Jeff Bernstein

Book of the Passion of Saint Margaret the Virgin This tale tells us there was a woman of city Antioch named Margaret, who would not be tempted by the devil, no matter the pains, or the temptations; and a dragon came to swallow her whole. How was it her mouth was larger than his? So Margaret overcame the devil by victory; and, in time, comforted many people with her holy doctrine, converting many to the faith of Cryst; though she herself met with premature death; however, you shall hear her words went on. tbc [ Dragon River No. 6 Photograph Ignas Maldus Lithuanua 2019 ]

Till the fall of the curtain : treasures from the National Fairground Archive Sheffield : The University of Sheffield, 2014.

Book of the Passion of Saint Margaret the Virgin [ place of publication not identified ] : [ publisher not identified ] , [ 1200 to 1350 ].

I beg you, sweet lady, show my love life. Glorious one, show mercy. I beg you, sweet lady; it is the way that I say; my honest heart loves you. Sweet lady, I beg you, show my love life. Lescurel, Ballades, 24. Douce dame, je vous pri, Faites de moi vostre ami. Belle, aies de moi merci. Douce dame, je vous pri Qu'il soit ainsi com je di. De cuer amoureus joli, Douce dame, je vous pri, Faites de moi vostre ami.

Woody Allen and F. Scott Fitzgerald Tom takes his wife's measure with cruel & complacent arrogance : "[W]e're Nordics. I am, and you are and you are and—" After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod . . . "—and we've produced all the things that go to make civilization—oh, science and art and all that." William Hurt reflects on his wife similarly in Alice. Here, too, is the gabble of the idle : ALICE. Do you know how high your IQ is? HURT. Me? It's high. It has to be. Just look around. ALICE. Do you think mine's high? HURT. Sure. (considers) It's average, slightly above. * Women with esoteric moneyed knowledge : DAISY. There's a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale come over on the Cunard or White Star Line. HUSBAND. I was just weighing the pros and cons for her of a Challenger versus a, uh . . . JASMINE. Gulf stream? * DAISY. I'm p-paralyzed with happiness. This first line of Daisy's expresses her general Situation : caught in an unfunny loveless marriage. JASMINE. There was no one like Hal. This first line of Jasmine's expresses her general Situation : caught in loss. She is recalling the man she motivated to suicide; and doing this is a mourning for lost selves, lost pasts, lost futures; mourning what might have been.

Tom Phillips from Dante's Inferno (1979–83) silkscreen page proof

Henry James Positive-Negative statement Amongst all the trials for witchcraft with which we are acquainted, few have attained so great a celebrity as that of the Lady Canoness of Pomerania, Sidonia von Bork. She was accused of having by her sorceries caused sterility in many families, particularly in that of the ancient reigning house of Pomerania, and also of having destroyed the noblest scions of that house by an early and premature death. Notwithstanding the intercessions and entreaties of the Prince of Brandenburg and Saxony, and of the resident Pomeranian nobility, she was publicly executed for these crimes on the 19th of August 1620, on the public scaffold, at Stettin; the only favour granted being, that she was allowed to be beheaded first and then burned. Sidonia the Sorceress, translated by Lady Wilde (1893).

Joseph and Asenette A SHORT FILM FOR EASTER 1. In the first year of the seven years of plenty, Pharaoh sent Joseph abroad to gather wheat. He went into the country of Heliopolis where Potiphar lived as a prince and counsellor to the Pharaoh. He had a daughter beautiful beyond all earth in his eyes, whose name was Asenette. But so austere was Asenette in all her ways she may have been the natural daughter of the Hebrew. Lofty and orguillous in temper, she said she despised all men. She was such that no man had ever seen the like. There was joined to Potiphar’s house a tower great and high, and the top was round like a globe, and within it were contained ten chambers. The walls of the first chamber were decorated in precious marble stones of many colours describing a desert in mosaic; and the ceiling was of gold. Inside the first chamber were Egyptian gods standing with bodies of gold and silver whom Asenette worshipped night and day. 2. The second chamber held her adornments and jewellery, all in gold and silver and precious stones; and her well-woven linen, too. The third room was Asenette’s bedchamber. There were three windows, the largest looking east. Here was her bed with woven gold blanket, and a second blanket of gold- and hyacinth- and purple-threaded textile, plush and cosy. No man had ever sat on the young girl’s bed. The house was surrounded by a grand court, the wall of which was excellent, built of thick square stones. Four iron gates stood in the courtyard, guarded by eighteen well-armed men. There was a fountain of living water in the court, and below it a cistern received its water, thence to irrigate all the many trees in the yard, standing beautiful and heavy with fruit. Asenette lay back on her bed and thought about life. She was as grand as Sara, as charming as Rebecca, as beautiful as Rachel. 3. Meanwhile, Joseph sent a message to Potiphar, informing him he wished to visit his house. Potiphar was in great joy at this and he said to his daughter : “Joseph, strong with God, is coming, and I hope to give your hand to his in marriage.” Asenette, who hated all men, spoke out : “I don’t want marriage with a slave!” she said. “Better the son of Pharaoh!” While she spoke a messenger stepped forward and said : “Joseph is come.” Asenette went up the stairway of the tower while Joseph came in a chariot of Pharaoh, shining all golden and drawn by four snow-white horses in trappings of gold. Joseph came dressed in a bright-white vestment of rich linen, very resplendent, and over this a mantel of purple stitched with gold thread; and on his head he wore a crown of gold, fitted to which were twelve precious stones reflecting twelve shining stars in the sun; and in his hands he held a royal sceptre, and also an olive branch lush with fruit. 4. He stepped down from the chariot and husband and wife came to meet him, and they worshipped him. He entered the court and the iron doors were shut behind him. From on high Asenette looked down on him. “Son of God?” she said. “I do not know, but he brings beauty. Who would have thought a man born of woman could show such light? 5. Joseph entered Potiphar’s house and he said : “Who was that standing in the window of the tower? She must go out of the house.” He was afraid that she would be trouble like all the others with their love notes and suggestive gifts, all of which he had refused with great indignation. “Sire,” said Potiphar, “my daughter is a virgin, and she despises men, and never looks on them except for me, and now you. If you wish I will summon her, and she will come and salute you.” So Joseph’s mind turned in thought. If she hates all men, he said to himself, than she will never be a trouble to me. So he spoke unto the father, and said : “I shall love her as my sister.” So the mother went for the daughter as Joseph stared straight ahead; and she was brought into his sight. 6. And the father said, “Salute your brother, who scorns men just as you do!” And Asenette said, “Blessed of God, I salute you.” “Woman who brings life,” Joseph said, “you are blessed of God.” And Potiphar urged his daughter to accept a kiss from Joseph. And Asenette went forward to do this, but Joseph stood still, and he raised a hand up to her breasts, and he kept her still, too. “It ill suits a man who worships God,” he said, “the living God, who eats the bread of life, and who drinks from the silver cup of immortality, to kiss a strange woman who kisses dead idols, and who eats bread from their table, and drinks from their earthen cups, and who anoints herself in disagreeable oils.” 7. Asenette heard Joseph’s words and was very angry, and she wept. And she departed to her chamber and lay down upon her bed, and was weak from fear, and joy. For she renounced all her gods. Downstairs, Joseph ate and drank. Although he said he wanted to stay, he told his friend Potiphar he had to go, but promised to return on the eighth day. 8. Now Asenette took a black tunic, the cloth of sorrow she’d used when her younger brother died. She closed her chamber doors to hide her tears, then dropped all her idols onto the floor; and tossed all her holy offerings of food to the dogs; then put ashes on her head and on the floor, and she wept bitterly for seven days. 9. On the eighth day, at dawn, the roosters crowed and the dogs barked and Asenette looked out the window that faced the east and saw a shining star grand and clear, the morning star. And the heavens opened up and a great light appeared and it fell upon her face and look! she saw a man come down from Heaven who stood before her, who called her by her name; but for fear she did not answer. A second time he called her : “Asenette! Asenette!” “You see me, sire,” she answered. “What is it you want? Tell me. Who are you?” He said : “I am a prince in the House of God. God leads an army of princes. Come, rise, stand on your feet and I will speak to you.” 10. Asenette lifted her head, and look! A man stood by her very like Joseph, with robe and royal sceptre and crown. His face was like lightning; his eyes like the rays of the sun; the hair on his head, a flame of fire. Seeing this, an angel with human face, she collapsed to the floor in fear, and the angel bent to comfort her. He lifted her up and said : “Take off that black cloth from around your body. Shake away the ashes from your head. Wash your face and hands with living water then dress yourself in your jewellery. Then I will speak to you.” And when she had adorned herself hastily, she returned to the angel. And the angel said to her : “Uncover your head, Asenette. Be strong, young girl, rejoice, for your name is written in the book of life, and it shall never be crossed out. From this day on you are made alive, you are reborn, you shall eat the bread of blessing, you shall drink the drink of immortality, you shall be anointed with the chrism. I give you to be Joseph’s bride, for you are the daughter of the Most High who has prayed for your redemption; and you shall be a cheerful, modest, always smiling woman. Now when Asenette asked the angel his name, he answered : “My name is written by the finger of God in the book of the Most High, and no words that are written there are suitable for mortal man and woman to hear and speak them.” 11. Then Asenette took hold of his robe and addressed him above her : “We have won each other’s hearts. Please, sit now a little on my bed, here where no one else has ever sat, and I will prepare a table for you.” “Bring it quickly,” said the angel. And she set before him a clean table, with bread and wine and fresh herbs. “Come now!” said the angel. “Bring me a honeycomb.” And she stood sorrowful, for she had no honeycomb. And the angel said to her : “Go into your cellar and you will find a honeycomb.” And she went, and she found, white as snow, the purest honey, and the smell of it was sweet. 12 The angel smiled at the understanding of Asenette, and he stretched out his hands, and he touched her head, and said : “You are blessed, Asenette, for you have opened your eyes to the false and to the true, and you believe in the one living God. Blessed are those who come to Him, for they shall taste of the honey. Whoever eats of it shall never die.” He broke a small part of the honeycomb and ate, and put the rest into the mouth of Asenette. And he said : “See now! You have eaten of the bread of life. You have been anointed with the honey of paradise. From this day onward your body and life shall be renewed, your breasts shall be renewed, your strength shall be unfailing, your youth shall never see age nor your beauty ever fail; but you shall be a megalopolis built for all those who seek refuge in the name of the one living God, who is the one almighty king of all.” 12. Hear, then! A servant came in to report, saying, “See! Joseph, strong with God, comes here, for I, his runner, already stand at your door.” And Potiphar and his family made haste to welcome Joseph and stood together by the running fountain in the courtyard of their house. When Joseph entered the court Asenette lowered to the ground and saluted him. The next day, Joseph asked Pharaoh to have Asenette as wife, and Pharaoh gave her to him, and him to her, and put on them the best crowns of gold that he had, and bid them kiss each other, and bound them in marriage. There was a great feast of more than seven days, and Pharaoh commanded that no one should work in all the days of Asenette’s wedding feast. And he called Joseph the son of God; which made Asenette, as he called her, the daughter of the Most High. THE END. 18–20 APRIL 2025

Sierpinski triangle? As in MGM?! Grand Hotel (1932). This lamp design, and Sierpinski motif, are visible throughout MGM movies of the 1930s.

Tom Phillips, Humbert No. 94.

Les Quinze Joyes de Mariage René Ben Sussan (illustrator) Éditions Jardin du Luxembourg, Paris, 1948.

Odysseus & the Sirens Greek Vase Reproduction by Sofia Gkani.

Les aventures d'Ulysse Casterman, 2016.

Arriving at the tail end of the French Revolution, here is a colossally popular translation of Fénelon—one of the many throughout Europe, and beyond. Robert Southey, for example, a friendly contemporary of the romantic Lyrical Ballads, had just published his patriotic poems, inspired by the French nation; indeed, revolution was in the air. Soon would appear Shelley's "Ode to Liberty" and "Prometheus Unbound" in the 1820s, when revolutions for independence were sweeping through various countries of Europe, including Greece, where Lord Byron joined the fight. "Submission," says Prometheus, "thou dost know I cannot try." (1.395) And the striving of all these Romantic artists to promote the primacy of the individual striving towards-humanness . . . led to what? Fast forward to Rilke and his Sonnets to Orpheus : Nur der Tote trinkt aus der hier von uns gehörten Quelle Only the dead drink from the source we hear now Uns wird nur das Lärmen angeboten. We are only given noise. Heidegger would have us overcome the twin misconceptions of history and tourism and breathe the air of the ancients as if back at the first, for this air has never gone away from the earth, but is with us now, fresh and fructifying. We must release ourselves from the rotten, collapsing framework of the Inhuman, and sojourn, as children in Eden, within the open space of freedom, where we take deep breaths of inspiration. (Recalling Yeats' poem "A Coat" : There's more enterprise in walking naked.) But what is towards-humanness up against? As Heidegger considered the Situation while on a sojourn to Greece in the 1960s : The unstoppable modern technology, together with the scientific industrialisation of the world, is about to obliterate any possibility of a sojourn. Not yet, though. Some artists, even now, even as Odysseus, persist. ¶ TO THE NAME ULYSSES ADD THE LETTER E, & PRODUCE ULYESSES is a word in Old French. ¶ lyesse. Joy, gladness, jubilation. EVEN : personne qui est source de joie.

The season dropped its cover of wind, of cold, and of rain, and put on embroidery, brilliant and gorgeous sunshine. There is nor beast nor bird that in its own tongue doesn't sing or cry, "The season dropped its cover!" Rivers, fountains and brooks donned as pretty dress silver droplets of a silversmith; everyone puts on new clothes; the season dropped its cover. Charles of Orléans, Rondeau Le temps a laissé son manteau. De vent, de froidure et de pluie, Et s’est vêtu de broderie, De soleil luisant, clair et beau. Il n’y a bête, ni oiseau Qu’en son jargon ne chante ou crie : Le temps a laissé son manteau. Rivière, fontaine et ruisseau Portent en livrée jolie, Gouttes d’argent d’orfèvrerie, Chacun s’habille de nouveau : Le temps a laissé son manteau.

UNDER THE LENS : mesme In the final lines of Finnegans Wake Scrooby reads the word mememormee. Lately Scroob encountered, in the Pythonic Les Quinze Joyes de Mariage (1400s), the word mesmement ("same") and, rere regardant, Scroob thought of Joyce. Dictionaries, including Dictionnaire du Moyen Français (1330-1500) and Trésor de la langue française informatisé, trace mesmement back to the old French mesme ("same"). Now for a bit of fun. mesme descends from the vulgar Latin metipsimus / metipsissimus. Now, for one thing, -met is a suffix, an intensifer. The suffix -issimus is also an intensifer. ipse means I, the self. So a rough enjambment coined a word that sprang, eventually, the Joycean mememormee. ¶ An alternate form of mesme, from the same metipsissimus, is meme (same). Curiously, what does not derive from mesme is mesmerize.

GENIUS MOVE : the three-word line. “You are the former steward of the great courtier Petepre?” he asked. “I am he,” answered Joseph in all simplicity. And yet this was rather a strong answer. He might have replied : “As you have said,” or “My lord knows the truth,” or more floridly : “Maat speaks out of your mouth.” But in the first place just “I am he,” spoken, of course, quite simply but with a sober smile, was a little incorrect; one did not speak in the first person to superiors but said “your servant,” or with even greater self-disparagement “this servant here.” And in the second place the “I” was too prominent : associated with the “he,” it roused a vague suspicion that it referred to more than merely the stewardship which was all that was in question. There was an implication that question and answer did not quite match, that the answer overlapped the question and might tempt the questioner to another question : “What are you?” or even “Who are you?” over and above that. [ . . . ] “Yes, yes, so you are,” said he. Possibly at the moment he did not know himself just what he meant by that. Thomas Mann, Joseph and His Brothers, "The Governor of the Prison"

Long before Viktor und Viktoria (1933) . . . "And all the while waiting alertly was Odysseus." . . . THE FIRST CROSS-DRESSING COMEDY IN WORLD LITERATURE? Statius / The Achilleid In this charming tale from the ancient world, young Achilles, aided and abetted by his sea-goddess mother, conceals himself as a woman in order to flee the responsibilites of the Trojan War. Special guest-star Odysseus, fresh from the battlefield at Troy, arrives at the boy's hiding place, intent on unmasking him. Does this psychedelic slapstick comedy end happily? Get comfortable, kind Reader, and enjoy the show. ¶ YOUR SCROOBY'S TRANSLATION IN FIFTEEN-SYLLABLE LINES EMULATES THE METRICS OF THE ORIGINAL LATIN TEXT. 2. Outrunning the military of city Lacedaemon, Prince Alexandros of Troy, with lovely Helen beside him, had launched his ships onto river Eurotas, and was threading toward the sea and safety. Nothing more beautiful had he seen living or unliving than Helen, so he had won her heart, the now-absconded queen of Lacedaemon. She put her hand in his as he fled his crime—all according to his mother’s prophecy, dreamed long ago while he had kicked in the womb. She had seen herself birth a fire that set her city aflame. (But what man doesn’t believe himself able to outwit Fate?) And so Alexandros made for the sea, and his course for home. Now Nereid Helle, swimming amid sparkles of sunlight, unhappy to be in the sea but doomed for eternity to haunt its waves—so that the Hellespontos itself received its name from this once-mortal princess—took sight of the many ships with an interest, then dove down deep into the under. So soon it was sea-goddess Thetis who rose up through the dark. (Ah, you parents, you whose predictions are too-often fulfilled!) She took fright at the oarpaddles frothing in the transparent sea. The seawaters boiled between the shores of the strait, through which the Golden Fleece had once come. The fleet’s ferment had disarranged its level surface and disrupted its many mistresses; so Thetis, with all her many sisters, leapt out of the waves. When they came into the air, first they shook off the salty spray from their bodies. Then Thetis spoke : “This fleet seeks to attack me! They sail toward slaughter, and would put my son in Hades’ place. I understand these signs. What my father warned me is coming true. Bellona, goddess of death, brings Priam a new daughter-in-law.” From behind her closed eyes Thetis said : “I see a thousand keels defiling the Ionian Sea, and the Aegean. Greece united with Atreus won’t be satisfaction enough; they’ll also want my son. Soon they’ll look across land and sea to find Achilles—and he will voluntarily follow. They’ll find him by Pelion Mountain, where Chiron once tutored Jason, and Heracles, and Theseus—and now my Achilles. Right now I see him in playbattles with the Centaurs as guides, and he already regards himself as strong as his father, silly thing. Ah, sadness! for a mother to feel such a fear for her child! How maddening, that at the first, when the trees of his homeland were felled and fitted together as seaships that came our way, I and all my sisters failed to raise up the sea, and break their sails, and sink these unholy criminals down in a fathomless storm! It’s too late now! The crime has happened!” So what, sea-goddess Thetis thought to herself, would she do now? “I will go,” she said, “to Zeus—there is nothing else I can do— and beg him the best way I can—and I’ll appeal to his love for his own mother Rhea, and father—and ask for a storm.” 3. Thus spoke Thetis, who then shot up like lightning into the heavens. High Zeus, then, infinite in age and sight, came into view. Though as spacious as all Time and Space, he yet reduces the size of his dimensions, to taste of the delights of Creation. Just now he was returning from the hospitable table of river Oceanus with a face of sheer contentment : nectar drawn off from the river-waters had left him relaxed. His horses skimmed the sea-surface so lightly, hardly any sea-spray dappled the warm evening air. The mermans haunting the rocks of the sea sang quietly as the god passed them by. No storm or wind frustrated his homeward journey. God, then, coming into the Tyrrhenian Sea, received salute from seraphim following above and below him. And he passed Thetis by as if unawares and returned to Olympus. So sea-goddess Thetis appealed next to Poseidon. He came to her astride his triple horses, who were equine in chest, but with fins behind them which wiped out their prints as they galloped on the deep. And Thetis said : “O great father! Monarch of the Under! See what misery they bring to your seas! Criminals fleeing the land now sail safely ever since Jason shattered the illustricity of your waves with his thievery! Now another criminal flees along your routes, the man who chose recklessly on sacred Ida! Ah! What impious injury to heaven and earth! And furthermore—to me! Is this how we enjoy our privilege? Are those two following the rightful ways of Aphrodite? Or maybe it’s ingratitude from Aphrodite, child of the sea? These ships don’t carry the pious, or Theseus! If any honour is due to you and these waters, drown them! Or abandon all of your sovereignty over the seas. What I ask is nothing cruel : allow me to fear for my son. Prevent a flood of grief from taking me away! Don’t think of me off on a beach somewhere, alone, with my head bowed to the waves, and the stones of a tomb raised beside me.” Thus did Thetis plead to Poseidon. During all this begging the goddess had carved up her cheeks with her clawed fingernails. Now her dazzling face was etched with beads of immortal blood, and she wildly blocked his horses’ way with her bared breasts. So the Monarch of the Seas pulled up on his reins. Poseidon invited Thetis sea-goddess into his golden chariot. Then he began to speak to her in a kind and loving way while holding her hand, to soothe her. “Those ships will sail by whether we like it or not, Thetis. I cannot destroy them. The Fates will have their way and cannot be prevented, even by gods. We are at their mercy, too.” Poseidon with one hand cleansed the woe from the goddess’ face; the other he dropped on her knee. Poseidon then continued : “Ages ago Europe and Asia were fated for battle with bloody hands; and Zeus has allowed it, and so it shall be. That fleet sails unawares into ten long years of slaughter. But your son shall gain imperishable glory in the dust by the Scamander. You shall see sights of his heroism unmatched by man. He shall leave many Trojan mothers weeping for their sons. The grandson of Aeacides shall flood the plain with blood, and the rivers, too—and a terrible fate awaits Priam’s Hector. Your Achilles will even tear down the walls I built there!—and the ancient Ilium shall go up in flames.” Thus he spoke. Thetis then lightly lifted his hand from her knee. The god saw her face glowing fresh and smooth again, and he said : “Men all over shall believe your Achilles no son of man, but of Zeus. And your grief won’t go unanswered. You will use my waters—I shall let you—to bring that fleet there to the bottom of the sea. When the time comes and Cape Caphereus ignites its lights, the homeward ships will wreck themselves on the rocks, and we will pass no little time in terrorizing Odysseus.” 4. The god had spoken, and the lowered eyes of Thetis goddess showed her misfortune at the rejection. She had been hoping to scuttle the criminal ships threading through the Hellespont, but it was not to be. So her thoughts turned to something other. With three long sad thoughtful strokes she swam across the Aegean and came to Haemonia, place of magic. Her naked feet stepped up out of the foam and onto the land of ancient Greece. The Hills of Cynoscephalae raised their heads in happiness to see her; while many caverns broadened, like a smile, to invite her in. Delightedly the Sperchios River hugged her ankles when she stepped in its fresh-water stream. Thetis, though, took no joy in the place. With her heart and mind in distress, the goddess, hoping desperation might give her eloquence, sought out the reverend tutor Chiron. Reaching his dwelling required an arduous journey up a steep mountainside through difficult and unpleasant terrain, to find the one cave opening that led to his vast dwelling inside, on whose roof rested the entire summit and tip of Pelion Mountain. Part was hollowed out by hand, part cracked wide by decaying age. Signa and couches of the gods furnished the interior— these ornaments distinguished the spots where each Olympian had excavated the rock. The Centaur’s home comprised a network of many airy caves. Unlike his violent brother Centaurs, here the many spear-points were clean of human blood, and no shafts had fractured during drunken warplay. Not one mixing-bowl here had been flung at a brother during a feast. Here, the quivers hung neatly on pegs in open spaces softened by many animal skins. All these weapons, long retired from service, memorialized his youth. These days he went around unarmed, and worked at researching his herbs that gave medicinal care to spirits hanging in the balance; or he strummed his lyre and sang of ancient heroes as instruction to his student. Now the cave went dim, and goddess Thetis turned to see Chrion standing four-footed at the threshold, the half-horse, half-human Centaur, now a looming shadow, blocking the only way out. But he stepped forward with a smile, and invited her in (though she stood inside already), and he took her hand in his, courteously. And while overjoyed at the sight of her, his shoulders sank at the thought of his crude dwelling in her eyes, and he warned her of the unsteady places of his cavern. Then the dignified healer bent to his hearth. He brightened things with a fire, and began preparing a meal; and Thetis sea-goddess began to speak, saying : “Chiron! Where is my child? And tell me since when does the boy live apart from you for any length of time? Old friend, tell me this! Shall a mother ignore the signs in her nightmares, breathed into her mind from the gods, inspiring many terrors? Sometimes I see sword-points piercing my womb from the inside out; sometimes fears overcome me like wild animals tearing my breasts. Even under water I wring my hands dry with lamentation. Worse horror—In my dreams I see myself bearing my own son down into Hades and drenching him in the waters of the Styx. Now I have more secrets to tell you. The old man of the sea instructs me to purify my son in a rite by the shores of Oceanus, if I am to undo my fears. I’m to stand facing the west and its unknown waters warmed by the declining stars at dawn. There we must make terrible sacrifices—gifts to unknown gods. But to say it all would take ages; and I am forbidden to speak of it anyway. Just tell me where to find my son.” Thus spoke Thetis, weaving a fabricated tale for Chiron. For how could she tell him she planned to dress her son in girls’ clothes? 5. “He is yours, good mother” (he said) “he’s yours, and with him my hope the gods answer your prayers—for your panic seems unmanageable. I’d prefer not to add to your fears, but I must tell the truth : your son is growing colossal, far beyond his thirteen years, and omens in the air speak of things unimaginable in preparation. He obeyed me—once. He heard instruction. Nor would he journey far from the cave. But now all Greece itself cannot contain his vast spirit. When even Centaurs complain, his behaviour must be bad. They speak of him cleaning their homes out and carrying their cattle away while they look on helplessly, or even chased off—while he laughs!—from their own rivers and fields. Now they make threats. They want his blood, and have set up ambushes. I’ve seen many heroes in my time—Alcides, Theseus. . . . But hush! Words may be sharp as blades, but silence is best of all.” Then her heart leapt in terror when she saw him enter the cave. He entered with tranquil eyes, the gaze of Apollo when he returns from the wild and rejects his arrows for the lyre. The boy was indeed much bigger than before; in height he was his mother’s match. Amid sweat and dust he handled his weapons, but was still sweet to look on. His face radiated the heat of youth; his Hyacinthian hair shone like gold; and she saw the mother in the look of the child. By chance he entered cheerfully (see how happiness increases outward beauty!) cradling in his powerful arms, and moving avidly, a bunch of lion cubs he’d playfully stolen from their beds. When he saw his mother he let the cubs go, and encouraged them to scurry back to their own cave and mother, while Achilles embraced Thetis. Following close behind was Patroclus, who looked exhausted, having striven to keep up with his friend. But he had a long way to go to reach such strength. He, too, was fated to see majestic Ilium, and to fall with it. 6. Later he ran through the forest, and leapt into the first stream he came to, refreshing his cheeks and hair by the fountainhead, the spray rising like smoke curling around him. Venerable Chiron arranged the boy’s hair with a reverent touch, and washed his chest clean, and his heavy shoulders. But Thetis watched in pain, and Chiron implored her to take just a morsel of the feast, or a drop of wine, and prepared for her many delicacies. Then he lifted his lyre, breathing in inspiration; and, testing its strings with a thumb tip first, he sang songs of consolation. He planted seeds in the boy of monumental heroism : Heracles : and Pollux : and Theseus and the Minotaur : and the Olympian marriage-night of Peleus and Thetis (and in her dejection the memory roused a slight smile). When it was time for bed, the huge Chiron relaxed on bare rock, and Achilles slept on top of him, as upon a pillow. Though his mother was there, the boy had done the usual thing. 7. Thetis, meanwhile, was awake, and looking out at the sea, standing in the wave-sounds shimmering around the moonlit rocks. She pondered the best hiding-place for her son. Which land was best to conceal Achilles? Her mind went one way, then another. She thought of Thrace to the northeast; then remembered Ares, god of war, was its guardian, and rejected the idea. Macedonia, a warlike people, was not an option. Nor was Attica, whose superior weaponry would tempt Achilles. Too much ship traffic made Sestos inconvenient, and the bay of Abydos. She decides to bring him south, to the Cyclades. And of all the islands there, she chooses Skyros. (Not long since, while passing its shores, she heard voices of young girls playing, echoing all the way from the palace of their father Lycomedes.) This idea pleased her, and allayed her fears somewhat. Imagine a pregnant bird stepping with care among the branches to find a spot to build its nest. She thinks ahead : this place is open to winds, that place is threatened by snakes, or men. At last, though still dubious, she decides on a spot in the shade to place her twigs, and ever after loves the tree. One more care remained for the worried goddess to decide on : should she carry her son in her arms as she moved through the sea? Should she ask the merman god Triton on the sea floor for help? Perhaps the wingèd winds might carry her along if she asked? Would Iris who often walks on the waves answer her summons? And then goddess Thetis decided to believe in herself. She called into the sea and her dolphins broke through the surface. Thetis joined the pair for travel with a bridle of seashells. Maxima Tethys, Oceanus’ wife, had reared the two, silvery and sleek, deep under the raging Atlantic waves, in a calm hollow. Nothing swimming in waters anywhere showed such dignity of form, such strength to glide, or minds to match man’s. Their mistress bid them stop before the beach, so that the earth might not cut their skins. Then she went and took her son in her arms, and together they departed the cavern Haemonii and descended the rocky mountainside, following a path blazed by the full moon, to the waterside. The waves were at rest, for Thetis had commanded the sea to be silent. Chiron came up behind her on the beach, and begged her to return quick, but she was already gone. For a long while he stared into her frothy wake until it disappeared in the liquid deep. For Achilles the Centaurs and the mountains of Othrys were sad, for he was never to return. River Sperchios likewise flowed slower; and the cave was almost wholly silent. The Fauns miss his childish songs; while the Nymphae cry over lost marriage dreams. 8. At dawn the stars, scattered by light, cascaded out of the sky, and Helios rose up from beyond the level sea. The sun’s spinning wheels dripped salty drops down through empty air, as day broke. The mother had already crossed the waves to Skyros; and her dolphins, loosened from their reins, had retired to rest. The child’s sense became infused with day, which shook him awake; and with eyes wide open he took in the sunshine of the morning. “What is this place?” (he asked himself) “Which waters are these? Where has Pelion gone? Everything is changed!” The boy even doubts the sight of his mother. Thetis took frightened Achilles in her arms and caressed him, and spoke to him mildly : “You look upon your mother, dear child, poor as I am. Think of it! Both Zeus and Poseidon wanted me, but I married your father instead. Right now you and I might be suspended as stars in the sky, glittering forever, and those gods would be protecting us. Yet I stand low before the Fates. I fear actual death—yours! You have a weakness your mother is trying to outrun. Child! For all your strength, you’re too human. You can die. This I know is close. You await a terrible end—unless you relax your scruples, son; just a little bit. Submit to the situation, mighty Achilles—hide your manliness, and put on my clothes.” Achilles recoiled from his mother’s arms, and shook his head. “If Heracles put his strong hand on soft wools for Omphale” (she continued) “and if it’s all right with Bacchus to conceal his body in full-length robes; if even Zeus looked like a woman once, when he sought the nymph Callisto; and think of Caeneus, the hunter who switched genders and became invulnerable;— I beg you to hear me, Achilles! Help rid us of our nightmares! Soon you’ll be back in your fields running riot with the Centaurs; but for now I want you to put on girls’ clothes. I beg you, son, by everything I am, and everything you are, your beauty and your strength. If once your own mother went down into Hades to soak you in the waters of the Styx, all for your own good; and if I settled, for your sake, on marriage with a human— then cover yourself in girls’ clothes for a while, to be safe! It will do you no injury. Why do you look at me like that? What’s hidden behind those beautiful eyes? You think you’ll feel tame in my dress? You won’t, son. It takes away none of your strength. (On my honour, I promise Chiron will hear nothing of this.)” Thus spoke Thetis, a petrified mother. But her son bristled at her speech, and recoiled when she showed him women’s garments. Every inch his father’s son, Achilles stubbonly refused. Both his inborn virility and his great nature refused. It was as if she were trying to bridle a wild horse, one fired with youth’s passion and upset now at her attempt. All day the horse with honour superb had delighted in the fields and rivers, and his mouth revolts to wear the bit, and his neck refuses to be yoked. He denies rule, and wonders at the new. 9. O Muse, tell which god it was who favoured the terrified parent. Who occasioned the possibility for an artful fraud? What bent unbending Achilles? In fact it was simple chance that on Scyros that day the people were celebrating a public holiday for Athena of the Beach. The gentle sisters of the palace of Lycomedes had left their walls at daybreak (a rare freedom), and went forth into their homeland to scatter the flowers of spring as an offering to Pallas. They decorated her statue, weaving shining foliage into the austere ringlets, and binding garlands to the spear. In beauty each sister was alike extraordinary to see. Dressed the same in shining linen, each had reached the period of modesty, their young maturity, of age and ready for the marriage bed. But as Aphrodite outshines the Nymphs when she joins them in the sea, and as much as Artemis looms over the shoulders of the Naiads, so Deidamia stood out gracefully in the dance with her beautiful sisters. A red blush incensed the ivory skin of her face, rosier than the others; her gems shone brighter; her gold showed more lustre. The boy had never seen any girl so beautiful (unless Athena came to drop her breastplate, and remove her helmet). When the rough boy, whose heart had never been taken, watched them dance, and watched Deidamia in motion with extended arms conducting the rest, Achilles went stiff, the very marrow of his bones felt aflame. It was a feeling he had no power over—something new. It was no secret either, this impulse of his : the fire from his marrow circulated to his face, which burned red all over, and sweat roamed all over his body. Just as the Massagetae mix blood into their cups of milk; and just as ivory may get corrupted by purple dye; so the boy manifested this new and unexpected fire in various ways, both paling and blushing (depending on the spot). Achilles was ready to leap forward wildly; heedless of the time, he would have disrupted the joyous dance, if not for his native decency, and respect for his mother. Imagine : the future father and boss cow of the herd, whose horns have not yet reached full length, beholds a snow-white cow at pasture, and his soul catches aflame, and his mouth foams over with love, to the laughter of the herders. So now sea-goddess Thetis, sensitive of her son, seizes the moment, and advances : “Why not join the dance? Go lock arms with those playful girls. Pretend! How hard is that, child? Have you even seen anything like them under chilly mountain Ossa, or on the top of Pelion? How delightful your marriage will be for me! Your mother will have a little Achilles to cradle in her arms!” Not-so- little Achilles hesitated. He smiled a naughty smile as he eyed the girls sidelong; and his stiff-arming hand, holding back the clothing, weakened. The mother saw her chance and attacked. She slipped shining linen over his head and yanked it down his body. Straightening the neckline, she had him lower his heavy shoulders and loosen his strong arms. Then she went to battle with his hair, straightening the uncombed as best she could. Thetis then transferred a necklace from mother to son. The embroidered hem hobbled his movements, so mother gave him quick lessons in poise and step, and how to sound shy in speech. Just as an artist’s thumb puts life into wax, which accepts the shape from the hand and its fire, so the goddess changed the look of her son. And when she was done, it was no struggle for her to believe. His allure enchanted, it was deceptive to sight; his beauty was tough to pin down. Unfixedly his character wavered between the sexes. 10. They went forward with Thetis fussing with him, tirelessly repeating her hints and warnings to Achilles, but gently : “That’s the way to walk, yes, that’s the way to hold your head, and hands. Child, adopt the fashions of your companions, imitate them as you can, so no one will suspect you, such as the king, and our crafty fiction end as fast as it began.” Thus spoke Thetis, while fretting with his appearance, touching it up, as they approached Lycomedes and stopped before him. Thetis appealed to Pallas as witness, then said : “O great king, I give you my girl, sister of Achilles. See how gentle she looks. (So unlike her brother!) She has a mind to fit the quiver to these weak shoulders. Like an Amazonian, with weapons and iron she would live who knows where, and never get married! Let her live with you. Let her carry the baskets of holy things. You will tame her wild spirit, and keep her as a girl. (Until marriageable and the relaxing of modesty.) Restrain her from immoderate gymnastics and wrestlings, nor let her roam the forest groves. Raise her within the palace; shelter her with girls like herself. And please, I beg you, keep her far from the beaches and harbour! You see mysterious sails nowadays. Ships have learned to cross the sea, and they snatch people!” The king waved them forward, and accepted the goddess’ gift, taking the grandson of Aeacus disguised by Thetis’ art. (Who could resist a goddess’ deceits?) Not only does he accept Achilles, he kneels before her right hand and thanks her for thinking of him. The good girls of Scyros, meantime, had fixed themselves around the new girl, and were reaching out to touch her. They noted her charming face, how she stood head and hair taller than the rest, how broad her chest was, and her shoulders. At this time she joined the society of the pious sisters of Scyros. They invited her into the dance, and she entered with joy. As with birds flocking in the sky over Ida, having broken through soft clouds : when a stranger bird flies their way, the flock wonders, and trembles; but by and by they start to come closer, and closer, till she flies in accord with their flapping wings. Finally, then, the flock brings the new one cheerfully back with them to its nests. Leaving, Thetis hesitates at the gate, repeating her hints and warnings in a furtive murmuring in his ear, her face averted from the others. Then the sea takes her in. Far off, she turns her long neck round and speaks a prayer to the island : “Dearest land” (she said) “to whom I’ve entrusted my much-loved child, may you all be happy, and I pray you keep my secret. Great honour will come to you if you safeguard my Achilles, and not even floating Delos shall outdo your fame. The winds and waves shall come to you as to a holy place, respectful, a quiet place among the Cyclades for the Nereids, who shall wade in your shallows while the Aegean storms shatter the rocks in the sea. You shall be the island that answers sailors’ prayers. Just don’t allow any Greek sails to come into port, I beg you! ‘This is the place of the dance, with nothing of use for war here!’—let Rumour speak these words far and wide! So while the Greeks arm themselves, and Ares interferes in the war of the worlds (and what he does is no business of mine), Achilles, meanwhile, shall be the good king’s daughter.” 11. Meanwhile, a suffering Europe prepares for furious war, assembling its arms and armour, seeking sweet revenge on its enemy. The kings become impatient for conquest, as Agamemnon son of Atreus (whose own wife is at home) makes the rounds, sharpening his argument with every telling. ‘Helen, child of Heaven, stolen!—without war, without weapons! Law and order and Heavenly rule have all been violated in one act of robbery! This is Troy’s idea of treaties? Is this good commercial business between the two continents? What should our peoples expect, if their kings are so disrespected?’ So the peoples of all ages flock together against Asia. Greece is outraged all the way from Argos to the Hellespont. A fiery love of war arouses all the shaken cities. Tamassus forges bronze. Doliche roils its shores with shipyards. Mycenae's anvils take the hammer and echoes everywhere. Pisa builds new chariots. Nemea delivers wild beast skins. Cirrha competes to fill arrow-bearing quivers. Lerna nails bulls’ hides (many layers deep) as shields. Aetolia and A- car-na-ni-a provide companies of fierce infantryman. Argos drives its fleet. Arcadia’s pastures yield up their sheep. Epiros bridles its horses. The shady spaces of Phocis and Aoniae reduce, as ashen spears are produced in bulk. Pylos and Messena build engines to catapult missiles. No region of Greece is unemployed. Swords, age-old heirlooms of ancestral victories, are taken down from over door-posts, and melted in the fire as gifts to the gods. (Warring Ares uses gold for brutal purposes.) Now the ancient forests are gone : the summits of Othrys and Taygetus stand bare. Mountain rock sees sky, for all Greece’s forests now float on the sea. Oakwood for planking, the oars weaker timber. Iron is used, and in innumerable ways : to nail prows, to tip spears, to harness the warhorses, and to make the chain mail, soon to reek with blood, and take wounds, while striking death with swords dipped in poison. Whetstones are ground down to sharpen the weapons, to turn the dull to lethal. Endless is the bending of bows, the casting of lead projectiles, the sharpening of stakes, the raising of plumed helmets. During all this activity Thessaly alone laments her peace, and weeps over her fate, for Peleus, king of the Myrmidons, is now an old man, and Achilles his son is still too young to fight. So Ares has emptied out Greece of its men, madly hurling them all onto decks and horses. The harbours boil over with ships, and as the fleet advances storm-like whips up the waves. The sea runs out of room for them, and their sails use all the winds. So the Danaan ships flock together at Aulis, a port holy to Artemis. There, a cliff overshadows the deep, its high ridge-line looming long over the furious waters of the Euboean Sea. The mountain-rambling goddess sees the Greek fleet, and the rocky promontory Caphereus lifts its head, and all around the foaming waters begin to bark. (Caphereus, meanwhile, knowing that one day many years to come this very fleet will crash against these rocks, holds its tongue.) In this place awaited the fate of Troy, in this place a vow to wage enormous war was made. But the Greeks acted patiently. First the confusèd assembly of ships gathered as one organized force under one king. Then they judged the entirety of their strength. Completing these two tasks took upwards of a year. So the circumambient net shuts-in the hidden beasts of the forest, and little by little the trap contracts around them. Their terror of fire flushes them out of the wilderness, and as they flee their shrinking habitat they find themselves trapped in a valley surrounded by flames. Here mingle the wild boar and the bear and the wolf, and the deer and the lions, and all, though they hate each other, have been tamed by their predicament. So the two sons of Atreus unite the people, and wage their war. Diomedes and Sthenelus were eager to outdo their fathers’ fame in combat. Antilochus felt confident in his youthful vigor. Ajax raised his seven-layered shield, seven hides of the best of the best, thick as a city wall. And all the while waiting alertly was Odysseus. But a movement was afoot, a common theme of common talk : “Where is Achilles?” It is Achilles’ name that everyone loves. Already everybody chooses Achilles to fight for them against Hector. Everyone agrees that Achilles must come if Priam and the Trojans are to be obliterated. It was Achilles who grew strong crawling in the sacred snows of Thessaly’s valleys. It were his native gifts, his early years that the wise Centaur shaped from birth. It was Achilles whose mother brought him down into the Styx to harden his body against blows of steel. Such was the common talk that rushèd through the ranks. “Without Achilles,” they said, “I guess we’re ripe for a beating.” So as the Olympians gathered in the sky over Troy and the Scamander—(and Achilles now risen by this time to the height of Ares’ spear)—and Athena potent in breast- plate of snakes, and Apollo bending his remarkable bow, and all of Nature standing erect with fear, all eyes looked to Zeus Thunderer, waiting for him to wield his storms and lightnings. What will Zeus Punisher demand of the forges of Etna? 12. While the two sons of Atreus deliberated among the military ranks on times for sailing and attack, Protesilaus angrily challenged the army’s prophet Calchas in a public argument. For Protesilaus was eager for war (while unaware he would win glory as the first to fall in combat). “O Son of Thestor” (he said) “you forget your powers! When will there be better occasion for Apollo to possess your mouth and uncover the secrets of Destiny? Do we not all hear the one word resounding from everybody’s mouths?—the one word Achilles? ‘Where is he?’ everyone asks. All of a sudden Diomedes is weak, and magnificent Ajax second-rate, and Little Ajax even littler! The only strength we have is Achilles? Well then let’s find him and put him to the test against Ares and Troy! Do we have a choice? The people ignore their leaders, and pray for him instead, as if he were himself a god of war! Speak out!—or why this wreath of prophetic office on your head, and all your honour? Where is he hiding? Tell us where on earth to go and get him! Rumour has it he no longer lives with Chiron the Centaur, nor is he back in his homeland with his father. So then? Storm the Olympian realm and seize the sneaky Fates! Inhale your fire in a rarest frenzy! We have left your hands empty of the two-edged sword, remember. At no time have you worn the helmet, and raised the spear, and met ferocious combat. Calchas, if you want to keep it that way, and justify these prophetic honours you wear, and bring fortune to yourself and to all of our leaders, you will exchange for your freedom the instruction of where in the world we shall find Achilles.” So the army prophet Calchas, his face draining of colour, his eyes rolling this way and that in anxiety, nodded to all the people sitting by him, and agreed to enter into the mysterium of the gods. He kindled a fire, then inhaled the incense-bearing smoke. His bloodshot eyes went inward, not seeing the army or the camp. Instead, he peered secretly, as through a peephole, at the Olympians in Heaven. At the same time his gaze deciphered the design of bird-flight, and came near to seeing (while the Three Sisters wove it) the cruel web of Fate. All the while black smoke arose from the altar, obscuring the air around him, and the tip of fire reached out to him, and his hair went stiff (almost pushing the wreath from his head). He held his neck in an uncommon manner; and suddenly the soothsayer looked unsteady on his feet. Then he began to speak, a low deep mumbling struggling out of his mouth : “Where” (he asked in madness) “o ingenious sea-goddess Thetis, is Achilles? Through tricks you have hidden great Chiron’s student from us! Why have you done this? Produce him at once! Bring him here! For we do not allow this! Achilles is ours! He is ours. Goddess, Apollo gives us strength, too. Say where you hide the man who shall overthrow Asia. I see you on the move, Thetis— worried, furtive among the Cyclades, looking for a shore to hide. Ah, child, we are ruined! The land of Lycomedes is your accomplice in your crime! Look! His body is covered in linen! Child, tear it away! Tear it away with your strength! No more submitting to mother! Ah, sad me, he goes away. Who is sadder than I? Who is that shameless, impious girl?” Here the exhausted prophet staggered by the altar and collapsed. Diomedes bent to Odysseus to say : “You and I should go, old friend; if you think me capable. For all we know the kid’s hiding down in some deep cave in the back of nowhere at the bottom of the sea. However, I would never doubt your mind. Wherever he is, Odysseus will get him here. I don’t need any prophet to tell me that one.” Smiling, Odysseus answered him : “May God Almighty prove you right. And warrior Athena—everyone knows she protects your father. But everything is slippery just now. Things change fast, so now I’m thinking slowly. Obviously it would be marvellous for us to bring Achilles in all his arms and armour into camp. But, so far, Fate isn’t on our side. Perhaps thinking how shamed we’d be if we returned without him is thinking ahead wrongly. It might be as dangerous as you say. She has Olympians on her side. But so do we—don’t we? What if we’re meant to find him? Then we won’t waste too much time in imagining our coming glory. But something else occurs to me. We'll bring the boy Achilles back—but only if this seer is worth anything himself.” So said Odysseus, and shrugged. Both warriors shrugged. But King Agamemnon urged them on, and at that the meeting ended. All the soldiers dispersed, happy to be headed to their tents, as at approach of night the birds fly in with food from pasture, as bee-goddess Hybla welcomes her swarms back to their caverns, and their fresh honey. So, with no time to lose, Odysseus raised sail and hoped for a friendly wind, while the rowers under his feet sat in amusement at the odd assignment. 14. Concealed, meanwhile, beneath the disguise of a young woman, Achilles deceived everyone, except for Deidamia, who came to know him as a man—indeed, intimately so. Now she herself had to conceal what she knew, too, and her love besides; and lived in endless agitation of being caught by her sisters. What happened was, when Achilles stood tall in the circle of girls after Thetis departed (leaving him to apply or put by his simulated modesty at will), the girl he chose as closest companion was Deidamia, though all the girls, in fact, eventually pressed their bodies against his, in that magic circle. With mild words the boy from the wilds meticulously pursued her, seizing her gaze at every chance, inviting her with his seductive eyes. Now he stands much too close to her (and she doesn’t avoid him), now playfully tosses flowers on her, now knocks fruit baskets over on purpose so they bend together to retrieve them, now he taps her—suggestively—with a magic Bacchic wand. Together they sat and he showed her each slender lyre string, producing sweet sounds recalling the songs of Chiron; then he guided her hand, and coaxed her fingers to pluck a tune from the resonating instrument. And then he embraced her and blessed her with a thousand kisses. Other times she listened : where is Mount Pelion? Who is Aeacus? Their constant talk bewitched her. One time Deidamia took up the lyre and sang of Achilles to his face. She also counselled him in demure body posture; and demonstrated to the boy how best to spin the raw wool, untangling the messes made with his innocent thumb. Throughout all this the sound of his voice always held her spellbound, and the authority of his weight on hers, and how he smartly stayed away from her friends; also the light of his eyes, and how he often took deep breaths while he spoke with her. Just as he readies to speak out his deceit, she slips from him and refuses to hear any confession. Thus, in this way, Rhea’s son Zeus, sovereign of Olympus, gave dangerous kisses to his untroubled sister Hera, who thought of him no more than a brother, until dignity of family gave way, and the sister feared his altered love. 15. At last, frightened Thetis’ deceit will be exposed—just not yet. There was a forest reaching high up into the open sky. In its shade went the sisters to celebrate the biannual festival to Bacchus, bearing dismembered parts of cattle, tree trunks dug out of the earth—all sorts of offerings to please the god in his visionary frenzy. By law, men must stay away. Old King Lycomedes reiterated the law : “Off-limits are the woods to all males!” And that wasn’t all. Standing at each boundary point was a fearsome priestess, there to catch any man straying unlawfully into the female camp. During all this Achilles laughed silently to himself, while he led the company of maidens in worship, waving his arms around all wrong (yet so becoming in the girls’ eyes). All the congregation marvels at him. No longer the most beautiful of them all is Deidamia. Achilles now surpasses her as much as she surpasses the others. So he wears the fawnskin on his well-knit body, and his head is garlanded with a wreath of purple flowers, and his hand holds the Bacchic thyrsus wreathed in ivy, and all the sisters stand before him with eyes devoted to his comely figure. Forgetting their prayers, all had lifted to him adoring faces. 16. Now the rosy moon was highest in the open-ended night; and Sleep, at his most passive, had his wings wrapped around the earth. The dance had left its space, the trumpet’s bronze pulse fallen silent. Achilles, alone awake among the rest, was lost in thought. “How much longer must I take this fakery from my mother? In the purest strength of my youth and I’m flinging around flowers? I want the arms of Ares in these hands, and hunt terrified beasts! Haemonia, where are your fields and rivers? Do you miss me, Sperchius, swimming in your waters? and leaving my cut hair in your honour? Or does no one care any more for what they call a deserter? Do people think I’m dead, and brought down to the shades of Hades? Does Chiron cry over my death? And my spears, and my bow, and my horses, reared for me—do you have use of these now, Patroclus? Meanwhile I hold a wand and I spin thread (how disgusting to hear myself confess this)! And I don’t even take that girl when I may, but keep my love secret for much of the time—a prisoner to my silence! I feel the heat flaming up in my heart! Day and night I burn! You shameful fool! Not even in love do you stand as a man!” Thus he said; then, making use of the dense shade of the forest silence, lay hard upon his conquest, possessing her with strength, and from his heart motivated by love wrapped her in many active embraces. From on high all the circling stars saw, and the crescent moon’s tips blushed red. And Deidamia’s cries filled wood and mountain truly and indeed. And all of this noise brought the sisters up out of their cloud of sleep, who thought the rites had begun again. Expecting themselves invited to dance, they raised a cry that filled the forest entire, and once more Achilles raised the magic wand and shook it in the sacred salute to Bacchus, and the sisters moved to and fro before him. Meanwhile let us hear what he spoke to Deidamia : “Why are you shaking? It’s all true. I’m Achilles. My mother’s a goddess, my father should have been Zeus. I’m the one who crawled up the snows of Thessaly. That first day there was no way I would have worn any of this if I hadn’t seen you on the beach. I did it to get close to you. I hold wool and shake tambourines for you. Why are you crying? You are now related to the sea. Why this blubbering? You shall conceive remarkable grandsons for the sky. Have no fear of your father; your Island Scyros will be torn to pieces and consumed in flames if your father answers our marriage with a death. My mother chose a peaceful life for me, but for now on I'm ready to reject all those hopes.” The princess, stupefied at such a monstrous situation (observing though at close hand, and trusting, yet long suspecting), shuddered now as she saw the changes happening in his face. What should she do now? Tell her father everything, and bring with her Achilles—who might suffer cruelly for all this? Would she want to worsen his pain? And the love she felt that had persisted through all the deception burned still in her heart. And so she suffered in silence, concealing the crime they shared between them. To one friend only, her Nurse, she confessed her secret, who helped the young lovers (how could she do otherwise?) and through crafty ways hid the girl’s growing womb until she was brought through to term and Lucina, goddess informer, set the secret free. 17. Now the ship of Odysseus skulks through the intricacy of the Aegean. The winds leave many islands behind him. Paros and Antiparos recede out of sight while he brushes past rugged Lemnos. Naxos shrinks as Samos grows larger. Now Delos darkens the mirrored surface of the sea. The cups are taken out to pray, and the prayers are answered. From the island’s high mountain bow-bearing Apollo stimulates the sailing air, and an easy wind bellies the canvas, and the ship sails on untroubled, an omen to all doubters— for in no way would Zeus allow Thetis to overturn the law of Fate. So the goddess is incensed with many salty tears that she is forbidden to destroy the man with winds and waves. For now all she can do to pursue Odysseus with evil eye. When the sun passed over the zenith and its rays fell gentler, then, just after noontime, Odysseus saw, rising ahead of him, the Island Scyros with its navigable harbour, and the sight promised rest. So he went to the stern and prepared the mooring-ropes, and ordered his sea-mates to speed up their oars. Island Scyros, then, mild land of Tritonia Athena, opened its shores. Heroes Odysseus and Diomedes stepped foot on land, saying a prayer to the kind deity of the island; then they prepared to move forward cautiously. Smartly Odysseus ordered most of his crew to stay behind; for the sudden sight of them all, he said, might incite a fright (or worse) in the people of the town. So off the two heroes went, scaling a steep incline to get to high ground, to spy out the place. They went as on a freezing winter’s night two wolves unite in search of food. Spurred by hunger, their own and their cubs’, they step quietly, both heads bowed low to the ground, and sneak by the watchdogs, whom at any moment might bark, and bring herdsmen afoot with weapons. In the same way, then, did Odysseus and Diomedes enter onto an open plain. They spoke together while keeping, best they could, off the beaten track; and first to speak was spirited Diomedes. “How” (Diomedes asked) do you expect to pinpoint the truth? What you’ve put into my hands is curious indeed, and I have no sense yet of your plans. You’d have me carry into town these tambourines and silly wands and Bacchic drums? And these deerskins decorated with spots of gold? And headbands? Your idea is to give Achilles destroyer of Troy—these? Slightly, then, Odysseus’ serious mien relaxed. “Hear me now” (he said) “All these, I promise, will be of use to us. Ensure they're in hand when the time is right and you’re summoned to me in Lycomedes’ palace. This should make you happy—bring also a shield, a beautiful carven one, and a spear. That’s not all. Bring the man Agyrtes with you. Tell him to bring his messenger trumpet with him—but hide it.” So Odysseus advised friend Diomedes, who nodded his head, mystified. As they approached the palace gates they saw the king standing there; so Odysseus held prominent before him a promise of peace, an olive branch. “Great words, I imagine” (he said) have come from all over for a long time now, common talk of war. Good king, it’s all true. Europe and Asia between them are set to shake the whole earth. If by any chance you have come to know the names of the commanders moving about at this time, this here is Diomedes, great-hearted Tydeus’ son. I’m Commander Odysseus. Let me tell you why I’m here. We’re all Greeks, and should share a common purpose of protecting ourselves. My friend and I have come to investigate the islands outside Troy, to see what each may be able to provide us.” Thus Odysseus, to which King Lycomedes answered kindly : “Oh my friends!” (he said) “May Fortune smile on your enterprise! For your prosperity I pray to all of the gods that hear me! Now you two shall be my guests, blessing my pious and loving home.” And so without delay an array of tables and couches were set out, as many servants set the palace in order for a feast. Meantime, while Odysseus was led through the house his rapid eyes scanned every room, every hallway, for any sign of the boy. He noted the height of every person he saw, and the manner of their clothing. While marvelling in awe at the palace architecture, Odysseus roamed down every colonnade and wandered into every gallery, just as a hunter, approaching confidently the lair of his quarry, stays calm and cool as he moves with his tiptoeing hound through the branches and leaves till they come to their enemy laid out on the ground asleep, and the hound shows its fangs. And so Rumour blazed quickly through the women’s quarters, and lit up the faces of all the girls. The island has taken in some Greek ship, with its crew and its two commanders! The sisters rose in awe (justly) and dread. Achilles himself could barely contain his excitement, so eager he was to see these heroes and their weaponry. And so then all the girls in a clatter burst into the Great Hall like Amazons returning triumphant from a raid over the Getae. Down they relaxed their limbs onto embroidered gold, all these chaste girls, while their father smiled on his pious daughters. During all this ferment Odysseus admired their faces and figures, and with his eyes took their measurements, for he was looking for anything curious among the bunch of red-faced virgins. But by now night had come, and lamps were brought in, (conveniently) obscuring the girls. Yet Odysseus saw one with burning cheeks and eyes riveted on him, and he turned to Diomedes to point that one out. What if at that moment Deidamia didn’t throw her arms round her couch-mate and press herself hard against him, obscuring his face and arms and shoulders in the folds of her gown? And she quickly slipped a new headband on his head and swept his hair back. Odysseus turned for a second look. He then decided to go away and enjoy the feast with King Lycomedes. So following the pleasures of the feast (placed twice then three times before the Achaeans), the king winefully addressed his guests : “How I envy you” (he said) “your great undertaking, honest Odysseus! Gods in Heaven! If only I had the strength of my youth back, when I crushed the Dolopians as they came up to the shores of Scyros. I vanquished them in the water. You may have seen signs of my old triumph on your way into port : some of their keels are still by the rocks, sticking up in the waves. Anyhow, if only I had sons to send with you to war! But you can see for yourself the strength of my many children. When will they give me a squadron of grandsons?” So spoke the king. And clever Odysseus stole softly into the moment : “Ah!” (he said) “show me a man who wishes to be scorned as weak! That is to say, what man doesn’t burn to play a part in war? —with its columns of innumerous soldiers, its noble leaders and its splendid kings? All together now the powers of mighty Europe have joined to lift the two-edged sword against its enemy. Fields and cities have been emptied of men while the sails of our ships spread out one colossal shadow over the sea. Fathers handed their weapons to their sons, and the sons took them, theirs for all time now. Never before has an army of such magnitude been assembled to promise most glorious fame to all men in battle showing bravery and excellence!” Odysseus sees them all ears around him, taking in his words eagerly (though a few girls, trembling in fear, have lowered their eyes). Now the clever Ithacan lays it on even thicker : “Whoever comes from a great family of noble ancestry, whoever has skill with horse and spear, whoever thinks he has superior power with the bow—all honour will be his, when he stands against the great names in battle! Even little mothers, even their girls, need restraint from rushing into fight! Ah!” (he went on) “any man is doomed to many useless years to come who lets this chance for glory pass him by unanswered. A man’s weakness and cowardliness are detested by the gods.” Achilles jumped up from his couch. But just then Deidamia and sisters enclosed him in a crush of bodies, and held him fast there, and together they fled in a bustle from the Hall, leaving Odysseus to watch them with a sparkle in his eye. So, then, the clever Ithacan concluded his theme, but for one last salvo : “Ah!” (continuing) “what paradise this place is! King, you live enthroned in blessed peace, arranging one marriage after another for your beloved daughters, whose faces are equal to the goddesses of the stars. How lucky it was I came here! The honesty of this palace touches my heart. And your daughters—their beauty strikes me with the force of soldiers.” And the father responded, “What if you saw them praying at midnight to Bacchus? Or surrounding Athena’s altar? If the weather holds out, I’ll show you these sights.” In answer Odysseus smiled, and hope added strength to his silent prayers. All around him the palace lay still. The night, as it turned out, was a long one for Odysseus. His avid mind raced while he waited for dawn. When rosy dawn arose, Diomedes and the trumpeter Agyrtes together came to Odysseus, carrying all the gifts he’d previously specified. While from the women’s chambers came the sisters of Scyros, who proceeded to show their dances to the honoured guests, and show them other sacred rites. Most prominent of all the dancers was brilliant princess Deidamia and her dearest friend, who (most all knew) was Peleus’ son. Now their dance steps followed the tones of a flute. Now the cymbals crashed—a sign for the chorus to turn round; then again—the crash, and the turn; and as one they raise the magic wands of Bacchus; and their steps multiply, and complicate; and the sisters show the style of the Curetes, then the Samothracians, then perform sophisticated Amazonian movements. Meanwhile, Achilles stands obvious. His turns are all wrong, he links arms awkwardly, he looks more than ever unhappy in his girl’s clothing. So as he moves he continuously disrupts the precision dancers, and his confusion is clear. Finally the company ceases to a burst of applause. The girls retire to their father’s Hall, where they discover a large table (set up by Diomedes) in the middle of the room, spread over with gifts as an appreciation from guests to hosts for their charity. Odysseus steps close and urges the girls to choose, and the good king gives his assent. (Ah! How the simple king had no suspicion of the trickiness of the Ithacan!) The girls, as their innocent nature guides them, takes up the elegant wands, and tests the drums, and binds their hair with the jewelled hairbands. As for the arms, they think them gifts for their great father, and give them no notice. But Achilles went wild inside when he came to the shield, admiring its shining engraving of hand-to-hand fighting (and seeing the spots of blood on it, signs of glorious war), and when he took the spear, well, he could hold himself no longer. He swayed on his feet, moaning through clenched teeth, and his hair stood up on his head. He forgot every word his mother had told him, forgot his secret lover—The one thought in his heart was Troy. He stared into his shining reflection in the shield, and he strengthened, and shuddered. Then Odysseus was there by his side. “I know you” (he said) “you’re the centaur Chiron’s student, the son of sea and sky. The Greek ships await you. Troy fears your very steps will make its city walls shake. Come now, Achilles! No more games! Let’s get out of here. Let Ida, Zeus’ mountain, look on fearful, let your father celebrate the news, and your mother lament her shameful fear! Let’s just get out of here!” By this time Odysseus was already tearing the feminine clothes from the boy’s body. Argytes, on command, blew his trumpet that echoed through the chambers of the palace, terrifying everyone. The girls scattered every which way, flinging the gifts aside and hiding behind their father, who thought the Trojan War had come to engage on Scyros. Meanwhile the garments slipped away from Achilles’ body. He raised spear and shield and suddenly surpassed in powerful size commanders Odysseus and Diomedes. The rage of his fire inside seemed to heat the whole palace, and all looked on amazed at his warlike presence. He stood at the heart of the trembling house, looking as if already begging to face cruel Hector. But in another part of the house Deidamia tore her clothes, and beat her breasts, and bewailed the trick discovered. Achilles heard her lament, and recognized her voice; and his shield lowered to his side. His fury cooled at his secret love. At these developments he stood thunderstruck—he saw himself naked, with lethal weaponry in hand. Then he looked at King Lycomedes and spoke out strong : “Esteemed king, father-in-law, my dear mother Thetis gave me to you. Dismiss all fears and doubts. A long time ago this glory awaited you—you shall send Achilles to Troy, and the world shall hear of it. And if it is proper to say so, I now love you as I love sweet Chiron, my kind parent. King, slow your heart awhile and hear my words. Inside of me is the blood of gods from both sides of my birth. From among your many innocents I desire one daughter. Do you permit this? Or do you judge my blood inferior to yours? Do you seek to refuse the will of the gods? Or will you take our hands and seal the alliance, and pardon both child and guest? Already in silence and secrecy I have known Deidamia. How could her great beauty not bewitch me? Embraced in my powerful arms how could she resist my strength? King, father-in-law, why this long face? Why this look of suspicion? Rather show us the kind face of the granddad.” And Achilles laid the baby at the king’s feet. And he added : “We’re all Greeks. We’re all on the same side now.” But as Achilles finished his speech the king broke out in a hubbub and required restraint from the arms of the Greek guests. In his one ear Diomedes spoke of Zeus’s kindness toward hosts, while in the other, friend Odysseus whispered motivating words no one else heard. Exercised though the king was at his daughter’s indiscretion, and the trickery of Thetis’ son, and the trickery of Thetis herself, whom he had always trusted—still and all Lycomedes stood in fear of thwarting so many destinies, and obstructing the Trojan War. And for Deidamia Achilles would have tricked his mother, just as he had tricked him. And after all why wouldn’t the king want to attach himself to such a distinguished family? Lycomedes accepts. Deidamia tiptoes out from her hiding-spot, covered in shame. In her terror she is unable to understand all has been made well, and she shoves her lover to her father, as if seeking approval to love the mighty Achilles. 18. Word is sent to Thessaly, to inform father Peleus of these great doings, and to ask for warriors and seaships. Meanwhile King Lycomedes donates two ships of his own for the war, apologizing to the Greeks for his scant strength. Then they all enjoyed a day of feasting until nighttime came, and the two lovers united without fear of being caught. Glimmering in her eyes were new wars and Xanthus and Ida and all the Greek ships. She reflected on the waves of the sea and feared auroral dawn. She clasped an arm round her new husband’s neck. Then she embraced his body and let all her tears flow free. “Look at me, my love” (she said) “Will you ever again rest your head on my breasts? Will you ever think me worthy of babies again? Or will I be forgotten while you ransack homes of Trojans, and take away their girls as slaves? Will you forget this bed? I don’t know what to say first, I don’t know what to think first. How can I find words for you when this is all the time we’ll have together? This one taste of marriage. This one single night. The stolen sweets are all gone now. They were given, and taken away. Go! Who am I to have a say in such monumental things? Go! But take care, Achilles : the goddess’ fears may be real. Go—but promise a happy return. Return to your faithful wife. My hopes are too huge, aren’t they? I imagine all those Trojan girls bending their heads for your necklaces of silver and gold, and forgetting their homeland for your nighttime couch. Will you remember me? (Why would you speak of me to those girls? Unless you tell the story of young Achilles lifting wands on Island Scyros.) My Achilles! Why not take me with you? Why should I not fight beside you? You stood by me spinning wool, and joined in the dance to Bacchus (none of this Troy will believe)! Promise me one single thing, my husband for all time : this boy shall be your only child—our child : Neoptolemus.” And so on and so forth. He consoles her, vows fidelity, swears never to touch a female slave, promises treasures beyond measure from the sumptuous city of Troy, once destroyed. And his final loving words are taken away on the wind. The End of Statius, The Achilleid. 22 June 2023 – 26 July 2023

Seneca In Trojan Women 3.1, Odysseus enters the play. He comes to Andromache and deploys against her an onslaught of words. The dialogic interplay continues for 300 lines. (3.1 is equivalent in suspense to Annie and Author in Pre-Op?!) As introduction, Odysseus unfurls an extended speech that exhibits his smarts and rhetorical control : ODYSSEUS. As a minister of hard fate I ask this first : that of the words that come out of my mouth, do not credit them to me. It is the voice of the assembly of Greek kings, who hope to return home finally after all these years, if not for Hector's son. Let Fate come. Whoo. That last line arrives like a punctuation point. With the three-word line Odysseus changes rhetorical gears, slyly nonchalant, conveying in gentlest manner a most horrific Situation : Andromache, he says, hand your child over to me for murder. Hanc fata expetunt. In between bright poles of rhetoric, it is an offhand, dark prompt, a gentlest browbeating, a manipulative gambit. Scrooby can imagine the three-word line being whispered like a sweet nothing in a romance. Indeed—Odysseus is appealing to Andromache's heartstrings, seeking sympathy for his sorry task. "Don't blame me," he says. "I'm just following orders." Is this a reasonable request for Odysseus to ask of Andromache? The executioner asks forgiveness of his victim? ¶ Odysseus persists in a confident manner : The Greeks will be tormented with anxiety, and will face the future with uncertain trust, always looking over their shoulders with fear, and not given leave to put down their arms, as long as your son gives hope to the defeated Trojans, Andromache. All this may be so. At face value his explanation is reasonable. The child must die so the Greeks can stop looking over their shoulders. But why tell her this? ¶ We may theorise that Odysseus is hiding behind the pretence of Reason to carry out his sorry task. ¶ At any rate Andromache is skeptical of her conqueror's posturing : ANDROMACHE. This is what your prophet Calchas sings? ODYSSEUS. And even if the prophet were silent, Hector has already spoken on this; so I fear a child of his. A son of noble birth rises up strong in what's his. In this way the ash of an abandoned fire resumes strength and burns large. True, pain is no impartial judge of things; but if you think about it, after ten long summers and ten long winters, the soldiers, no longer young, want to lie still, and not be tormented with thoughts of further war, or troubling thoughts of a future Hector. Free Greece of fear. Whoo! Libera Graios metu. Again the deployment of the three-word line, a strategic burst of pithy & manipulative humanness. Odysseus then pulls back from the intimate and restores the official story : Our naval ships are diverted, unable to maintain straight course on the waters, and our whole army lingers here, for this one cause. He seeks to persuade her by using arguments meant to persuade a Greek. Then, for reasons of his own, he marks his position straight out : Do not think me cruel because fate appointed me to come for the child of Hector and take him away. In all these words thus far, is Odysseus saying he is doing her and everyone a favour by taking away the child to be murdered? A far-out opening to Act 3. We're twenty lines in.

Character. Polixene, a tragedy by Antoine de la Fosse, premiered on the French stage on 3 February 1696. The scene is the night of the fall of the city of Troy, and the victorious Greeks are dividing up the spoils of war. The Greek army’s prophet Calchas has read the oracles and relates the news : the young woman Polixene, daughter of defeated Troy's king and queen, is to be sacrificed on the altar as an appreciation to the gods, who are presently sending adverse winds that hinder the Greek fleet from departing the battlefield. Only with her death will the Greek army find plain sailing onward towards home. ¶ A much earlier play that covers this Situation is Seneca, Trojan Women (1st century AD). ¶ De la Fosse’s Polixene is a strong woman, a heroic woman. She taunts her would-be murderer : Tiens, fais une victime, et non pas une esclave. / “Do it; make me a victim, and not a slave.” ¶ In the play Odysseus appears as just as strong a personality. His character in the play exemplifies his reputation throughout the history of Europe as founded in THE ODYSSEY : he is coolly intelligent; a virtuoso of pointed questions; deft in clever strategising; a master of politics, of its sudden changes and subtleties. In the French play Odysseus is exclusively Mind, for there is no physical action in Polixene; much of the dialogic interplay involves kings speaking together in rooms. The mind of Odysseus cuts through to essences, delivering the fruit of painstaking thinking in knowing pronunciamentos. He may speak and act in what he admits are “secret detours” (Je ne viens point, par des détours secrets). Just as in Homer, Odysseus is patriotic and a staunch defender of the State. (L’intérêtdu pays me touche uniquement. / “The interests of my country are my sole concern.”) And just as in Seneca, Odysseus supports the bloody sacrifice of Polixene. “Voulez-vous d’un ami croire l’avis sincere?” he says. “Are you prepared to trust the sincere advice of a friend?”—and he goes on to promote violent reprisal on the enemy. Here, Odysseus, just as in THE ODYSSEY, is warlike, and an unemotional celebrator of vengeance. (Et plus nous grossissons le bruit de ses disgraces; Par là notre vengeance éclate d’autant plus. / “The more we magnify the noise of his disgraces, by this our vengeance shall burst forth all the more.” ¶ Odysseus the fine public speaker. The play presents Odysseus in his most celebrated light (cf. Ovid and Shakespeare)—Je viens, au nom de tous, m’adresser à vous-même. / “I come, in the name of all, to address myself to you.” The speaker is confident to the point of taunting his audience : C’est peu de mes discours, pour ébranler votre ame. Les effets vous pourront convaincre. / “My words do little to move your soul. [But] The effects will convince you.” ¶ Also (what in other contexts might be heard as grandiose thinking) : D’où dépend ou la perte, ou le salut de tous. / “On this (my speech) depends either the loss of all, or the salvation.” ¶ So clever is Odysseus during his speechifying that he deploys a Henry James Positive-Negative statement : Non, non, trop d’embarras suivroient notre victoire. / “No, no, many embarrassments would follow our victory.” ¶ The sharp-minded Ithacan often speaks in Seneca-like aphorisms : Qu’en protégeant le crime, ils ont part à la peine / “They who would protect a crime [must] share in the punishment”. Also : Pour remplir un devoir qui fait trembler d’effroi, Un coeur n’est point si libre et si maître de soi. / “Fulfilling a duty that fills you with fear means your heart is not so free and master of itself.” ¶ At the end, in Act 5, Odysseus expresses a sentiment close to his heart in all of his iterations from THE ODYSSEY onward : “O courage!” ¶ In his last words of the play, Odysseus πολύμητις is wise enough to see the future, and is prepared to act accordingly—thereby leaping ahead of the audience on his way out : Quel orage , grands Dieux ! quels troubles je prévois! Quoi qu’il en soit, allons, faisons ce que je dois. / “Great Heavens! What a storm! What trouble I foresee! Come what may, let me do what I must.” ¶ Seneca, as we shall see, goes one better in abject horror. It is not nearly enough for Polyxena to die. Also unsafe must be the King and Queen’s grandchild, the young Astyanax, just a little boy. To please the gods, he is to be tossed off the ruined city’s high tower. The good Odysseus will help make that happen. Odysseus, the good soldier.