Traces of Power: Recent Books on Women in Antiquity

<p><b>The religious experience of women in ancient Greece is a difficult reality to uncover. There is very little in the way of epigraphical and historiographical evidence that preserves the voice of women themselves and our evidence is heavily defined by the male authors of the time. This issue of inadequate evidence is further problematised when one is to consider the rare and extreme cases of violence performed by women within a ritual context. The traditional methodological approaches to these violent cases have often understood women via these ideologically androcentric accounts which tend to reduce the actions of women to aberrant and scandalously extreme outliers, unwelcome in their polis communities.</b></p> <p>This thesis aims to add to the existing corpus of methodological approaches by proposing a new lens for the interpretation of women’s violent ritual practices, one that attempts to re-legitimise the violent rituals of women as necessary components of their poleis and authentic aspects of women’s ritual reality. This lens understands that ritual violence might be best understood as a ‘rupture’ to the social fabric that encircles the institution of religious practice. Building on the valuable framework of the traditional ‘functionalist’ approach to women in religion, the theoretical schema proposed in this thesis synthesises two pre-existing methodologies. Barbara Goff’s lens of an ideological theory of agency proposed in her 2004 publication Citizen Bacchae, combined with Pierre Brulé’s ‘safety-valve theory’ of religion in his 2003 work Women of Ancient Greece, come together to accept that women could exercise agency within their ritual spaces in a way that served to reconcile their own subjugated position in society. When the agency exceeds the expectations of the androcratic polis (who administer the tangible aspects of ritual practice), however, the evidence of male unease directed toward these violent cases indicates that something more than simple female agential activity is taking place. Women’s violence in ritual, therefore, might be considered an agentially forced widening of the safety-valve boundaries, here defined as a ‘rupture’. By interpreting women’s ritual violence by way of a ‘rupture’ to the safety-valve, we stand to re-legitimise the rare and extraordinary violent rituals of women.</p>

Ancient Greek women and their relationship to the visual arts are here discussed solely on the evidence of the extant monuments, rather than on the information of the literary sources. Although this review makes no attempt to be complete, several forms of the relationship are explored. The most important is that of women as sponsors of architectural projects; second is that of women as dedicators of statues and other offerings. Finally, the objects meant to be used by women, or those that represent them, are included, although the men of the family might have been responsible for the commission and the funding. The survey follows a chronological arrangement.

What activities did the women of ancient Greece perform in the sphere of ritual, and what were the meanings of such activities for them and their culture? By offering answers to these questions, this study aims to recover and reconstruct an important dimension of the lived experience of ancient Greek women. A comprehensive investigation of the ritual roles of women in ancient Greece, it draws on a wide range of evidence from across the Greek world–including literary and historical texts, inscriptions, and vase paintings–to assemble a portrait of women as religious and cultural agents, despite the ideals of seclusion within the home and exclusion from public arenas that we know restricted their lives. As the author builds a picture of the extent and diversity of women's ritual activity, she shows that women were entrusted with some of the most important processes by which the community guaranteed its welfare. She examines the ways in which women's ritual activity addressed issues of sexuality and civic participation, showing that ritual could offer women genuinely alternative roles and identities, even while it worked to produce wives and mothers who functioned well in this male-dominated society. Moving to more speculative analysis, the author discusses the possibility of a women's subculture focused on ritual, and investigates the significance of ritual in women's poetry and in vase paintings that depict women. She also includes a substantial exploration of the representation of women as ritual agents in fifth-century Athenian drama.

The study of ancient Greece is essential for the proper understanding of the evolution of modern Western medicine. An important innovation of classical Greek medicine was the development of a body of medical theory associated with natural philosophy, i.e. a strong secular tradition of free enquiry, or what would now be called "science" (Eπiστnμη). Medical education rests upon the ancient Greek foundations and its history remains a fascinating topic for modern physicians and medical teachers. As Drabkin so eloquently noted half a century ago: "the history of medical education will show how lasting was the influence of the ancient system of medicine, not only in its substantive contributions, but in its devotion to reason, in its attitude toward the relation between science and the medical art, in its concept of disease and classification of diseases, in its ethical attitudes and standards and in countless other ways".1 MEDICAL EDUCATION THROUGH "MAGIC" AND "RELIGION" In prehistoric times, magic and religion were a fundamental part of the healing practice. Therefore, the first primitive medical practitioners were witch doctors or sorcerers. Through a gradual process that lasted for centuries, superstition and religion were replaced by rational inquiry and explanation. At its beginnings, ancient Greek medicine was undoubtedly influenced by neighbouring regions such as Babylonia and Egypt or even more distant civilizations such as India and China.2 As medical practice was tied to magic and religion, so too was medical education symbolized in myth. Thus, the first Greek medical teacher was probably Chiron (Xípωv), the human-horse mythological figure. According to Homer, Chiron taught Asclepius the secrets of the drugs that relieve pain and stop bleeding. Chiron was so famous in his era that the sons of many noble families, including Jason (Iáσovαò), Achilles (Aχiλληαò) and other Homeric heroes, became his apprentices and lived with him during early adolescence studying philosophy and the sciences, including medical arts. Among his teachings the "techni" (τéχvη) (art) of caring for the ill and injured was included.3 Asclepius (Aσκληπióδ) was the God of Medicine in Ancient Greece and he was worshiped in hundreds of temples (Asclepions) throughout Greece. The remains of such shrines may still be seen at Epidaurus (Eπíδαvpoò), Cos (Kώ;ò), Athens (Aθηvα), and elsewhere. Asclepions (Aσκληπieíα) were founded at the 6th century B.C. and served as mysticistic centers of medical education for selected "godly blessed" priests. Patients visiting these sacred sanctuaries were treated by a healing ritual known as incubation, or temple sleep. They slept overnight in the dormitory, or abaton (áβατo), and were visited in their dreams by Asclepius and his daughters Hygeia and Panacea or by one of his priests, who gave them divine advice and inspiration. They reported their dreams to a priest the next morning. The pilgrims were either spontaneously healed or the priest prescribed a cure based on their dream. Evidently, the temple healers relied largely on the use of psychological methods, i.e. suggestion through the use of charms, rituals and incantations, but they also employed physical means, some if which were genuinely efficient. Thus, the temple patients were also offered hydrotherapy and enjoyed theatre, music, poetry and a good diet. It must be emphasized that the temple physicians of Asclepions differed from lay medical practitioners and there is no evidence that they acted as tutors to lay physicians. Patients who visited the Asclepions and treated by the ritual therapeutics were usually cases that were given up as incurable by lay medicine.4 Asclepius' legacy was bequeathed by his sons and students Podaleirius (IIoδαλpípeioò) (Internist) and Machaon (Mαχαóv) (Military surgeon) who also appeared in the homeric epics (8th century B.C.). It is notable how the passing of medical knowledge from generation to generation in Ancient Greece is so characteristically reflected in the Asclepius' family. Even Aclepius' father, Apollo, was originally considered the God of Medicine before inheriting his mantle to his sons. With the passage of time, the influence of superstition and religion on medicine steadily decreased until the boundary of rationality and magic was demarcated by the arrival of Hippocrates' rational medicine.5 However, it appears that, despite the occasional competitive bouts between these different types of healers, the Asclepian temple physicians generally existed side by side, in uneasy proximity, throughout the centuries with the Hippocratics until the formers' practice was eventually perceived as a pagan rite and thus rejected by early Christianity. MEDICAL "CRAFTSMEN" AND THE MENTORING OF MEDICINE IN ANCIENT GREECE The division between medicine as a "science" and medicine as an "art" is an ancient one. The ancient Greeks frequently contrasted the non-scientific practitioner to the theoretically grounded physician/philosopher. According to Plato, a medical apprenticeship that was based only on observation and experience was routine and impersonal in comparison to those physicians who strived to make the understanding of nature fundamental to their art and teaching.6 It appears that the majority of medical practitioners did not concern themselves with biological theories and philosophy. However, the few that did care about the nature of health and the underlying anatomic and physiological changes behind a particular disease, were considered the leaders of their profession.5 Greek doctors usually practiced privately but were occasionally employed by a city-state as public health officers who treated citizens without charge. These state-salaried physicians were supported by a special tax called "iatrikon" (Iαtpiκóv) and sometimes received additional benefits including tax reductions, free pass to recreational centres and statues erected in their honour. Such state participation in citizen health care is evidenced throughout antiquity and began as early as the 6th century B.C. However, no evidence exists that these civic physicians were involved in medical education or that special taxes like the "iatrikon" were used to finance public medical education. Various texts from the Hippocratic Collection help us understand Greek medical practice during the antiquity. A surprisingly large part of medical practice of that period seems to reflect the physician's insecure position. Thus, a good diagnostician aimed to impress the patient and win his confidence. The practice of prognosis was also an important proof of competence and a valuable psychological tool in gaining the patients' trust. On the other hand, physicians tended to decline cases that were obviously incurable in order to avoid any loss of reputation. To ensure that physicians would not amass too much wealth, they were advised to adjust their fees to each patient's means and, when necessary, treat them without payment. While some doctors were permanent residents in a particular city, a large number travelled from place to place searching for a living in response to the demand for doctors and seeking to possess intimate knowledge of the ailments peculiar to each region.5 No system of formal medical education or any curriculum program that issued diplomas to successful medical students existed in the classical antiquity. Even the first centres of medical excellence such as Cos and Cnidos and, later on, the museum of Alexandria (Aλεξávδpiα) did not provide any legally recognized certification or formal system of teaching. On the other hand, physicians who were associated with one of the major medical schools were probably more in demand compared to their less prestigiously educated peers. The passing on of knowledge through mentoring was highly regarded in the Greek antiquity from as early as Homer's (Oμηpoò) time.7 Accordingly, medical knowledge was bequeathed from father to son or to the physician's assistant via a master-apprentice relationship: the apprentice learned by observing and assisting his master curing patients.8 Such medical education was fundamentally practical. The student learned to take detailed medical history from the patient, his relatives or friends, catalogue observable regularities, and accordingly formulate rational hypotheses, explanations and treatments. He was trained to properly use his senses of observation, hearing, smelling, palpating and carefully examine the patient's pains, mental state, position in bed, fever, breathing, and excretions (urine, feces and sweats). The patient's pulse was also examined but its profound diagnostic significance was not elaboratively catalogued at these times. Practical experience was an essential component of the medical craft taught to the apprentice. As was noted in the Hippocratic texts: "He who aspires to practice surgery must go to war". A competent student would also attend the patient as a nurse in serious cases. Good students would complement such practical work with the study of books (e.g. the Hippocratic Collection, Dioskorides' book of herbals and drug preparation) in order to combine knowledge with experience and obtain self confidence and autonomy. The quality of training depended on the master's skills and the student's prowess. The length of education depended on the depth of the apprentice's studies and on his intellectual skills and competence.1 In theory, medical training was open to every man. Of course, the aspiring physician required a master willing to train him and the successful medical protégée required certain characteristics, including above-average intelligence and a firm grasp of reality. But in principle, the pursuit of medical knowledge in ancient Greece was unrestrained. Evidently, medical practice retained a very "free market" approach throughout the ancient world. The Babylonians characteristically presented their sick at the market place in search of those persons who could advise and/or treat the disease. In line with this attitude, no legally recognized method existed to prevent amateur and inadequately trained physicians or various kinds of quacks from practicing in Greek antiquity. One established himself as a doctor not by presenting his training certifications but by vigorously defending the reputation he acquired in practice and by carefully cultivating the confidence of his clients. The physicians' fierce competition with other healers, his conscience, and the patient's demands for efficacy were his only restrictions and incentives for self-improvement. The only possible evidence of completed medical training and qualification may have been the Hippocratic Oath, as well as attendance to one of the major medical schools. It may be strange that the ancient Greek civilization, with all its sophistication, failed to establish any means of protection from ignorant and potentially dangerous physicians. But one needs to remember the distinct features of ancient Greece that could explain why this system persisted and even how it could work adequately for so many centuries. The Greek region was literally fragmented into hundreds of independent city-states and this hindered any possible attempt of a unified professional evaluation policy. Therefore the ancients had to rely on the self-policing apprentice system by which Greek medical education was organized. Each of the masters, who were successful and experienced physicians, would take care in recruiting, selecting and training their apprentices and carefully monitor their progress to ensure the quality of their education, which was important to reputation of the master as well as the student. THE ROOTS OF RATIONAL MEDICINE First medical schools The first medical schools were founded in Greece and in the Southern Italy (Magna Grecia) regions of Sicily and Calabria. In the classical antiquity, medical "schools" were essentially schools of thought formed by an influential medical practitioner and his followers. There were no academic buildings dedicated to medical training. The "school" was essentially realized wherever its adherents would gather. With the coming of the 5th century B.C. the most famous of such centers were Cos, where Hippocrates (Iππoκpáτηò) was born, and Cnidus, situated just opposite of Cos on Asia Minor. These ancient Greek states developed medical schools that served as hallmarks of medical education. The doctors associated with these schools shared knowledge and certain medical practices; medical students retained a master-apprentice relation with their teachers and observed their masters treating diseases and prescribing measures such as good diet, exercise, and herbal remedies. Aspiring surgeons were trained as assistants to a military surgeon accompanying troops on a campaign. The instruction was of course very informal and there was no established certificate of the student's right to practice.1 Hippocratic medicine Hippocrates was born in about 460 B.C. on the island on Cos, an island of the coast of Asia Minor in the Dodecanese (Δωδεκávησα), where he developed his immensely influential rational school bringing about the transition from empiricism to scientific medicine in antiquity. During his lifetime, Hippocrates was undoubtedly the most renowned physician and teacher of medicine. Soranus stated that Hippocrates traced his descent and medical knowledge from his father Heraclidos (Hpáκλεiδoò) and Asclepius. He practiced medicine in his birthplace of Cos but also ventured in other parts of Greece including Athens, Sicily, Alexandria, Cyrine and Cyprus; he died in Thessaly at an advanced age in about 377 B.C. Although Hippocrates is widely considered the father of medicine and well-known scribes such as Plato and Aristotle have documented a number his achievements, there is little knowledge about his actual life and biography. There is even a possibility that Hippocrates was actually not one but many men of the same name.9 Whether Hippocrates was one man or several, the works attributed to him mark the stage in Greek medicine where physicians were encouraged to offer rational explanations concerning the cause and character of disease and health, instead of superstition and magic. Hippocrates' rational medicine was notably based on common sense and substituted divine intervention in favour of a profound, practical philosophy. Hippocrates is thought to have originated the concept of the "four humours" (plegm, yellow bile, black bile and blood) in medical physiology. The humoural doctrine stated that good health was the result of the harmonious equilibrium and blending of the four humours. Thus, disease was explained as the consequence of humoural imbalance. Relative excess of each humour resulted in particular personality types. An abundance of blood, yellow bile, black bile or phlegm was respectively associated with the sanguine, phlegmatic, choleric and melancholic temperaments. Hippocratic medicine notably emphasized maximum conservation in all medical treatments according to the famous Hippocratic motto: "to help or at least to do no harm". Hippocrates put more emphasis on diet and recommended a restricted use of drugs, which is to be expected if one considers that the rational medical use of herbs required a thorough systemization of the botanical world that would only be achieved a century after Hippocrates' death by Theophrastus (Teófpασtoò). Hippocrates also knew well how to describe a disease clearly and concisely and recorded treatment outcomes, both failures as well as successes.9 He also introduced the first concepts of medical ethics contained in the Hippocratic oath which still serves as the ethical nucleus of today's physicians.10 Hippocratic medicine gave emphasis on the patient rather than the disease and concentrated on experience and on the visual aspect of observation rather than theory. On the other hand, Cos' rival school, Cnidus, focused on a reductionist conception of disease, similar to the modern approach. However, Hippocrates' school achieved more wealth and recognition because it focused on the patient, while the school of Cnidus concentrated on studying the disease in the absence of the necessary technical instruments and general scientific infrastructure that could carry out its ideas the School of Cnidus ceased to exist, whereas that of Hippocrates flourished. The conflicting philosophies of medical education and the different interpretations of the nature of medicine (medicine as science versus medicine as art) raged on for several centuries until the unifying influence of Galen's (ταληvóò) (129-200 A.D.). Theories and research became the standard system that was passed on to later ages all the way to the 16th century. Medical education through the Hippocratic collection It is possible that Hippocrates was the author of only some, or even none, of the texts that comprise the Hippocratic Collection (Corpus Hippocraticum), a compilation of over 70 medical treatises that are traditionally attributed to him. Hippocrates' students and his two sons, Thessalus and Draco, were the successors of the Hippocratic tradition and a large part of the Hippocratic Collection, including the Oath, was written by them. The Hippocratic tradition became the accepted standard for medical education and these texts were taught in universities throughout most of the ancient West and during the Renaissance until the 19th century. The Hippocratic collection contained a series of aphorisms, among which is the well-known "Life is brief, art is long, opportunity is fleeting, experience is fallacious, judgement is difficult" (often shortened to the Latin tag, "Ars longa, vita brevis"). These passages are the foundation of Hippocrates' philosophy and lay much stress to careful, repetitious thought before a medical intervention. Such aphorisms are followed by case histories, summary accounts of the climatic conditions, brief comments on diseases, symptoms and prognostic indications, many of which remain valid.9 Post-Hippocratic era In the following century the work of Aristotle (Apτστéληò), regarded as the first great biologist, incalculably influenced medicine. Aristotle was a student of Plato at Athens and tutor to Alexander the Great (Mέγας Aλέξαvδρoς). His interests and studies included the entire world of living things. He was the founder of comparative anatomy and embryology and his work influenced scientific and medical thinking for the next 2 millennia.5 Following Aristotle's time, the centre of Greek culture shifted to the Egyptian city of Alexandria. The famous medical school of Alexandria was established in about 300 BC and replaced Cos and Cnidos as the foremost centre of medical excellence. Its two founders and best medical teachers were Herophilus (Eρóφιλoς), who is known as the first anatomist in history, and Erasistratus (Eρασίστρατoς), whom some regard as the founder of physiology. Medical studies at this great school were based on a more professional tutorship by its renowned teachers supplemented by practical apprenticeship under one of these physicians. Thus, the earlier periods' master-apprentice relationship was gradually replaced by that of professor-student. Due to this notable change in the character of medical education, large numbers of students were tutored by fewer professors. This university atmosphere did not in itself preclude clinical instruction and bedside teaching. It did however introduce a new non-professional direction for medical education in the sense that some students studied biology and medicine not for the purposes of professional practice but as part of scientific and philosophic exploration. This division of studies probably depended on each student's social status, with the more wealthy protégées generally preferring to focus on an academic approach to medicine. There were also certain individuals who studied almost every possible subject matter (polymaths). Such an endeavour to encompass all knowledge would have been incompatible with a busy medical practice. The tripartite division of medical education can be seen from as early as Aristotle's time described as "the physician who is a craftsman, the scientific physician, and the man who has studied medicine as part of his education".1 The museum of Alexandria continued as a centre of medical teaching even after the Roman Empire had attained supremacy over the Greek world. The medical education of women Women in Greek antiquity avoided examination and treatment from male physicians, a fact that often hindered successful treatment. This should not come as a surprise considering that ancient Greek women were taught from a young age to be ashamed of their bodies. Before the 5th century B.C. childbirth was almost exclusively entrusted to female kin and neighbours who had themselves given birth. Some of these women stood out because of their skills and became known by the title of "maia" (Mαία) or "midwife". Most midwife practitioners were usually trained from other midwives. The story of Agnodice (Aγvoδίκη), who according to myth was the first female to achieve the role of physician despite this being forbidden by law, has been cited by many Western midwives during the Renaissance in an attempt to medicalize childbirth. It seems that there were women in ancient Greece who studied medicine serving alongside leading male physicians and practiced obstetrics and gynaecology. As of yet there are few data regarding the involvement of women in general medical practice other than gynaecology.1,5,11 CONCLUSION Medical education in ancient Greece closely mirroring the evolution of ancient Greek though originates from magic and religion which is gradually superseded by more objective and leading to the Hippocratic rational medicine that with the of of ancient medical education such as the reputation system of medical education and practice may be peculiar But on these ancient can also the fundamental concepts that to modern practice. In a world that was by the first great medical schools a more ethical practice to their students and these were and by the today's medicine. than two to the of modern medical education.

Previous articleNext article No AccessReview EssaySappho and Her Sisters: Women in Ancient GreeceMarilyn A. KatzMarilyn A. Katz Search for more articles by this author PDFPDF PLUS Add to favoritesDownload CitationTrack CitationsPermissionsReprints Share onFacebookTwitterLinkedInRedditEmail SectionsMoreDetailsFiguresReferencesCited by Signs Volume 25, Number 2Winter, 2000 Article DOIhttps://doi.org/10.1086/495449 Views: 115Total views on this site Citations: 1Citations are reported from Crossref Copyright 2000 The University of ChicagoPDF download Crossref reports the following articles citing this article:V. Spike Peterson Sex Matters, International Feminist Journal of Politics 16, no.33 (Jul 2014): 389–409.https://doi.org/10.1080/14616742.2014.913384

BOOK REVIEWS/COMPTES RENDUS 181 and Italian), but because—with the exception of the “mask” of the “furious mother”— the similarity between dogs and women in ancient Greece is not confined to qualities attributed to female dogs (bitches) as such. Rather, it is dogs as a class that are culturally gendered as feminine, in structural opposition to the “masculinity” of wild beasts such as the wolf (142–153). (One might compare the modern English construction of cats as “feminine” as opposed to the “masculine” dog.) This makes perfect sense, yet “bitch” keeps intruding, starting with the dust jacket, which asserts, bafflingly, that in ancient Greece “the word bitch” was “exclusively figured as female.” In the book itself, “she-dog” and “bitch” sometimes appear on the same page in a way that seems arbitrary (e.g., 125). And what are we to make of “bitchiness” and “bitchy” on 153? The word and its cognates would have been better avoided entirely. Such quibbles aside, Shameless not only translates but supersedes the Italian original. It has been significantly updated and revised, and also sports a substantial new Appendix. This explains the project’s genesis and methodology and provides a valuable introduction to the field of animal studies, with a useful survey of the relevant scholarly literature (including the decade subsequent to the Italian edition). Much of this is introductory in a methodological sense, and as such will be of great interest to classicists (and others) who may be entering this burgeoning subfield for the first time. I wish, in fact, that Franco had used this material to create a new introduction to the book, relegating just the survey of literature to the Appendix. That would have been a more effective way to invite her readers into the world of animal studies and locate this particular project in its larger intellectual framework. The English edition does, however, have a new Preface. Here Franco explains that she has eschewed the “British and American” practice of “setting out one’s thesis statements at the head of the work,” in favor of the allegedly Italian practice of presenting one’s hypothesis as a “riddle,” making the path to the conclusion “both more enjoyable and more informative” (vii–viii). Disoriented readers are therefore advised to start with the Conclusion. But this is completely unnecessary, even for a died-in-the-wool AngloAmerican like myself. The argument is perfectly clear from the outset (even in the Italian edition), and the structure of the book will pose no obstacle to Anglophone readers. I very much hope that no reader is deterred by the oddly defensive tone of this Preface. Shameless is an exceptional book that should be read not only by students of gender and/or animal studies, but by anyone with a scholarly interest in ancient Greek cultural history or literature. The University of California Press is to be applauded for making this remarkable and ground-breaking work available to an Anglophone audience. University of Washington Ruby Blondell Death to Tyrants! Ancient Greek Democracy and the Struggle against Tyranny. By David A. Teegarden. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press. 2014. Pp. xiv, 261. In this study, David Teegarden examines the ancient Greek legislation on tyrannicide . Beginning with the observation that the number of democracies increased during the classical and early hellenistic periods, he concludes that pro-democratic agents had developed effective methods to sustain local democratic regimes over time and identifies tyrant-killing legislation as one of their core measures. By encouraging bold individuals 182 PHOENIX to kill (potential) tyrants and by convincing others that such actions were acceptable, the laws and decrees against tyrants facilitated mobilization in the face of anti-democratic threats. To verify these assumptions, Teegarden analyzes six cases: tyrant-killing laws from Athens, Eretria, and Ilion, the Anti-Tyranny Dossier from Eresos and the Philites Stele from Erythrai. Unquestionably, an up-to-date study of tyrant-killing legislation was necessary. The last contribution to this subject by Hans Friedel was published in 19371 and two relevant inscriptions have been discovered since then. Moreover, while Friedel locates the tyrantkilling laws within the broader context of anti-tyranny discourses in ancient Greece, Teegarden recreates the historical and...

1. Introduction Part I Redefining the Field 2. Black Feminist Thought and Classics 3. Feminist Theory, Historical Periods, Literary Canons and the Study of Greco-Roman Antiquity Part II Male Writing Female 4. Finding the Female in Roman Poetry 5. Film Theory and the Gendered Voice in Seneca Part III Gynocentrics 6. Women and Language in Archaic Greece 7. Using Native American Models for the Study of Women in Ancient Greece 8. Out of the Closet and into the Field Part IV Material Culture 9. The Case for not Ignoring Marx in the Study of Women in Antiquity 10. Feminist Research in Classical Arcaeology 11. The Ethnographer's Dilemma and the Dream of a Lost Golden Age

Reviewed by: Women in Ancient Greece: A Source-book by Bonnie MacLachlan Lydia Matthews Bonnie MacLachlan. Women in Ancient Greece: A Source-book. Bloomsbury Sources in Ancient History. London: Continuum Books, 2012. Pp. xii + 232. US$39.95. ISBN 978144117930. MacLachlan provides a new addition to the growing range of sourcebooks catering to undergraduate courses on women’s lives in the ancient Mediterranean.1 Most of this volume is dedicated to ten chapters setting out the evidence for the lives of Greek women in the Classical period (Part 2). These chapters are flanked by four chapters on women in the Archaic period (Part 1), and one on Hellenistic women (Part 3). Following each chapter is a list of suggestions for further reading. [End Page 97] In Chapters 1–4 we are introduced first to a brief selection of sources from Hesiod, then to passages from the Homeric hymns to Aphrodite and Demeter. Chapters 3 and 4, “Women Divine and Mortal in the Homeric Epics” and “Women and Gender in the Melic and Lyric Poets,” are each much longer than the preceding ones, and the space given over to the selections from Alcman, Sappho, Alcaeus, Ibycus, Anacreon, Archilochus, Hipponax, and Semonides in Chapter 4 is well used. Next MacLachlan turns to the Classical period, introducing the reader to this by way of a long chapter (5), “The Lived Experiences of Girls and Women.” MacLachlan opens by acknowledging the difficulties that scholars encounter in locating contemporary evidence, and few readers will be altogether satisfied by the assurance that later sources are useful because “patterns of social behaviour are slow to change, particularly when reinforced by ritual.” Thus, a great deal of the epigraphic material that is presented in Part 2 is Hellenistic, and likewise many of the literary sources are either Hellenistic or Roman. The material is arranged thematically, detailing the experiences of childbirth, nubile women, married life, wool-working, pregnancy, concubines, wife abuse, adultery, lower-class women, slave women, older women, and women’s roles in death and funerals. Chapter 6, “Women and Property,” records the management of women’s dowries and women’s performance of financial transactions. MacLachlan contrasts a passage of Isaeus, noting the legal prohibition against women performing transactions involving sums greater than a medimnus, with passages from Lysias and Demosthenes describing women doing exactly that. This arrangement nicely illustrates some of the problems associated with taking statements in ancient sources about what women were or were not allowed to do under the law as reflecting the reality of lived experience. Chapter 7 deals with foreign women, with much of it given over to texts relating to Aspasia of Miletus. Chapter 8 collects sources on prostitutes and deals with a number of women in some detail, notably Rhodopis/Doricha (in Herodotus and Sappho)2 and Neaera (Apollodorus). Chapter 9 addresses the religious life of women at various stages in the female life cycle: rituals for young girls, for nymphae, marriage rituals, and rituals for women. Chapter 10 looks at women in the tragic and comic poets and is followed by a chapter called “Dorian Women,” the heading under which the women of Sparta and Gortyn in Crete are discussed. The extracts from the Gortyn law code are chosen to illustrate the liberal treatment of the women of this city in contrast to those of Athens. Here cross-references to the comparative Athenian material would have proved very valuable. The final three chapters of Section 2 are devoted to Platonic and Aristotelian discussions of women’s roles in the ideal state, warrior women (the Amazons, Telesilla, and Artemisia), and finally the female body in the writers of the Hippocratic corpus, Aeschylus, Plato, and Aristotle. [End Page 98] The final chapter of the book, “Women in the Hellenistic Era” (Part 3), contains a wide variety of interesting sources. Amongst these are marriage contracts from Ptolemaic Egypt, curse tablets, a wide selection of fragmentary female poets (Nossis, Anyte, Moero, and Erinna), and an epistolary record of women’s discussions of philosophy and its application to the problems of their own lives. As it stands, Part 3 is only slightly longer than the chapter on Homeric women in Part 1 and could...

dos séculos XIX e XX, sobre esse tema.

Reviewed by: Figures of Speech: Men and Maidens in Ancient Greece Laura K. McClure Figures of Speech: Men and Maidens in Ancient Greece. By Gloria Ferrari. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002. Pp. 352. $60.00 (cloth). Although it has become more and more common in academic disciplines to read visual representations alongside literary texts, the field of classics, [End Page 238] traditionally split into archaeological and philological pursuits, has been slow to bridge the divide. In Figures of Speech: Men and Maidens in Ancient Greece, Gloria Ferrari has managed an almost seamless joining of these two realms, deftly using visual and literary materials to shed light on one another reciprocally. This skillful interweaving affords greater access to the intellectual structures that informed ancient conceptions of gender than a simple art historical or literary analysis. In so doing, Ferrari has given us an ambitious, compelling book that will challenge its readers to rethink some of the prevailing contemporary views of gender and sexuality in ancient Greece. Structural linguistics and semiotic theory play a crucial role in framing this book's argument. The central hypothesis is that the same "projections of thought" (7) inform both literary texts and visual representations inasmuch as both modes make use of metaphor. Ferrari applies Jakobson's model of language as a communicative event to the interpretation of images, with emphasis on pattern, convention, and, especially, context. The utterance or picture comprises the syntagmatic chain in which signs are combined in a particular message; the paradigmatic alludes to the context or to the associations of a community of viewers. Images are analogous to language in that they represent a social construct not easily interpreted by outsiders; as cultural signs, they are subject to organization, combining syntagmatic and paradigmatic associations. This theoretical approach permits Ferrari to show the close connection between Attic vase paintings and "comparable images in different media, some also visual, such as ritual performances, others verbal, such as poetry and mythological narratives" (61). Throughout, she stresses that visual representations do not transparently reflect social or historical reality any more than literary representations but instead are fictions, "things that are thought not to exist but may be imagined" (19). Visual representations of maidens, for example, do not permit us to view the actual condition of women in ancient Greece but, rather, the ways in which femininity was defined. The book falls roughly into two parts, the first of which (chapters 1-3) explores questions of method; namely, how can visual signs be identified, if at all, and how are figures constructed? Ferrari focuses on stock scenes of female wool working, identifying three main themes in which wool working or its implements figure prominently: toilette, domestic tableaux, the reception of male figures, or a combination of these. The author demonstrates that these scenes feature a limited number of figures used repeatedly, like formulas, in a narrow thematic range; simple vignettes serve as the building blocks, or syntagmas, for more complex scenes. In Ferrari's view these scenes emphasize not work but play; indeed, all of them concern not cloth production or housekeeping but rather love and beauty to construct "a certain kind of femininity" (34). Moreover, the location of these scenes is fictional rather than real: they are often set in a courtyard or [End Page 239] front porch (prothura) that mediates the inner world of the palace and its exterior but does not correspond to any real architectural space. In such a place noble youths may approach protected maidens in courtship. This interpretation effectively refutes the traditional view that these scenes represent courtesans (hetairai) and their customers. The vases are also consistent in the ways they represent the spinner: she often appears surrounded by attendants, the visual equivalent of Aphrodite and the Graces or Artemis and her companions; she wraps herself with a cloak in a gesture of modesty or protection; she is preoccupied with bath and costume and with working wool. These wool workers are thus maidens, not sex workers, marriageable girls "sexually charged but innocent of sex" (47). Similarly, the frequent association of wool working with adornment, baths, and perfumes evokes not only the beauty of the maiden but also emphasizes her virginity...

The factors that determined the peculiarities of the social status of women in Ancient Sparta have been identified and analysed. It has been demonstrated that the establishment of community control over private life, namely: strict regulation of marriage and family relations, the compulsory nature of specific general education, which started for girls at the age of eight and lasted until marriage, determined that the national interests of women became a priority and dominated family values. It has been found that in Sparta, as in other polities of ancient Greece, childbearing was considered the most important function of women, as the offspring were to continue family traditions and take care of their elderly parents, conduct religious rites, etc. Only male children were seen as future citizens and defenders of the polis. In Lacedaemon, motherhood acquired a more accentuated meaning and was understood as service to the state. It became the basis of marriage and family relations, where polyandry was perceived as the norm. The Spartan woman was socially active. She was a direct participant in religious festivals and rituals, sports competitions. She publicly ridiculed the bachelors and cowards. If her own son turned out to be a coward, she could kill him herself. A mother did not bear any legal responsibility for the murder of a cowardly son. The economic rights of Spartans, which other women in ancient Greece did not have, have been investigated. Due to her husband’s military service, a Lacedaemonian woman managed not only his oikos, but also his cleris. Polyandry allowed a woman to unite two or more “houses” under her control and thus increase her influence in society. It has been noted that a strong economic foundation allowed wealthy women to have more freedom in society and even influence those in power in making responsible political decisions. With the loss of Messenia, women lose their economic freedom. The social status of women also changes, as they become more subordinate to men. It has been argued that in Sparta, the state minimised the private life of spouses. Under such conditions, a woman was socially active, knew the inner life of the polis well, and understood the foreign policy priorities of the state. She acted as a motivator and guide of Spartan ideology for the men of her family. And in this way, the Lacedaemonian woman was significantly different from other women in ancient Greece.

As scholars of women in antiquity have long recognized, religious rituals provided women with a critical public role in ancient Greece, challenging the popular notion that “proper” women in Greek society were to be neither seen nor heard. Connelly’s book provides significant new evidence for the importance of women’s leadership in Greek cult. Her work follows the approach of Lewis’ The Athenian Woman (London and New York 2002) in emphasizing the value of the visual record to supplement and correct ideas regarding women in antiquity derived primarily from literary and epigraphic sources.

Spring 2008 41 Clytemnestra’s Net: Aeschylus’ Oresteia and the Text of Tapestries Megan Shea Ripe with incarnations of the Greek word telos (meaning in its variations: end, sacrifice, goal), the Oresteia, not surprisingly, engenders teleological readings from its scholars. Particularly in the case of gender, such readings take a typical stance in lambasting Aeschylus for creating a trilogy that promotes a restoration of patriarchy. Froma Zeitlin, in her article “The Dynamics of Mythology: Myth and Mythmaking inAeschylus’Oresteia,” most famously traces the progression of social forces in the trilogy from the “matriarchy” of the monstrous Clytemnestra to the “patriarchy” of the male-bornAthena’s democracy.1 Subsequent readings have followed her work,2 causing much of feminist scholarship surrounding the Oresteia to take up the same plot derived, theme based evidence as fact-citing performative moments only to reinforce the teleological reading originating from Zeitlin. Her article, a breakthrough in feminist scholarship, has subsequently become a fixed entity, producing a wealth of similar methods of interpretation. Feminist classical scholarship especially has ignored the terms that evaluation of the performance spectacle can offer. My task is to reverse this trend; exploring the trilogy though its performative moments, I use language and props to re-imagine the spectacle of the Oresteia. One of the strongest visual moments in Greek tragedy occurs when Clytemnestra lures Agamemnon to his death by persuading him to walk into the palace on delicate tapestries. Naturally, the tapestry section of Agamemnon has generated a tremendous amount of discourse in classical scholarship, though the tapestry has not been evaluated as a prop within a performance.Andrew Sofer’s book The Stage Life of Props describes a prop as “something an object becomes, rather than something an object is.”3 In a society without industrial manufacturing, the cultural significance of the object outside of its stage meaning may yield a tension in the object’s becoming a prop. The prop presented cannot be artificial; in other words, unlike props today, it is not something of lesser value meant to represent something that is fine. Instead, the work must be the fine thing itself, woven perhaps by many women in preparation for its one time use in the production. The tapestry Megan Shea is a Ph.D. candidate in Theatre Arts at Cornell University, where she is completing her dissertation, “Antigone’s Daughters: Revolutions in Kinship and Performance.” Her research areas include women in ancient Greece, performance in ancient Greece, kinship, visual studies, and contemporary feminist performance and theatre. A director and actor, Megan is the first Ph.D. student to participate in Cornell’s newly created Advanced Graduate Training Program in Directing. 42 Journal of Dramatic Theory and Criticism is a liminal entity that signifies in the process of its becoming a prop, which in this case means that the prop signifies in the process of its ruination by Agamemnon. But what is being ruined here? Because weaving in ancient Greece was women’s work, the prop itself would be connected to women. And the ruination of the tapestry would signify the ruination of women’s work, leading possibly to the idea of the ruination of women. In this essay, I offer an alternative feminist perspective: concentrating on the construction of the feminine through materiality, I argue that the tapestry creates a connection between textiles and women, which reverberates throughout the trilogy as a representation of women’s plight. Thinking about women’s representations in Athenian performance means thinking about the audience as well. Although women were probably permitted to attend religious festivals such as City Dionysia,4 they still suffered severe restrictions under patriarchalAthens at the time of the Oresteia’s presentation (458 BCE). Wives especially, it seems, were subject to the whims of men. Evidence suggests that most of the time wives were required to stay at home, both as part of their work, and as a social custom. They were to obey the will of their guardians, or kyrioi: women’s fathers, husbands, or closest male relatives (including their sons).5 FemaleAthenian citizens were confined to the home because they were the only women in Athens who could bear legal...

This article is an ancient Greek historian's response to an invitation to reflect upon modern liberal democratic deportation. The article identifies a revealing contrast between ancient Greek city-states and their modern republican successors. In ancient Greece, institutionalised lawful expulsion of non-citizens was not a major concern. Rather, it was lawful expulsion of citizens which was a prominent political issue, comparable to modern liberal democratic deportation. Indeed, modern liberal democratic deportation and associated rhetoric were significantly foreshadowed in the ancient Greek politics of expulsion: Greeks used and justified lawful expulsion of citizens as a means of constructing and reinforcing both state power and abstract, rationalistic norms of citizenship. The article suggests the hypothesis that the contrast between the ancient and the modern situations can be explained by the modern prevalence of universalist human rights norms, not politically influential in ancient Greece. First, human rights norms exert pressures on modern liberal democratic states, unparalleled in ancient Greece, to integrate and assist outsiders. Deportation is partly a reaction against those pressures, of a type unnecessary in the ancient Greek world. Second, although the modern liberal democratic analogues of Classical republican ideas, partly derived from their Classical antecedents, encourage lawful citizen expulsion, the modern citizen's inalienable human right to residence in his home state militates against it. Modern liberal democratic deportation of non-citizens, and associated rhetoric, can thus be interpreted partly as alternative outlets for the use of expulsion and exclusionary rhetoric to construct and reinforce complex norms of citizenship.

The Ancient Greeks were great innovators in all academic fields, including medicine. Hippocrates of Kos, the Father of Medicine, established many terms for the genitourinary (GU) system, such as nephros, urethra, urogenital, and adenocarcinoma. According to Hesiod's Theogony, Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, was born off the coast of Kythera, from the foam produced by Uranus's genitals, after his son Cronus had thrown them into to the sea. In this review, we present the etymology of the GU vocabulary, review the Ancient Greeks' understanding of the GU system and the origins of Greek myths related to the male genitals.