline que l’Aréopage. Il s’agit ensuite de comparer les actes politiques masculins et les rituels féminins décrits à l’occasion de la fête des Thesmophories. L’enjeu est de comprendre si la « délibération » féminine de caractère politico-judiciaire qui est décrite dans la pièce d’Aristophane reflète un possible discours des femmes d’Athènes qui pouvait être perçu comme parallèle ou « similaire » à celui des hommes. En un sens et en prolongeant une étude de Christopher Faraone, il s’agit de savoir si les femmes d’Athènes rendaient effectivement une forme de justice lors de la fête des Thesmophories. Enfin il s’agit d’évoquer les discours alternatifs qui semblent avoir été produits par les femmes dans cet espace situé au cœur civique et politique de la cité. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:A Lex Sacra from SelinousBorimir JordanMichael H. Jameson, David R. Jordan, and Roy D. Kotansky. A Lex Sacra from Selinous. Greek, Roman and Byzantine Monographs, 1993. xii + 171 pp. 3 figs. 19 pls.The sacred law receiving its editio princeps in this monograph was a gift to the Getty Museum whose curator asked the authors to publish it. Since the Museum does not exhibit material of chiefly historical (...) interest, it donated the inscription to the Republic of Italy in 1992. The law is inscribed on the largest lead tablet known to the authors (0.597 x 0.23 x 0.002 m.). The tablet is broken on all sides; its text is written in two columns, A and B, upside down to one another. From the letter forms, and the mention of Zeus Meilichios and the proper name Myskos the authors infer Selinous as the place of provenience. A comparison of the letter forms with those of other inscriptions from the region suggests the mid–fifth century B.C. or slightly earlier as the date of the document. The dialect is a variety of West Greek, agreeing with the language of Megara Nisaia and its colonies. All this is set forth in exemplary fashion in Chapters I and II, along with a transcription and translation of the text accompanied by an extensive commentary with thorough and generally very enlightening discussion of all aspects of the law.The inscription is unlike most sacred laws in that it sets out proper ritual procedure rather than regulating cult finances or the perquisites of officials. The two parts, A and B, share a concern with purification, with A concentrating on sacrifice and giving instructions to a group, while B addresses one person seeking purification. Other rituals mentioned include libations, aspersions, anointing, turning around, and setting out a table and couch, which last the authors interpret as a θεοξενία. These matters and much more are expounded with acuity and a wealth of supporting evidence in Chapters III–VIII, which form the bulk of the book and contain much interesting information more or less closely related to the law. A summary of the evidence assembled in the commentary is followed by a close study of the various rituals (III, IV). After a survey of the supernatural figures, including helpful lists of the cults of Zeus Meilichios, the Tritopatores, et al. (V), the authors investigate the influence of Punic religion on the cult of Zeus Meilichios, and possible connections between the law and curse tablets from Selinous (VII, IX). Overviews of the history of Selinous and of the archaeology of Meilichios' precinct round out the book (VI, VIII).In column A, certain, a new word interpreted by the authors as members of an, are to perform sacrifices to Zeus Eumenes (a new by-name), Meilichios, and the Eumenides before the festival of the Kotytia and the Olympic truce. The most remarkable feature in A is the transformation of "impure" into "pure"Tritopatores. The "impure" receive sacrifices "as heroes"; after purification with wine poured through the roof of a (subterranean?) structure, "as gods." A group's collective ancestors and patrons of procreation, the Tritopatores elsewhere had both national and gentilitial cults without shrines and images. [End Page 326] At Selinous they were the spirits of family members only, not of the citizens as a whole, and had a shrine which is undiscovered as yet. Closely connected with the cult of the Selinountine Tritopatores was that of Zeus Meilichios, a god of purification associated with underworld figures, and usually worshipped in precincts without temples by individuals and groups below the level of the polis. The Selinous text locates Meilichios "in Myskos' " and "in Euthydamos' " which the authors, probably correctly, interpret as "in the plots of."They stress the private, gentilitial aspects of the law in A, drawing a rather sharp distinction between public and private cult. Since the state clearly had an interest in the proper performance of the rites, the authors are at pains to explain the connections between the public and private aspects of the regulations: Myskos and Euthydamos were historical figures and founders of clans having charge of cults which later came to... (shrink)

The importance of determining the exact origin of the trial of Orestes before the Areopagus at the end of Aeschylus's Eumenides has not been fully acknowledged by modern scholars. Through a close scrutiny of the surviving evidences concerning the genealogical book of Pherecydes, the aition of the Choes-festival and the roll of the Twelve Gods in the sphere of mythic history, this article suggests that there is no reason to accept the widespread belief that Aeschylus was the heir of (...) some pre-existent attic tradition. The trial of Orestes before the Athenian court turns out to be Aeschylus' own innovation, used by the poet to convey his new vision of justice. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:A Lex Sacra from SelinousBorimir JordanMichael H. Jameson, David R. Jordan, and Roy D. Kotansky. A Lex Sacra from Selinous. Greek, Roman and Byzantine Monographs, 1993. xii + 171 pp. 3 figs. 19 pls.The sacred law receiving its editio princeps in this monograph was a gift to the Getty Museum whose curator asked the authors to publish it. Since the Museum does not exhibit material of chiefly historical (...) interest, it donated the inscription to the Republic of Italy in 1992. The law is inscribed on the largest lead tablet known to the authors (0.597 x 0.23 x 0.002 m.). The tablet is broken on all sides; its text is written in two columns, A and B, upside down to one another. From the letter forms, and the mention of Zeus Meilichios and the proper name Myskos the authors infer Selinous as the place of provenience. A comparison of the letter forms with those of other inscriptions from the region suggests the mid–fifth century B.C. or slightly earlier as the date of the document. The dialect is a variety of West Greek, agreeing with the language of Megara Nisaia and its colonies. All this is set forth in exemplary fashion in Chapters I and II, along with a transcription and translation of the text accompanied by an extensive commentary with thorough and generally very enlightening discussion of all aspects of the law.The inscription is unlike most sacred laws in that it sets out proper ritual procedure rather than regulating cult finances or the perquisites of officials. The two parts, A and B, share a concern with purification, with A concentrating on sacrifice and giving instructions to a group, while B addresses one person seeking purification. Other rituals mentioned include libations, aspersions, anointing, turning around, and setting out a table and couch, which last the authors interpret as a θεοξενία. These matters and much more are expounded with acuity and a wealth of supporting evidence in Chapters III–VIII, which form the bulk of the book and contain much interesting information more or less closely related to the law. A summary of the evidence assembled in the commentary is followed by a close study of the various rituals (III, IV). After a survey of the supernatural figures, including helpful lists of the cults of Zeus Meilichios, the Tritopatores, et al. (V), the authors investigate the influence of Punic religion on the cult of Zeus Meilichios, and possible connections between the law and curse tablets from Selinous (VII, IX). Overviews of the history of Selinous and of the archaeology of Meilichios' precinct round out the book (VI, VIII).In column A, certain, a new word interpreted by the authors as members of an, are to perform sacrifices to Zeus Eumenes (a new by-name), Meilichios, and the Eumenides before the festival of the Kotytia and the Olympic truce. The most remarkable feature in A is the transformation of "impure" into "pure"Tritopatores. The "impure" receive sacrifices "as heroes"; after purification with wine poured through the roof of a (subterranean?) structure, "as gods." A group's collective ancestors and patrons of procreation, the Tritopatores elsewhere had both national and gentilitial cults without shrines and images. [End Page 326] At Selinous they were the spirits of family members only, not of the citizens as a whole, and had a shrine which is undiscovered as yet. Closely connected with the cult of the Selinountine Tritopatores was that of Zeus Meilichios, a god of purification associated with underworld figures, and usually worshipped in precincts without temples by individuals and groups below the level of the polis. The Selinous text locates Meilichios "in Myskos' " and "in Euthydamos' " which the authors, probably correctly, interpret as "in the plots of."They stress the private, gentilitial aspects of the law in A, drawing a rather sharp distinction between public and private cult. Since the state clearly had an interest in the proper performance of the rites, the authors are at pains to explain the connections between the public and private aspects of the regulations: Myskos and Euthydamos were historical figures and founders of clans having charge of cults which later came to... (shrink)

Nel 2011 il National Theatre di Londra celebrava il trentesimo anniversario della produzione dell’ Oresteia (Agamennon, Choefori e Eumenides) con una grande mostra che raccontava il lungo processo di creazione di uno degli allestimenti più famosi del teatro inglese degli ultimi quarant’anni; si tratta dell’adattamento e della traduzione della Trilogia di Eschilo a opera del poeta e scrittore inglese Tony Harrison, con la regia di Peter Hall (direttore del Teatro Nazionale dal 1973 al 1988) e le scene e le (...) maschere di Jocelyn Herbert. Questa mostra curata da Cathy Courtney, arrivava sette anni dopo la grande esposizione dedicata alla scenografa inglese intitolata Jocelyn Herbert at the National (2004).Il presente saggio racconta il lungo percorso creativo che ha portato alla definizione, oltre che di un’originale traduzione, anche di un particolare allestimento scenico che prevedeva l’uso di maschere per i soli attori uomini, create dalla Herbert, una delle più famose stage designer britanniche. I materiali preparatori sono stati messi a disposizione online negli ultimi anni, grazie a un progetto di digitalizzazione del National Theatre in collaborazione con Google Culture Institute. Proprio alle maschere della Herbert e alle diverse proposte e trattamenti della maschera greca in chiave contemporanea è dedicato un contributo critico finale che le affianca comparativamente sia a quelle del mascheraio e studioso di teatro greco classico Ferdinando Falossi, sia alle maschere video digitali e fotografiche create rispettivamente da Teatrino Giullare e da Marzio Emilio Villa. (shrink)

Considering Butler's "tragic trilogy"-a set of interventions on Sophocles' Antigone, Euripides' Bacchae, and Aeschylus's Eumenides-this book seeks to understand not just how Butler uses and interprets Greek tragedy, but also how tragedy shapes Butler's thinking, even when their gaze is directed elsewhere. Through close readings of these tragedies, this book brings to light the tragic quality of Butler's writing. It shows how Butler's mode of reading tragedy-and, crucially, reading tragically-offers a distinctive ethico-political response to the harrowing dilemmas of our (...) current moment. (shrink)

This essay offers an exegesis and critique of the moment of community formation in Agamben’s Homo Sacer Project. In The Sacrament of Language, Agamben searches for the site of a non-sovereign community founded upon the oath [horkos, sacramentum]: an ancient institution of language that produces and guarantees the connection between speech and the order of things by calling the god as a witness to the speaker’s fidelity. I argue that Agamben’s account ultimately falls short of subverting sovereignty, however, because the (...) sacramentum derives its power, at a fundamental level, from the ‘monothetic’ structure of truth—what Agamben calls ‘the name of God’ [il nome di Dio]. I propose we may yet salvage the oath as a means of subverting sovereignty, however, if we reconsider it in the context of polytheism, where the names of the gods [i nomi degli dei] can be many, while remaining powerful. First, through a reading of Aeschylus’ Eumenides, I argue that the Greeks understood the oath to function even where truth and falsity were inherently undecidable. Second, I argue that if we separate the truth and power functions interwoven in the sacramentum, we find a second formula, the decisory oath, which can be taken in order to produce a community even in the absence of one sovereign truth. As a kind of magical speech, the decisory oath provides the limit conditions for the possibility of distinguishing true from false in the sacramentum, and thus founds it. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Sophocles: AntigoneE. Christian KopffMark Griffith, ed. Sophocles: Antigone. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. xii + 366. Cloth, $64.95; paper, $24.95.Mark Griffith's edition of Sophocles' Antigone is a welcome addition to the Cambridge Greek and Latin Classics. The best volumes in the series, inaugurated by T. B. L. Webster's Philoctetes (1970), enrich the traditional commentary format with the editor's distinctive scholarly concerns: general editor P. E. Easterling's Trachiniae (1982) (...) displays a sensitive literary taste; R. D. Dawe's Oedipus Rex (1982) provides a lively example of a first-rate mind reading a great text, as does Alan Sommerstein's Eumenides (1989); Sommerstein doubts that his play was originally called "Eumenides," while Griffith's Prometheus (1983) gives reasons to question the Aeschylean authorship of Prometheus Vinctus. Griffith's Antigone is less controversial, but it lives up to the series' high standards.The introduction has almost thirty pages of background information on Sophocles and Athens, the myth, dramatic structure, technique, and style, the production of Greek drama, and the transmission of the text. The forty pages on "The Meaning of the Play" contain short essays with bibliography on aesthetics, lessons, characters, ethics, contradictions (human/divine, polis/oikos, male/female), politics, and fantasies. The section on character is especially clear and forceful, but I found the pages on fantasies less focused and their discussion of Freudian criticism, with the rambling footnote on page 60, distracting. Colleagues will learn much from these pages, but students might well skip them and start reading the play.The text is temperately conservative, with good taste displayed when conjectures and variant readings are chosen. The commentary is careful, scholarly, and yet accessible to students. Difficult passages are translated with close attention to particles. The many notes devoted to explicating the nuances of the word reminded me of the story that Denniston was supposedly overheard telling a student, " can sometimes mean 'and.'"Each chorus is accompanied by a metrical description based on a colometry which is often that of R. D. Dawe's Teubner (1985). Griffith's short essays explaining the metrical patterns are usually successful. An exception is his note on [End Page 274] 1115-16/1126-27, which he prints as one long colon, which "could be classified as a kind of 'dragged enoplian'... or as 'acephalous dactylo-epitrite.'... In either case the affiliation to aeolics remains clear" (316). This is the kind of explanation which convinces people that metrics is mumbo-jumbo. Griffith refers to A. M. Dale, Lyric Metres of Greek Drama (Cambridge 1968, 191 n. 3), but Dale's note does not explain why she prefers this colometry over others. The colometry of Lloyd-Jones and Wilson's Oxford Classical Text (1990) is better than Dale's and Griffith's because it is easier to understand (telesillean with resolved first element/ iambic penthemimer) and fits the meter of the rest of the ode. This is also true of the colometry of manuscript L, Laurentianus 32.9 (telesillean/iambic dimeter/telesillean), which I prefer.Griffith usually ignores L's colometry, although for the third stasimon (781-800), the Eros Ode, he agrees with it, including word break at the end of 789/799, and gives a good discussion of the metrical and verbal traits that make the poem a satisfying unity. In other choruses the colometry of manuscript L is superior to that concocted by modern scholars, for example, the second stasimon (582-625), the Ate Ode. At 604-5/615-16, the beginning of the second strophe and antistrophe, Griffith prints glyconic () followed by hipponactean (). L presents these lines as hipponactean and hagesichorean (), an acephalous hipponactean. With modern editors' colometry, the hipponactean is a pendent clausula to the preceding glyconic. Two points noted by Griffith favor the manuscripts. The modern colometry entails word break in both strophe and antistrophe, so that, as Griffith notes (223) "'dovetailing' makes the distinction between 'glyconic' and 'hipponactean' arbitrary." The modern colometry is clearer on paper than in performance. The ancient colometry begins a pattern of increasingly acephalous verses, as noted by Bruno Snell, in Griechische Metrik (Göttingen 1984, 62).More important, as Griffith notes sagaciously: "The basic motif... (shrink)