At the climax of the Myth of Er in Plato’s Republic, the soul of Odysseus chooses to be reincarnated as an ἀπράγμων ἰδιώτης, breaking with Homer’s characterization of Ithaca’s king (620c–d). Previous treatments of Odysseus’ choice have linked it to Socrates’ suggestion that the best course for a philosopher in an imperfect political context is to retreat from his society, as if taking shelter beside a wall (496d). They have also linked it to the discussion of how the philosopher who (...) returns to the cave after gazing on the forms in a society not ready for him to rule will be reviled (517a) despite being the best leader for a city based on justice. This article builds on these intratextual connections by proposing that Plato also exploits the marked language of disaffected fifth-century elites and a pertinent intertext: the Odysseus of the prologue of Euripides’ Philoctetes. Euripides’ Odysseus uses language resembling Plato’s to express his dissatisfaction with how honour is allocated in society, which evokes contemporary debates about rewards and punishments for democracy’s successes and failures. Plato exploits the resonance of this language, but subordinates it to his philosophical purpose. Instead of finding the ἀπράγμων life attractive because of frustration with the distribution of honour, Plato’s Odysseus recognizes the inadequacy of φιλοτιμία more broadly. This signals that the quiet life should be chosen for philosophically sound reasons. The example is intended to inspire Socrates’ ambitious interlocutor during the Myth of Er, Plato’s brother Glaucon. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Anger of Achilles: Mēnis in Greek EpicJenny Strauss ClayLeonard Muellner. The Anger of Achilles: Mēnis in Greek Epic. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996. ix + 219 pp. Cloth, $39.95.At the beginning of Greek literature, and hence the whole classical tradition, stands an enigmatic word: mēnis. Usually translated as "wrath" or "anger," mēnis constitutes the subject of the Iliad, but its precise meaning and implications remain elusive. Muellner's (...) long–awaited study offers a wide–ranging and provocative examination not only of the word itself but of its context and the underlying conceptual universe it presupposes. Observing that words for emotions are not universal and hence must be examined from within a specific cultural milieu, Muellner acknowledges the impasse to which previous semantic and lexicographical studies have led, and he proposes a fresh approach to the study of mēnis within the context of Lord's notions of epic composition by theme. The meaning of mēnis cannot be grasped by focusing narrowly on the individual word, but can only be discovered by examining the thematic complex in which it appears—and even sometimes where it does not appear. Like Nagy and some other scholars, Muellner substantially extends the notion of theme from Lord's "repeated passage with a fair amount of verbal repetition" to a cluster of motifs. (The extension of the "strict" Parryist definition of the formula to the so–called structural formula offers a parallel; at one point Muellner even speaks of "deep structure.") But the thematic complex, whose components may never be exactly the same in its multiple appearances, implies the presence of a unified underlying concept. Muellner's goal is to go "beyond a desire to 'redefine' mēnis" and instead to rebuild "the poetic function of the mēnis theme in the epic tradition" (133).In the first two chapters he examines the instances of mēnis in Homer, including the Homeric Hymns, but excluding occurrences in the first book of the Iliad and references to the mēnis of Achilles.Mēnis scenes do not contain easily recognizable formulas or formulaic sequences, as for instance in arming scenes or even in larger thematic patterns like "the hero returns." The remarkable variety of contexts in which mēnis appears renders the attempt to discover a common denominator elusive, especially since Muellner begins his investigation obliquely, with a scene in which the word mēnis does not even occur. In the course of his investigation, he offers a series of definitions of the compositional theme of mēnis: it involves "a cosmic sanction... a social force whose activation brings drastic consequences on the whole community," and it "is incurred by the breaking of basic religious or social tabus" that lead to the indiscriminate punishment of the whole community or social group (8). Even more abstract is his [End Page 631] statement that mēnis is "the irrevocable cosmic sanction that prohibits some characters from taking their superiors for equals and others for taking their equals for inferiors" (31).The fundamental rules which govern behavior and whose violation provokes mēnis are the themistes that regulate interaction vertically between hierarchical groups (gods and men) and horizontally between, say, members of the same social group. An easily recognizable category of actions that unleash mēnis occurs when human beings try to act like gods either on the battlefield or by sleeping with goddesses. Likewise the themistes involving hospitality, ransom, supplication, or the treatment of beggars are founded on fundamental notions of status, exchange, and reciprocity, all sanctioned by Zeus. As Muellner summarizes: "when a person dies, or a hero surpasses himself, or a god ignores the rank of another god, or a goddess sleeps with a mortal, or a king rejects an offer of exchange, the value of a person and the continuity of the world is at stake because the hierarchy of persons based on the themistes of exchange is being breached" (51). Yet not all such violations elicit mēnis or indiscriminate punishment. Sometimes nothing happens: for instance, not all rejected supplications provoke mēnis. Leaving the dead unburied is clearly tabu, but Muellner's attempt... (shrink)

The volumes published in the series "Beiträge zur Altertumskunde" comprise monographs, collective volumes, editions, translations and commentaries on various topics from the fields of Greek and Latin Philology, Ancient History, Archeology, Ancient Philosophy as well as Classical Reception Studies. The series thus offers indispensable research tools for a wide range of disciplines related to Ancient Studies.

At the climax of the quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon in the Iliad, Achilles ponders whether to kill the king (1.191). The first half of the line, however, has received little attention, but the various interpretations that have been put forth have been unconvincing. This article proposes an interpretation that reveals an Achilles at least momentarily contemplating fomenting a revolt on the part of the army against Agamemnon's authority.

The meaning of κερτομω and its congeners in Homer has been the subject of debate in this journal. Jones has argued that ‘to κερτομω someone is to speak in such a way as to provoke a powerful emotional reaction’, whether of anger or fear, and thus means ‘“to utter stinging words at [someone]”, “pierce to the heart”, “cut to the quick”, rather than merely “provoke” This definition seems to work well enough for some cases, but certainly not for all, and (...) especially not for the passage from which the whole controversy began: Iliad 24.649, where Achilles speaks to Priam ༐πικερτομέωυ. As Richardson says in his Iliad commentary, ‘there is no sign that Akhilleus’ speech has this direct effect [i.e. arouses fear] on Priam’. Jones's article was responding to an earlier one by J. T. Hooker, who attempted to ascertain the sense of Achilles’ ༐πικερτομέυ by surveying the usage of kertom- words throughout Homeric epic. He concluded that the basic meaning is ‘to taunt’ or, more abstractly, it ‘indicates the provocation of another person into behaving in a certain way, whether that is the behaviour desired by the speaker… or is not desired by the speaker’. The problem was that this definition did not seem to fit the very line from which his inquiry began, the words of Achilles to Priam. Hooker then hypothesized that the verse betrayed signs of an ‘imperfect adaptation’ of a different version of the poem in which Achilles taunted a defeated enemy or perhaps preserved his grudge against Agamemnon to its end. This explanation is unpersuasive. (shrink)

Die Wahrscheinlichkeitstheorie von v. Mises hat den Aschein empirisch zu sein, ist es aber in Wirklichkeit nicht. Wie soll man denn empirisch feststellen können, daß man es mit einer regellosen Folge zu tun hat? Niemals können wir empirisch feststellenn, daß eine gegebene Folge ohne irgendwelche Regelmäßigkeit ist. Andererseits müßte hervorgehoben werden, daß z.B. der Physik und der Biologie mehr mit einem Wahrscheinlichkeitsschema gedient wäre, das mit voneinander abhängigen Ereignissen rechnet. Die meist als Grundlage angenommene,,Unabhängigkeit“ entspricht nicht den Erfahrungen, die uns (...) die Natur darbietet. Ein Naturprozeß kann nicht aIs eine Serie von untereinander Unabhängigen Würfen (Münzen, Würfel etc.) aufgefaßt werden, man muß vielmehr denken an das Weiterrollen eines Würfels, wobei z.B., nachdem,die Eins sichtbar wurde, die Sechs nicht unmittelbar folgen kann. Es kann zwar eine andere Würfelseite sichtbar werden, aber die eine ist eben ausgeschlossen. (shrink)

"Annual General Meeting Members Lunch." Ethos: Official Publication of the Law Society of the Australian Capital Territory, (202), pp. 17.

Before Odysseus and his companions cross over to the land of the Cyclopes, they land on an island, which is described in unusual length and detail. It is inhabited only by wild goats; no hunters disturb them. It possesses neither flocks nor cultivated land, sown or ploughed, since no men live there. The Cyclopes, while nearby, have no ships, nor are there shipwrights who might build ships on which men travel to every city. The island could be made to flourish, (...) for the soil is rich and would bear all things in season. In addition, it contains well-watered meadows, good for vineyards, and a fine protected harbour which requires no mooring. (shrink)

Privilege brings obligations – noblesse oblige. Boyle came from a deeply privileged background. If we are to locate him through twentieth-century eyes in order to rediscover his psychic space, then this background needs to be borne in mind. It was a constant shaping force for him. Twentieth-century eyes mean a new perspective. As Eliot wrote of Pascal, Boyle's contemporary, ‘every generation sees preceding ones differently. Pascal is one of those writers who will be, and who must be, studied afresh by (...) men in every generation. It is not he who changes, but we who change. It is not our knowledge of him that increases, but our world that alters and our attitudes towards it’ – and so it is with Boyle.Boyle's childhood was beset by tragedy. From a psychological point of view, there can be fewer worse tragedies than the premature loss of a mother. His mother died of consumption when he was three. She was forty-two and he was her fourteenth and penultimate child. It seems clear that this early loss haunted him for the rest of his life, its unconscious effect always there. At some level he may have felt partly responsible for her death – that his birth had helped to wear her out, to finish her off, to consume her. It would seem that he missed out on mourning in the conventional sense, or rather in the sense that Freud emphasized as being all-important in his paper ‘Mourning and Melancholia’. Boyle did use, in his autobiographical writing as ‘Philaretus’, the word ‘disaster’ to describe this early tragedy, and it is a powerful enough word in the context. But what happened to his grief? Was it worked through? Was it lived with? Or was it just sublimated into his work, his wide range of preoccupations? Was it something that remained as a constant, underlying refrain in his life, that he needed to defend himself against? (shrink)

"AGM members lunch." Ethos: Official Publication of the Law Society of the Australian Capital Territory, (198), pp. 13.