Classics

The act of writing has a prominent place in Ovid’s Heroides, and writing intended for public display is included in several heroines’ epistles. Six inscriptions are present in the single Heroides, half of which are epitaphs at the end of the letters of women who plan to die soon: Phyllis (Her. 2.147–48), Dido (Her. 7.195–96) and Hypermnestra (Her. 14.129–30). Sappho’s letter to Phaon also contains an epigram intended for the public (Her. 15.183–84), but I argue that it is meant to be a purely dedicatory inscription, not a funerary one.
Ramsby’s study of inscriptions in the Heroides shows that one of the primary concerns of Ovid’s female authors was presenting their versions of their stories in a medium that was permanent and highly visible (120–21). By utilizing the traditional funereal functions of elegy, Ovid provided a way for the women to express their motivations and experiences. These women who desired visibility and remembrance echoed the concerns of several poets, including Ovid himself, and much of the Roman population at large, as they sought commemoration through epitaphs (Lattimore 55, 241-43).
    Ovid had Phyllis, Dido, and Hypermnestra compose their own epitaphs and place them near the conclusions of their letters. Each inscription not only provided information about the situation which led to the woman's death, but also gave insights about the mental state and character of the letter’s author. Phyllis and Dido’s epitaphs drew attention to the men whom they blamed for their deaths, and allowed Ovid to emphasize their agency, while crafting distinctions in their personalities. Hypermnestra’s epistle, while still referencing her upcoming death, focused on piety, ties of kinship and marriage, the circumstances of her anticipated death, and the desire for Lyncaeus to arrange for her burial and epitaph—all reminiscent of features found on Roman graves.
Sappho’s inscription, on the other hand, is thirty lines away from the end of her letter, and makes no reference to Phaon, or even the possibility of her death, It is instead a dedicatory inscription which Ovid had her state that she would set up after she survived the jump from the cliff at Actium, freeing herself from her love for Phaon (Her. 15.177–82). While Ramsby rightly points out that Sappho’s epigram also deals with “authority, choice of self-memorialization, and agency” (118), she does not explore what the very different character of this dedication of her lyre to Apollo means for the epigram’s classification as funereal or dedicatory. While Ramsby acknowledges the epigram as dedicatory, she is swayed by Sappho’s eventual fate to look upon it as an epitaph as well. Other scholars simply present their interpretations of the epigram as either funerary (Lindheim 161 and Rimell 131) or simply dedicatory (Deremetz 42, Jacobson 290, and Knox 309) based on the lines themselves, without considering the other inscriptions in the Heroides.  However, by exploring the very different character of the dedication, especially in comparison to Roman funerary inscriptions and the three epitaphs in the Heroides, we must reinterpret the nature of the epigram which Ovid had Sappho construct, as well as her letter as a whole, and what she hoped to achieve by jumping from the Leucadian cliff.
By examining the context and features of the funerary epigrams in the letters of Phyllis, Dido, and Hypermnestra alongside the epigram in Sappho’s epistle, I will show that Ovid did not intend for the poetess’ public inscription to act as an epitaph, but only as a dedication of her lyre to Apollo. This offering would have served to strengthen her place as a follower of the god and express her thanks for helping her survive the leap, ridding herself of her love for Phaon.

[Presented at CAMWS 2017, in Kitchener, Ontario]

This article argues that the scenes in Perpetua's Passio in which her father begs her to recant her Christianity contain allusions to scenes in the Iliad in which Hector's family begs him to preserve his life by fleeing the battlefield. Hector's choice to die gloriously despite the pain that such a death will cause his loved ones serves as an exemplum for Perpetua's prioritization of her calling as a martyr over her duty to her family. The emphasis placed on the emotional cost of Perpetua's choice is unique in early martyr narratives and may reflect Perpetua's singular status as a Roman matrona who narrates her own martyrdom. n the Passio Sanctarum Perpetuae et Felicitatis, the reputedly autobiographical account of the martyrdom of Saint Perpetua, a young Roman woman who died in Carthage in 203 CE, there is a striking scene in which Perpetua's father begs her to save herself by recanting her Christianity (Passio 5). This encounter is unique in early martyr narratives, which usually show little concern with martyrs' families. In this paper I argue that this supplication scene alludes to scenes in the Iliad where Hector is supplicated by Priam and the rest of his family to save himself by avoiding battle and taking shelter within the walls of Troy. I contend that these allusions serve to illuminate the conflict between Perpetua's role as daughter and mother and her role as martyr, and that Hector is a uniquely appropriate exemplum for Perpetua because he too acknowledges the emotional cost of navigating such conflicting roles as he chooses to face his end. His and Perpetua's stories stand in contrast to other exemplary tales of " noble death, " which are usually not concerned with such details. Through this parallel with the Homeric hero, the Passio justifies Perpetua's decision to sacrifice her own life and forsake the obligations she owes to her family as a woman in the cultural context of Imperial Rome. the CJ reviewers for their generous and insightful comments on various stages of this article.

This article argues that the Iliad uses the figure of the Homeric mother,
who represents both protection and destruction, as a symbol for the instability of
epic warrior values. Heroes are meant to protect their cities and comrades, just
as mothers are meant to protect their children. However, the warrior’s imperative to seek kleos and time\ may cause him to disregard his protective role, just
as mothers may subvert their life-giving function through the murder of their
children. By using maternal imagery to describe warriors, the Iliad emphasizes how
their competing values of kleos and protection often become mutually exclusive.

Although the Iliad does not explicitly depict Achilles and Patroclus as lovers, I argue that the poem suggests an erotic dimension to their relationship by comparing them to husband-wife pairings in Homeric epic. Previous scholars have tended either to deny any erotic component to Achilles and Patroclus's bond or to assume that the Iliad unproblematically depicts them as lovers. Others have hinted at the possibility of a deliberate homoerotic subtext between the two heroes but have adduced little specific evidence other than the intensity of their emotional connection. In this article, I show that Achilles and Patroclus in the Iliad are analogous to a husband and wife by presenting specific examples from the text of how their relationship structure and affective bond mirror those of Homeric husband-wife couples. I conclude that the poem portrays Achilles and Patroclus's relationship as a conjugal bond in order to highlight Achilles' alienation from traditional social structures as well as the excessive and transgressive nature of his affective responses. I also suggest that Homeric epic presents the ideal conjugal bond as being characterized by the potential for power exchange and role reversal rather than by strict hierarchy.

The Christian apologist Lactantius (c. 240 - 320 C.E.) presents, in his book the Divine Institutes, Christian monotheism and Paganism as wholly separated entities. Contrary to his claims, however, the religious landscape of the Roman Empire did not as easily lend itself to dichotomies. An example of this fluid landscape can be found in the Greco-Roman prophetesses known as Sibyls, whose portrayal in Lactantius has been seen by most scholars as merely a rhetorical device.  I argue, however, that Lactantius' representation of the Sibyls was the product of fourth-century Pagan/Christian interaction.

In book five, chapter two of Origen's Contra Celsum, Celsus inadvertently advances a "pagan" Christology. Noting that no god or son of a god had ever come to earth, Celsus suggests that a being such as Christ could be an angel or a god, but most likely a daimon (Contra Celsum, 5.2). Christ's identification as a "daimon" provides insight into how Celsus possibly envisioned such a being. Therefore, with this passage providing definitional parameters, this paper explores Celsus's demonology in light of previous depictions of daimones. Since only fragments of Celsus's work survive in Contra Celsum, it is prudent to acknowledge that Origen filtered Celsus through his own Christology and demonology. Despite this fact, it is not unfounded to assert that Origen's work could inform our understandings of how pagans envisioned the nature of daimones. Much recent scholarship demonstrates the overlapping religious beliefs of pagans and Christians in the Greco-Roman world. Early Christians did not develop daimones as a rhetorical tool; it was a product of the cultural milieu.

Celsus’s discussion of daimones is found within his larger argument for the correct worship of the highest god. Celsus presents a henotheistic framework which necessitated the worship of the highest god’s subordinates: beings such as angels, daimones, and heroes (cf. Contra Celsum, 7.68). In this system, Celsus seems to take the ontological category of “daimon” for granted, only taking the time to describe how daimones fit into a greater cosmology. This picture is further complicated by the ambiguous definition of what constituted a “daimon” in antiquity. Among the many definitions, daimones were cited as gods (Iliad, 1.222, 3.420), the spirits of heroes (Hesiod, Works and Days, 314), and intermediary spirits (Plato, Symposium, 202d-203a).

Nevertheless, Celsus’s identification of Christ as a daimon could provide an exploratory lens to discern pagan beliefs regarding daimones. Celsus’s theoretical attempt to fit the figure of Christ into a pagan cosmology may itself help narrow down the common cultural understandings regarding daimones. In other words, by interacting with Christian beliefs, Celsus perhaps articulates formerly tacit pagan beliefs about daimones.

Adding to the scholarly discourse on pagan demonologies in late antiquity, this paper tests the extent to which earlier demonologies may inform (yet not dictate) our understanding of daimones in Celsus. Demonological sources as varied as the Middle Platonists, and the Greek Magical Papyri are used to illuminate Celsus’s own view. There are further implications to such an investigation. Celsus’s conception of the nature of daimones may perhaps shed light on the pagan demonologies of later authors such as Porphyry and Iamblichus. While this paper does not finalize the discussion regarding daimones, it seeks new possibilities for continued research of pagan demonologies in late antiquity.

Scholars argue that Origen of Alexandria conceives the soul’s spiritual progress within a modified Platonic
paradigm (Marx-Wolf; Ramelli). Others have been more skeptical of Origen’s Platonism (Edwards). According to
Ramelli, Origen advances that the rational soul occupies an earthly, human body only once (ensomatosis), rather
than a cycle of multiple bodies (metensomatosis). This notwithstanding, Marx-Wolf argues that the soul, separated
from the body at death, still is capable of spiritual advancement.

Origen suggests that rational human souls are capable of ascending to higher states of being. One can partake in the
Divine by properly understanding the true hierarchy of beings (from highest to lowest): God, the Logos, the rational
souls of angels, daemons, humans, and the irrational souls of animals. By employing this knowledge, one can, in a
sense, move up the divine hierarchy by turning away from the lower daemons, and instead praying to the higher
angels and especially to Jesus. In this hierarchical arrangement, Origen, in his Contra Celsum, characterizes rational
human souls, according to his hierarchy of beings, as below that of the angels. Eventually, the purified souls of the
good will ascend to the “likeness” (ἐξομοίωσις) of angels and become their equals (4.29; I Corinthians 8:5-6). This
full ascension of the human spirit to the realm of angels, according to Origen, will not occur during a human’s
lifetime, but rather at its hopeful resurrection (Contra Celsum 4.29).

The ascent of the soul occurs elsewhere in Contra Celsum two additional times. First, Origen alludes to
Plato’s Phaedo 80d-81d at which Socrates contrasts the pure and impure soul (Con.Cels. 7.5). Second, Origen refers
to Plato’s myth of the soul’s ascent from the Phaedrus 247b-c). The third reference is to the apostle Paul’s first letter
to the Corinthians (1 Cor. 8:5-6) and his argument concerning our ascent to the “likeness” (ἐξομοίωσις) of angels.
We see that Origen appeals to Plato and Paul as bases for the ascension of the human soul. When these three
passages are taken collectively, we see that Origen reframes the soul’s ascent as described by Plato to imply the
ascent to the realm of the angels, wherein the body has its resurrection.

Origen insists that the Christian teaching of the resurrection should contrast with metensomatosis (Con.Cels. 5.29,
3.75). Origen’s Contra Celsum and De Principiis, however, belie full disavowal of metensomatosis. Instead,
he harmonizes Plato’s “cycle of generation” (Phaedrus 249a) with the Christian teaching of the soul’s
resurrection (cf. 1 Corinthians 15). Additionally, like Plato, Origen preserves the idea of the soul’s future
embodiment (cf. Phaedrus 247b-c). For Origen, however, one obtains this spiritual body at its resurrection in
heaven, not on earth (Con.Cels. 7.32, 7.44). Origen contends that the body must undergo some sort of qualitative
change. Accordingly, the soul needs a body better suited to its purer state. Thus, the soul dons a “spiritual body” in
its new embodiment which is better suited to “ethereal” area of heaven (Con.Cels. 5.19; 7.32).

This new embodiment of the soul after its ascent is only available to those who have purified their minds according
to reason and who are ready to undergo the steps of initiation into the mysteries of Christian community dependent
upon their level of spiritual progress. Origen argues that it is imperative that those of the Christian community
spread the message of the Logos to everyone and not admit only those who are pure of soul. He extends the soul’s
ascent even to so-called sick souls. Origen sees the hope in helping such sick souls lacking reason (Con.Cels. 8.50). The goal, then, according to Origen, is for them to progress to a state of irrationality to a state of reason. Thus, while
the healthy, rational soul might attain progress upon death, might then fully realize the soul’s ascent and become like
the angels, which serve for Origen the highest of the rational souls.

Origen limits spiritual resurrection to rational souls. Barred from the ascent to heaven are the irrational souls of
animal. Origen disagrees with the idea that the irrational soul can ascend or descend into multiple incarnations, i.e.
the suggestion that the human soul is born into animals or vice versa (e.g. Plato, Phaedo 81d-82b, Phaedrus 249b).
Origen frames his refocusing of metensomatosis within the context of a philosophic debate over the spiritual
capacity of animals’ souls, which Origen characterize as irrational. Origen solves this conundrum by incorporating
the Stoic distinction between the spiritual abilities of the rational human soul and the irrational animal soul (cf.
Gilhus; cf. Con.Cels. 7.17, 8.18). Thus, Origen adopts this Stoic dichotomy to preserve the paradigm
of metensomatosis, whereby its scope is limited only to the rational soul. The soul’s future embodiment occurs at its
heavenly resurrection and not in another human lifetime. This study provides a window into not only third-century
CE debates among Platonists and Stoics regarding the spiritual advancement of animals, but also the interpretation
of Plato’s writings.