sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

Κασσάνδρα. ὀτοτοτοῖ πόποι δᾶ. Ὦπολλον Ὦπολλον. [...] Ἄπολλον Ἄπολλον ἀγυιᾶτ᾽, ἀπόλλων ἐμός. ἀπώλεσας γὰρ οὐ μόλις τὸ δεύτερον.

Kassandra. [incoherent screaming] O Ruin! O Ruin... [sobbing] Ruin, Guiding Ruin, my ruining! Twice now you have utterly ruined me... [sobbing]

(Aiskhulos, Agamemnon 1072-82.)


I'm not much of a theater person, but Aiskhulos's Kassandra is harrowing. I've checked something like five translations and, while I'm no expert, nobody seems to translate her well. And honestly I just don't think she can translate well: she's incoherent, rambling, and everything she says seems to have a double or triple meaning. Here, Aiskhulos explicitly connects Ἄπολλον "Apollon" (the god) with the virtually identical ἀπόλλων "destroying utterly" (the action), referring to how Apollon despoils the material world in favor of the spiritual (cf. Horos beheading Isis; Perseus from πέρσευς "pillager [of cities];" etc.) as he has also despoiled Kassandra. Ἄπολλον ἀγυιᾶτα "Apollon of the Roads" refers how Apollon guides initiates on the upward ways but also how he has guided Kassandra to her undoing. One gets the impression of a failed initiate, who saw but was unable to digest what she had seen and was broken by it.

By the Hellenistic era, Apollo was a joyful singer of songs; but to Homer, Apollon was a harsh warrior. I wonder if his golden lyre was only for his heroes; his golden arrows were for everyone else...

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

Δαναός. ἁγνόν τ᾽ Ἀπόλλω, φυγάδ᾽ ἀπ᾽ οὐρανοῦ θεόν.
Χορός. εἰδὼς ἂν αἶσαν τήνδε συγγνοίη βροτοῖς.
Δαναός. συγγνοῖτο δῆτα καὶ παρασταίη πρόφρων.

Danaos. Pray also to holy Apollo, a god exiled from heaven.
Daughters. Knowing our lot, he may well pity us mortals.
Danaos. May he indeed pity us and so be kindly disposed to us.

(Aiskhulos, The Suppliants 214–6, as translated—hopefully not too badly!—by yours truly. "Danaos" means "ancient," by the way, a fitting name for the Perseus myth's equivalent of Atum.)

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

I've a few transcriptions for you all, today: Æschylus's Oresteia trilogy, concerning the fall and redemption of the house of Atreus. Apparently Æschylus was put on trial for revealing the mysteries in his plays; I can see why, though it's veiled enough that one would have to already be familiar with the mysteries to be sure. (I suppose that's why he was acquitted.)

You can find the PDFs as follows:

These are all transcribed from the Loeb Classics edition, which is a little stodgy but easier to read than others I've come across. As always, these are in the public domain.

The Poets

Jan. 2nd, 2025 02:52 pm
sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

Simonides, when asked which was the greater, Homer or Hesiod, said, "Hesiod was born of the Muses, but Homer was born of the Graces."

(Vatican Collection of Greek Sayings.)


In the same way, Hesiod extols the virtues of the hard-working, but Homer extols the virtues of the rich.

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

And while I'm blathering about Homer, if you're interested in reading him, my favorite translation for pleasure reading is W. H. D. Rouse's: The Story of Achilles and The Story of Odysseus. (The latter was even suitable for reading to my then-seven-year-old daughter so long as I explained things as I went along.) Those are hard to find in hardcopy, but don't let that stop you: even if all you can get locally is Samuel Butler's translation, it's stodgy but it's fine (for example, I have a really nice leather-bound, gilt-edged edition from Barnes and Noble, which I got while traveling for maybe $20 and is pretty hard to complain about).

Alexander Pope's Iliad is exquisite but I can't read heroic verse for more than a couple pages before my eyes bleed.

If I need a very precise translation (if I'm trying to understand the Greek line-by-line, say), I've been very impressed with Andrew Lang's Iliad and Odyssey every time I've looked things up in them (but I haven't read them cover to cover).

My daughter liked the Odyssey so much that she begged me to read her the Iliad, but even with an easy translation (and my skipping over large sections), it was too much for her. She enjoyed Rosemary Sutcliffe's retelling for children, Black Ships Before Troy, though.

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

One of my goals after getting away from my tech job was to push myself to read more, and I've been managing a pace of about a book a week since April. In particular, I finished reading the Anabasis earlier today: it's a fascinating adventure story, of how a mercenary force, stranded hundreds of miles behind enemy lines, manages to bring itself safely home.

Here's a little synopsis of each of its seven books:

  1. Prince Cyrus of Persia secretly gathers a large army, including ten thousand Greek mercenaries, to assassinate his brother, King Artaxerxes. They march on Babylon, but Cyrus is killed in battle.

  2. The Greek mercenaries are stranded deep in enemy territory. They sign a truce with a Persian viceroy who guarantees their safe return. He betrays them and assassinates most of the Greek captains.

  3. Xenophon urges the surviving Greek captains and lieutenants to action. He is elected captain of a unit. At his recommendation, the ten thousand destroy all nonessential equipment and march north with all haste. The Persians pursue and the Greeks suffer for it, but eventually make it to high ground and relative safety.

  4. The Greeks decide to go over the mountains to the Black Sea, hoping that the Persians would not pursue through Kurdistan and Armenia. They did not, but the natives and harsh conditions prove worse and there are many casualties. Nonetheless, the Greeks scrape through and reach the Black Sea at Trapezous.

  5. The Greeks fail to secure transport and provisions for a sea voyage and so march west, trading military services for guidance and safe passage through foreign territories, eventually reaching Sinope, from which they finally secure transport.

  6. The Greek army sails to Heraclea. There, they suffer from internal disunity, diplomatic failures, disastrous skirmishes, and a lack of provisions, but they eventually stabilize and march as far as Chrysopolis.

  7. The Greeks cross the Bosphorus into Byzantium, but the army has no money to buy needed provisions and so the city's governor fears that it will use force in desperation. He uses deceit to lure the army out of the city and closes it. Desperate, Xenophon trades the army's services to a local barbarian king for provisions and pay. When the term of service comes to an end, pay is withheld, but Xenophon manages to secure it with difficulty. Sparta begins a campaign against Persia and the recruits the army, but since Xenophon is not a formal member of the army, he finally returns home.

The whole thing is harrowing, and it seems a miracle that the Greeks managed to secure adequate provisions as they went: often they were a day away from being without food, and nobody—not even the Greek cities!—showed them hospitality.

One of the surprising things was that Xenophon, who was instrumental in saving eight thousand lives, wasn't even supposed to be there! He wasn't an officer or even a soldier (though, like all Athenians, he had a few years of mandatory service under his belt, so he wasn't green), he just happened to come along for fun and adventure as a friend of one of the captains, Proxenus. He ended up in charge by taking action when nobody else would, being of upstanding character, never asking others for something he wouldn't do himself, and by learning from his mistakes.

I'm also reading The Art of not Being Governed by James Scott, who suggests that barbarians aren't primitives—rather, they're peoples who specifically and actively reject statehood, and tend to mountains and violence as a deliberate reaction to state-making. Xenophon's account underscores that: as powerful as the Persian Empire is, the Greeks make a mockery of them even when greatly outnumbered—but the Kurds tear the Greeks to shreds: losing something like a tenth of their fighting force in weeks.

Amusingly, Socrates makes a cameo appearance! When Proxenus invited Xenophon to go with him, Xenophon had a bad feeling about it and asked Socrates what to do. Socrates advised Xenophon to ask the oracle of Delphi, but Xenophon botches his question and asks how best to travel (not whether to travel). Oops! When Xenophon tells Socrates about it, Socrates says, "Welp, you can't just ignore what Apollo told you to do, so I guess you're in for it now!" Xenophon certainly got more than he bargained for, but got through it none the worse for wear—in fact, he became famous!—so I guess the Oracle was right!

Also interesting is that Xenophon repeatedly describes prophetic dreams and omens. As he first sets out, an eagle cries out in a particular way and an augur divines for Xenophon from this that his path is difficult and would bring renoun but not wealth. He is induced to spur the Greeks to action by a dream in which Zeus leads him out of a burning building. In a seemingly hopeless situation where his army is trapped between the enemy and a deep river, he dreams that fetters which bind him fall open, and upon waking some of his men discover a safe ford. The army often only takes up, or drops, a course of action after the captains divine on it, and Xenophon frequently only seems to scrape through on the basis of divinatory advice.

Another thing I didn't expect was how all the different Greek nationalities all seem to come with stereotypes attached. Spartans, for example, are treated as courageous and morally upstanding, but also as grudge-bearing and perhaps less intelligent than most. Athenians are treated as clever but conniving (and Xenophon seems to surprise everyone with his openness and honesty). Arcadians and Achæans are treated as being of great physical strength and endurance, but also very quick to anger. I always thought Thrace was part of Greece, but here they're treated as barbarians! It was interesting to see all this, as they're all Greek to me—but to Xenophon and his army, it seems that the Greeks are completely different peoples united only by bonds of honor and language. It underscores, to me, just how radical Diogenes was being when he claimed to be "a citizen of the world."

Anyway, I found it a fun and interesting read and would recommend it if you're into military sorts of things.

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

This evening, I happened across the story of Star Boy (Mercury), son of the Morning and Evening Stars (Venus), grandson of the Sun and Moon. It is a myth every bit as worthy of contemplation as those of the Mysteries. On this longest day of the year, I share it in gratitude, and I pray that our dazzling, mundane reflection of the Father of All take away your scars and make your heart new again, too.

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

My eldest daughter was born on a Wednesday, and she lives up to a Mercurial nature: she loves to read, and we go through many books every evening. (The library has a program called "1000 Books Before Kindergarten" and we go through that many in a couple months, easy.) Surely, though, I am not the only parent around here, and I thought it might be fun to pick out and share some of her favorites in case others are hunting around for good stories for their children.

And, because I'm a nerd, I figured I'd pick one for each planet.

The Sun: Iktomi Loses His Eyes, from Iktomi (series), Paul Goble

Everyone loves "trickster tales:" Anansi, Br'er Rabbit, Coyote, and the like. Iktomi is the Lakota variant of this character, whose ego and hubris are matched only by how he always seems to come out on top of all the trouble he gets himself into. My daughter loves the entire series, but says that "Iktomi Loses His Eyes" is her favorite: in it, Iktomi learns a magic spell which goes awry (of course).

The Moon: Burger Boy, Alan Durant

This is a tale of gluttony and metamorphosis, both lunar themes. My daughter cackles in glee at the wackiness of the fable, but I liked how the author didn't stoop to teach a cheap moral, but properly completed the story arc with a sophisticated one.

Mars: Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, from Aladdin (Great Fairy Tale Classics), Peter Holeinone

I found this collection of stories retold from the Arabian Nights at a thrift store, I think, and it was perhaps one of the best finds we've ever had: we've read it a dozen or more times. It has some very familiar stories, like Aladdin, and some less familiar ones, like the Parrot Shah or the Weeping Princess, but my daughter is as morbid as I am, and her favorite is Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. Full of gods, spirits, and magic.

Mercury: The Boy of the Three Year Nap, Dianne Snyder

This is a mischief story and no mistake, where a player gets played at his own game. Notably for this blog, the story prominently features a genii loci as well (well, sort of).

Jupiter: Dear Mili, Wilhelm Karl Grimm

This is a story of prayer, beneficence, and guardian angels. I was very proud that as I read it to my daughter the first time, she correctly identified every single spiritual theme: one of those moments where one pauses to themselves and says, "Wow, she really has been listening!" (Until at least, she points at the book and says, "Keep reading, daddy.")

Venus: Chirri and Chirra, from Chirri and Chirra (series), Kaya Doi

Two little girls go and play in the forest with the animals. No grown ups, no morals, just fun. (I wish we had a forest cafe to go hang out at.)

Saturn: Farmer Boy, from The Little House on the Prarie (series), Laura Ingalls Wilder

My daughter is getting old enough now that we're starting to get into chapter books, but these are hit and miss. The single biggest hit has been Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House series: we've read most of them and my daughter is simply fascinated by it all. I asked her which of the series has been her favorite, and she said Farmer Boy, and I think it's my favorite, too: while it purports to tell "a year in the life" of a farmer's child in the 1800's, it possesses a good, clear story arc, and the characters are all relatable and interesting.