¹ Many of the standard objections are well epitomized and expressed by Knox, B. M. W. in his remarks on the play in his Sather Lectures, The Heroic Temper (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1964) 2, 4, 8, 172; see also his ‘Second Thoughts in Greek Tragedy,’ GRBS 7 (1966) 213–32. A modification of these views can be seen in his review (AJP 92 [1971] 692–701) of Ronnet's, G. Sophocle, poète tragique (Paris 1969) which contains an exceptionally harsh appraisal of Heracles (94–95; infra, n. 175).Google Scholar

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² See Knox's, excellent comments, Heroic Temper (n. 1) 54–58. Sophocles’ devotion to these cults has frequently been seen as a sign of his ‘piety,’ which all too frequently has been interpreted in a narrow and restrictive manner; see Whitman's, C. H. very pointed remarks on this problem in his Sophocles (Cambridge, Mass. 1951) Chaps. I and II.Google Scholar

³ The most important work in the field remains Farnell's, L. R. Greek Hero Cults and Ideas of Immortality (Oxford 1921); see also Brelich, A., Gli eroi Greci (Rome 1958), Delcourt, M., Légendes et cultes des héros en Grèce (Paris 1942), Foucart, M. P., Le culte des héros chez les Grecs (Paris 1918), Nock, A. D., ‘The Cult of Heroes,’ HTR 37 (1944) 141–74, and Rohde, E., trans. Hillis, W. B., Psyche ⁸ (New York 1966) Pt. I, Chap. IV. The relationship of hero–cults to the broader fabric of Greek religion is sensitively considered in Guthrie's, W. K. C. The Greeks and Their Gods (Boston 1950, 1956) and Nilsson's, M. P. studies, The Minoan–Mycenaean Religion and Its Survival in Greek Religion ² (Lund 1950), Cults, Myths, Oracles, and Politics in Ancient Greece (Lund 1951), A History of Greek Religion ², trans. Fielden, F. J. (Oxford 1952), Geschichte der griechischen Religion (Munich 1957).Google Scholar

⁴ Farnell, (n. 3) 2.Google Scholar

⁵ Nock, (n. 3) 142–43. The tempting analogy between heroes and Christian saints should be employed with caution for, as Foucart (n. 3) 77–78 stated quite succinctly, the Greek did not consider heroes as intercessors for man to the divine but as powers in their own right.Google Scholar

⁶ Guthrie, (n. 3) 220.Google Scholar

⁷ Cf. Farnell, (n. 3) 239. Building on a parallel study by Ferguson, W. S., ‘The Attic Orgeones,’ HTR 37 (1944) 61–140, Nock (n. 3) has shown this confusion about the status as well as the origin of heroes carried over in the variety of practices associated with these cults, and not infrequently the form of heroic rites paralleled those of the Olympians as well as chthonic spirits. It is also significant that this confusion was true of new cults as well as older ones, and that a hero who was revered in a number of locales might well be honored in a broad variety of ways. On the basis of his trips to Tyre and Thasos Herodotus, for example, cites with approval the worship of Heracles as an Olympian and as a hero by various Greek states. The cults to Heracles on Thasos itself offer clear evidence to the variety of forms of worship accorded this figure; in addition to Berguist's, B. recent study, Herakles on Thasos (Uppsala 1973), see Picard, C., ‘Un rituel archaique du culte de l'Héraclès thasien trouvé à Thasos,” BCH 47 (1923) 241–74 and Seyrig, H., ‘Quatre cultes de Thasos,’ BCH 51 (1927) 171–233. At Sicyon worship of Heracles combined elements from Olympian and chthonic worship into one ‘service’ (Paus. 2.10.1; cf. Farnell 354).Google Scholar

⁸ Foucart (n. 3) 67, cf. 2–3. Although Foucart's conviction that all heroes evolved from human figures constituted an oversimplification of the evidence and must be modified in light of such studies as those by Farnell, , Nilsson, , and Nock, (n. 3), the basic thrust and vigor of his argumentation offered a needed balance to the then current view exemplified by Deneken's, F. article on heroes in Roscher's Lexikon that heroes were ‘decayed’ gods. Foucart's comments on how the cults represented a natural desire not to regard death as total annihilation offer a sensitive appraisal of one of the basic reasons for the wide appeal of these cults.Google Scholar

⁹ In addition to the works cited before (n. 3) see also Nilsson's, M. P. The Mycenaean Origin of Greek Mythology (Berkeley 1932). The continuity of mythological names with the Mycenaean period which was first demonstrated on linguistic grounds (cf. Nilsson, , 26 n. 21 and Kretschmer, P., ‘Mythische Namen,’ Glotta 10 [1920] 38–62) has received additional support since the decipherment of linear B.Google Scholar

¹⁰ Both Desborough, V. R. d'A., The Greek Dark Ages (London 1972) 281, and Vermeule, E., Chap IX, ‘The Mycenaean Heritage,’ Greece in the Bronze Age (Chicago 1964), deny direct continuity in cult practices from the Mycenaean era through the archaic age. While Desborough and Vermeule believe that the formative period of the actual cults may have been relatively late, Dietrich, B. C., The Origins of Greek Religion (Berlin–New York 1974) 161, has proposed that the cults began as early as the concluding years of Mycenaean influence. Opinions on this point are closely related to the authors’ opinions on the degree and type of continuity of religious expression over the entire period. For example, Nilsson's studies emphasized apparently constant characteristics while Vermeule sees in Mycenaean religious practices an openness and absence of superstition that is in marked contrast to cult practices of the archaic period. The issue is further clouded by the debates whether or not later depictions of mythological and religious scenes represent a continuous tradition from the Mycenaean era. On this last point see the discussions of Banti, L., ‘Myth in Pre-Classical Art,’ AJA 58 (1954) 307–10, Karageorghis, V., ‘Myth and Epic in Mycenaean Vase Painting,’ AJA 62 (1958) 383–87, and Vermeule, E., ‘Mythology in Mycenaean Art,’ CJ 54 (1958) 97–108.Google Scholar

¹¹ One of the best known examples is the identification of a Mycenaean tomb on Delos as that of the Hyperborean Maidens, which after the purification of the islands by the Athenians in the fifth century became the site for a hero-cult; see Dietrich (n. 10) 160, Vermeule, Greece in the Bronze Age (n. 10) 287–88. Mylonas, G. E., Eleusis (Princeton 1961) 60–63, has an interesting discussion of the respect shown in the geometric period for Mycenaean burial sites at Eleusis and how these locales later became identified with hero-cults.Google Scholar

¹² On the epics as vehicles for transmission of cultural ideals see Havelock, E. A., ‘Prologue to Greek Literacy,’ University of Cincinnati Classical Studies II (Norman 1973) 331–91; the thesis of this work was expanded in the author's Origin of Western Literacy, The Ontario Institute for Studies in Education, Monograph Series 14 (Toronto 1976). Coldstream, J. N., Geometric Greece (New York 1977), has shown how the Greeks in the second half of the eighth century became increasingly aware of a vanished heroic age, and parallels the growth of heroic cults with the rapid spread and development of oral poetry in the period (341–48; cf. Desborough [n. 10] 283). The nature of the interrelationships between oral poetry and hero-cults, however, remains a largely unexplored area, and questions about the continuity of the cults from the Mycenaean era (supra, n. 10) have their counterparts in the debates about the period when formulaic poetry developed. Some scholars (e.g., Nagler, M., Spontaneity and Tradition [Berkeley 1974], Page, D. L., History and the Homeric Iliad [Berkeley 1959]) have argued that there is a direct continuity with the Mycenaean era if not earlier, while others (e.g., Kirk, G. S., Homer and the Oral Tradition [Cambridge 1976]) have asserted that the truly formative period for oral poetry was subsequent to the decline of Mycenaean culture. Although there is no more consensus on these questions than on other forms of continuity and change from the Mycenaean era to the archaic age, there can be little doubt that hero-cults and oral poetry represented parallel efforts to encapsulate cultural values. I believe this shared purpose is more significant than the commonly made distinction between the ‘open,’ ‘humanistic’ attitude of Homer and the somewhat more apprehensive atmosphere suggested by the actual cult practices. As is the case with the familiar contrast between Homer and Hesiod, the essential difference is one of stance and attitude rather than content. I also concur with Price's, T. H. position, ‘Hero-Cult and Homer,’ Historia 23 (1973) 129–44, which expands upon Hack's, R. K. thesis in ‘Homer and the Cult of Heroes,’ TAPA 60 (1929) 57–74, that Homer was aware not only of hero-cults but also that the cult practices themselves are reflected in the epics.Google Scholar

¹³ In this connection it is appropriate to note that one of the most important results of Nock's study (n. 3) was to point out that the date of foundation could not be used as an index of sophistication; some late cults were quite crude in terms of practices and beliefs, while a number of early cults display a striking elegance of ritual and conception. Although there is no certain way to classify heroes, the most reasonable approach appears to be a combination of Farnell's typology and Brelich's morphological approach to the classification of heroic behavior.Google Scholar

¹⁴ I do not share Poulsen's, F. belief, Delphi, trans. Richards, G. C. (London 1920) 30, that the oracle set out to revive hero-cults after they had been weakened ‘under the influence of Ionian rationalism.’ The available evidence suggests that the role of Delphi, in fact, may have been the converse, to limit the proliferation of cults.Google Scholar

¹⁵ Brelich's, , Farnell's, , Foucart's, , and Rohde's studies (n. 3) offer convenient discussion of the various types of heroes and types of activity that were considered appropriate for heroic status. Although the term ‘hero’ later degenerated into little more than an honorary title that might be accorded for a broad variety of public and even private, domestic services, in the sixth and fifth centuries heroes and their cults were taken very seriously. One index is the frequent citations and reports of heroic assistance accorded the Greek forces in the Persian Wars.Google Scholar

¹⁶ Clear examples of this concern can be seen in the Spartans’ efforts to recover Orestes’ bones (Her. 1.66–68) and Cimon's retrieval of Theseus’ remains (Plut., Theseus 36.1; Cimon 8.3–6). The continued vitality of this theme is demonstrated by Sophocles’ use of it in the Oedipus at Colonus where the question of the prospective location of Oedipus’ remains is the basic datum about which the action of the drama revolves.Google Scholar

¹⁷ As Nilsson, , History of Greek Religion (n. 3) 194, states quite succinctly: ‘The hero-cult is more than any other apotropaeic; it is designed to appease the mighty dead, who are by no means slow to wrath.’ Although this point has been frequently made and illustrated in great detail by virtually every writer who has dealt with the subject, its applicability to heroes as dramatis personae has not been adequately recognized. Knox, Heroic Temper (n. 1) 55–58, is one of the few writers to emphasize the appropriateness of this material for understanding Sophocles. The harshness demonstrated by Sophoclean characters is quite in tune with the tenor of many cults and heroes. The harsh demeanor of these practices is in turn frequently explained in terms of the close connection of early cults and figures with questions surrounding the expiation of blood guilt.Google Scholar

¹⁸ Guthrie, (n. 3), Chap. III, ‘A Central Problem.’Google Scholar

¹⁹ Brelich, (n. 3) categorizes the major concerns of heroes as death, combat, contests, mantic powers, healing, the mysteries, transition to adulthood, blood groups, the state, and ‘attività umane’ in even more general terms. Although reviewers (e.g., Rose, H. J., Gnomon 31 [1959] 385–89) have objected to some of these categories — and especially the connection of heroic behavior with rites signifying a transition to adulthood — Brelich's morphological approach conveys an excellent sense of the range and variety of heroic activity. Of particular interest for this study are Brelich's comments (191–97) on Heracles as epitomization of what heroism meant to the Greeks in accordance with the categories of activities he established.Google Scholar

²⁰ Brelich, (n. 3) 233–48, deals with this aspect of heroism in a very direct and positive manner, and I concur with his conclusion that the harshness of these figures must be accepted on its own terms and not explained away.Google Scholar

²¹ Brelich, (n. 3) 230; Brelich (n. 8) quotes the following useful parallel from Kern's, O. Die Religion der Griechen I (Berlin 1926) 126: ‘Es gibt nichts Gleiches in der griechischen Religion… . In Herakles ist das hellenische Mannesideal verkörpert und dies Mannesideal gehört in dem Himmel — auf der Erde leben keine Ideale — und hat nur in der Göttin der ewigen Jugend seine würdige Partnerin.’Google Scholar

²² Guthrie, (n. 3) 238; Guthrie's pages on Heracles (235–41) offer a very convenient survey of the major dimensions of this figure.Google Scholar

²³ Although, as we shall see in the review of the literary evidence, there is some ambiguity about Heracles’ status in Homer, the author of the Nekyia at least assumes that Heracles has gained some form of divine status which Pindar was later to epitomize by the expression ἣϱως θεός (Nem. 3.22) and Herodotus (2.44) was to explain by postulating a double Heracles combining an Egyptian god and mortal son of Alcmene. Although it was interpreted in a variety of ways, Heracles’ acquisition of divinity was generally not questioned; in this respect he was unique among the Greek heroes. An interesting parallel to Heracles in this regard is Asclepius, who in some periods and locales is accorded Olympian status and privileges and in other times and places is considered only an important hero; see Guthrie's brief comments (n. 3) 242–53, and Farnell's excellent chapter (n. 3) 234–79. Comparisons between the two heroes are very instructive because the ambiguity about Asclepius’ status and the deliberate attempts to elevate him to Olympian rank point out the ‘stability’ of Heracles’ position in this regard.Google Scholar

²⁴ Fontenrose, J., Python (Berkeley 1959) 321. Although Fontenrose does not attempt an exhaustive analysis, the numerous parallels he offers between both Heracles and other figures who bring order and the hero's adventures and other mythical narratives provides a valuable supplement to the approaches of Brelich and Farnell (n. 3) and especially the former's morphological approaches (supra, n. 19).Google Scholar

²⁵ Perhaps the most serious losses are those of Plutarch's Life of Heracles, which would have offered a convenient compendium against and with which earlier traditions might be assessed, and of the four poems Stesichorus devoted to Heracles’ adventures. These were the Geryoneis, Cycnus, Cerberus, and Scylla, and although they mainly dealt with the hero's adventures in the West, their loss is a serious one for our understanding of Heracles. The fragments not only of these poems but also his other works that survive demonstrate how Stesichorus drew upon and combined various sources with great inventive skill to produce mythological narratives on an extended scale which profoundly influenced contemporary as well as subsequent art and literature. The fragment from the Geryoneis (PMG 8) that describes Heracles’ arrival in Erytheia in the cup of the sun provides an excellent example of Stesichorus’ narrative technique and raises intriguing questions as to how the poet construed various traditions to which he fell heir. For a very balanced appraisal of Stesichorus see Bowra, C. M., Greek Lyric Poetry ² (Oxford 1961) Chap. III.Google Scholar

²⁶ In assessing the literary tradition I am greatly indebted to Galinsky's, G. K. The Herakles Theme (Oxford 1972). Brommer's, F. Herakles: Die zwölf Taten des Helden in antiker Kunst und Literatur (Münster–Cologne 1953), Denkmälerlisten zur griechischen Heldensage I: Herakles (Marburg 1971), and Vasenlisten zur griechischen Heldensage ³ (Marburg 1973) are essential guides to the representations of Heracles in Greek art. The volume of this material is amazing: the third edition of the Vasenlisten gives 8,000 entries for Heracles which is approximately the total of the entries for all the heroes in the first edition, and in terms of raw bulk the first volume of Denkmälerlisten approaches that of the two subsequent volumes dealing with the other heroes. The objections that various reviewers have raised with respect to the format and categories Brommer employs in both the Denkmälerlisten and Vasenlisten are more than outweighed by the utility of the lists themselves. The volume of material is such that no single form of classification will ever prove adequate. I believe that the full significance of the material will not become apparent until it is somehow encoded and adapted to computer analysis, and, although this approach will not provide a universal panacea, it would make possible much more expeditious inquiries into multi-dimensional questions—such as the popularity of certain characters and themes in various periods—than present methods allow.Google Scholar

²⁷ Foucart, (n. 3) 20, believed Heracles to have been based on an actual Mycenaean chieftain. The introduction to Wilamowitz's Euripides Herakles ² (Berlin 1895) provides an excellent example of the common view of Heracles as a Dorian folk hero. Harrison's, J. E. discussion of Heracles as a year or solar figure, Themis (Cambridge 1912) 364–76 (cf. her Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion ² [Cambridge 1908] 346–49), offers an excellent example of the anthropological approach to which Foucart objected so strongly in his study. Paley, F. A., Sophocles, Vol. II (London 1880) 203–4, believed that it had been conclusively demonstrated that Heracles and his labors were a solar myth and described various aspects of the Trachiniae from that perspective. He was followed by Campbell, L., Sophocles, II (Oxford 1881) 240, who stressed, however, that this material was of little assistance for interpretation of the drama. On Heracles’ solar qualities see also Levy, G. R., The Oriental Origin of Herakles,’ JHS 54 (1934) 40–53, 45–48. Farnell's chapter, ‘Origin and Diffusion of the Cult of Herakles’ (n. 3) 95–154, contains a very balanced appraisal of these issues.Google Scholar

²⁸ The basic thrust of Fontenrose's chapter on Heracles (n. 24) is to establish this point as well as to parallel Heracles with Apollo and Zeus as an important ‘dragon fighter in the myth-making of the Greeks’ (358). The evidence he adduces is quite supportive of this view of the hero's curative activities on behalf of others as well as himself. In this respect Fontenrose's work parallels Farnell's remarks on Heracles as a ‘protector’ or ‘warder off (n. 3) 149–50, Brelich's emphasis on the ‘medical’ aspects of heroic behavior (n. 3) 113–17, and Delcourt's description of Heracles as a searcher for immortality and combater of death (n. 3) 135–36.Google Scholar

²⁹ Kirk, G. S., The Nature of Greek Myths (Woodstock 1975) 203. Kirk sees the contrast between Nature and Culture in the tension between Heracles” civilizing acts on the one hand and his bestial or unrestrained on the other. In describing this antinomy in Heracles which he believes goes back to the formative stages of Greek mythology, Kirk draws upon a similar tension he sees reflected in both the conduct of and the Greek attitude toward Centaurs and Cyclops and the sophistic balance of ϕύσις and νόμος (206–9 cf. 85–86). In so doing Kirk continues the structuralist approach of his earlier Sather Lectures, Myth, Its Meaning and Functions in Ancient and Other Cultures (Berkeley–Cambridge 1970), but his chapter on Heracles displays a somewhat more positive stance toward the hero, whom he described as ‘for the most part an uninteresting performer’ in his earlier work (187). Although I believe the structuralist approach is limited, it does provide a conceptual framework that is broad enough to accommodate Heracles’ diversity. There can also be little doubt that the general tension between Nature and Culture emphasized by the structuralists was keenly felt by the Greeks themselves; see Segal, C., ‘The Raw and the Cooked in Greek Literature: Structure, Values, Metaphor,’ CW 69 (1974) 289–308.Google Scholar

³⁰ It is interesting to note that, while the sites of a number of Heracles’ labors remained static, the location of others moved as Greek knowledge of the world about them expanded; for example, the Geryon story, which at an early date becomes associated with the Greek far west, may originally have been located much closer to if not in mainland Greece, and in a similar fashion Heracles’ bondage to Omphale appears to have been transferred to Lydia from Greece (cf. Farnell [n. 3] 140–41, Kirk, Nature … [n. 29] 197–98). Heracles’ early connections with Tiryns are well attested, and as has often been noted his bondage to Eurystheus of Argos may reflect the political realities of the Mycenaean world (on this last topic see D. L. Page's chapter, ‘The Homeric Description of Mycenaean Greece,’ in his Sather Lectures [n. 12] 118–77). Arguments from this last perspective must, however, be used with caution since, as Finley's, M. I. ‘Homer and Mycenae: Property and Tenure,’ Historia 6 (1957) 133–59, illustrates quite clearly, certain basic governmental and institutional practices of the Mycenaean era were either misunderstood or simply not known in subsequent eras. On Friedländer's, P. attempt to explain Heracles on almost exclusively Tirynthian terms in his Herakles, Philologische Untersuchungen 19 (Berlin 1907), see Farnell's comments and discussion (n. 3) 103–6. One of the most important points that emerges from the latter's remarks is that the popularity of Heracles in the Peloponnesus antedates the arrival of the Dorians in the area. Farnell (113–35) also demonstrated that, while Heracles and the supposed connection of his stock to the Dorians was frequently invoked (and often quite blatantly for political purposes), Heracles was rarely, if ever, subject to enthusiastic devotion by the Dorian peoples.Google Scholar

³¹ Heracles, ’ ‘northern connections’ are examined in considerable detail by Wilamowitz [n. 27], and his importance in Boeotia has frequently been explained by postulating that the mythical Heracles was originally a ‘decayed’ or ‘faded’ god of the region. As Parke, H. W. and Wormell, D. E. W. (The Delphic Oracle, 2 Vols. [Oxford 1956], I, 340–43) have shown, support for this contention is provided by a number of local myths and cult practices of the area. The story of Heracles’ and Apollo's contest for the Delphic tripod supplements this position in a significant manner (see also Farnell [n. 3] 135–37). Nevertheless, as both Farnell, 103–5, and Delcourt (n. 3) 119–20, make quite clear, Heracles cannot be completely ‘explained’ in these terms any more than in light of the diverse Peloponnesian traditions. What does become clear is that the mythical Heracles drew upon a number of different sources and was an extremely ‘composite’ figure from a very early date; see Nilsson's excellent discussion of these issues, Mycenaean Origin of Greek Mythology (n. 9) Chap. III. I do not, however, think it is either feasible or appropriate to follow Levy's, G. R. path (n. 27) and trace Heracles back to a Near Eastern vegetation deity.Google Scholar

³² This can be demonstrated by his appearances in works of art, the mythical narratives about his adventures in all parts of the Greek world, and the growth and popularity of his cults. Another factor which aided in the dispersion of his popularity was that, unlike most other heroes, he was not associated with a particular burial place.Google Scholar

³³ Guthrie, (n. 3) 239–41, offers an excellent précis for the rationale behind Heracles’ popular appeal. Heracles epitomized human confidence and accomplishment in very accessible terms and, as Wilamowitz, Der Glaube der Hellenen (Berlin 1932) II, 24–26, observed with particular eloquence, Heracles was not bound by the sense of social restraint and propriety, αἰδς, that so marks and limits the actions and responses of the aristocratic heroes of the epics.Google Scholar

³⁴ As noted (supra, n. 26), in assessing the literary tradition I am deeply indebted to Galinsky's The Herakles Theme. I do not, however, agree with his belief that ‘Homer found Heracles basically unsuitable for his aims’ (9), a contention he supports by maintaining that Heracles does not demonstrate proper θέμις or αἰδς (cf. Wilamowitz [n. 33] 26). To construe Heracles in this manner is, in my opinion, too restrictive. Another useful survey of the evidence on Heracles from early Greek literature is provided by Huxley's, G. L. Greek Epic Poetry (London 1969), Chap. VIII.Google Scholar

³⁵ The provocative phrase ἐν Πύλῳ ἐν νεϰύεσσι (Il. 5.397) has occasioned considerable discussion; I concur with the sentiments voiced by Nilsson, Mycenaean Origins of Greek Mythology (n. 9) 202–4, and Fontenrose (n. 24) 327–30, that it is a strong indication that the Homeric account masks a much older tale of Heracles in direct combat with death.Google Scholar

³⁶ The importance of this motif to the epic as a whole has long been recognized and is brilliantly discussed in such studies as Finley's, M. I. The World of Odysseus (London 1954), but, while it is clear that the epic poet regards Heracles’ conduct as a breach of this convention of behavior, he simultaneously acknowledges Heracles’ heroic ability to perform (cf. Od. 21.25–30). The need for Homeric heroes to perform, the Greek emphasis on performance as a basis for ‘value’ judgments, and the continuing influence of this attitude on Greek ethics form the subject of Adkins, A. W. H.’ Merit and Responsibility (Oxford 1960). His remarks on Homer in that work (Chap. III) are significantly supplemented in his “‘Honour” and “Punishment” in the Homeric Poems,’ BICS 7 (1960) 23–32. Adkins’ stress on performance has been questioned in a very suggestive manner by Long, A. A., ‘Morals and Values in Homer,’ JHS 90 (1970) 121–39. Long emphasizes the sense of propriety that is felt by heroes and society and sees in it an important restraint on behavior. Although, as Adkins’ reply makes clear, ‘Homeric Values and Homeric Society,’ JHS 91 (1971) 1–14, the debate is far from resolved, I believe that in assessing such a passage as the opening of Od. 21 both sets of demands, performance and propriety — here in the form of ξενία — must be taken into consideration. The precise nature of their interrelationship is often unclear, and there are considerable deviations in emphasis in the balance of these factors with one another throughout the epics. Consequently I cannot share Galinsky's view that the Odyssey passage is ‘one of the most devastating indictments of Heracles in literature, exceeded only by Sophocles, and the shrill bias of the church fathers’ (n. 26, 12). It is instead a passage which not only reflects a very old view of Heracles (supra, n. 35) but also one which draws our attention to the ironies and harshness of heroic behavior in much more pointed fashion than the Homeric Hymn to Heracles (15). In this very short work we can observe both an early juxtaposition of Heracles’ Theban and Peloponnesian roots as well as the paradoxical line ‘he did many wicked things (ἀτάσθαλα) and endured many’ (6), to describe the rationale behind his entry into Olympus.Google Scholar

³⁷ Galinsky, (n. 26) 11, believes that, since Odysseus is referring to heroes who contend with gods (cf. Od. 8.255), the reference to Heracles is ‘ambiguous.’ The phrasing of the passage as a whole, however, suggests that the poet is making a distinction between Heracles and Eurytus as well as describing their prowess and, although the latter's death is attributed to his direct attempts to rival Apollo, there is nothing to imply that the same charge is applicable to Heracles.Google Scholar

³⁸ Galinsky (n. 26) 14. In accordance with his view that Heracles and his conduct are anomalies in the world of the epics (supra, n. 34), Galinsky believes this is ‘entirely appropriate’ since Achilles has set himself apart from the commonly accepted code of behavior. This position may be too limiting; I believe that the passage should be taken at face value and Achilles should be understood as simply making the strongest case he can by appealing to the greatest example of heroic conduct.Google Scholar

³⁹ See Galinsky's, excellent comments (n. 26) 12–14. The emphasis on toil and endurance as the essential characteristic of both heroes’ lives is conveyed by the iconography of Heracles’ baldric as well as the content of his speech. On the importance of this theme for the epic as a whole see Dimock's, G. E. well-known essay, ‘The Name of Odysseus,’ which first appeared in the Hudson Review 9.1 (1956) 52–70. On the complex question whether or not the passage reveals Homer's knowledge if not acceptance of hero-cults and Heracles’ heroic status see Hack and Price (n. 12). In his recent study, ‘Heracles,’ CW 71 (1978) 431–40, Philips, F. C. comments on the questions surrounding Heracles’ origins and his appearances in Homer and Hesiod and suggests that possibly Homer introduced the notion of Heracles’ assumption of divine or Olympian status.Google Scholar

⁴⁰ There is little that can be added to Galinsky's (n. 26) and Huxley's (n. 34) discussions of the references to Heracles in the Hesiodic corpus or such works as Peisandrus’ Heracleia or Creophylus of Samos’ Sack of Oechalia. The evidence that survives demonstrates beyond doubt the widespread familiarity of the Greeks with Heracles’ career from an early date and the ‘incidental’ references to Heracles in the Theogony underscore his paradigmatic qualities (cf. Galinsky, , 16, and West's, M. L. commentary, Hesiod: Theogony [Oxford 1966]). The Hesiodic Shield of Heracles parallels and contrasts with the description of his baldric in the Nekyia and Achilles’ shield in Il. 18 in a number of significant ways. The Hesiodic Shield does not convey the ‘generic’ emphasis on toil as an essential component of heroic life that characterizes the former, and lacks both the paradigmatic quality and sense of mint construction conveyed by Achilles’ shield. To what extent these characteristics of the Shield are an indication of the poet's private talents or even, possibly, his desires to reflect the political tensions and allegiances at the time of the First Sacred War (cf. Huxley, , 110–11) is uncertain, but about his desire to present Heracles in full ‘Homeric’ splendor in a narrative situation that may originally have been much cruder (cf. Fontenrose [n. 24] Chap. II) there can be no doubt. The references to Heracles in the fragments of lyric poetry demonstrate an intensification of elements already visible in Homer rather than striking novelties (this, however, was probably not the case with Stesichorus’ four lost works; supra, n. 25); they do indicate, however, that by the end of the archaic era there was no better known or more widely accepted heroic paradigm than Heracles.Google Scholar

⁴¹ See Galinsky, (n. 26) Chap. II, ‘Herakles in Transition: Pindar and Bacchylides.’Google Scholar

⁴² See Galinsky, (n. 26) 25–40. The most complete evidence for Bacchylides’ attitude to Heracles is provided by Epinician 5; I concur with Lefkowitz's, M. R. view of Heracles as a traditional hero in that work, ‘Bacchylides Ode 5: Imitation and Originality,’ HSCP 73 (1969) 45–96. On Bacchylides’ style see Kirkwood, G. M., ‘The Narrative Art of Bacchylides,’ The Classical Tradition, ed. Wallach, L. J. (Ithaca 1966) 98–114.Google Scholar

⁴³ This element is stressed by Galinsky, throughout his discussion of Pindar (n. 26) 29–38, but, while Pindar did stress the ‘positive’ aspects of Heracles’ use of force, we must also remember that the context within which he did so was considerably limited by his own aristocratic perspective. This blend of old and new is quite evident throughout his corpus and sometimes provokes somewhat startling juxtapositions of concepts, as in the famous fragment (169) which begins ‘law is the king of all’ and then continues by illustrating this maxim by an apparent act of brigandage on Heracles’ part. In addition to Galinsky's comments (33–35) see M. Ostwald, ‘Pindar, Nomos, and Heracles,’ HSCP 69 (1965) 109–38, and Pavese, C., ‘The New Heracles Poem of Pindar,’ HSCP 72 (1967) 47–88. The significance of Ostwald's remarks on Pindar becomes more apparent when considered in light of his Nomos and the Beginnings of the Athenian Democracy (Oxford 1969); see also De Romilly, J., La loi dans la pensée grecque (Paris 1971). Pindar's reactionary tendencies in this age of dynamic political and social change have often been noted and are summarized well by Bowra, C. M. in his chapter, ‘Echoes of Politics,’ Pindar (Oxford 1964), and Kagan's, D. ‘The Aristocratic Response: Theognis and Pindar,’ The Great Dialogue (New York 1965). A somewhat more ‘democratic’ stance to Heracles may have been taken by Aeschylus in his Prometheia trilogy and, although the reconstruction of Heracles’ role is largely hypothetical, there can be little doubt that Heracles was presented in a positive manner and possibly as a more advanced cutural hero than Prometheus; see Galinsky 42–46 and Solmsen, F., Hesiod and Aeschylus (Ithaca 1949) Pt. II, Chap. II.Google Scholar

⁴⁴ See Galinsky, (supra, n. 26) 101–3. The depth of the hero's intellectual dimension should not be overestimated; the situation with which he is presented by Prodicus is readily comprehensible, and Heracles’ selection does not depend on broad theoretical considerations. What is ‘new’ is the sense of awareness the hero displays to the issues. This combination of awareness and service pro bono publico became a hallmark of representations of Heracles in the fourth century and can be seen most clearly in Isocrates’ use of Heracles as a paradigm for Philip of Macedon (cf. Or. 5 and Galinsky's comments 103–7). On the transition of Heracles from a physical to intellectual or moral hero see also Woodford, S., ‘Exemplum Virtutis: A Study of Heracles in Athens in the Second Half of the Fifth Century’ (diss., Columbia University 1967). Woodford describes Prodicus’ Choice as a turning point for the intellectual appreciation of the figure of Heracles (129, cf. 262–64). Woodford's study offers a valuable supplement to Galinsky, and her discussion of the archaeological evidence is very important for understanding Heracles’ position and role in fifth-century Athens.Google Scholar

⁴⁵ See Galinsky's, survey (n. 26), Chap. IV, ‘The Comic Hero’; his remarks on the manner in which the Greeks ‘reconciled’ the comic and serious Heracles are very appropriate (96–98).Google Scholar

⁴⁶ See Galinsky's, remarks on the Frogs (n. 26) 89–91 and Whitman's, C. H. chapter on the play, ‘Death and Life,’ Aristophanes and the Comic Hero (Cambridge, Mass. 1964) 228–58.Google Scholar

⁴⁷ See Brommer's, table, Herakles (n. 26) 54, and attendant note, 95. Although Brommer's study is restricted to representations of the δωδεϰάεθλος — in accordance with his thesis that the earliest appearance of this later canonic group was on the metopes of the temple of Zeus at Olympia—the general trends Brommer discerned in the representations of Heracles have been accepted by most critics and form the basis of my remarks.Google Scholar

⁴⁸ My comments on the structure as a whole are drawn primarily from: Dinsmoor, W. B., The Architecture of Ancient Greece ³ (New York–London 1950) 138–39; Picard, C., de la Coste-Messelière, P., Art archaïque: Les trésors ‘Ioniques,’ Fouilles de Delphes, IV. 2 (Paris 1928); Poulsen (n. 11), Chap. VIII; Richter, G. M. A., The Sculpture and Sculptors of the Greeks ⁴ (New Haven–London 1970) 6, 43–44, 82–83, 94–95 (see also her Archaic Greek Art Against Its Historical Background [New York 1949] 100f.); Robertson, M., A History of Greek Art, 2 Vols. (Cambridge 1975) 86, 152–59. These studies concentrate primarily on the lavish nature of the decoration and the contents of the continuous frieze which here made its first appearance in its ‘canonical’ position above the architrave.Google Scholar

⁴⁹ Ridgway, B. S., ‘The East Pediment of the Siphnian Treasury: A Reinterpretation,’ AJA 69 (1965) 1–5, conclusively identified the central figure to be Zeus. Her discussion of the iconography has done much to dispel criticism of the composition as a whole (cf. Poulsen's description of the group as ‘bungling’ [n. 14] 111, and E. Lapalus’ comments on the imbalance of the pediment, La fronton sculpté en Grèce [Paris 1947] 128–30).Google Scholar

⁵⁰ Parke, H. W. and Boardman, J., ‘The Struggle for the Tripod and the First Sacred War,’ JHS 77 (1957) 276–82. Parke and Boardman make a very good case that the subsequent popularity of the scene as an artistic motif may have derived from its use to commemorate the victory of the Delphians. In addition to the examples cited by Parke and Boardman, the lists compiled by Brommer, , Vasenlisten (n. 26), give ample proof of the popularity of the motif in the period. In fact, as Ridgway (n. 49) 4–5, observes, confusion about the identity of the central figure was prompted in no small part by the chauvinism of Attic painters who very frequently employed Athena as the moderator. It is interesting to note in this connection that after the Athenians were compelled to leave Boeotia in 446 — a date that is significantly close to the most likely one for the Trachiniae (infra, n. 59) — the Thebans issued a series of coinage in which Heracles figured prominently, and, as Kraay, C. M., Archaic and Classical Greek Coins (London 1976), observes, ‘the type showing Heracles stealing the Delphic tripod must surely be intended to recall the recent elimination of Athenian influence from central Greece and consequent freeing of the sanctuary from Athenian control’ (111). Kraay's study demonstrates from yet another perspective the universal popularity of Heracles throughout the Greek world, for, while many of his appearances on Greek coins can be explained in terms of specific local and political motives, many others appear to be prompted by little more than general admiration for the hero.Google Scholar

⁵¹ This is demonstrated by the manner in which the boldly striding Heracles balances the figures of Apollo and Artemis, and the diagonals formed by the lines of the gods’ arms are continued by the legs of the tripod across the figure of Zeus toward the hero's head and shoulders. Heracles’ importance would also have been pointed out by the manner in which the artist of the north frieze, which faced upon the Sacred Way, depicted him fighting on behalf of the gods against the giants.Google Scholar

⁵² In addition to the works by Dinsmoor, , Poulsen, , Richter, , and Robertson, cited before (n. 48), see Audiat, J., Le Trésor des Athéniens , Fouilles de Delphes, II (Paris 1933), P. de la Coste-Messelière, Sculpture du Trésor des Athéniens, Fouilles de Delphes IV. 4 (Paris 1957), Picard, C., Manuel d'archéologie Grecque, II La Sculpture: Période classique (Paris 1939) 24–33. Two older studies by Agard, W. R., ‘The Date of the Metopes of the Athenian Treasury at Delphi,’ AJA 27 (1923) 174–84, and ‘The Metopes of the Athenian Treasury as Works of Art,’ AJA 27 (1923) 322–33, continue to offer a sound introduction to the iconography of the building. The basic problem that besets interpretation is the date of the structure. The French have tended to accept the witness of Pausanias (10.11.5) and believe the building to be a memorial to Athenian prowess at Marathon. This view has been challenged on technical grounds for a variety of reasons ranging from use of decorative motifs to the types of clamps employed to secure the stones in place; see, for example, Dinsmoor's, W. B. ‘The Athenian Treasury as Dated by its Ornament,’ AJA 50 (1946) 86–121, and Richter's, G. M. A. review of Picard's Manuel, AJA 49 (1945) 386–88. Dinsmoor, and Richter, (see also her Archaic Greek Art [n. 48]) believe that the building dates from 510–50 when, with the advent of the Cleisthenic constitution, the young Athenian democracy could reward Pythia for her intervention in Athenian politics (Dinsmoor). I believe that the iconography and mixture of styles and hands in the decorative sculpture (see above Agard, ‘Date …,’ and de la Coste-Messelière, Sculpture 246–48 and Pl. 98) are much more adequately explained by the later date.Google Scholar

⁵³ See Robertson, (n. 48) 171 and Picard, C., ‘Les frontons du Trésor des Athéniens à Delphes, RA 25 (1946) 214–16. Coulton, J. J., Ancient Greek Architects at Work (Ithaca 1977) 88–90, comments very suggestively on the size and scale of the building and the manner in which by such slight modifications as wider intercolumniation and use of thinner columns the architect achieved a much greater sense of monumentality than might be expected with such a small building.Google Scholar

⁵⁴ As both Mylonas, (n. 11) 77–78, and Nilsson, , Greek Folk Religion (New York 1961 = Greek Popular Religion [New York 1940]) 60, observe, when in the latter part of the sixth century and the opening decades of the fifth the Eleusinian Mysteries became a Greek and not just an Athenian cult Heracles played an important role. Together with the Dioscuroi he was ‘adopted’ by Athenian sponsors and initiated into the Greater and Lesser Mysteries; one Athenian tradition even went so far as to assert that the Lesser Mysteries had themselves been instituted for the benefit of Heracles (Mylonas 240; see also his comments on representations of Heracles at the Mysteries, 206–12).Google Scholar

⁵⁵ An important study on the subject is Woodford's, S. ‘Cults of Heracles in Attica,’ Studies Presented to G. M. A. Hanfmann, Fogg Art Museum Harvard University Monographs in Art and Archaeology II, edd. Mitten, D. G., Pedley, J. G., Scott, J. A. (Mainz 1971) 211–25. See also Farnell (n. 3) 107–11 and Nilsson's Cults, Myths, Oracles, and Politics in Ancient Greece (n. 3) 53–54. The evidence these scholars adduce to show the relative popularity of Heracles over Theseus can now be readily supplemented by Brommer's Denkmälerlisten and Vasenlisten (n. 26). The esteem with which the Athenians regarded Heracles is indicated not only in his role in the Eleusinian Mysteries (supra, n. 54) but also the belief that Marathon (and therefore Athens by implication) was the first state to consecrate divine worship to Heracles (Paus. 1.15.3). On Peisistratos’ use and manipulation of the figure of Heracles for political purposes see Boardman, J., ‘Herakles, Peisistratos and Sons,’ RA 1972, fasc. 1, 57–72, and ‘Heracles, Peisistratos and Eleusis,’ JHS 95 (1975) 1–12.Google Scholar

⁵⁶ There has been considerable debate about both the sequence and subject of the metopes (and especially those from the North face). De la Coste-Messelière, Sculpture du Trésor des Atheniens (n. 52) provides the following — South: Theseus and Sinis, Theseus and brigand, Theseus and Kerkyon, Theseus and Athena, Theseus and Marathonian Bull, Theseus and Minotaur, and Theseus and Amazon; North: Heracles and Nemean Lion, Heracles and Centaur, Heracles and Atlas, Heracles and Hind, and Heracles and an Amazon. The prominent role Heracles played in the sculpture of this monument was due not only to his Pan-Hellenic prominence but also specific connections with Marathon and the battle; the Marathonians claimed that they had been the first to recognize Heracles as a god (supra, n. 55), the Greek army encamped in a sanctuary of Heracles before the actual battle and again in another sanctuary of the hero (Kynosarges) after the battle when they withdrew to Athens to prevent another landing (cf. Her. 6.108, 116). The relative importance of Heracles and Theseus to one another in Attic iconography and ‘thought’ is a very difficult question. It is frequently implied, if not openly stated (cf. Nilsson, Cults, Myths, Oracles, and Politics in Ancient Greece [n. 3] 55 and Greek Folk Religion [n. 54] 57), that Theseus is a more civilized and less ‘mythical’ hero than Heracles. In an abstract sense this may be correct, but Heracles and his exploits were always much better known, and when the two heroes are juxtaposed the basic point or frame of reference is Heracles and not Theseus.Google Scholar

⁵⁷ De la Coste-Messelière's initial hypothesis, ‘Observations sur les sculptures du trésor des Athéniens,’ BCH 47 (1923) 387–419, was that the East pediment was centered not on one group but on two, the contest of Apollo and Heracles for the tripod to the right and the apotheosis of Heracles to the left (393–94). After Audiat's (n. 52) revision of de la Coste-Messelière's assignment of the geison blocks, Picard and de la Coste-Messèliere, La sculpture grecque à Delphes (Paris 1929), asserted that the subject was the apotheosis of Heracles ‘sans doute’ (24). In 1938 de la Coste-Messelière, , ‘Frontons Delphiques,’ Annales de l'École des Hautes Études de Gand II (1938) 109–23, argued that the subject was an encounter between Heracles and Theseus with Athena in the center (122), a proposal that he reiterated in the Fouilles des Delphes (n. 52) 178. Although in 1939 Picard, Manuel d'Archéologie Grecque (n. 52) 26, continued, but with less conviction, his belief that the subject was Heracles’ apotheosis, in his note ‘Les frontons du Trésor des Athéniens à Delphes’ (n. 53) Picard proposed that the pedimental group was possibly Theseus and Perithous centered on Apollo on the voyage to Hades, whence they will be rescued by Heracles, . This suggestion was seconded by Lapalus (n. 49) 161–64, who developed Picard's proposals from a slightly different perspective. The common factor that binds all these proposals, as well as those for the even more fragmentary remains of the West pediment, together is the conviction which the authors express about the importance of Heracles’ role in the iconography of the building. If we bear in mind the general popularity of Heracles as a subject for pedimental sculpture (cf. Lapalus’ table [n. 49] 458–62), and that the apotheosis of Heracles was among the topics drawn from the hero's career that had already figured in the archaic pedimental sculpture on the Acropolis (see Richter [n. 48] 4), the appropriateness of his presence on this structure celebrating the great Athenian victory at Marathon is even less surprising.Google Scholar

⁵⁸ My remarks on the structure are especially indebted to the following studies: Dinsmoor, W. B., Observations on the Hephaisteion, Hesperia Suppl. V, 1941; Thompson, H. A. and Wycherley, R. E., The Athenian Agora, XIV: The Agora of Athens (Princeton 1972) 140–49; Olsen, E. C., ‘An Interpretation of the Hephaisteion Reliefs,’ AJA 42 (1938) 276–87; Thompson, H. A., ‘The Pedimental Sculpture of the Hephaisteion,’ Hesperia 18 (1949) 230–68. Woodford (n. 44) Chap. 11, offers a very convenient survey of the structure and the different ways in which various features have been reconstructed and interpreted; Woodford also sees a marked continuity between the Treasury at Delphi and the Hephaisteion (cf. 228–32). Morgan's, C. H. four-part study, ‘The Sculptures of the Hephaisteion,’ Hesperia 31 (1962) 210–19, 221–35, Hesperia 32 (1963) 92–108, offers a very suggestive hypothesis about the chronology of the building's construction as well as comments on the sculpture; see also Harrison's, E. B. detailed studies of the cult figures, ‘Alkamenes’ Sculptures for the Hephaisteion,’ AJA 81 (1977) 137–78, 265–87, 411–26 and Wycherley's, R. E. response to H. Koch's thesis (Studien zum Theseustempel in Athen [Berlin 1955]) that the temple was dedicated to Heracles and Theseus in his ‘The Temple of Hephaistos,’ JHS 79 (1959) 153–56.Google Scholar

⁵⁹ One of the most constant preoccupations of Sophoclean scholarship has been the question of the date of the Trachiniae, and a considerable literature has developed on the topic. Using a wide variety of techniques and approaches, critics have assigned the drama to virtually every period of Sophocles’ long career. At one extreme, for example, Ronnet (n. 1) 323–24, believes that the drama is a young man's manifesto against the Dorian ideal of the archaic age and dates the play to ca. 464–62; at the other, Perrotta, G., Sofocle (Messina–Milan 1935) 526–58, asserted that the drama demonstrated profound Euripidean influence and dated the play to the same period as the Philoctetes (409). These extreme views have not won many converts (cf. Knox's comments on Ronnet's thesis in his review [n. 1] and Earp's, F. comments on Perrotta, ‘The Trachiniae,’ CR 53 [1939] 113–15), and most critics have assigned it to a very loosely defined ‘middle period.’ In the first part of this century scholars tended to assign the play to ca. 420 on the basis of what they felt was strong Euripidean influence in terms of dramaturgy and character portrayal. As time progressed the inclination to regard the play as earlier has grown, and the same evidence which had been employed to demonstrate Euripidean influence on Sophocles has been used to prove Sophoclean priority (cf., e.g., Schwinge, E. R., Die Stellung der Trachinierinnen im Werk des Sophokles, Hypomnemata I [Göttingen 1962]). Although the various ‘conclusive’ arguments have not succeeded in resolving the question of the Trachiniae's date and have, unfortunately, been undertaken to imply a series of value judgments on the merits of the dramas involved (e.g., Harsh's, P. W. very sharp appraisal of the Trachiniae as an inferior imitation of the Heracles Furens in his A Handbook of Classical Drama [Stanford 1944, 1948] 129–32), they have been of considerable service in demonstrating the range and types of dramatic cross-influences in the fifth century. The question of Sophocles’ influence on Bacchylides or vice versa, and Aeschylean influence (and especially the parallels with the situation and characters of the Oresteia), have also been examined in some detail (e.g., Kapsomenos, S. G., Sophokles’ Trachinierinnen und ihr Vorbild [Athens 1963]), and discussions of the parallels with the characters and situation of the Oresteia are very useful in demonstrating the sophistication of Sophocles’ play (I do not concur with Hoey's, T. F. thesis, ‘The Trachiniae and the Early Forms of Tragedy,’ Helios 5 [1977] 47–53, that the dramaturgy of the play is relatively undeveloped). Convenient surveys of the various issues and problems involved are offered in the following works : G. M. Kirk-wood's Appendix, ‘On the Approximate Date of The Trachinian Women,’ A Study of Sophoclean Drama (Ithaca 1958) 289–94; Pohlsander, H. A., ‘Lyrical Meters and Chronology in Sophocles,’ AJP 84 (1963) 280–86, Sorum, C. E., ‘Monsters and the Family’ (diss., Brown University 1975), Appendix II; and Whitman's, C. H. Chapter (III) on the chronology of the extant dramas (n. 2). In my opinion the most likely date for the drama is relatively soon after and at most a decade later than the Antigone (442?).Google Scholar

⁶⁰ Olsen, (n. 58) 277; this emphasis was underscored by placement of the temple on the edge of the agora nearest the metal workers’ quarter and the presence of dual cult statues to Hephaistos and Athena within the cella; on the iconography of the latter see Harrison's studies (n. 58).Google Scholar

⁶¹ Olsen, (n. 58) 286; as a number of commentators have observed, this ‘oblique’ approach was necessary since the myths and legends surrounding the god did not offer many specific examples of the god's direct intervention into human affairs.Google Scholar

⁶² Lion, Nemean, Hydra, , Hind, , Boar, Erymanthian, Mares of Diomedes, Cerberus, Heracles and Hippolyta, Geryon (2 metopes), and the Apples of the Hesperides. This collocation of subjects demonstrates quite clearly that, while the canonic δωδεϰάεθλος per se might not yet have emerged, a strong sense of a formal group of Heracles’ most important labors was already well recognized in the period.Google Scholar

⁶³ North face: Periphetes, Kerkyon, Skiron, Krommyon Sow.Google Scholar

South face : Procrustes, Sinis, Marathonian Bull, and Minotaur; see Morgan (n. 58) Pt. I, 213–14, on the confusion over the identification of the Periphetes and Procrustes metopes.

⁶⁴ See Olsen, (n. 58) 281, Thompson, and Wycherley, , The Athenian Agora (n. 58) 147, and Morgan (n. 58) Pt. II, 222.Google Scholar

⁶⁵ See Dinsmoor, (n. 48) 180, and Coulton (n. 53) 117; see also Coulton's comments on the manner in which the Hephaisteion architect experimented with the ‘standard’ proportions in laying out the structure (64–65).Google Scholar

⁶⁶ Our appreciation for the sense of unit construction created by the juxtaposition of these two decorative elements should be further increased if we bear in mind that the frieze was executed ‘at least twenty, and possibly fifty, years after the metopes of the building,’ Morgan (n. 58) Pt. II, 232.Google Scholar

⁶⁷ Thompson, (n. 58) 245–46; as Thompson observes (231), B. Sauer's reconstruction of the East pediment as a representation of the birth of Erichthonios on the basis of his detailed examination of the cuttings in pediment floors (Das sogenannte Theseion und sein plastischer Schmuck [Leipzig 1899]) aroused considerable skepticism. Dinsmoor, W. B., ‘The Lost Pedimental Sculptures at Bassae,’ AJA 43 (1939) 27–47, believed the sculptures had been carried off to Rome and described the occurrence as ‘a case of vandalism so current in the days of the Roman empire’ (27). Morgan (n. 58) Pt. III, 92–94, does not accept Thompson's proposal and on the basis of analogies with the Parthenon argues that the theme was the birth of Athena.Google Scholar

⁶⁸ Thompson, (n. 58) 245–46.Google Scholar

⁶⁹ Thompson, (n. 58) 248–51; because he believes the subject of the pedimental group was the birth of Athena, Morgan (n. 58) Pt. III, Appendix III, 97–98, does not concur, but offers no alternative suggestion.Google Scholar

⁷⁰ See Olsen, (n. 58) 281–84, and Morgan (n. 58) Pt. II, 222–23.Google Scholar

⁷¹ On the basis of recent discoveries and re-examination of earlier evidence the identification of the West pediment as a centauromachy now seems without question; see Thompson, and Wycherley, (n. 58) 148 and Harrison, E. B. (Report of paper delivered at Fifty-Seventh General Meeting of the Archaeological Institute of America) AJA 60 (1956) 178.Google Scholar

⁷² Even if we discount Thompson's thesis that the East pediment depicted his apotheosis, Heracles’ presence on the East metopes demonstrates his importance and relative superiority over Theseus. The suggestion advanced by Thompson, and Wycherley, (n. 58) 148–49, that the sculptors exploited the figure of Heracles on the Hephaisteion to compensate for a lack of prominent monuments in his honor on nearby cult shrines, underestimates Heracles’ general importance to the Athenians of the period, which is indicated not only by the Hephaisteion but also by his possible appearance on the pedimental sculpture of the Parthenon; see Robertson (n. 48) 302.Google Scholar

⁷³ In addition to the general surveys of Dinsmoor, , Richter, , and Robertson, (n. 48) and Brommer's Herakles (n. 26), my remarks on the temple are particularly indebted to B. Ashmole and N. Yalouris, Olympia: The Sculptures of the Temple of Zeus (London 1967) and Ashmole's, B. Architect and Sculptor in Classical Greece (New York 1972).Google Scholar

⁷⁴ Ashmole, (n. 73) 61. The figure of Heracles also appeared prominently on the interior decorations and ornamentation of the colossal statue of Zeus by Pheidias that was added later; see Robertson (n. 48) 317–18.Google Scholar

⁷⁵ Pollitt, J. J., Art and Experience in Classical Greece (Cambridge 1972) 50; cf. 24: ‘Perhaps it is not too reckless to say that when the designer of the metopes of the temple of Zeus at Olympia decided to show Herakles at different stages of his life and in different states of mind, he did so because he intuitively felt that these qualified conditions were stages in a meaningful scheme of things.’ Pollitt also offers an interesting series of analogies between the sculpture of the temple as a whole and the Oresteia (27–36).Google Scholar

⁷⁶ Character and action were presented primarily through words and not deeds on the Attic stage, and this emphasis, which may initially appear to be a major limitation from our perspective, was, in the hands of the Attic dramatists, a major source of the power of their dramas. I am especially indebted to the following studies which approach the genre from this perspective: Arnott, P. D., An Introduction to the Greek Theatre (London 1959, 1962), Greek Scenic Conventions (Oxford 1962), A. M. Dale, ‘Ethos and Dianoia: “Character” and “Thought” in Aristotle's Poetics,’ AUMLA 11 (1959) 3–16 and Jones, J., On Aristotle and Greek Tragedy (London 1962). Walcot's, P. Greek Drama in its Theatrical and Social Context (Cardiff 1976) supplements these studies in a very useful manner; his discussions of the role of action and the influence of the courts on the Attic stage are especially suggestive and judicious. The impact of the latter must not be underestimated; Athenian drama was in many respects much more allied to the courts than the cults: see Duchemin, J., l'Ἀγὼν dans la tragédie grecque (Paris 1945) and Strohm, H., Euripides, Zetemata 15 (Munich 1957). Although Strohm's focus is not on Sophocles, he makes many sound observations on the impact of the courts on the genre and Sophocles’ use of these dramatic patterns.Google Scholar

⁷⁷ Hendrickson, G. L., ‘The Heracles Myth and Its Treatment by Euripides,’ Classical Studies in Honor of Charles Foster Smith , University of Wisconsin Studies in Language and Literature 3 (Madison 1919) 11–29, 14; see also Campbell's incidental remarks (n. 27) 238. Ehrenberg, V., Tragic Heracles,’ Aspects of the Ancient World (Oxford 1946) 144–66, 146, and Conradie, P. J., Herakles in die Griekse Tragedie (Groningen 1958) Chapter I, both believe that Heracles’ ‘success’ as a comic figure impeded his use on the tragic stage. Although Galinsky's chapter, ‘The Tragic Hero’ (n. 26), offers an appropriate balance to this view, I believe that, so far as the evidence allows us to judge, Heracles’ appearances on the Attic stage were relatively rare in light of his general cultural significance. Because he stood for so many things in so many ways, Heracles was a very hard character for any dramatist to present in a convincing manner and, as the literature on other dramas where he figures in the action such as the Alcestis, Heracles Furens, and Philoctetes demonstrates, Heracles’ appearances in these dramas has been the source of considerable critical debate and speculation as well.Google Scholar

⁷⁸ Consider, for example, the studies of Adams, S. M., Sophocles the Playwright (Toronto 1957) 108–9, and Bowra, C. M., Sophoclean Tragedy (Oxford 1944) 131–32, who, while they acknowledge Heracles’ heroic status and the audience's familiarity with Heracles as a cult figure, do not make effective use of these factors in their comments on the drama. Knox's Heroic Temper (n. 1) 54–58, conveys an excellent sense of the impact of the traditional concept of heroism on Sophocles but, paradoxically, does not apply it to the figure of Heracles in the Trachiniae. Holt, P., ‘The Imagery of Sophokles’ Trachiniai’ (diss., Stanford University 1976), is one of the few writers to address the question directly, and his remarks on the topic (124–31) parallel my own sentiments.Google Scholar

⁷⁹ My comments on the text have been guided by the commentaries of Paley (n. 27), Campbell (n. 27), Jebb, R. C., Sophocles, The Plays and Fragments , Part V, The Trachiniae (Cambridge 1892), and Kamerbeek, J. C., The Plays of Sophocles, Part II, The Trachiniae (Leiden 1970). I regret that I was unable to obtain a copy of O. Longo's Commento linguistico alle Trachinie di Sofocle (Padua 1968) until the major portion of my remarks were completed. For the sake of brevity, bibliographic references and dicussion of points of controversy in the commentary and notes that follow are restricted to the most important examples and problems.Google Scholar

⁸⁰ In their remarks on the play both Kitto, H. D. F., Poiesis (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1966) 154–91 (cf. the author's Greek Tragedy ³ [London 1961] Chap. X, Pt. I) and Lesky, A., Greek Tragedy, trans. Frankfort, H. A. (London–New York 1965), Chap. V, stress the replication of the natural cycle in the movement of the drama as a whole. Lesky and Whitman (n. 2) Chap. VI relate this motif to the question of the limitations of human knowledge, and Whitman in particular sees Sophocles’ outlook as very bleak (104, 106, 120–21; cf. Lesky 108–9). In his ‘Sun Symbolism in the Parodos of the Trachiniae,’ Arethusa 5 (1972) 133–54, Hoey, T. F. develops in a very suggestive manner his thesis that much of the tension in the drama comes from a contrast between cyclical and absolute states of being.Google Scholar

⁸¹ The strong emphasis on time and specific periods of time that are present in this speech and others should be understood in a generic sense as one of the means the dramatist chose to convey a sense of the urgency of the present moment. There is also, however, the possibility that the specific intervals, twelve and fifteen months, may reflect Sophocles’ desire to accommodate very old, traditional material into the fabric of the drama; see Verrall, A. W., ‘The Calendar in the Trachiniae of Sophocles,’ CR 10 (1896) 85–92.Google Scholar

⁸² Easterling, P. E., ‘Sophocles, Trachiniae,’ BICS 15 (1968) 58–69, very aptly characterizes the opening in the following terms: ‘I believe that Sophocles has taken pains in the first forty lines to show the relationship between Deianeira and Heracles from the start of their marriage so that we can judge what happens in the play not just as the outcome of a particular deed done recently by Heracles, but of what he has always been like’ (60).Google Scholar

⁸³ It is the recognition and acceptance of this dimension of the play's experience that constitutes one of the most important advances in recent scholarship on the drama. Sorum (supra, n. 59) offers in her initial chapter a good survey of critical responses to the problem. My own views on the topic have been shaped most directly by the following studies: Albini, U., ‘Dubbi sulle Trachinie,’ PP 23 (1968) 262–70, Gellie, G. H., Sophocles, A Reading (Melbourne 1972), Letters, F. J. H., The Life and Work of Sophocles (London 1953), Méautis, G., Sophocle, Essai sur le héros tragique (Paris 1957), and Sheppard, J. T., The Wisdom of Sophocles (London 1947). With varying emphases, Gellie, Letters, and Sheppard stress the tension between primal and human dimensions of the drama and its impact on Deianeira in a manner that is parallel to the very useful remarks of Jones, D. M., ‘Euripides’ Alcestis,’ CR 62 (1948) 50–55, and von Fritz's, K. ‘Euripides’ Alkestis und ihre modernen Nachahmer und Kritiker,’ A&A 5 (1956) 27–70, on that drama. In his three parallel studies, ‘Mariage et sacrifice dans les Trachiniennes de Sophocle,’ AC 44 (1975) 30–50, ‘The Hydra's Nursling: Image and Action in the Trachiniae,’ AC 44 (1975) 612–67, and ‘Sophocles’ Trachiniae: Myth, Poetry and Heroic Values,’ YCS 25 (1977) 99–158, Segal, C. makes constant use of the distinction between the human and primal levels of experience from a variety of different perspectives. In a similar but much more extreme vein J. Kott, The Eating of the Gods (New York 1973) believes that Heracles and Deianeira are representative of two worlds, one mythical, the other contemporary, that never meet (128). In the introduction to their new translation, Sophocles, Women of Trachis, The Greek Tragedy in New Translations, ed. Arrowsmith, W. (New York 1978) Williams, C. K. and Dickerson, G. W. stress the importance of the themes of mutability, uncertainty and change but consider the central motif of the drama to be the ‘constant resurgence of irrational bestiality in the world, the tragic, primeval struggle of civilized humanity to stifle or exclude the savagery and violence which threaten it both from without and from within’ (6). Their emphasis on this tension in the drama parallels Kirk's assessment of Heracles and Segal's sentiments about its general importance in Greek culture (supra, n. 29). The presence of references to a primal world of experience in the Trachiniae is commonly explained in terms of the sources on which Sophocles drew. The initial chapter of Dickerson's, G. ‘The Structure and Interpretation of Sophocles’ Trachiniae’ (diss., Princeton University 1972) offers a thorough review of this material; see also Dugas, C., ‘La mort du centaure Nessos,’ REA 45 (1943) 18–26, Krappe, A. H., ‘La robe de Déjanire,’ REG 52 (1939) 565–72, and Stoessel, F., Der Tod des Herakles (Zürich 1945). As we shall see, the role of the primal is closely related to that of eros in the drama, and there has been considerable variation by the critics in the manner and extent to which they believe the two topics are distinguished.Google Scholar

⁸⁴ It is unfortunate that the text and consequently the significance of this very striking image is obscure; in addition to the commentaries of Jebb, Kamerbeek, and Longo (n. 79), see Lloyd-Jones, H., ‘Sophoclea,’ CQ n.s. 4 (1954) 91–95, 91–93. Kirkwood, G. M., The Dramatic Role of the Chorus in Sophocles,’ Phoenix 8 (1954) 1–22, offers a balanced appraisal of the Chorus as a whole and analyzes and contrasts the Chorus of this play with the Choruses of the other dramas.Google Scholar

⁸⁵ On the text of the strophe and Reiske's commonly accepted emendation of 117 see Macro, A., ‘Sophocles, Trachiniae, 112–21,’ AJP 94 (1973) 1–3.Google Scholar

⁸⁶ I concur with Lloyd-Jones, H.’ analysis of the text of the passage, ‘Notes on Sophocles’ Trachiniae,’ YCS 22 (1972) 263–70, 263–64, which sharpens the note of implied rebuke in the Chorus’ address to Deianeira.Google Scholar

⁸⁷ The importance of his image as a reflection of a major theme of the drama has long been recognized; in addition to Hoey's article (n. 80) and Jones’ very apt description (n. 76) of how the fixity of the pole ‘makes it the just figure of Sophoclean mutability’ (175), see Musurillo, H., ‘Fortune's Wheel: Trachiniae,’ The Light and the Darkness (Leiden 1967) 61–79. Because of the long history of the image and its parallels I do not share Webster's, T. B. L. belief, ‘Sophocles’ Trachiniae,’ Greek Poetry and Life, edd. Bailey, C. et al. (Oxford 1936) 164–80, that the passage demonstrates Sophocles’ acquaintance with Ionian philosophy (166).Google Scholar

⁸⁸ On the manner in which the formal structure of the parodos replicates its thematic content see Hoey (n. 80) 140–42. I do not concur with Wender's, D. translation of the ode into sexual terms, ‘The Will of the Beast: Sexual Imagery in the Trachiniae,’ Ramus 3 (1974) 1–17, 6–8.Google Scholar

⁸⁹ On the structure of the episode see Kirkwood (n. 59) 90; I do not concur with the view (cf. Reinhardt, K., Sophokles ³ [Frankfurt am Main 1947] 49–50) that the lyrics of 205–24 should be regarded as equivalent to a stasimon and consequently that 141–496 be divided into two episodes.Google Scholar

⁹⁰ As Adams (n. 78) 115, and others have observed, the forceful, generic way she speaks of the institution in light of only her own experience is striking. The intense language of the passage parallels the play's opening, where Deianeira removed herself from the general norms of human expectation, and underscores the distinct sexual overtones of her speech (cf. Wender [n. 88] 8). The thrust of the garden motif parallels the references to the inviolate meadow metaphor in Euripides’ Hippolytus (cf. Segal, G., ‘The Tragedy of the Hippolytus: The Waters of Ocean and the Untouched Meadow,’ HSCP 70 [1965] 117–69).Google Scholar

⁹¹ The intensity with which Deianeira describes toil as a basic condition of Heracles’ existence (cf. 169–70) not only prepares for her closing description of him as the ‘best of men’ but also parallels the way she characterized her own lot in the first part of the speech; in both instances Deianeira sets both her husband and herself apart from normal standards.Google Scholar

⁹² The skillful manner in which Sophocles incorporates the highly traditional view of Heracles as a triumpant warrior (cf. the Nekyia and Hesiodic Shield) is especially adroit; the effect is heightened by the way in which the Chorus’ subsequent brief song parallels the tone and spirit of an epinician ode.Google Scholar

⁹³ Critics who voice dismay at the venality of the Messenger (cf. 190–91) neglect the fact that this is a common characteristic of this class or type of character on the Attic stage; see Garton, C., ‘Characterisation in Greek Tragedy,’ JHS 77 (1957) 247–54. Lloyd-Jones, ’ proposal (n. 84) 94, that the intensity of Deianeira's anxiety is indicated by the fact that she intends the αὙτός of 192 to refer to Heracles while the Messenger understands it to refer to Heracles is very attractive on dramatic as well as linguistic grounds. The theme of hope and its relationship to the motif of mutability in the play has been studied in considerable detail by Hoppin, M. C., ‘The Theme of Mutability and Dramatic Unity in Four Plays of Sophocles’ (diss., University of Michigan 1976), who feels that Deianeira fails to display a positive hope while Heracles is characterized by over-confidence.Google Scholar

⁹⁴ The brisk iambic movement of the choral interlude has been well analyzed by Pohlsander, H. A., Metrical Studies in the Lyrics of Sophocles (Leiden 1964) 134–36, and there can be little doubt that Sophocles chose this rhythm both to reflect the Chorus’ mood and to echo the theme of ebb and flow from the parodos. This last point may help explain the motion described in 219–20, which has puzzled the commentators; Lloyd-Jones’ analysis (n. 86) 264–65, which introduces the notion of a ship being driven backward by the weather, is very attractive.Google Scholar

⁹⁵ Text and colometry are those of Pearson. The irony of the invocation of Apollo as Healer in light of Heracles’ subsequent fate is paralleled by the emphasis on the ambiguous μελλόνυμϕος (207) at the start of the interlude.Google Scholar

⁹⁶ On the interplay of this motif with the theme of marriage see Segal's ‘Mariage et sacrifice …’ (n. 83); the author believes that the former is the center of the irony for Deianeira and the latter for Heracles.Google Scholar

⁹⁷ Webster, (n. 87; cf. Stoessel [n. 83] 168–71) offered some very suggestive comments on the parallels and contrasts between the sequence of scenes that begins at this point and the Agamemnon. When the evidence is considered as a whole, I think there can be no doubt that Sophocles composed this scene with Aeschylus’ play and characters in mind.Google Scholar

⁹⁸ As noted before (supra, n. 30), the story of Heracles’ subjugation to Omphale was apparently quite old (cf. Farnell, [n. 3] 140–41) and, as Easterling observes (n. 82) 61, the notion of enslavement it suggests is developed to a remarkable degree throughout the speech. The effect of this motif is in turn heightened by the manner in which Sophocles leaves it undefined at this juncture.Google Scholar

⁹⁹ The description of Zeus as πϱάϰτωϱ (251) was not intended, nor would the audience have understood it as in any way diminishing Heracles’ personal responsibility. In certain respects Heracles’ position parallels that of Agamemnon in the Oresteia, with the very important difference that Heracles is not caught in a direct conflict between his public and private interests (see Dover's, K. J. response, ‘Some Neglected Aspects of Agamemnon's Dilemma,’ JHS 93 [1973] 58–69, to Lesky, A., ‘Decision and Responsibility in the Tragedy of Aeschylus,’ JHS 86 [1966] 78–85). Although Sophocles makes us aware of both dimensions of Heracles, the manner in which they are construed and presented in Lichas’ speech stresses their parallelism.Google Scholar

¹⁰⁰ Galinsky, (n. 26) 47 stresses the parallels to the narrative of Iphitus’ death in Od. 21 and believes ‘Sophocles has accomplished the seemingly impossible by outdoing Homer in incriminating Herakles,’ who acts ‘with the logic of a brute.’ For Kitto, cf. Poiesis (n. 80) 177, the speech illustrates Heracles’ ὓβϱις and explains why Zeus punishes him. Murray, G., ‘Heracles, “The Best of Men,”’ Greek Studies (Oxford 1946) 106–26, contrasts the portrait of Heracles in the Trachiniae with Euripides’ Heracles Furens and believes Sophocles’ hero is shown as brutalized. To Murray, Lichas’ speech is Sophocles’ way of demonstrating the savagery and brutality of the traditional heroic standards (113, 117).Google Scholar

¹⁰¹ Dickerson, (n. 83) 215–21 argues in considerable detail that deliberate deception and a ‘calculated whitewash’ of Heracles’ behavior is Lichas’ intent from start to finish; see also U. Parlavantza-Friedrich, Täuschungsszenen in den Tragödien des Sophokles, Untersuchungen zur antiken Literatur und Geschichte 2 (Berlin 1969), 26–29.Google Scholar

¹⁰² Deianeira's emphasis on slavery not only makes explicit the importance of this motif which had been latent in Lichas’ speech (supra, n. 98) but also heightens the dramatic effect of the scene. The tension of the scene is indicated by the irony of 302–6 and Deianeira's own ambivalence; see Markantonatos, G., ‘Tragic Irony in the Trachiniae of Sophocles,’ Platon 26 (1974) 73–79, 74. On the structure and form of the speech as a whole see Johansen, H. F., General Reflections in Tragic Rhesis (Copenhagen 1959) 66–67. See also Paley's (n. 27) brief but telling remarks (202) on the important role and emphasis placed upon the descriptive narrative in the drama. Deianeira's use of σϕαλ in 297 to suggest how easily human affairs are contravened by the divine is closely paralleled by Euripides in the Hippolytus; see Knox, B. M. W., ‘The Hippolytus of Euripides,’ YCS 13 (1952) 1–31, 25–26.Google Scholar

¹⁰³ An excellent discussion of the first part of the drama and the strong possibility that the confrontation between Deianeira and Iole is an innovation on Sophocles’ part is offered by Beck, A., ‘Die Empfang Ioles,’ Hermes 81 (1953) 10–21.Google Scholar

¹⁰⁴ It is at this point that the theme of Eros which had been latent before becomes quite explicit in the Messenger's very forthright statement. One of the most signal advances of contemporary scholarship has been its open acceptance of the importance of this theme both in its own right and in relation to such other important motifs as disease or the realm of the primal or monstrous. Very frequently, in fact, contemporary studies which stress the importance of the primal (supra, n. 83) do so in terms of the theme of Eros. We have moved beyond Post's, C. R. reluctant acceptance that the chief motif of the drama might be erotic (‘The Dramatic Art of Sophocles,’ HSCP 23 [1912] 71–127, 97) to such studies as those of Easterling (n. 82) and Wender (n. 88), which interpret the drama in terms of this motif. In his studies (supra, n. 83) Segal stresses the parallels between the power of Eros and the dark forces that annul human civilization, and Murray (n. 100) sees in the motif an index of Heracles’ savagery. In addition to the studies noted before, see: Biggs, P., ‘The Disease Theme in Sophocles’ Ajax, Philoctetes and Trachiniae,’ CP 61 (1966) 223–35, Mason, H. A., ‘The Women of Trachis,’ I, Arion 2.1 (1963) 59–81, II, Arion 2.2 (1963) 105–21, van Pesch, H. W., De idee van de menselijke beperktheid bij Sophocles (Wageningen 1953) 52–62, Weinstock, H., Sophokles ³ (Wuppertal 1948). Biggs and van Pesch concentrate on love as a disease in a manner that offers useful supplements to Easterling's and Wender's studies. Mason believes that the action takes place against a background of primitive lust and that Sophocles has construed the myth to show that sexual desires are an alien intrusion into the soul. This emphasis on the harsher aspects of love parallels Méautis’ view (n. 83) 266, that Heracles is corrupted by love, and Ronnet's denunciations (n. 1), 96, of the hero's brutality, ὓβϱις, and lubricity. Weinstock in his chapter on the drama sees in the pairing of Heracles and Deianeira a general contrast between fundamental masculine and feminine principles. Weinstock stesses the positive dimension of love (and especially Deianeira's) and emphasizes the manner in which the Queen inadvertently destroys her husband (cf. Kirkwood, [n. 59] 256).Google Scholar

¹⁰⁵ For reasons of sense as well as grammar, 379 should be assigned to Deianeira and not the Messenger; see Kamerbeek and Longo (n.79) ad loc.Google Scholar

¹⁰⁶ This scene offers an excellent example of the manner in which Attic drama was influenced by the courts. The cross-examination of Lichas by the Messenger proceeds very directly not only to establish the facts of the immediate situation, but also to demonstrate how they are part of a larger sequence of events; see Walcot's excellent comments on the scene (n. 76) 38–39. The question of Deianeira's reticence at this point has disturbed many critics and, since this analysis concentrates on the dramatic rhythm, I have reserved discussion of the issue until my Appendix, Deianeira's Deportment 393–435, in which I explain why I believe it is dramatically and personally appropriate that she is silent at this point.Google Scholar

¹⁰⁷ Biggs (n. 104) 227–31, Easterling (n. 82) 62–63, and Wender (n. 88) 9–10, all stress the manner in which the themes of Eros and disease are associated at this point. With varying degrees of emphasis all three critics see in this collocation of motifs the poet's censure of Heracles.Google Scholar

¹⁰⁸ Considerable energy has been expended on the question whether Deianeira is (e.g., Reinhardt, [n. 89] 54–57) or is not (e.g., Bowra [n. 78] 124) dissembling at this point. A thorough discussion of the issues is provided by Dickerson, (n. 83) Excursus 18, 523–24. See also Beck (n. 103) 19–21, Mason (n. 104) Pt. II, 113–15, and Whitman (n. 2) 111–12. I believe that Deianeira is speaking with utmost sincerity even if she does overrate her ability to be detached about the situation (cf. Jebb [n. 79], xxiv–xxv). Her behavior at this juncture becomes much more comprehensible if we bear in mind that she is Heracles’ queen as well as wife, and is trying to act accordingly (supra, n. 106 and infra, Appendix). In attempting to carry out her regal role Deianeira demonstrates many of the same traditional aristocratic attitudes and patterns of behavior as Phaedra in the Hippolytus (see Knox [n. 102] 17–18). Deianeira's aristocratic bent is demonstrated by her respect for ξενία (cf. 492–96), her sense of αἰδς, the very Homeric conviction that words must be the same as deeds, and her belief that birth and status are important determinants of her behavior. To a marked degree Deianeira displays that sense of αἰδς Wilamowitz, (n. 33) considered to be a major characteristic of the temper of the Homeric heroes and alien to Heracles’ own behavior. Not infrequently commentators have drawn analogies between Deianeira and Homeric heroines; both Méautis (n. 83) 255, 257, and Bernard-Moulin, R., L'Elément homérique chez les personnages de Sophocle (Aix-en-Provence 1966) 114–16, develop in a very suggestive manner the analogies and contrasts between her position and Helen's. I believe that it is the failure to recognize the Homeric qualities of Deianeira's behavior that has prompted considerable misapprehensions about her motives in this and the following scene. Discussion of these issues has frequently involved the question of Deianeira's σωϕϱοσύνη and responses have been quite varied, ranging from Adam's conviction (n. 79) 109, that Deianeira is an embodiment of it, and Reinhardt's telling remarks (n. 89) 57–58, on how she falls because of her desire to practice σωϕϱοσύνη, to H. North's description, Sophrosyne (Ithaca 1966) 61–62, of how the contrast between Heracles and Deianeira extends to their concepts of σωϕϱοσύνη.Google Scholar

¹⁰⁹ The collocation of themes and contrast between the normally triumphant Heracles and his current subjugation to Eros at the close of Lichas’ speech (488–89) offers an elegant appraisal of Heracles’ situation. It is balanced by Deianeira's, assessment of her own lot at the start of her speech (490–92) to provide a convenient epitome of the action up to this point.Google Scholar

¹¹⁰ On the metrical affinities of the first stasimon with the parodos see Kamerbeek, (n. 79) 117, and Pohlsander, (n. 94) 136–38. As Gellie, (n. 83) observes, the stasimon ‘is a superb example of the way in which an ode can distill the essence of the scene just completed, and at the same time prepare our reponses for the scene to come’ (63). The manner in which Sophocles recasts the present situation in light of the motif with which the play opened, Deianeira's marriage, is an especially adroit turn which reinforces the sense of unit construction in the drama so far.Google Scholar

¹¹¹ Not surprisingly the violence and intensity of the scene has prompted many critics to see in it a harsh criticism of Heracles by the poet. For example, Murray, (n. 100) in the context of his remarks on the ode described Deianeira as ‘the gentle and bewildered prize, fought for by monstrous creatures mad with lust’ (115, cf. 116–17), and critics who have seen the power of Eros in negative terms have frequently cited the passage as confirmation of their views. But, while there can be no doubt that the poet wants us to be aware of the primal qualities of Eros and the combatants, and to reconstrue Deianeira's initial account of her wooing in these terms, the idea of a heroic combat or contest is equally strong; note the manner with which the strophe ends with the prhase ἄεθλ’ ἀγνων (506), the antistrophe with a vignette of Aphrodite as a judge (516), and the epode concludes with the image of Deianeira as a prize heifer (527–30).Google Scholar

¹¹² As the commentaries of Jebb, , Kamerbeek, , and Longo, (n. 79) reveal, the text of 526 has occasioned considerable discussion; I concur with Kamerbeek's defense of the received text.Google Scholar

¹¹³ Kamerbeek's, introductory remarks on the episode (n. 79) 125, offer a convenient precis on the manner in which it is linked to what precedes and follows.Google Scholar

¹¹⁴ The bitter irony of 536–37, with its tension between ϱόϱην and ἐζ ευγμένην at the start and close of 536, and secretive connotations of παϱεισδέδεγμαι at the start of the next line, is intensified by reference to Iole as ‘extra baggage’ (ϕόϱτον ὣστε ναυτίλος, 537). The same metaphor is found in Clytemnaestra's parallel denunciation of Cassandra in the Agamemnon (1438–44), and possibly Sophocles intended to echo this very striking passage with its very explicit sexual overtones; see Longo's comments (n. 79) on 537–38, Fraenkel's, remarks on the passage in the Agamemnon and my ‘Agamemnon 1446–47,’ CP 67 (1972) 191–92.Google Scholar

¹¹⁵ The irony of 540–42 is intensified by the manner in which the description of Heracles echoes the close of Deianeira's anxious speech (176–77) before the Messenger arrived, and the use of οἰϰούϱια (cf. Jebb, and Kamerbeek, [n. 79] ad 542) suggests the motif of ξενία and how Deianeira sees Heracles’ conduct as a fundamental breach of this series of conventions. See also Easterling's sharp appraisal (n. 82) 62–63, of Deianeira's conduct at this point.Google Scholar

¹¹⁶ I concur with the basic points of Kirk's assessment of centaurs as creatures whose ambivalence of form and behavior reflects the tension between nature and culture in Greek culture (cf. his Myth [n. 29] 152–62). While centaurs are among the oldest inhabitants of Greek mythology and there are some conspicuous parallels in Indian mythology, there is no need to trace them back to earlier Indo-European or Aryan figures (cf. Dumézil, C., Le Problème des centaures [Paris 1929]). There is virtually complete agreement that centaurs were originally nature or fertility spirits (cf. Nilsson, G.gr.R ³ [n. 3] 229–32) whose ambivalence of conduct was already well established by Homer, . In this respect they are paralleled by Heracles, and I share Kirk's view (162) that Heracles was an ideal heroic counterpart. In the Trachiniae, even though Sophocles apparently did not follow the most negative traditions (cf. Dugas [n. 83], Dickerson, [n. 83] 6–86), the centaur Nessus is consistently regarded in a hostile vein with a strong emphasis on his bestiality and secretiveness (cf. 555–56). Sorum, (n. 59) 18–20, and Segal, , ‘Mariage et sacrifice …’ (n. 83) 45, both stress Nessus as the center of the figures that threaten to annul civilized life, and Segal's emphasis on the sexual qualities of the philtre has been paralleled by those writers who stress the role of Eros in the drama. Although clouded by her strong belief that Heracles is a vegetation deity of Oriental origin, and that in the Trachiniae ‘… Sophocles has bequeathed us the life history of Herakles as Greek spirit of vegetation and seasonal birth and decay’ (43), Levy (n. 27) has raised the interesting possibility that originally the stories of Heracles’ combats with Acheloüs and Nessus were doublets of one account of a combat with a water demon. But, while Sophocles does a great deal to develop the parallels between the two events in the Trachiniae, I believe that he was prompted much more by the immediate realities and dramaturgical possibilities of the situation he was constructing than by any recognition of archetypal similarities.Google Scholar

¹¹⁷ The text of 572–74 has been much debated, and I concur with Long's, A. A. view, ‘Poisonous “Growth” in the Trachiniae,’ GRBS 8 (1967) 275–78 that the phrase θϱέμμα Λεϱεϱναίας ὓδϱας refers to the Hydra's poison and not the Hydra itself. Segal, ‘The Hydra's Nursling’ (n. 83), develops the implications of this passage in a most suggestive manner.Google Scholar

¹¹⁸ The content and tone of the speech have occasioned considerable criticism of Deianeira. For example, Bowra (n. 78) 127–29, chides the Queen for both resenting the introduction of a concubine and her use of magic (cf. Post [n. 104] 102–3 and Ehrenberg's sharp censure of the Queen's conventional, if not bourgeois, behavior [n. 77] 149–51). On the first charge see the very proper objections of Whitman (n. 2) 114–15, Kamerbeek, (n. 79) ad 582, and Gellie, (n. 83) 64–66. Whitman, and Gellie, also address the question of Deianeira's use of magic in a convincing manner and point out that her fault, if such it should be termed, is not that she uses magic but rather that she believes she can handle these primal forces on their own terms (see Markantonatos [n. 102] 76, on the irony of 580–83). Other critics have questioned Deianeira's resolve even at this juncture; for example, McCall, M., ‘The Trachiniae: Structure, Focus, and Heracles,’ AJP 93 (1972) 142–63, 150–51, detects a strong note of vacillation in the manner in which she sends the robe, and believes that the final lines of her speech epitomize the basic hesitancy of her character. Although his remarks should be tempered (see Kamerbeek, [n. 79] ad 586, 587, on the use of tenses), McCall is quite correct in his belief that Deianeira lacks the sense of raw authority and obduracy that characterizes Sophoclean heroes (155). This does not mean, however, that she lacks a sense of her own personal authority—for this last quality is very much in evidence in the subsequent scene with Lichas.Google Scholar

¹¹⁹ Deianeira's, final lines before the entrance of Lichas (596–97) reveal her very strong and Homeric sense of propriety; n. 108 and Kamerbeek, (n. 79) ad 596, 597.Google Scholar

¹²⁰ For example, in her review of Parlavantza-Friedrich (n. 101), Easterling, P. E., CR 22 (1972) 19–21, finds it odd that Deianeira's deception of Lichas is not discussed.Google Scholar

¹²¹ Although the text of 602 is problematic (cf. Kamerbeek, [n. 79] ad loc.), the emphasis on Deianeira's weaving intensifies the irony of the scene as a whole; from Homer on the activity was regarded as emblematic of both one of the most important feminine roles within the household and feminine guile. On the manner in which Sophocles uses the motif of the robe to link Heracles and Deianeira see Segal's comments, ‘Mariage et sacrifice …’ (n. 83) 36–39.Google Scholar

¹²² The intense focus on Heracles and Deianeira, and the manner in which the phrasing poignantly suggests both their distance and proximity in a manner that is reminiscent of both the parodos and first stasimon, intensifies the sense of scale and imminence created in the first strophe.Google Scholar

¹²³ Although the text of the close (660–62) is seriously flawed (cf. Jebb, , Kamerbeek, , and Longo [n. 79] ad loc.), some form of reference to Heracles’ desire being kindled by the robe does appear to be present. The sentiment is a clear echo of Deianeira's concerns at the close of the preceding episode and, together with the description with which the second strophe closes, anticipates Heracles’ fate.Google Scholar

¹²⁴ See Dickerson's, excellent comments on the structure of the episode (n. 83) 353–57, and how it is ‘marked by a division into two segments of roughly equal extent and strikingly symmetrical pattern’ (353). As we shall see, the strong emphasis on symmetry in this scene in which Deianeira's misfortune becomes clear is in strong contrast to the linear presentation of the figure of Heracles.Google Scholar

¹²⁵ Throughout the first part of the episode there is a strong emphasis on knowledge and action words, which underscores the discrepancy between her intent and the results, and demonstrates the reversal of her hopes.Google Scholar

¹²⁶ The emphasis on the manner in which the tuft is consumed from within not only anticipates the descriptions of the philtre's effect on Heracles but also mirrors the theme of how the disease of love within him brings about his destruction.Google Scholar

¹²⁷ Holt (n. 78) 83–98, offers a number of sensitive observations on the light imagery of the drama and its use in the depiction of Deianeira; his remarks on the manner in which it is employed in the third episode to point to the certainty of Heracles’ doom are especially adroit.Google Scholar

¹²⁸ There can be no doubt about the intensity of her resolve at this point, and critics have, with due propriety, pointed out the analogies with Ajax, Electra, and Oedipus. The lines with which the speech closes show how closely her sense of αἰδς is linked with her convictions about her personal responsibility. This last point is very important, since as Dawe, R. D., ‘Some Reflections on Ate and Hamartia,’ HSCP 72 (1967) 89–123, observed, ‘of all the Greek tragedies which survive, Women of Trachis is the only one where “error of judgment” appears an adequate diagnosis of the event or events which set in motion the great chains of catastrophe familiar to us from our reading of the tragic writers’ (90). Dawe, however, also believes that Deianeira ‘must be predestined, for she is fulfilling an oracle’ (114).Google Scholar

¹²⁹ I do not share the belief reflected in the work of Segal, ‘Mariage et sacrifice …’ (n. 83) 37–41, and others that the sacrifice on Cape Cenaeum was somehow impure or sacrilegious because of the character of the events and Heracles’ behavior which it celebrated.Google Scholar

¹³⁰ Kamerbeek's, remarks on the vivid language of the passage are very helpful (n. 79) ad loc; see also Reinhardt's comparison and contrast of Heracles’ and Philoctetes’ sufferings (n. 89) 186–89. The image of the robe clinging to Heracles ‘like a χιτὼν made by a sculptor’ (Kamerbeek) is not only highly graphic but also offers a natural continuation of Deianeira's statement that she heeded the centaur's words as if graven on bronze (683) in the first half of the episode.Google Scholar

¹³¹ Although the description of Lichas’ death has frequently been cited to demonstrate Heracles’ continued misconduct, if not complete bestialization, I believe that the poet depicted the irony of Lichas’ end in such a graphic fashion to point out both the intensity of Heracles’ pain and how heroic standards and actions differ from normal ones. In this respect the account of Lichas’ death offers a graphic demonstration of the tension that had been latent throughout Lichas’ own narrative of Heracles’ exploits.Google Scholar

¹³² The fears reflected in her sentiments of 596–97 (supra, n. 106; cf. 108) have become true, and, like Phaedra in the Hippolytus, her αἰδς has become αἰσχύνη; see Solmsen, F., ‘Bad Shame and Related Problems in Phaedra's Speech (Eur. Hipp. 380–388),’ Hermes 101 (1973) 420–25.Google Scholar

¹³³ Kirkwood, (n. 59) 182; see also Letters’ excellent comments, (n. 83) 184–85, on the manner in which the ode recasts Hyllus’ ‘physiological’ account of Heracles’ sufferings into terms that evoke a sense of the malignant and monstrous.Google Scholar

¹³⁴ Although the text of 828–30 is troubled, the emphasis on three motifs that will be prominent for the remainder of the drama, Heracles’ toil, servitude, and relationship with Zeus, is clear. Verbal links with earlier sections of the drama are also maintained; see Kamerbeek (n. 79) ad 824–25, on the manner in which these lines possibly continue the figure of 31–33.Google Scholar

¹³⁵ The importance of Aphrodite's role is brought out by the way in which the description of her as πϱάϰτωϱ echoes Lichas’ description of Zeus’ part in these events (251).Google Scholar

¹³⁶ I concur with Kamerbeek's, sentiment (n. 79) 189, that 863–70 should be considered as part of the fourth episode and not, as Jebb believed, an epode to the third stasimon.Google Scholar

¹³⁷ The description of Iole as a new bride echoes Deianeira's sentiments in 536–51 as well as the Messenger's and Lichas’ earlier revelations and the pregnant use of μελλόνυμϕος in 206 (supra, n. 95).Google Scholar

¹³⁸ The account of Deianeira's death has frequently been compared to the servant's narrative in Euripides’ Alcestis (152–98) and, as Kamerbeek, (n. 79) observes, ‘usually the priority of the Alcestis has been inferred from the comparison’ (193–94). Discussions of temporal priority have often entailed evaluations of the relative merits of the two scenes, and Euripides is frequently given the nod; see Reinhardt (n. 89) 255–56 and Earle, M. L., ‘Studies in Sophocles’ Trachiniae,’ TAPA 33 (1902) 5–29. Such studies neglect the significant differences between the two scenes which are neatly delineated in Bowra's remarks (n. 78) 130, and the strong likelihood that Sophocles’ drama antedates Euripides’ (supra, n. 59).Google Scholar

¹³⁹ The expression τὰς ἄπαιδας … οὐσίας in 911 has provoked considerable discussion (cf. Jebb, , Kamerbeek, , and Longo [n. 79] ad loc.). I do not share Jebb's belief that the phrase is ‘undoubtedly corrupt’ or Kamerbeek's contention (see also Campbell, Paley [n. 27] ad loc.) that Deianeira now feels childless as well. Some sense of property is suggested by οὐσίας even in the plural, and I believe Sophocles employs this striking phrase with its very Homeric collocation of family and property to point to the Queen's very traditional, aristocratic demeanor (supra, n. 108) even as she prepares to commit suicide.Google Scholar

¹⁴⁰ Hoey, T. F., ‘The Trachiniae and Unity of Hero,’ Arethusa 3 (1970) 1–22, argues in a very suggestive manner from the Chorus’ hesitation at this point that Sophocles did not intend us to regard either Heracles or Deianeira as the hero. For Hoey, ‘The Trachiniae might be read as the tragedy of a house whose two essential components never meet’ (18). For Hoey the drama is one about disunity, a union that was never achieved, even though Heracles and Deianeira were in need of each other (see also the précis of his dissertation, ‘Presentational Imagery in the Trachiniae of Sophocles,’ HSCP 68 [1964] 417–19). In developing this thesis, Hoey stresses the importance of Hyllus’ role and the symmetrical arrangement of scenes about his ode (cf. 15–16), and while Hoey's pattern may be slightly forced, his emphasis on Hyllus’ role and importance is not.Google Scholar

¹⁴¹ Erturdt's μένομεν provides the necessary sense and solves the metrical problem; the MSS’ μέλλομεν probably crept in from the connotations of ἐλπίσιν and the μέλλειν of the next line.Google Scholar

¹⁴² Although critics have frequently spoken at great length about such topics as how this tableau epitomizes the theme of the great man laid low, the appropriateness or not of Heracles’ situation, analogies with the Philoctetes (supra, n. 130), and the question of the relation of this scene with its parallel in Euripides’ Hercules Furens (cf. Reinhardt [n. 89] 258–60), consideration of these and other appropriate issues should not distract us from recognizing how effective and pregnant the vignette is in its own right. One of the most adroit touches is the manner in which the escort in foreign garb (cf. 964) suggests Heracles’ ‘alien’ nature.Google Scholar

¹⁴³ The irony of his lot is epitomized in the juxtaposition of οἵαν … χάϱιν with the MSS’ ἠνύσω or Brunck's, and Wakefield's, frequently accepted emendation ἢνυσας.Google Scholar

¹⁴⁴ Although the basic pattern and sense are secure, the text and colometry of 1004–43 have been the subject of extensive discussion, and there can be little doubt that the MSS contain lacunae as well as transpositions; in addition to the various commentaries (supra, nn. 27, 79), see also Lloyd-Jones, (n. 86) 267–70, and Pohlsander, (n. 94) 145–46.Google Scholar

¹⁴⁵ The force of these lines is intensified by the emphatic phrasing throughout and the poet's use of dactylic hexameters, which convey a gnomic quality. The irony of Heracles’ situation is epitomized by the manner in which the initial phrases and reference to his illness are balanced by the descriptions of his accomplishments and use of ϰαθαίϱων (1012; cf. 1060–61) to characterize his acts.Google Scholar

¹⁴⁶ The first figure not only implies an obvious notion of entrapment but also reflects the traditional metaphor of weaving as a figure for feminine guile as well as virtue (supra, n. 121). The second figure continues in a most graphic fashion that of 768–69 which in turn echoes 683 (supra, n. 130).Google Scholar

¹⁴⁷ The contrast between his present bondage (cf. 1055) and the former range and scope of his heroic activities is heightened by the very direct description of his having been brought low by a woman. This figure serves as a capstone to the various enslavement and entrapment figures in the play (supra, n. 98). The manner of Deianeira's suicide, with a sword, adds an additional note of irony to Heracles’ angry denunciation that she conquered him ϕασγάνον δίχα (1063).Google Scholar

¹⁴⁸ The intensity of these lines is such that it is no wonder that many critics have seen in them Sophocles’ own criticism of Heracles and the heroic ideals he represents; see, for example, Murray, (n. 100) 120–21, or with even greater vehemence Kamerbeek's (n. 79) general comment on 1066–69: ‘Perhaps the most savage passage in Greek Tragedy. If Sophocles wanted to demonstrate how bodily torment causes heroes, no less than ordinary men, to forget the most elementary decency, he could not have done better. But the picture is in keeping with the Heracles of 271–73, the devastator of Oechalia, the murderer of Lichas. Every word of these lines is of a maniacal, perverse cruelty.’Google Scholar

¹⁴⁹ The stress on the monstrous elements in these accounts was obviously intended to echo the parallel descriptions of the assaults of the disease and Heracles’ physical and mental torment. See also Brommer's, comments on this passage and its parallel in Euripides’ Hercules Furens 348–435, Herakles (n. 26) 59–60.Google Scholar

¹⁵⁰ The description of Zeus as ‘lord of the starry sky’ (1106) not only forms an effective contrast with that of Heracles’ unseen assailant but also recalls the star imagery of the parodos and the cyclic sense it created (supra, n. 87).Google Scholar

¹⁵¹ I cannot share the opinion that has sometimes been voiced that the absence of Heracles’ family at this juncture is part of his ‘punishment’ or the like; the lines draw attention to the hero's isolation from yet another perspective and at most serve as an ironic comment on his own extended absences. A far more important characteristic of the sequence is the way in which, with the emphasis on prophecies and their fulfillment, the basic parameters of the drama's action change from human to more than human concerns; see Adams (n. 78) 130. Other commentators have seen in the sequence a transition to a coda to the drama proper so that everything will come out in accordance with the usual mythical tradition; see, e.g., Linforth's, I. M. rather extreme view that the final scene is an afterpiece that does mark a notable change in direction and emphasis in the drama, ‘The Pyre on Mount Oeta in Sophocles’ Trachiniae,’ University of California Publications in Classical Philology 14.7 (1952) 255–78. Discussions of these points have naturally entailed the complex question whether or not Sophocles refers to the apotheosis of Heracles in the Trachiniae. A very convenient survey of the issues involved and positions taken is provided in the opening pages of Hoey's, T. F. ‘Ambiguity in the Exodos of Sophocles’ Trachiniae,’ Arethusa 10 (1977) 269–94. The same author comments quite tellingly on Linforth's thesis in his ‘Causality and the Trachiniae,’ CJ 68 (1973) 306–9, and his remarks on how causality and responsibility are shared in the drama parallel Kirkwood's, G. M. remarks on the forms of contrast in the play in his ‘The Dramatic Unity of Sophocles’ Trachiniae,’ TAPA 72 (1941) 203–11.Google Scholar

¹⁵² Reinhardt, (n. 89) 70–71, offers an interesting analogy between Heracles’ realization at this point and Cambyses’ in Herodotus 3.64. The differences between human and divine knowledge and the manner in which tragic events occur because of the discrepancy between them is one of the most frequently discussed topics in Sophoclean scholarship. An excellent introduction to the subject is provided by Diller, H., Göttliches und menschliches Wissen bei Sophokles (Kiel 1950). The theme of knowledge in Sophocles is closely linked with that of time; on the latter, in addition to the excellent remarks of Knox in the initial chapters of The Heroic Temper (n. 1), see de Romilly, J., Time in Greek Tragedy (Ithaca 1968), Chaps. 1, 4.Google Scholar

¹⁵³ Commentators on the play and historians of religion have noted with some frequency how this request provides an aetiology for cult practice of considerable antiquity in Heracles’ honor; see Nilsson, M. P., ‘Der Flammentod des Herakles auf dem Oite,’ Archiv für Religionswissenschaft 21 (1922) 310–16; see also 22 [1923] 200); and ‘Fire-Festivals in Ancient Greece,’ JHS 43 (1923) 144–48. But, while the cult practice was obviously old, I do not share Levy's conviction (n. 27) 47–48, that the practice supports her contention that Heracles has a Near-Eastern origin.Google Scholar

¹⁵⁴ I do not share the belief reflected in the work of Wender (n. 88) 14–15, and others (cf. Biggs [n. 104] 230) that this association is intended to demonstrate the purely negative nature of love. Rather, as Winnington-Ingram, R. P. observed about the Hippolytus, ‘Hippolytus: A Study in Causation,’ Euripide, Entretiens sur l'antiquité classique VI (Vandceuvres–Geneva 1960) 168–91: ‘My point is simply this, Euripides is not demonstrating that passion in abstracto is too strong for intelligence in abstracto, but showing how, given certain circumstances and antecedents, it is too strong’ (177).Google Scholar

¹⁵⁵ As noted before, there has been considerable debate whether or not Sophocles refers to the apotheosis of Heracles in this play, and Hoey (n. 151) provides a very convenient review of the major positions taken as well as advancing additional arguments in favor of the view that the dramatist was deliberately ambiguous on the point (cf. Kirkwood, [n. 59] 277–78). One point that needs to be considered more in deciding upon this issue is the general familiarity of the audience with this motif. The evidence collected by Brommer (Denkmälerlisten, Vasenlisten [n. 26]), the fragments of archaic pedimental sculpture from the Acropolis, and the iconography of such structures as the Treasury of the Athenians and Hephaesteion make it clear that the Athenians were very familiar with this motif, and, when one considers the abundant references to Heracles’ end, Mt. Oeta, and finally the pyre itself, it is hard to think how thoughts of the hero's prospective apotheosis would not have been conjured up even if the dramatist does suppress its positive aspects in favor of the grim costs involved.Google Scholar

¹⁵⁶ I do not concur with J. K. K's thesis (‘Heracles’ Intention in His Second Request of Hyllus: Trach. 1216–51,’ CQ 21 [1971] 33–41) that Iole is to become Hyllus’ concubine and not his wife.Google Scholar

¹⁵⁷ Although the text is troubled, the force and direction of the lines is not; in a very traditional, Homeric manner that is reminiscent of Achilles’ and Agamemnon's attitude about Briseis, Heracles simply regards Iole as a piece of property whose disposition is a matter of concern.Google Scholar

¹⁵⁸ The extravagance of the sentiment is reflected in the grammar with the use of the generic plural to refer to Iole and the pleonasm of συνναίειν ὁμο which, as Kamerbeek (n. 79) ad 1237, observes, refers back to 1225 and possibly 545. The Homeric cast of Hyllus’ response echoes that of Heracles’ request (supra, n. 157).Google Scholar

¹⁵⁹ With increasing frequency in recent years critics (e.g., Segal, [n. 83], Sorum, [n. 59], Williams, and Dickerson, [n. 83]) have seen a change in Heracles in the exodos, which they have described in a variety of ways ranging from a renunciation of his former violence and bestiality to an increased understanding of divine purpose which leads to union with his father Zeus. Although, for the most part, these studies are marked by a willingness to accept Heracles on his own terms, there is, in my opinion, very little in the text that points to such a fundamental change in Heracles’ temper at this point. We see, instead, an intensification of those elements he had demonstrated before; see Webster (n. 87) 178–79.Google Scholar

¹⁶⁰ I share Hoey's belief (n. 151) 271–72, cf. 269, that the line does not imply a denial of Heracles’ apotheosis; it may, in fact, point to it in a much less ambiguous fashion than Hoey supposes.Google Scholar

¹⁶¹ The ambiguity of their relationship is reflected in ironic use of the father and son motif which runs throughout the drama (see Easterling's excellent remarks [n. 82] 67–68), and which is epitomized at the close when Hyllus’ complaints about his father's severity echo Heracles’ laments about Zeus.Google Scholar

¹⁶² Although I do not concur with Segal's opinion, ‘Sophocles’ Trachiniae’ (n. 83) 136–38, that these lines epitomize Heracles’ new temper (supra, n. 159), his comments on this passage are valuable for the manner in which they delineate the intensity of Heracles’ resolve. See also Segal's very suggestive remarks on the manner in which the pyre on Mt. Oeta can be considered a reversal of the sacrifice on Cape Cenaeum (141–46; cf. his ‘Mariage et sacrifice … [n. 83] 47–57).Google Scholar

¹⁶³ The contrast between συγγνωμοσύνη and ἀγνωμοσύνη in the opening lines is especially effective in this regard, and both Kamerbeek, and Longo, (n. 79) ad loc., comment sensitively on the terms and the significance of their collocation. Gellie, (n. 83) 76, comments very effectively on the fundamental irony of the speech.Google Scholar

¹⁶⁴ Far more important than the long-debated question whether Hyllus or the Chorus speaks the final lines is the emphasis on the ultimate responsibility of Zeus. Although enunciated early in the drama in such descriptions as that of him as πϱάϰτωϱ (251; supra, n. 99), Zeus’ role is subordinated to such motifs as Eros, disease, and the primal until the exodos, where he becomes ubiquitous.Google Scholar

¹⁶⁵ Gellie, G. H., ‘Character in Greek Tragedy,’ AUMLA 20 (1963) 241–55, 244; see also Dale (n. 76) 12–13.Google Scholar

¹⁶⁶ Although detailed discussion of the structure of the drama is beyond the scope of this essay, the following basic pattern does appear to be clear. The prologue and the parodos set forth in personal and then somewhat more abstract terms the basic situation from which the action of the drama as a whole proceeds. The sense of cyclic flow that is so strong in these opening scenes is then mirrored in the loosely knit ring composition of the first through fourth episodes in which, although there is a greater emphasis on the first and third episodes, the first episode is mirrored by the fourth and there is a close responsion between the second and the third. In a similar manner the third stasimon which describes Heracles and Deianeira as victims of love corresponds to the descriptions of the power of Eros and the contest for Deianeira's hand in the first stasimon. These two songs bracket the second stasimon, which with its note of happy expectation epitomizes the futility of human hopes—which, in turn, is not only an important theme in the drama but also mirrored in the oscillation between joy and despair that can be observed through the play as a whole (Hoppin [n. 93] 82, is one of the few critics to recognize the importance of this emotional pattern in the drama). The basic ring structure is not executed in rigid manner but combined with the progressive shifts of focus in a very effective manner; consider, for example, not only the manner in which the fourth episode closes the ring and the human drama with the account of Deianeira's suicide, but also how the emphasis on the human dimensions of the catastrophe is set in even greater relief because of the earlier stress on the monstrous nature of the philtre and Heracles’ agony. This circular movement is combined with the linear movement or development of the figure of Heracles commented on in the text. Although the opening of the fourth stasimon reflects in a very direct fashion the tension between the human and heroic dimensions (supra, n. 140), its major thrust is to shift the focus of the drama from Deianeira to Heracles, and, while there are correspondences between the fourth stasimon and exodos and prologue and parodos, the internal logic of these two sets of scenes is quite different. The initial scenes are constructed in such a way as to reinforce the motif of cyclicity that is so prominent within them, while the fourth stasimon and exodos are developed in a progressive manner that reinforces the sense of Heracles’ alien nature. The common description of the Trachiniae as a diptych (cf. Kirkwood, [n. 59] 42–54) is quite appropriate so long as we remember that use of the term does not preclude the extensive interconnections the dramatist develops between the two principal focuses in the drama, or believe that ‘diptych’ is in some way a value term that reflects upon the dramatist's skill in constructing and manipulating complex plots. In this vein, for example, Waldock, A. J. A., Sophocles the Dramatist (Cambridge 1951) argued at some length that the frequent use of diptychs in both Sophocles and Euripides stemmed from the absence of subplots to develop the action (50–61; see Kirkwood's excellent rejoinder, 44–45).Google Scholar

¹⁶⁷ We are directed to this rhythm by the gnomes with which the prologue opens (1–3) and the fourth episode closes (944–46). These lines offer the frames for the account of Deianeira, and the personal perspective they express is developed in the abstract in the image of Great Bear in the parodos (129–30).Google Scholar

¹⁶⁸ This technique or emphasis amounts to a variation of the one that the dramatist had employed to such good effect in the Ajax; see Knox, B. M. W., ‘The Ajax of Sophocles,’ HSCP 65 (1961) 1–37 and Musurillo, (n. 87) 52. Because Heracles does not enter until the final scene, the effect it produces in the Trachiniae is much more intense.Google Scholar

¹⁶⁹ This, pace Bowra, et al., would include her dabbling in magic as well, for the evidence Bowra (n. 78) 129–30, adduces to show the Athenians’ discomfiture with magic practices indicates their popularity as well. Although critics in recent years have criticized Deianeira's vacillation and gullibility (cf., e.g., Easterling [n. 82] 63, Ehrenberg [n. 77] 151, Gellie [n. 83] 61, Kirkwood, [n. 59] 113–14, and McCall, [n. 117] 143–44, 155), the fact remains that her motives and demeanor do warrant the high marks the critics have accorded her (cf., e.g., Adams [n. 78] 109, 119, Campbell [n. 27] 237, Musurillo, [n. 87] 77, and Ronnet, [n. 1] 99–105). Her actions and responses do provide an ethical center for the drama on the human plane, and it is hardly surprising that critics such as Whitman (n. 2) 112, have seen the tragedy as hers alone. One element the original audience would have been much more aware of than their modern counterparts or critics is the manner in which Sophocles dissociated Deianeira from the traditions that stressed her Amazonian characteristics or that maintained she acted with malice toward Heracles in sending the robe. Instead, the dramatist develops a portrait of her which, with its stress on her aristocratic and Homeric qualities, is in marked contrast to that of Heracles’ behavior in the drama and reflects the traditional distinction between Heracles and the Homeric aristocracy (supra, nn. 33, 108).Google Scholar

¹⁷⁰ Although critics have with some frequency noted the parallels between Deianeira and Penelope and Helen in the epics, the ironic analogies of her position with such figures as Briseis have not been properly recognized (supra, nn. 108, 157). Despite her apparent freedom Deianeira's lot is very similar to that of Iole and parallels Tecmessa's in the Ajax. Google Scholar

¹⁷¹ This emphasis is brought out by the way in which the fourth episode returns to and concentrates upon the personal dimensions of Deianeira's fate as well as the dramatist's use of ring composition, stress upon the cyclic nature of human affairs, and the manner in which the initial episodes all begin with Deianeira pondering the ambivalence of her lot.Google Scholar

¹⁷² Pansanias, 6.9.6–8; see also Farnell, (n. 3) 365–66. The fact that this was apparently the last cult sanctioned by Delphi indicates the increasing discomfiture with the extremes exemplified by some of these figures.Google Scholar

¹⁷³ “While, as Kirk, The Nature of Greek Myths (n. 29) Chap. 12, and others have argued, it is probably improper to speak of such a process as ‘mythic thought,’ the fact remains that throughout the fifth century these narratives provided the medium through which many of the new ideas were expressed. The dramas of Sophocles, as well as those of Euripides, offer abundant evidence of this pattern of thought; see Solmsen, F., Intellectual Experiments of the Greek Enlightenment (Princeton 1975), Chapter V. The importance of myth within the context of the Greek enlightenment is demonstrated by the fact that the first work to consider what we might term ‘subjective psychology’ on a theoretical level, Gorgias’ Helen, took as its subject a heroine from the realm of myth; see Segal, C. P., ‘Gorgias and the Psychology of the Logos,’ HSCP 66 (1962) 99–155.Google Scholar

¹⁷⁴ It is significant that, although Sophocles does juxtapose two principals of quite different temper and combine two different structural techniques in the drama, he does so in a manner that is intended to increase our sense of unit construction and not to create one of violent dislocation as is the case in Euripides’ Medea, with which this drama has been frequently compared. On the latter see Buttrey, T. V., ‘Accident and Design in Euripides’ Medea,’ AJP 79 (1958) 1–17, which has been supplemented in a significant manner by Dunkle, J. R., ‘The Aegeus Episode and the Theme of Euripides’ Medea,’ TAPA 100 (1969) 97–107.Google Scholar

¹⁷⁵ There is little need at this juncture to rehearse in any great detail the varied ways in which this has been done, but the intensity with which these sentiments have been voiced, not only by those critics who have criticized Heracles from start to finish but even by such critics as Segal, ‘Mariage et sacrifice …,’ Trachiniae … (n. 83), or Williams, and Dickerson, (n. 83) who see Heracles as somehow redeemed at the close, is conspicuous. The most limited approach to Heracles occurs when the hero is considered on purely human terms. Ronnet's study (n. 1) 94–99, offers one of the most forthright examples of this attitude and demonstrates in complete detail the form of negative criticism that results when Heracles and his acts are considered from a purely human standpoint (see also Murray's frequently cited description of the dramatic action as a police case [n. 100] 126).Google Scholar

¹⁷⁶ Kells, J. H., ‘Problems of Interpretation,’ BICS 10 (1963) 47–65, 50. See also T's, J. T. remarks, The Wisdom of Sophocles (London 1947) 29–34, on how the dramatist accepted the negative dimensions of Heracles as well as the positive ones in composing his portrait of the hero.Google Scholar

¹⁷⁷ As Diller, (n. 152) observes, ‘die Gottheit redet in der Sprache ihres Wissens, der Mensch versteht nach der Fähigkeit seiner Aufnahmeorgane und versteht notwendig falsch, aber nicht, weil die Gottheit ihm irreführen will, sondern aus der strukturellen Verschiedenheit göttlicher und menschlicher Einsicht heraus’ (30–31).Google Scholar

¹⁷⁸ Although in recent years the work of Spira, A., Untersuchungen zum Deus ex mochina bei Sophokles und Euripides (Kallmμnz 1960), Longo, A., ‘Dens ex machina e religione in Euripide,’ Lanx satura N. Terzaghi oblata, Università di Genova Instituto di Filologia classica e medioevale (1963) 237–48, Hourmouziades, N. C., Production and Imagination in Euripides (Athens 1965) Appendix II, and others has done much to dispel the blanket criticism of the deus ex machina as a dramatic device that prevailed until comparatively recently, the scene has been held over the play in club-like fashion, and critics have tended to shape their view on the main body of the play in accordance with their conception of the role and purpose of the final epiphany. von Wilamowitz-Möllendorf, T., Die dramatische Technik des Sophokles (Berlin 1917) 312, Linforth, I. M., ‘Philoctetes. The Play and the Man,’ University of Calfornia Publications in Classical Philology 15.3 (1956) 95–156, cf. 95–96. 150–51, considered the epiphany as a necessary, if not mechanical, addition to make the myth come out correctly after the real, human drama has concluded; the scene has been considered by Weinstock (n. 104) 90–93, and Whitman, (n. 2) 187, as a sign of the protagonist's inner, moral victory; by Harsh, P. W., ‘The Role of the Bow in the Philoctetes of Sophocles, AJP 81 (1960) 408–14, 410, and Avery, H. C., ‘Heracles, Philoctetes, Neoptolemus,’ Hermes 93 (1965) 279–97, 294, as a pointed rebuke to Philoctetes to act in a heroic manner and aid the Greek cause; by Méautis (n. 83) 94–97, as an act of divine grace to aid the ailing hero; by Grene, D., ‘Philoctetes,’ Reality and the Heroic Pattern (Chicago–London 1967), 136–54, as a direct imposition of divine will with little regard for Philoctetes’ human desires and convictions, and even as a final deception by Odysseus in disguise (see Errandonea, I., ‘Filoctetes,’ Emerita 23 [1955] 122–64, 24 [1956] 72–107; this suggestion is also made by Lattimore, R. in his Story Patterns in Greek Tragedy [London 1964] 45).Google Scholar

¹⁷⁹ It has long been recognized that a major theme in Sophoclean drama is the author's concern over the limitations of traditional moral standards and behavior. In general Philoctetes’ refusal reflects the traditional heroic ethic of helping friends and harming enemies, and the rationale behind his particular response is developed in the scenes following the second kommos, where the dramatist has carefully portrayed two sets of demands for Philoctetes’ allegiance. When Neoptolemus returns with Odysseus it becomes clear that he has progressed from the simplistic attitude he had displayed earlier in the drama, and that his rejection of Odysseus’ δόλος is based upon abstract concerns for justice (cf. Phil 1244–51). This scene in turn prepares for the subsequent one between Philoctetes and Neoptolemus where the return of the bow marks the end of the dichotomy between word and deed, speech and intention that had marred their earlier relationship. (On the theme of speech in the Philoctetes see Podlecki, A. J., ‘The Power of the Word in Sophocles’ Philoctetes,’ GRBS 7 [1966] 233–50, Happe, K. J., ‘Sophocles’ Philoctetes: A Study in Structure’ [diss., Yale University 1964] 28–43, Grene, [n. 178] 143; Calder, W. M., III, ‘Sophoclean Apologia: Philoctetes,’ GRBS [1971] 153–74, however, argues strenuously that this scene and Neoptolemus’ repentence is a ruse [cf. 163].) Neoptolemus then makes a direct appeal to Philoctetes as one γενναος to another to come to Troy, and the force of this appeal is underscored by the brief appearance of Odysseus with his threats of force. When Neoptolemus promptly curbs Philoctetes’ response in kind the dramatist indicates that violence by neither side is an appropriate response, and this in turn centers the audience's attention on Philoctetes’ quandary whether or not he should help his former enemies to gain a future benefit.Google Scholar

¹⁸⁰ For a general comparison and contrast of the three Philoctetes plays see Kieffer, J. S., ‘Philoctetes and Arete,’ CP 37 (1942) 38–50. Calder, W. M., III, ‘Aeschylus’ Philoctetes,’ GRBS 11 (1970) 171–79, and Webster, T. B. L., The Tragedies of Euripides (London 1967) 57, who offer detailed discussions of the Aeschylean and Euripidean predecessors to Sophocles’ play. Although I do not share many of Calder's conclusions about Sophocles’ play (n. 179), I am in complete agreement with his view that this play reflects the political tensions of the period of composition quite directly. See also his ‘Die Technik der sophokleischen Komposition im Philoktet,’ Hellenische Poleis, ed. Welskopf, E. C., 4 Vols. (Berlin 1973) 3.1382–88, in which the author compares the three dramas, and discusses how Sophocles changed elements from the Aeschylean and Euripidean versions to give his drama a closer focus on the internal problems of the period, and M. H. Jameson's ‘Politics and the Philoctetes,’ CP 51 (1956) 217–27, and ‘Sophocles and the Four Hundred,’ Historia 20 (1971) 541–68.Google Scholar

¹⁸¹ The scene with the Emporos offers a very clear-cut and specific example of a technique Sophocles employed to good effect in the Trachiniae of using a scene or speech not to advance the action so much as to intensify and amplify our understanding of the status quo; see Masaracchia, A., ‘La scena dell’ “Eμποϱος nel Filottete di Sofocle,’ Maia 16 (1964) 79–98, and Osterud, S., ‘The Intermezzo with the False Merchant in Sophocles’ Philoctetes,’ Classica et Mediaevalia: F. Blatt septuagenario dedicata, edd. Due, O. S., Johansen, N. F., and Dalsgaard, L. B., C. and M. Diss. IX (Copenhagen 1973) 10–26. The initial departure of Odysseus and Neoptolemus with the bow has prompted considerable debate whether one or both of them is or is not bluffing at this point. As valid as this concern is in the abstract, with Neoptolemus’ return of the bow the issue becomes a moot point. What, perhaps, is more significant about the scene is the way it anticipates the situation just before the epiphany. Possibly Sophocles intended the ‘impossible’ prospect of Philoctetes’ desertion by Odysseus and Neoptolemus to foreshadow the moral dilemma posed by the later scene.Google Scholar

¹⁸² The importance of the distinction between human and divine capacities for knowledge has been recognized in virtually every study of the drama; Reinhardt's comments and distinctions (n. 89) 199–201 are of especial value.Google Scholar

¹⁸³ The prominence of this motif has long been recognized in Sophocles’ late plays. In the Electra endurance has been the watchword of the heroine's existence, and the play depicts the moment when her persistence is finally rewarded. The same is true of the Oedipus at Colonus where the aged blind beggar becomes a figure of commanding power and force simply because he has endured until vindicated by the gods. In all three dramas persistence and integrity can be said to accomplish some form of transfiguration. Baldassari D'Angelo, M. C., ‘La solitudine dell'eroe sofocleo,’ Filosophia 24 (1973) 201–6, has recently considered this aspect of Sophoclean drama from a slightly different perspective in very suggestive terms.Google Scholar

¹⁸⁴ Kitto, H. D. F., Form and Meaning in Drama (London 1956) 106.Google Scholar

¹⁸⁵ Cf. Biggs, (n. 104) 231–35. The crude, violent aspects of heroism suggested by the disease–beast imagery of the play are balanced by the emblematic image and physical presence of Heracles’ bow, and, although the dramatist does employ both sequences of images both singly and in counterpoint and concert with one another to examine the irony of Philoctetes’ situation and behavior, there is a greater separation between the ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ aspects of heroism than in the Trachiniae. Google Scholar

¹⁸⁶ Despite the protest of Rees, K., The So-called Rule of Three Actors in Classical Greek Drama (Chicago 1908), 55–56, who found the notion highly objectionable on a wide variety of grounds, there can be little doubt that the protagonist played both Heracles’ and Deianeira's roles. The rationale behind this allocation of parts has sometimes puzzled the critics (cf. McCall, [n. 117] 142–43) but I believe that Sophocles did this to remind the audience in a very specific, physical way of both the proximity and distance between husband and wife that is developed throughout the drama in so many different ways; see Pavlovskis, Z., ‘The Voice of the Actor in Greek Tragedy,’ CW 71 (1977) 113–23, who applies some of Jones, J.’ (n. 76) and Webster's, T. B. L. (‘The Poet and the Mask,’ Classical Drama and Its Influence, ed. Anderson, M. J. [London 1965] 3–13) remarks on the use of masks and the masking convention to the individual dramas in an effective manner.Google Scholar

¹⁸⁷ See Dickerson, (n. 83) Chap. I, and Dugas, (n. 83); as Hoppin, , (n. 93) 55, observes, Deianeira's response to the natural mutability of human affairs is profoundly colored by the fact that she tends to have no positive hopes.Google Scholar

¹⁸⁸ On the importance of the notion of incommensurability for understanding Greek drama see Segal's, C. very adroit application of Max Sender's concept of ‘guiltless guilt’ to the Hippolytus in his ‘Euripides’ Hippolytus and Scheler's “Phenomenon of the Tragic,”’ Arethusa 3 (1970) 129–46. See also von Fritz, K., ‘Tragische Schuld und poetische Gerechtigkeit in der griechischen Tragödie,’ Antike und moderne Tragödie (Berlin 1962), 1–112 and Funke, H., ‘Die sogenannte tragische Schuld’ (diss., Cologne 1963).Google Scholar

¹⁸⁹ The parallels between the Ajax and the Trachiniae need to be examined in some detail. There are, in my opinion, very strong analogies in the way Sophocles construed the situation and central figure. In both dramas selection from potential sources is such that the integrity of the central figure's intent is subject to intense scrutiny from the outset. We have seen how Lichas’ and the Messenger's accounts of the sack of Oechalia bring the question of Heracles’ heroic conduct to the fore, and Sophocles’ choice of the account of Ajax's madness found in the Little Iliad over the Aethiopis for the base of his narrative creates a similar effect (see Hoppin [n. 93] 10–11, Musurillo, [n. 87] 7–9, Jebb, R. C., Sophocles, The Plays and Fragments , Pt. VII, The Ajax [repr. Amsterdam 1962] ix–xix, Kamerbeek, J. C., The Plays of Sophocles, Pt. I, The Ajax ² [Leiden 1963] 1–6). In both dramas the ironic relationship of the hero to society and the continued viability of traditional heroic ideals is examined in a very demanding manner (see Knox's comments on this theme in the Ajax [n. 168] 3–6). Kirkwood, G. M., ‘Homer and Sophocles’ Ajax,’ Classical Drama and Its Influence, ed. Anderson, M. J. (London 1965) 51–70, has shown how Sophocles uses direct echoes of Homer not only to place the action of the drama into a traditional heroic context but also, and more importantly, to demonstrate the changes that have taken place. The same tension can be discerned in the Trachiniae but in somewhat more abstract terms; we see, in effect, a dramatization of the tension latent in Homer, where Heracles was shown on the one hand as the ultimate paradigm for Achilles and Odysseus and on the other as a flagrant violator of the rights of guest-friendship.Google Scholar

¹⁹⁰ I concur with R's, E. R. assessment of Sophocles as ‘the last great exponent of the archaic world view,’ The Greeks and the Irrational (Berkeley 1956) 49. The links between Sophocles and the temper of the archaic age have been discussed from a variety of perspectives; see, for example, Balasch, M., ‘Sóphocles y Simónides,’ BIEH 1 (1967) 45–63, Diller, (n. 152), Kirkwood, (n. 189), Opstelten, J. C., Sophocles and Greek Pessimism, trans. Ross, J. A. (Amsterdam 1952), van Pesch, (n. 104), Schadewaldt, W., ‘Sophokles und das Leid,’ Hellas und Hesperien (Zürich 1960) 231–47, and Winnington-Ingram, R. P., ‘The Electra of Sophocles, Prolegomena to an Interpretation,’ PCPS n.s. 3 (1954–55) 20–26, and ‘Tragedy and Archaic Greek Thought,’ Classical Drama and Its Influence, ed. Anderson, M. J. (London 1965) 29–50.Google Scholar

¹⁹¹ On the combination of the themes of heroism and justice in the Trachiniae see Lloyd-Jones, H., ‘Greek Tragedy: Sophocles’ Women of Trachis,’ The Greek World , ed. Lloyd-Jones, H. (Harmondsworth–Baltimore–Ringwood 1965) 96–116 and his amplification of Dodds, E. R.’ ‘On Misunderstanding the Oedipus Rex,’ G&R 13 (1966) 37–49, in the fifth chapter of his Sather Lectures, The Justice of Zeus (Berkeley–Los Angeles–London 1971). These studies also demonstrate Sophocles’ archaic ‘temper’ (supra, n. 190).Google Scholar

¹⁹² The quote is from Pound's brief prefatory remarks to his translation, ‘Sophocles, Women of Trachis,’ which first appeared in the Hudson Review 6 (1954) 487–523, and their value should not be discounted either because the sentence concludes ‘and is, at the same time, nearest the original form of god dance’ (487) or because of Pound's unfortunate characterization of Deianeira. On Pound's translation see Mason's judicious remarks (n. 104), Davie, D., Erza Pound: Poet as Sculptor (Oxford 1964) 233–34, and the variety of responses in ‘The Women of Trachis: A Symposium,’ Pound Newsletter 5 (January 1955) 3–8. I share Kenner's, H. opinion, ‘The Poetics of Error,’ Modern Language Notes 90 (1975) 738–46, that, although Pound might be guilty of ‘local misrepresentation’ (744), his instinct in handling Sophocles’ drama was basically correct. Pound possessed a keen sense of the dynamic qualities of the Greek theater and understood quite acutely how the ancient genre reflected civic as well as private aesthetic goals, and it is clear from this translation that Pound recognized and respected the intensity of Sophocles’ Heracles.Google Scholar

This concludes a loosely connected series of studies that began with my ‘Studies in the Use of Myth in Sophocles’ Philoctetes and the Orestes of Euripides,’ Traditio 32 (1976) 29–95, and continued with ‘The World of Myth in Euripides’ Orestes,’ Traditio 34 (1978) 1–28. I would like to express my gratitude to the Board of Editors and to the staff of Fordham University Press for their comments and careful attention to matters of detail.