Why should I dance for Athena? Pyrrhic dance and the choral world of Plato's "Laws"

THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO

WHY SHOULD I DANCE FOR ATHENA? PYRRHIC DANCE AND THE CHORAL WORLD OF PLATO’S LAWS

A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO THE FACULTY OF THE DIVISION OF THE HUMANITIES IN CANDIDACY FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

DEPARTMENT OF CLASSICAL LANGUAGES AND LITERATURES

BY FRANCES L. SPALTRO

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS AUGUST 2011

UMI Number: 3472957

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© Copyright by Frances L. Spaltro 2011 All Rights Reserved

In memory of my parents, Jim and Mavis Spaltro and dancer and teacher, Alicia Pierce

Abstract This dissertation examines the formative role of dance and movement in the Laws, Plato’s last work. In the dialogue three elderly gentlemen from Crete, Sparta and Athens meet on a pilgrimage to a sanctuary of Zeus on Crete. To pass the time they contemplate the sort of institutions a lawgiver should establish to create a city whose citizens live virtuously, happily, and in peace with one another. Since the laws of music and the laws of the state are so intimately connected, the institution central to the pilgrims’ fictional city is choreia, singing and dancing. In this city, called Magnesia, choral activity is continuous and inclusive: all citizens – children, men, and women – constantly engage in the serious play of singing and dancing for the gods. This dissertation will argue that the prominence of dance in Magnesia is contingent upon Plato’s theory of movement as an ethical force: the motions of the body determine the motions of the soul, and vice versa. Consequently, dance becomes the lawgiver’s primary tool for training as many citizens as possible in the physical and psychic motions that can lead to virtue. Yet since dance alone cannot create full virtue, Plato envisions a state in which the entire citizenry moves with measure and rhythm, encouraged by the city’s design. Integrating choreia, politics, and city design, Plato effects a unified motional endeavor whose model is the circular and constant motion of the universe and the divine. I begin and end with the pyrrhic weapon dance, the only dance in the Laws which Plato fully develops. This is intentional; we are meant to notice his pyrrhic, which is set in ideological contrast to its historical Athenian counterpart. Plato’s pyrrhic, as a corrective to Athenian choral and religious practices and a paradigm for ethically sound chorality, permits us entry into Magnesia’s choral landscape, Plato’s choral psychology, his theories of motion, godlikeness, and civic virtue, as well as his final formulations on how the non-philosopher might become as virtuous as possible. iv

Acknowledgements Before I came to the University of Chicago and Plato’s Laws, dance had become a centralizing force in my life, particularly during my study of African-Haitian dance with Alicia Pierce of San Francisco State University. Alicia, a master-teacher of Dunham Technique, would often say that dance teaches us “to see the thing behind the thing.” She was speaking of dance’s capacity to transcend physical experience and understanding; under her guidance I first began to know and appreciate the transformational potential of dance. I would not be who I am now, nor would this dissertation have ever been conceived without Alicia Pierce, an extraordinary dancer, thinker, and mentor. My interest in ancient Greek dance was a natural merger of my training in dance and classics, and from my first days at the University of Chicago I found such intellectual support for these interests as anyone could wish for. For their early guidance, I thank Peter White, Laura Slatkin, Gloria Pinney, and particularly Chris Faraone, who spent a whole summer reading Lucian’s treatise on dance with me. I thank also the Ryerson Committee, whose financial support gave me the opportunity to work with the relevant collections in Athens in 2006. I extend my deepest gratitude to Jonathan Hall (then chair) and the Classics Faculty at the University of Chicago for their compassion and understanding during a difficult time. Individually and as a faculty, they are among the finest people one could hope to know. For my dissertation committee, there is no expression of gratitude that would be sufficient. Chris Faraone provided constant support from the earliest stages of my research on ancient Greek performance. As initially proposed, this project was far more historical than philosophical in nature. When it evolved into a study of Plato’s Laws, Jonathan Hall, historian by

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nature and training, remained committed to the project nonetheless - an act of real heroism for someone compelled to read about Plato’s last and difficult dialogue. I could never have predicted that Plato would play so prominent a role in this dissertation. Yet when the detour became the journey, it was only with the careful and energetic guidance of my committee chair, Liz Asmis, that I found my way. Her dedication and intellectual excitement for the project resulted in countless lively conversations that helped me to envision and frame my argument. I owe what is good about this dissertation to her. I have enjoyed the support and steadfast friendship of so many others along this journey, and in this small space I can mention only a few: Kathy Fox, from day one; the Faraone family, for being my family here in Chicago; my colleagues and friends at the Franke Institute for the Humanities and the University of Chicago Laboratory Schools, for their unceasing encouragement; Mike and Ralph, for Sunday evening conversazioni; Janet, for so many things, not least of all the introduction to Nuala O’Faolain; Bill, for teaching me a deep appreciation of the city of Chicago; Teresa, for the laughter and spirituality; Mai, for your courage and grace; Emmanuelle, Atiya and Rachel, my stalwart dissertation writing group; Elizabeth, for always hitting the ground running with me; Alex, for the integrity and care you bring to all your friendships, and for going halves with me on Scholia Platonica. It is your turn with it now. Finally, I wish to thank my family for their love and encouragement throughout the years, and especially for keeping me anchored in what is truly important in life.

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Table of Contents Abstract

iv

Acknowledgements

v

Chapter One/Introduction: Why Should I Dance for Athena?

1

A. Problem, Questions, and Aims B. Plan and Method

1 10

Chapter Two: Dancing for Athena in Athens: Pyrrhichē and Panathenaia

24

Introduction

24

A. The Panathenaia B. The Tribal Events C. The Pyrrhichē D. Athena as Pyrrhicist

26 42 46 53

Conclusions

60

Chapter Three: Dancing for the Gods in Magnesia: Pyrrhichē and Emmeleia

64

Introduction

64

Part One: The Laws’ Choral Taxonomy A. The Spoudaion Class: Dances of War and Peace B. The Phaulon Class: Dances of Comedy and Tragedy C. The Ecstatic Dances Conclusion to Part One

68 71 74 83 86

Part Two: Dancing in Magnesia A. The Pyrrhichē B. The Emmeleia C. Magnesian Comedy and Tragedy

90 90 102 116

Conclusions

118 vii

Chapter Four: Choreia, Paideia, and the Choral Psychology of the Laws

122

Introduction

122

Part One: Paideia and Choreia

125

Part Two: Plato’s Choral Psychology

149

Conclusions

159

Chapter Five: Moving Like God, Being Like God: the Choral Teleology of Magnesia

164

Introduction

164

Part One: Philia as Care of the Soul and of Others

172

Part Two: Circular City Design

184

Conclusion: The City as Chorus

202

Conclusions

210

Epilogue

218

Bibliography

225

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1 Introduction: Why Should I Dance for Athena? A. Problem, Questions, and Aims In Book Seven of Plato's Laws three elderly pilgrims and incidental companions, Cleinias the Cretan, Megillus of Sparta, and an unnamed Athenian, contemplate the curriculum for the fictional colony they have been constructing to pass the time on their journey to Zeus’s sanctuary on Cretan Ida. Formal lessons will fall into two categories, gymnastikē for the body and mousikē for the soul (7.795d6-9).1 The Athenian guides the conversation toward gymnastic education and decides it falls into two sub-categories, wrestling and dance (795d9-e1), both of which are then divided into two kinds of lessons (795e2-796b3).2 While the interlocutors quickly dispense with the topic of wrestling, they soon again find themselves on the subject of dance, which has already occupied a fair portion of their conversation. Now they turn their attention from the nature of dance education to the nature of dance itself (orchēsis). The Athenian Stranger proposes they understand dance as comprising two mimetic classes, one class imitating the movements of nobly engaged people who are fair in form, the

1

This is compatible with the traditional Greek curricular formulation, with grammata, the study of letters, becoming part of the curriculum in the sixth century. See Marrou (1956) 41-44; Morrow (1960) 318-321, 331-332. See also Republic 376e, where gymnastic is considered training for the body and music for the soul; but 410c, where it is agreed that both train the soul. 2

The Athenian pursues the topic of wrestling only so far as to praise upright wrestling, since it most closely approximates real combat and can teach skills useful in real combat, and to denounce the popular habit of wrestling on the ground, which does not teach anything useful (795e8-796a7). I will examine the formal lessons in dance below in Chapter Four.

1

other imitating the movements of people ugly in form and in action (814e 1-5).3 Revealing a penchant for binary classification, he further divides the first, nobler class of dance into two types: the dance of peace and the dance of war. The former represents temperate people enjoying the pleasures prosperity brings, while the latter represents courageous people in the throes of combat (814e5-815). He lingers on the dance of war, continuing: τὴν πολεμικὴν δὴ τούτων, ἄλλην οὖσαν τῆς εἰρηνικῆς, πυρρίχην ἄν τις ὀρθῶς προσαγορεύοι, τάς τε εὐλαβείας πασῶν πληγῶν καὶ βολῶν ἐκνεύσεσι καὶ ὑπείξει πάσῃ καὶ ἐκπηδήσεσιν ἐν ὕψει καὶ σὺν ταπεινώσει μιμουμένην, καὶ τὰς ταύταις ἐναντίας, τὰς ἐπὶ τὰ δραστικὰ φερομένας αὖ σχήματα, ἔν τε ταῖς τῶν τόξων βολαῖς καὶ ἀκοντίων καὶ πασῶν πληγῶν μιμήματα ἐπιχειρούσας μιμεῖσθαι· τό τε ὀρθὸν ἐν τούτοις καὶ τὸ εὔτονον, τῶν ἀγαθῶν σωμάτων καὶ ψυχῶν ὁπόταν γίγνηται μίμημα, εὐθυφερὲς ὡς τὸ πολὺ τῶν τοῦ σώματος μελῶν γιγνόμενον, ὀρθὸν μὲν τὸ τοιοῦτον, τὸ δὲ τούτοις τοὐναντίον οὐκ ὀρθὸν ἀποδεχόμενον. . . . of these, the dance of war, since it differs essentially from the dance of peace, one should properly call the pyrrhichē. It represents, on the one hand, attempts to avoid all sorts of blows and strikes by means of slips, all types of feints, high leaps and low crouches, and on the other hand, the opposite figures adopted for offensive movements, which attempt to represent the shooting of arrows, javelins and all sorts of strikes. When, in these movements, there is likeness of fair bodies and souls, as well correct posture and tension, with the body’s limbs for the most part in alignment – then such a thing is correct. But when the opposite happens, it is not accepted as correct (815ab).4 The vivid martial choreography described here constitutes the fullest classical literary description of an ancient Greek weapon dance, and one of only four, at that.5 Because the Athenian Stranger

3

The Greek is τὴν μὲν τῶν καλλιόνων σωμάτων ἐπὶ τὸ σεμνὸν μιμουμένην, τὴν δὲ τῶν αἰσχιόνων ἐπὶ τὸ φαῦλον. Here I follow England, vol. 2 (1921) 300, who suggests an understood κίνησιν (movement). 4

Translation is my own. As both England (1921) 301 and Saunders (1970) 307 n37, have suggested, the sense of the passage is clearer than the grammar. This passage will be explored fully in Chapter Three. 5

The other three are found in Xenophon Anabasis 6.1 which describes different regional weapon dances in a day of entertainment for the troops; in Euripides Andromache 1132-1136 the messenger recounts Orestes’ “wicked pyrrhichs” during his last stand at Delphi; in Aristophanes Clouds 988-989 Just Speech laments the younger generation’s lack of endurance, since they cannot perform the whole pyrrhichē with their shields held high, but rather let their shield arms down.

2

insists that the correct name for this dance is pyrrhichē, this passage is generally presumed an actual description of the historical Athenian weapon dance, also called the pyrrhichē, which was performed in the most important festival for Athena in Athens, the Panathenaia. Given the paucity of literary descriptions for the Athenian weapon dance (indeed, all Greek weapon dances), the temptation to identify this pyrrhichē in the Laws as the Athenian weapon dance is understandable. However, it is mistaken. The visual and literary evidence for the Athenian pyrrhic dance shows conclusively that the dance Plato describes here in the Laws cannot possibly be the historical Athenian dance. The offensive weapon constitutes the central case in point. The dancer in the Laws passage either uses or imitates the use of every kind of offensive weapon (daggers, arrows, knives, swords, and spears), when historically weapon dances entailed the use of only one offensive weapon, and in the Athenian case that weapon was the spear. 6 Yet commentators typically assume that the pyrrhichē of the Laws and the pyrrhichē of Athens are the same weapon dance, and it has become standard practice to cite this passage automatically and uncritically as evidence for what the Athenian weapon dance looked like.7 This confusion has perpetuated a misunderstanding of the Athenian pyrrhichē’s choreographic elements, a mistake easily remedied once commentators acknowledge the distinction between the dances and discontinue using the passage as a descriptive tool for the Athenian dance.

6

See especially Downes (1904) 101-103, who reviews the literary evidence for the Athenian pyrrhichē and Poursat, (1968) 566 -567. Both argue emphatically that the pyrrhichē described in the Laws passage is not the Athenian pyrrhichē, but seems most likely an amalgam of weapon dances. On the use of only a single offensive weapon, see Wheeler (1982) 231-232. 7

For a sampling, see Latte (1913) 33; Lawler (1964) 108; Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 468; Ceccarelli (1998) 24; Fisher (1998) 90-92; Wilson (2000) 36-39; Scarpi (1979) 81, 89.

3

Yet even more interesting implications present themselves when we push the distinction and repatriate the pyrrhic of the Laws into its proper context. We are now confronted with two distinct pyrrhic dances: the historical pyrrhichē of Panathenaic fame and what I henceforth refer to as “Plato’s pyrrhic” or the “Magnesian pyrrhic.”8 The existence of a distinctly Platonic or Magnesian pyrrhichē compels us to ask new questions of the Laws’ pyrrhic passage and of the dialogue itself. First, if this is not the Athenian pyrrhichē described here (or any other identifiable weapon dance of the ancient world), then just what is this weapon dance, and what is it doing in the Laws? The passage has been interpreted not only as an unfavorable allusion to innovation in contemporary Athenian musical practices in general, but also as an especially pointed criticism of contemporary pyrrhichē performances in the Panathenaic festivals.9 The text certainly supports such a reading, particularly in its emphasis on what the dance ought to be called and how it ought to be danced - and how it ought not to be danced. Yet if the Magnesian pyrrhic does indeed constitute such a corrective or prescriptive, then we must admit that although the two dances are distinct, they are also for Plato’s purposes connected. The historical pyrrhic provides a frame of reference, while its Platonic counterpart offers a critical assessment and alternative. This prompts us to inquire further into the nature of this choral connection, to ask why Plato draws our attention to the Athenian pyrrhic by fashioning his own ideal pyrrhic in the Laws, and to contemplate the implications of this choice. There were other dance forms prominent on the Athenian choral landscape, most notably the tragic and dithyrambic choruses, but neither is afforded any real attention by the Athenian

8

After the “city of the Magnetes,” so referred to at 8.848d4; 11.806e7-8; 919d4; 12.946b7; 969a6-7.

9

Morrow (1960) 361-362. Also see Downes (1904) 101 and Borthwick (1970) 318-319; on Plato’s views of innovation and deterioration in canonical musical forms, see Laws 660a, 700f, 802c, 816c; Republic 424b-425a; Gorgias 501b.

4

Stranger and his traveling companions. Why does Plato focus their attention on the pyrrhichē? In this dissertation I proceed from these very questions about the nature and purpose of Plato’s pyrrhichē. My inquiry, however, will not remain with the pyrrhichē, but will expand its focus from this fictional weapon dance to include the choral world and philosophy of Plato’s idea city, Magnesia. Indeed, I will argue below that Plato fashions his pyrrhichē not only as a distinctly Magnesian choral form in direct ideological contrast to its Athenian counterpart, but also as a key to the rest of the choral landscape of his fictional city in the Laws. In Book Eight, the Athenian Stranger suggests to his traveling companions that the fictional colony they are imagining should have no fewer than three hundred and sixty-five holy days a year; in this way, says the Athenian, someone is sacrificing to the gods at all times (8.828a8-b4). Continual communion with the gods, and all that entails – processions, prayers, sacrifice, feasting, singing hymns and dancing – is explicitly made the staple of existence in the Laws’ fictional state (4.717d3-e2), with particular focus throughout the dialogue on the singing and dancing component of religious observance, i.e., choreia.10 Choreia, the combination of singing and dancing, lies at the heart of Magnesia, which has been described by Barbara Kowalzig as a “choral kosmos,” and rightly so: correct singing and dancing amounts to correct worship and propitiation, and Plato fashions a world focused on correct chorality.11 The citizens

10

Choreia should also be understood as a component of mousikē which can technically mean any art of the Muses, but often encompasses all of choric performance: Cf. Alcibiades I 108c5-d2; Socrates asks Alcibiades what the combined art of playing the kithara (to kitharizein), singing (to aidein) and dancing (to embainein – literally, stepping) is called; Alcibiades’ response is mousikē. Still, it quite often refers to poetic and musical composition, apart from choreography (Pindar Olympian 1.15; Herodotus 6.129; Plato Symposium 196c). 11

Kowalzig (2004) 39-65; this also ensures the welfare of the state. Morrow (1960) 336-337 recognizes the importance of dance in the Laws, as well as the dialogue’s implied critique of innovation in canonical musical forms in Athens, particularly in contemporary pyrrhichē performances.

5

and city engage in daily and continuous religious activity that naturally involves singing and dancing for the gods. Moreover, these songs and dances, inasmuch as they preserve the proper configurations of worship, will also preserve the generic distinctions so important to Plato, who frames this choral kosmos as a corrective to Athenian choral and religious culture.12 Athenian musical culture is described emphatically in Book Three as disassociated from religious and civic concerns, suffering from generic disorder, and a fundamental cause of political and generational disharmony (3.700a7-701d4).13 Indeed, Kowalzig observes that the choral world of Magnesia expresses what the dysfunctional Athenian choral world did not, and this extends from music to religion and to civic life.14 Precisely how Magnesia’s choral world constitutes a corrective, namely, on what principles it is designed and constructed so that choral performance remains rooted in religious and civic concerns, serving to maintain musical, religious, and political order, is a central concern to the Laws and to this dissertation; yet it has been largely neglected, the subject of only one study to date. Marcus Folch, in a study of genre and gender in state sanctioned musical performance in the Laws, demonstrates that Plato constructs the musical genres of Magnesia by refashioning inherited musical forms, not strictly in terms of their formal features, but rather in their occasions of performance. 15 Working from the studies of Nagy and Most, Folch articulates Plato’s 12

Kowalzig (2004) 54.

13

Morrow (1960) 276 suggests this in the particular case of the pyrrhichē dance; see also Kowalzig (2004) 45.

14

Kowalzig (2004) 47.

15

Folch (2006) 24-28 is the first to examine the musical culture of the Laws using the genre studies model of “occasions of performance,” and to address the poetic revision and evaluation process explicitly called for in the text (802b1-6; 809b4-c5; 812b10-c6).

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understanding of genre as a social phenomenon fluidly defined by its occasions of performance, that is, all the contingent elements that lend social and ideological significance to any performance act: participants, gender, age, audience, space, season, associated deity, as well as the formal elements. 16 Folch argues persuasively that Plato’s understanding of performance and genre as occasion, though discernible in earlier dialogues, is nowhere more prominent than in the Laws, where all performance is state produced and sanctioned; furthermore, Plato recognizes that the potential of choral performance for the negotiation of civic identity lies in its occasions of performance. It is precisely those occasions that Plato identifies, disassembles, and refashions as he seeks to construct a generically, philosophically and politically sound choral culture in Magnesia.17 Although the Laws is deeply invested in producing a culture in which singing and dancing are central to Magnesian life, it is stubbornly vague when it comes to the details of choral performance, the pyrrhichē excepted. Nonetheless, the text holds up to the scrutiny of the “genre as occasion” paradigm exceptionally well, for although it does not offer many formal details of musical performance, it clearly establishes the configurations of musical laws according to which music and poetry must be composed. It these laws for the composition of the song component of choreia on which Folch focuses, producing a study both insightful in its method and convincing in its argument. However, the study almost entirely overlooks the dance 16

Nagy (1990) 43-59, esp. 43-45 and (1994-1995) 11-25; Nagy proceeds from the work of Austin and Todorov on the enunciatory context of the speech act as what gives the act itself significance. Locating genre in the moment of performance and its determining context, he finds that genre is these “occasions of performance,” what he further describes as the “set of rules within a community that generates a given [performance].” Crucial to Nagy’s argument, and to Plato’s program in the Laws, is mimēsis, which Nagy believes cannot be understood apart from genre, or vice versa. This will be explored further below. 17

Folch further shows that, for Plato, redefining the occasions of musical performance is tantamount to redefining the notion and act of citizenship. Cf. Selden (1994) 39-64, who observes: “it comes as no surprise, then, that a formal theory of literary genres first emerged as part of political philosophy.”

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component (orchēsis) of choreia, although Plato is just as invested in establishing the configurations appropriate for dance as he is for song and poetry. Furthermore, in passing over dance in Magnesia, Folch’s study passes over the Magnesian pyrrhichē which, as the only fully developed choral form, provides some of the strongest support for his argument that for Plato, all the social, political and artistic distinctions of genre reside in the occasions of performance.18 Folch is not alone in overlooking the Magnesian pyrrhic. Although commentators on the Laws acknowledge Plato’s special interest in the weapon dance, his singular attention to this dance has gone unquestioned and unexplored.19 Consequently, we have been left with a partial and unsatisfactory picture of the Magnesian pyrrhichē, and this has diminished our appreciation of the Laws and its choral program. Since this pyrrhichē is the only choral form in the Laws presented as fully developed in its occasions of performance, it has much to tell us about Plato’s choral choices for Magnesia and the directives informing those choices. Plato sets forth the Magnesian pyrrhichē’s occasions of performance precisely, so that we can understand it not only as a prescriptive, fictional construct, but also a paradigm for a philosophically sound choral genre.20 For example, as the only dance performed by both genders and all young citizens daily,

18

Folch (2006) 240-244. Folch gives a scant four pages to the pyrrhichē in order to show gender parity in learning the armed dance. It seems almost an afterthought, but this may be because the pyrrhichē is a choral form without song and, therefore, text, and Folch focuses heavily on the text of prayers and hymns. 19

Morrow (1960) 337; 359-361 has observed the pyrrhichē’s central role in Magnesia, calling it “one of the chief ornaments of the festivals in Plato’s state, as it was at Athens,” noting its prevalence in both the real and fictional cities and acknowledging Plato’s special interest in the pyrrhichē. On the central place of the pyrrhichē in the Panathenaia, see also Ceccarelli (2004) 94. Kowalzig (2004) 44-49 observes that ritual is the primary occasion, or determinant, for performance in the Laws and that Magnesia is a religious state, so that the choral and political life of its citizens is regulated by the religious calendar. For Kowalzig, generic distinctions in the dialogue are religious in nature, as well as a commentary on what she calls the “choral dysfunction” of contemporary Athens. For Folch (2006) 89, they are also social and political concerns; Folch identifies, within the ritual context, a correlation between genre and political ideology, in fact, a discourse of citizenship. Scarpi (1979) 89 recognizes a pedagogical purpose but links it solely to military training, as in Sparta. 20

Morrow (1960) 274; Folch (2006) 240-244.

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the Magnesian pyrrhichē offers an alternative conceptualization of worship, performance, and citizenship, which now includes women and all property classes. Additionally, as the only dance whose occasions of performance are fully articulated, the Magnesian pyrrhichē serves as an instructional model for future lawgivers and guardians, fictional and historical. In short, Plato intends his pyrrhichē to be noticed and to be of significance to readers of the Laws. Yet there are even broader, more compelling implications. Plato’s pyrrhichē, in all its psychological and political contingencies, admits us into a far more complex cultural and choral landscape than has been appreciated. Indeed, this weapon dance, which is central to the Magnesian’s experience, serves as gateway to an elaborately structured choral system that includes a formal taxonomy and is governed by a philosophy of movement that extends beyond choral performance to all movement, including the movements of the soul, and extends even to the city’s design. Furthermore, this philosophy of movement establishes an abiding connection between ordered movement and likeness to god. In short, Plato’s pyrrhichē permits us to unbutton the choral psychology at the heart of Magnesia’s choral kosmos and the structure informing Plato’s last and underappreciated dialogue. From this will emerge a radically different understanding of the Laws as the first fully developed theory of dance, movement, character formation and cognition, as well as a new appreciation of Magnesia as a city designed in its entirety as the fullest human expression of orderly movement, modeled on the movement of god and the universe.21

21

Early music theorists included Damon and Timotheus. See Anderson (1966) 38-42; 50-53; 64-109; 147-153 for their work and their influence on Plato’s theory of music, dance and mimesis.

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B. Plan and Method The general plan of the dissertation is to begin with the Athenian pyrrhichē in Chapter Two before I move into the choral landscape of Magnesia (Chapters Three through Five). Since Plato’s pyrrhichē is both corrective to the Athenian dance and gateway into the choral world of Magnesia, it makes sense to begin with its historic counterpart to establish the choral frame of reference that Plato assumes of his readers. Once in Magnesia I will proceed as something of an observer, to describe what choral performance in Magnesia looks like, in its occasions of performance; my observations will expand from choral activity to all movement that is orderly, since I will begin to show that orderly movement is pervasive. On the interpretive side, I will seek to make sense of the plan that informs the creation of a city that moves entirely and on every level with order and rhythm. Before describing the dances of war and of peace, I will examine the Laws’ choral taxonomy, which sets forth the parameters for choral performance in Magnesia. Once this framework is established, it is much easier to see what kinds of performance are understood as proper to Magnesia and which are not. This general picture of choral performance will begin to illuminate the psychological and philosophical underpinnings of Plato’s choral choices, and as we proceed through the layers of choral thought in the dialogue, his deeper concern with achieving choral movement at all levels of life – from the physical, psychic and intellectual movement of the citizens to the city’s design and landscape - will begin to reveal itself. I will employ the descriptive and investigative models of “dance event” and “occasions of performance” in my examination of both the Athenian and Magnesian pyrrhics and their broader choral contexts. Both models seek to account for all the possible historical, social, geographical, personal, and political factors that define any public choral performance. The 10

former is a model employed by anthropologists and ethnographers to study the choral practices of living cultures, and presumes that a traditional dance performance does not occupy a discrete moment, but rather is informed by and informs a broader social context and continuum, outside of which the dance itself is not intelligible.22 Claude Calame has shown that such a model’s usefulness is not limited to living, observable cultures, but can be quite fruitfully applied to ancient choral practices and cultures as well.23 The latter, “occasions of performance” or “genre as occasion” model, is a conceptual paradigm drawn from the social sciences (primarily anthropology and linguistics) in response to the anachronistic generic taxonomies imposed upon the performance culture of archaic and classical Greece.24 This model attempts to approximate the ancients’ own understanding of genre as encompassing all the circumstances that obtain in any given choral performance. Folch has effectively applied this model in his investigation of the fictional musical culture of the Laws, testimony to Plato’s understanding of genre as occasion. These cognate models proceed from the aim to achieve what Geertz calls “thick description” or “an elaborate venture in.”25 Both are guides for gathering data for ethnographic description that incorporate every preceding, concomitant, or succeeding aspect of an utterance or performance or social act. Yet they are not merely descriptive or investigative models; they 22

On the anthropological model of the dance event as descriptive and interpretative tool, see Royce (1977) 10-13 and 15-17; Kealiinohomoku (1973) 45-47; and Kaeppler (1978) 503-506. 23

Calame (1997).

24

On the use of linguistic and anthropological models as productive alternatives to the prevailing Romantic paradigm of genre, see Most (2000) 15-26, who assesses the trend in genre studies away from the prevailing model toward models from the social sciences as a positive one; indeed, his own definition of genre (17-18) reflects the influence of social theory models: “a historically contingent and flexible reciprocal system of mutually calibrated expectations, correlating some participants who are more or less active . . . with others who are more or less passive. . . within a loosely bounded but largely self-conscious cultural community. . . in which each group delegates to the other specific roles, duties, pleasures, and anxieties.” For a more recent discussion of the evolution of this conceptual model and its uses, see Carey (2009) 21-38. 25

Geertz (1973) 18-21.

11

are also inherently interpretive.26 They are designed to discover and make sense of a particular social discourse and to archive moments in which that discourse is crystallized. This makes them especially suitable for a study of a performance culture. From a performance studies perspective, Erving Goffman explains: A performance may be defined as all the activity of a given participant on a given occasion which serves to influence in any way any of the other participants . . . When an individual or performer plays the same part to the same audience on different occasions, a social relationship is likely to arise. Defining social role as the enactment of rights and duties attached to a given status, we can say that a social role will involve into one or more parts and that each of these different parts may be presented by the performer on a series of occasions to the same kinds of audiences or to an audience of the same persons.27 The “occasions of performance” model is designed to rescue such moments of enactment from a non-extant historical culture, while the “dance event” model is designed to rescue such moments from a living, performing culture. The Laws, itself a dramatic dialogue that engages the reader in a performance of sorts, offers a city in which the discourse of the entire state is focused in performance.28 Can we, however, suitably apply the dance event and genre as occasion models to a fictional city in a philosophical dialogue? Folch has successfully employed the model of genre as occasion as he examines the role of gender in the production of musical genres in the Laws, and this suggests that both text of the Laws and the fictional culture of Magnesia can withstand such scrutiny. Myles Burnyeat suggests that Plato is fully capable of fashioning a culture comprehensive and

26

Geertz (1973) 20-21 maintains that interpretive nature of the ethnographic endeavor.

27

Goffman (1959) 15-16

28

Folch (2006) 6-9.

12

complex enough to withstand such close examination. On the philosopher’s masterful grasp of the cultural and political complexities of civilization and polis life in the Republic he writes: If you are designing an ideal city, as Plato does in the Republic, and contrasting it with the corruptions of existing societies, as he also does in the Republic, then you need to think about much more than political institutions in a narrow sense. You need to think about all the influences, all the ideas, images, and practices, that make up the culture of a society. I do not mean “high culture,” but culture in a more anthropological sense – the sense my dictionary defines as “the total of the inherited ideas, beliefs, values, and knowledge, which constitute the shared bases of social action.” Even this definition is not broad enough, for it makes no mention of the material culture of a society – its characteristic artefacts, its buildings, even the kinds of landscape it creates. Plato did not forget the material culture.29 What Burnyeat testifies to here is Plato’s ability to construct a fictional city of cultural unity and integrity. The same, I suggest, may be said of Magnesia, the city of the Laws. This implies that the cities of the Republic and Laws are the results of Plato’s own ethnographic study and interpretation and this further influences our discussion of Magnesia and the dialogue in which it is embedded to some degree. Plato constructs a city in which genre is production and performance based, but he does so as a participant in a text based culture, producing what Depew and Obbink call a “metadiscourse about genre,” a conceptualization of genre that is distanced from it.30 Consequently, it will from time to time be appropriate to distinguish between the text of the Laws, which represents Plato’s “metadata,” and the fictional choral city itself, Magnesia. This will not change the way I gather information, but it will prove an important distinction to observe on several occasions. Furthermore, I will use the “dance event” and “occasions of performance” models to describe the fictional city, not the dialogue 29

Burnyeat (1999) 217-218.

30

Depew and Obbink (2000) 3-4.

13

itself. Since the models are functional analogues, I will use both with some fluidity throughout the dissertation, but will generally describe an entire choral performance as a dance event, while referring to the elements that distinguish it from other performances (or genres) as its occasions of performance. In Chapter Two, “Dancing for Athena in Athens: Pyrrhichē and Panathenaia,” I will examine the Athenian pyrrhic as a dance event, whose occasions of performance extend beyond the participants and the Panathenaic festival context to all the events leading up to and following the performance, either in actual time or even in the collective associations of participants and spectators, since that too is part of the ideological landscape of the Athenian choral world. In short, I will attempt to account for the Athenian pyrrhichē as a social act with political and religious implications. The close cultic connection between the Panathenaia and the pyrrhic demands that we look to Athena Polias herself and her roles as pyrrhic dancer par excellence, patron of the military and civilized arts and of Athens, and the model for the Athenian civic ideal of the citizen-warrior. The role of the Panathenaia in the formation, negotiation, and expression of Athenian identity has been widely acknowledged and the pyrrhichē, as the dance honoring and representing Athena Polias, is also generally acknowledged as one of the most important events in the Panathenaic festivals.31 Therefore this chapter will also offer some observations on why and how this dance event became a distillation of Panathenaic ideology and the ideal of the citizen-warrior. As one of the most prominent civic festivals in Athens and the most important festival for Athena, the Panathenaia served as a locus for the formation and communication of Athenian

31

The idea of civic identity is highly problematic, as Connor observes (1994) 41. On the centrality of the pyrrhichē to Panathenaic ideology, see Ceccarelli (2004) 94-95.

14

civic values and identity, and as the political landscape of Athens changed, this identity was renegotiated and redefined in the fluid context of the festival which projected for Athenians and non-Athenians alike the image of Athens.32 The Athenian pyrrhichē simultaneously constituted the representation of a victorious Athena and the ceremonial expression of Athenian civic and military aretē. In short, pyrrhichē and Panathenaia celebrated Athena and Athens and in so doing, helped to define “Athenianness” at home and abroad. Though the quadrennial Panathenaia was a lavish festival open to all Greek athletes and musicians (and so technically Panhellenic), in many important aspects it remained a local and uniquely Athenian festival.33 To this end, I will examine the format of the festival, focusing particularly on the tribal competitions, which were limited to Athenian citizens. Among these exclusively Athenian competitions was the pyrrhic dance. For the pyrrhic performance in the Panathenaia, our evidence is primarily artistic (vase paintings) and epigraphic (prize lists and dedicatory inscriptions); a smattering of classical literary references in history, tragedy, comedy, and oratory offer up a fragmentary picture of the pyrrhic dance but one that, nonetheless, helps to fill in some gaps.34 Scholarship on the pyrrhichē dance tends to fall into one of three categories of study: general studies of ancient Greek dance,

32

On the role of civic festivals in social and political communication, identity formation and negotiation in archaic Athens, see Connor (1987) 41-42. On the role of the Panathenaia in identity formation in democratic and imperial Athens, see Shapiro (1996) 221-222; Anderson ( 2003) 173-174; Neils (1994) 151-160. 33

Our primary sources for the festival comprise literary references, artistic representations, and epigraphical data, most importantly a fourth-century prize list: IG II2 2311 ca 370 BCE. Comprehensive studies are the two studies edited by Jenifer Neils (1992, 1996) and the dissertation by Julia L. Shear (2001) which, in addition to a helpful overview of the festival’s components and history, provide some valuable insights into various aspects of the festival’s political and civic implications. See also Shear (2003) 87-108 on the prize lists and sacred oil. 34

Xenophon Anabasis 6.1; Euripides Andromache 1132-1136; Aristophanes Clouds 985-989; Lysias 21.2; Isaeus 5.36.

15

the Panathenaic festivals, and the pyrrhichē itself.35 The general studies of dance are useful more for their collection and presentation of literary, epigraphic, and artistic source material than for their interpretive contributions.36 Studies devoted to the pyrrhic dance number few and so are indispensable.37 Jean-Claude Poursat made a thorough study of Attic vase representations of armed dance in the late 1960s, while the literary references to the pyrrhichē, especially in Old Comedy, were a special area of interest for E.K. Borthwick in the 1970s. To date, however, the most comprehensive study of the pyrrhichē is Paola Ceccarelli’s La Pirrica nell’Antichità greco-romana, which examines the weapon dance in its various instantiations throughout the ancient Greco-Roman world, with a chapter devoted to Athens. Ceccarelli’s thorough treatment of the sources, combined with an anthropological approach, makes this a most useful resource for anyone whose interests lie in ancient dances of the Mediterranean world, not just armed dances or the Athenian pyrrhichē. Yet Ceccarelli, like so many other scholars of ancient Greek dance and the pyrrhichē, is at a loss when it comes to the pyrrhichē of the Laws, except to appropriate it to describe the historical, Athenian pyrrhichē.38 Since this dissertation explores both the historical Athenian pyrrhichē and its fictional Magnesian counterpart, it must grapple with their respective factual and philosophical contexts – the Panathenaic festivals and Platonic political philosophy. Both are shaped by the contemporary 35

On generalist studies of ancient Greek dance, see Latte (1904); Tölle (1964); Lawler (1964); Lonsdale (1993); Naerebout (1997). On the festival context of the pyrrhichē, see Parke (1977); Simon (1983); Neils (1992, 1996); Shapiro (1994); Kyle (1992, 1996); Shear (2001). 36

Particularly the works of Royce (1977), Hanna (1979), and Spencer (1985); Lonsdale and Naerebout acknowledge the field of dance anthropology, although neither incorporates dance anthropological models or concepts in any substantive way. 37

Studies devoted to the pyrrhichē are those of Downes (1904); Borthwick (1967, 1968, 1969, 1970); Poursat (1968, 1969); Scarpi (1979); Delavoud-Roux (1993); Ceccarelli (1997, 2004). 38

Scarpi (1979) is the other exception, but he simply calls the Magnesian pyrrhichē Spartan rather than Athenian, without exploring the context of the Magnesian pyrrhichē any further.

16

Athenian political and cultural landscape. Plato’s last response to this landscape was the Laws, in which mousikē’s complex ethical and political impact is fully articulated and manipulated. At Republic 424c6-9, Socrates agrees with Damon, that “the laws of music never undergo change without the most important political laws [doing the same].” The guiding principle for the ideal city is then set forth: since the laws of mousikē and of the polis are so intimately connected, mousikē must be conscientiously guarded; in fact, it is the responsibility of the guardians to construct a safeguard for it, as they would construct a home (424d1-2).39 This mandate remains fundamental to Plato’s musical choices in the Laws, wherein he aims to fashion just such a safeguard for mousikē. 40 In order to do so, he lays the foundation and framework of performance, that is, the precise rules governing the network of determinants that define the occasions of choral performance and imbue it with meaning. Although Magnesian culture is fictional, it is not a simple fictional construct. It not only reflects the historical centrality of choral performance to cultural tradition in ancient Greece; it also reflects Plato’s subtle appreciation of the complexity with which choral performance informs and generates explicit and implicit hierarchies of identity

39

What those musical laws are we can infer from the Athenian Stranger’s description of the excesses in music that led to political excess in Athens (3.700a7-701d4); excess leads to the inappropriate mixing of elements that ought to be generically discrete. Musical laws, then, maintain generic boundaries and stability. As Kowalzig (2004) 39-65, esp. 44-45, observes, there is a distinctly religious concern here: Magnesia is a religious state, and generic stability ensures proper relations with the divine. 40

The mimetic nature and ethical force of choreia are explicitly stated in 2.655d5-656a5; 7.798d8-e8; 812b10-c9; implicitly, the prescriptive nature of Magnesian mousikē addresses a deficient Athenian musical culture whose deterioration is chronicled in 3.700a7-701d4. On Magnesian musical culture as a corrective to Athenian musical culture, see Morrow (1960) 307-308 and Kowalzig (2004) 41-43; both observe the non-traditional nature of Athenian musical culture, which rendered it open to innovation and generic mixing, and Plato’s inclination toward more traditional, Doric elements in musical performance.

17

within the polis.41 As I noted above, Folch’s study of musical performance and genre in the dialogue serves as a stringent test of Magnesia’s integrity, and the city emerges as a sound, cultural unity. Chapters Three through Five will further test the unity of Plato’s cultural construct and aim to demonstrate that it is, indeed, structurally sound; furthermore, underlying the structure of Magnesia is a philosophy of dance, movement and cognition that Plato understands as integral to achieving the goal of godlikeness. In the first part of the third chapter, “Dancing for the Gods in Magnesia: Pyrrhichē and Emmeleia,” I will examine the choral taxonomy of the Laws, which operates in two registers, the descriptive/mimetic and the prescriptive/political. The Athenian Stranger establishes the taxonomy first to classify the general mimetic classes of dance, next their types, and finally the precise mimetic configurations for each, including the type of person represented, the context, and the ways in which that person moves and behaves. Thus organizing his raw choral material, the Athenian Stranger then can determine which configurations are appropriate to the Magnesian state and its citizens. The choral taxonomy then will not only serve to illuminate Plato’s choral choices for Magnesia, but it will also serve as a guide for the future Lawgiver and Law Guardians who will be entrusted with framing and preserving the choral order of Magnesia. In the second part of the third chapter, I will turn to the repeprtoire of choral performance in Magnesia to describe, as fully as possible, the choral life of Magnesian citizens as they perform the dances of war and of peace. I will examine both classes of dance as events, focusing on the elements required by the choral taxonomy and the text’s implicit and explicit expressions 41

This is apparent in the twists and turns the Republic’s discussion takes with poetry, for which, see Burnyeat (1999) 217-324, esp. 285.

18

of the occasions of performance: who dances them, when, how often, for what deity, etc. First, for his pyrrhichē (the dance of war), Plato has stripped the inherited contexts and associations of the weapon dance, leaving only the essential weapon dance around which he builds the religious, political, and social framework he wishes. Next, he offers a nearly complete dance event that allows us to gather helpful anthropological data on participants, frequency, deity, etc. This reconfiguration of the pyrrhichē’s occasions of performance positions the Magnesian weapon dance in direct ideological contrast to its Athenian counterpart.42 For example, one of the elements essential to both Athenian and Magnesian pyrrhic dance events is the worship of Athena. Yet, I will suggest that unlike the Athenian pyrrhichē, which is performed annually and every four years, the Magnesian pyrrhichē is performed daily, and as the dance honoring the goddess, it invokes her presence whenever it is performed.43 In short, Athena, like the dance honoring her, is prevalent in Magnesia. We begin to see then how far-reaching the implications of the refashioned pyrrhic dance event are for Plato. Yet the pyrrhichē’s reconfiguration also gives us insight into the dances of peace, which are far less developed than the pyrrhichē. I will show how the Magnesian pyrrhichē, as the only dance in the dialogue that is fully formed in its occasions of performance, serves as model for the construction of the other choral forms in Magnesia, the emmeleia or the dances of peace. Given the vagueness of the text regarding these dances of peace, I will first look to the choral

42

See Morrow (1960) 361-362 on the Magnesian pyrrhichē as a critique of a deteriorating Athenian pyrrhichē, especially 815b1-3, in which the pyrrhichē performed in any way other than that described would be considered ouk orthos; Morrow, however, understands the pyrrhichē merely as a dance, rather than a dance event. Folch (2006) 25 describes institutionalized performance in the Laws as a reconfiguration of “the politics of contemporary Athenian performance.” 43

The primary role of a chorus was to provide a setting for human-divine communication and interaction. On lyric choruses, see Calame (1997) 207; on choruses as the civic and religious space for human-divine interaction, see Lonsdale (1993) 117-119.

19

taxonomy, which sets forth what is required of these dances in general terms. Then I will examine the Three Choruses as a framework for age classes and phases of choral participation, as well as to the choral curriculum in Magnesia. These frameworks will allow us to envision the choral landscape of Magnesia more fully with regard to participation, if not specifically the choreographic features of the dances of peace. In the end, I will turn to the three dance forms that have lain dubiously at the gates of Magnesia - the tragic, comic, and bacchic dances. With the choral taxonomy as a guide, we will be better able to determine if they occupy a place in Magnesia or not and, if they do, what they might look like in the Magnesian context. The choral taxonomy of the Laws permits a rather broad and clear view of the Magnesian choral landscape. It answers our questions about what dance forms are included and what forms are not, yet it only begins to hint at why. Subtending the choral taxonomy is the ethical impact not only of mimetic acts but also of movement in general. Following this thread will lead us to Plato’s choral psychology, which links the movement of the body and the movement of the soul in correlation. In the fourth chapter, “Choreia, Paideia and the Choral Psychology of the Laws,” I will address these questions and examine both the ethical and political valence Plato attributes to choral performance. From the deep and abiding connection Plato draws between paideia and choreia, as well as the central role of choral performance in the city of Magnesia, choreia will emerge as a significant ethical concern and educational tool for Plato and his fictional Lawgiver. Indeed, it will emerge as the predominant means of teaching and learning civic virtue. Throughout the dialogue Plato peels away the layers of paideia until its ultimate aim and scope become clear - to lead citizens to virtue so that they desire to be complete and perfect citizens – and central to this endeavor is choreia, singing and dancing for the gods.

20

Yet for Plato the impact of singing and dancing for the gods extends beyond reverential behavior. At the heart of Plato’s choral psychology is the correlation between physical and psychic movement, that is, the movements of the body both reflect and influence the movements of the soul, and vice versa. Since one’s character is determined by the movements of one’s soul, it begins to become clear why Plato focuses on the body and physical movement as an important tool for the education of character. Choreia is one powerful way in which to train both body and soul in orderly movement and so prepare the soul for virtue. Yet wherein lies the power of choreia to achieve the aims of paideia, that is, to educate the character of the individual and, moreover, to achieve the goal of the legislator to achieve happiness and virtue in individual and state? In this chapter I will argue that Plato’s choral psychology is founded upon this natural psychophysical mechanism, in which the movements of the body and the soul correlate, and furthermore that this mechanism lies at the heart of Plato’s understanding of mimesis as a human phenomenon that is most effectively and easily guided through choral performance. Choral activity in the Laws has been described by Kowalzig as response and corrective to the dysfunctional choral world of fourth-century Athens, where the loss of generic distinctions between choral forms reflects the loss of religious distinctions a society must preserve in order to propitiate the gods correctly. She is right in observing that Magnesia is a choral city because it is a religious city, and in pointing out the importance of religious observance for the well being of Magnesia. Though Kowalzig’s article has done much to point scholarly attention in a fruitful direction, there is in Magnesia more to choral performance than religious observance.44 JeanFrançois Pradeau also observes the Laws’ overriding concern with orderly movement.45 Using

44

Kowalzig (2004) 43-46.

45

Pradeau (2002) 133-166.

21

the Timaeus as a point of departure, Pradeau understands Magnesia as a city of mathematical, orderly movement, finding rhythmic motion in the layout of the city and in the daily movements of its citizens, all of which reflects and helps in the assimilation of the movement of the nous, the movement of god, and the movement of the universe. Although Pradeau overlooks choral performance in his study, he draws our attention to the mathematical structures that underlie the physical motion of the city from its center to its borders and in concentric circles, describing Magnesia as “a reality of movement.”46 Indeed, the point at which the studies of Kowalzig and Pradeau intersect and which I will pursue is divine movement of individual and state, and this helps to orient the fifth and final chapter, “Moving Like God, Being Like God: the Choral Teleology of Magnesia” toward a discussion of orderly movement as central to becoming as much like god as possible. This inquiry will lead me to the Timaeus, Book Ten of the Laws, and Plato’s theory of movement. The best movement is self-movement, and this describes the movement of the mind (nous), which reflects the movement of the universe; the best movement of the body reflects the movement of the mind, that is, rhythmic and orderly movement (Timaeus 89a). Illuminating is an anthropologist’s definition of dance as “human behavior composed of purposeful, intentionally rhythmical, and culturally influenced sequences of nonverbal body movements in time, space, and with effort.”47 Yet while choreia is a powerful tool for training the body and so the soul in intentional orderly movement, alone it cannot achieve full virtue. In the fifth chapter I explore the entire program of orderly movement that Plato fashions in the Laws, and of which

46

Stalley (1983) 131; Pradeau (2002) 156.

47

Hanna (1975) 41.

22

choreia is but a part. Indeed, I will show that the city is designed in its entirety as a single motional enterprise that imitates the movement of the universe and of god, with the ultimate aim of assimilation to god, that is, godlikeness. Commentators have acknowledged both orderly movement and godlikeness as strands of late Platonic thought, yet none has observed the way in which Plato unifies the strands of movement and godlikeness in his construction of Magnesian life. In the fifth chapter I will situate Plato’s choral psychology within this unified motional plan for Magnesia. This plan is articulated in three spheres of activity: the choral sphere, addressed in Chapters Three and Four, trains the movement of the body and the soul. Chapter Five will examine the social sphere, which involves the care of one’s own soul and all those in one’s world, and the environmental sphere, that is, the city’s location and design, which influences the character and movements of the citizen. I hope to show that Plato designs each of these spheres of activity as an imitation and expression of divine movement and godlike activity, and that together, they constitute Plato’s integrated motional program to achieve virtue in citizen and state. In the end, I hope to demonstrate that the city of the Laws is a performance of movement modeled on the motions of the divine and the universe, and designed to achieve godlikeness and virtue to the fullest extent possible in as many citizens as possible.

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2 Dancing for Athena in Athens: Pyrrhichē and Panathenaia

Introduction Without Plato's description of the ideal pyrrhic dance, once central to any discussion of the Athenian weapon dance, we must reassess the evidence for the historical pyrrhichē. What remains is a body of classical evidence culled from roughly fifty vase paintings, three relief sculptures, three short references from oratory, one from tragedy, and five from Old Comedy. Scholiasts and later authors can serve to illuminate or obscure the classical evidence, which leaves us with an incomplete picture of pyrrhic choruses: we can be certain of very little regarding the dance’s composition or choreography and none regarding its origins or even its function prior to the classical age. But it should be understood that even had we sufficient visual, literary and musical evidence to re-create the dance’s choreographic elements, we would not necessarily be any closer to understanding its role and impact in Athens. Its occasions of performance may tell us more than its choreographic elements. The term weapon dance is synonymous with both armed dance and warrior dance, and should be understood as a dance performed by real or symbolic warriors. It can serve a variety of functions, discrete or simultaneous; it can be a form of affective readying, of displacement and re-integration into society, of initiation into adulthood, and as a symbol of social power.1 The weapon dance is a form of play, inasmuch as its mimesis of fighting is distinct from the 1

Hanna (1979) 179-197; Spencer (1985) 145-148; Royce (1977) 232-232.

24

motivations and the reality of combat. It is also predominantly traditional, so that it may evolve over time to reflect developments in the socio-political landscape due to such factors as economic fluctuations, natural disasters, foreign influence, and the reshuffling of power structures.2 Traditional weapon dances, then, are informed by a variety of contingencies, including past performances, and they have the potential to impact the form and meaning of future performances. Thus Kaeppler calls the configuration of such contingencies of performance the dance event.3 Weapon dances were prolific in the ancient Mediterranean world, and their form, composition, and designation varied according to region and divine association.4 Of all the names for regional weapon dances in the ancient Greek world, pyrrhichē alone came to designate both the local, Athenian weapon dance and the Greek weapon dance in general (enoplion orchēsis). The diffusion of the term is not surprising. Given the nature of weapon dances in the ancient Mediterranean world, the pyrrhichē likely originated as a local, Attic weapon dance. At some point it was included in the Greater Panathenaia, which was reorganized in 566 BCE. Although we do not know when the pyrrhichē was introduced in to the Great Panathenaia, as a traditional dance, its form and function would have evolved over time, as would the civic festival itself of which it became so prominent a part. By the classical age, the pyrrhic dance had evolved into the choral form celebrating Athena Polias, the ceremonial expression of victory, Athenian

2

Hanna (1979) 180-181: however, they may also become strictly ceremonial dances performed for outsiders, in which case, they no longer function traditionally. 3

Kaeppler (1978) 503-506; see also Hanna (1979) 5-9.

4

For the regional variations in ancient Greek weapon dances, see Wheeler (1982) 223-233. The orsites, prylis, and telesias were associated with Crete, with the karpeia was Spartan. See Athenaeus 631ff; Xenophon Anabasis 6.1; Lucian de Saltatione; Pollux 4.99. Weapon dances are not restricted to pre-urban, pre-literate, or warlike societies, and some are still practiced in Europe. See Wolfram (1987) 186-187.

25

civic and military aretē, and so was central to the Panathenaia’s etiology and consequently its ideology. 5 As one of the most prominent civic festivals in Athens and the most important festival for the city’s patron, the Panathenaia – the festival for all Athenians – served as a locus for the formation and communication of Athenian civic identity,6 and as the political landscape of Athens changed, this identity was renegotiated and redefined in the fluid context of the festival that projected for Athenians and non-Athenians alike the image of Athens.7 The pyrrhichē celebrated Athena and Athens and, in so doing, helped to define the Athenian’s polis, his place in the polis, and Athens' place in the world. In short, it projected the image of the ideal Athenian citizen

A. The Panathenaia An inscribed prize-list (IG II2 2311) gives us a good idea of the grand scope and lavish nature of the Greater Panathenaic festivals in the fourth century.8 Though broken in two and missing portions of both top and bottom, the inscription nevertheless provides us with the prizes for the musical, gymnastic, and equestrian events that were open to all free Greeks, as well as the tribal competitions for Athenian citizens.9 Even in its partial state, the inscription reveals an 5

In addition to the pyrrhichē, cyclic choruses are attested for the Small Panathenaia in the fifth century (Lysias 21.12), though we have no evidence for them in the Great Panathenaia. Although the fourth-century Great Panathenaic prize list IG2 2311 is broken off at the bottom, the only choral competition mentioned is the pyrrhichē. 6

On the role of civic festivals in social and political communication, construction and negotiation in archaic Athens, see Connor (1987) 41. 7

For the Panathenaia and the Kleisthenic reforms, see Neils (1994) and Anderson (2003) 158-177; for the festival during the Periklean age, see Shapiro (1996); for the role of civic festivals as fora for political and social dialogue, see Connor (1987). 8

Ca 380-370 BCE. For the inscription translation and reconstruction of missing text see Neils (1992) 16.

9

This is the only evidence that offers a possible sequence of events during the games at the Panathenaia. Indeed, Neils (1992) 15-17 follows the inscription in her reconstruction of the Panathenaic program.

26

extensive program. The fragment alone lists thirty-two competitive events, and more were listed on the missing portions. The duration of the festival is unclear, but was likely to have changed to accommodate the expanding format of the festival; commentators have suggested that it lasted anywhere from four to eight days. 10 In addition to the extensive competitive portion of the festival, which may have required as many as five to six days, the program included the Panathenaic procession to the Acropolis, the ensuing sacrifice of one hundred cows, the presentation of the ritual robe for the cult statue of Athena (the peplos), the all-night revel, and the presentation of prizes. The prizes for victors in the musical, gymnastic, and equestrian events were lavish: silver and gold, in cash and crowns for the musicians and for the athletes and horsemen large specialty amphoras of olive oil from the sacred grove of Athena; furthermore, unlike in the crown games at Olympia, Delphi, Isthmia and Nemea, where only the victors were awarded prizes, second and third place winners in the Panathenaia received significant prizes, as well.11 Such an extravagant display of Athenian wealth and resources required a massive undertaking. The Panathenaia was celebrated at the end of Hekatombaion, the first month of the Athenian calendar (roughly equivalent to our July). Ritual preparation for the Panathenaia began

10

The scholiast to Aelius Aristides Panathenaicus 147 and to Euripides Hecuba 469 agree on four days, though this may imply four days of contests, for it is difficult to imagine the whole festival program ca 370 could be fit into a four-day period. Neils (1992) 15 reconstructs an eight-day program starting on 23 Hekatombaion, with the procession and peplos presentation on the 28th. An extension of the festival days would not be unprecedented. The crown or circuit games (periodos) lasted about a week each by the fifth century. Certainly, as the Panathenaic program expanded its equestrian events and seemed even to include theatrical performances in the second century, the duration of the festival was likely lengthened. See Tracy (1991) 187-236 on the expanded programs of the Greater Panathenaia in 170, 166, and 162. 11

The prizes changed over the years. We learn from Ath. Pol. 60.3 that silver money and gold vessels - not crowns are awarded to victors in musical contests, and that shields were awarded to the winner of the euandria, one of the tribal contests. Of the tribal contests and Panathenaic prize amphoras, more will be said later. On the value of the prizes and their function as advertisements of Athenian wealth and power, see Kyle (1992). On the procurement of the prizes, see Ath. Pol. 60.2-3.

27

nine months earlier with the Chalkeia, the festival of handicrafts for Hephaestus and Athena Ergane; in this festival the Athenians set up the loom on which the peplos (robe) for the cult statue of Athena Polias would be woven.12 Seven months later, in the Kallynteria Athena Polias’ temple was cleaned and polished. During the Festival of Washing (Plynteria) that followed, the cult statue of Athena Polias was ceremoniously wrapped, removed from the temple, carried to the sea for ritual bathing, and returned to her temple by torchlight.13 Soon after these cleansing ceremonies was the Arrephoria.14 During the night of the feast, the arrephoroi (Carriers of Unspoken Things), two girls between seven and eleven, carried unknown items ("secret things of Athena") in baskets on their heads through a secret passage to the garden of Aphrodite, where they deposited their items and retrieved other, unknown items wrapped to conceal their nature.15 The antiquity and nature of this last preparatory festival remain a mystery; what is significant is that four festivals in the religious calendar served ritually to prepare the city and its people for the Panathenaia.16

12

They set the loom up on the Acropolis. Suda Chalkeia 35; Pollux 7.105; Eustathius Iliad 285.35; on Athena’s statue in the Hephaestion, see Pausanias 1.14.6. See also Deubner (1959) 35; Parke (1977) 92-94; Simon (1983) 3839. 13

Deubner (1959) 17-22; Parke (1977) 152-155; Simon (1983) 46-48. Women of the Attic clan Praxiergidae were responsible for undressing the statue in the temple and dressing her again in a clean peplos upon her return. 14

The exact month and date of the Arrephoria are unknown, but scholars tend toward the midsummer month of Skiraphorion, the last month of the Athenian calendar. This would make the Arrephoria the final rites in preparation for the Panathenaia. See Deubner (1959) 9-17; Simon (1983) 39-40; Parke (1977) 142, however, finds the height of summer an improbable time for the rites and suggests they were celebrated two months earlier in Mounichion. 15

The archon basileus nominated four girls as arrephoroi, upon whom the people voted; the other two were engaged in the weaving of the peplos. See Parke (1977) 141; Simon (1983) 39-43. On the secret passage, see Pausanias 1.27.3; his description has been corroborated by excavations in which the dwelling, playground, and underground passage have been identified. Simon (1983) 41-46 discusses the various theories regarding the mysteries of the Arrephoria. 16

The antiquity of the preparatory festivals is unclear, as is their function prior to the establishment of the Greater Panathenaia in 566 BCE.

28

The administrative preparations also must have been intensive, and duties for the ten Panathenaic officials (athlothētai) seem to have begun four years earlier with their selection by lot by the nine archons.17 It has been estimated that over 1,400 prize amphorae would have to have been commissioned for one Greater Panathanaic festival.18 In addition to commissioning the manufacture of the Panathenaic prize amphoras, the athlothētai would have been responsible for overseeing the production of the peplos, the organization of the procession, the musical, gymnastic and equestrian contests, and the procurement and distribution of the prizes.19 After extensive religious and organizational preparations the Greater Panathenaia began with the ostentatious procession to the Acropolis, the solemn presentation of the peplos to Athena Polias, and the sacrifice, followed by feasting and an all night revel.20 By the time of the fourth-century inscription, the basic format of the Panathenaia been in place for almost two hundred years and had evolved into an awe-inspiring display of Athenian wealth and power. Its evolution from a modest, local festival for Athenians into what Greg Anderson describes as a “heady cocktail of Athena worship, Olympic-style panegyris, and political showcase,” merits consideration.21

17

Though initially selected by lot, the ten had to be judged qualified to serve. If they were, they held office for four years. On the selection of the athlothetai, see Ath. Pol. 60.1. 18

Neils (1992) 46.

19

Ath. Pol. 49.3 & 60.1-3.

20

On the 28th as the day of the procession, see Proklos In Platonis Timaeum commentarii 9b and the scholiast on Plato Republic 327a. But IG II2 334, ca 337/6-330/29, reports the Lycurgan regulation that the hieropoioi conduct the pannychis well and send off the Istros, FGrH 334 procession at sunrise. This does not necessarily imply a required sequence, and Boegehold (1996) 96-97 sensibly suggests the procession began at sunrise on the 28th, followed by the peplos presentation, with the sacrifice and all-night celebration to follow. 21

Anderson (2003) 160.

29

The ancients considered the Panathenaia among the oldest festivals in Greece.22 The tradition at first is simple and nearly unanimous - all but one of the sources agree that the festival was founded by Erichthonius, Hephaestus’ son, Athena’s foster-child, and the legendary king of Athens.23 The post-foundation tradition then must be pieced together from fragments in lexicographers who further complicate the matter by attempting to reconcile the existence of the two Panathenaic festivals with one another, with legend, and with historical developments in Athens. The annual and quadrennial Panathenaia are distinguished as the Small and Great (mikra and megala), though the quadrennial festival by classical times had dropped the megala and was called simply the Panathenaia. The most common tradition accounts for both festivals in terms of local legend and historical practice. Erichthonius established the older, smaller festival and called it the Athenaia; Theseus later reorganized the Athenaia as part of his unification of Attica and renamed it the Panathenaia.24 This tradition establishes a neat continuity between the annual and quadrennial festivals; furthermore, by associating the second festival with Theseus' legendary unification of Attica, it endows the reformed festival with the authority of legend while situating it in a semi-historical context.

22

The scholiast on Aelius Aristides” Panathenaicus 13.189.4-5 has the Panathenaia the second oldest festival in Greece after the Eleusinia, and Pausanias (8.2.1) cites the Lycaea as the only festival older than the Panathenaia. For differing modern views on the antiquity of the annual Panathenaia and the historical value of the sources, see Davison (1958) and Anderson (2003) 174-177. 23

All the ancient testimonia agree on Erichthonius as founder, with the one exception of Plutarch who credits Theseus alone with the festival”s foundation (Theseus 24). Eratosthenes Katasterismoi 13 adds that Erichthonius not only instituted the first Panathenaic festival, but also invented the chariot and was known as the first apobates (chariot jumper). 24

Hellanicus FGrH 323a F2 and Androtion FGrH 324 F2 in Harpokration, s.v. Παναθήναια: Δημοσθένης Φιλιππικοῖς. διττὰ Παναθήναια ἤγετο Ἀθήνησι, τὰ μὲν καθ” ἕκαστον ἐνιαυτὸν, τὰ δὲ διὰ πεντετηρίδος, ἅπερ καὶ μεγάλα ἐκάλουν. Ἰσοκράτης Παναθηναϊκῷ φησι “μικρὸν δὲ πρὸ τῶν μεγάλων Παναθηναίων.” ἤγαγε δὲ τὴν ἑορτὴν πρῶτος Ἐριχθόνιος ὁ Ἡφαίστου, καθά φησιν Ἑλλάνικός τε καὶ Ἀνδροτίων, ἑκάτερος ἐνα Ἀτθίδος. πρὸ τούτου δὲ Ἀθήναια ἐκαλεῖτο, ὡς δεδήλωκεν Ἴστρος ἐν γʹτῶν Ἀττικῶν. schol. Plato Parmenides 127a; On Erichthonius” parentage, see Apollodorus 3.14.5-6.

30

Of the first festival we have no early decisive evidence. A sudden wealth of votives beginning in the last half of the eighth century indicates that Athena’s sanctuary on the acropolis had become an active center of worship.25 While it is tempting to suggest an early Panathenaic (or Athenaic) festival, still there is no definitive evidence for either. Although attested in the classical period, the Small Panathenaia is still rather poorly documented, so we are compelled to conjecture about its possible archaic and early classical format.26 We can say with some certainty that, like all festivals, it must have entailed a procession to the sanctuary, a sacrifice, and a feast.27 As a local festival, it may originally (perhaps always) have been limited to Athenians, and if there were athletic competitions, they likely involved a closed circle of aristocrats. However, it was not entirely uncommon for local games to be open to outsiders.28 In the classical period, cyclic (dithyrambic) and pyrrhichē choral competitions are attested in the annual festival, but no earlier evidence for specific events in the annual festival exists.29 Given the traditional nature of cyclic choruses and of the pyrrhichē, they may both have been a part of

25

Osborne (1994) 148-152; Herodotus 5.71 and 5.82, in describing Cylon’s attempt at tyranny in Athens in 634 describes a cult statue to which the conspirators fled for rescue. For the architectural evidence of early cult activity on the Acropolis, see Glowacki (1998) 80-83. 26

Not until the late classical and early Hellenistic periods does the evidence for the Lesser Panathenaia give a scholar something to sink her teeth into. For a thorough review of the testimonia for the Hellenistic and Roman periods, see Shear (2001) 175-189. 27

The annual peplos is not attested before the second century. See Shear (2001) 97-102.

28

Davison (1958) 23-24, 28. Any competitions in the earlier festival, maintains Davison, would have been unofficial. For the aristocratic nature of the games pre-566/5, see Kyle (1987) 15-28. For local games open to outsiders, see Gardiner (1930) 39 and Miller (2004) 129. 29

Lysias 21.2.4 for the pyrrhichē and dithyrambic choruses; see the Atarbos Base (IG2 3025, Athens, Akropolis Museum 1338,) for pyrrhichē choruses. For the base’s revised dating to 323/2, a year in which the annual Panathenaia were celebrated, see Shear (2003) 164-166. Previously, it was believed to have commemorated victories in the Great Panathenaia.

31

the annual festival prior to the reformation of the festival in 566; again, however, there is no evidence, and this is conjecture founded on the nature of traditional choral performance.30 In 566/5 the annual celebration in honor of Athena Polias began to be celebrated, in every fifth year, with exceptional extravagance, offering athletes and musicians from all over the Greek world the opportunity to win glory and prizes for themselves and acclaim for their cities. While two sources place the introduction of the Greater Panathenaia in the archonship of Hippokleides in 566/5, we can be all too precise about neither the date nor the exact nature of the shift. The emergence of Panathenaic amphorae around 560 reasonably supports such a date, but for what formal shift we cannot precisely or with any detail say, and commentators vary in their interpretations, from formalization to reorganization to reformation. 31 Athletic competitions might well have been part of the annual festival and open to Greek athletes from beyond Athens prior to 566/5.32 Consequently, a more cautious reading of 566/5 as the year in which the Panathenaia was formalized or reformed has been adopted. Likewise, we can say next to nothing of the individual or individuals responsible for this shift. No evidence directly connects Hippokleides with the Panathenaia, beyond its reorganization during his archonship. The sixthcentury Attic tyrant Peisistratos has been credited with the establishment of the Panathenaia, but 30

The first literary mention of dithyramb and pyrrhichē is in Archilochus Fragments 77 and 304, respectively. Dithyrambic choruses performed not only in the City Dionysia, but also in the Thargelia, Prometheia, and the Hephaistia. Ps. Xen. Ath. Pol. 3.4; see also Pickard-Cambridge (1927) 107. Cyclic choruses are not attested in the quadrennial Panathenaia. Lysias 21.1-2 is the only attestation of their performance in the annual celebration. However, if Boegehold (1996) 101-103 is correct in his assertion that a cyclic chorus is represented on the left side of the Atarbos Base (Athens, Akropolis 1338, IG2 2035), then that provides a late four-century attestation for the cyclic chorus in the Small Panathenaia. The base has recently dated by Shear (2003) 164-180 to a year in which the Small Panathenaia was produced. 31

Harpocration, s.v.Panathenaia, cf above; Eusebius Chronicon in Jerome’s Latin version, for the first Panathenaia in Hippokleides’ archonship. Davison (1958) 27 stresses the questionable dating of both and that perhaps it is safer to say that the athletic contests at the Panathenaia were “first made official” in 566. For the emergence of the Panathenaic prize amphorae around 560, see Neils (1992) 29-41; Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 465-472. 32

Gardiner (1930) 37-42.

32

this notion finds little to no support in the ancient evidence.33 Anderson suggests a reasonable alternative in Lycurgus of the Boutadai clan; as a leading member of the family that controlled the cult of Athena Polias, he enjoyed a fair amount of political power in the 560s, and was likely involved in some capacity.34 While the details behind this shift from local to Panhellenic festival format elude us, the motivation toward Panhellenism can be understood in terms of competition beyond Athens. The early sixth century witnessed the establishment of Panhellenic festivals at the sanctuaries of Apollo at Delphi (582), Poseidon at Isthmia (581) and Zeus at Nemea (573), all believed to have been modeled on the Olympic festival, traditionally founded in 776 BCE.35 The reformed festivals, like that at Olympia, included organized athletic competitions open to all free Greeks, with musical contests featured at Isthmia and Delphi. The establishment of three “new” Panhellenic festivals in the space of ten years set the competitive stage for Athens’ own bid for Panhellenic status and, with it, the unique opportunity it afforded a state to advertise its wealth,

33

In fact, the only source that connects Peisistratus with the festival is the scholiast on Aelius Aristides (Panathenaicus 189.4), who tells us that Peisistratos instituted the great festival. Neils (1992) 20-21 entertains the possibility that Peisistratos might have added athletic events to the festival during Hippokleides’ archonship, and that it may well have been a way of garnering support for himself in his subsequent bid for power. 34

Anderson (2003) 162-163.

35

While Osborne (1996) 100 admits that the 8th century Olympic games were likely less elaborate or regulated than they became later on, the number and quality of dedications in the sanctuary seem to imply that there were games in the 8th century. However, see Kyle (1996) 111-116, who suggests a much later date for the formalization, conceding only that any athletic competitions in the 8th century would have been on a very small, even negligible level. In agreement with Kyle about the unreliability of Hippias’ dating of the first Olympic games and his victors lists, see Hall (2002) 243; also Gardiner (1930) 33-36. The foundation legends for the stephanitic games traditionally involved funeral games for local heroes: Pelops (Olympia), Neoptolemus (Delphi), Melikertes (Isthmia), and Opheltes (Nemea). And all four eventually claimed the Panhellenic hero Herakles as their founder. For Herakles as the founder of the Olympic Games, see Pindar Olympian 11.

33

assert its status, its territory, and its identity. For, as Osborne observes, during the festival days all the Greek world’s attention was upon the host state.36 Athenian athletes may have competed at Olympia as early as 696, when Pantacles is said to have won the stadion and brought the first Olympic crown home to Athens.37 At home, however, in the early sixth century athletics in Athens was still an aristocratic affair, closely tied to cults that were under the control of aristocratic families, and so a forum for clan rivalries. We call to mind the state of affairs which led the Athenians to grant plenipotentiary powers to Solon during his archonship in 594/3: class strife, political clan rivalries, the enforced slavery of the poor majority by the wealthy few, and Athens’ profound vulnerability to the threat of tyranny.38 Solon’s legislation, if we are to believe Aristotle, unburdened the impoverished and enslaved, ensured political rights to the populace, and rendered it illegal for anyone to attempt to overthrow the state. 39 If the reforms attributed to Solon were designed to redirect the focus of the four classes away from differences toward their shared civic responsibility, they did not succeed. Just over ten years later, when Delphi and Isthmia were establishing themselves as Panhellenic centers, Athens was still struggling, with three regionally based parties jockeying for power.40 The political landscape of Athens does not seem to have changed overmuch with Solon's legislative reforms. 36

Osborne (1997) 244.

37

See Kyle (1987) 20-22 for Hippias’ list of seventh-century Athenian gymnastic and equestrian victors at Olympia; also 195-228 for the full list of Athenian victors in non-Athenian games. But see also Hall (2002) 241-246 on the unreliability of the lists and the possibility that the games at Olympia may in fact have been, like the other stephanitic games, formalized in the early seventh century; for propagandistic reasons Hippias might have wanted to project the games at Olympia as far back as he did (776 BCE). 38

Aristotle Ath. Pol. 5-6; Plutarch Solon 12; Thuc. 1.126.3-5;Pausanias 1.28.1.

39

Aristotle Ath. Pol. 6-8.

40

Aristotle Ath. Pol. 13; Plutarch Solon.

34

However, in light of the growing prestige of the Panhellenic games outside Athens, the legislation for state rewards to Athenian victors in the Olympic or Isthmian Games began to involve the state in what was previously a cultic and aristocratic sphere of influence – athletics – and what emerges is a growing sense of their civic potential. 41 An individual’s victory becomes a victory shared not just with his clan, but with his polis. Whether Peisistratos, Hippokleides, or Lycurgus – or any combination thereof – was responsible for the formalization of the Great Panathenaia in 566/5 is not so relevant as the fact that a civic athletic festival would not have been possible without some appreciation of the civic potential of athletic competition and performance. 42 What is significant about the date 566/5 is that while the earlier Panathenaia was an annual local festival under the management and control of an aristocratic clan, in its quadrennial incarnation it became a state-sponsored festival, a civic celebration.43 Athens, in establishing her own Panhellenic festival, was asserting her cultural and political identity. While worship and games allowed citizens to display individual prowess, the states sponsoring those events permitted states to display wealth, as well as to achieve a sense of communitas. However, although the Great Panathenaia achieved Panhellenic proportion, it never achieved full Panhellenic status. It was never part of the periodos, the circuit of four crown games (stephanites).44 First, the extravagance of the Panathenaic prizes distinguished it from the symbolic prizes of the periodos, the crowns which endowed the victor and his city with the 41

Plutarch Solon 23.3.

42

On cult activity as competitive, see Osborne (1996) 243-244; on the political significance of civic athletics, see Kyle (1987) 29-31. 43

On the significance of the moment for civic athletics in Athens, see Kyle (1987) 15-31.

44

Olive leaves at Olympia, bay leaves at Delphi, pine and later celery at Isthmia, and parsley at Nemea. See Gardiner (1930); Neils (1992). However, this does not mean that wreaths were not awarded at the Panathenaia, though usually in conjunction with other prizes. See Kyle (1996) 111-118.

35

talismanic power of kudos.45 Like the many other local and civic athletic festivals in Greece, the Panathenaia were chrematitic, rather than stephanitic.46 Second, location also distinguished the Panathenaia. The site of the sanctuary of Athena Polias ensured that the Panathenaia would retain, to a great extent, its urban and local significance.47 The Panathenaia, with its cultic center on the Acropolis, did not merely celebrate Athena Polias, but Athens and Athenian identity. Civic ritual was the medium for political expression, negotiation and communication in archaic Greece.48 As H. A. Shapiro has observed, “any festival . . . so central to the civic ideology of the polis must have taken on many different meanings and associations in different historical periods [and while] the religious significance of the festival may have been relatively fixed and unchanging, . . . its political importance was surely not.”49 The Panathenaia especially illustrates the intimate connection between topography, political events and the construction of civic identity.50 In 514 Harmodius and Aristogeiton, during the marshaling of the procession for the Greater Panathenaia, murdered the tyrant’s brother Hipparchos.51 The tyrant Hippias was not ousted until 510; and not until after 508/7

45

Kurke (1993) 131-163.

46

Prizes that might one day be dedicated at a sanctuary: Pindar Nem. 10.22-48 mentions, for example, bronze shield from the Heraia at Argos, a cloak from Pellene, silver wine cups from Sikyon. Nor was it uncommon for states to try to entice foreign athletes to their games with prizes more extravagant than those offered in other festivals - for example, Kroton and Sybaris, discussed by Kyle (1996) 115-117. 47

Anderson (2003) 104 describes Athena’s sanctuary as “Panhellenic in opulence” though still very local. This factor, to some degree, also set the Panathenaia apart from other local festivals. See de Polignac (1995) 81-88. A sanctuary to Athena Polias or Poliouchos (of the city) on the Akropolis was common to most cities; but for Athena Polias to be the primary patron and her urban sanctuary to become the religious center was unique to Athens. 48

Connor (1987) 41 ff on the significance of civic ritual in politics in archaic Greece, especially in Athens.

49

Shapiro (1996) 215.

50

Connor (1987) 40.

51

Herodotus 5.55; Thucydides 6.54-68; Aristotle Ath. Pol. 18-19.

36

when the occupying Spartan force was expelled in a revolutionary act, did Cleisthenes return and the Athenian citizens enact the reforms that ushered in democracy.52 Yet Harmodius and Aristogeiton, who were not technically tyrannicides at all, were thereafter credited with the end of tyranny and the birth of democracy.53 Their act and their image became synonymous with democracy and were memorialized in the Agora.54 Other such moments in Athenian history, as the victory over Boeotia and Chalcis in 506 and the victory at Marathon in 490, occurred during years in which the Greater Panathenaia was celebrated. These democratic and military moments, so formative for the Athenian state and character, were incorporated into Panathenaic ideology. Shapiro has, in fact, suggested that the Panathenaia, by Pericles’ time, celebrated Athena and the birth of democracy.55 Indeed, it is not unreasonable to say that Athenian democracy appropriated the goddess and her festival. Athena’s military victory over the Giants, the victory of order over chaos, was naturally enough associated with the victory of democracy over tyranny and the victory of the free west over the despotic east. However, despite the festival’s display of wealth and might, Panathenaic ideology had to negotiate the contradiction between democracy at home and imperialism abroad. Although donations of a sacrificial animal and armor were demanded of allies as a token of loyalty, there is no representation of empire on the Parthenon frieze or in

52

Herodotus 5.72.1-5.77; Thucydides 6.59; Aristotle Ath. Pol. 20-22.

53

See Ober (1996) 32-52 for a complete discussion of the sources and how the act of Harmodios and Aristogeiton took on the authority of foundation legend for democracy. 54

Pausanias 1.5.

55

Shapiro (1996) 221.

37

other public monuments.56 In his examination of the role of civic ritual as a form of political and social communication, Connor emphasizes the fluid and demanding task of constructing civic identity, particularly one so complex and contradictory as Athenian democratic and imperial identity in the fifth and fourth centuries. It must be, he argues, “constructed and reconstructed in each generation by shared myths, by participation in cults, festivals and ceremonies, and by elaborate techniques of mixing.”57 Although the festival’s reorganization in the sixth century was not altogether apolitical, it was primarily the result of religious and political trends abroad and political developments at home. However, with the advent of democracy and the Cleisthenic reforms, the Panathenaia became an extraordinary instrument of Athenian political and cultural identity formation and manipulation. We will see how highly politicized the procession and even the topography of the Panathenaia were. Second to the procession, the most political aspect of the Panathenaia were the tribal events, in which Athenian males performed their citizenship, and among these events was the pyrrhic dance.58 In vase painting and on the Parthenon frieze, the sacrificial victims, their herders, and those who would be directly involved with the sacrifice, form the core of the procession.59 While the procession surely increased in size along with Athens’ prominence, a number of Attic vases 56

IG I2 66: the Kleinias Decree. See Shapiro (1996) 222 for the invisibility of empire in the iconography of Athens’ public monuments. 57

Connor (1994) 41.

58

Neils (1994) 151-152 and Anderson (2003) 164-167 doubt the existence of tribal contests prior to Cleisthenes’ tribal reforms, particularly because visual evidence for them does not appear until around the time of the reforms. However, I think it not unreasonable to suggest that perhaps the tribal events were not so much invented in the Cleisthenic era, as they were (like the festival itself some fifty years before) formalized into the new political divisions. 59

Shear (2001) 164.

38

attests to the participation of hoplites, cavalry, kanephoroi, musicians, and officials, along with the sacrificial animals, as early as 560 to 550 BCE.60 The peplos presents us with a bit of difficulty. In the Euthyphro, Socrates asks: Καὶ πόλεμον ἆρα ἡγῇ σὺ εἶναι τῷ ὄντι ἐν τοῖς θεοῖς πρὸς ἀλλήλους, καὶ ἔχθρας γε δεινὰς καὶ μάχας καὶ ἄλλα τοιαῦτα πολλά, οἷα λέγεταί τε ὑπὸ τῶν ποιητῶν, καὶ ὑπὸ τῶν ἀγαθῶν γραφέων τά τε ἄλλα ἱερὰ ἡμῖν καταπεποίκιλται, καὶ δὴ καὶ τοῖς μεγάλοις Παναθηναίοις ὁ πέπλος μεστὸς τῶν τοιούτων ποικιλμάτων ἀνάγεται εἰς τὴν ἀκρόπολιν; So you think that there was in fact a war among the gods and terrible hostilities and battles and many other such things as are told of by the poets and wrought by the great artists in our temples, particularly during the Great Panathenaia, the peplos, full of such ornamentation is brought to the Acropolis (6b-c)? No precise description of what was woven remains, but in Attic vase painting, Zeus is conventionally depicted stepping into his chariot in which Herakles is already stationed, while Athena fights on foot beside the chariot.61 In Aristophanes’ Knights, the chorus praise their fathers as “men worthy of the land and of the peplos” (565-568), while in the Birds Euelpides asks, “Who will be our guardian? For whom shall we weave the peplos?” (826-828).62 The gift of the peplos, woven with Athena’s aristeia in the Gigantomachy, seems to have had strong cultic and civic significance for Athenians. The scope, if not the inclusiveness, of the festival predates the democratic reforms of the late sixth century. The procession secondarily, but significantly, advertised the power of 60

Niarchos Collection A O31 a black figure band cup showing a procession of kanephoroi, auletes, kitharistai, hoplites, and cavalry approaching a flaming altar at which stands Athena in helmet, with shield and aegis; Akropolis Museum 607 an a black figure dinos depicting a procession between the Gigantomachy and Athena and Zeus. 61

The Gigantomachy emerges in Attic vase painting in the 560s. See Vian (1952) 95-101. For the selection process and the officials involved, see Shear (2001) 178-180. 62

On the decoration of the peplos with the Gigantomachy, see Plato Euthyphro 6b7-c4; scholia on Euripides Hecuba 469; scholia on Plato Republic 1.327a. For guardian, Aristophanes uses poliouchos, one of the epithets of the Mycenaean Athena of the citadel.

39

democratic Athens; in it marched citizens of elite and non-elite status, as well as metics, women, children, and freed slaves. Consequently, its inclusiveness has been interpreted as a genuine reflection of Athenian democratic principles.63 Commencing at sunrise from the Kerameikos, the procession moved along the Sacred Way, through the Agora and to the Acropolis.64 The route seems to have been the same in archaic and classical times, but after the establishment of democracy, the route through the Agora would expressly, as Shear points out, “activate its monuments:” the Royal Stoa where the laws of Solon were displayed; the Stoa Poikile which commemorated the victory at Marathon; and in the middle of the Agora, the eponymous heroes and the statues of the tyrannicides Harmodius and Aristogeiton. 65 The course of the Panathenaic procession underscores not only Athenian military and democratic history, but also the urban character of this festival. The Panathenaic procession began only steps outside the city wall, to move through the Agora, the civic center of the city, with its goal the temple of Athena Polias and the religious center of Athens. Not just in its constituency, but also in its topography, the procession constructed, displayed and celebrated Athens. The competitive portion of the program was also impressive. The musical and athletic competitions, modeled on those of Olympia, Delphi, Isthmia and Nemea, were open to all musicians and athletes from Greece.66 The prizes at Athens were of considerable value. In the 63

On democratic inclusiveness, see Neils (1992) 13-15; while this inclusiveness is typically understood as a function of Athenian democracy, Maurizio (1998) 297-317, however, observes that the class distinctions that were part of Athenian practice were, in fact, reflected in the hierarchical organization of the procession. See also Parke (1977) 193 nn 24-25; Shapiro (1996) 221. 64

On the marshaling of the procession in the Kerameikos see Thucycides 6.562-571.3, Plutarch Demetrios 12.3, and Pausanias 1.2.4; on its course through the Agora, see Aeschines Miltiades P. Oxy. 2889. 65

Shear (2001) 124. Shapiro (1996) 222; Shear (2001) 124. For the Royal Stoa, see Pausanias 1.31.1-2; for the eponymous heroes, 1.3, and for the statues of Harmodios and Aristogeiton, 1.5. 66

For non-Athenian victors at Athens, see Pindar Nem. 10.33-36, 4.19; Ol. 7.82, 9.88, 13.38-39; Isth. 2.20, 4.25.

40

musical contests (singing, flute and kithara playing) gold crowns and silver were awarded for first place, and anywhere from 100 to 1200 drachmas for second to fifth place. Victors in the athletic and equestrian competitions were awarded amphoras of the sacred olive oil of Athena.67 Known as Panathenaic amphoras, the vessels had two decorative panels, one depicting the event for which the prize was awarded, and the obverse depicting Athena, to the left of whom was inscribed: TŌN ATHENETHEN ATHLŌN, “from the games at Athens.”68 The extravagance of the prizes no doubt was an incentive for athletes, horsemen, and musicians from all over the Mediterranean world to come to Athens, and the prizes themselves served both to honor the victor and his city while publicizing Athens and her wealth abroad.69 Also publicizing Athens and her citizens were the tribal events, competitive displays of military prowess limited to Athenian citizens. While the prizes for the tribal events are less extravagant than those awarded the victors in the open games, they are not insignificant: a bull and one hundred drachmas would pay for a sacrifice to the goddess and a tribal feast, an award likely intended to promote tribal identity and solidarity.70

67

Sometimes a significant number of amphoras, e.g., 50 for first place in the boys’ stadion (l. 24 IG 22 2311) and 60 for the youths’ stadion (l. 39). 68

Cf. Aristotle Ath. Pol. 60.5. On the production of the prize amphoras, see Neils (1992), 29-51; Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 466-474. 69

Kyle (1996) 106-136 suggests that the material nature of the prizes in the Panathenaia was intended to set the festival apart from the periodos, the other Panhellenic games at Olympia, Nemea, Delphi, and Isthmia, where the prizes were of a symbolic nature. 70

The bottom part of the inscription is missing, but Neils (1992) 15-16 suggests the apobates.

41

B. The Tribal Events The Panathenaic prize list IG II2 2311 alludes to the military nature of the tribal events, the prizes for which are inscribed “prizes for the warriors.” These prizes are nikēteria, while the prizes for the non-Athenian victors are athla. Restricted to Athenian citizens and organized by the ten Cleisthenic tribes, the events and their prizes are as follows: Horse race: victor 16 amphoras of oil; 2nd prize 4 amphoras of oil Two-horse chariot race: victor 30 amphoras of oil; 2nd prize 6 amphoras of oil Two-horse chariot procession: victor 4 amphoras of oil; 2nd prize 1 amphora of oil Spear throw from horseback: victor 5 amphoras of oil; 2nd prize 1 amphora of oil Boys’ (paides) pyrrhichē: bull and 100 drachmas Youths’ (ageneioi) pyrrhichē: bull and 100 drachmas Men’s (andres) pyrrhichē: bull and 100 drachmas Euandria: winning tribe a bull and 100 drachmas Torch race: winning tribe a bull and 100 drachmas; individual victor a water jar and 30 drachmas Boat race: winning tribe 3 bulls, 300 drachmas, and 200 free meals; second prize 2 bulls and 200 drachmas71

The tribal events have alternately been described as the most ancient of the festival, with possible origins in funeral games or hero cults, and as late sixth-century constructs of the Cleisthenic democratic tribal reforms.72 Certainly, these events became the means and expression of tribal

71

Neils (1992) 15; Miller (2004) 138; Ceccarelli (1998) 32.

72

On their antiquity, Neils (1992) 20; Boegehold (1996) 97-98; Kyle (1992) 89-96; see also Antonaccio (1998) 4672 for the possible connection with hero cults. For the pyrrhichē as the original event at the Panathenaia, see Cairns (1983) 33.

42

tribal solidarity in democratic Athens, and it is no coincidence that the festival’s organization reflected the new tribal military organization and the new citizen army.73 However, it is difficult to argue for either antiquity or complete innovation with any sure foothold, nor is either stance very reasonable. Yet several general considerations about the nature of local and traditional competitive forms may help to direct us toward what is most probable. First, Cleisthenic reforms surely impacted the festival format, and the exclusively Athenian tribal competitions are the most obvious result of the reforms. However, the events themselves, given their militaristic nature, are more likely traditional and local forms rather than complete Cleisthenic inventions, as Anderson suggests.74 It makes more sense that such events as the weapon dance, torch race, and chariot jumping were already in some form part of the Athenian festival experience, and that they were manipulated to reflect and reinforce the new tribal divisions. Furthermore, as traditional competitive forms, they would be the kind of events most easily adapted to reflect and express the new political organization.75 In short, the tribal events would not need to be invented, but simply re-invented to accommodate the new circumstances. In all likelihood, these traditional and local forms were refashioned and expanded to reflect the new Athenian democracy and tribal solidarity. Events not attested prior to the prize list have been seen as later additions that reflected and advertised the prominence of the Athenian cavalry and navy, among them the tribal equestrian events and the boat races.76 Torch races, however, seem to have been very popular in

73

Anderson (2001) 37.

74

Ibid., 170-174.

75

Miller (1995) 148.

76

The equestrian events as tribal events are not attested earlier than IG II2 2311. The anthippasia, though not on the program on IG II2 2311, is attested as a tribal contest in the fourth and third centuries. See Kyle (1987) 190. Boat

43

Athens and were part of other Athenian festivals, such as the Prometheia and the Hephaestia.77 The archon basileus was in charge of all torch races, so the event had a distinctly sacral aspect and may have been quite ancient, possibly even part of the older, annual celebration.78 The race also clearly demanded a certain amount of athleticism.79 Runners who were out of shape, like pyrrhichēists who were out of shape, were targets for Aristophanes’ wit. Aeschylus in the Frogs complains that no one is fit enough to run in the torch race anymore, and then describes an overweight and pale runner in the Panathenaia.80 The euandria, the contest in manly excellence, remains an enigma. Athenaeus, the only ancient source on the subject, describes a beauty contest in Elis in honor of Athena, in which the winner received weapons as prizes, was adorned with ribbons by friends, and led the procession to the temple.81 Neils has identified a number of vase depictions in which young men, accompanied by Nike, are decked out in ribbons, one of which is inscribed with ho pais kalos.82 This is by far the most convincing assessment of the meager sources. Yet Boegehold proposes that the euandria was rather a cyclic chorus, identifying the robed figures on the left portion of

races seem to have been part of the Posideia; see Lysias 21.5 and Herodotus 6.87, and were attested elsewhere. Dio Chrys. Or. Cor. 37 tells us that the boat races were in the first Isthmian Games. 77

For torch races in the Hephaestaia, Pausanias 1.30.2 and Herodotus 8.98; in the Prometheia as a tribal event, Ps. Xen. Ath. Pol. 3.4 and Isaeus 7.36. See also Deubner (1959) 211-213; Parke (1977) 23, 37, 45-46; Simon (1983) 53-54, 63-64. 78

Aristotle Ath. Pol. 57.1. On the torch races at the Small Panathenaia, see Simon (1983) 63-64. As a sacral and athletic event, see Kyle (1987) 190. 79

Kyle (1987) 191.

80

Aristophanes” Frogs 1087-1098.

81

Athenaeus 13.565-610a

.

82

Neils (1994) 154-157.

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the Atarbos Base as a victorious dithyrambic chorus.83 All that we can, with certainty, say about the euandria is that it was liturgical, tribal, and that it is not clearly attested for the Small Panathenaia.84 While the prize in IG II2 2311 was a bull and 100 drachmas, in the 330s prizes for the euandria were shields.85 Perhaps Athenaeus is reliable after all, and the event remains enigmatic because our modern sensibilities cannot contemplate a competition for male beauty among events of a military nature. The apobates is considered by some, along with the pyrrhichē, the most antique of the tribal events, as well as a local phenomenon.86 It was very likely part of the program inscribed on IG II2 2311, though the bottom portion below the boat race, where it might have been included, is missing. But the event is clearly attested in this period by two reliefs from the early fourth century in which apobates are depicted next to moving four-horse chariots.87 In this event a hoplite mounts and descends from a moving chariot, perhaps finishing the race on foot.88 Its militarily anachronistic nature has led some to conclude that it recalled the traditions of Homeric warfare or was a vestige of some hero cult, and that it formed the core of events in the annual Panathenaia.89 From the inclusion of the apobates in the Parthenon Frieze, we can say that it

83

Boegeheld (1996) 101-103. Supra n. 46.

84

The euandria as a liturgy: Andokides 4.42; as tribal: IG II2 3022.1-5.

85

Aristotle Ath. Pol. 60.3.

86

Neils (1992) 20; Boegehold (1996) 97-98; Kyle (1992) 89-96; Robertson (1985) 237-238; Shear (2001) 40-42 points to Athena as apobates in vase depictions of the Gigantomachy, as well as the tradition of Erichthonius as the founder of the chariot; Harpokration s.v. apobates tells us it was practiced only among the Athenians and Boeotians. 87

SEG XXI 695 = Agora Excavations S 399; Akropolis Museum 1326. See also Plutarch Phokion 20.1-3 for the victory of Phokion”s son Phokos in the apobates. Dated to 334/3 by Shear (2001) 168. 88

Dion. Hal. Roman Antiquities 7.73 describes a foot race to the finish.

89

Gardiner (1910) 237-238; Parke (1977) 43; Kyle (1992) 80.

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was part of the fifth-century Panathenaia. However, the event is not attested for the annual Panathenaia, nor does it appear in vase painting until the late sixth century, around the time of the Cleisthenic tribal reforms. This does not necessarily mean that it was not part of the annual Panathenaia, since only a few pieces of evidence tell us anything of the annual festival, but one can see why it has been suggested that the apobates was invented for the Greater Panathenaia.90

C. The Pyrrhichē Like the apobates, the pyrrhichē seemed to preserve a tradition of ancient and aristocratic warfare. Unlike the apobates, however, the pyrrhichē is attested in the Small Panathenaia.91 Moreover, from the earliest datable reference to its performance in the Panathenaia, in which Just Speech compares the current generation of pyrrhicists to his own generation, we may infer that earlier generations of young Athenian men were performing the strenuous dance.92 The chorus of young men to whom Just Speech alludes might well be in the age class of the ageneioi, as attested in IG II2 2311, 73. In the fifth and fourth century, then, pyrrhic choruses in both Small and Great Panathenaia were classified by age: (IG II2 2311, lines 72-74): boys (paides), beardless young men/youths (ageneioi), and men (andres).93 This has led Ceccarelli to suggest that the pyrrhic choruses were not tribal and that, moreover, the age classification is evidence of the

90

Anderson (2003) 168-170.

91

Lysias 21.5; Atarbos Base IG II2 3025 = Akropolis Museum 1338.

92

Aristophanes Clouds 985-988, produced in 423.

93

IG II2 2311, 72-74; Lysias 21.1-4 where, among the defendant’s public liturgies are a pyrrhichē chorus in the Great Panathenaia (panathenaiois tois megalois) in 410/9 and a young men’s pyrrhic chorus in the Small Panathenaia (panathenaiois tois mikrois) in 404/3.

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pyrrhichē’s antiquity.94 While she is likely correct to associate age classification with the antiquity of the pyrrhichē, this does not necessarily imply that the choruses were not organized along tribal lines, as well. First, they are listed among the tribal events. Furthermore, they were produced liturgically and, by the time of IG II2 2311, it was likely that the phylai put forward their choices for choregoi, as they had been doing for the dithyrambic choruses since the Cleisthenic reforms.95 Finally, there is no reason to believe that the preservation of the traditional age classification (if that is indeed what it was) and the organization along tribal lines were mutually exclusive. Of all the tribal events, the pyrrhichē is the most abundantly attested on Attic black- and red-figure vases, which begin around 510 BCE.96 Unfortunately, no actual pyrrhic competitions are represented on the vases; rather, the vases depict pyrrhicists practicing in the palaestra. They are identified by helmet, spear, shield, nudity, the presence of a flute player, and a chlamys (cloak) on a stool.97 Typically only one or two pyrrhicists are depicted, and when there are two they are never facing one another as though in combat.98 Consequently, the vase representations tell us nothing of the number of dancers in a pyrrhic chorus. However, three fourth-century 94

Ceccarelli (2004) 95-99 also connects the age-group classification with a prehistoric association with the Apatouria and initiation rituals. However, there is no evidence that the pyrrhichē was ever performed in connection with this festival, or with any other festival for Artemis in Athens proper. But, see SEG 34 (1984) 103 for a late fourth century BCE decree honoring the choregos of a pyrrhichē in honor of Artemis Tauropolis in Euboea. 95

Wilson (2000) 51-53.

96

Poursat (1968), 550-615.

97

Ibid.,566-573; 580-583. Poursat distinguishes armed warriors in the presence of a flute player as dancing in a funerary procession (564); Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 468. Sometimes weapon dancers used two shields, as in Xen. An. 6.1. On the use of a single offensive weapon in armed dances, and particularly the use of the spear by Athenian pyrrhichēists, see Downes (1904) 103-105, who argues from primarily literary evidence, but whose conclusions are supported by a survey of visual evidence by Poursat (1968) 558-63; on the regional and divine association of the single weapon, see Wheeler (1982), 226-227. The sword was the weapon of the telesias: Athen. 14.27.1, 14.27.37, 2.133.30; Hesychius 412.1; Pollux 4.99.2; as well, Wheeler (1982) 227 thinks, of the Mantinean weapon dance. 98

Poursat (1968) 582.

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Athenian victory dedications show us victorious choruses. The Atarbos base, a victory monument dated to 323/322, depicts eight pyrrhicists. 99 Found near the Beulé gate, this low relief base depicts two groups of four beardless men, facing the same direction (left), with heads slightly tilted downward; their right legs are forward and straight with the left leg bent and the left foot en pointe, suggesting perhaps a “promachos pose” of Athena.100 The young men hold round hoplite shields in their raised left arms while their right arms are slightly back and bent with fists clenched, as though around a weapon. To the left of the pyrrhichēists is a robed female figure, identified as the personification of the phylē.101 Another fourth-century dedication from the Acropolis memorializes the victory of a boys’ pyrrhic chorus in the Greater Panathenaia of 370/69.102 What remains of this severely damaged monument depicts three pyrrhicists; two are walking, facing left, the first carrying on his shoulders a third pyrrhicist. The lower halves of the walking dancers’ bodies are lost, and the torso and face of the dancer carried on his teammate’s shoulders are damaged. All three are naked but for helmets, though the second walking pyrrhicist and the carried aloft hold round shields in their left hands and spears in their right. The inscription, carved around the dancer

99

IG II2 3025 = Acrop. Mus. 1338; the base is in two pieces; the left side depicts seven adult males draped in himatia and the inscription identifies a victory in a cyclical chorus. Boegehold (1996) 97-102 sees this as a possible victory dedication for the euandria, offering a new interpretation of that event. Cyclical choruses organized tribally are not otherwise attested, though they were part of the annual Panathenaia (Lysias 21.1-2). Also see Wilson (2001) 39-40. For the dating of the base, see Shear (2003). For a detailed discussion of the form, function and rhetoric of memorialized victories, see Wilson (2000) 206-262. 100

Aeschylus Eumenides 294; see Borthwick (1969) 385-388 who connects this description of the forward foot with the aggressive poses of Athena in the Gigantomachy. For representations of Athena in the Gigantomachy, see Vian (1952) 56-68, 131ff. On Athena Promachos, see Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 467-469. 101

Shear (2003) 165. This was long thought to be a male figure representing the victorious choregos.

102

SEG 23 no. 103 – Athens Nat. Mus. No. 3854; cf. Poursat (1969); Wilson (2001) 236-237. Dated by Shear (2001) 326 to the 370s.

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who is carried in triumph is also damaged, but does reveal that the chorus of boys was victorious in the Great Panathenaia.103 Finally, a Roman copy of the Xenocles Base, the original severely damaged, provides us with yet another fourth-century victory dedication and perhaps even some idea as to how the pyrrhic chorus danced.104 It depicts six pyrrhicists, the two on the end and the two in the middle facing outward, while the remaining two (both next from last on each end) face the two innermost dancers. Their round shields are raised and their spear hands are back, though not raised. What is discernible and notable on both the original and the copy are the feet of the dancers. Both feet are en pointe, barely touching the ground, which implies either the beginning or the end of a leap.105 Among a few of the schēmata (dance movements or poses) we can, with some certainty, attribute to the pyrrhic dance, the leap is among them. Although Plato’s pyrrhichē in the Laws must be approached judiciously, in general terms, it is safe to say that the dance involved leaping as a choreographic element.106 In Euripides’ Andromache, the messenger who reports Neoptolemus’ death to Peleus describes the hero’s “wicked pyrrhics” and his “Trojan leap,” that scattered his enemies like little pigeons when a hawk is spied near.107 Another schēma, attested in the visual evidence, as well as in Aristophanes’ Clouds (988), is the Tritogeneia, or the “Athena move,” in which the head is turned away from the general direction 103

Poursat (1969) 103; Wilson (2001) 236-237.

104

Xenokles Base Akropolis Museum 6465 (402a); the copy is in the Vatican Museum (no catalogue number). See Ceccarelli (1998) 36, 154, 224; Shear (2001) 326 identifies the victorious choregos Xenokles as the same Xenokles victorious in the torch race of the Great Panathenaia IG II2 3019 in 346/45. 105

Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 468.

106

Plato Laws 814d-815a.

107

Euripides Andromache 1135-1141; see also Borthwick (1967) 18-23 who finds in this “Trojan leap” corroboration for Pyrrhus (Neoptolemus) or his father Achilles as the original pyrrhicist.

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of movement, effecting a startling contrast, a schēma identified by Ferrari-Pinney as representative of Athena dancing the pyrrhichē. 108 From the position of the legs in the vase paintings and dedications, the dancers engage in lunging, dodging, leaping, and crouching. Theoretically, they would move in synchronicity with one another and, would also display tension and alignment of the limbs, which in dance terminology is called opposition, the oppositional movement of the limbs. For example, the right arm held back and the left arm held forward create a straight and diagonal line; the legs, as well, follow similar diagonally opposed lines. There is no literary testimony for the number of pyrrhic dancers in a chorus, but the number of pyrrhicists shown on the victory bases ranges from three to eight, and the number of chorus members may have varied in practice, as well. The victory bases are our sole evidence for the number of pyrrhicists, and yet these may be more symbolic, rather than actual, representations. There are eight pyrrhicists on the Atarbos Base, three on the Athens Base; there seem to have been more, perhaps ten, on the Xenokles Base. None of the literary evidence mentions the number of choristers or whether there was a minimum or maximum number of them.109 In its ritual and civic context, the Athenian pyrrhichē was performed solely by males, in three age classes and by tribe, at both the annual and quadrennial Panathenaic festivals. They danced in the nude, except for helmets, with a round shield in the left hand and the spear in the right. Although we can be certain only that pyrrhicists practiced to the accompaniment of the 108

Borthwick (1970), 329-330. See also Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 468-469, who notes that in archaic vase paintings, Athena is typically depicted with her head to the right, signifying victory in battle. Pollux 5.24. Turning the head to avoid a blow is represented with some regularity in fifth-century vase paintings of the pyrrhichē: Poursat (1968) 533. On the comedic sources for the signature head-turn of the Athenian pyrrhichē, see Borthwick (1970) 318-331, esp. 320. On the leap, also see Borthwick (1967): 18-23. On the Athenian pyrrhichē, see Downes (1904): 101-106. In the Panathenaic amphoras, however, her head turns abruptly left, in sharp contrast to the movement of her body. 109

Cf. Poursat (1967) 102-110.

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aulos, it makes sense that they performed to its accompaniment, as well. For the tune and the mode, however, we know very little, and our sources are rather late. The mode of music was likely Dorian, a traditional mode that seems to have been very versatile, stately, and manly.110 While Aristophanes speaks of a kat’enoplion rhythm, as does Xenophon, what that rhythm was is lost to us.111 And since the music is lost, it is necessary to assume a martial mode and rhythm, with a tempo that varied.112 We have no evidence that the Athenian pyrrhicists sang as they danced, as those who performed the weapon dance for the Dioscuri in Sparta.113 The pyrrhichē, like all other choruses in democratic Athens, was produced as a liturgy.114 The choregos would have paid for the costs involved in training and producing the chorus, as well as a victory monument.115 An Athenian boy, if chosen by the choregos, would learn the pyrrhichē in the same place he would take physical instruction in athletics: in the palaestra or gymnasium. In vase painting, as we have seen, the chlamys on a stool implies a pyrrhicist in training in the palaestra.116 For Panathenaic pyrrhic competitions, a choregos was more likely to choose chorus members with previous training and skill, chorus members that are more likely to

110

See Anderson (1966) 42-44; West (1992) 179-180; cf. Plato Republic 399a3-c4; Laches 188d, 193d; Epistle 7.336c on the Dorian mode of music mirroring the model man who acts courageously in battle and in life. 111

Aristophanes Clouds 651; Xenophon Anabasis 6.1.2.

112

Ceccarelli (1998) 165-175.

113

Athenaeus 630ff describes the Spartans singing and dancing to Tyrtaeus’ battle songs. That the pyrrhichē may have been danced without poetry sets it apart from the pure form of choreia, which is text-driven, but also may attest to its antiquity. 114

Isaeus 36.2-3; Lysias 21.1-4.

115

Wilson (2000) 71 on the responsibilities of the choregos.

116

Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 468.

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win honor for the tribe.117 Although it was entirely possible that a talented pyrrhicist might hail from a working class family, in all probability the dancers would come from families who could afford private teachers to groom competitive dancers.118 References to choral training are few and mostly late; Plutarch and Athenaeus tell us that boys would learn dance moves and figures in the palaestra from paidotribae.119 The physical training of a young Athenian depended upon the ability of the father to pay for his son's training, upon professional teachers of athletics, the pyrrhic dance, or warfare techniques, and the ability of a choregos to provide adequate training.120 Although the pyrrhichē was a warrior dance, it is widely acknowledged that the Athenian weapon dance did not train young men for hoplite warfare. By the fifth century, teachers of hoplomachia (fighting in arms) were rather common, and by the end of the fourth century training in arms was part of the ephebeia.121 Whatever the pyrrhichē’s origins or original function, its significance for the Panathenaia was highly symbolic. Whoever danced the pyrrhichē was not simply performing a dance for Athena; he was performing the dance of Athena and, by extension, the dance of Athens.

117

Wilson (2000) 76-78.

118

On the recruitment of dancers in Athens and the likelihood that the most talented dancers would hail from families of the same economic status as the choregos, see Wilson (2000) 75-76; see also Pritchard (2001) 8-9 who suggests that dithyrambic choristers likely hailed from the well-to-do families. He emphasizes the time constraints choric training would involve, as well as a choregos’ philonikia in his recruitment of choristers. On female pyrrhicists in the private, sympotic context, see Ceccarelli (1998) 60-67. In Xenophon”s Anabasis 6.1, the flute girl dances a pyrrhichē. 119

Plutarch Quaes. Conv. 9.15.1; Athenaeus 631a-c.

120

Strauss (1993) 89-94; Golden (1990) 63-68.

121

Plato Euthydemus 273c; Wheeler (1982) 224-225; Winkler (1990) 26-28.

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D. Athena as Pyrrhicist In Book Seven of the Laws the Athenian Stranger provides examples of armed dances appropriate for the young of the ideal city to learn and to perform: οὐδ' ὅσα ἐν τοῖς χοροῖς ἐστιν αὖ μιμήματα προσήκοντα μιμεῖσθαι παρετέον, κατὰ μὲν τὸν τόπον τόνδε Κουρήτων ἐνόπλια παίγνια, κατὰ δὲ Λακεδαίμονα Διοσκόρων. ἡ δὲ αὖ που παρ' ἡμῖν κόρη καὶ δέσποινα, εὐφρανθεῖσα τῇ τῆς χορείας παιδιᾷ, κεναῖς χερσὶν οὐκ ᾠήθη δεῖν ἀθύρειν πανοπλίᾳ δὲ παντελεῖ κοσμηθεῖσα, οὕτω τὴν ὄρχησιν διαπεραίνειν· ἃ δὴ πάντως μιμεῖσθαι πρέπον ἂν εἴη κόρουςτε ἅμα καὶ κόρας, τὴν τῆς θεοῦ χάριν τιμῶντας, πολέμου τ' ἐν χρείᾳ καὶ ἑορτῶν ἕνεκα. We should not pass over what sorts of representations in dance it would be fitting to imitate, such as the armed games of the Kouretes right here [Crete], and those of the Dioscuri in Sparta; and of course, our [Athens’] maid and mistress, enjoying herself in the sport of dance, did not think it fitting to play with empty hands, but to perform the dance decked out in full armor – which it would be altogether fitting for boys, as well as girls, to imitate in honor of the goddess’ gift, for its usefulness in war, and for festivals (796b3-c4). Though not explicitly named in this passage, the dance of Athens’ maid and mistress is the armed dance, the pyrrhichē, and the games in which it is performed are the Panathenaic festivals. We recall Socrates’ etymological explanation of Athena’s epithet Pallas in the Cratylus (406d10407a1). He maintains that it derives from the armed dance, because “to raise something in the hands and to raise oneself (πάλλειν τε καὶ πάλλεσθαι), is what we call to make dance and to dance (ὀρχεῖν καὶ ὀρχεῖσθαι).”122 Athena is a dancer. According to Athenian one tradition, she is the pyrrhicist par excellence. At two defining moments she is said to have danced the pyrrhichē. When Zeus’ head was split open by Hephaestus’ axe, Athena leaped forth in full armor, brandishing a spear in one hand and shaking a shield in the other and, according to Pindar, issuing forth such a terrible 122

One might translate ὀρχεῖσθαι as “to represent by dancing.”

53

shout, that both heaven and earth shuddered at its force.123 Lucian, writing much later, tells us this is the pyrrhic dance: ἡ δὲ πηδᾷ καὶ πυρριχίζει καὶ τὴν ἀσπίδα τινάσσει καὶ τὸ δόρυ πάλλει καὶ ἐνθουσιᾷ καὶ τὸ μέγιστον, καλὴ πάνυ καὶ ἀκμαία γεγένηται δὴ ἐν βραχεῖ· she leaps and dances the pyrrhichē, shakes her shield and raises her spear in excitement and, most important, she is born in an instant, fair and fully formed.124 The goddess’ birth enters the repertoire of Attic vase painting around the 560s, around the time of the reorganization of the Greater Panathenaia.125 Athena is typically depicted emerging, armed and energetic, from the head of Zeus, who is sitting. The goddess holds aloft a round shield in her left hand, and in her right hand raises up her spear as if about to attack; a leap, according to the convention in Attic vase painting, is indicated by the position of the legs, with the left leg forward, often up and with bent knee, and the right leg back, usually in a kick. She faces right, the direction in which a victorious warrior typically moves.126 While her pose certainly resembles that of pyrrhicists in vase paintings and while Lucian may have been drawing on a classical source, there is no classical testimony connecting her leap at birth with the pyrrhichē.

123

On her armed leap from Zeus’ head, Stesichorus is said to be the first to mention it: Page PMG 56 (233); cf. P.Oxy. 2260 ii, 11-24; schol. Apollonius Rhod. IV. 1310; Hesiod Theogony 885 and 924-926 does not mention the armor, though in another recension of lines 924-929t Chrysippus (in Galen) has the goddess born in arms; in the Homeric Hymn to Athena 28.4-16, the goddess shakes a sharp spear, overwhelming the earth, sea, and sun; Pindar Olympian 7.35-39 adds the terrible war cry. See also Apollodorus 1.3.6. Both Pausanias 1.14.6 and Herodotus 4.180.5 report the tradition that Athena was the daughter of Poseidon and Lake Trito. For artistic representations of the birth from Zeus’ head, see Berger (1967) 87; for a discussion of the literary sources, see Borthwick (1969) 386387. 124

Dialogues of the Gods 13.24.

125

Shapiro (1989) 39; also emerging at this time are Panathenaic prize amphorae and vase depictions of the Gigantomachy. On the Panathenaic amphoras, see Neils (1992) 24-27; Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 466; on the emergence of the Gigantomachy in vase painting, see Vian (1952) 246-247. 126

The beginning or end of a leap is indicated by the figure en pointe, with knees slightly bent. Warriors on the verge of victory are typically depicted moving to the right. See Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 468-469.

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If, as Shapiro has suggested, the tradition of Athena’s birth as a mature and fully armed goddess was an Athenian invention, then her pyrrhic leap from Zeus’ head may have been, as well.127 Another tradition identifies Athena’s birthday as the aition for the Panathenaia, yet no ancient testimonia connect her birthday with the Panathenaia. Nor is there any connection in literary or artistic sources between the goddess’ birthday leap and the origins of the pyrrhichē dance.128 The tradition of the Athena’s birthday pyrrhichē, however, would not be entirely incompatible with the other Athenian tradition which not only credits the goddess with being the first to dance the pyrrhichē, but connects her victory pyrrhichē with the gods’ defeat of the Giants, and the origins of the Panathenaia. Aristotle, cited by a scholion on Aelius Aristides, tells us that the Panathenaia was established after the defeat of the Giant Aster.129 Dionysius of Halicarnassus, writing significantly later, reports that one possible origin for the pyrrhic dance was Athena’s epinikia following the gods’ victory over the Giants:130 Ελληνικὸν δ' ἄρα καὶ τοῦτ' ἦν ἐν τοῖς πάνυ παλαιὸν ἐπιτήδευμα, ἐνόπλιος ὄρχησις ἡ καλουμένη πυρρίχη, εἴτ Ἀθηνᾶς πρώτης ἐπὶ Τιτάνων ἀφανισμῷ χορεύειν καὶ ὀρχεῖσθαι σὺν τοῖς ὅπλοις τἀπινίκια ὑπὸ χαρᾶς ἀρξαμένης εἴτε παλαίτερον ἔτι Κουρήτων αὐτὴν καταστησαμένων, ὅτε τὸν Δία τιθηνούμενοι θέλγειν 127

Shapiro (1989) 39-40; the iconography of the birth in full armor is limited to Attic vase painting.

128

On Athena’s birthday as aition for the festival, see Deubner (1932) 23; Parke (1977) 33; Simon (1983) 55; Neils (1992) 14-15. For Achilles as the first pyrrhichēist, see Aristotle Fragment 519; Athenaeus 14.530e and Strabo 10.467 tell us of an eponymous Cretan, Pyrrhichēhus; for Neoptolemus/Pyrrhus as the author, see Archilochus Frag 304 (West); cf Hesychius 4464 s.v. pyrrhichizein; Euripides Andromache 1129-1136; and especially Borthwick (1967). πυῤῥιχίζειν· τὴν ἐνόπλιον ὄρχησιν καὶ σύντονον πυῤῥίχην ἔλεγον· οἱ μὲν ἀπὸ Πυῤῥίχου τοῦ Κρητός· οἱ δὲ ἀπὸ τοῦ διάπυρον εἶναι· οἱ δὲ ἀπὸ Πύῤῥου τοῦ Ἀχιλλέως. ἐφησθέντα γὰρ τῷ Εὐρυπύλου φόνῳ ὀρχήσασθαί φησιν Ἀρχίλοχος· ὅθεν καὶ ὁ πυῤῥίχιος ποὺς ὠνομάσθη 129

Schol. Aristides Panathenaicus 189.4 (Fr. 637 Rose): τὰ Παναθήναια ἐπὶ Ἀστέρι τῷ γίγαντι ὑπὸ Αθηναίων ἀναιρεθέντα. Another scholion adds that it was Erichthonius who established the Small Panathenaia in honor of Athena’s victory. 130

Or earlier, when the Couretes were guarding and entertaining the newborn Zeus: Rom. Ant. 7.72.7-8; Dionysius mistakenly writes Titanomachy for Gigantomachy. On the regularity with which the Giants and the Titans were confused by ancients, see Vian (1952) 173-174; also Borthwick (1969) 389 and Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 471. In describing a performance of the Greco-Roman pyrrhichē, Dionysius acknowledges the dance”s antiquity.

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ἐβούλοντο κτύπῳ τε ὅπλων καὶ κινήσει μελῶν ἐνρύθμῳ καθάπερ ὁ μῦθος ἔχει. This was, in fact, an ancient Greek practice – that is, the armed dance called the pyrrhichē - whether it was Athena who first began to lead dancers and to dance in arms over the destruction of the Titans to celebrate the victory from joy, or whether even earlier the Kouretes introduced it when, acting as nurses to Zeus, they wanted to charm him with the clashing of arms and the rhythmic movement of their limbs, as the story goes (Rom. Ant. 7.72.7-8). The Gigantomachy, like Athena’s birth, appears in Attic vase painting in the 560s, and Athena is one of the prominent figures.131 She is typically grouped with Zeus and Herakles, often fighting beside their chariots; yet toward the end of the 6th century she is often depicted in single combat with her Giant opponent, Enkelados.132 In such representations, she strides to the right, spear raised for the attack, with shield held high in the conventional pose of a warrior about to engage. However, we do not find any representations that could clearly be identified as the victory pyrrhichē described by Dionysius. Ferrari-Pinney, however, has suggested that the goddess’ victory pyrrhichē is in fact found on the Panathenaic prize amphoras.133 As we have seen, victors of the athletic contests in the Greater Panathenaia were awarded with especially lavish prizes of amphorae containing olive oil from the sacred grove of Athena.134 The figure of Athena on the Panathenaic amphoras has conventionally been grouped with other representations of Athena of the “Promachos” type or

131

Shapiro (1989) 38; the earliest are all from the Acropolis. Gigantomachies abound - there are over four hundred Attic black figure vase paintings in the Beazley archive. Athena is represented in 53 of 87 examples; see Vian (1952) 38-88. Ancient sources for the Gigantomachy: Pindar Pythian 8.15; Apollodorus1.6.1ff.; Apollonius Argonautica.3.233; Ovid Fasti.3.439, 5.11ff.; Metamorphoses.1.151ff., 1.192ff. Pausanias 7.29.3, 8.47.1; Strabo 5.4.4, 6.3.5, 10.5.9, 10.5.16. 132

For Enkelados as Athena’s opponent, see Euripides Ion 209-211; Herakles 908.

133

Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 466.

134

Pindar Nem. 10.31-36; IG II2 2311. On the harvesting of the olives and manufacture of the oil, see Miller (2004) 136-137.

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the statue type, which includes representations of Athena engaged in combat (in which she faces right, the typical direction of warriors engaged in combat), as well as the statue of Pheidias that adorned the Acropolis.135 However, the Athena of the Panathenaic amphoras strides to the left; her right foot is set forward and her left foot back, often en pointe; her spear is raised in her right hand, and her shield is held aloft in the left, near her waistline.136 Ferrari-Pinney has challenged convention and sees in the Panathenaic amphorae the narrative moment of Athena’s epinikia. Both readings present difficulties.137 However, if the Panathenaic Athena is not dancing the pyrrhichē, Ferrari-Pinney is surely correct to associate the goddess’ prominent role in the Gigantomachy with the origins of both Panathenaia and pyrrhichē and to attribute to both the theme of victory.138 Although mythological narratives in vase painting tended to enjoy periods of popularity before giving way to fresh themes, sculptural representations of the Gigantomachy on the Acropolis - on the pediment of the Old Athena Temple (Acropolis Museum 631A) from ca 520 and on the eastern metopes of the Parthenon – were a mainstay of Athenian monumental art.139 As we have seen, the goddess’ peplos, woven anew every year in the Chalkeia and carried in the Panathenaic procession to the Acropolis to adorn the statue of the goddess, was

135

Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 465-466; Neils (1992) 36-39. Herington (1955) 43-47; Neils (1992) 36-38 argues that the image represents not a narrative moment, but rather an outdoor statue of Athena, suggested by the columns that flank her and the cocks that in many of the vases sit atop the columns. 136

There is, of course, variation. See Neils (1996) 32-36 for the development and artistic trends in the paintings of the Panathenaic Athena. 137

No similar cult statue remains on the Acropolis or is mentioned in the sources; however, in the earliest representations, the Panathenaic Athena is shown with both feet planted on the ground. The large stride, however, does imply an action or, as Ferrari-Pinney notes, a narrative moment. 138

Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 466-470. See also Vian (1955) 246-247.

139

See Neils (1992) 18-19; Anderson (2001) 109-111.

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decorated with the Gigantomachy.140 Both pyrrhichē and Panathenaia share the aition of Athena’s victory over the Giants. This connection between the Gigantomachy, the pyrrhichē dance, and the goddess is established in the festival’s uniting themes of victory and its celebration.141 In the patriotic Athenian tradition, the pyrrhic dance was the victory dance of the Athenians because it was the victory dance of their goddess Athena. While it may seem superfluous to recount the goddess’s attributes and spheres of influence, it also may serve to remind us that Athena was, like her festival and her dance, adopted and augmented to reflect and embody an ideology - an Athenian democratic ideology. As a martial deity, Athena is protector (Poliouchos) of the city and goddess of battle.142 But her role exceeds the martial to span all the civilized arts which enable the city to thrive politically and culturally, as well as militarily. Although in epic she delights in the savagery of battle, she evolves into the god of military strategy and battle engaged smartly and under necessity. As Athena Ergane, she is the patron of manual labor and of the female crafts of weaving and wool working, as well as the male crafts of carpentry and pottery.143 The creative inspiration behind the Trojan Horse and the Argo, she has her own list of inventions to her credit: the bridle, the pot, the rake, the plow, the yoke, the ship, and the chariot. She is closely associated with the fine arts of music and dance, having invented the flute and, in one tradition, the pyrrhic chorus. She also has strong associations with athletic competitions and the art of

140

On the peplos and Gigantomachy, see schol. on Aristophanes Knights 566a (II); Suda s.v. peplos; Plato Euthypro 667c4; schol. on Euripides Hecuba 471. 141

Ferrari-Pinney (1988) 473-474; Shear (2001) 31-42.

142

As Poliouchos, Homeric Hymn 11.1; Strabo 9.1.11; as god delighting in battle, Homeric Hymns 5.1 and 11.1.

143

Odyssey 2.115-116; Homeric Hymn 20.2-3; as mother of the arts, Orphic Hymn to Athena 32; for Athena Ergane”s temple on the Panathenaic Way, see Pausanias 1.24.3.

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horsemanship.144 Finally, she is a legislator, a lawmaker. In response to the law of vengeance, she established the homicide court and a system of justice.145 The image that emerges is that of a creative and energetic intelligence equipped to meet every need or demand of the civilized state. She is the complete civic deity, the immortal and ideal citizen - capable of managing a home, a city, of carrying on the traditional religious observance of singing and dancing in a chorus, artistry, and of rising to the challenge of battle when necessary to protect home and city. If she is the complete civic deity, then Athens, her city, is the complete and perfect civic entity. More significantly, her citizens – the boys, youths, and men of Athens – are imagined as the complete warrior-citizens. Nicole Loraux writes, “The Athenian experience of the city cannot be reduced to the empiricism of the political experience so readily attributed to the Greeks; in the polis, as the Athenians of the classical period understood the term, the imaginary occupied a greater place than is usually believed.”146 To dance the pyrrhichē in Athens was not just to dance for Athena during the Panathenaia, but to perform Athena; it was to perform one’s citizenship by emulating the deity of civic excellence. The pyrrhic, like no other dance in the Athenian choral landscape, was the distillation and expression of Athenian citizenship and of the warrior-citizen. It was the national dance of the Athenian male.

144

Iliad 23.388-406 she intervenes on Diomedes’ behalf in the chariot race and on Odysseus’ behalf in the footrace (23.770-783). On her epithet Hippia and having taught the Athenians horsemanship, see Pausanias 1.30.4. 145

Aeschylus Eumenides 681-710.

146

Loraux (1986) 328.

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Conclusions Given the traditional nature of weapon dances, it is reasonable to conclude that the pyrrhichē of Athens was a traditional choral form. The viability of traditional forms of expression depends on their dynamism, their ability to adapt and be adapted to changing circumstances and to take on new significance in a changing landscape. When a traditional form ceases to do so, it is no longer meaningful. The pyrrhichē’s origins may well be associated with hero cult or funerary practices, and very likely are, but beyond that we can prove nothing. Moreover, as Kowalzig observes, traditional choral forms, apart from the dithyramb, were sorely neglected in classical Athens.147 To the dithyramb’s status as a traditional choral form, we must add the pyrrhichē. That the dance became the choral form central to the Athenian tradition of Athena Polias and to her major festival in Athens, attests to its viability as a traditional dance form. So what we can, with some degree of accuracy and insight, understand is the pyrrhichē’s significance in classical Athens, through our understanding of the Panathenaia. Loraux has observed in the official ideology of the funeral oration the inscrutable discourse of the imaginary so instrumental in the construction of Athens and its identity.148 One can observe the same process of identity construction and projection in the classical presentation of the Panathenaia, as well. The procession, particularly through its memorialization on the Parthenon frieze, presents a profoundly inclusive, democratic state. The reality of the procession, however, was one of class-based hierarchy, which more accurately reflects Athenian political life. But in the context of celebration, it is the imaginary that is presented as the real. The tribal events encouraged and projected the image of tribal solidarity and democratic unity. 147

Kowalzig (2004) 41.

148

Loraux (1986) 263-264; 330-336.

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Yet in fourth-century Athens, tribal classification was neither traditional nor ancient. And with the apobates and the pyrrhichē traditionally associated with Athena Polias, the tribal events became a unique, if somewhat artificial, fusion of aristocratic tradition, religion, and democracy. The pyrrhichē was reminiscent of Homeric war tactics, and it provided no practical training for classical hoplite warfare. Yet it became a significant aspect of Athenian performance culture and democratic ideology.149 By virtue of its traditional nature and profoundly close association with Athena and the Panathenaia, the pyrrhichē also became the ceremonial expression of what it meant to be an Athenian citizen, a decidedly male role. And in the classical age, the Athenian citizen was distinguished from the rest of the Greeks, Pericles tells us, not only by his uniquely Athenian democratic constitution, his education, and his freedom and equality under the law, but by his ability to take part in administering his state, his participation in religious observances and festivals, and his genuine courage in time of war.150 Pericles’ Funeral Oration presents a uniform civic excellence that foreshadows the attributes of the ideal citizen contemplated in Plato’s Laws, in which citizens are capable of managing household, state, and of defending home and state when necessary, capable of ruling and being ruled according to law.151 In the Laws we will find the standing army that is idealized in the Funeral Oration, and it will include women as warriors and pyrrhicists and citizens.

149

For example, despite the abolition of intertribal warfare at the turn of the last century, the Samburu warrior dance continued to serve a symbolic purpose, when it no longer served as affective readying for warriors prior to a raid. See Spencer (1985) 140-141. 150

Pericles’ Funeral Oration in Thucydides 2.37 on the constitution and religious observances; 2.40 on participation in running of the state; 2.40 on courage. Later in 2.40 real valor is defined as a partially intellectual process, whereby risks are taken only when understood. For a similar definition, see Plato Laches 197B-199A; see also Laws 633d where moderation is considered part of andreia. 151

Plato Laws 666e-667a.

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The pyrrhichē was a traditional Athenian dance, perhaps even before it was the dance of Athena; but it became the dance of the Athenian citizen by means of the discourse of the imaginary: every pyrrhicist in the classical Panathenaia was an Athenian citizen, but not every Athenian citizen would become a pyrrhicist. As a traditional dance, the pyrrhichē was initially an aristocratic form of display and competition. While the Cleisthenic tribal reforms certainly must have created greater opportunities for non-elite citizens to perform in tribal pyrrhic choruses, we must keep in mind that a chorēgos would seek a competitive edge by selecting dancers with prior training, and the boys and young men most likely to have enjoyed such training (beyond any provided by a chorēgos) would be the sons of fathers who could afford private lessons in the palaestra. The pyrrhic chorus in the classical period very likely retained an element of elitism, despite being presented as a democratic event. If there were exceptions, we hear of none, because the Athenian pyrrhicist is also anonymous. Victorious tribes and chorēgoi are mentioned in oratory and inscriptions, but individual dancers or leaders are not named.152 Rather, it is the chorus, its leader, the dance, and the tribe that are identified. While this may have been a function of the tribal and democratic reforms of the late sixth century, the anonymity of the pyrrhicist also serves to support the image of the Athenian citizen-soldier.153 Every Athenian male is – in theory, at least – a pyrrhicist. Perhaps such an ideal could only be imagined with a certain amount of anonymity. Yet the fabric of the ideal could also unravel or, at least, be scrutinized when the reality no longer supported the image. Just Speech’s complaint about the physical weakness of the pyrrhicists in the Greater Panathenaia might be considered in the context of the association between the nude 152

On female choruses in which one girl is typically distinguished from her companions, see Calame (1997) 42.

153

Ibid., 30-33 on the collective character of female choruses.

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male physique and valor. Larissa Bonfante suggests a paradigm shift from the archaic to classical period; the male nude physique previously associated with religious activity came to be associated with civic activity, and the male form itself came to be identified with the heroic ideal.154 Physique and bearing are indicators of character and civic virtue. As we have seen and will contemplate further in the chapter that follows, Plato’s pyrrhichē represents beautiful bodies and courageous souls embroiled in the struggles of war (7.814e5-815).155 If the Athenian pyrrhicist, as Aristophanes tells us, lacks the physical strength to perform his dance appropriately, then it follows that he lacks the civic heroism displayed by his illustrious forbearers, the heroized dead of Marathon.156 Indeed, this is Plato’s problem with the Athenian pyrrhic.

154

Aristophanes Clouds 985-999.

155

Bonfante (1989) 554-555.

156

Loraux (1986) 39-41 on the heroization of the war dead in the funeral oration.

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3 Dancing for the Gods in Magnesia: Pyrrhichē and Emmeleia Introduction In the first chapter, I established the suitability of the dance event and occasions of performance models to the study of non-extant historical dances, as well as to the fictionalized dances in the Laws. In the second chapter I applied this model to the Athenian pyrrhichē and now, using the same descriptive models, I turn to the Magnesian weapon dance. Like its Athenian counterpart, the Magnesian pyrrhichē is a performative nexus of civic and religious identity; as such, it serves a comparable ideological function. Closer examination of its occasions of performance, however, will reveal that beyond the shared termination pyrrhichē, martial character and associated deity, the Magnesian pyrrhichē differs from the Athenian pyrrhichē in significant ways that shape our understanding of its ideological force in Magnesia and in Plato’s thought. In this chapter, I will investigate the Magnesian weapon dance as a dance event, whose occasions of performance encompass all the historical, social and political contingencies that endow the choral form with meaning for those who perform it, those who watch it, and for Plato himself.1 This examination will also serve to illuminate Plato’s intentions regarding choral performance, religious activity, and citizenship together in the Laws. To effect as complete a description as possible, I will situate Plato’s pyrrhichē in the broader context of Magnesian choral performance. Yet before describing the choral life of the Magnesians, I will begin with the choral taxonomy that Plato establishes in Book Seven. This

1

See Chapter One, pages 10-13; on the applicability of this model to the pyrrhichē, see Ceccarelli (2004) 92, who emphasizes the significance of the ritual and political contexts of the Athenian weapon dance.

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taxonomy, which has been almost entirely overlooked as a fully conceived classification tool, functions descriptively to establish the mimetic configurations of dance and prescriptively to determine which configurations are suitable for Magnesians to perform. This choral taxonomy is an outline, much like the outline the Lawgiver is to deliver to the Law Guardians to refine and implement, inasmuch as it identifies the basic mimetic configurations that will permit the preliminary classification and identification of dances (7.816c2-3). It also articulates the kinds of people, actions, and situations suitable and unsuitable for imitation in choral performance.2 As such, it serves as a reader’s guide to the choral landscape of Magnesia, but also as a manual for the fictional Lawgiver (nomothetēs) who will settle the city and guide its initial legal and cultural structures, and the Law Guardians (nomophylakes), the thirty-seven citizens entrusted with maintaining the integrity of the structure handed down by the Lawgiver (6.752d2-e2). 3 Mousikē comprises all facets of musical culture, from the composition of music and poetry to the choreography of the accompanying dances and finally to every aspect of their performance, in short, all the occasions of performance. Its ethical and political impact is fairly established in the Republic. Socrates invokes Damon’s pronouncement that ‘the laws of music never undergo change without the most important political laws [doing the same] (Rep. 424c69).’ The guiding principle for the ideal city is then set forth: since the laws of mousikē and of the polis are so intimately connected, mousikē must be conscientiously overseen; in fact, it is the

2

Morrow (1960) 358-359 recognizes a loose classification, but believes that it breaks down quickly. I hope to show that the classification structure maintains its integrity. Warry (1962) 64 maintains that “no automatic criterion of poetry and art is offered,” in the Laws, with tragedy and comedy cautiously admitted without any statement of the claims governing their inclusion. Apart from these two, Plato’s classification of dance has been overlooked. 3

Cf. 754d5-755b4: the three main duties of the nomophylakes are to uphold the laws, to keep the register for property classes, and to hear any trials regarding fraud perpetrated in those registers. Along with these three main duties, they will perform any additional duties as is required by any new laws. We will see that the laws governing music and performance fall within their domain. They serve for twenty years, but not before the age of fifty; if elected at the age of sixty, a nomophylax will serve for ten years.

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responsibility of the guardians in Callipolis to fashion a safeguard for it, as if they were building a home (Rep. 424d1-2). We will see that the Laws turns singular attention to choreia, which refers specifically to the singing and dancing component of mousikē, as central to character formation (2.655d5-9; 2.668b10-c1; 7.798d8-10); the dialogue also takes up the mandate set forth in the Republic to construct such a safeguard for mousikē as will prevent the sort of cultural dissolution that, to Plato’s mind, informs the narrative of Athenian culture and history. It is with no little precision then that Plato establishes the choral taxonomy of the Laws to serve as a guide to the nomothetēs and nomophylax in their construction of the Magnesian choral world.4 To fashion a philosophically sound choral culture, first the nomothetēs must establish the general song and dance forms appropriate to the polis (7.802d9-e5; 816c2-d2; 8.835a9-b5).5 Choreia is a fully mimetic act (2.655d5-9; 668b10-c3), so he must understand the nature of a composition - its essence, intention, its original (668c7-11; 669b1-4) – in order to judge whether or not it is a correct representation. Next, the nomophylax must investigate and study the inherited choral forms in all their occasions of performance (7.816c2-d2; 835a9-b5). If a dance form is inoperable, that is, if it cannot be brought into line with approved choral configurations, it will be rejected altogether; but if it is salvageable, the nomophylax will revise it, link it with the appropriate music, feast and deity, and consecrate it (7.802b1-6; 809b4-c5; 812b10-c6; 8.834e2835a2). The choral taxonomy of the Laws will guide the nomothetēs and nomophylakes in this process, as it will our understanding of choral performance in Magnesia. By the end of Part One of this chapter, I will be able to determine with some confidence what choral forms will be 4

Orchēsis, it should be noted, is one element of choreia, the other being oidē, song. Choreia is the performance of dance and song together (2.654b4-5). 5

He is to outline the songs and dances appropriate to each gender, as well as the appropriate blends for tunes, harmonies, and themes. The words typos and schemata are used to denote general outlines.

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salvaged for performance and which will be rejected. The dances of war and peace are presented as unproblematic in their taxonomy, and we will see that Plato privileges them both in theory and in practice in the Laws. However he challenges the inherited forms of comedy, tragedy and the bacchic dances with his taxonomy; they, in turn, challenge his taxonomy. So we are compelled to labor over these forms and Plato’s intentions for them, and this will lead us to earlier dialogues in hopes of elucidating problematic passages in the Laws. In Part Two, I will present, with such detail as the text offers or permits us to infer, Magnesian choral life and performance. Organized by age and gender, the choral life of Magnesia is most fruitfully understood in the general context of three choral-political phases, which are essentially age classifications: the Three Choruses.6 The first choral form that the taxonomy addresses is also the only dance form described fully – the pyrrhichē dance. 7 The attention Plato bestows upon the pyrrhichē is not coincidental, and I will suggest that the Magnesian weapon dance functions as the model with which the nomothetēs and nomophylax will fashion the dances of peace – the emmeleia – about which the text is vague. With a finer understanding of the political and ethical demands the dialogue places on all dances, viz, the choral taxonomy and the pyrrhichē, we can make some reasonable suggestions about the dances of peace and what Plato intends for Magnesian comedy and tragedy.

6

I will address the educational and civic role of the Three Choruses in the fourth chapter.

7

We will continue to find the Athenian pyrrhichē a helpful frame of reference. Morrow (1960) 351-361 cites Athenaeus’ description of the inclusion of dithyrambic elements in pyrrhic performances (631cd) as testimony to deteriorating pyrrhic performances, and so understands the Magnesian pyrrhichē as critique and corrective to the Athenian weapon dance. But Kowalzig (2004) 43 understands this criticism more broadly observing that “the Laws’ obsession with chorality more often than not accurately reflects what Athens was not.” Folch (2006) 25, as well, reads the whole choral world of the Laws as a reconfiguration of “the politics of contemporary Athenian performance.”

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Part One: The Laws’ Choral Taxonomy The Athenian Stranger defines dance fundamentally as a kinetic phenomenon: it is one of two species of movement engaging the entire body, the other being wrestling (7.814d9-e1). 8 Dance (orchēsis) is further divided into two classes.9 περὶ δὲ τῆς ἄλλης κινήσεως παντὸς τοῦ σώματος, ἧς τὸ πλεῖστον μέρος ὄρχησίν τινά τις προσαγορεύων ὀρθῶς ἂν φθέγγοιτο, δύο μὲν αὐτῆς εἴδη χρὴ νομίζειν εἶναι, τὴν μὲν τῶν καλλιόνων σωμάτων ἐπὶ τὸ σεμνὸν μιμουμένην, τὴν δὲ τῶν αἰσχιόνων ἐπὶ τὸ φαῦλον, καὶ πάλιν τοῦ φαύλου τε δύο καὶ τοῦ σπουδαίου δύο ἕτερα. Concerning the other kind of movement of the entire body, whose main division one would appropriately call dance, it is necessary to distinguish its two classes: the one which represents [the movement] of rather fair bodies to the effect of reverence, and the other [which represents the movement] of rather ugly bodies for a base effect; in turn, there are two types of the meaningful and two of the base (7.814d10-e7). 10 8

There seem to be two fundamental orders of movement (kinēsis) that define human existence: movement of the body and movement of the soul (10.896b6-c3). The Athenian Stranger identifies ten types of motion (10.893c5894c8), but this particular distinction, made in the context of the soul’s priority over body, is the difference between the motion of a soulless and soulful body. 9

This initial distinction between dance and wrestling overlaps with the educational divisions set forth earlier in Book Seven, where the Athenian Stranger identifies the two fields of study around which lessons are organized, mousikē and gymnastikē; the two kinds of gymnastic lessons correspond to the two kinds of movement that involve the entire body - wrestling and dance (7.795.d9-e1). Of wrestling the two forms are upright wrestling (palē orthē) and fighting on the ground. The former, because it resembles the movements of hand-to-hand combat, is useful, but the latter, of which Plato vehemently disapproves, useless (7.814c9-d7). Both standing and ground wrestling were common in ancient Greece, though standing wrestling seems to have enjoyed more prestige; Poliakoff (1987) 33-35 observes that only in standing wrestling might clear and decisive throws be executed, unlike in wrestling that”s been taken to the ground. 10

My translation reflects England”s suggestion (1921) Vol 2, 300, that we are meant to understand κίνησις with τῶν καλλιόνων σωμάτων. However, he also suggests that we render ἐπὶ τὸ σεμνὸν and ἐπὶ τὸ φαῦλον as "on the grand side" and "on the ridiculous side," respectively, neither of which seems to account for the mimetic potential of dance. LSJ suggests the first of the two phrases be rendered "in its noble qualities." Diès (1956) 49 renders a sense of purpose in both phrases: "en ce qu’ils ont de noble" and "dans un dessein frivole." I exclude none of these interpretations, but suggest an additional rendering. If we read ἐπὶ with the accusative substantive adjective to imply the quality of the result or the effect an action has, we are capturing not only the look and purpose of the class of dance, but the effect, as well, on performer and audience. Sōmata, though often used to refer to the physical body, as often indicates simply a person or human being. Cf. 10.908a4; also, Sophocles Antigone 676; Euripides Hercules Furens 909.

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This movement is also representational, that is, mimetic. Plato’s working definition of dance, then, is best understood as “movement engaging the whole body and representing the movement of other bodies.” The two classes of dance, spoudaion and phaulon, are characterized by the types of persons whose movements they represent, as well as the effects of such representation. Kallionōn (rather fair) and aischionōn (rather ugly) refer both to physical attributes but also, by extension, to ethical dispositions.11 Outward form and movement are expressions of the soul’s condition. Although dance is the physical imitation of another’s physical movement, this points to an inherently ethical dimension of the choral act. We will explore this dimension further in the next chapter, but should understand that this ethical dimension has direct bearing on how Plato formulates his choral taxonomy. This is apparent in the terms Plato ascribes to the two classes of dance. Spoudaion and phaulon seem to form a simple dichotomy. However, while such renderings as “serious and trivial,” “solemn and ludicrous,” or “lofty and base” are not incorrect, they are superficial, since they account only for the appearance of the dance, but do not account for the ethical source or effect.12 Spoudaion implies the value or significance of a person or thing, and is regularly contrasted with phaulon. Semnon, which Plato links to spoudaion, can imply worth or reverence and is also contrasted with phaulon, if less regularly; yet semnon and spoudaion are not interchangeable, because semnon still carries with it the notion of reverence for the divine and

11

See Redfield (1975) 280 on beauty or ugliness as the manifestation of one’s ethical disposition in Greek thought, particularly Homeric epic. 12

Saunders (1970) 307 interprets the distinction “decent and disreputable;” England (1921), v. 2, 300 suggests “on the grand side” and “on the ridiculous side;” Morrow (1960) 358-359 reads spoudaion as “serious,” semnon as “majestic,” and phaulon as trivial.

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holy.13 As Plato pairs semnon with spoudaion to form a semantic unit, he calls our attention to the reverential dimension of the spoudaion class of dance. This is supported elsewhere in the text. Education and play (paideia and paidia) form the most serious (spoudaiotaton) pursuit, says the Athenian Stranger (7.803d6-8). This “serious play” constitutes continuous sacrifice and communion with the gods by means of prayers, offerings and complete devotion (4.716d3-e1), singing and dancing for the gods throughout one’s life (7.803c8-10; 803d10-e6; 8.835d6-e2).14 This situates the spoudaion class of dance squarely among devotional activities. Furthermore, I suggest that we understand the phrase peri to semnon to imply reverence as both the aim and effect of the spoudaion class of dance; in short, it is worthy of serious pursuit precisely because it is devotional. This suggests – if we are to understand the phaulon class in direct opposition to all that is implied in the semantic unit formed by spoudaion and semnon – that this second class of dance is not devotional, and consequently not worthy of serious attention or effort. In a state defined by its continual communion with the gods by means of hymns of praise, prayer and thanks, this is a crucial distinction as we try to determine the parameters of the Magnesian choral world and which dance forms fall within and outside it.15

13

Phaulon and spoudaion are often explicitly contrasted in Plato: Laws 6.757a1-2; Republic 423c8; 519d6; 603c2; Phaedrus 242c5; 261b2; Euthydemus 307a4; elsewhere, as in Symposium 174c, the opposition is implicit. See also Isocrates 1.1, in which the substantive difference between men who are spoudaioi and phauloi can be seen in their friendships and loyalty to friends; Euripides Hippolytus 989; Phaedra 496; Ion 834. We find three instances in Plato of a similar contrast between phaulon and semnon: in Cratylus 392a, they are used to distinguished information that is important to know from that which is not; likewise in Hippias Maior 288d2, Hippias claims the one who injects worthless things into an important discussion is apaideutos. Finally, in the Republic 475b1 the contrast extends to distinguishing the importance of people. 14

Φημὶ χρῆναι τὸ μὲν σπουδαῖον σπουδάζειν, τὸ δὲ μὴ σπουδαῖον μή, φύσει δὲ εἶναι θεὸν μὲν πάσης μακαρίου σπουδῆς ἄξιον, ἄνθρωπον δέ . . . τούτῳ δὴ δεῖν τῷ τρόπῳ συνεπόμενον καὶ παίζοντα ὅτι καλλίστας παιδιὰς πάντ” ἄνδρα καὶ γυναῖκα οὕτω διαβιῶναι (7.803c3-10). 15

On the religious nature of the Magnesian state, see Kowalzig (2006) 44-42; also van Harten (2003) 128-129.

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A. The Spoudaion Class: Dances of War and Peace The choral taxonomy presents this class simply, clearly and succinctly. The spoudaion class of dance, described also as semnon and kalon (fair or noble) represents figures enacting the virtues of courage and moderation in the contexts of war and peace, respectively (7.814e4-7; 816b11). The spoudaion class is accordingly divided into two types of dance – the dance of war (pyrrhichē) and the dance of peace (emmeleia): . . . τοῦ δὴ σπουδαίου τὴν μὲν κατὰ πόλεμον καὶ ἐν βιαίοις ἐμπλακέντων πόνοις σωμάτων μὲν καλῶν, ψυχῆς δ’ ἀνδρικῆς, τὴν δ’ ἐν εὐπραγίαις τε οὔσης ψυχῆς σώφρονος ἐν ἡδοναῖς τε ἐμμέτροις· εἰρηνικὴν ἄν τις λέγων κατὰ φύσιν τὴν τοιαύτην ὄρχησιν λέγοι. τὴν πολεμικὴν δὴ τούτων, ἄλλην οὖσαν τῆς εἰρηνικῆς, πυρρίχην ἄν τις ὀρθῶς προσαγορεύοι . . . . . . of this serious class is first the [movement imitative of] noble bodies in war, embroiled in violent struggles, that of the courageous soul, and next that of the temperate soul in prosperity and moderate pleasures – and this one, because of its nature, one would call the dance of peace; of these the warlike dance, inasmuch as it is different from the peaceful dance, one ought properly to call the pyrrhichē (7.814e3-815a2). 16 This passage establishes the basic mimetic configuration for both pyrrhichē and emmeleia in terms of broader context, imagined setting, emotion, physical response, and related virtue.

16

The two types of dance are informed by the division of all things in the Laws into aspects of war or peace. Morrow (1960) 359 sees this as a natural division, and notes the same division of material in the Republic between the fundamental and desirable temperaments (courage and temperance), particularly as represented in musical modes (399a1-400c). Delavaud-Roux (1994) 10 divides ancient Greek dance into armed dances, peaceful dances, and Dionysiac dances. Of the pacific form she identifies two musical genres, both of Cretan origin: the paian, processional in nature and slow in tempo; and the hyporcheme, which includes many choreographic gestures and a rapid tempo. Her classification is based loosely on Plato’s own in the Laws.

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Combat is the imagined setting for the choral representation of the courageous soul, that is, the person who can endure physical pain and fear.17 The dance’s repertoire is further divided into two categories determined by the two aspects of combat, defensive and offensive movements (7.814e12-815a8). The Athenian Stranger describes the elements of both categories in some detail, and to these we will turn below, but what is notable is that following his description of the defensive and offensive movements of the dance, he tells us there is a correct way – and an incorrect way – to execute these movements. If the dancer’s limbs do not express tension, vigor and alignment, then the dance is wrong (7.815a8-b3). This critical moment has been noticed by Morrow, who suggests that Plato takes aim at contemporary pyrrhichē performances.18 This is undoubtedly so. However, what is at stake is the proper representation of a virtue, the implications of which we will explore in the next chapter. For our present purposes, we must note that the configuration of the pyrrhichē comes with a mandate for its correct execution. Its configuration, then, is the representation in dance of the fair body exhibiting courage in the face of pain and the threat of pain, while engaged in the measured offensive and defensive movements of combat. The configuration for the emmeleia is the converse of the pyrrhichē’s. In the dances of peace, prosperity is the imagined setting for the choral representation of the temperate person experiencing pleasure. Indeed, the emmeleiai are variously described in terms of peace, moderation, and prosperity.19 Moderation, courage’s counterpart, guards against over-confidence

17

Fear is defined as the expectation of pain; conversely, confidence is the expectation of pleasure (1.644c14-d1; 646e7-a7). 18

Morrow (1960) 374.

19

Peace (eirēnikē): 7.814e11, 815a1, 815b4, 815c6, 815d1, 815d4, 815d6; the unwarlike Muse once (7.815d6); moderation and measure: psychēs sōphronos 814e10; en hedonais emmetrois 814e11; to sophronein 816a2; under good laws and in prosperity: eunomōn andrōn 815b7; en eupragiais 814e10; prattein eu 815d9.

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in continued physical pleasure (1.644c14-d1).20 Unlike with the pyrrhichē, Plato provides no schēmata, or types of movements, that the moderate enjoyment of pleasures would entail. However, he does identify the two categories of pleasure represented in the dances of peace, and their corresponding kinds of movement. These categories are determined by the two kinds of prosperity, continuing prosperity and that which is newly found: τὸ δὲ τῆς ἀπολέμου μούσης, ἐν ὀρχήσεσιν δὲ τούς τε θεοὺς καὶ τοὺς τῶν θεῶν παῖδας τιμώντων, ἓν μὲν σύμπαν γίγνοιτ’ἂν γένος ἐν δόξῃ τοῦ πράττειν εὖ γιγνόμενον, τοῦτο δὲ διχῇ διαιροῖμεν ἄν, τὸ μὲν ἐκ πόνων τινῶν αὐτοῦ καὶ κινδύνων διαπεφευγότων εἰς ἀγαθά, μείζους ἡδονὰς ἔχον, τὸ δὲ τῶν ἔμπροσθεν ἀγαθῶν σωτηρίας οὔσης καὶ ἐπ’αύξης, πρᾳοτέρας τὰς ἡδονὰς κεκτημένον ἐκείνων. Now regarding the [dance] of the unwarlike Muse, that of people honoring in dances the gods and the gods’ children, it ought to be considered one complete kind that comes from prosperity, and this we should divide into two: that of people escaping from some dangers or hardships into good fortune (this would involve greater pleasures); and the other concerning the safeguarding and increase of previous blessings, and this would involve pleasures milder than the others (7.815d6-e5). The distinction is founded in the two states of pleasure and the body’s natural tendency to move in accordance with those states. When prosperity is newfound, the pleasure associated with it dramatically increases, and one’s physical movements manifest this spike in emotional activity with larger, more sudden motions. Alternately, one enjoying continued prosperity experiences pleasure more evenly, and so the physical expression of his inner state would be smaller, calmer movements (815e5-7).21 The noble and moderate person would, even in moments of increased pleasure, still comport himself with measure, both in terms of emotion and of movement.

20

Plato uses the term tharros which can mean courage or the grounds for courage or confidence. It is tempting to suggest this refers to an emotional dependence or over-reliance on physical comforts or pleasures. 21 For a variation on this, cf. 5.732c1-d8, in which the Athenian Stranger discourages the display of both extreme joy and extreme sorry; indeed, he urges the concealment of such expressions, particularly for those who are hoping for divine help during misfortune or praying for continued blessings during prosperity.

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The configuration for the emmeleia, then, is the representation in dance of the fair body, exhibiting moderation in the pleasures of newfound prosperity and in the expectation of continued prosperity, and whose movements, though more pronounced in the former, are calm and controlled. If the dancer cannot regularly effect the kinds of movements appropriate to the well-governed person, then his representation is wrong (7.815b3-7). As with the pyrrhichē, correctness of representation is a concern to the Athenian Stranger. In fact, the pyrrhichē and emmeleia are the only dances in the choral taxonomy whose proper execution is addressed and, one might suppose, ensured by law. This is perhaps to ensure the economy of the spoudaion class: war, combat, pain, fear, and courage are neatly and unambiguously juxtaposed with peace, prosperity, pleasure, expectation, and moderation. Prosperity and combat are the respective settings of peace and war; to each belongs a particular physical and emotional engagement, which is ideally met with the appropriate virtue. Indeed, virtue forms the capstone for the mimetic configuration of the spoudaion class; specifically, the mimetic and ethical aim of the dance of war is courage and that of the dances of peace is moderation.

B. The Phaulon Class: Dances of Comedy and Tragedy The Athenian Stranger leaves no doubt regarding the essential and formal distinctions between the spoudaion and phaulon classes of dance, and he clearly and abruptly announces his change in subject: Τὰ μὲν οὖν τῶν καλῶν σωμάτων καὶ γενναίων ψυχῶν εἰς τὰς χορείας, οἵας εἴρηται δεῖν αὐτὰς εἶναι, διαπεπέρανται, τὰ δὲ τῶν αἰσχρῶν σωμάτων καὶ διανοημάτων καὶ τῶν ἐπὶ τὰ τοῦ γέλωτος

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κωμῳδήματα τετραμμένων, κατὰ λέξιν τε καὶ ᾠδὴν καὶ κατὰ ὄρχησιν καὶ κατὰ τὰ τούτων πάντων μιμήματα κεκωμῳδημένα, ἀνάγκη μὲν θεάσασθαι καὶ γνωρίζειν· Now then, the subject of fair bodies and noble souls in the sorts of songs and dances that have been considered appropriate has been exhausted. But the subject of base bodies and thoughts and of men engaged in comic acting to generate a laugh, using speech, song, dance and the comedic representations of all these things, we must examine and evaluate (7.816d5-10). As we recall, the phaulon class of dance represents base people for an unseemly effect and, like the spoudaion class, has two types (7.814d10-e7). In the passage above, the Athenian Stranger clearly identifies comedy as the first type of this class. The comic configuration, however, lacks the simplicity and clarity of the configurations employed to describe the spoudaion dances. Plato does not offer two categories of comedic dance, as Morrow expects, because simple dichotomies no longer suffice.22 As Nightingale observes, Plato’s “relationship with comedy is complex precisely because the genre of comedy is complex.” 23 It is important to note here that we will find his taxonomy of comedy amounts to a psychology (and critique) of contemporary comedy as practiced in Athens and the occasions of contemporary comic performances. Given Plato’s appreciation of the complexity of genre as occasion, his taxonomy of comedy will include all the elements of comedic performance. Notably, this broader context includes lexis. As a dramatic form, comedy (and tragedy for that matter) includes the element of speech, in narrative and in dialogue.24 I follow LSJ, which uses this passage specifically as an

22

Morrow (1960) 370-371 considers Plato’s classification of dance to break down at this point, and tentatively suggests that Plato leaves his audience to infer the two categories of comic dancing as the kordax and the satyr dance. This strains the text overmuch. Morrow is looking for names of dances, rather than mimetic configurations. On the kordax in Attic comedy, see Pickard-Cambridge (1927) 259-260. 23

Nightingale (1995) 173-176.

24

For lexis as speech that can be either narrative or imitative, see Republic 3.396c6, e5; 397b1; 398b2. England (1921) vol 2 503 renders this passage as, “speech, song, and the mimetic powers which all these possess.”

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instance of lexis in opposition to oidē, that is, the spoken word, as opposed to the sung word. Its coordination with oidē by means of te kai draws our attention to the pair, underscoring the distinction between words spoken and sung while indicating the inclusion of both in the comedic configuration.25 We will see below that speech and its content are particular concerns for Plato in regard to tragedy and comedy. The text is not explicit regarding the circumstance of comedy, but since the nature of speech in comedy is abusive and aggressive (11.934e-935b), we might reasonably infer that at least one circumstance imagined here for comedic representation is conflict. We cannot align comedic representation with either the representation of peace or of war; the conflict (the agōn) common to both Old and New Comedy destroys the distinction between peace and war that is fundamental to the spoudaion class. It also introduces the element of internal strife, the worst kind of conflict, according to the Athenian Stranger.26 Distinctions are lost again in the associated physical and emotional responses to the setting. The pyrrhichē is firmly aligned with pain and fear (combat) and the emmeleia with pleasure and confidence (prosperity), but no such clarity is found in comedy. The Philebus may shed some light. Socrates describes the condition of the soul at comedies (and tragedies), as responding impulsively and without reason to pleasure and pain (48a); the comic (and tragic) figure is a discordant soul; such a figure as not only self-ignorant (he does not recognize his own discord), but also overestimates his own wisdom (48a-49a). In a powerless person, this is

25

This coordination of speech and song also draws our attention to the fact that dance is a discrete element of the comic configuration, rather than connected with song to produce choreia (2.654b4-5), in which the Athenian Stranger defines choreia as orchēsis te kai oidē. The pyrrhichē, as we also recall, is performed without vocals; the emmeleia, however, comprise both song and dance. On comic dances as incidental (and without song) in comedic performances, see Pickard-Cambridge (1927) 230-231 26

On the agōn in Old Comedy, see Pickard-Cambridge (1927) 298-302. On stasis as the worst possible form of war, see Laws 1.628b2; 628c9; 629d2; 5.744d4; 8.856b4.

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laughable, the object of comedic representation (49b-c).27 We can extrapolate for the Laws a comedic configuration, then, that is the representation in speech, song and dance of discordant and self-ignorant souls, in weak and ugly bodies engaged in conflict and ridicule, cowardice or excess, moving and speaking without measure or control and inciting laughter.28 Remaining for the present with the Philebus, we see that self-ignorance is common to comic and tragic figures. Socrates divides the self-ignorant into two types, the powerless and the powerful: Ταύτῃ τοίνυν δίελε, καὶ ὅσοι μὲν αὐτῶν εἰσι μετ’ ἀσθενείας τοιοῦτοι καὶ ἀδύνατοι καταγελώμενοι τιμωρεῖσθαι, γελοίους τούτους φάσκων εἶναι τἀληθῆ φθέγξῃ· τοὺς δὲ δυνατοὺς τιμωρεῖσθαι καὶ ἰσχυροὺς φοβεροὺς καὶ ἐχθροὺς προσαγορεύων ὀρθότατον τούτων σαυτῷ λόγον ἀποδώσεις. ἄγνοια γὰρ ἡ μὲν τῶν ἰσχυρῶν ἐχθρά τε καὶ αἰσχρά—βλαβερὰ γὰρ καὶ τοῖς πέλας αὐτή τε καὶ ὅσαι εἰκόνες αὐτῆς εἰσιν—ἡ δ’ ἀσθενὴς ἡμῖν τὴν τῶν γελοίων εἴληχε τάξιν τε καὶ φύσιν. Divide them like this, then, and those who are weak and powerless to fight back when ridiculed, you would speak truthfully to call them ridiculous; but those who are capable of exacting revenge, you are right to call mighty, terrible and hateful. For the ignorance of the powerful is both hateful and shameful - for it itself and its images are harmful to those nearby – but the ignorance of the weak falls to the class and nature of the ridiculous (49b-c). Comedy and tragedy form a mimetic unit in the Philebus; both forms represent figures who, ignorant of their own discordant responses to pleasure and pain, credit themselves with wisdom they do not possess. The intemperate actions of the ineffectual are comedic, while the excessive actions of the powerful cause damage and form the stuff of tragedy.

27

There are two other forms of self-ignorance: wealth and physical qualities (48e). The stock characters of comedy – the drunken old woman, the food thief, the quack doctor, the old man, and so forth – are ready associations for the “base figures” Plato generally ascribes to comedy. On these, see Pickard-Cambridge (1927) 230-231. 28

Folch (2006) 156.

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This brings us to the second type of the phaulon class of dance. Morrow rejects the idea that Plato would classify tragedy as phaulon and prefers to believe that he simply fails to identify the second type of that class. Yet, as Nightingale observes, Plato’s relationship with tragedy (as with comedy) is complex, and one can find sufficient evidence throughout the corpus that he questions the worth of tragedy.29 The manner in which the Athenian Stranger presents the two in sequence suggests that in the Laws Plato still considers comedy and tragedy a mimetic and ethical unit.30 The Athenian Stranger begins his discussion of the phaulon class with comedy and, when he dispenses with that, turns immediately to tragedy: ὅσα μὲν οὖν περὶ γέλωτά ἐστιν παίγνια, ἃ δὴ κωμῳδίαν πάντες λέγομεν, οὕτως τῷ νόμῳ καὶ λόγῳ κείσθω· τῶν δὲ σπουδαίων, ὥς φασι, τῶν περὶ τραγῳδίαν ἡμῖν ποιητῶν, ἐάν ποτέ τινες αὐτῶν ἡμᾶς ἐλθόντες ἐπανερωτήσωσιν οὑτωσί πως· “Ὦ ξένοι, πότερον φοιτῶμεν ὑμῖν εἰς τὴν πόλιν τε καὶ χώραν ἢ μή, καὶ τὴν ποίησιν φέρωμέν τε καὶ ἄγωμεν, ἢ πῶς ὑμῖν δέδοκται περὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα δρᾶν;” — τί οὖν ἂν πρὸς ταῦτα ὀρθῶς ἀποκριναίμεθα τοῖς θείοις ἀνδράσιν; Thus let such things be laid down, by law and argument, regarding the ridiculous amusements we all call comedy; now as for the socalled serious poets, the tragedians, suppose some of them should approach us and ask something like this, ‘Oh Strangers, are we to frequent your city and your land and bring in our poetry or not? Or how have you decided regarding such matters?’ What would we rightly say to these godlike men in response to these things? (7.816e12-817a9) Both Halliwell and Nightingale note the irony in Plato’s description of the tragic poets as the “so called serious poets”, which serves to underscore tragedy’s demotion from the spoudaion class.31

29

Nightingale (1995) 88.

30

Morrow (1960) 374.

31

Halliwell (1996) 342 and Nightingale (1995) 88-89. Cf. also 8.838c4, where the Athenian Stranger suggests preventative measures to crimes like incest involve garnering public opinion so that everyone, even the texts of comedy and tragedy, are in agreement about what is unacceptable behavior. He then follows this, tongue-in-cheek, by reminding us of Thyestes, Oedipus, and Macareus, whose incestuous acts led to bloodshed.

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Furthermore, the clear, mimetic parameters set forth for the spoudaion class (7.814e3-815b7; 815d5-816c2) render the word’s use here not simply ironic, but when combined with the attribution of godlike (theoi andres), downright inimical.32 Plato’s rejection of tragedy’s presumed rank as spoudaion is established earlier, as in Republic 608a, when Socrates declares that tragedy is not the serious (spoudaion) form people think it is. This also calls to mind the sarcasm of the Gorgias, as Socrates and Callicles assess the ethical value and purpose of tragedy: {ΣΩ.} Τί δὲ δὴ ἡ σεμνὴ αὕτη καὶ θαυμαστή, ἡ τῆς τραγῳδίας ποίησις, ἐφ’ ᾧ ἐσπούδακεν; πότερόν ἐστιν αὐτῆς τὸ ἐπιχείρημα καὶ ἡ σπουδή, ὡς σοὶ δοκεῖ, χαρίζεσθαι τοῖς θεαταῖς μόνον, ἢ καὶ διαμάχεσθαι, ἐάν τι αὐτοῖς ἡδὺ μὲν ᾖ καὶ κεχαρισμένον, πονηρὸν δέ, ὅπως τοῦτο μὲν μὴ ἐρεῖ, εἰ δέ τι τυγχάνει ἀηδὲς καὶ ὠφέλιμον, τοῦτο δὲ καὶ λέξει καὶ ᾄσεται, ἐάντε χαίρωσιν ἐάντε μή; ποτέρως σοι δοκεῖ παρεσκευάσθαι ἡ τῶν τραγῳδιῶν ποίησις; {ΚΑΛ.} Δῆλον δὴ τοῦτό γε, ὦ Σώκρατες, ὅτι πρὸς τὴν ἡδονὴν μᾶλλον ὥρμηται καὶ τὸ χαρίζεσθαι τοῖς θεαταῖς. Socrates: Then what about the purpose that has inspired our revered and marvelous tragic poetry? Are her endeavor and purpose, to your mind, merely for the gratification of the spectators, or does she strive hard, if there be anything pleasant and gratifying, but bad for them, to leave that unsaid, and if there be anything unpleasant, but beneficial, both to speak and sing that, whether they enjoy it or not? To which of these two aims, do you think, is tragic poetry devoted ? Callicles: It is quite obvious, in her case, Socrates, that she is bent rather upon pleasure and the gratification of the spectators (Gorgias 502b-c). The position of semnē and thaumastē (revered and marvelous) emphasizes the sarcasm with which Socrates treats tragedy here, since he then proceeds to call it mere rhetoric once stripped of music and rhythm, flattery directed at an unwitting community, and, what is worse, lacking in

32

A prominent theme in the Laws is the aim of godlikeness, the movement of each citizen toward being like god. This will be explored in Chapter Five. The various forms of spoudē and spoudaios occur fifty-eight times in the dialogue; yet nowhere else is it deployed with the sense of disingenuousness that it is here.

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any educational or civic benefit (502c-d).33 Interestingly, the passages from the Gorgias focus on the component of speech (lexis) in tragedy, and it is this mimetic element to which Plato draws our attention in the Laws, as he establishes it as a taxonomical component, explicitly of comedy and implicitly of tragedy. 34 It is little wonder that tragedy presents an ethical dilemma here.35 The approved discourse of the Magnesian community, that is, the content of all song, poetry and speech, is that the just life is the most pleasurable and dear to the gods (2.664a5-9; b6-c3; 665c2-8); moreover, every speech act - private or public, praise or blame, verse or prose, spoken or written - must be tested for content against the writings of the Lawgiver (12.957c8-d10).36 After explaining to the tragic poets envisioned as applying for a chorus in Magnesia that the Magnesians themselves are rival poets with their own discourse, the fictional Lawgiver continues: μὴ δὴ δόξητε ἡμᾶς ῥᾳδίως γε οὕτως ὑμᾶς ποτε παρ’ ἡμῖν ἐάσειν σκηνάς τε πήξαντας κατ’ἀγορὰν καὶ καλλιφώνους ὑποκριτὰς εἰσαγαγομένους, μεῖζον φθεγγομένους ἡμῶν, ἐπιτρέψειν ὑμῖν δημηγορεῖν πρὸς παῖδάς τε καὶ γυναῖκας καὶ τὸν πάντα ὄχλον, τῶν αὐτῶν λέγοντας ἐπιτηδευμάτων πέρι μὴ τὰ αὐτὰ ἅπερ ἡμεῖς, ἀλλ’ ὡς τὸ πολὺ καὶ ἐναντία τὰ πλεῖστα. σχεδὸν γάρ τοι κἂν μαινοίμεθα τελέως ἡμεῖς τε καὶ ἅπασα ἡ πόλις, ἡτισοῦν ὑμῖν ἐπιτρέποι δρᾶν τὰ νῦν λεγόμενα, πρὶν κρῖναι τὰς ἀρχὰς εἴτε ῥητὰ καὶ ἐπιτήδεια πεποιήκατε λέγειν εἰς τὸ μέσον εἴτε μή. νῦν οὖν, ὦ παῖδες μαλακῶν Μουσῶν ἔκγονοι, ἐπιδείξαντες τοῖς ἄρχουσι πρῶτον τὰς ὑμετέρας παρὰ τὰς ἡμετέρας ᾠδάς, ἂν μὲν 33

They also presage, along with ōphelimon, the language deployed in the Laws to describe the spoudaion class of dance as reverential and useful. 34

Cf. Republic 3.392a. It is the topic of speech that introduces the discussion of tragedy and comedy.

35

As they did in Callipolis, from which they are banished (Republic 395e-396a; 606c). See Halliwell (2008) 206214, who would like to make a case for ritual laughter within the decidedly religious framework of Old Comedy at the Dionysia, but in the end admits that certainty is not possible. See also Asmis (1992) 339-340 on the poets’ role in the transmission of social values. 36

Plato does not underestimate the power of language. See Wind (1983) 6 who eloquently presents Plato’s appreciation of the danger inherent in the speech act and Bloch (1975) 1-28 who on access to oratory as access to power.

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τὰ αὐτά γε ἢ καὶ βελτίω τὰ παρ’ ὑμῶν φαίνηται λεγόμενα, δώσομεν ὑμῖν χορόν, εἰ δὲ μή, ὦ φίλοι, οὐκ ἄν ποτε δυναίμεθα.” ‘Do not think that we will ever easily permit you to set up your stages next to us in the agora and allow those sweet-voiced, imported actors speaking over us to address the children and women and the whole populace and, when speaking about the same practices, not saying the same things as we do, but for the most part, the exact opposite. Indeed, we would be completely insane, as would the whole state, if it allowed you to do what was just now described, before the magistrates had decided whether or not you had composed words suitable for speaking before all. Now then, o children sprung of the gentle Muses, first audition your songs alongside ours for the judges, and if your words seem to be the same as ours or better, we will grant you a chorus. But if not, friends, we will never be able to’ (7.817c1-d9).37 We should, as with comedy, understand that Plato’s critical taxonomy of tragedy here is directed toward contemporary tragic performance culture, and the imagined poets asking for a chorus are contemporary tragedians. The Lawgiver in this passage focuses on the speech of these tragic poets as they are imagined in the Magnesian agora, and their voices and speech are described as glaringly incompatible with the Magnesian setting and landscape. Their voices are described as not only sweet (kalliphōnous), but also louder than the Magnesians’ voices (meizon phtheggomenous), and the actors themselves are imagined as engaging in popular oratory (dēmēgoria), targeting every segment of the populace.38 Furthermore, they are not envisioned in

37

This passage has been interpreted variously as a recall from exile to a thinly disguised dismissal of tragic poetry altogether. Morrow (1960) 374-376, reads the passage quite literally, noting the similarity with the Athenian practice of poets having to apply for a chorus; Partee (1970) 209-222, esp. 215 observes that Plato’s treatment of poetry in the Laws is essentially the same as that in the Republic, in terms of content, but that in Magnesia poetry seems to be ousted by philosophy and didactic genres. Warry (1962) 64 believes tragedy and comedy are “cautiously admitted,” but with no real systematic philosophy informing those choices. For Halliwell (1996) 346-348, what Plato rejects is the pessimistic world-view embodied in and perpetuated by tragic performance. Burnyeat (1999) 276-279 argues persuasively that music and poetry are, contrary to popular opinion, pervasive in Callipolis, but that only the right kind of poetry will be permitted: “There will in fact be lots of poetry in the ideal city, some of it mimetic. The shock is, how little of it is to be mimetic; and how thoroughly edifying it all has to be.” Similarly, Naddaf (2007) 2-15, esp. 5. 38

Tragic speech is similarly described in Gorgias 502d5-7 as flattery disguising any manner of intention. Cf. Laws 7.817c5-6.

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the appropriately ritual space of the theatre, but in the political and commercial space of the agora. Most significantly, their language contradicts the content of state sanctioned speech (7.817c6-8). In short, the language of tragedy, its lexis, is depicted here as competing with, indeed subverting, the approved Magnesian discourse.39 If we press this a bit further, the implication is that tragic speech communicates that the just life is neither the best nor the most pleasant. The agōn of tragedy, like that of comedy, confounds the distinction between war and peace; even if the setting is not wartime, conflict is pervasive, extending to individuals, families and states, presenting the precise opposite of the peace that the Lawgiver tries to achieve.40 How does this inform the imitative movements of tragedy? The semnon class depicts people who are courageous and moderate, and so physically fair and, we might now say, possessed of selfknowledge and harmonious souls. In comedy, physical ugliness and distorted movements express the discordant and ignorant soul. The metaphysics of this formulation are problematic, but reveal the particular dilemma that tragedy poses for Plato’s taxonomy and his choral world. What happens when the condition of one’s soul is not expressed through one’s movements or words but, rather, is hidden by them? What are the consequences when the cowardly or excessive are fair to look upon or sweet to hear? Tragic figures (like comic figures) are variously dominated by their emotional responses to pain and pleasure (Philebus 48c8-50b5). The phaulon class represents figures giving way to the many and discordant impulses that operate on us all, inasmuch as we are like puppets (Laws

39

Folch (2006) 182 on the eulogistic poetics of Magnesia.

40

Even in support of peace, as in Eumenides 458.

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1.644d7-e1). While in the private person it is comical, in those with power it is dire.41 The distinction between comic and tragic representation is that comedy is an innocuous and frank expression of inner discord.42 In tragedy, the soul’s discord is disguised in fair outward form and speech; shameful and excessive acts of the powerful are valorized, and the audience is made complicit in its own deception. This discord particular to tragedy is identified by Halliwell as a surrender to excessive grief and self-pity, and this is particularly incompatible with the discouragement of any emotion in excess as detrimental to the soul and the state (5.727c5-728c5; 732b5-8).43 With this in hand, we might infer a configuration for tragedy as the representation in speech, song and dance of discordant and self-ignorant souls in fair and powerful bodies, engaged in conflict, and indulging excessive emotions that include grief and self-pity, with movements and words that may disguise condition and intention.

C. The Ecstatic Dances If contemporary tragedy and comedy challenge Plato’s mimetic taxonomy, bacchic dances positively defy it. The Athenian Stranger introduces them in the midst of his description of the emmeleia. He has just described properly executed dances of peace as the kind of dancing appropriate for well-ruled men, when he introduces the subject (7.815b5-8):

41

The image offered in Philebus is that of the imbalanced mixture of pain and pleasure (46d7-47a2) and its various gradations; these find alignment in comedy and tragedy (47c1-48a10). 42

And so, perhaps, less dangerous. This may account for why Plato reluctantly allows the Guardians to engage in jest in limited circumstances, Republic 3.396e. 43

Halliwell (1996) 346 and (2003) 333-349. He suggests that the concept of “the tragic” originates with Plato’s attempt to identify a world-view peculiar to the form, and this world-view emerges in Republic Books Two, Three and Ten. Furthermore, in the Republic, Plato rejects the role model of traditional education, the epic hero, precisely because of the uninhibited grief and self-pity that effectively immobilize him and keep him from moving forward with reason.

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τὴν τοίνυν ἀμφισβητουμένην ὄρχησιν δεῖ πρῶτον χωρὶς τῆς ἀναμφισβητήτου διατεμεῖν. τίς οὖν αὕτη, καὶ πῇ δεῖ χωρὶς τέμνειν ἑκατέραν; ὅση μὲν βακχεία τ’ ἐστὶν καὶ τῶν ταύταις ἑπομένων, ἃς Νύμφας τε καὶ Πᾶνας καὶ Σειληνοὺς καὶ Σατύρους ἐπονομάζοντες, ὥς φασιν, μιμοῦνται κατῳνωμένους, περὶ καθαρμούς τε καὶ τελετάς τινας ἀποτελούντων, σύμπαν τοῦτο τῆς ὀρχήσεως τὸ γένος οὔθ’ ὡς εἰρηνικὸν οὔθ’ ὡς πολεμικὸν οὔθ’ ὅτι ποτὲ βούλεται ῥᾴδιον ἀφορίσασθαι· διορίσασθαι μήν μοι ταύτῃ δοκεῖ σχεδὸν ὀρθότατον αὐτὸ εἶναι, χωρὶς μὲν πολεμικοῦ, χωρὶς δὲ εἰρηνικοῦ θέντας, εἰπεῖν ὡς οὐκ ἔστι πολιτικὸν τοῦτο τῆς ὀρχήσεως τὸ γένος, ἐνταῦθα δὲ κείμενον ἐάσαντας κεῖσθαι, νῦν ἐπὶ τὸ πολεμικὸν ἅμα καὶ εἰρηνικὸν ὡς ἀναμφισβητήτως ἡμέτερον ὂν ἐπανιέναι. Now then, the dancing that is questionable we must first sever from that which is unquestionable; but what is each and how must we divide one from the other? So much as is Bacchic [dancing] that is, in which who follow the dances which imitate the drunken nymphs, Pans, Sileni and Satyrs for which they are named, perform certain purification and initiation rites – this whole species of dance does not lend itself to being easily classified as either peaceful, warlike, or any other sort. But it seems to me that this is the generally correct way to classify it - placing it apart from the warlike and apart from the peaceful dance, to say that this species of dance is not for citizens and, having set it aside, let it lie there; and now we return to the martial and peaceful species as belonging without question to us (7.815b8-d5).44 Ecstatic dances confound the taxonomy of the emmeleia.45 Commentators hang their fate on the phrase ou politikon, but because this phrase can be variously understood, it alone offers no real solution to the lingering question of whether bacchic dances are allowed in Magnesia or not. However, the passage is couched between amphisbētoumenēn (disputable) and anamphisbētētōs

44

There is little consensus on the place of bacchic dancing in Magnesia. England (1923) vol. 2, 303, citing 697c2 and 854c7, places ou politikon in direct opposition to hemeteron in the assessment of bacchic dances as being of no educational value to the state. Morrow (1960) 363-365; 441-443 believes Plato is not comfortable expelling these traditional dance forms and so simply sets them apart from the legislative task at hand, leaving room for them to occur in Magnesia, but beyond the legislator’s purview. He cites Dionysus’ clear presence in the city in his eponymous Third Chorus. Folch (2006) 192-194 believes Plato is firm in his exclusion of bacchic dances from Magnesia, since they defy genre-based distinctions, both in form and in purpose, and so cannot be revised appropriately to serve the state. I offer an argument compatible with Folch’s, but based on the choral taxonomy. 45

Morrow (1960) 364-365 recognizes that bacchic dances do not fit into the Laws’ classification scheme, and wonders why Plato does not establish a third class specifically for these forms.

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hēmeteron (indisputably ours), words of a legal character, which I would like to press here. 46 In these two terms we find the choral taxonomy’s political limits, and so perhaps a solution to the intent of the phrase ou politikon. There are disputable and indisputable dances, and they are not merely to be distinguished, but severed thoroughly from one another (diatemein, temnein). The indisputable dances are classified and configured as the dances of war and of peace, that is, the spoudaion class. These dances, says the Athenian, are “indisputably ours.” Ecstatic dances defy such classification because they involve any number of mimetic objects - maenads, sileni, satyrs, Pans, men and women - imagined and real, in public and in private contexts. Sometimes enthousiasmos is real, but sometimes it is merely represented and likewise with drunkenness; that is, there is no clear or predictable distinction between representation and reality, so they elude ethical classification and regulation. Ecstatic dancing involves the unmediated transfer of psychic movement to the body. The figures represented are too varied in nature to be categorized as having one condition of soul or another, and so these dances are questionable, that is, they are not compatible with the war and peace configurations of the spoudaion class (or the phaulon class, for that matter). Indeed, it is impossible to isolate and identify their essential elements, as one can with the two other classes, which one must be able to do in order to fashion a choral repertoire appropriate for the state. The ecstatic class of dance is, therefore, described as ou politikon. 47 This phrase explicitly contrasts the ecstatic dances with the dances of war and peace; the war and peace

46

In the passive, the word does not have a particularly legal application, but means merely to be questionable or debatable: Laws 641e1; Republic 475e; 581e; Sophist 225b; Statesman 276b; Aristotle Politics 1275a2; Thucydides 6.10, 7.18; Isocrates 4.19. In Attic law it means to lay claim to the property of the deceased or an heiress: Isocrates 19.1, 19.3, Demosthenes 3.5, 44.38; Isaeus 3.1; 3.61; 6.3. 47

The phrase is variously translated and its weight variously interpreted. England (1923) vol 2, 303: "unfit for civilized community;” Morrow (1960) 374 “beyond the scope of the legislator;” Pangle (1988) and Folch (2006) 191 "not political.” Perhaps “not belonging to the state or administration,” i.e., not political or public: Thuc 2.40;

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dances of the spoudaion class, which are “indisputably our own,” are also to be understood as politikon. By extension and contrast the ecstatic dances, precisely because they are ou politikon, should be understood as ouch hēmeteron (not our own). It may be that these dances are simply not to be performed by citizens, but the Athenian Stranger does not assign these dances to foreigners or slaves, as he does with comedy. Morrow observes Plato’s ambivalence about excluding ecstatic dance altogether from Magnesia.48 There is surely tension between the traditional place of ecstatic dancing as a religious activity and Plato’s desire for an unambiguous choral world, but he seems to decide in favor of a clear choral economy which, in the emphatic language of legality and ownership, excludes bacchic dancing from the choral repertoire of Magnesia.

Conclusion to Part One After describing the origins and naming of the pyrrhichē and emmeleia, the Athenian Stranger says it is these dances the nomothetēs must describe in outline and the nomophylax formulate in detail (7.816c2-d2). The choral taxonomy privileges the spoudaion class of dance to the exclusion of comedy and tragedy, which the text treats with abundant mistrust. In their inherited Athenian forms, they constitute an ethical unit, imitating the discordant and selfignorant soul in unrestrained expressions of joy and sorrow, the kind of laughter and tears Democr 157; Plato Protagoras 319a; Gorgias 521d; not public: Thuc 8.89; not official, that is, unconstitutional: Aristotle Politics 1305b10; Isocrates 4.79. 48

England (1923) vol 2, 303. While Morrow suggests that these dances are to be left alone by the legislator beyond his sphere of influence, that is, as outside the jurisdiction of law because of its religious antiquity and authority, Magnesia is a religious and choral state in which all religious and choral activity is legislated. It seems highly unlikely therefore that this would be the only piece of choral activity not subjected to legislation without being more prominently marked as such.

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Magnesians are to moderate (5.732c1-d4).49 Both, however, are permitted in Magnesia, but in circumstances so restricted that it is difficult to imagine them in Magnesia at all. Before we draw any further conclusions regarding their place in Magnesia, it will be helpful to return briefly to the Philebus, where threnody is joined to the ethical unit of comedy and tragedy. All three, says Socrates, on stage and in life, mix pains with pleasures (50b), and so all three represent and invite discord in the soul.50 When we come to the Laws we find they again are considered an ethical unit. The Athenian Stranger introduces threnody in his description of public choruses that compete with one another in stirring listeners to tears, likening such performances to dirges (threnoi): καὶ εἴ ποτ’ ἄρα δεῖ τοιούτων οἴκτων γίγνεσθαι τοὺς πολίτας ἐπηκόους, ὁπόταν ἡμέραι μὴ καθαραί τινες ἀλλὰ ἀποφράδες ὦσιν, τόθ’ ἥκειν δέον ἂν εἴη μᾶλλον χορούς τινας ἔξωθεν μεμισθωμένους ᾠδούς, οἷον οἱ περὶ τοὺς τελευτήσαντας μισθούμενοι Καρικῇ τινι μούσῃ προπέμπουσι τοὺς τελευτήσαντας; For if it is ever really necessary for citizens to listen to such piteous wailing, let it be not on days good for feasts, but on days of ill omen, and it would be better for the choruses to be hired from abroad, in the same way that hired mourners escort the dead with Carian music (7.800d7-e2).51 If it is necessary for citizens to hear such lamentation, they will not at least perform it; hired foreigners will. Yet the sumptuary regulations for funerals limit the time and money any citizen can spend on the dead (4.717d8-e1; 12.959c4-d3), and the restrictions on public displays of grief

49

Cf. Republic 388e; 606c.

50

On Plato’s grouping of threnody, comedy and tragedy see Nightingale (1995) 99-102. Discord leads to disorderly movement; choral education can train both the body and soul in orderly movement. We will explore this in the next chapter. 51

katharai hēmerai are, literally, ceremonially pure days, that is, days good for sacrifices and feasts; apophras indicates profane or unlucky (literally, not to be mentioned). Cf. Lysias frag. 53.2; Plutarch Alcibiades 34.

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are severe (5.732c1-7; 12.959e11-960a5). Furthermore, the Magnesian festival calendar designates three hundred and sixty-five days per year for state sacrifices and feasts (8.828a1-b2), and dirges would be restricted to days not good for sacrifice (mē katharai). With such prohibitive measures to discourage any such practice, we must wonder if threnody would be permitted at all. Plato employs a similar strategy for comedy. Invoking the science of contraries, the Athenian Stranger acknowledges that there is some value to watching comedy, inasmuch as it can teach us how not to behave. Like threnody, however, it will be practiced and performed only by slaves and foreigners, not by citizens: δούλοις δὲ τὰ τοιαῦτα καὶ ξένοις ἐμμίσθοις προστάττειν μιμεῖσθαι, σπουδὴν δὲ περὶ αὐτὰ εἶναι μηδέποτε μηδ’ ἡντινοῦν, μηδέ τινα μανθάνοντα αὐτὰ γίγνεσθαι φανερὸν τῶν ἐλευθέρων, μήτε γυναῖκα μήτε ἄνδρα, καινὸν δὲ ἀεί τι περὶ αὐτὰ φαίνεσθαι τῶν μιμημάτων. ὅσα μὲν οὖν περὶ γέλωτά ἐστιν παίγνια, ἃ δὴ κωμῳδίαν πάντες λέγομεν, οὕτως τῷ νόμῳ καὶ λόγῳ κείσθω. And so we will order slaves and hired foreigners to represent such things, and there will never be any serious attention paid these things, nor will any free person be seen learning them, neither woman nor man; and something novel must always be seen in their representations. Let such then be the law and argument for the absurd performances which every one calls “comedy” (7.816e5e817a1).52 Folch makes a compelling case for both threnody and comedy as alien forms of discourse, the former representative of a pessimistic world-view and the latter of an aggressive world-view, both staged articulations of the political and ethical boundaries between citizen and non-citizen; threnodic and comic genres become associated with non-citizen behaviors, and are thereby stigmatized for citizens.53 This “performance of alterity,” in which the virtue of the spectator-

52

I read mathein here as “understand;” cf. Euthydemus 277e; Republic 394c; Aeschylus Choephoroi 767; Lysias 10.15. Folch (2006) 157 n. 8 understands manthano to mean “learning through rehearsal with the intention of performance as rehearsed,” and cites similar usage in the Laws. However, in the aorist, it seems to imply understanding more than the process of learning or practicing. 53

Folch (2006) 120-133.

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citizens is reinforced by the lowliness of the performing disenfranchised, serves also to unify the citizenry in their collective virtuous identity, and the boundary is further enforced by the prohibition against citizens engaging in ridicule or being ridiculed (11.935e4-936a2).54 Yet if comedy, threnody and tragedy still form an ethical unit, as in the Philebus, what then of tragedy? Recall the close of the Lawgiver’s projected speech to the tragic poets, in which he maintains that the whole state would be insane if they allowed the kind of performances typical of Athenian tragedy. However, they can still audition: “νῦν οὖν, ὦ παῖδες μαλακῶν Μουσῶν ἔκγονοι, ἐπιδείξαντες τοῖς ἄρχουσι πρῶτον τὰς ὑμετέρας παρὰ τὰς ἡμετέρας ᾠδάς, ἂν μὲν τὰ αὐτά γε ἢ καὶ βελτίω τὰ παρ’ ὑμῶν φαίνηται λεγόμενα, δώσομεν ὑμῖν χορόν, εἰ δὲ μή, ὦ φίλοι, οὐκ ἄν ποτε δυναίμεθα.” “Now then, o children sprung of the gentle Muses, first audition your songs alongside ours for the judges, and if your words seem to be the same as ours or better, we will grant you a chorus. But if not, friends, we will never be able to” (7.817c1-d9). Tragic poets wanting a chorus must compose according to the musical laws of euphēmia (auspicious speech) and the Magnesian discourse. If their dramatic heroes are courageous and moderate, self-knowing, and if they communicate in speech and in movement that the just life is the most pleasant, their tragedies will be allowed in Magnesia. The terms of performance are full of roadblocks and irony for the genre of tragedy as Plato knew and understood it. Still, they point to the very kinds of revisions the nomophylax is to undertake (7.816c2d2; 835a9-b5). Such revision requires the isolation of a dance’s essential components and a clear mimetic configuration within which to manipulate the ethical frame of the dance. If the Lawgiver and his Law Guardians retain the essential dramatic components of tragedy, comedy, and threnody, the revisions will be drastic, but not entirely beyond imagination. The Lawgiver can

54

Ibid., 150-160.

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determine a clear, ritual framework for them, and from there construct choral genres compatible with the ethical parameters of the choral taxonomy and Magnesian discourse. Bacchic dancing defies this process of rebuilding, because by its very nature it defies generic definition on practical and ontological levels. The very qualities that may make ecstatic dancing psychologically therapeutic in restricted circumstances (7.790d2-e4) render it directly opposed to Plato’s choral psychology, which, I will argue in the next chapter, aims to mediate the transfer of psychological movement to the body in order to prepare the individual to learn virtue.55

Part Two: Dancing in Magnesia A. The Pyrrhichē The Athenian Stranger describes the two categories of pyrrhichē - its defensive and offensive repertoires, and we turn to them now in detail as a description of how the pyrrhichē is danced in Magnesia: τὴν πολεμικὴν δὴ τούτων, ἄλλην οὖσαν τῆς εἰρηνικῆς, πυρρίχην ἄν τις ὀρθῶς προσαγορεύοι, τάς τε εὐλαβείας πασῶν πληγῶν καὶ βολῶν ἐκνεύσεσι καὶ ὑπείξει πάσῃ καὶ ἐκπηδήσεσιν ἐν ὕψει καὶ σὺν ταπεινώσει μιμουμένην, καὶ τὰς ταύταις ἐναντίας, τὰς ἐπὶ τὰ δραστικὰ φερομένας αὖ σχήματα, ἔν τε ταῖς τῶν τόξων βολαῖς καὶ ἀκοντίων καὶ πασῶν πληγῶν μιμήματα ἐπιχειρούσας μιμεῖσθαι. 56

55

The Corybantic curative rites are alluded to in the discussion of mothers applying motion to sleepless children (rocking them to sleep); the mothers and the priestesses understand the principle behind their similar practices, that external motion can impose order on internal motion. See also Folch (2006) 188-189; for a full discussion, see Linforth (1946a) 121-126. 56

On the averted head schema in fifth-century vase painting, see Chapter Two, pages 27-28.

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Of these [dances] the war dance, since it is the opposite of the peace dance, one rightly ought to call the pyrrhichē, and it represents the avoidance of sword thrusts and missile strikes by means of averting the head, full dodging, leaping upward and crouching low; it also aims to represent the opposite [movements] that incline toward offensive postures, in the shooting of arrows and javelins and the imitations of all weapon thrusts (7.814e12815a8). The schēmata (movements) of this dance may call to mind the “wicked pyrrhics” of Neoptolemus in his last stand at Delphi (Euripides Andromache 1129-1141) or the varied weapon dances offered up to the troops as entertainment in Anabasis 6.1.5-13. They do not, however, reflect the Athenian pyrrhichē or any other single weapon dance with which we are familiar.57 In fact, Plato intentionally sets this pyrrhichē apart from historical weapon dances not just in its repertoire, but also in its tempo, inclusiveness, and frequency of performance.58 Since armed dances typically involve the use of one shield and one offensive weapon, the choreography for any given weapon dance would naturally be limited to the movements characteristic of engagement with and against that dance’s weapon.59 The Magnesian pyrrhichē, however, reflects the use of every kind of offensive weapon - spears, swords, axes, javelins, bows and arrows – and the defensive maneuvers employed to thwart them. This expansive 57

Scarpi (1979) 78-97, esp. 81-83, argues that Plato’s pyrrhichē is, in fact, a Spartan dance. He argues from Apuleius 10.29.34, in which boys and girls dance a Greek pyrrhichē together. Apart from the anachronism, he takes little account of the Laws or its choral program and assumes that Plato is describing a particular dance performance, rather than a dance that he has reconfigured to meet the demands of the ideal city. 58

Plato may also be avoiding commonly known dance terminology in favor of a martial vocabulary. See Naerebout (1997) 276-289, who has compiled a vocabularium of classical and late antique dance terms. While the sources on dance schēmata are by and large late, they do suggest the existence of a dance vocabulary in classical times. But apart from the noun ἐκνεύσεσι, which indicates the averted head schēma, Plato employs the language of battle. The terms πληγῶν καὶ βολῶν are from the semantic field of battle: πληγῶν refers to weapon strikes, as of a sword, axe, or spear, as in Pindar Pythian 4.346; βολῶν refers to strikes from a missile, again implying a weapon, as in Od. 17.283. For dance terms collected in later authors, see Plutarch Moralia 747c; Libanius Saltationes 113; Pollux 4.100, passim. On Plutarch’s dance terminology, and on the code of gestures and movements in fifth-century Athens, see Lawler (1954) 148-158. 59

See Chapter Two, pages 25-26.

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repertoire implies real variety; it also raises the issue of utility.60 A reasonable interpretation of this uniquely comprehensive repertoire is that it is an amalgam of several weapon dances, that is, the ideal or generic weapon dance.61 This interpretation fits securely with Plato’s aim to jettison the inherited associations of the pyrrhichē, but it neglects his complementary aim to fashion an ethically sound weapon dance that will satisfy the overarching requirement of all activity in Magnesia – utility in both war and in peace.62 The utility of the Magnesian pyrrhichē in war is ensured, in great part, by its expansive repertoire. However, we would be missing the mark to attribute this pyrrhichē or any of its discrete elements to a particular regional weapon dance. This is a distinctly Magnesian choral form Plato has fashioned, and we need look no further than the gymnasia and training fields of the fictional city itself for a choreographic model. Gymnasia and training grounds are constructed for all Magnesian children to train in an array of military skills and for adults to continue practicing them (6.761c6-d4; 7.804c2-805a2; 813de814; 8.829b6-8).63 At the age of six, Magnesian children begin learning “the use of bows and all kinds of missiles, light skirmishing and every kind of hoplomachia, tactical evolutions, company-marching, camp formations, and all the details of cavalry training” (7.813d10-e3), a training program that resonate with the description of the pyrrhic movements (814e12-815a8). 60

The Athenian pyrrhichē was, like most weapon dances, primarily symbolic. On the symbolic function and nature of weapon dances across cultures, see Chapter One, pages 17-18. Wheeler (1982) 231 stresses mock combat as the key component to non-symbolic, practical weapon play. 61

Downes (1904) 101 and Poursat (1968) 552-553 make these very claims, supported by the literary and visual evidence. 62

Usefulness for the state in both war and peace, a prevalent theme in the dialogue, is the criterion for all appropriate activity: contests as useful in both (7.796d1-5; 8.830a8-b3); of number, especially 5040, as an organizational principle (7.738a2-b2); on training girls in hoplomachia (7.795c3-7); on wrestling (7.796a6-10); the dance for Athena (7.796c1-5); all dances (8.830d3-6); general activity of the body (8.832e8-10); mathematics (7.809c4-7; 819c2-d5). 63

Plato makes special mention of women taking part in this training, so that, on Athena’s example, they too can bear arms and defend their state (7.806a1-b7; 814a4-5).

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Plato likely culled the schēmata of the Magnesian pyrrhichē from numerous historical weapon dances, but together, they are rooted in and reflect the Magnesian collective experience of combat training.64 Like combat training, the pyrrhichē would likely be accompanied by the aulos, the customary musical accompaniment to military and athletic activities.65 The instrument is banned from Callipolis for its potential to stir up passions dangerous to the state (Republic 3.399d). And, apart from one brief mention of auletic competitions (6.764e1), it is mentioned only twice again in the Laws, and then only in reference to its abuses (2.669e1; 3.700d8-11).66 It is entirely ignored in Magnesian musical education, so it is impossible to gauge its range of use in Magnesia. Plato does seem still to favor the lyre, the only musical instrument in which Magnesians receive formal training (7.810a1-3; 812d1-e9), but since he neither condemns nor rejects outright the use of the aulos in military contexts, it is reasonable to suppose that the pipes would set the tempo for marches, drills, contests, and the pyrrhichē. While the text is also silent on the musical mode of the pyrrhichē, Socrates tells us in the Republic (399a4-b1) that the

64

The combat training and war games are themselves a mimetic activity, their objective to come as close as possible to the real thing, i.e., battle (8.830b1-6). 65

Athenian pyrrhichēists, Mantinean weapon dancers, and students of hoplomachia were customarily accompanied by the flute, as were soldiers marching in formation and engaging in battle. See Pritchett (1974) vol. 1: 106-107; Wheeler (1982) 228. For the visual evidence of auletic accompaniment to pyrrhichē practice and performance, see Poursat (1968) 561-563. On the flute as accompaniment to Dionysiac, as well as armed dances, see Haldane (1966) 98-107, esp. 101-102. West (1992), 28-30 describes the other non-military activities, such as manual labor, for which an aulētēs provided accompaniment. 66

Cf. 6.764d8-e3, where competitions are described as either monodic (for rhapsodes, kitharoedists, and auletes) or mimetic (for choruses). Haldane (1966) 101-102, citing Aristoxenus (Frag 95), believes the flute did not require training or skill and that most anyone could learn to play it without paying for a tutor. However, visual evidence argues to the contrary, for which see Anderson (1994), 195, and Pickard-Cambridge (1968, repr 1988) 74-77, who cites the demand for highly skilled aulētēs for the dithyrambic performances in the City Dionysia. The pipes were considered by many vulgar and without any intrinsic educational value; see West (1992), 33 on the Pythagoreans’ distaste for the pipes; also Aristotle Politics 1340b33-1341b8 for the story of Athena’s rejection of her own invention when she discovered it caused the face to become disfigured in the playing. Aristotle suggests the real reason she threw the aulos away was that it contributed nothing to the intellect.

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Dorian and Phrygian modes are best suited to representing the courageous man in battle, the former suitable to a fast-paced dance and the latter to a march. Since Magnesian pyrrhicists alternate between a fast dance and slow march while in full armor (7.796b1-3; 796c7-d1), we might reasonably assume Dorian and Phrygian modes for this dance.67 Plato incorporates the movements and music associated with combat and combat training into the Magnesian pyrrhichē, endowing this fictional dance with a practical dimension that sets it apart from its more symbolic historical counterparts. In fashioning a weapon dance that is useful as well as symbolic, Plato aims to fashion citizens who are useful in war, as well as in peace.68 The civic dimension of his pyrrhichē reveals itself in the inclusivity of the dance, particularly in the chorus’ morphology, yet another significant departure from the Athenian model.69 While the Laws is silent regarding the number of pyrrhicists in a chorus, it is eminently clear regarding the genders and age span of Magnesian pyrrhicists: all boys, girls, young men, and women between the age of six and military age, as well as the men in military service, dance the pyrrhic (7.796c5-10; 12.942d3-5).70 The Athenian Stranger does not specify whether the

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Wheeler (1982) 224 distinguishes mock combat as the central feature of hoplomachia; weapon dances, even those that include full armor, are still primarily symbolic and are not to be confused with weapons training. Dancing and marching in armor should be distinguished from hoplomachia, which is characterized by mock combat and found on the training grounds and in the monthly tribal and statewide field competitions (8.833a6-834d8). See also Ceccarelli (1998) 19. 68

Vernant (1999), 234-235 observes the radical move in the Laws to create a real citizen soldiery, the standing army that always eluded Athens. See especially 8.829e6-831a4, where the whole citizenry is trained as a single army, indeed thought of as a single army in constant preparation for war during peace. 69

See Chapter Two, pages 27-28 on the morphology of the Athenian pyrrhichē chorus.

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Six is the age at which children begin formal lessons (7.794c3-d2), and twenty marks military age for male citizens, and this extends to the age of sixty (6.785b6-7). Girls will dance until they marry, between the ages of sixteen and twenty (6.785b2-4). I suggest that women’s military service begins roughly at forty, when they are eligible for military office, and ends at fifty. Saunders (1995) 595 understands the child-bearing period for women to last until the age of forty; Bobonich (2002) 386 and Folch (2006) 243 follow suit. However, there is a procreation period of ten years (7.783d9-e1l 784b1-3). Girls marry between sixteen and twenty; once married they are committed to the ten-year procreation period, so their childbearing years come to an end between twenty-six and thirty-one. However, child-rearing may be what keeps them from re-entering public life until the age of forty. There

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pyrrhic choruses are segregated or mixed, but since boys and girls are educated separately and trained for gender specific dances (7.794c4-d2; 802d9-803a1), we might well infer that they perform the pyrrhichē in gender specific choruses, as well, but they do all perform it; it is also reasonable to infer that they would perform in age classes, as with the monthly field competitions: paides from six to thirteen (or puberty, whichever comes first) and ageneoi (youths) from thirteen to twenty.71 The only exemptions would seem to be young women once they marry and begin bearing children and the older members of the Chorus of Dionysus, yet these exemptions express not political, but physiological considerations. Significant for the civic dimension is that neither gender nor property class will exclude any Magnesian from performing the weapon dance, a considerable revision of the Athenian pyrrhic dance event, which is performed solely by males, and very likely only those from well-to-do families.72 Moreover, from a utilitarian point of view, including girls and young women among the ranks of trained pyrrhicists expands the citizen army, a clear benefit to any state.73 The Athenian Stranger cites Athena, who herself enjoys dancing in full armor, as the model for boys and girls to imitate, for doing so is useful both in war and in peacetime, inasmuch as the dance prepares them for war and adorns festivals (7.796b3-c5). Yet for this dance to serve is flexibility – the law wardens will find ways for women to engage in military work as is befitting their age (6.785b7-12), and the Athenian Stranger explicitly states that females will march and dance in arms while girls and then when grown women (7.813e7-814a5). 71

Morrow (1960) 282-283 and Perlman (1983) 121 suggest Plato follows the Spartan custom of two age groups for competing girls and young women. On the age classes for the statewide monthly athletic contests, see 8.833c4-d5. 72

Cf. 5.744c4-e6. There are four property classes, the fourth of which has at least the value of its allotted land; the third has twice as much the value of the land, the second three times as much, and the first no more than four times as much. 73

Cf. 7.794d5-795d5: the Athenian Stranger presents the utility of training women in the arts of peace and war with the analogy of training both left and right hands, as well as training the entire body in any endeavor. Also 7.804d8805b1, where women will engage in the same physical training and pursuits as men; and 806a4-b9, where they will take full share in the duties of peace and of war.

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as practical an aim as preparedness for war, we should expect it to be performed more frequently than the annual or quadrennial Athenian weapon dance. The Athenian Stranger states: τοῖς δέ που παισὶν εὐθύς τε καὶ ὅσον ἂν χρόνον μήπω εἰς πόλεμον ἴωσιν, πᾶσι θεοῖς προσόδους τε καὶ πομπὰς ποιουμένους μεθ’ ὅπλων τε καὶ ἵππων ἀεὶ κοσμεῖσθαι δέον ἂν εἴη, θάττους τε καὶ βραδυτέρας ἐν ὀρχήσεσι καὶ ἐν πορείᾳ τὰς ἱκετείας ποιουμένους πρὸς θεούς τε καὶ θεῶν παῖδας. So let it be binding for children and those straight up to military age to be outfitted with arms and horses as they approach and form processions to all the gods, and alternating quick and slow in dances and march make supplication to the gods and the gods’ children (7.796c5-d1). Dancing in armor is what Plato calls the pyrrhichē, and young Magnesians dance and march in armor in all processions to altars and temples. This suggests that the pyrrhichē is performed with great frequency as a regular component of ritual activity. In practice, processions would precede sacrifice, and sacrifices are made daily. The Athenian Stranger consecrates at least three hundred and sixty-five days of the year to some feast and sacrifice, with the express purpose of daily sacrifice to some god by some official “on behalf of the city, its people, and their possessions” (8.828a2-b4).74 The question is whether or not processions - and the armed dance and marching accompany these daily official state sacrifices. The text is not explicit, but it does seem to

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Plato seems to intend a solar calendar for Magnesia, so that every day (except, perhaps, for the one extra day every four years to account for the 365.25 days per year) is a holy day. Textual evidence supports this: magistrates take office (6.767c4-d1) and the citizens meet to select the examiners (12.945e4-6) after the solstice. The Magnesian year contains twelve months, analogous with the twelve districts and the gods to which each district is dedicated. A solar calendar year preserves the seasons and allows for the division of twelve (a lunar calendar would sever religious observations from related seasonal phenomena). Given Plato’s concerns with proportion and the preservation of the religious occasions of performance (feast dates and seasons would be among them), a solar calendar year is the most compatible with the strict units of twelve. On Plato’s concerns with religious and calendric stability in the Laws, see Kowalzig (2004), esp. 241. On solar and lunar calendars in general and in antiquity, see Samuel (1972) 10-13. Of Athens’ three calendars, the festival calendar was based on the lunar, but festival dates were often changed by the archons, hence a date in the lunar calendar would be described as kata theon, while a date in the festival calendar would be kat’archonta. Retardation of the festival calendar seems to have been common: Pritchett (2001) 8-12 and Samuel (1972) 57-58. The discord between calendars is alluded to in Aristophanes’ Clouds 615ff, in which Athenians are described as feasting the gods on the gods’ days of fasting and vice versa.

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suggest that full ritual activity, which includes procession, sacrifice, hymns, and feasting, is what Plato intends for Magnesian daily religious practice. First, the words for feast (heortē) and sacrifice (thusia) and their verbal counterparts are conflated in the Laws, as they were historically, so that elements of the feast were often implied in the term for sacrifice, and vice versa.75 Heortē and its verbal forms refer to a festival or holy day or feast following a sacrifice; thusia can mean the actual sacrifice of the victim, but by implication it came to refer to the feast (heortē) that followed. Next, processions (prosodos and pompē) served to escort the sacrificial victim to the altar for sacrifice. While in historical practice, singing and dancing was not necessarily a component of either the procession or the rites around the altar, we must remember that Plato is fashioning a corrective to contemporary choral – and so religious – practices. 76 Furthermore, the Athenian Stranger explicitly states that sacrifices must be linked with play - paidiai (8.829b8); indeed, sacrifices and choral performance are to be designed and reviewed in tandem (6.772b6). Also, the shared etiology of feasts, song and dance – central to the Laws’ understanding of choreia as paideia – provides the model and authority for ideal daily religious and choral practices (2.653d1-654a5). More to the point, religious activity – processions, sacrifice, hymns, prayers, dancing and feasting – is central to Magnesia’s choral world. It is the serious play in which Magnesians must continuously engage, in order to live nobly.77

75

ThesCRA I (2004) 61-62; Cf. 7.809d3; 835b4; 835e1; 828c2; 816c4; 12.9492-4.

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Historically, choral performance could be central or incidental to a rite, although in the major festivals held in sanctuaries, it was usually lavishly funded and organized competitively, as we have seen in the Panathenaia. Cf. ThesCRA II (2004) 310-312. 77

And which Plato makes possible through unparalleled leisure: 2.665c27; 4.716d5-e1; 7.803d10-e4; 7.803e; 8.828d; 835e.

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We should not expect the full details of the festival calendar, since those are left mostly to the nomophylax (7.816c2-d2; 8.828b4-6), but we should expect a festival calendar that involves daily processions with armed dancing and marching by girls and boys up to military age, followed by sacrifices, feasts and the hymns and dances appropriate to the god being honored. The text is not explicit about the hymns and dances performed around the altar, so we are left to conjecture there. In general outline, festival activity will include statewide monthly festivals to the twelve gods (8.828b8-c3), as well as two monthly tribal festivals to one of the twelve (6.771d2-9), as well as women’s festivals (828c4-6). The nomophylax will draw up the list of the annual feasts, and the gods and hymns and dances that belong to them (7.799a4-b5), as well as which feasts should be biennial or quadrennial (8.834e6-835a2). To return to the pyrrhic, it would seem to be a processional dance in Magnesia (7.796b13; 796c7-d1).78 If this is the case and if processions precede all sacrifices, then the pyrrhichē is not merely inclusive, but it is prevalent. So, then, is Athena, in whose honor it is danced. In Book Seven, the Athenian Stranger states that boys and girls should imitate the goddess who rejoices dancing fully armed (7.796b3-c4), and that women imitate her by wielding spear and shield in defense of their city (7.806b2-7). As the citizen-soldier-dancer par excellence (2.666e9-667a6), she is a most appropriate object of emulation and imitation. In addition to the daily pyrrhichē performances that invoke her presence and favor (7.796b3-4), temples to the goddess adorn the acropolis (along with only Zeus and Hestia) and the center of each village (6.745b7-9; 8.848d59).79 While the Athenian Stranger maintains that any one of the armed dances of Crete, Sparta or

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Xenophon On Horsemanship 3.2-4 for an armed procession.

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Indeed, Athena worship permeates Magnesian life with a subtlety, modesty and inclusiveness in marked contrast with Athenian extravagance and elitism. Given the assimilative force of choreia, regular and continuous imitation or

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Athens would be appropriate to imitate (7.796b3-6), he immediately specifies that it is the goddess (τὴν τῆς θεοῦ χάριν τιμῶντας) – not the Dioscuri or the Couretes – whom young Magnesians should emulate and whose good will in war and peace they should cultivate on a daily basis.80 This raises the question of consecration. The Athenian Stranger argues for the consecration of musical forms in Magnesia based on the Egyptian model, which he extols in Books Two (656d1-657b10) and Seven (799a1-b10). The model dictates that every musical form be composed and performed according to precise specifications that are codified by law. The nomothetēs will set the Magnesian religious calendar according to season and deity, and the nomophylax will specify the feast, the date, the deity and the songs and dances (2.665c2-8; 6.771e-772a; 7.799a2-b10; 804a7-b4). The final step in this process is consecration. Although Plato does not use the language of consecration in relation to any god or dance, the pyrrhichē is the only choral form specified as danced for a particular deity: Magnesians dance in arms for the goddess’ favor in war and in peace (7.796c2-5). 81 Yet what consecration would fix in time are

representation of Athena does not merely reinforce combat skills, but also increases the potential for individuals to assimilate the attributes of the model citizen-soldier. This will be explored further in the following chapter. 80

Morrow (1960) 361 and 435 observes Athena’s “independence from the group,” reflecting on her importance in Athens and possibly Sparta. That all three are invoked provides a neat symmetry. Morrow, 60-63, and 359-360 comments on the appreciation of Spartan and Cretan culture and institutions reflected in Plato’s narrative choices in the dialogue, reflection of her importance in Athens and possibly Sparta (435). On Athena’s importance in Spartan religious life, see Xenophon Lac. Pol. 13.2-3. Pettersson (1992) 120 observes that, though one of the main deities of polis life in Sparta, Athena was not a martial deity, as at Athens. 81

The language of consecration is consistent throughout the dialogue and used in general terms only: καθιεροῦν 7.799b3, 10.909e8; καθιερούτω 12.955e7; καθιερωθεῖσαν 2.756b6; καθιερωθὲν 8.839c3; καθιερωθέντα 7.813a1; καθιερωμένα 11.914b5; καθιερωμένη 7.807a2; ἐπονομάσαι καὶ καθιερῶσαι 5.745d8, 7.799a4; καθιέρωσαν 5.738c5; καθιερώσαντα 7.816c5; καθιερώσας 8.838d6; ἐπανορθωτέα καὶ καθιερωτέα 7.809b6.

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not the performances themselves nor even their formal features, but rather their occasions of performance.82 There are numerous options for combining the offensive and defensive schēmata and so ensuring variety (2.665c2-8). Furthermore, given the age span of the dancers and the frequency with which the dance is performed, we should expect a pyrrhichē of choreographic range and diversity. Consecration may, as Benardete maintains, end generality, but it does not preclude variety.83 What consecration would stabilize are the mimetic configuration and occasions of performance; specifically, all young citizens, male and female, will perform the pyrrhichē fully armed in every procession preceding sacrifice and feast. They will do so in honor of Athena and in imitation of fair and courageous souls in pitched battle. Finally, they will execute the pyrrhic schēmata with the strength and vigor proper to the courageous person. Regardless of the combination of schēmata selected for any given performance, the mimetic, ritual, and political dimensions of the Magnesian weapon dance would be consecrated. Herein lies the pyrrhichē’s unique place in the Laws. While the occasions of performance for other songs and dances are left to the future nomophylax to investigate, select, revise and establish (802d9-e9; 828b; 835a9-b5), the pyrrhichē’s occasions are set forth with exceptional fullness. Indeed, Plato presents the Magnesian pyrrhichē as the final product of the selection and revision process which the nomothetēs and nomophylax are enjoined to undertake. This would make the pyrrhichē the only consecrated dance form in the Laws. This is not to say that it is intended to be the only consecrated dance form in Magnesia, but that as the dialogue’s only 82

Kowalzig (2004) 44-45, 47 maintains that there is variety within a given choral form, while the configuration of dance”s ritual components are what Plato seeks to stabilize. 83

Benardete (2000): 200-201, observes that consecration specifies the deity in whose honor a dance is performed. Consequently, the pyrrhichē cannot be a generic weapon dance if it is danced for Athena, and Benardete correctly observes that it is.

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consecrated form, it serves as an instructional model for the nomothetēs and nomophylax as they fashion the rest of Magnesian choral world, the emmeleia. Moreover, in the pyrrhichē we can discern the discrete steps of investigation, selection, revision, and consecration which the nomothetēs and nomophylax are expected to apply to the other half of Magnesian musical culture, the emmeleia, the dances of peace. The Athenian Stranger assumes the mantle of nomothetēs and identifies the two essential dance categories, along with their names (7.816b8-c2). He understands their evolution, origins, and mimetic configurations (7.814e8-11). Thus he demonstrates for his interlocutors - and the future nomothetēs - the understanding required to build music’s safeguard: the natures of the essential dances, the originals they represent, and their intentions, that is, what they aim to capture mimetically in performance. Next he models the work of the nomophylax by invoking three inherited forms of weapon dance that would have been well known in the ancient world as the kinds of dances that would be appropriate to imitate (7.796b3-c4). He selects from the varied schēmata the offensive and defensive movements (7.814e12-815a8) that best reflect Magnesian combat training and formulates the other elements of the pyrrhichē dance event – divine association, participation, processional format, the dancing in armor, and frequency of performance – to best reflect Magnesian civic ideology.84 In short, he presents the Magnesian pyrrhichē as the paradigm for a philosophically sound choral kosmos, the instructional model for the safeguard of mousikē. 85 Plato reorganizes the pyrrhichē in its occasions of performance, generating a distinctly 84

Some elements have been rejected, the Dioscuri and Corybantes, for example.

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Kowalzig (2004) 47-48 makes the philosophical distinction between Athens and Magnesia a semantic distinction in her description of the “choral kosmos” of Magnesia. By philosophically sound chorality, I mean choral performance that shares the aims of the ideal lawgiver; in more practical terms, song and dance that represents only figures whose characters it is good and serviceable to imitate and assimilate.

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Magnesian dance event that would be certainly be recognizable as a weapon dance to his contemporaries. However, in its occasions of performance it differs profoundly from its historical counterparts, with far-reaching religious and political intentions and implications. Plato creates the ideal circumstances for safeguarding the pyrrhichē’s essential nature and for ensuring that it becomes what the Athenian pyrrhichē was not – the dance of the Magnesian male and female citizen-soldier.

B. The Emmeleia The aim of the Lawgiver is to create a state whose first aim is peace and, secondarily, preparedness for war (1.625e8-630d3); the Magnesian standing army is, in fact, designed to spend most of its life singing, dancing, and training for war in peace-time (2.665c2-8; 7.803d2e8; 7.814d1-5; 8.829a10-b2). While the one dance which all citizens learn to perform is the pyrrhichē, this is but half of the Magnesian choral repertoire. The other half is the emmeleia. It is within the configuration of peace, prosperity, pleasure, and moderation that we must begin to imagine the dances of peace. Imagine we must. While the Laws deals systematically with the pyrrhichē’s occasions of performance, it is stubbornly vague regarding the emmeleia. This does not seem to be an oversight, but rather a strategy necessitated by the scope of the dances of peace. Unlike the pyrrhichē, which is a single dance event, the Magnesian emmeleia is the choral category comprising all the dance events whose imagined context is peace, that is, all the dances of the spoudaion class that are not pyrrhichē. The broadness of the category has some historical basis. Ancient texts, both early and late, define emmeleia as tragikē orchēsis; no further explication or details are offered, and so

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emmeleia seems a general technical term referring to any dancing on the tragic stage.86 Its range in the Laws is similarly broad, but as we have seen from the choral taxonomy, it does not extend to tragedy, at least in its contemporary Athenian form. Yet its very name invites association and comparison with its historic counterpart. Plato employs this same strategy with the pyrrhichē, stripping it of its Athenian associations in order to fashion a weapon dance expressing a solely Magnesian ideology. Here, he liberates the emmeleia of its Athenian (tragic) associations and redefines the choral category to suit the ideological claims of Magnesia. Because the Magnesian emmeleia is a broad category, references to its various dances tend to be general and in passing: hymns at sacrifices and prayers to the gods, daemons and heroes (7.799a2-b6; 7.801d10-14); encomia for the dead (7.801e5); hymns for deceased examiners (12.947b3-10), 87 gender specific dances (7.802d9-e3), and courtship dances (771e6772a4); dances are also performed competitively, though the text is no more specific than that (6.764e4-8). Although the emmeleia’s occasions of performance are details left to the nomophylax (7.816c2-4; 8.828a1-6; 8.835b2-5), they do not entirely elude us. Internal evidence permits us to formulate a general outline of the dances of peace. For example, if the pyrrhichē is a processional dance, the emmeleia may assume other formations, e.g., cyclic or rectangular. If Plato intends, as Morrow and Kowalzig suggest, more traditional Dorian choruses for the

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The sources offer no details at all, simply the termination tragikē orchēsis: Aeschylus Frag 27 Play B. Suda 971.1, 972.1; Athenaeus 1.37.7, 14.27.3, 14.28.7, 14.630; Lucian de Salt 26.4; Aristoxenus Fragments 103.8, 104.3, 106.1; Pausanias 36.1; Pollux 4.53.6; 57.4; 99.1; Schol on Arisophanes Clouds 540b; Wasps 1503. It seems also to refer to a generally melodic or graceful style, as in dance or oratory: Herodotus 6.129; Dion. Hal. Dem. 50. Latte (1913) 52, Séchan (1930) 190, and following them, Delavaud-Roux (1994) 154, consider the emmeleia the tragic dance par excellence, an identification impossible to reconcile with the absolute vagueness of the sources; Pickard-Cambridge (1968) 254 more judiciously understands the term to cover every type of dance form and its related emotions one might find in tragedy. 87

The sole exception to the otherwise vague and general treatment of emmeleia are the funerals for the examiners, described in marked detail (12.947b3-e7). This will be discussed further below.

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emmeleia, the cyclic formation might well be favored.88 The significance of such formal differences lies, not surprisingly, in their contrast to Athenian choral practices, which were not particularly traditional. Emmeleia constitutes choreia, in that it comprises song (poetry and music) and dance. Despite the dearth of details regarding choral forms, Folch discerns in the Laws clear parameters for poetic composition, so that what emerges is a poetic repertoire operating soundly within a discourse of praise and consisting almost entirely of hymns and encomia.89 Since Folch’s examination of the parameters for composition offers an already thorough appraisal of poetic composition in Magnesia, I will not seek to recreate his study. However, it should be noted that the laws governing poetic composition in Magnesia are cognate with those governing dance. Hymns and encomia are precisely configured according to the musical laws, which link worshipful language (praise and prayers for only good things) with sacrifice (7.800e12-801b3) and so complement the mimetic configuration for the dances of peace. The Athenian Stranger tell us the good nomothetēs will persuade or compel the poet to compose correctly, so that his music, poetry and choreography all portray men who are temperate, courageous and altogether

88

On the broadness of the term emmeleia in the Laws, see Morrow (1960) 365-370; both he and Kowalzig (2004) 41, 54 agree that Plato intends the category of emmeleia as traditional Dorian dances, as opposed to Athenian choral forms, which offered very little in the way of lyric composition, apart from the dithyramb. See also Calame (1979) 34-35; 64; 79-80, who maintains that the formation of the archaic lyric chorus, for both genders, was cyclical. 89

The laws of music (nomoi mousikēs) are made explicit: euphēmia, euchai, and agathon aitoumenoi – namely, auspicious language, prayers and asking for only what is good (7.801a5-b3). Hymns are defined narrowly in the Laws as prayers addressed to gods (3.700b1-2), a definition found also in Symposium 177a and Republic 607a. Neither hymns nor encomia may be performed for the living person, but only the gods and the deceased and deserving, respectively (7.802a1-6). Folch (2006) 92-99, 103-119, 140 observes lack of precision with which these terms are applied.

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good (2.660a5-9). When Magnesians perform the songs and dances of peace for the gods, in both movement and word they will be imitating virtuous people in prosperity.90 The Magnesian’s lifetime is divided into three choral phases named for the divine authors of paideia, choreia, and wine: the Muses, Apollo, and Dionysos (2.654a3-5). From six to sixty, the Magnesian citizen is successively enrolled in these state choruses (2.664c5-d5), and so in the lifelong pursuit and practice of singing and dancing for the gods (7.807d8-e7).91 At the age of six, children become members of the Muses’ Chorus, which engages them publicly as young citizen-choristers at local and statewide sacrifices and feasts (2.664c5-8).92 Since the children’s chorus is dedicated to the Muses who preside over education, this choral stage will likely correspond to the span of formal education, so that although the chorus is called paidikos, the age

90

The Athenian Stranger’s description of the appropriately discrete musical genres of Athens’ golden age – hymns, dirges, paeans, dithyrambs, and citharoedic nomes (3.700a9-b8) – is not an entirely reliable source for the kinds of performances Plato intends for the Magnesian emmeleia. Dirges are emphatically forbidden for the examiners’ funerals (12.947b5-6); loud mourning and excessive lamentation for other deceased citizens is forbidden in public, though discouraged even in private (12.960a1-2), and general modesty and calm are required in all funeral rites (4.717d8-e3). Any bad choral activity that, like the piteous wailing of hired mourners, incites the grievous passions of others, is restricted to non-holy days (7.800c8-e4). On contemporary religious practices and Plato’s response to them, see Morgan (1992) 238-242. 91

Those over the age of sixty are not required to sing or dance, but they impart the same message through stories. It should be noted that the Three Choruses represent age and political classifications, not three unified performing choruses. If each of the 5,040 households in Magnesia included a freeborn child between the ages of six and eighteen, the Muses’ Chorus would be 5,040 strong. Given the dedication with which couples must procreate for the state (6.783d9-784b3), we might well imagine a Muses’ Chorus double in size. Folch (2006) 232-233 notes that these are political phases, as well, “through which the politically enfranchised participate . . . through which they realize civic values.” The spaces of performances, therefore, are to be understood as the spaces of citizenship. Enrollment in the Muses’ Chorus is the first step of enfranchisement. This illuminates, if slightly, the question of segregation of freeborn and slave; formal education and public choral performance are the rights and duties of the Magnesian citizen. While in Book Two, the Athenian Stranger claims that all freeborn and slave alike should continuously charm themselves (the state) with singing (665c2-8), we should infer only common content of songs, though not common performance. 92

The size of the choruses, if Plato had this detail in mind, might adapt to historic and mythological models of somewhere between ten and fifty choristers; these details are omitted, left to the nomophylax to establish (816c212). See Calame (1997) 21-25, who posits as few as seven but as many as fifty in myth and poetry, but also finds that ten or eleven are historically favored numbers.

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of its members ranges from six to eighteen or twenty.93 Given the age span, we should expect internal differentiation by age, as well as gender.94 We might well imagine two age classes for both genders, comparable to the age classes in the gymnastic competitions: paides from six to thirteen (or puberty, whichever comes first) and ageneoi (youths) from thirteen to twenty.95 In his description of the Three Choruses, the Athenian Stranger seems to refer to the dances associated with cult activity, in which, after the procession and sacrifice, songs and dances would be performed around the altar. For such activity, he tells us the Muses’ Chorus will performs first, and a regular order of appearance seems implied in the following: Πρῶτον μὲν τοίνυν ὁ Μουσῶν χορὸς ὁ παιδικὸς ὀρθότατ’ ἂν εἰσίοι πρῶτος τὰ τοιαῦτα εἰς τὸ μέσον ᾀσόμενος ἁπάσῃ σπουδῇ καὶ ὅλῃ τῇ πόλει The first thing is this: the Muses’ chorus of children should come forward first singing such things before everyone with all eagerness and for the whole city (2.664c5-8).96 If we assume age classes within the Muses’ Chorus, the smallest children would perform hymns of praise and prayer first. The text of the Laws itself, whose message that “one and the same life 93

Historically the term paidikos was not limited to pre-pubescent girls and boys, but could include adolescents of either sex. See Calame (1997) 25. Plato mentions no specific terminus for the children’s chorus. See England (1921) Vol 1, 308 on the lack of precision in the transition from Muses Chorus to Apollo”s Chorus. He offers no resolution, except that it might offer flexibility for an intermediate (ephebic) stage, so it remains unclear when that comes to an end (809e3-810a2) or if it ends at the same time for both genders. 94

Calame (1997) 26-33 suggests three functional age classifications for both males and females in archaic Greece: 1) the period preceding puberty when both boys and girls are considered paides; 2) the period between puberty and marriage: korai, parthenoi, neanides, nymphai or ephēboi, ēitheoi, koroi; and 3) gunaikes and andres. He does stress, however, that the second, adolescent classification, might often be called paidikos. The Spartan model of three choruses is found in Plutarch Lycurgus 21. He also observes the similarity in age of chorus members as a continuing feature throughout the archaic period and into the classical. 95

Morrow (1960) 282-283; Perlman (1983) 121 suggests Plato follows the Spartan custom of two age groups for competing girls and young women. There are three ages classes for the contests: paidikon, ageneiōn/korai and andres/gynaikes (8.833c4-9). From six to thirteen, both boys and girls compete naked as paidika (833e10-d5). At thirteen, korai begin to compete clothed, and will continue to compete thus until they marry. Technically, this should be between the ages of sixteen and twenty (6.785b2-4), but the Athenian Stranger adds that the girls should compete until at least eighteen (8.833d4-5). At thirteen the boys are considered ageneoi. 96

See Golden (1990) 41 on the significant role of cult activity in the child’s introduction to society.

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is declared by the gods to be the most pleasant and the most just,” will provide the content for their songs and dances, indeed all the songs and dances to be performed by all three choruses (2.664b7-3). All three choruses are charged with enchanting the souls of the very young with just this message.97 Given this directive for the content of all three choruses’ songs, as well as the continuity in music among generations, the youngest members of this chorus would perform simpler versions of the songs and dances the older children and adults would be performing. They, along with the older children in their chorus, would likely sing and dance for the gods whose domain and care range from birth to adolescence – Apollo and Artemis.98 For either of these gods, or both, the young boys and girls would perform paeans.99 Though conventionally performed by male choruses, paeans might have involved the ololygē, the female responsorial accompaniment to the main song, but it is not impossible to imagine them performed by girls’ choruses entirely.100 The Athenian Stranger once mentions that children should be trained by gender and learn the songs and dances appropriate to their genders (7.802d9-e3), but children might also perform in mixed choruses, either as two distinct parts of the same chorus or in 97

The young and malleable souls (2.664b3-6) may refer to the children under the age of six, that is, the babies who are carried about by nurses and the smaller children who are in play groups in the temples, all of whom, however are brought to the processions and festivals. This is in keeping with the notion that character formation takes place very early in life (7.791d2-5). 98

And perhaps the third of their triad, their mother Leto. Youths and maidens dance around the tripod for Apollo at Delphi: Herodotus 6.27; Apollonius 1.536-539; Plutarch, de Musica 1132a; Pindar, frag. 526. Both youths and maidens dance for Apollo in the Hyakinthia at Sparta: Euripides Helen 1468-1470; Xenophon Hellenica 4.5.11; Athenaeus 4.139d-f. Only boys and youths dance for Apollo in the Karneia and Gymnopaidia (Athenaeus 15.678bc; Pausanias 3.11.9; Xenophon Hellenica 6.4.16); see also Pettersson (1992) 49-50, 54; Naerebout (1997) 136-137; Calame (1997) 202-203, 318-319; Parker (1989) 142-172. Delos and paeans, see Homeric Hymn to Apollo 146-160; 156-163; Theognis 1.776-779; Lucian Peri Orchēsis 16; Pausanias 4.4.1 99

Calame (1997) 76-78, considers the paean a form of hymn, as well as cyclic. See also Morrow (1960) 366-370; Golden (1990) 65-67; 78-79; Lawler (1964) 100-102; on the flute as accompaniment to the paean, see Golden (1990) 77-78; for lyre as accompaniment, see Lawler (1964) 100-101. 100

The paean’s traditional propitiatory or thanksgiving function, with tutelary deities as the objects of worship, makes the choral form appropriate to a variety of occasions beyond battle, and so perhaps not distinctly male or female in the Magnesian choral world. Calame (1979) 78.

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anamix formation, which alternates boy with girl. As adolescence approaches, boys would continue to sing and dance for Apollo and girls would direct their choral focus on Artemis.101 Boys might also perform dithyrambs for Apollo, although girls might well participate in these dithyrambic choruses or form their very own.102 In both paean and dithyramb, the chorus members would sing in unison, though one possible configuration is that the choregos would sing while the chorus dances.103 If boys and girls perform Apart from the hymns and dances associated with cultic activity, boys and girls would sing and dance for social occasions, particularly those marking life transitions. Noteworthy is the prominent role of child choristers in the funerals for examiners: λευκὴν μὲν τὴν στολὴν ἔχειν πᾶσαν, θρήνων δὲ καὶ ὀδυρμῶν χωρὶς γίγνεσθαι, κορῶν δὲ χορὸν πεντεκαίδεκα καὶ ἀρρένων ἕτερον περιισταμένους τῇ κλίνῃ ἑκατέρους οἷον ὕμνον πεποιημένον ἔπαινον εἰς τοὺς ἱερέας ἐν μέρει ἑκατέρους ᾄδειν, εὐδαιμονίζοντας ᾠδῇ διὰ πάσης τῆς ἡμέρας· ἕωθεν δ’ εἰς τὴν θήκην φέρειν αὐτὴν μὲν τὴν κλίνην ἑκατὸν τῶν νέων τῶν ἐν τοῖς γυμνασίοις, οὓς ἂν οἱ προσήκοντες τοῦ τελευτήσαντος ἐπιόψωνται, πρώτους δὲ προϊέναι τοὺς ἠιθέους τὴν πολεμικὴν σκευὴν ἐνδεδυκότας ἑκάστους, σὺν τοῖς ἵπποισι μὲν ἱππέας, σὺν δὲ ὅπλοις ὁπλίτας, καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους ὡσαύτως, παῖδας δὲ περὶ αὐτὴν τὴν κλίνην ἔμπροσθεν τὸ πάτριον μέλος ἐφυμνεῖν, καὶ κόρας ἑπομένας ἐξόπισθεν ὅσαι τ’ ἂν γυναῖκες τῆς παιδοποιήσεως ἀπηλλαγμέναι τυγχάνωσιν . . . 101

Perlman (1983) 120 suggests the two gymnastic age groups for girls, pre-pubescent and pubescent (described at 833c-834d) as a model for understanding age groups in the Brauronia and, hence, for a new understanding of Lysistrata 641-647. In Sparta, marriageable girls would dance for Artemis in the local Karyatis (Pausanias 3.10.7) and in Attica, mainly at the sanctuaries of Brauron and Mounichia in the Arkteia. On the rites of the Arkteia as the initiation of the young girl into the marriageable parthenos, see Calame (1997) 187-188; 411-420; SourvinouInwood (1988) 2, 50; Lonsdale (1993) 171. There is some epigraphical evidence for pyrrhichēs performed for Artemis in Euboia and on Delos: IG129.191.58; IG129.1190; IG9236.45-46; 237.22-23. 102

Calame (1997) 79-80 does find some support for female dithyrambic performance, either in the form of the responsorial ololygē or as the main choral performance; also see Pickard-Cambridge (1962) 48-49 on the cyclic nature of the dithyramb, its lyric accompaniment and its Athenian performances for Apollo. 103

Calame (1997) 80. Interestingly, given the Laws’ heavy focus on choral activity, the single mention of khoregoi in the dialogue indicates Apollo and the Muses as chorus leaders of people (2.665a4). Private wealth does not fund choruses; the state does.

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There will be only white clothing, and there will be no dirges or lamenting; and a chorus of fifteen boys and another of fifteen girls standing around the bier will sing an alternating hymn of praise in verse for the holy men, praising them in song throughout the whole day; at the next dawn, one hundred young men from the gymnasia will carry the bier to the tomb, young men whom the relatives of the dead have approved and the first to go forth will be the young men each decked out in war gear, cavalry with horses, soldiers with weapons, and so forth; and around the bier, the boys in front will sing the ancestral song, and behind them the girls will follow singing, and behind them, the women no longer of child-bearing years (12.947b3-e7). 104 Children play a central role in what is a defining event in the city; indeed this is the only chorus of the emmeleia whose song is identified, if not entirely understood, and whose number of choristers is specified. Otherwise, regarding children’s choral performances we must speculate, but their performances would likely be communal. Two models may give us an idea of the kinds of children’s choruses Plato might have in mind. Calame very tentatively links the citharodic nomos described in 3.700b6-8 with the kitharoidia, a choral performance in which the choregos plays the lyre and sings the main song and the chorus dances around him, possibly singing in accompaniment. He suggests the chorus on the shield of Achilles (Il 18.566ff) as possible evidence.105 On it is depicted a harvest celebration, in which a boy in central position plays the lyre, while a chorus of youths and maidens dances round him. If Calame is correct in his reconstruction, this type of choral performance would be especially suited to the children of the Muses’ Chorus, as would the “swallow-songs” described by Athenaeus (8.360cd), in which

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The nature of the patrion melos is obviously patriotic, perhaps comparable to a national anthem, but we do not have an historical analogue. Folch (2006) 132 suggests that in intent and content it might resemble the kinds of patriotic dirges for fallen cities described by Alexiou (2002) 83-85. He identifies the skolion of Harmodius by Callistratus as fulfilling a comparable function. 105

Calame (1997) 80-81.

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children proceed from house to house singing a begging song to collect food for the communal meal.106 As the members of the Muses’ Chorus enter puberty, their repertoire of social dances would expand to include initiatory dances, as the girls prepare to be wives and the youths soldiers. 107 The girls will perform partheneia competitively for Artemis or Hera Anthea, for Apollo, and possibly Athena.108 They marry between sixteen and twenty, and so will dance courtship dances with the men of marriageable age, members of Apollo’s chorus (between twenty-five and thirty-five);109 during bi-monthly inter-tribal feasts the koroi and korai will engage in playful dances, scantily clad, in order to see and be seen (6.771e6-772a4).110 The text is silent on the details of marriage rites, except to insist on sumptuary laws forbidding dowries and limiting the number of guests and the amount of money spent on the festivities (5.742c1-3; 6.774c4-7; 775a5-b1).111 Historically, every phase of a wedding celebration was accompanied by dancing, and we can reasonably assume this for Magnesian practice as well.112 Dances of young

106

Discussed, along with other “begging songs,” by Stehle (1997) 39-41.

107

Vidal-Naquet (1986) 129-156, esp. 145-152 stresses complementary rites for boys and girls.

108

Lawler (1964) 102-104; Delavaud-Roux (1994) 24.

109

The text is inconsistent. The marriage age for the men is reported at 4.721a10-c1 and 6.785b2-5 as between thirty and thirty-five, but at 6.772d6-10 the age is between twenty-five and thirty-five. 110

A Spartan practice that would, says Golden (1990) 72, positively scandalize the Athenians - what Lawler (1964) 120 calls “play dances,” essentially social, rather than religious, in nature. Cf. also Eur Andr 595-600; Plut Lyc and Num 3.3-4; for several of these dances, see Athenaeus 14.629e-630a; also Lucian Peri Orchēseōs 12 on the hormos, a chain dance in anamix formation, that is, boy-girl-boy-girl. Delavaud-Roux (1999) 69 considers the famous crane dance, the geranos, among these dances. Dionysius of Halicarnassus Antiquities 1.12.1.describes maidens dancing for Hera. 111

Bride and groom can invite only five friends each. There is historical precedent in late fourth-century Athenian sumptuary legislation limiting the number of wedding guests to thirty (Athenaeus 6.245a). 112

Dances were an assumed part of weddings: Iliad 18.490-496; Odyssey 4.15-19; Euripides Iphigenia at Aulis 435439; 1055-1058; Trojan Women 332-340. On their centrality to wedding celebrations, see Lawler (1964) 44-45; Lonsdale (1993) 206-233; Oakley and Sinos (1993) 24-25, 26; they observe (42) that marriage rites begin and end

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women and men would adorn the two-day feasting and the torchlit procession.113 Youths, as well, as they prepare to integrate into the civic body as adults, will participate in initiatory songs and dances like the Spartan karneia and gymnopaidiai, in which they compete with peers in military skills and physical prowess.114 Between the ages of sixteen (for young women) and twenty (for young men), youths and maidens leave formal lessons and the Muses’ Chorus behind.115 The next choral stage is Apollo’s Chorus, whose members range from age twenty to thirty (2.664c8). This chorus will perform second, after the Muses’ Chorus: δεύτερος δὲ ὁ μέχρι τριάκοντα ἐτῶν, τόν τε Παιᾶνα ἐπικαλούμενος μάρτυρα τῶν λεγομένων ἀληθείας πέρι καὶ τοῖς νέοις ἵλεων μετὰ πειθοῦς γίγνεσθαι ἐπευχόμενος. Next, the [chorus] under the age of thirty will invoke Apollo Paian as witness of the truthfulness of the things spoken [here] and pray that he gently persuade the young (2.664c7-d1). The content of its songs will be compatible with the state sanctioned message that “one and the same life is declared by the gods to be both most pleasant and most just” (2.664b7-3).116 The composition of the chorus, however, will change, as the lives of young men and women take divergent paths. When we come to this transition of both genders to adulthood, the young

with sacrifices to Athena, as well as Artemis, Hera and Demeter; Delavaud-Roux (1994) 92; Calame (1997) 84-85. Like funerals, weddings are subject to sumptuary regulation in Magnesia. The number of guests is limited to five friends on each side, and the number of relatives on each side must be equal; as well, the amount of money the family can spend is restricted (6.775a5-b2). 113

See Oakley and Sinos (1993) 28-36.

114

Athenaeus 154.631b; Lucian 12; Pausanias 13.11.9; see Calame (1997) 318-319; Pettersson (1992) 49-54.

115

Cf. p. 41 n.91. The marriage age for girls is from sixteen to twenty (6.785b1-4), so girls may well leave the children’s chorus before the young men. 116

This chorus will invoke Apollo in his capacity as Paean or healer, in keeping with the medical imagery in the dialogue as it addresses concerns with the health of the state. For movement, dance and music as curative, see 7.790d1-5. On the use of medical imagery in the dialogue, see Clark (1998) 130-152.

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women’s role in public performance diminishes, and while the text is not explicit, it seems most reasonable that the young women are not members of Apollo’s Chorus. Once married, the young women will focus on childbearing and managing the household (6.783d9-784b3), and their life as public choristers does seems to come to an end, until they have finished bearing children.117 However, the women are not shut-ins during this period. When pregnant they continue to walk about, to and from temples, for the child’s prenatal gymnastic (7.789e9-e3), so they are attending festivals, at least as spectators, during pregnancy (6.785b810; 8.833d2-5). But their role as mothers at this time naturally limits their choral activity to ceremonies and festivals appropriate, and probably exclusive, to their gender, condition, and marital status. These might include festivals honoring Demeter, Artemis, Hera and Dionysus, some open to men, others not (8.828c2-5). 118 The text and tradition, then, seem to support an entirely male Chorus of Apollo. The paean’s historically close association with male identity formation and the military, as well as the correspondence between the first ten years of unmarried adulthood and military service support

117

Cf. Shapiro (2004) 310: “Once a woman married, her dancing days were generally over.” Olkin (1979) 51-72 maintains that the women in Magnesia are fairly anchored to a life of domestic duties, in bearing and caring for children, so that gender parity functionally ends with their transition to adulthood. That the Laws almost entirely views women as naturally and morally inferior, see Levin (2000) 81-98; Saunders (1995) 604 and Bobonich (2002) 386-389 present a more optimistic view that while gender parity is not enforced, the opportunities for public service are presented. 118

Married women celebrated Demeter at the Eleusinia: Aristophanes Frogs 440-441; Pausanias 1.38.6-7; Athenaeus (14.629d, 631d) mentions the fertility dances kernophoros and kidaria for Demeter; and Strabo mentions basket dances for the goddess 13.5.626. And an Attic black figure cup (BM 1906.12-15) depicts women in the Thesmophoria. Pausanias describes two choruses of Elean women dancing in the festival of Hera at Olympia; he identifies their dances as the Physcoan and Hippodamian. 5.16.6. Also see Golden (1990) 77; for fertility dances of women, see Lawler (1964) 108-109; Delavaud-Roux 31. At age forty, presumably when the last child is in school, the female citizen becomes eligible for public office and military service (6.785b5-6) and re-enters public life as a participant.

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male exclusiveness.119 At twenty the young men are eligible for military duty (6.785b6-7), and they will serve as soldiers for ten years (12.942a6-943c4), as either hoplite or cavalry (12.943b37).120 As choristers, however, with a view to excellence in war, they shall dance all kinds of dances (12.942d3-6), though we must again speculate on their repertoire.121 They will perform regularly in light armor - paeans, encomia, and dithyrambs competitively, and in the monthly field and gymnastic competitions in full armor (8.829b1-831b1). At thirty, when their tenure on Apollo’s Chorus comes to an end (6.785b4-5; 2.664d1-2), they are eligible for marriage, public office, and they join the third chorus, Dionysus’ Chorus. Its members are between thirty and sixty, and they perform after Apollo’s Chorus (2.664d1-5). There is nothing in the text that supports the notion of women as members of Dionysus’ Chorus, and to suggest that would be to strain the text, so it is most likely that members of Dionysus’ Chorus are male.122 Like the other two choruses, the third is bound to charm the souls of the very young. Their role as performers, however, raises some doubt. Does the Athenian Stranger really expect men over thirty – even men over fifty and up to sixty - to

119

Rutherford (2001), 61-63 observes the close connection of the performance of the paean for Apollo with male civic identity. Folch (2006) 87-89, 244-247 believes that Plato preserves the ephebic function in this chorus, and I would add that the border duty serves a similar function. At twenty-five the young men become eligible for the highly selective border duty, a two-year service for which twelve young men from each tribe are chosen. They are eligible between twenty-five and thirty, and for this they must be selected by the phrourarches for each tribe. The post lasts for two years, and involves traveling clockwise throughout the state, one district per month and then returning counterclockwise the second year, in a capacity comparable to the National Guard, in which they patrol the borders, fix the roads, see to water supplies, maintain rural temple precincts and gymnasia, and beautify the countryside (6.760b6-761d5). 120

This would be the standing army Plato wishes. We have few details about their lives as soldiers (apart from court martials, which are described in detail), but the Athenian Stranger mentions common mess, sentry duty, messenger duty, exercise, marching, and learning to follow orders at all time (12.942b1-c4), continuing the practice, begun in childhood, of ruling and being ruled (12.942c8-d3). 121

On the end of excellence in war, see also 830d; 795d.

122

Folch (2006) 231-232 also suggests a male chorus.

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dance in honor of the gods?123 While it is everyone’s duty to sing hymns (2.665c2-8), the Athenian Stranger ponders how citizens disinclined to public performance because of advanced years, but also capable of the most noble and useful songs for the same reason, might best participate in choral life. At forty, members may join in the sussitia, where they will, with the old men for whom wine is medicinal, invoke Dionysus (2.666b2-5).124 Elizabeth Belfiore suggests that the sussitia referred to in this case would be the feasts associated with the festivals of Dionysus.125 This is a reasonable scenario, and one that we can imagine in fuller context: the procession includes pyrrhichē dancing by boys and girls in full armor by members of the Muses’ Chorus. Other members of the Muses’ Chorus sing hymns around the altar, followed by the male Chorus of Apollo; the third chorus then presides over the feast following the sacrifice, and it is there that they sing and dance, if they are so inclined. While it does not seem requisite, the Athenian Stranger indicates that those over fifty who can still sing, ought to, because they have the greatest knowledge, perception and judgment of what constitutes correct music (2.670b1-6).

123

This chorus has the greatest age span of all three, and it is possible to identify at least one initial, perhaps probationary, phase. For the first ten years of one’s tenure on Dionysus’ chorus, the citizen is still only allowed to drink in moderation, since only at forty may he drink heavily. 124

This first ten years on Dionysus’ Chorus coincides with the time during which a man is obliged to marry and procreate (6.784b1-7), and the Athenian Stranger makes clear the deleterious effects of conceiving a child while drunk (6.775b6-e2). At forty, however, this procreation period has passed and the man (women do seem to be overlooked here) may then drink to excess (2.666b2-6) in the only context in which intoxication is permitted, the sussitia of the elders, in which Dionysus is honored (6.7756-8). It is difficult to tease out a coherent picture of the sussitia in Magnesia. It is said variously to occur on the tribal and family level, but it is not clear which, if either, is the case in this particular instance. It is recognized early in the Laws as presenting the potential for stasis (1.636b2), but its benefits seem to outweigh the dangers. Though Dorian in origin, the sussitia in Magnesia are, like choral performances, a reflection of the citizenry. They include women (6.780e2-781b3), though the Athenian Stranger admits he has not decided whether sussitia should be mixed or not (6.783b5-c4). It is described as both a family activity (7.806e3-807a3) and a tribal one (6.762c1). See E. David (1978) 486-495, who collects the scattered references and provides a helpful comparison to its historical, Spartan counterpart. 125

Belfiore (1986): 434; see also Morrow (1960) 395 on these sympotic meals as one variety of sussitia.

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Unlike the first two choruses who sing and dance before the whole city in procession and around the altar, the third chorus performs during the feasts while people are sitting, drinking and eating. The text is inconsistent on the role of women in the sussitia. Plato may intend for these performances to be before only men, if one possible configuration of the sussitia can be trusted (7.806e2-6), but elsewhere these feasts include women (6.780e2-781b3), although it is not clear if they are present as performers or audience, or if there are any age restrictions. Regardless, wine is the medicine for old age and does what festivals are intended to do: revitalize, cause forgetfulness of cares, temper souls, and make one eager to sing and dance, renewing one’s ability to commune with the gods. The text does not speak to the kinds of songs or dances they would perform. Morrow suggests that the Chorus of Dionysus should not be understood as a literal chorus at all, but rather, given their experience and advanced musical training (2.670c9e1), as the elders who guide the younger generations toward correctness in song and dance.126 However, the Athenian Stranger does seem to imagine that they will perform in a limited setting. For an actual chorus, the only historical comparison we find is the Spartan chorus of elders described by Plutarch (Lycurgus 21), which comprises older men boasting of their glory days as soldiers. We might imagine a Magnesian variation on this: the elders singing (if not dancing), in the context of feasts, hymns that relay the message that “one and the same life is declared by the gods to be the most pleasant and the most just” (2.664b7-3). At the end of the feasting and the hymns and perhaps dances of the third chorus, those over the age of sixty, who form a storytelling group, will charm the souls of the young with their yarns (2.664d.3-5).

126

Morrow (1960) 313-316.

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C. Magnesian Comedy and Tragedy While the performance of comedy is limited to slaves and foreigners, performance of iambic humor, friendly ritual jests, is limited to the members of the third chorus and those even older. They must have proven themselves exceptional in virtue and good deeds before they are given license to comment on citizen behavior with iambics at the monthly field days (8.829c2e6), working soundly within the discourse of praise and blame that is appropriate to citizens. 127 However, we must wonder what the comedic performances of slaves will be like and of what interest they would be to citizens. As an abusive and degrading act of aggression, ridicule is forbidden for citizens to utter and for anyone at all to utter against a citizen (11.934e-935b). Consequently, if we read the text literally, comedies would involve slaves ridiculing slaves or slaves ridiculing non-Magnesians. Since comedy is topical, it may be that a new comic discourse would evolve, but it is difficult to imagine how citizens would find humor in performances that rely on a discourse alien to them. Would the new Magnesian form of humor resemble the kinds of jests Aristotle would later describe as “appropriate to a free man,” and if so, would Magnesians even watch comedy performed by slaves?128 Or will it be that when the two generations expected for a complete transition have passed, the need and taste for comedy will have passed as well, replaced entirely by the distinctly Magnesian humor entrusted to the expertise of the city’s finest citizens? 129

127

Ibid.172. Folch observes the moral authority bestowed upon these individuals who are doling out state-sanctioned praise and blame, a powerful political tool. Regarding festival participation (or the prohibition thereof) of foreigners and slaves in a manner serving primarily to set them apart from citizens, see Wilson (2000) 26 and PickardCambridge (1986) 40-41. Folch (2006) 158-160 believes that Plato not only adopts, but “exaggerates” this feature of Athenian society. 128

Nicomachean Ethics 1128a.20-31.

129

There is a tension in the Laws in regard to slaves’ position as members of the whole community. This isn’t new to the dialogue. Cf. Republic 369b-d. It is not entirely clear if there are slaves in Callipolis or not. Vlastos (1968)

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The Athenian Stranger, in his theoretical encounter with the tragic poets, describes Magnesia as “the representation of the noblest and best life, which is in reality the truest tragedy” (7.817b3-6). Magnesian tragedy – and this passage should be understood both literally and figuratively – must be compatible with the configuration of the spoudaion class and with auspicious speech, precisely what the Athenian has described as the kinds of poetry befitting citizens. Folch suggests that tragedy would be central to performance in Magnesia and to an institutionalized discourse that not only reaffirms the legal code, but more informally supports all manner of public discourse to generate a popular morality.130 I would add that this would involve the representation of fair bodies and noble souls who would make correct, reasoned choices, while either enjoying continued prosperity or emerging from crisis into prosperity. There are theaters in Magnesia, and one can speculate that such dramas could contain tension, crises and resolutions, like, perhaps, morality dramas or children's stories. It would not be recognizable as tragedy to an Athenian audience. If the visiting tragic poets should compete with the state poets in excellence, that is, if they should serve the laws and state by composing poetry that conveyed the value of the just life, they would be admitted. This would imply obedience to the musical law of euphēmia, the approved state discourse, and communicating in speech, song and dance that the just life is the best and the most pleasing life. Folch suggests that the powerful and dangerous genre of tragedy is transformed in the Laws into a performance that is useful to the state, because it is beneficial to the audience inasmuch as it encourages citizens to

291-295 considers slaves an implied part of the community in Callipolis; for an opposing view, see Calvert (1987) 367-372. 130

Folch (2006) 185-186.

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move toward political and individual perfection. I would add that it does so partly through the cultivation of the virtues through choral performance.131

Conclusions In Book Seven, the Athenian Stranger offers a developmental account of the origins of the dances of war and peace. In the distant past, communicative gesturing evolved into dance (7.816a5-7), two noble forms of which emerged, whereupon some sage identified and named them: πολλὰ μὲν δὴ τοίνυν ἄλλα ἡμῖν τῶν παλαιῶν ὀνομάτων ὡς εὖ καὶ κατὰ φύσιν κείμενα δεῖ διανοούμενον ἐπαινεῖν, τούτων δὲ ἓν καὶ τὸ περὶ τὰς ὀρχήσεις τὰς τῶν εὖ πραττόντων, ὄντων δὲ μετρίων αὐτῶν πρὸς τὰς ἡδονάς, ὡς ὀρθῶς ἅμα καὶ μουσικῶς ὠνόμασεν ὅστις ποτ’ ἦν, καὶ κατὰ λόγον αὐταῖς θέμενος ὄνομα συμπάσαις ἐμμελείας ἐπωνόμασε. καὶ δύο δὴ τῶν ὀρχήσεων τῶν καλῶν εἴδη κατεστήσατο, τὸ μὲν πολεμικὸν πυρρίχην, τὸ δὲ εἰρηνικὸν ἐμμέλειαν, ἑκατέρῳ τὸ πρέπον τε καὶ ἁρμόττον ἐπιθεὶς ὄνομα. ἃ δὴ δεῖ τὸν μὲν νομοθέτην ἐξηγεῖσθαι τύποις, τὸν δὲ νομοφύλακα ζητεῖν τε, καὶ ἀνερευνησάμενον, μετὰ τῆς ἄλλης μουσικῆς τὴν ὄρχησιν συνθέντα καὶ νείμαντα ἐπὶ πάσας ἑορτὰς τῶν θυσιῶν ἑκάστῃ τὸ πρόσφορον . . . When one considers many of the ancient names, one must praise them, both for how well and naturally placed they are - one such [name] is for the dances of people in prosperity who are temperate in their pleasures – and how rightly and musically he (whoever he was) named them when he wisely gave to all such dances the name emmeleias and, in fact, established two forms of the noble dances, attributing to each a fitting and harmonious name – the war dance pyrrhic and the peace dance emmeleia; it is these dances the Lawgiver should describe in outline and the Guardian of the Law research and, once he’s investigated them, he should combine the dancing with the rest of music and assign the proper [dance] to each of the sacrifices in all the feasts . . . (7.816b8-c7).

131

Folch (2006) 177-180.

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This passage is significant for several reasons. First, the Athenian Stranger does not offer etymologies, identify authors, or fix the dances’ origins in any specific time or place.132 Consequently, no particular polis, hero, or age can lay claim to the first peace or war dance; the dances are ancient, universal, and so free of any ideological associations. Moreover, they constitute a mimetic and ethical unit, what the choral taxonomy identifies as the spoudaion class of dance. It is these two essential dance forms that the Athenian Stranger authorizes as constituents of the Magnesian choral world, but not wholesale. They still must be examined, assessed, and reconfigured in their occasions of performance so that they are indisputable and fit for this state. Second, Plato chooses the two names perhaps most closely associated with contemporary Athenian choral culture: the pyrrhichē (the dance of the Panathenaia and the Athenian male) and the emmeleia (tragic dances). In selecting these names over more generic, association-free terms, Plato compels his audience to compare the ideal and historical choral worlds, indeed to measure the Athenian dances of peace and war against their Magnesian counterparts. But that is only part of his aim. Here he also draws our attention to the historic and cultural processes by which the primordial dances evolved (or, rather, devolved) into their contemporary Athenian incarnations. If the Athenian pyrrhichē and tragic choruses of Plato’s day were deficient or dangerous, their names at least had once been fundamentally sound representations of the essential dances, and 132

England (1921, vol. 2) 304 observes that we are left to conjecture whence Plato derives pyrrhichē. In fact, Plato carefully avoids any discussion of the derivation of pyrrhichē or emmeleia. Proposed origins and etymologies of the pyrrhichē abounded (see Archilochus fr. 190b; Euripides Andromache 1135; Aristotle fr. 519R; Dionysius of Halicarnassus 7.72.7-8; Strabo 10.4.16 on Cretan origins; Athenaeus 30e-f on the Spartan origins; Pollux 4.99); Timaeus Sophista and Suda tell us that Plato thought emmeleia had gotten its name from lyric poetry (to melos) or that lyric compositions (ta melē) were named from emmeleia. Had Plato wished to associate the origins of either dance type with a particular figure or region, he could have drawn on available etiologies or devised his own. His refusal to etymologize suits the generic aims of the dialogue and his concern for correct representation by words of the objects they describe. For this, see especially Baxter (1992) 105 and Barney (2001) 76.

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the dances themselves, then, must also have been at one time correct representations. However, over time the pyrrhichē and emmeleia changed, viz., their mimetic configurations and occasions of performance, so that neither dances nor names were any longer correct representations of their originals. The processes by which this happened are, in great part, what the Laws seeks to disentangle, understand, and redress. At stake are not merely the symptoms of what Plato seems to have considered a “dysfunctional Athenian choral culture,” but the musical, religious, and political choices that culminated in such dysfunction.133 To this end, the naming of pyrrhichē and emmeleia provides a prequel to Book Three’s chronicle of Athenian musical culture, from the golden age when musical law was sovereign to the subsequent spiral into musical lawlessness and degradation of the Athenian social fabric (3.700a7-701d4). In establishing that song and dance, along with language, were once purer, correct mimetic activities, Plato also suggests that the narrative of Athenian choral culture is but one possible trajectory for mousikē. The Laws presents an alternative trajectory. This alternative is informed by a taxonomy that distinguishes between choral forms that are appropriate for citizens to perform and those that are not. To a great degree, this is a utilitarian distinction. Choreia’s potential for character formation (2.655d5-9; 2.668b10-c1; 7.798d8-10) demands a taxonomy that identifies clearly the choral forms that are beneficial and those that are harmful to the soul and to the pursuit of virtue. I am not convinced that the Athenian Stranger (or Plato) is forthright about his intentions to include comedy, tragedy, and threnody in Magnesia. Nor am I convinced that their ambiguous and ironic treatment is

133

Kowalzig (2004) 47.

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coincidental. Plato’s treatment of all three forms presses us toward an aporetic moment in which we must choose either a literal reading, thus rejecting any contradictory data in the dialogue, or – like the Lawgiver and the Law Guardians – question the essence, intent and purpose of the inherited forms and, if warranted, imagine alternative configurations for them or reject them altogether.134

134

Rescher (1987) 286 observes that philosophical problem-solving presents “several distinct and discordant resolutions to a given issue or problem, none of which our cognitive data can exclude in an altogether decisive way.”

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4 Choreia, Paideia, and the Choral Psychology of the Laws

Introduction For Plato, the body in motion is an effective conductor of meaning. Its natural movement communicates the condition of one’s soul, whether one is courageous, cowardly, balanced or excessive (7.815e5-816a5). The performing body is even more potent and versatile. It can both create and convey meaning and, in so doing, achieve a particular effect upon the performing self, as well as the audience, one’s community.1 Dance for Plato then has far-reaching psychological and social implications. He is not alone in his appreciation of dance’s capacity to represent and transform; historian and contemporary Ephorus decries all music as deception and trickery.2 However, while Plato appreciates mousikē’s (and so dance’s) potential for deception, he also attributes to it the potential for establishing order, both within the individual’s soul and among members of a community. Commentators have acknowledged the Laws’ preoccupation with choral performance, particularly with the dance component of choreia; yet to date only two scholars have begun to 1

Stehle (1997) 9-13 studies the use of the body (and speech) in performance as self-presentation, and argues that for ancient Greek society this self-representation must be understood in terms of gender. On self-representation and gender in the Laws, see Folch (2006) esp. 229-273, who equates the expanded role of women in public performance with their expanded political role. 2

Ephorus (70FGrH8 quoted in Polybius 4.20.5-7). Polybius, perhaps influenced by Plato, maintains a direct correlation between choral practice and civilized behavior, attributing Arcadian virtue and piety to the cultivation of mousikē in all religious activity, which mitigates the harsh conditions of life in Arcadia, keeping the inhabitants from assimilating them. The one Arcadian tribe to abandon music altogether - the Cynaethians – were known for their singular brutality (4.20.1-21.12).

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explore what accounts for this choral focus.3 Folch cogently brings Plato’s understanding of genre as occasion to the fore, highlighting the connection between performance and expanded political enfranchisement, yet his focus is primarily the poetic component of choreia, its composition and parameters. Kowalzig interprets Plato’s “choral kosmos,” as a corrective to the generic and religious disorder of Athenian chorality; she is in the main correct, but this does not account for the psychological mechanisms informing Plato’s choral choices in the Laws.4 No one has yet accounted for why the performing body emerges as the primary pedagogical tool for virtue in the dialogue.5 It is generally accepted that choral performance was a central socializing force in archaic and classical Greece, yet Plato does not simply appropriate and reconfigure contemporary choral practices. He deconstructs them and identifies at their core a universal psychophysical phenomenon that can be manipulated for political ends and so can both affect and effect the cultural processes by which a society defines itself.6 Indeed, the Laws anticipates anthropological and performance studies perspectives of the body as locus and 3

See Morrow (1960) 309-318; for Anderson (1966) 81-82, the Laws represents Plato’s cumulative thought on musical paideia; see Piérart (1973) 384-385 on the role of music in the acquisition of virtue; Stalley (1983) 124-125 maintains the inseparability of music and education in the dialogue; Lonsdale (1993) 23 describes the dialogue as “the first anthropology of dance,” but does not seem to appreciate the extent to which Plato does offer an anthropology of movement. Kowalzig (2004) and Folch (2006) offer the most recent discussions on choreia in the Laws as a socializing and political instrument. Otherwise, the role of choreia in the Laws has also been overlooked or underappreciated in major discussions of the dialogue itself or of Plato’s philosophy of education and ethics: England (1921, v. 2) 305 n. c1-d2, in his otherwise worthy commentary views the special section on dance as an afterthought; Scolnicov (1988) does not include the Laws in his discussion of Plato’s thinking on education; nor does Bobonich (2002) 374-479 refer to the choral element of Magnesian religious and political life in his chapter entitled “The Citizens of Magnesia.” 4

Kowalzig (2004) 44.

5

Indeed, Kowalzig (2004) 43 calls Plato the “first coherent performance theorist.” On the socializing force of choral performance, see Calame (1997) 13-15; Stehle (1997) 69-70; Vidal-Naquet (1998) 145-152; Ingalls (1999) 371-193; Wilson (2003) 182-184. 6

This understanding is made explicit in 10.889b1-890a11 in the developmental account of the relationship among nature (physis), art (technē), and cultural convention (nomoi); this account echoes the early configuration (4.709b8c2) of god (theos), chance (tychē), and occasion (kairos), as the combined forces controlling all human affairs, and to which humans bring to bear art (technē).

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instrument of social power. For Plato, dance has not only the capacity for shaping the character of the individual through physical movement, but also for shaping community through the coordination of multiple bodies within the spaces of performance; in short, dance operates both psychologically and socially, spatially and chronologically.7 Simon Shepherd describes the phenomenon of performance thus: [theatre is] a place which exhibits what a human body is, what it does, what it is capable of. This exhibition may amount to an affirmation of currently held views or it may be an unsettling challenge to assumptions. Theatre requires special things of bodies, and makes demands on audience as much as performer. It generates and manipulates pleasure in relation to bodies. Through this pleasure it engages those values which are held personally and culturally. Theatre is a practice in which societies negotiate around what the body is and means.8 One implication is that the pleasure generated by the dancing body is central to the relationship between performer and community. A further implication is that this pleasure is culturally determined and so can be engineered toward a desired outcome. Magnesian culture is a fiction, but it reflects both the historical centrality of choral performance to the Greek polis, as well as Plato’s understanding and manipulation of the complex relationship between the two. Central to Plato’s construction of Magnesian musical culture is his choral psychology. In this chapter I hope to show that Plato’s choral choices in the dialogue are informed by this psychology, the salient points of which are as follows. First, we are moved by our basic emotional responses to pleasure and pain, that is, joy and love, fear and dislike. Further, these emotional responses are in essence the motions of the soul, which not only manifest themselves through physical motions, but can in turn be shaped by physical motions. Orderly, measured 7

On the body as a source of individual and state power, see Foucault (1977); Martin (1990 & 1998); Hanna (1983); Schechner (1985). 8

Shepherd (2006) 1.

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movement of the soul makes learning virtue possible. It follows, then, that if one wishes to train the soul in orderly movement and so prepare it for virtue, one must also train the body in the orderly movements that help shape the soul’s motions. Finally, one must make such training and practice pleasurable, so that individuals are drawn to create it as a habit, since physical habituation leads ultimately to ethical transformation or reinforcement. Precisely because of the influence of physical movement upon one’s soul and character, choral activity is both a primary ethical concern and educational tool for the nomothetēs, if he is to harness it to achieve his aims of order, peace and excellence in citizen and state. In short, it is a force whose psychological and social valence the nomothetēs must fully understand.

Part One: Paideia and Choreia Choreia, the Athenian Stranger and his interlocutors agree, is both song and dance (2.654b4-5); moreover, it is the mark of the educated man, one who has enjoyed the benefits of paideia (2.654a7-b2).9 Indeed, choreia shares its etiology with – and is inseparable from paideia, for when Apollo and the Muses bestowed songs and dances upon mankind, they simultaneously became the authors of the first paideia (2.653e6-654a5). However, paideia must be understood rather more broadly to function both formally through state sponsored education, as well as informally through devotional activity, the social institution of the sussitia (common

9

Jaeger (1939) vol. 1, 303 observes the expanding significance of paideia in Greek thought, from first involving the education of children to the inclusion of adults, and from the process of education itself to the result of that process – the state of being educated.

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meals), and the practice of example, praise and blame (5.729c2-5; 730b5-9).10 Comprehensively understood, paideia is the lifelong process of enculturation, the aim of which is complete virtue (1.643e4-9). This is also the aim of the nomothetēs (1.630e1-3; 631b3-5), so that together the laws and paideia (in all its formal and informal manifestations) must always be framed with a view to promoting virtues of wisdom, temperance, justice, and courage.11 It will be helpful first to explore the meaning and implications of the term paideia as it is presented in the Laws. The Athenian Stranger offers four articulations of paideia, expanding its parameters each time to include a psychological or social dimension, so that we see how broadly Plato understands the socializing and processes encompassed in the single term.12 Initially, κεφάλαιον δὴ παιδείας λέγομεν τὴν ὀρθὴν τροφήν, ἣ τοῦ παίζοντος τὴν ψυχὴν εἰς ἔρωτα μάλιστα ἄξει τούτου ὃ δεήσει γενόμενον ἄνδρ’ αὐτὸν τέλειον εἶναι τῆς τοῦ πράγματος ἀρετῆς.13 We understand the main point of paideia as the correct training that draws the soul of the child at play toward a real desire for the

10

As with the details of songs and dances, the precise legislative details of the sussitia are not addressed in the Laws. On the similarities and differences between Plato’s Magnesian sussitia and those of Sparta, see Morrow (1960) 389392 and David (1978). The primary ancient source for the Spartan sussitia is Plutarch’s Lycurgus 10.12. While the Spartan and Cretan institutions of sussitia are a means of achieving and maintaining a battle-ready state (625c-626b; 633a), they also invite factional strife and homosexual activity (636b1-9), the first of which the whole culture of Magnesia is designed to repel and the second of which is considered taboo in Magnesia (839e5-839a1). However, the utilitarian aims of the Magnesian sussitia are clear: common meals establish the public nature of the citizen”s life (806a1-b7); they regulate conduct in public, therefore leaving less time for people to behave as they would in private (779e11-780c2). This is particularly important in the case of women, whose seclusion makes them both mysterious and difficult to regulate (780e3-781d7). Common meals also encourage philia, one of the major aims of the Lawgiver (628b9-11; 640d1; 743c7-9). 11

The human goods and divine goods are introduced in Book One (631b7-d7), and it is with these philosophical categories in mind, not class or individual interests, that laws must be framed and citizens educated to the degree that they understand precisely why the laws are framed as they are. The divine goods are reintroduced later as the virtues (3.688b2-4). Total virtue (pasa aretē) comprises all four virtues. 12

On orthē trophē, see also Timaeus 44b. England (1921) vol 1, 250 suggests disciplina.

13

παίζω means “play”, but as early as Homer had choral implications, as well. See Od 8.251, 23.147; Hes Shield 277; Ar Frogs 409; Thes 1227; Pindar Ol 1.16, 13.86. Through singing and dancing, as well as engaging in other forms of “play,” the child learns the skills and virtues of citizenship. See also Lonsdale (1993) 1, 33, 36.

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pursuit at which, when he is full-grown, he must achieve excellence (1.643c9-d4). Plato takes care to distinguish paideia from trophē, which is generally understood as rearing or training. Trophē directed solely toward an occupation or skill cannot be called paideia, because it does not serve paideia’s overarching political aim to foster complete virtue (2.643d9-e4).14 However, when trophē does serve paideia in the development of the perfect citizen, one who is as good in body and soul as possible (1.643c11-d4; 7.788c6-9), it functions like logos (2.643e49), drawing the soul of the child toward excellence (aretē). The single occupation for which the Magnesian is educated and for which she is responsible for practicing is citizenship, the care of the state (6.751c6-d6; 8.846d5-10).15 This education begins with guiding the child’s natural inclinations and desires toward the practice of citizenship, further developed in the second definition of paideia: . . . τὴν δὲ πρὸς ἀρετὴν ἐκ παίδων παιδείαν, ποιοῦσαν ἐπιθυμητήν τε καὶ ἐραστὴν τοῦ πολίτην γενέσθαι τέλεον, ἄρχειν τε καὶ ἄρχεσθαι ἐπιστάμενον μετὰ δίκης. . . . it is the education from childhood toward virtue which creates one who longs for and is eager to become a perfect citizen who knows how to rule and how to be ruled at the proper time (2.643e5-9).16

14

A tradesperson is considered apaideutos, uneducated (643e1). Magnesian citizens enjoy a vast amount of leisure (scholē) in order to perfect their citizenship: 7.806d8-e3; 807c7-d1; 8.828d10; 832d2. 15

Any citizen who turns away from care of the state to pursuit of another occupation can be punished with imprisonment, fines, and expulsion (8.847a4-b2). The care of the state is, as we will see, included in the care of the soul. Care of the soul generates peace at every level of existence through centrifugal activity that revolves first around the gods and outward through every personal, social, and political responsibility toward the edges of the state itself. Of this movement more will be said in the next chapter. 16

Meta dikēs here means “duly” or “rightly,” and given the nature of this prescriptive, that one must alternate between ruling and being ruled; this aligns it with kairos (timing) and metrion (measure). On similar adverbial uses of dikē, see Iliad 23.542; Plato Critias 112e; Pindar Olympian 6.12; Pythian 9.96; Herodotus 7.35. On the relationship among kairos, metrion, and dikē, see Slatkin (2004) 47: “Due measure and right season are invested with an ethical dimension, most fully realized as the basis for the operations of Justice.”

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Notable in these first two definitions of paideia is the image of the erastēs, and the metaphor is striking.17 The child’s soul is drawn into a state of desire (eis erōta), so that he pursues perfect citizenship as a lover (erastēn) would his beloved. The dynamic of the erastēs/erōmenos relationship, in which the erastēs is the dominant, pursuing partner and the erōmenos the submissive, is transported from the semantic field of desire to that of citizenship, recasting citizenship as an act of desire and pursuit.18 Here citizenship is the appropriate object of desire (the erōmenos), and its practice by the citizen (the erastēs) is imagined as active pursuit. Yet citizenship involves both leading and following, so a sense of measure and timing is required to know when to lead and when to follow. In short, one must desire to lead and to follow when it is appropriate to do each, and this, as Slatkin observes, is a function of justice.19 One desires what brings one pleasure. The practice of citizenship then, whether one is leading or following, must be pleasurable for one to desire it. Paideia will extend to training children’s basic emotions of love and dislike accordingly. The young's first and natural impulses are in response to pleasure and pain, so that they love in response to pleasure and hate in response to pain (2.653a6-8). There are two ways in which these responses must be trained. The first is measure, and this is both physiological and psychological in nature and aim. Timing

17

On the power dynamic of the pederastic relationship, see Dover (1989) 16. Far less metaphorical is the eroticism of the hero/athlete in Greek culture, for which see Scanlon (2002) 201-204. 18

ἔρως is employed in the erotic sense (8.837a7-11), but is more generally cast as desire for things bad for the soul, like wealth (8.831c3-7), or good for the soul, like the desire that follows upon wisdom and reason (3.688b2-4), the godlike desire for what is measured (4.711a7-b4), and desire generally directed toward the good (6.783a1-10). This is not new to the Laws; see Philebus 20d for the pursuit and possession of the good and Gorgias. 499e, in which the good is pleasurable, and so to be pursued. In Republic 402d Socrates likens the beauty of art to the beauty that inspires ἔρως, in the sense that good art helps to form good character. Elsewhere in the dialogue desire is recast in the context of prayer; proper training leads to pleasure in what benefits the soul, so that one desires and prays for what is good (4.709d2-4). Indeed, divine desire (theios erōs) has as its object temperate and just institutions (4.7447e1). 19

Slatkin (2004) 47.

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(kairos) and measure (metrion) are stressed early in the Laws as necessary to the happiness of every animal, individual, and state. The Athenian Stranger imagines pleasure and pain as two springs from which every living being must drink at the appropriate time and in the appropriate amount (1.636d6-e3).20 Measure, then, is learned first through behavioral training (2.653b8-10), so that one later may approach all circumstances with measured emotional and physical response (5.732c1-d7).21 Next, these basic impulses must also be trained toward correctness, that is, toward pleasure in what is good and appropriate and dislike toward what is bad and inappropriate: παιδείαν δὴ λέγω τὴν παραγιγνομένην πρῶτον παισὶν ἀρετήν· ἡδονὴ δὴ καὶ φιλία καὶ λύπη καὶ μῖσος ἂν ὀρθῶς ἐν ψυχαῖς ἐγγίγνωνται μήπω δυναμένων λόγῳ λαμβάνειν, λαβόντων δὲ τὸν λόγον, συμφωνήσωσι τῷ λόγῳ ὀρθῶς εἰθίσθαι ὑπὸ τῶν προσηκόντων ἐθῶν, αὕτη ’σθ’ ἡ συμφωνία σύμπασα μὲν ἀρετή, τὸ δὲ περὶ τὰς ἡδονὰς καὶ λύπας τεθραμμένον αὐτῆς ὀρθῶς ὥστε μισεῖν μὲν ἃ χρὴ μισεῖν εὐθὺς ἐξ ἀρχῆς μέχρι τέλους, στέργειν δὲ ἃ χρὴ στέργειν . . . κατά γε τὴν ἐμὴν ὀρθῶς ἂ προσαγορεύοις. I mean that paideia is the first instance of virtue in children, when pleasure and love and pain and dislike correctly arise in the souls of those not yet capable of comprehending reason; but when they have grasped reason they are in harmony with it (reason) through being correctly trained in appropriate habits, and this harmony is as a whole excellence. And that part of it that is rightly trained toward pleasures and pains so that it hates what it ought to hate and loves what it ought to love from beginning to end, you would rightly call this paideia (2.653b1-c4). In this third definition, we learn that paideia it is not merely a complex of formal and informal social processes, but also the desired outcome of those processes: the phenomenon of harmony between one’s natural responses to pleasure and pain and the correct, appropriate responses. Paideia then extends to concord of disposition and reason which, when enacted, constitutes full 20

This image underscores the obligation of the nomothetēs to understand the psychology of pleasure and pain in states or individuals as he frames his laws and educational plan. 21

Living with measure, furthermore, constitutes godlike conduct (4.716c1-7), a more subtle aim of paideia that I will explore in Chapter Five.

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aretē. This harmony can also happen spontaneously in children before they are able to understand even why they respond correctly to certain stimuli. Particularly during childhood, then, such accord must be reinforced through training, so that it in adulthood one will not only be accustomed to responding appropriately to pleasure and pain, but one will also have the intellectual capacity to understand why the correct is pleasurable and the incorrect not. But by what standard, apart from measure, is correctness of response judged? The fourth and final definition of paideia indicates legal and social parameters: παιδεία μέν ἐσθ’ ἡ παίδων ὁλκή τε καὶ ἀγωγὴ πρὸς τὸν ὑπὸ τοῦ νόμου λόγον ὀρθὸν εἰρημένον, καὶ τοῖς ἐπιεικεστάτοις καὶ πρεσβυτάτοις δι’ ἐμπειρίαν συνδεδογμένον ὡς ὄντως ὀρθός ἐστιν· ἵν’ οὖν ἡ ψυχὴ τοῦ παιδὸς μὴ ἐναντία χαίρειν καὶ λυπεῖσθαι ἐθίζηται τῷ νόμῳ καὶ τοῖς ὑπὸ τοῦ νόμου πεπεισμένοις, ἀλλὰ συνέπηται χαίρουσά τε καὶ λυπουμένη τοῖς αὐτοῖς τούτοις οἷσπερ ὁ γέρων. Paideia is the drawing and leading of children toward that principle pronounced correct by law and confirmed as truly correct by those who, in experience, are the best and oldest, in order that the child’s soul does not become habituated to feeling pleasure and pain in contradiction to the law and those who obey the law, but rather rejoices and recoils from the very same things as the old man (2.659d1-9). Paideia once again encapsulates both process and desired result, and the images Plato employs here are noteworthy. First, paideia is imagined in distinctly physical terms, as the externally imposed movement of pulling and guiding children in a particular direction, toward the precise goal of internal concord and, so, aretē. Its reach, however, extends beyond individual character development; there are political and social implications in how the individual’s character is trained. Judicious elders, bearers of tradition, together with the law, determine what one should love and hate.22 The child so trained in accordance with law and custom, is in harmony not only

22

It is the task of god or the godlike man to determine what is correct in tune and in words, that is, what music one should love and what one should hate (2.657a10-12).

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with himself, but also with the eldest in his community and so, one must presume, the generations in between. The vivid image of the child enjoying and disliking the same things as the old man underscores Plato’s deep concern for intergenerational harmony, now an explicit aim of paideia.23 In these four definitions, Plato establishes the psychological and socio-political teleology of paideia. While it encompasses the formal and informal processes by which members of society move their young from childhood to adulthood, paideia also implies the optimal results of such training. In short, paideia is about correct pleasure and desire. According to these definitions, the correct source of pleasure and, so object of desire, is perfect citizenship. Complete virtue in the citizen, the stated goal of the nomothetēs and paideia, can only happen when one loves and hates correctly, that is, when one desires only what is sanctioned by custom and law and rejects what is not. Yet even this desire for perfect citizenship requires measure and balance; people desire to lead or they desire to be led, but the perfect citizen must do both, which requires training one’s civic desires in measure and timing, so that he knows when to lead, when to be led, and when to alternate. If every citizen is so conditioned, all citizens will be similarly inclined and together engaged in the common goal of perfect citizenship, fluidly alternating roles of leadership and dependence. Even as a fiction, such penetrating concert and agreement are impressive. Yet how precisely will the nomothetēs deliver the kind of paideia that will effect such physical and psychological unity of virtuous endeavor? Following directly upon the forceful image of the 23

As it is of the nomothetēs (7.798b5). Fixity in children’s games implicitly ensures intergenerational harmony, because it ensures common, ancestral memories for every generation. While laws will fix these games, the informal institutions of praise and blame will ensure their fixity (7.797a8-c10; 798a7-d6) and the collective joy with which all Magnesians will remember them and play them. The notion of similarity is reinforced by the word holkē, which elsewhere in Plato refers to the attractive force of similarity (Timaeus 80c and Cratylus 435c).

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young child and old man in complete accord about what they love and hate, the Athenian Stranger states clearly that the way to achieve this social harmony is through song: τούτων ἕνεκα, ἃς ᾠδὰς καλοῦμεν, ὄντως μὲν ἐπῳδαὶ ταῖς ψυχαῖς αὗται νῦν γεγονέναι, πρὸς τὴν τοιαύτην ἣν λέγομεν συμφωνίαν ἐσπουδασμέναι, διὰ δὲ τὸ σπουδὴν μὴ δύνασθαι φέρειν τὰς τῶν νέων ψυχάς, παιδιαί τε καὶ ᾠδαὶ καλεῖσθαι καὶ πράττεσθαι . . . For these reasons, the things we call songs – which are in reality charms for the soul – are engineered for just such symphonia of which we speak; yet since the souls of the young are not capable of enduring serious study, we name and practice them as ‘games’ and ‘songs’ . . . (2.659e1-6). The logic behind the playful nature of song is conveyed by a medical analogy: for those suffering physical weakness and ill health, wholesome nourishment (chrēstēn trophēn) is administered in pleasant food and drink, while what is harmful is administered in unpleasant food. In that way, the patients learn to find joy in the food most beneficial to their physical wellbeing and to dislike what is unhealthy for them (2.659e6-660a4). Song, like pleasing food and drink, is the effective means to deliver nourishment to the individual soul and to establish social harmony. On this principle, the good nomothetēs will charge the poet to portray the gestures (schēmata) and the tunes (melē) of only moderate, courageous, and completely good men (2.660a4-9). This prescriptive for poetic composition extends to both song and dance, that is, words, music, and movement. So proper choreia, which represents the virtuous person, is beneficial to the soul in the way that wholesome food is to the body. On the other hand, the choral forms that represent the opposite of the virtuous person deliver something unwholesome to the soul. Like an unhealthy diet, these must either be rendered so unpleasant to Magnesians that they spurn them (like comedy), or revised entirely so that they are both pleasurable and serviceable to the soul and so the state (like tragedy and threnody).

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The wholesome nourishment of the soul is paideia, both its processes and desired outcomes, and choreia becomes the means to deliver it, that is, to train bodies and souls in measure and correctness and all that measure and correctness imply for individual and community. The Athenian Stranger here unequivocally identifies choreia as the primary vehicle for paideia, while he elsewhere indicates it as elemental to paideia (654a7-b2; 653e6-654a5); however, it is less apparent just how its practice can effect paideia’s immediate and broader aims.24 Yet the psychological and social mechanisms operating in choreia can be teased from the text. For Plato, they function to model, establish and maintain orderly motion. The Athenian Stranger offers five accounts of the origins of choreia. Although he indicates shared origins with three other socializing phenomena (paideia, gymnastikē and paidia), in all accounts choreia’s intent, function and benefit is the establishment of physical order among human kind, particularly the young.25 All young creatures, because their natures are fiery (diapyros), uncontrollably engage in disorderly motion of both voice and body, leaping about and making noises.26 Harmony and rhythm (653e6-7; 664e9-665a4; 672c9-d3; 673d3-5), the gifts of the gods (654a4-6; 665a4-7), establish orderly physical movement of body and voice – dancing and singing – among the human race. Yet something more than the simple establishment of physical order is implied here; there is also the intellectual requirement for 24

See Aristotle Poltiics 1339b9-1340b20 on the discussion of music’s place in education, its utility, and its role in character formation. While Aristotle is clear that music does influence the soul, he does not offer an explanation of the psychological mechanism whereby it does so. 25

Four accounts are found in Book Two: 653d9-654a4; 2.664e3-665a7; 2.672c1-d3; 2.673c9-d5; an abbreviated account is found in Book Seven 816a 3-7, yet this account is less mythological and more developmental. Cf. Republic 401b-c where music and gymnastics are introduced to treat the soul and body, respectively. 26

On the similarity between the disorderly movements of very young children and the Black Horse of the Phaedrus, see Elizabeth Belfiore, “Dancing with the Gods: the Myth of the Chariot in Plato’s Phaedrus,” American Journal of Philology 127 (2006) esp. 208-209, 221. Belfiore observes several parallels between the role of dance in the chariot myth and the Laws’ use of dance in Magnesia in creating equilibrium of soul.

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harmony and rhythm to operate. The only thing that separates human young from other creatures is their capacity for reason (nous, phronēsis) and for perceiving (aisthēsis) different kinds of order, namely, rhythm and harmony.27 Aisthēsis here seems to convey a twofold perception of order, implying that rhythm and harmony are not merely sensible, but also intelligible; what is noteworthy is that here the intellect’s apprehension of order, while it does not precede the physical perception of it, is required to make sense of it. The young continue to move in frenzied manner until their intellect (phronēsis) is sufficiently developed to permit its perception (672c26). So, rhythm and harmony present a level of order that must somehow be sensed by the mind before it can be communicated adequately through body and voice. 28 We might well wonder at what age the young child is capable of apprehending order at this level, but the text is not explicit. It does tell us that babies and small children should be kept in motion as continuously as possible, in a rocking motion like that of the sea, for the health of both body and soul (7.790c5-d3; 791c5-7). Pregnant mothers must walk about, providing prenatal gymnastic to the unborn child (7.789b1-3), and nurses must carry them everywhere, to temples and fields, until the children reach the age of three (789c8-790a3).29 If the intellect of the child must reach a certain developmental stage in order for it to perceive rhythm and harmony (or other kinds of order), the text implies that the sensations of continuous and ordered 27

nous (672c1); phronēsis (672c4); aisthēsis (653e4-6; 653e9; 664e7; 673d2).

28

As sense perception, aisthēsis is distinctly opposed to knowledge, as in Theaetetus 156b and its treatment by Cornford (1979) 102-109; and Cooper (1970) 123-146. See also, Philebus 39b; Aristotle Posterior Analytics 99b35; as knowledge or the perception of the mind, see Apology 40c; Theaetetus 192b; Phaedrus 240d; also Plotinus 4.7.15; Isocrates 1.47. 29

Being rocked and carried about is the only physical exercise infants and very small children have, since they are wrapped snugly in swaddling clothes and not allowed to move about freely until two years of age, after which they must be carried everywhere until they can walk upright on their own (789e4-9). This rather odd form of “exercise” is justified by and likened to the way in which young men carry about their fighting cocks under their arms before and between matches. It may also be seen as a brilliant way to avoid the havoc that a toddler may wreak upon a home, a sure threat to peace of mind and harmonia.

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movement will prepare the child’s body and soul (and perhaps as yet undeveloped reason) for the stage when it can understand, as well as feel, orderly movement. Externally imposed movement not only prepares the body of the very young for ordered movement, but it also plays a role in character formation, preparing the soul as well (7.791b6-d10). The Athenian Stranger explains the process, if not the mechanism, whereby ordered movement helps to form character, using restless children as an example. Sleeplessness in small children is the result of undesirable emotions like fear and a generally poor condition of the soul (7.790d8-e11); these internal motions manifest in spasmodic physical movements which, in turn, perpetuate the disorderly movements of the soul. By applying external movements and sounds (melōdia, kinēsis, choreia, and mousē), as though applying a remedy, the nurses bring order to the motions of the soul and, consequently, of the body (7.790d10-e4):30 ὅταν οὖν ἔξωθέν τις προσφέρῃ τοῖς τοιούτοις πάθεσι σεισμόν, ἡ τῶν ἔξωθεν κρατεῖ κίνησις προσφερομένη τὴν ἐντὸς φοβερὰν οὖσαν καὶ μανικὴν κίνησιν, κρατήσασα δέ, γαλήνην ἡσυχίαν τε ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ φαίνεσθαι ἀπεργασαμένη τῆς περὶ τὰ τῆς καρδίας χαλεπῆς γενομένης ἑκάστων πηδήσεως, παντάπασιν ἀγαπητόν τι, τοὺς μὲν ὕπνου λαγχάνειν ποιεῖ. . . . . . whenever one applies external movement to such afflictions, the applied external motion overpowers the fearful and frantic motion within and, in overpowering it, clearly achieves calmness and quiet in the soul, where there had previously been, in each case, a painful pounding of the heart. This is something altogether desirable, for it puts them to sleep (7.790e11-791a7). The image of melōdia, kinēsis, choreia, and mousē as remedy recalls the medical analogy in which song and dance serve as the pleasing means for delivering nourishment to the soul (2.659e6-660a4), as well as Timaeus 90c6-d7 in which the different parts of the soul require specific nourishment and movement. This passage, in fact, provides the basic sequence of 30

Likewise, external movements aid in the treatment of Corybantism (7.790c5) and, in the case of Bacchants, dancing and hearing music results in a composed, rather than frantic, state of mind (791a7-b4).

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motional events in this process, i.e., the model for ordered movement as the vehicle for paideia. First, orderly physical motion (here externally imposed) acts upon disorderly internal motions, bringing order and measure to them. Once ordered, the internal motions then effect order in the body’s motions: the heart stops racing and the child is physically able to sleep, his body no longer subject to internal disordered motions. If orderly motion is continuously applied during the very early years when character forms, then the child will begin to become habituated to orderly external and internal motions.31 When the child reaches the age of three, he begins to interact with other children in supervised play-groups (7.793e5-794a3), and here we begin to see the social implications of ordered movement. 32 Games (paidiai) come naturally to children, and they make them up as soon as they come into contact with one another. Nurses supervise the groups carefully, to guide them toward appropriate forms of play and to discourage the opposite (7.794b2; 793e7-794a1). The gravity with which children’s games are treated is noteworthy. Paidiai form a serious pedagogical tool for social and political life (7.798b5-d6). They shape a child’s tastes and, since one’s character forms very early in life, paidiai indirectly impact legislation and the state. Children who play games different from those their parents played grow into adults with tastes that contrast with the tastes of their elders, and strife ensues at every level of the state (1.627e4628a4; b2-5; c10-12). We have seen how intergenerational harmony is paramount to Plato’s concept of paideia and its aims. If children’s games are fixed by law (7.797b-c3; 798b6-d5),

31

Cf. Republic 441e8-442a2, in which the combination of music and movement orders and brings peace to the different parts of the soul, giving each what it needs. 32

The play-groups are for children from three to six years.

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every generation of children will share the same sentiments, skills, and behaviors proper to a citizen; that is, they will learn how to lead and be led at the right time (1.643e4-9). These paidiai would include songs and dances appropriate to their very young age; they are already the natural expressions of the young (2.673c11-d5; 672b10-d3), and would be guided by nurses.33 The instinctive nature of these games calls to mind the natural impulses of all young animals to move and vocalize uncontrollably, that is, the impulses from which song, dance, gymnastic, play, festivals and education evolved simultaneously (2.653d9-654a5; 664e3-665a7; 672b10-c7; 673c11-d5). There is overlap here among these socializing activities, yet Plato pairs choreia etiologically with each of them, so that singing and dancing participate in all of them. It is, after all and by nature, a musical, gymnastic, and playful socializing force. Moreover, because it is a form of play, it is also a pleasurable activity. Yet it is a serious form of play because it establishes orderly movement early in life and continues to maintain and restore orderly movement as life progresses. For older children and adults in particular, choreia continues to deliver nourishment to the soul, by reinforcing and renewing the habit of correctly responding to pleasure and pain, that is, loving the good and hating the bad in accordance with law and custom:34 Καλῶς τοίνυν. τούτων γὰρ δὴ τῶν ὀρθῶς τεθραμμένων ἡδονῶν καὶ λυπῶν παιδειῶν οὐσῶν χαλᾶται τοῖς ἀνθρώποις καὶ διαφθείρεται κατὰ πολλὰ ἐν τῷ βίῳ, θεοὶ δὲ οἰκτίραντες τὸ τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἐπίπονον πεφυκὸς γένος, ἀναπαύλας τε αὐτοῖς τῶν 33

These paidiai would likely include competitive games involving balls, hoops, tops, and shells. For commonly played children’s games in ancient Greece, like ephedrismos, morra, knucklebones, ostrakinda, hoops, and various ball games not entirely unlike our own, see Golden (1990) 51-55. The children would also play math, measurement and geometry games (7.819b1-c4). These would constitute the first lessons in rudimentary mathematics and geometry – addition, subtraction, sets and subsets, as well as measurement, all to the political purpose of leading armies or managing the state (7.819c4-d1); the intellectual benefits of mathematics and geometry will be explored further in Chapter Five. See Folch (2006) 152-153 on the songs and dances as components of paidiai. 34

Cf 1.643d1, in which paideia is the correct nurture (orthē trophē).

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πόνων ἐτάξαντο τὰς τῶν ἑορτῶν ἀμοιβὰς τοῖς θεοῖς, καὶ Μούσας Ἀπόλλωνά τε μουσηγέτην καὶ Διόνυσον συνεορταστὰς ἔδοσαν, ἵν’ ἐπανορθῶνται, τάς τε 35 τροφὰς γενομένας ἐν ταῖς ἑορταῖς μετὰ θεῶν. . . ἡμῖν δὲ οὓς εἴπομεν τοὺς θεοὺς συγχορευτὰς δεδόσθαι, τούτους εἶναι καὶ τοὺς δεδωκότας τὴν ἔνρυθμόν τε καὶ ἐναρμόνιον αἴσθησιν μεθ’ ἡδονῆς, ᾗ δὴ κινεῖν τε ἡμᾶς καὶ χορηγεῖν ἡμῶν τούτους, ᾠδαῖς τε καὶ ὀρχήσεσιν ἀλλήλοις συνείροντας, χορούς τε ὠνομακέναι παρὰ τὸ τῆς χαρᾶς ἔμφυτον ὄνομα. πρῶτον δὴ τοῦτο ἀποδεξώμεθα; θῶμεν παιδείαν εἶναι πρώτην διὰ Μουσῶν τε καὶ Ἀπόλλωνος, ἢ πῶς; Well, since these elements of paideia – rightly guided pleasures and pains - slacken for people and to a great extent are worn down in the course of one’s life, the gods took pity on the toil-worn human race and established for them, in the addition of feasts, a rest from labor and bestowed upon them the Muses, Apollo their musical leader, and Dionysos as fellow celebrants, so that they might refresh discipline in feasts with the gods. . . as we said, the gods given to us as fellow choristers have bestowed upon us the ability to perceive rhythm and harmony with pleasure, by which they move us and lead us in the chorus, linking us with one another in songs and dances, and naming them ‘choroi’ for the natural beauty in them. First, shall we accept this and say that paideia originates with Apollo and the Muses? (653c8-d7; e6-654a5) In addition to restoring physical and psychic order among individuals, choreia coordinates community in rhythm and harmony. The Muses and Apollo make this possible by imparting choral knowledge; they instill pleasure in the sense of rhythm and harmony and in so doing they provide the divine model for choral and social behavior. As ever-present, divine chorēgoi, they lead mankind in song and dance, teaching us how to sing and dance with one another, that is, how to interact with one another with a sense of measure and timing. This model of choral and social behavior is a political model, as well. It calls to mind the image of the perfect citizen, whose political knowledge entails knowing how to lead and how to

35

γε Hermann; τε MSS. See England (1921, Vol. I), 275.

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be led, at the right time (1.643e5-9).36 Although this passage does not offer an exact analog, the elements of choral knowledge form a striking correspondence to the elements of political knowledge: dancing and singing with fellow choristers requires knowing when to lead and when to be led, at the right time. In the divine model described in this etiology, Apollo, the Muses and Dionysus are the first chorēgoi of the human race, and in Magnesia they will continue as paradigmatic chorēgoi for the Three Choruses, the choral-political phases of Magnesian life. In actual practice, every chorus would have its human chorēgos, whose model would be the divine chorus leaders.37 The text does not address chorus leaders or the process for selecting them, yet given the inclusivity of performance in Magnesia, we might suppose expanded possibilities for citizens to take on choral leadership, constituting another correspondence between choral and political life.38 The gist is that citizens learn how to follow the chorēgos and to act as chorēgos, alternating roles in due measure and time. If this reading is correct, choreia is not merely the vehicle for character formation, socialization, or even political training; it is model and metaphor for the political life. This represents a profound shift from the dancer-warrior metaphor so prevalent in epic and later Greek poetry and thought.39 Plato disengages the semantic field of war from the metaphor

36

The Three Choruses correspond, also, to the stages of citizenship. See Folch (2006) 164. It should be noted, as well, that justice in the Laws is closely associated with piety and care of the soul, which involves behaving justly toward all those in one’s life and city and beyond. 37

Apollo normally leads the other gods in song and dance. On the gods as choregic paradigms, see Lonsdale (1995) 25-40; also Calame (1997) 34-36. 38

Folch (2006) 164-168.

39

For the dance of battle, warriors as dancers, and dance imagery in descriptions of battle, see Il. 7.237-241 (Hector speaking of treading measures in battle); 13.158 (Meriones as a dancer); 13.806-807; 12.157-158 (Deiphobus); 16.609-617 (Meriones); 22.138-139 (Achilles” leap on Hector); Od. 20.300-301; Pindar Ol. 13.72 (Bellerophon); Eur Phoen. 1382-1392 (battle between Polyneices and Eteocles); Andr. 1125-1136 (Neoptolemus at Delphi); Tyrtaios fr. 8.35-36d; Aesch Ag 824ff (Argives” leap on Troy). Certainly, military formation, marching, and battle maneuvers not only resemble choreographed movement, but are considered in anthropological terms forms of dance

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altogether, replacing it with political life, which in Magnesia is defined by choral phases (the Three Choruses). The refashioned metaphor of the dancer-citizen (choreutēs/politēs) serves also to repudiate the warrior-citizen paradigm so idealized in Athens, particularly in the pyrrhic performances of the Panathenaic festivals. This shift recasts the Magnesian weapon dance: while the warrior is not at all absent from the new paradigm, it is subsumed in the category “citizen.”40 The choral repertoire then is designed to create the dancer-citizen, who will spend his life singing and dancing for the gods and training for war, in peacetime.41 This paradigm shift should come as no surprise. In Book One, the Athenian expands the definition of war and stasis to include the figurative battle within the individual soul (1.626c1315). If conflict can occur at any level of existence, so then can peace, and the mechanism seems to be the same for both. The correspondence in the elements and structure of the soul and the state is established in the Republic (435a; 441c-442e; 544e; 576c). There, justice (dikaiosynē) and injustice (adikia) form the backdrop against which to understand the proper functioning of the soul, and therefore the state. A soul is just when its elements (logistikon, thymoeides, epithymitikon) perform their appropriate functions, guided by logistikon; by implication, it is (Spencer, Hanna, Royce). The religious nature of dance, however, must be kept in mind. Athenaeus 629f reports Socrates as stating “He is best at war who honors the gods best with dances,” and this has been interpreted as testimony to both the religious significance of dance, as well as its use as preparation for battle. Cf. Lonsdale (1993) 138-139. 40

Total virtue is phronēsis, sōphrōn psychēs, dikaiosynē, and andria. Total virtue as the aim of the lawgiver and state, see 630d11-e5; 705e1-706a4; 770c7-d8. On the cultivation of only one virtue (andria is the virtue that the states of Crete and Sparta primarily cultivate) as misguided, see 666d13-667a5; stated explicitly, the man who can manage a state and cities understands that courage is the fourth of the virtues and so far excels the warrior whose sole virtue is courage. 41

This will extend from the individual’s political life to the life of the state itself (choros/polis); in short, the dancercitizen metaphor extends to capacity as the chorus-state metaphor. This entails, as we will see, a redefinition of courage as not merely a physical, polemic act, but an internal struggle: 630a2-4 on the different types of courage required for different types of war; 633c10-d4 and 647c10-d9 on courage as an inner battle against desires as well as fears. Sōphrosynē (moderation) is the other side of courage, since it is the struggle over pleasures and desires. The juxtaposition of courage and moderation is presented throughout the Laws in the contexts of the conditions of war and peace in both state and soul.

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unjust when its parts do not function appropriately.42 In the Laws the correspondence between soul and state is framed in terms of war (polemos) and peace (eirēnē), now captured as psychological, as well as political, phenomena. In short, war and peace within the soul obtain in, respectively, disorderly and orderly motions (1.629cd; 647d). Internal peace is the highest good and the Lawgiver’s first obligation (1.628c10-3; d5e2), and this extends to peace in the individual (soul), as well as house, village, and state, all of which need to be guided to favor the better parts of each over the worse (1.626c12-15), but also to reconcile and order all the parts (1.627e3-628a4).43 This reconciliation of parts, in both soul and state, variously described as homonoia, philia, eirēnē and symphonia, is an express aim of the nomothetēs, yet it is more than simple agreement and friendship. Rachana Kamtekar explores the notion of homonoia (and the cluster of words describing it) as political agreement, and though she is concerned primarily with its implications in the Republic, her findings may help us to situate homonoia and its relational cognates within the choral psychology of the Laws.44 Kamtekar identifies explicit standards for true political homonoia; specifically, if political agreement is to be considered a virtue of the city, the content of what people agree upon must have ethical value, that is, it must contribute to the happiness and virtue of citizens. If their

42

The analogy of the tripartite soul to the city is easily envisioned, but it presents some difficulties for the definition of justice; see Williams (1999), esp. 260-264. 43

Peace in the soul is achieved primarily through honoring the gods in song and dance regularly and continuously (726a-734d), but also through virtuous and just activity at every level: one’s spiritual and physical self, religion and health (727a1-729b1); one’s children and family (729b2-c10); one’s friends (729c10-d6); one’one’ss fellow citizens and state (729d6-e1); strangers (729e1-730a10). 44

Kamtekar (2004) 131-170.

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agreement is based on content, it follows that it must also stem from some shared knowledge or understanding of that content, i.e., proper political relationships. 45 The Republic poses a challenge to the notion of shared political understanding: how might different segments of society (rulers, auxiliaries, and producers), inasmuch as they are defined by their specialized roles, achieve or even practice a shared political knowledge? For Kamtekar, Plato responds to this challenge with the philosopher-king and the justice among classes that his rule inspires and law ensures, i.e., the understanding of their proper political relationships, who should rule and who should be ruled (433b).46 In the Laws, class distinctions (though not expertise, as we shall see) are almost entirely erased, making citizenship the sole occupation of every Magnesian, so that here, political understanding and agreement obtain in knowing when to rule and when to be ruled at the proper time, both roles shared by all citizens.47 Despite the different light in which citizenship is cast in Callipolis and Magnesia, education, specifically musical education, is that which imparts correct political knowledge – homonoia – and shapes the condition of the soul.48 Just as the state that has philia within itself possesses wisdom (phronēsis), so does the individual who enjoys harmony between reason and desire, and this harmony is the goal of paideia (693b6-c7; 654cd). Apollo and the Muses are the authors of the first paideia. They are 45

Ibid., 133-137; 142-143. Kamtekar cites several dialogues that address political agreement and its restrictions, namely Clitophon (409d2-410a6), Alcibiades I (126e2-127b6), and Euthydemus (292b-c) in order to establish that homonoia fits securely within the Platonic political and ethical frameworks that defines the happiness of citizens as political teleology and the necessity of virtue and understanding to that happiness. 46

Ibid., 148-152.

47

The only “classes” of experts would be the nomophylakes and the Nocturnal Council, whose advanced education and training come only when they”ve shown themselves particularly good citizens and adept students of the sciences studied by all Magnesians. 48

Ibid., 142. Kamtekar cites Republic 401c-402a, wherein Socrates says that musical education endows the young guardians with the capacity to judge between what is noble and what is not.

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also (along with Dionysus) the first chorēgoi; paideia originates with the first choral performances for the gods, that is, in the festival context. Thus far, we can describe choreia as the first and primary instrument of paideia, inasmuch as it delivers nourishment to the soul through rhythmic and measured motions that bring order and peace to the soul’s motions. It also provides a model for political life: its practice essentially constitutes training in leading and being led at the right time in ordered and rhythmic movement with others. Indeed, the Athenian Stranger summarizes the effects of paideia and choreia each in terms of the other, when he asks: Οὐκοῦν ὁ μὲν ἀπαίδευτος ἀχόρευτος ἡμῖν ἔσται, τὸν δὲ πεπαιδευμένον ἱκανῶς κεχορευκότα θετέον; Do we then understand the uneducated man as the man not trained in the chorus (2.654a7-b2)? He further defines the educated man (pepaideumenos), as one who knows how to sing and dance well (654b7-8), but then hastens to add that by “well” he implies an ethical content to the songs and dances. In the end, the educated man is not simply one who sings and dances well (having been trained in song and dance), but one who sings and dances good things (kala), because he has been trained in singing songs and dancing dances that deliver paideia, nourishment to the soul (654b11-c2). What of the formal, curricular aspects of paideia? Plato ostensibly follows the traditional division of music and gymnastics, the former for training the soul and the latter for training the body.49 Cleary aligns all gymnastic training with war and musical training with peace. While this is not an unreasonable alignment, given the pervasive war-peace classification in the Laws, it does not account for the fact that dance, though part of the gymnastic curriculum, has its own mimetic division of peace (emmeleia) and is furthermore a peacetime activity; nor does it

49

Republic 376e; Laws 795d.

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account for how comprehensively Plato believes choreia can deliver paideia. However, he does observe that the rationale behind all Plato’s curricular choices is political utility, that is, symphonia.50 The Magnesian child’s first formal lessons are in choreia and martial arts, the two pursuits that will continue through and beyond formal education into adulthood in the contexts of festivals and monthly military exercises (2.653c8-d7; 7.813b4; 813e4-814a1). The choral and martial arts will, in fact, occupy a significant portion of the Magnesian’s lifetime, so we would expect a notable level of expertise across the population.51 The Athenian Stranger identifies the vocal dimension of choreia as movement of the voice, that is, rhythm and harmony (2.672e6673a1). He offers no details regarding vocal training, but we might imagine it would involve lessons in scales and harmonies, i.e., vocal technique that would both train the voice for proper movement, as well as the actual songs that the young choristers would sing in performance. On dance training, the Athenian Stranger is more forthcoming. There are two components of dance training – lessons in technique and choreography: τῆς ὀρχήσεως δὲ ἄλλη μὲν Μούσης λέξιν μιμουμένων, τό τε μεγαλοπρεπὲς φυλάττοντας ἅμα καὶ ἐλεύθερον, ἄλλη δέ, εὐεξίας ἐλαφρότητός τε ἕνεκα καὶ κάλλους, τῶν τοῦ σώματος αὐτοῦ μελῶν καὶ μερῶν τὸ προσῆκον καμπῆς τε καὶ ἐκτάσεως, καὶ ἀποδιδομένης ἑκάστοις αὐτοῖς αὑτῶν εὐρύθμου κινήσεως, διασπειρομένης ἅμα καὶ συνακολουθούσης εἰς πᾶσαν τὴν ὄρχησιν ἱκανῶς. 52 50

Cleary (2003) 165-172. See also Morrow (1960) 331 on the traditional Greek division of lessons; letters and mathematics would be included in mousikē. 51

On choreia and gymnastikē as continuous features of the Magnesian curriculum, see Morrow (1960) 332 and 335. Teachers will be hired from abroad to teach all things relating to war and music (7.804c9-d4), and all boys, girls, men and women are mathētes of hoplomachia; even after formal military training has ended, adults must continue to drill and march (7.813e4-814c5). 52

I am in agreement with England (1921) 253, that lexin Mousēs implies the choreographed pieces that the students will learn, that is, the full text of the song and dance, not simply the spoken text, as in Diès (1956) 22. England compares it to “acting Shakespeare;” Morrow (1960) 336 construes the text similarly. The interpretation of lexin

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Of dance there is one [part of training] with the students performing the song while the teachers watch for nobility and appropriateness; the other [part of training] is for strength, agility and form, with the teachers watching for the proper level of flexibility and extension in the limbs and parts of the body, also for rendering to each of these parts its own rhythmic movement, which permeates and attends all dance (7.795d10-796a1). Technique trains the body in posture, alignment, strength and agility; it also teaches the basic vocabulary and syntax of dance, with the ultimate aim of fluency in the language of movement.53 The level of difficulty in technique, like that of the dances themselves, would naturally increase as the dancer advances in study. We can well imagine beginner, intermediate, and advanced levels of study, with the Muses’ Chorus accordingly studying basic technique and choreography in the first several years, as they learn also how to be part of a working choral group, how to lead and be led.54 The continued study and practice of dance technique, then, is both preparation for and adjunct to performance at all levels.

Mousēs bears on our understanding of the whole passage. Saunders (1975) 271, citing Athenian practice, interprets two different purposes to the lessons, performance and fitness, which is not far from the mark, except that fitness in and of itself is not a viable goal. Strength, agility, and beauty are human goods (1.631d; 649d-e; 2.661b; 7.789de; 795e3-6), so not to be considered ends, but rather, means to achieving virtue (1.630e3; 631-632); in short, the training of the body is for the larger purpose of choral performances for the gods. Furthermore, while some laws in Magnesia are modeled on Athenian practice, the choral world of Magnesia is not; rather, Plato establishes it in firm and direct opposition to non-traditional Athenian choral practices, for which, see Kowalzig (2006) 43-44. Folch (2006) 240-244 oddly complicates the matter by reading three different genres of dance, rather than the two explicitly stated types of lessons, but the text does not support this here or elsewhere. In the end, common sense and the history of dance, whose training has always included lessons preparatory to learning and performing choreographed pieces, should prevail. 53

The language of movement is culturally specific. Kaeppler (1986), 25-33, has made a strong case for culturally defined grammar of movement, on the structural linguistics model. Acquisition of this language from the smallest units of meaningless and meaningful movement to their roles in larger units of meaning is the goal of dance technique. Movements are isolated and perfected; and when they are perfected, they are linked to other movements in meaningful sequences. The shorter sequences are then perfected and variation with movements and sequences follows, building meanings and their corresponding forms of expression. 54

The importance of persuasion and explanation to effective instruction and compliant citizens is discussed at length (4.722b9-723d5), but crops up throughout the dialogue: the lawgiver setting an example of moderation in funerals is a method of persuasion (4.719d2-e7); instruction in the duties of married couples to reproduce is a matter of persuasion (6.783d4-7); persuasion should always precede compulsion (6.753a4; 10.885e2-3); the combination of persuasion and compulsion as the tool of the wise ruler (4.711c3-4), not least of all in his attempts to get poets to teach the right things (4.660a4-9; 661c6-9).

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Given the level of musical expertise required of the members of Dionysus’ Chorus (2.670c10-671a6) and the specifically advanced knowledge of the Nocturnal Council (12.949b9c3; 964d3-8; 965b5-9), we should also expect a basic level of theory during this time, in which the fundamental musical distinctions between war and peace and gender appropriate strains are laid out. Perhaps the mimetic configurations for the dances of war and peace would be included in this basic instruction. For those proving themselves intellectually and morally inclined, it is reasonable to suppose the opportunity for advanced choral instruction that would include theory, perhaps addressing the processes of mimesis and assimilation. When Magnesians reach the age of twenty and are ready to leave the Muses’ Chorus, they have been practicing the choral and martial arts for fourteen years. While choreia and combat are central to lessons in the Magnesian formal educational system, the rest of the curriculum bears mention. At ten Magnesians begin their formal focus on mousikē, beginning with three years of grammata, writing and reading (7.809e8-810a1), followed by a three-year study of the lyre (7.810a1-3).55 The stated goal of literacy is the individual’s ability to serve the state, so while children must be able to read and write, virtuosity in hand-writing (speed and beauty) is not required (7.810b1-3).56 The study of the lyre is

55

The Athenian suggests that three years are sufficient for these lessons. We might best understand the intent in limiting the study of letters in the Athenian”s own utilitarian question: what level of expertise in letters – if any - is right for one who is to become a good citizen? He admits that literature (and the lyre) cannot be neglected (7.809e49). But he is wary of traditional education in which students are expected to memorize whole works, amassing poetic knowledge (much of it not good for them) without any clear purpose. In the end, he judges such polymathia a danger to children (7.811b3-5) and declares a minimalist standard of literacy. Morrow (1960) 335 suggests that the three years should not imply that study of grammata and lyra are limited to those three years; rather, their study receives more focus in those three years. He also suggests that mathematics may be a continuing feature of study, since the rudiments of math and geometry were introduced before formal education even begun. 56

This aim of basic literacy seems implicitly overturned in the Athenian’s discussion of what literature is appropriate to read. Clearly, students will not be memorizing vast chunks of poetry or prose, most of which is of a dangerous character, since it teaches what is incorrect (810b6-c2; 810e7-811a7; 811b2-5). The Athenian”s solution is that whatever literature young Magnesians do read will find its paradigm in the very discourse in which the

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similarly minimalist, simplicity and basic knowledge of the useful elements of music the stated goals (7.812e3-5). The notes of the lyre and the singer’s voice must not be at variance, nor must they combine low notes with high, sharp with grave, slow tempo and quick, or introduce any other kind of rhythmic variation which would impede rapid acquisition of basic musical skills (7.812d1-e2).57 All Magnesians will have simple, practical knowledge of the instrument, and it will thus prove useful to the polis through the pleasure it affords (7.813a1-4); again, usefulness to the state is the criterion and aim. No particular span of time is identified for the study of arithmetic, geometry (7.820c4-d2) and astronomy (821a2-6).58 The majority of students will learn as much of these sciences as is necessary for the purposes of war, household management, and civic administration, what the Athenian Stranger calls smikra paideia, little paideia (734e6-735a5). Any that show themselves intellectually and morally receptive, will engage in advanced study, akribestera paideia (670e14; 7.809c8-d8; 818a1-8) which seems to approximate the nature of study in which the

Athenian and his interlocutors engage. Any poetry, prose, or dialogue that the nomophylax finds is in keeping with the content and aim of the text of the Laws itself will be committed to writing, and this is the literature suitable for the young (811c5-812a1). It would seem, then, that the types and amount of suitable literature, whether discovered outside Magnesia and then revised or composed within it, may not be so limited as would initially appear. This strategy is worth commenting on. The Athenian Stranger initially imposes a limit on the study of letters that seems to ensure not much more than basic literacy; he then opens up the realm of possibility for studying every literary genre, only limiting what citizens read and study to literature whose content is compatible with that of the dialogue itself. Since the poetic and prosodic output from the rest of the world is rife with harmful content, the logical implication is that the literature Magnesians read will be written by Magnesians themselves, and that whatever literary genre a Magnesian creates will be distinctly Magnesian, having undergone the kinds of revisions that all genres will. It is just the content that will be regulated for its usefulness in creating wise and just citizens (811c812a). Folch (2006) 121-140 observes a similar strategy with threnody - while at first sight it may seem that it is allowed, albeit with restrictions (7.800d8-e4), it is in fact the very content of the threnos, grief and lamentation, that is legislated out of Magnesia in favor of what Folch calls a “eulogistic poetics.” I have suggested Plato uses a similar strategy in dealing with tragedy and comedy. 57

The text does not offer any further details, apart from a brief mention of citharoedic contests (6.764e1) and improper, virtuosic use of the instrument (2.669e1-670a3). 58

The Athenian invokes the Egyptian practice of advanced work in arithmetic and geometry: Magnesian children will learn as much of them as Egyptian children do (7.819a9-b1).

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philosophers of the Republic engage.59 Although the Athenian Stranger limits the goal to basic knowledge in the sciences, it is not clear just how basic this knowledge will be. Ideally, most of the students should know all the necessary elements of these sciences, although this is not a realistic expectation for all students (7.818a4-6). However, the sciences that are noble, true, and beneficial to the state, are also pleasing to god and ought to be pursued (7.821a8-b2), and in the end, it is the criterion of utility (ōpheleia) that determines the curriculum in Magnesia. This extends to choreia. As I noted in the previous chapter, the songs and dances that are approved for the Magnesian choral repertoire are those which represent virtuous people comporting themselves with courage in battle and moderation in prosperity. We can now say of the spoudaion class of dance that in both movement and content it must deliver paideia, and therein lay its benefit to individuals and to state. I would also venture to add that for Plato the movement cannot be separated from the content: the movement is the message. So paideia, then, is transmitted in the good, orderly movement characteristic of virtuous people, yet it is also the result of that ethical and cultural transmission. Since one of the stated aims of paideia is the pursuit of perfect citizenship, I suggest a possible syllogism that distills Plato’s understanding of choreia as a means of imparting paideia (and so homonoia): “If the man trained in singing and dancing good songs is considered educated, and if the educated man desires to become the perfect citizen, then the man trained in singing and dancing good songs desires to become the perfect citizen.”

59

Cleary (2003) 165-171.

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Part Two: Plato’s Choral Psychology We have noted the basic psychophysical mechanism by which Plato understands choreia to deliver ordered (and so wholesome) movement to the soul and body of the unquiet child. In that example, the only requirement for the character or quality of movement is that it is continuous and rhythmic, like the movement of the sea (7.790c7-d1). This has, as we have seen, an ethical component: even when very young, children will display a natural tendency toward fear, which is the result of a poor condition of the soul (disorderly inner motion), and whose inevitable end is cowardice (790e9-10; 791b6-10). Continuous, rhythmic movement, beginning before birth and continuing into youth, is central to developing that part of virtue that will counteract cowardice, namely, courage (791c5-7). So measured, rhythmic movement is somehow necessary to the development and practice of virtue. In the first three years of life, the child is physically and psychically habituated to rhythmic movement, and this movement can result in a cheerful soul. As she grows and begins to participate in games, songs and dances, and to develop an intellectual sense of their content, those songs and dances must continue to possess and deliver ethical value; in short, they must make citizens happy and help to instill and refresh virtue in them. The psychophysical mechanism operating in young children continues to operate throughout one’s lifetime, and the continuous rhythmic motion required in early childhood remains central to the nourishment and wellbeing of the Magnesian adult’s soul. However, that movement, after the age of three, no longer falls under the control of adults, but begins to be self149

generated. The child is no longer carried, but becomes mobile (7.789e6-10), and he is guided, by means of games, to move his body with rhythm and order and in coordination with other children. When, at the age of six, he joins the Muses’ Chorus and begins formal lessons in song and dance, he continues to learn how to generate orderly and rhythmic movement himself. Initially, he will do so as a choreographic requirement and in imitation of orderly movement, but eventually and ideally, he will move himself in an orderly fashion as a natural expression of his own inner harmony. At the risk of redundancy, I reintroduce the following passage to show how in adults the psychophysical mechanism is the same as in children: ἐν δὲ δὴ τοῖς τοιούτοις που πᾶς ἄνθρωπος τὰς κινήσεις τοῦ σώματος μειζόνων μὲν τῶν ἡδονῶν οὐσῶν μείζους, ἐλαττόνων δὲ ἐλάττους κινεῖται, καὶ κοσμιώτερος μὲν ὢν πρός τε ἀνδρείαν μᾶλλον γεγυμνασμένος ἐλάττους αὖ, δειλὸς δὲ καὶ ἀγύμναστος γεγονὼς πρὸς τὸ σωφρονεῖν μείζους καὶ σφοδροτέρας παρέχεται μεταβολὰς τῆς κινήσεως· ὅλως δὲ φθεγγόμενος, εἴτ’ ἐν ᾠδαῖς εἴτ’ ἐν λόγοις, ἡσυχίαν οὐ πάνυ δυνατὸς τῷ σώματι παρέχεσθαι πᾶς. διὸ μίμησις τῶν λεγομένων σχήμασι γενομένη τὴν ὀρχηστικὴν ἐξηργάσατο τέχνην σύμπασαν. ὁ μὲν οὖν ἐμμελῶς ἡμῶν, ὁ δὲ πλημμελῶς ἐν τούτοις πᾶσι κινεῖται. In these situations, every person moves with rather violent motions of his body when his pleasures are greater, with less emotional movements when his pleasures are smaller. Again, his movements are less emotional when he is physically trained in courage and is more orderly; but the one cowardly and untrained in temperance is given to greater and more violent changes of motion. Generally, everyone using his voice, whether in song or in speech, is not at all capable of keeping his body at rest. Consequently, the representation of words by means of gestures resulted in the entire art of dance. While one of us moves in tune with all things, another moves out of tune (7.815e5-816a5). This passage illuminates several salient features of Plato’s choral psychology. In this fifth account of the origins of choreia, we are no longer asked to imagine the human race like young mindless animals in a disorderly romp until the gods descend to bestow order in the gifts of

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rhythm and harmony; rather, in this developmental account, our attention is directed toward the psychophysical and communicative impulses that give rise to song and dance.60 Here, Plato presents them as evolutionary developments, emerging from the basic social impulse of individuals to communicate with one another by representing themselves in words and movement. These psychological impulses to communicate lead to vocal and bodily impulses. These physical movements in turn lead to the development of choric technē, which orders vocal and bodily movement into understandable and communicable forms that can be passed on within the authorized cultural contexts of formal education and festivals.61 The passage also reaffirms the correlation between the movement of the body and the movement of the soul. Not only do an individual’s character and emotions (psychic movement) manifest themselves in corresponding physical movements, but physical movement directly influences psychic movement and so can effectively shape the character of the soul (hexis psychēs). The Athenian Stranger states emphatically in Book Ten that the soul’s motions constitute all the elements of one’s personal identity, one's ethical disposition (10.896e9-897a5). Soul is self-movement (896a3-5), prior to and governing the body (896c1-3);62 it is also the driving force of one’s identity, its motions being wish, reflection, forethought, counsel, true and 60

Cf. the birth of choreia and paideia as attributed to the gods, and their authorized context is the religious festival, which renews and reaffirms the lessons of formal education and provides continued communion with the gods and other members of the community (653c8-d7). Paideia, though divinely authored, firmly remains a function of human political achievement. In fact, perfection can only be attained within the framework of the city. In the evolution of the state, the post-diluvian, pre-political society is one free of evil, i.e., dikai and stasis (the political arts of war); the people are more simple, brave, temperate, and just, because they have none of the technai of city life (3.679d3-e3). But they lack the first of the virtues, phronesis (wisdom, understanding), which in Republic 585b is necessary to real pleasure. Wisdom, then, is closely tied to the life of the city, and since they are lacking all the civilized arts (677b6-10; 677c5-9), they cannot be perfect in either virtue or evil (678b1-4). This innocent state of humans, like the innocent state of children, requires training to perfect its goodness. 61

Wundt (1973, Reprint of 1921) 6 is considered the first modern to suggest that gestures are a primitive form of language borne of emotional states. See also Hanna (1983) 15. 62

Cf. Phaedrus 245e6-246a3.

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false opinion, joy, grief, confidence, fear, love, hate, and all the motions related to these (896e9897b7). These motions of character take over the secondary motions of the body and account for its variety and combinations of movements (898e9-899a3). Whether a soul governs its motions in accordance with reason or in contradiction to it is discernible in the individual’s physical movements and bearing; this accounts for why the courageous man moves differently from the cowardly man (8.897a5-b7). This correlation between body and soul, in which physical movement and ethical disposition causally influence one another, constitutes an overlooked development in Platonic dualism. In the Phaedo Plato establishes the body and soul as separate entities, the former material and ephemeral, the latter immaterial and immortal (57a-67b; 72e-77a; 95a-105e). Simply stated, the body dies, and the immortal soul traverses the heavens, partaking of the Forms, until it is reincarnated in a new body, and the cycle repeats itself. The epistemological significance is that learning is not the act of apprehending new knowledge, but of remembering the knowledge in which one's soul participated during the reincarnation cycle.63 However, beyond defining the body as a prison of the soul or a tool through which the soul might study (65B; 79C), the Phaedo does not establish the nature of the relationship between body and soul, or the intellect.64 By the time Plato composes the Laws the body and soul are still, in substance and concept, separate entities, but the former houses the latter, and they both have movement and the capacity to affect one another’s movements. What accounts for this capacity? The Timaeus 63

Platonic dualism, as laid out in the Phaedo, is based upon four arguments: the indestructibility and immateriality of the soul, reincarnation, knowledge as recollection of the Forms, and the argument of opposition. On the psychology of the Phaedo, see Robinson (1995, 2nd ed.) 111-118. See also Broadie (2001) 295-308, who argues that, as early as the Phaedo, the soul for Plato is a thinking soul. The Laws is often overlooked in the body/mind/soul discussion, but see Carone (2005) 227-269. 64

It is not within the scope of this project to trace the development of this in the Platonic corpus. Ostenfeld (1987) 24-49 offers a helpful overview of Platonic thinking on the matter in the early, middle and late dialogues.

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edges us a little closer to the nature of this psychophysical correlation in the Laws. God, the creator of the living universe and immortal things, charges his progeny with the creation of mortal things (69b3-c4): οἱ δὲ μιμούμενοι, παραλαβόντες ἀρχὴν ψυχῆς ἀθάνατον, τὸ μετὰ τοῦτο θνητὸν σῶμα αὐτῇ περιετόρνευσαν ὄχημά τε πᾶν τὸ σῶμα ἔδοσαν ἄλλο τε εἶδος ἐν αὐτῷ ψυχῆς προσῳκοδόμουν τὸ θνητόν, δεινὰ καὶ ἀναγκαῖα ἐν ἑαυτῷ παθήματα ἔχον πρῶτον μὲν ἡδονήν, μέγιστον κακοῦ δέλεαρ, ἔπειτα λύπας, ἀγαθῶν φυγάς, ἔτι δ’ αὖ θάρρος καὶ φόβον, ἄφρονε συμβούλω, θυμὸν δὲ δυσπαραμύθητον, ἐλπίδα δ’ εὐπαράγωγον· αἰσθήσει δὲ ἀλόγῳ καὶ ἐπιχειρητῇ παντὸς ἔρωτι συγκερασάμενοι ταῦτα, ἀναγκαίως τὸ θνητὸν γένος συνέθεσαν. Imitating him, they took the immortal principle of soul and then framed around it the human body and gave the whole body as its vehicle; and another kind of soul, the mortal kind, they housed in there, as well, which has within it passions terrible and unavoidable: first, pleasure, the greatest temptation to evil; then pains which put good things to flight, and in addition, confidence and fear, both foolish counselors, as well as anger hard to assuage and seductive hope. And blending these things necessarily with irrational sensation and desire ready to try anything, they thus put together the mortal kind of soul (69c7-d5). The body’s relationship with the soul is a functional one: it is the soul’s vehicle, a medium or material manifestation.65 Here the soul is not entirely immortal, but rather has mortal parts that are housed in different parts of the body: the rational, immortal part in the head, the mortal spirited part in the chest, and the mortal appetitive part in the belly. They are all separate, yet connected by adjacent parts of the body, and Plato works out in some detail the physiology and movement characteristic of each part (69d7-70d6). 66 Holding together and governing all these different parts and their

65

This is not the only instance in which the body is the soul’s designated driver. Cf. Phaedrus 246c4-e2; Laws 898e8-899a2; Epinomis 986b4. 66

Joubaud (1991) 104-113, esp. 109-110, traces Plato’s physiology in minute detail; she also observes the correspondence between physical and psychic movement in the Timaeus.

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movements, particularly those related to pleasure and pain, is the head (akropolis), which houses the immortal part of the soul, reason (70a8).67 In Timaeus, then, we see the nature of this psychophysical relationship as it emerges in the choral psychology of the Laws. Because the body is the house of the soul, it follows that the soul’s motions can be affected by the body’s motions, like the contents of any container that is put into motion. Furthermore, the soul’s motions can become habituated to the motions imposed by or upon the body. Conversely, the immortal part of the soul, since it has reason, can direct the motions of the mortal parts of soul, and so the body. In that sense, the body is also the soul’s vehicle, a material manifestation of the incorporeal. In both Timaeus and the Laws, body and soul function in a partnership that is borne out of and defined by movement.68 This dualistic interactionism is a key to Plato’s thinking on learning and, ultimately, citizenship in the Laws, where movement is fundamentally informed by the sensations of pleasure and pain, and this applies to both individual and state. 69 Indeed, the psychophysical

67

Cf. Cratylus 400a5-6; Timaeus 38e5; Epinomis 984bc.

68

The Laws’ descriptions of soul focus on its movements, not its parts; the debate over whether Plato retains or jettisons the tripartite division of soul in the dialogue is not within the scope of this project. In Republic 442e, the harmonious functioning of the soul, that is, the proper functioning of its three parts, constitutes justice (dikaiosynē) in individual and state. Injustice results from akrasia, a bad mixture of the parts. Bobonich (1994) 3-36 believes the tripartite soul of the Republic has been abandoned in the Laws in favor of a unified agent. However, Gerson (2003) 149-154 rejects any change, maintaining the Republic’s account of the soul”s structure remains in place in the Laws. Both Bobonich and Gerson emphasize the phenomenon of akrasia as the hinge upon which our understanding of the soul”s structure in the Laws swings. Both, however, neglect to consider the physical structure and activity of the city of the Laws, which does, in fact, present unified, reasoned and rhythmic movement of its parts, in correspondence to the soul’s structure and activity. 69

Interactionism is the form of dualism which posits that the body and mind, though conceptually and substantially separate entities, causally influence one another. It is also known as Cartesian dualism or Cartesian interactionism, since it is typically attributed to the French philosopher. See Alanen (2003) 44-45; 170. Indeed, discussions of Platonic dualism tend to be very brief, before moving on to Aristotelian and Cartesian dualism, on which the literature is abundant. For a sample, see: Hamlyn (1978); Hart (1994); Nussbaum (1984); Robinson (1983); on Cartesian dualism, see: Hawthorne (2007); Rozemond (2002). The Laws, however, provides us with some insight into how Platonic dualism expanded and evolved. This is key to understanding how Plato’s theory of learning has evolved, as well.

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phenomena of pleasure and pain inform the work of the nomothetēs, whose technē is described as “almost entirely the investigation of pleasures and pains in states and in individuals (636d48).”70 The condition of the soul - one's ethical disposition - consists fundamentally in the soul's responses to pleasure and pain, which manifest in distinct and identifiable physical movements.71 Because physical movement is not merely an indication of the character of individual or state, but also a means of shaping character and preparing the soul (or state) for virtue, it falls securely within the Lawgiver’s directive. More to the point, as the technē that coordinates the pleasurable movement of voice and body, choreia is one of the most powerful educative and political tools at the Lawgiver’s disposal. This potential rests, in the end, upon choreia’s mimetic nature and the human capacity to become habituated to the movements and ethical dispositions associated with pleasure: Ἐπειδὴ μιμήματα τρόπων ἐστὶ τὰ περὶ τὰς χορείας, ἐν πράξεσί τε παντοδαπαῖς γιγνόμενα καὶ τύχαις, καὶ ἤθεσι καὶ μιμήσεσι διεξιόντων ἑκάστων, οἷς μὲν ἂν πρὸς τρόπου τὰ ῥηθέντα ἢ μελῳδηθέντα ἢ καὶ ὁπωσοῦν χορευθέντα, ἢ κατὰ φύσιν ἢ κατὰ ἔθος ἢ κατ’ ἀμφότερα, τούτους μὲν καὶ τούτοις χαίρειν τε καὶ ἐπαινεῖν αὐτὰ καὶ προσαγορεύει καλὰ ἀναγκαῖον, οἷς δ’ ἂν παρὰ φύσιν ἢ τρόπον ἤ τινα συνήθειαν, οὔτε χαίρειν δυνατὸν οὔτε ἐπαινεῖν αἰσχρά τε προσαγορεύειν. οἷς δ’ ἂν τὰ μὲν τῆς φύσεως ὀρθὰ συμβαίνῃ, τὰ δὲ τῆς συνηθείας ἐναντία, ἢ τὰ μὲν τῆς συνηθείας ὀρθά, τὰ δὲ τῆς φύσεως ἐναντία, οὗτοι δὲ ταῖς ἡδοναῖς τοὺς ἐπαίνους ἐναντίους προσαγορεύουσιν· Since choric dances are representations of temperaments in all kinds of actions and circumstances, in which individuals go through [performances] by habit and imitation, when the words or tune or choreography are fitting for them, whether due to inclination or habit or both, then they necessarily delight in them and praise them and pronounce them good; but those for whom it 70

νόμων δὲ πέρι διασκοπουμένων ἀνθρώπων ὀλίγου πᾶσά ἐστιν ἡ σκέψις περί τε τὰς ἡδονὰς καὶ τὰς λύπας ἔν τε πόλεσιν καὶ ἐν ἰδίοις ἤθεσιν· 71

Those responses, in the Laws, are categorized in terms of the virtues of moderation and courage or the failings of intemperance and cowardice. These are the virtues or shortcomings most easily discerned in one’s movements and comportment. This will be explored further in the concluding chapter.

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is not in their nature, manner or habit, cannot possibly enjoy or praise them, but they pronounce them bad. When people have a correct nature but incorrect habits, or correct habits and incorrect nature, they declare praise contrary to their pleasures (2.655d4656a4). One’s tastes, that is, what one finds pleasurable, are determined either by natural inclination or by habituation. We recall that the first instance of aretē and paideia in the child is when his response to pleasure and pain is in accord with what is deemed correct, even before he possesses the intellect to understand the nature of their accord (2.653b1-c4). However, even if one is naturally inclined toward correct responses to pleasure and pain (moderation and courage), one must also be habituated to them, since it is possible to have correct inclinations yet to have acquired habits that are contrary. One must also continue to reinforce the good inclinations and habits throughout one’s life; to this very end, festivals were established in order to renew and reinforce the lessons learned earlier in life (2.653c1-d7). The question arises: wherein lies the harm (blabē) in taking pleasure in dances and songs with bad content or the benefit (ōpheleia) in taking pleasure in dances and songs with good content (656a6-8)? The text is fairly straightforward in its answer: habituation is the natural outcome of pleasure, and assimilation (homoiousthai) is the natural consequence of habituation (656b1-9). The Athenian Stranger employs the image of the person living among men of bad character (ponērois ēthesi): if this fellow takes any pleasure in those habits, he will take the path of least resistance and adopt those habits, even if he knows they are wrong; after time, he will inevitably internalize those habits, becoming himself like the men of poor character (656b1-9). The practice of habits is a physical act that, over time, leads to an ethical transformation. This assimilation from physical to ethical habit is a fact (anagkē) of human psychology (656b5; b8), and so has the greatest potential for the greatest good or the greatest evil (656b8-9).

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When we imagine this in choral terms, we begin to see why Plato expands choral performance in frequency and participation, while simultaneously limiting its content to the eulogistic discourse of hymns and praise, with only virtuous objects of imitation, namely, moderate and courageous souls. The noblest and truest principle by which the good man lives, says the Athenian Stranger, is to engage in continuous sacrifice and communion with the gods (4.716d3-e1). 72 Indeed, the singular lifelong pursuit of every man and woman should be the serious play of sacrificing, singing and dancing (7.803.c8-10; 803d10-e6; 8.835d6-e2).73 Sacrifice, song, and dance in Magnesia are not merely continuous, but also inclusive.74 Every Magnesian is intended to spend his or her lifetime singing and dancing. Again, we are struck by the choral nature of citizenship. Because choreia participates in both mousikē and gymnastikē, it effectively engages both body and soul in rhythmic and ordered motion, in ways the other movement of the entire body

72

The continuous sacrificial activity may account for Hestia’s prominence in the triad of centrally placed temples along with Zeus and Athena (5.745b7-c2; 8.848d6-9; 11.856a2). Closely associated with Zeus, Apollo (Homeric Hymn XXIV), and Hermes, the goddess of the hearth is present at, indeed necessary for, every sacrifice (Homeric Hymn XXIX, esp. 106). This image of Hestia at the center of the moving city is presaged in the Phaedrus’ description of the choruses of the gods, who dance around Hestia, the only god to remain at home (247a1-2; 247d45). 73

The state of Magnesia is accordingly designed to ensure sufficient leisure, as well as external and internal peace, so that sacrificing, singing and dancing form the core of Magnesian life. Leisure is necessary for a society whose lives are spent pursuing excellence in citizenship by means of educational, religious, social and political activities (7.806d7-807a6; 807c4-5; 807d4-5; 8.828d8-829a1; 832d2). For a brief discussion of leisure in Magnesia, see Bobonich (2002), 389-391. Peace (eirēnē) is one of stated aims of the lawgiver (1.626a2-3; 628b6-8; c10, d8-10; 640b8) and the ideal circumstance for the state (4.713e1; 5.738a6; 7.796d3; 8.829b2; 866a4; 12.955c1-3); it is also found in a cluster of other terms for commonality, harmony and friendship: symphōnia (2.653b6; 3.689d5-6); koinōnia (3.694b6; 4.708c3; 5.730e6); philia is the most common (1.628b8; 640d1; 2.653b2; 693c3-e1; 3.694b6695d1; 697d5; 698c3; 4.708c3; 5.730e6-731e4; 759b6; 8.823b6; 836e5; 840e1; 843a3; 9.862c3; 865a5; 876e6; 10.919e5). The first aim is to achieve internal peace, within the soul, the family, and the state (1.628a4-b5), and this is ensured by the abolition of extreme wealth or poverty (5.742e1-b3), and along with it, the dissolution of the customary sources of internal strife, axiōmata, (3.690a1-d1). External peace will be safeguarded by the state”s isolationist (4.704d6-705c1) and diplomatic policies (12.952d4-953e4). 74

Children, as well, are included in the sacrificial activity of the city on a regular basis, playing a rather prominent role in ritual by performing at every sacrifice (2.664c5-8).

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(wrestling) cannot.75 Because it is pleasurable and mimetic, it can deliver desirable motions (nourishment) to the soul, preparing the soul for happiness and virtue by habituating it to the movements associated with the ethical condition of virtue. Furthermore, it is a social activity that teaches harmonious interaction with fellow citizens. In short, choreia moves body, soul and state toward virtue. If we are correct in our reading of an evolved Platonic dualism in the Laws, training the body to move rhythmically and with measure has the capacity to train the soul to move likewise; the soul then can learn to govern its own motions and those of the body in accordance with measure. Because singing and dancing good songs and dances is both pleasurable and has ethical value, the citizen becomes habituated to the physical and psychic movements, and ultimately, with frequent choral performance, will begin and continue to assimilate to the virtuous figure represented in choric performance. We also begin to appreciate why there is a distinctly physical component to training in both courage and temperance (1.632d10-634a5; 647c7d9; 648d1-e5; 7.815e5-816a3). Both the soul and the body require training to harmonize their movements with reason and with one another. We might venture to describe the dualistic interactionism of the Laws, then, as the correlative process of assimilation between the individual's internal and external motions. Indeed I suggest that, for Plato, this assimilative correlation is at the heart of mimesis. It is a natural process itself, the regulation of which consists in training the motions of the individual from birth through adulthood, by all the formal and informal means at the disposal of a civilized culture paideia.76 Paideia regulates the mimetic processes natural to the human psyche. More

75

The Athenian, describing the categories of lessons, describes mousikē as for the soul and gymnastikē as for the body (795d7-9). 76 And, as we will see, architecture and urban planning.

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significantly, this correlative process is fundamental to the more complex processes of social mimesis and so elemental to Plato's understanding of all mimetic activity. Indeed, the Laws might well be described as a psychology of mimesis. Because choreia is a fully mimetic art, it has the capacity to affect the condition of the soul through more than rhythmic movement and content alone; in short, it is more than the relationship between the individual soul and its body. It involves the powerful relations between the artist, the performer, the artistic product, the audience, and the space of performance - indeed, the entire community and the spaces within which its members move. Therefore, its regulation by law and tradition is the surest means by which the lawgiver might capitalize on choreia's ethical valence while managing its potentially deleterious effects. Thus choreia serves the aims of paideia to create and nurture perfect virtue and happiness in citizens and state. While it is primarily a physical act, the rhythmic movement of the entire body, for Plato it has deep ethical implications. Herein lies the political thrust of Plato's choral psychology and a key to understanding the often quoted, yet cryptic, aphorism that the whole art of song and dance constitutes all of paideia: Ὅλη μέν που χορεία ὅλη παίδευσις ἦν ἡμῖν (672e5-6).

Conclusions Magnesian choral activity occupies two distinct mimetic spheres, peace and war, and the virtues most closely associated with each, temperance and courage. The mimetic figures, or objects of mimesis, in each case are those possessing these virtues. Given the assimilative momentum of choreia, the mimetic spheres of peace and war are configured precisely to activate, through habituation and assimilation, the analogous ethical configurations in performers and audience. This requires correct representation in both the dances of peace and of war. 159

Τό τε ὀρθὸν ἐν τούτοις καὶ τὸ εὔτονον, τῶν ἀγαθῶν σωμάτων καὶ ψυχῶν ὁπόταν γίγνηται μίμημα, εὐθυφερὲς ὡς τὸ πολὺ τῶν τοῦ σώματος μελῶν γιγνόμενον, ὀρθὸν μὲν τὸ τοιοῦτον,τὸ δὲ τούτοις τοὐναντίον οὐκ ὀρθὸν ἀποδεχόμενον. Whenever there is representation of noble bodies and souls, and there is straight posture and vigor in these [movements] and alignment in the body’s limbs – such [representation] is correct, but if [executed] otherwise, it must be considered wrong (7.815a8b3). Likewise, with the emmeleia, if the dancer cannot regularly effect the kinds of movements that accurately represent the noble and moderate person, then his representation is wrong. τὴν δὲ εἰρηνικὴν ὄρχησιν τῇδ’ αὖ θεωρητέον ἑκάστων, εἴτε ὀρθῶς εἴτε μὴ κατὰ φύσιν τις τῆς καλῆς ὀρχήσεως ἀντιλαμβανόμενος ἐν χορείαις πρεπόντως εὐνόμων ἀνδρῶν διατελεῖ. And with the dance of peace, this must be observed in each case, whether the dancer continues correctly or not to achieve noble dance with his singing and dancing, in a manner fitting to wellgoverned men (7.815b3-7). These may well be allusions to perceived deficiencies in Athenian choral performances, and we should not rule out such a possibility, but there is more at stake than the aesthetics of performance. 77 These are the kinds of details which a member of Dionysus’ Chorus would observe and correct, in order to ensure the kind of representation that would lead to the assimilation of the virtues of the moderate and law abiding person. If the mimetic configurations of peace and war are designed so that every time a Magnesian dances, he or she is representing either the virtue of courage or the virtue of moderation, the frequency of performance is intended to ensure to the greatest extent that citizens assimilate the virtues, so that ultimately they will enact them, not merely represent them. Indeed, the choral repertoire of Magnesia is designed to create the best possible circumstances for individuals to assimilate, learn, acquire and practice these two virtues. 77

Morrow (1960) 361-361.

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These are the two virtues most easily recognizable in their physical manifestation. The person trained (gegymnastos) in courage and moderation naturally effects smaller, more deliberate movements than one untrained (agymnastos) in those virtues (815e7-816a3). He will still respond with greater pleasure to newfound prosperity, and this will be manifest in his movements, but he will be capable of a certain control and orderliness in his response, which will also be manifest. The implication is that the movements (and actions) of the courageous and moderate person can be discerned and distinguished from the movements (and actions) of the cowardly and excessive person; it follows, then, that if these virtues and vices can be discerned in actual, physical movement, then they can be imitated in dance. Given dance’s ethical and assimilative force (2.656b1-9), as well as the aim of the lawgiver to guide citizens toward total virtue, dances in Magnesia must imitate people of courage and temperance.78 Plato’s choral choices hinge in part upon the psychological process of habituation and assimilation. Inasmuch as it imitates or expresses character manifested in situations and deeds, choreia is a fully mimetic act (2.655d5-9; 2.668b10-c1; 7.798d8-10).79 As such, it possesses assimilative momentum, that is, it compels one toward likeness of what is imitated (2.656b1-9).80

78

Another implication is that the objects of imitation are figures trained in moderation. The Lawgiver must turn his citizens’ minds toward the pursuit of complete virtue: 1.632c5; 3.696d4; 4.630e3; 6.776d8; 8.853b7; 10.899b6; 900d2; 12/945e3; 962d2; 964c5. 79

Cf. Aristotle Poetics 1.1447a27: καὶ γὰρ οὗτοι διὰ τῶν σχηματιζομένων ῥυθμῶν μιμοῦνται καὶ ἤθη καὶ πάθη καὶ πράξεις. 80

Gebauer and Wulf (1995), 304-307 stress the relative independence and liminality of mimesis, in its movement toward likeness or even dissimilarity, a process far too complex to be reduced to the notion of assimilation. However, assimilation is one possible trajectory for mimesis. On real or imaginary figures as models of human behavior, see Wulf (2002), 109-111, in his discussion of imagination as a mimetic social force. He identifies seven types of imagining acts, all of which are fluidly and simultaneously informed by one’s individual history and inherited cultural memory: orientating images, images of desire, fantasies of will, memory images, mimetic images, and archetypal images. While Plato’s focus in the Laws is in regulating the mimetic images, that is, the real or imaginary people imitated in choral performance, one might, upon further exploration find instances in the Laws of an awareness of the other types of imagining acts identified by Wulf. Though not within the scope of this present project, such an investigation might prove illuminating.

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Thus spectator and performer can assimilate the emotions, virtues, and vices of the figures imitated, just as one may assimilate the behaviors and characteristics of those with whom one is in regular converse (2.656b1-9; 5.728b4-c5).81 The educational, and so political, value of dances lies in the very dispositions and virtues that they represent and can, by habituation and assimilation, teach. The spoudaion class of dance, as we have seen, requires the attention of both lawgiver and citizen, precisely because it creates the ritual choral occasions in which the representation and assimilation of the virtues of courage and moderation can occur, at the level of individual and, when multiplied, at the level of the state.82 Central to Plato’s choral psychology is the link he observes between psychological and physical movement. Order imposed on psychological movement constitutes reason, while order imposed on physical movement constitutes rhythm. What kind of movement is ordered movement? The movement of nous, as we learn in Book Ten (897.b9-c10) and in Timaeus 34a14, is distinctly and naturally circular and measured. The circular motion of human rational thought (in the immortal part of the soul), because it is bound within the body, may be disrupted by some physical movements and encouraged by others, like the rocking to and fro of sleepless children (Timaeus 43a-44a; Laws 7.789b5-790a4). The movement that restores or instills circular motion must be imposed by external motion on babies and children. However, for adults, the

81

If assimilation is the thrust of mimesis, then likeness is the goal. It is naturally the goal of the artistic endeavor (2.667d11-e2; 668b2), but it plays out in all aspects of the dialogue, and the theme of “like to like,” is prevalent. Similarity with one another is a good and desirable thing in a polis (5.741a7; 7.816d1), the basis of friendship (4.716c2; 8.837a7-8), as well as godlikeness, since one must be measured, like god, to be dear to him (4.716d2). Likeness, like all other things, should also be moderated. In marriages, partners should least resemble each other”s characters, so as to create a balanced mix (6.773b7); and during the monthly city-wide marches, every citizen must practice to come as close as possible to the real thing (battle) in order to be fully prepared for it (8.830b3). 82

Folch (2006) 6; 26-28; 87-91, stresses Plato’s concerns with the political dimensions of musical performance, so that new paradigms of performance are tantamount to new paradigms of citizenship.

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intentional movement practiced in choreia may establish and maintain the orderly movement of body and soul (10.896b13-e1), and to this we will turn in the next chapter. What emerges, however, is not merely a choral psychology, but a psychology of movement that extends beyond the dancing space to the city at large, in its planning and structures. The abundant leisure afforded the Magnesian citizens does seem to allow for an impressive amount of dancing and singing, but when Magnesians are not singing and dancing, ordered motion still defines their lives.

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5 Moving Like God, Being Like God: The Choral Teleology of Magnesia Introduction In the previous chapter, I examined the ethical valence of choral performance and how the phenomenon of assimilation informs Plato’s choral choices in the Laws. Choreia works upon a natural psychophysical process, in which the body’s motions influence the motions of the soul, and vice versa; the practice of choreia trains and transforms these motions, by means of rhythm and harmony, into the orderly movement of body and soul. By habituating the body to rhythmic, orderly movement and the imitation of virtuous figures, regular choral activity promotes the orderly movements of the soul, maximizing the potential for the assimilation of courage and moderation. It also serves as a model for citizenship, inasmuch as choral and civic participation both require leading and being led with a sense of measure, timing and justice, that is, understanding when it is best to do one or the other. Choreia can serve to create a physical, psychic, and even social environment well disposed to virtue, and it is arguably the most prominent element of Magnesian ethical and civic training. However, choreia is not in itself sufficient to effect perfectly orderly motion or complete virtue, nor is it the sole means by which Plato means to achieve such aims. Rather, choreia is a significant part of a unified endeavor of orderly movement toward godlikeness that subtends all activity in Magnesia. In this chapter I will explore this endeavor.

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First, we must establish a working definition of godlikeness as it emerges in the Laws, and this will necessitate a brief survey of the notion and its treatment in scholarship.1 The Middle Platonist Alcinous explains that for Plato the whole end (telos) of human endeavor is likeness to god insofar as is possible: homoiōsis theoi kata to dunaton (28.1).2 For Alcinous, the notion plainly holds a prominent place in Plato’s thought, but scholarly consideration of the term and concept has been irregular. In 1946 Culbert Geron Rutenber published The Doctrine of the Imitation of God in Plato, a comprehensive study of the notion in the entire corpus that includes the language of the divine, of imitation, and of the virtues. Rutenber finds first that the concepts of following and imitating god are used interchangeably, and further, that the notion develops throughout the dialogues culminating in an understanding of god as the unity of the virtues, and godlikeness as the progressive and continuous human endeavor to express this unity of the virtues through action.3 Prior to the Laws the concept of imitating or following god appears in Theaetetus, Republic, Phaedrus, Philebus, and Timaeus, where it is variously aligned with intelligence, reason, and holiness, often moderation, and very frequently justice; once (Timaeus

1

Passmore (1970) 30-57 traces the idea of the imitation of god to a general dissatisfaction with traditional Greek theology in the sixth century. He cites the combined moralizing of Xenophanes, the speculative cosmology of Thales, the aesthetic sense of perfection in Parmenides” sphere, and the Pythagorean connection between mathematics and religion as an expression of order and harmony as major influences on Plato’s thought. For the Homeric Greeks, heroes provided the models for action, and to aspire to be godlike was hubristic and ruinous. 2

See Dillon (1993) 171; 174-176, who situates the identification of the Platonic telos with godlikeness in a firstcentury BCE Alexandrian trend to anchor Plato firmly in the Pythagorean tradition, citing the Pythagorean precept hepou theō: follow god. The Pythagorean influence on Platonic thought is less problematic than Alcinous’ understanding of Plato. For a recent treatment, see Riedweg (2005). 3

Rutenber (1946), esp. 69-76; in addition to the five virtues as characteristics of god, Rutenber adds sufficiency and adequacy (68-69), and to human endeavor, he adds holiness, inasmuch as it is closely aligned in the corpus with justice (78). He also offers a comprehensive review of the vocabulary of godlikeness, revealing a constellation of terms from likeness and imitating (homoios, homoiousthai, mimeomai, theoeides) to the more active images of following or accompanying god (sunakoloutheō, hepomai), which Plato uses interchangeably throughout the dialogue (17-20).

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90a-d) godlikeness is explicitly designated as our telos.4 However, Rutenber finds that in the Laws godlikeness evolves into something like a social virtue, particularly because it becomes possible for the common man (the non-philosopher) to achieve; through cult and civic activity that links the body and soul ethically, the individual may actively imitate god and practice virtue.5 After Rutenber’s study, which is the most comprehensive to date, godlikeness fell off scholarly radar until the late 1990s, when David Sedley and Julia Annas independently traced the development of the notion in the later dialogues and its influence on later thinkers.6 Neither scholar is aware of Rutenber’s work, and both pass over the Laws, although the work constitutes Plato’s last thoughts on the matter.7 For Annas, civic virtue does not suffice to achieve godlikeness, and the intellectual or contemplative life remains the real path to godlikeness, which

4

Theaetetus 176a homoiōsis theoi; Republic 501b theoeides te kei theoeikelon; 613a homiousthai theoi; Phaedrus 253b timōn te kai mimoumenos, also 246d, 248a, 249c; Laws 716b tōn sunakolouthēsontōn esomenon toi theoi; Timaeus 29e paraplēsia heautoi, as well as 47c, 89e-90d. See also Philebus 28c-30e and Phaedo 78b-84b. On justice as the linchpin of the other virtues, see Laws 2.661e1-5; 662cd. The Lawgiver must look to all the virtues (1.631-632), but see 663a10-b4 on the role of nous and dikē; 4.715e-716a on justice personified as accompanying god in circular motion; as measure, see 691c; 629ab; 716-717; 819de. On what constitutes likeness to god in Theaetetus 176a-b: intelligence, justice and piety constitute likeness to god; in Republic 613a, it is the practice of justice; in the Phaedo 82a-b, moderation and justice. Courage, Alcinous says, is passed over as not as relevant to godlikeness, but the Athenian Stranger characterizes the gods as possessing full virtue (10.900d2), and courage specifically (900e10). He does not explain further, but this does pose an interesting question. It does seem that courage is learned, via assimilation, through pyrrhichē performance and military training; moderation is learned, via assimilation, through emmeleia and sussitia. And in Laws 12.963e1-10, the Athenian Stranger tells us that courage is closely linked to fear, an emotion shared by children and animals; actual courage emerges naturally and without reason (logos). The other virtues of justice and wisdom are not directly addressed in these terms. Holiness, however, is designated as a trait of the good and just man. 5

Rutenber (1946) 91 emphasizes activity as central to godlikeness. Several years later, Merki (1952) traced the influence of ancient notions of godlikeness upon the fourth-century theology of Gregory of Nyssa. Merki”s aim is to illuminate the works of Gregory. Although his chapter on Plato (as well as Posidonius, Philo, the Neoplatonists, and Clement) is thorough, it is not as insightful as Rutenber’s study. 6

Sedley (1997) 327-339 and (1999) 309-328 detects the beginnings of the concept as early as the Symposium. Annas (1999) 52-71. 7

Sedley (1997) 327 n.1; (1999) 309 n.1 acknowledges Merki’s study and Passmore’s as the only two serious studies of godlikeness in Plato.

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is limited to the philosopher only.8 Sedley, who focuses primarily on the Timaeus, emphasizes the divine’s circular movement as the key to understanding godlikeness, emphasizing a distinct and intimate connection among the circular motions of the World Soul, the heavens, the intellect, and god. For Sedley, the circular motions of the universe, soul and intellect are not metaphorical, but a physical fact; consequently, godlikeness consists in ordering one’s psychic and intellectual motion in emulation of the divine’s natural motion, which is orderly, constant, and circular.9 Rather more recently, John Armstrong and Daniel Russell have sought to incorporate the Laws more substantively into this conversation on godlikeness.10 Their findings are compatible with Rutenber’s, inasmuch as they understand the physical and social movement this implies. Armstrong maintains that Plato’s later understanding of god as nous (intelligence) should shape how we understand what it means to be godlike and that by the time Plato is writing the Laws, ‘following god’ has come to imply active participation in an intelligently ordered physical world.11 For Armstrong, this means understanding how the universe is physically ordered and actively engaging in living with others in as measured and just a manner as possible, modeling one’s life on the order of the universe. Russell also understands godlikeness in the Laws as consisting in ordering the motions of one’s soul, as well as one’s world, in emulation of the

8

Annas (1999) 69.

9

Sedley (1999) 318-319; 322-323. In agreement with Sedley is Burnyeat (2000) 57-59, who adds the spatial dimension of soul (whether Soul or a specific human soul) to the conversation; though not corporeal, soul has extension in three dimensions, like the universe, and so should not be understood figuratively, but literally, in terms of movement. 10

Armstrong (2004) 171-183; Russell (2004) 241-260. Armstrong acknowledges the work of Rutenber, but does not draw upon it. 11

Armstrong (2004) 171-172; esp. 190-182. For a study devoted to the concept of nous and its relation with psychē, see Menn (1995). On understanding nous as forms of cognition and this as a form of divine movement, see especially 14-24.

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divine ordering of the universe. 12 Their studies emphasize the active, social nature of godlikeness which, whatever its earlier indications, by the time of the Laws is the just and measured activity of ordering one’s life and world in emulation of god’s ordering of the universe, an activity with abundant ethical and civic implications.13 To wit, in Book Four (716c1-2) the Athenian Stranger poses the question, “What conduct (praxis) is dear to and consequent upon (akolouthos) god?” Invoking the principle of like being dear to like, he maintains that being dear to god requires being like god. Inasmuch as god is measure – indeed, the measure of all things (pantōn chrēmatōn metron) – one who conducts himself with moderation (sōphrōn) is dear to god (716c2-d1). Conversely, one who lives without measure (mē sōphrōn) and justice (adikos) is not merely different from god, but is opposed to him (716d1-2). Here the defining characteristic of god, and so the godlike person, is measure followed by justice.14 Moreover, measure and justice do not constitute a static condition of soul, but rather serve to characterize a specific activity or behavior (praxis). Later, in Book Seven, the Athenian Stranger characterizes the correct life (orthos bios) as neither the pursuit of pleasure nor the complete avoidance of pain, but rather the measure (to meson) and graciousness (hileōn) that are characteristic of god (7.792c8-d3). This gracious moderation between pleasure and pain is the very condition that anyone who would be godlike must pursue (792d4-5). Yet that is not 12

Russell (2004) 248-250.

13

The dissertation by Welton (1993), esp. 67-85 and 143-159, reaches a similar conclusion, though by the path of civil theology, rather than godlikeness. On the nature of ethical activity in Magnesia, about which we will say more below, see Bobonich (2002) 450-473, who aims to understand whether ethical activity in the Laws is self-interested or other-regarding, since it seems that good political activity and ethical activity, which both embrace justice and measure, are one and the same in Magnesia. The discussion illuminates, if indirectly, what is meant by “being like god insofar as it is possible,” for while the rational part of the soul may be “other-regarding,” it always competes with the human tendency of self-interest. 14

On justice as an attribute of god, see Rutenber (1946) 75-76. Cf. also Timaeus 69b, where justice ensures proper measure and due.

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the sole criterion of godlikeness: anyone godlike must also watch over all those around him – men, women, old, and young (especially the young) – in order to guide them on this very path of gracious moderation (792d5-e1). In short, godlikeness in the Laws constitutes a moderate and just life and the obligation to lead others to a moderate and just life. I hope to show that the practice of godlikeness, that is, the practice of moderation and justice, also involves the regular, rotational motion which Sedley detects as part of godlikeness in the Timaeus. If Plato’s conception of godlikeness has only recently reappeared on scholarly radar, his preoccupation with movement in the later dialogues has long been recognized, particularly in terms of the ordering circular motions of nous, the World Soul, and the divine so prominent in the Phaedrus, Timaeus, and the Laws.15 Again, the Laws offers us Plato’s last thoughts on this matter. In Book Ten the Athenian Stranger connects the circular motion of the heavens, god (s), nous (intellect) and psychē (soul). Introducing the taxonomy of motion (kinēsis), he characterizes the first kind (of ten) as circular motion around a fixed center, that is, rotational motion in a single direction without a change of location (893c5-d5), likening it to a wheel turning in place (898a3-4). 16 This is the very motion he goes on to describes as that which is most similar and appropriate to (oikeiotatēn te kai homoian) the circular movement (periodoi) of nous (897d4-6; 898a6-7). Furthermore, the motion of the heavens and all in them, indeed the whole kosmos, moves and revolves like nous (897c5-10).17

15

See Skemp (1942) 5-7 suggests that Plato’s interest in motion and its laws became more focused later in life, perhaps in response to his unfortunate experience in Sicily. On the continuity between Timaeus and Laws, Skemp deals primarily with Book Ten, and the Athenian Stranger’s description of the ten kinds of motion (893c6-894c8). See also Parry (2003) 268-275; Halper (2003) 257-267. 16

Mayhew (2008) 106-154 offers a particularly helpful commentary to some extremely difficult and elusive passages, particularly the Athenian Stranger’s description of the ten kinds of motion (893b1-899d3). 17

The vocabulary of circularity is notable here: periphora (893c7; c9; 897c6; 898c2; c3; d4); kuklos (893c6; c8; 893c10; d4; 898a5); periodos (897b8; 898a5); periagousa (893c8; 898c4).

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Psychē (soul) has a part to play in this. The Athenian Stranger defines it as self-moving motion (the tenth kind of motion), inasmuch as it is the source and movement of life in all things (895a5-b6; 895c7-10; 895e9-896a2). As such, it drives and governs all things in the universe, and when it does so in conjunction with nous (noun men proslabousa), its motions are regular and uniform, and it is the best soul, the aristē psychē (897b2-7). The best soul drives all things around in a circle, caring for and ordering the universe (898c4-8). The visible proof of this is the circular movement of the heavens: the stars, planets, sun, and moon are all driven by soul and, the Athenian Stranger tells us, are gods (899b3-10), who have as their very own duty the care of the all - tōn pantōn epimeleian oikeiotatēn (900d3).18 Godlikeness consists in ordering one’s own psychic motions, so that they resemble the movement of psychē that works in conjunction with nous. Since the movement of nous is rotational, the orderly movements of the soul will be, as well. As we recall, the orderly movement of the soul effects orderly physical movement (896e9897b2), and this becomes a consideration not only in isolation, but also in one’s interactions with others, in dance and in other social and civic activities. As Rutenber, Armstrong, and Russell have observed, godlikeness is ultimately expressed in action within community. For instance, we have seen that choral activity, inasmuch as it enacts orderly, measured movement of the body and soul, functions ethically to prepare the individual for virtue; yet it also functions as a model for civic motion, leading and following others with justice and at the correct time. As we will see, it also includes ordering one’s world and caring for all within it, expressly godlike activities (10.900c8-d3; 903e2-904a3). While 18

This calls into question the ontological status of gods and god in the dialogue. See Mayhew (2008) 133 -137 on the ambiguity and confusion surrounding calling the sun a god; he suggests that “nous is what makes the gods gods,” and that psychē with nous that directs the kosmos is most appropriately what Plato intends when he talks about god in the singular. Morrow (1960) 483-484 also addresses this confusion by describing nous as “the prime factor in the ordering of the world . . . and this is in the highest sense the divine. On the other hand, Nous can only function as an operating cause in the world when in alliance with a soul.”

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ordering and caring for one’s world might not at first glance seem to involve circular motion, I hope to show that Plato in fact intends these activities to follow a circular, regular and central pattern and that the actual, physical circularity that Sedley discerns in the Timaeus remains profoundly influential in the Laws, informing Plato’s construction of the state and culture of Magnesia. Plato envisions the state of Magnesia as a unified motional enterprise, where orderly movement, visible and invisible, is the means of emulating the divine and practicing godlikeness. Indeed, he designs Magnesia in its entirety to engage godlike activity in citizen and state, and at the heart of this design is orderly, measured movement in all its assimilative force. Moreover, since the orderly movement of the universe and the divine (psychē with nous) is circular, Plato aspires to a state that moves in as circular and central a manner as possible, so that “being like god as much as possible” should be understood as “moving like god as much as possible.” To achieve this, Plato organizes human activity in Magnesia into three general areas – the ethical, civic, and environmental – and he fashions each of these areas of activity into an expression of orderly motion.19 Choral activity, as we have seen, informs the ethical dimension; care of others, the civic; and the environmental dimension consists in the city’s design. We will find notable overlap among them, to be sure. For instance, we have seen that choral performance is also a paradigm for civic life, and we will also find that the care of others is contingent upon the care of one’s own soul, a decidedly ethical concern. Yet it will be helpful to examine this motional enterprise in its constituent parts.

19

This is a civic endeavor, not only because the aim of the Lawgiver is the virtuous citizen and state, but because this kind of endeavor can only happen in a polis. See 3.678b1-4: neither complete evil nor complete virtue is possible with the technai of the city.

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We examined the ethical articulation of godlikeness in the previous two chapters – in choreia and the orderly movement of the body and soul. There, orderly physical movement enacts orderly psychic movement and promotes the assimilation of virtues. Plato’s Magnesia is designed as a kosmos in which choreia constitutes the defining and continuous expression of worship and citizenship, embodying and promoting psychic, physical and civic harmony of movements. The civic articulation of godlikeness comprises the care of all those around, and this involves both physical and figurative movement from the center to the periphery of the state. Finally, often overlooked in Platonic studies is the significance of the environment’s impact upon the soul. Magnesia’s location and its circular and central design are intended to guide the orderly movement of the citizens in all activities, particularly in their care for themselves and all around them. Although each of these spheres of activity imitates and engages godlike movement, no single sphere can render the individual or state godlike. Plato intends for them to work in tandem to effect godlike movement that integrates and permeates all aspects in the life of individual and state. Together, they engage the complete state and in regular, orderly movement that is both physical and psychic, thereby enacting Plato’s comprehensive vision for the virtuous state that moves in all its parts and in its entirety, like god.

Part One: Philia as Care of the Soul and of Others One of the express concerns of the dialogue and chief aims of the Lawgiver is the cultivation of philia - regard or friendship - at every level of existence in the state (1.628a4). This is compatible with the term’s rather broad range, which extends from relations between family

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members, neighbors, citizens, communities or states.20 A state at peace and free of external strife enjoys philia with other states, while a state free of stasis (civil strife) enjoys philia with itself (697d5; 653b2; 628c3). In order for a state to experience such philia with itself, its citizens must enjoy friendship with one another and households must enjoy generational harmony (694b6; 695d1; 699c1; 708c3; 730e6; 836e5; 848e1). Throughout the dialogue the term is partnered or alternated with the words for peace (eirēnē), agreement (homonoia), commonality (koinōnia), or harmony (symphōnia), which is also in keeping with their general use. Significantly, Plato also uses the term to describe the accord between emotion and reason within the individual (693e1 and c3; 731e4). As we noted earlier, the individual who can order the motions of his soul in accordance with reason is beneficial both to others and to himself. We might also describe such an individual as one who enjoys philia with himself. While the term implies the agreement of the parts, also implied is an understanding of the relationship among the parts, whether the parts of one’s own psychē, household, or city. Armstrong is correct to observe that every citizen is responsible for attending to the city’s virtue, and I would add that this care of the city’s virtue includes care of his own self, the gods, and his parents, neighbors, and fellow citizens.21 The Lawgiver’s aim is not merely to achieve philia in citizen, household, and in the city, but to make such philia the aim of each citizen, as well. This involves the care that begins with one’s self, one’s own soul, and proceeds outward toward the limits of the state, and the Athenian Stranger is very precise in his description of how this plays out in real, human terms.

20

For philia describing affection or friendship between individuals, see Theognis 306; Herodotus 7.130; Euripides Hippolytus 254; Democritus 109; Andocides 3.29; Xenophon Memorabilia 2.6.29, Cyropaedia 3.1.28; describing familial affection, see Xenophon Hiero 3.7, Anabasis 1.6.3; Aristotle Politics 1453b19; describing friendly relations between communities or states, see Thucydides 5.5, 6.34; Isocrates 6.11, 14.33, 16.28; describing general agreement, Phaedrus 237c; see also Timaeus 32c3 on philia among the elements of the universe constituting order. 21

Armstrong (2004) 181-182.

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We return to the question the Athenian Stranger poses in Book Four, “what human conduct is dear to god and in his steps” (716c1-2) ? The initial formulation makes reasonable philosophical sense: likeness to god is dear to god; since god is measured and just, acting with measure and justice is dear to god and in his steps. The passage – as the Athenian Stranger admits at the end (718b3-e3) – is a prelude to the actual laws or guidelines addressing the care of one’s own soul in Book Five.22 In it, the Athenian Stranger elaborates on what this conduct dear to god is: the good man who wishes to live happily would find it most noble, fair and helpful to commune constantly with the gods through prayers, sacrifices, and devotions (4.716d3-e1). Communion with the gods begins with the Olympians and moves on to ancestral deities and daimons (717a6-b6). However, after communion with the gods, one must look to the care of one’s parents (717b6-718a7), then to one’s family, friends, citizens and strangers (718a8-b2). These expressions of care are technically not part of communion with the gods, and we will see that in Book Five they constitute the care of one’s own soul. Annas finds the whole prelude disappointing, seeing in its prescription for godlike conduct no more than traditional forms of deferential behavior, through which she finds the acquisition of virtue untenable.23 However, she takes the passage in isolation, neglecting that communion with the gods in Magnesia is a politically inclusive activity, rendering it quite nontraditional. Furthermore, this prelude is designed to set the stage for Book Five’s treatment of the 22

The prelude begins at 715e6. Cf. 4.722c5-723d5, 724a1-6, where the Athenian Stranger describes what he has just articulated as a prelude, and further says that all laws shall have preludes as a means to persuading the souls of the citizens to agree with them. He then describes the nature and function of preludes to actual laws; they are prefatory, descriptive, and persuasive, by describing the behavior, its benefits, and the consequences should it not be observe. Nightingale (1993) esp. 286-289, studies the rhetorical strategy and formula of dramatizing the preludes as addresses by the Lawgiver to the Magnesian citizens. Nightingale concludes that these utterances by the Lawgiver, though they may constitute rational persuasion, do not invite question or discussion. Bobonich (1991) 369, however, sees room for citizens to question the beliefs suggested in the preludes and laws. 23

Annas (1999) 56-57. This is the only passage from the Laws that Annas addresses.

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care of the soul as a means of pursuing godlikeness. Before turning to that, it will be helpful to examine briefly the beginning of prelude, which includes the Lawgiver’s first fictional address to the colonists, in which he sets forth very directly the law, its benefits, and its consequences should it not be observed: Ἄνδρες τοίνυν φῶμεν πρὸς αὐτούς, ὁ μὲν δὴ θεός, ὥσπερ καὶ ὁ παλαιὸς λόγος, ἀρχήν τε καὶ τελευτὴν καὶ μέσα τῶν ὄντων ἁπάντων ἔχων, εὐθείᾳ περαίνει κατὰ φύσιν περιπορευόμενος· τῷ δὲ ἀεὶ συνέπεται δίκη τῶν ἀπολειπομένων τοῦ θείου νόμου τιμωρός, ἧς ὁ μὲν εὐδαιμονήσειν μέλλων ἐχόμενος συνέπεται ταπεινὸς καὶ κεκοσμημένος, ὁ δέ τις ἐξαρθεὶς ὑπὸ μεγαλαυχίας, ἢ χρήμασιν ἐπαιρόμενος ἢ τιμαῖς, ἢ καὶ σώματος εὐμορφίᾳ ἅμα νεότητι καὶ ἀνοίᾳ φλέγεται τὴν ψυχὴν μεθ’ ὕβρεως, ὡς οὔτε ἄρχοντος οὔτε τινὸς ἡγεμόνος δεόμενος, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἄλλοις ἱκανὸς ὢν ἡγεῖσθαι, καταλείπεται ἔρημος θεοῦ, καταλειφθεὶς δὲ καὶ ἔτι ἄλλους τοιούτους προσλαβὼν σκιρτᾷ ταράττων πάντα ἅμα, καὶ πολλοῖς τισιν ἔδοξεν εἶναί τις, μετὰ δὲ χρόνον οὐ πολὺν ὑποσχὼν τιμωρίαν οὐ μεμπτὴν τῇ δίκῃ ἑαυτόν τε καὶ οἶκον καὶ πόλιν ἄρδην ἀνάστατον ἐποίησεν. πρὸς ταῦτ’ οὖν οὕτω διατεταγμένα τί χρὴ δρᾶν ἢ διανοεῖσθαι καὶ τί μὴ τὸν ἔμφρονα; ‘Gentlemen,’ we would thus say to them, ‘now god, as ancient tradition goes, holding the beginning, the end, and the center of all things, completes his course, according to nature, traveling in an unswerving path. Justice always follows him closely, avenger of those falling short of divine law; and whoever would be happy clings to and follows her humbly and orderly. But whoever is elevated by arrogance or boasts of riches or honors or physical beauty out of youth and ignorance, is inflamed in his soul with insolence that he needs neither ruler nor guide but is sufficient to lead others, and he is left behind, abandoned by god; and when abandoned he attracts yet others like him, throwing all into confusion with his unruliness; and many will find him pleasing, but soon he will pay the penalty, not undeserved, to Justice, as he brings utter ruin upon himself, his household, and his city. In consideration of things thus disposed, what ought the prudent man to do or to think or to not think or do (715e7-b8)?

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Cleinias readily answers this question (715b9-10): everyone ought to devise so as to be among those following god.24 It is then that the Athenian Stranger asks what conduct constitutes following god and is dear to him, proposing that just and moderate conduct is in the steps of and like to god (716c2-d2). The prelude continues to explain that to render care (therapeumata) of the gods and all others, indeed, at all levels of personal interaction (718a10-b2) is not merely to order one’s life, but in so doing to brighten and improve one’s life (718a10), a notion that echoes the concept of being useful to oneself, both of which indicate that civic virtue positively impacts the individual. It has a real ethical dimension.25 It is with this in mind that we turn to Book Five and the care of the soul. This book begins with one of the most forceful and memorable precepts in the dialogue: πάντων γὰρ τῶν αὑτοῦ κτημάτων μετὰ θεοὺς ψυχὴ θειότατον, οἰκειότατον ὄν. τὰ δ’ αὑτοῦ διττὰ πάντ’ ἐστὶ πᾶσιν. τὰ μὲν οὖν κρείττω καὶ ἀμείνω δεσπόζοντα, τὰ δὲ ἥττω καὶ χείρω δοῦλα· τῶν οὖν αὑτοῦ τὰ δεσπόζοντα ἀεὶ προτιμητέον τῶν δουλευόντων. οὕτω δὴ τὴν αὑτοῦ ψυχὴν μετὰ θεοὺς ὄντας δεσπότας καὶ τοὺς τούτοις ἑπομένους τιμᾶν δεῖν λέγων δευτέραν, ὀρθῶς παρακελεύομαι. After the gods, of all one’s possessions, one’s soul is the most divine, since it is most one’s own. One’s own belongings are in all cases twofold: the stronger and superior are the ruling parts, while the weaker and inferior the parts that serve. So of one’s own belongings, one must honor the ruling elements over the serving elements. Thus, in saying that one must honor his own soul after the ruling gods and those secondary to them, I advise correctly (5.726a2-727a3). 26 24

Δῆλον δὴ τοῦτό γε· ὡς τῶν συνακολουθησόντων ἐσόμενον τῷ θεῷ δεῖ διανοηθῆναι πάντα ἄνδρα.

25

The word phaidrunamenon is used only once again in the Laws, 6.769c1, when the Athenian Stranger likens their task to that of a painter who creates an object (referred to as a zōon) of beauty that can always improve; the painter, being mortal, needs to find a successor to repair any deficiencies left by time and to continue to improve – brighten – the object of beauty. 26

England (1921) vol. 1, 472 follows Ritter and Stobaeus, who believe meta theous is a later addition, since the gods are neither possessed by humans nor godlike. Although the Athenian Stranger has just expounded on the proper care of the gods and daemons, its placement in the sentence makes it hard to construe as transitional, although Taylor (1934) 109 offers: “Of all a man has – after the gods – the divinest thing, and the most truly his own, is his soul.”

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If we recall, in the prelude we are enjoined to take care of the gods first, and next all those around us, beginning with those closest to us and moving outward to strangers (717a6-718b6). There is no mention of the care of our own souls. Yet here the Athenian Stranger inserts the care of our own souls as second, after the gods. It would follow that the care of all others comes after the care of the soul, but I hope to show that the care of one’s own soul includes the care of all others that, indeed, both are to be understood as oikeiotaton. The nature of one’s soul is established here with certainty: it is a possession, the most divine and the most one’s very own.27 The soul is central to the individual’s sphere of attention, obligation and care. After communion with the gods, one must care for his soul, his dearest possession. It is hardly a coincidence that the description of one’s soul as oikeiotatos – most one’s own - is used again in Book Ten to describe god’s care for all things as the thing most his own (900d3). The image of thousehold, family, kinship, as well as obligation to all those ties, is unmistakable. One must order one’s soul, just as one orders those relations. Implicit in the ordering and harmonizing is philia. Turning briefly to the notions of attentiveness and care, we will begin to see how this informs the ordering of one’s soul and life. Following upon his discussion of the need for citizens to be alert and actively engaged most of the time, the Athenian Stranger adds: ἀλλ' ὅστις τοῦ ζῆν ἡμῶν καὶ τοῦ φρονεῖν μάλιστά ἐστι κηδεμών, ἐγρήγορε χρόνον ὡς πλεῖστον, τὸ πρὸς ὑγίειαν αὐτοῦ μόνον φυλάττων χρήσιμον, ἔστιν δὲ οὐ πολύ, καλῶς εἰς ἔθος ἰόν. But anyone of us who has an especial care for living and thinking is awake as much as possible, keeping only what he needs for

And Saunders (1970) 189: “Of all the things a man can call his own, the holiest (though the gods are holier still) is his soul, his most intimate possession.” 27

The divinity of the soul is restated later at 728b1: psychēn theiotaton.

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health, and this isn’t much, once the habit is well formed (7.808b7c2). I wish first to draw attention to the word kēdemōn. The word has been translated by Taylor as “he who sets most store,” and by Saunders as “a man who is particularly keen,” and these interpretations certainly capture the gist of the passage, but they do not approximate the sense of guardianship or obligation, correctly suggested by England and Diés.28 This calls to mind the emphatic obligation of every person to watch over education and set it straight should it go wrong (2.644b1-5), as well as the obligation of anyone who would be godlike to watch over the lives of others, to guide them toward moderation and justice (7.792d5e1). The point to be taken is that each citizen must be attentive, because each has in his or her care every aspect of the city; each citizen of Magnesia is effectively, and according to his or her capacity, a guardian of the state and its inhabitants, institutions, and the harmonious movements among them. Just as attentiveness involves more than merely being physically awake, guardianship involves more than merely protecting the borders from potential external enemies. It is an obligation that extends from center to periphery, to all those with whom one interacts, and it begins, as we have seen, with the care of the gods (4.716d4-e1; 5.727a1-3); second only to this is the care and honor of one’s soul. Honoring one’s soul must be carefully described, particularly because it is easily confused with catering to one’s desires, which injures, rather than honors, the soul. The Athenian Stranger, again assuming the role of the Lawgiver addressing his citizens, seeks first to distinguish between behaviors that injure the soul and those that honor it. This is an 28

Taylor (1934) 193; Saunders (1970) 291; Pangle (1988). Diés (1956) 40; England (1932) vol 2 284. In Iliad 23.163; 674 it is used of those attending to the dead; as protector or guardian, see Theognis 645; Sophocles Philoctetes; Xenophon Memorabilia 2.7.12; of the guardians in the Republic 412c13; 463d3. The notions of care and concern and obligation are found predominantly in forms of epimeleia, epimeleō (117 instances in the Laws) and therapeia (29 instances in the Laws).

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area of confusion for many, who believe that the care and honor of one’s soul consists in the gratification of desires and amelioration of fears when, in fact, it lies in improving the soul’s goodness. Behaviors that are merely responses to pleasure and pain, not to reason, damage the individual engaging in them; and while they are typical of youth, unchecked and untrained, they could easily inform the habits of adulthood (727a9-b4). Furthermore, the harmful effects of these behaviors spread to the community by elevating or privileging one person or group of persons over others. The Athenian Stranger identifies eight behaviors which injure and dishonor the soul, but which are often mistaken as means for honoring and caring for it: lavish religious displays, self-praise, unaccountability, engaging in unlawful pleasures, avoidance of toil and hardship, avoidance of death at all costs, valuing beauty over goodness, and over-valuing wealth (5.727a3-728b2). The list is illuminating for our understanding of care of the soul and philia. Lavish religious displays constitute bribery of the gods (10.901c9-d5; 905d9-e3; 908e35), which indicates that one is praying for the gratification of one’s desires; they also sway others to behave similarly, competing for prestige and dominance and marginalizing those who are unable to compete.29 Self-love leads to self-praise and to blaming others for one’s own errors. This both feeds one’s desires for prestige and allays one’s fears of accountability; in both instances, self-praise alienates and injures others (5.731d9-732b4). Surrendering to pleasures that are contrary to reason and the law leads one to pursue pleasures, resulting in regret; likewise, surrendering to fear leads one to avoid at all costs what is difficult or painful, as when one convinces himself that any kind of life is better than the death he fears (727c4-d6). Finally, privileging beauty and wealth over goodness honors the fleeting, human goods over the divine, and constitutes a skewed understanding of real value (727d7-728a5). Most significantly, these 29

The sumptuary laws regarding religious observance, as discussed in Chapter Three, are established to prevent precisely this kind of behavior.

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behaviors elevate or alienate others and thereby endanger philia. Dishonoring the impacts all others; it follows then that care of the soul does as well. “Man,” the Athenian Stranger says, “has no possession better suited by nature than the soul for the avoidance of evil and for the tracking and taking of what is best of all things, and living in fellowship therein, for all his life” (728c9-d3). The soul, we remember, has already been described as the most divine (theiotatos) of all man’s possessions (726a3; 728b1); it is this divinity of soul that renders it uniquely equipped to order itself, its body, and its relations with the physical world around it. Doing so properly constitutes a specific hierarchy of guardianship and care that extends from the gods to one’s soul, one’s body, possessions, children, family, friends, citizens, and strangers (5.728c6-730a10). As with the soul, care of one’s body presents an area of confusion for many. Its proper care lies not in beauty, health, strength, and swiftness or their extreme opposites, but rather in a mean between the two extremes. Since the condition of the body affects the condition of the soul, either extreme would negatively impact the soul; or example, an overly powerful body will effect a prideful soul, a weak body a lowly, ineffectual soul (728d5-e8). Physical wellbeing is important as a means to achieving a virtuous soul. Care of one’s body then also involves the same moderation that honor of the gods and soul involves – a balance in all things. Moderation is also the key when it comes to the next sphere of care, the things most connected to one’s physical life: one’s possessions, both wealth and slaves (729a1-5). In excess, they breed enmity and stasis, both privately and within the state. Possession must be valued only as a means to achieving the moderate aims of a healthy body, itself a means to achieving a healthy soul. This will help to ensure that when they are passed on to one’s children, they come to them with the lessons of moderation and modesty, taught by the example of their parents and other elders (729a8-c5). This is how one cares for one’s children, by 180

teaching them moderation and modesty. This then extends to the honor of all one’s relatives and all those who share ancestral and tribal gods (729c5-9). Extending further beyond one’s oikos, one must care for friends and companions. Friendship will involve kindnesses and services, and to maintain good relations with friends, one should always place a higher value than they on the services he receives from them, and a lower value than they on the favors he does for them (729c9-d6). Beyond the close circle of friends, one interacts with fellow citizens; rather than competing with them for the kind of glory won in games at Olympia, one ought to strive for the glory of serving the state’s laws throughout his life, vying with others only for excellence in that regard (729d6-e1). Finally, the care of strangers is most sacred, since strangers, being without friends and family, are the most vulnerable and in need of care (729e1-730a10). In all of this care, the Athenian Stranger adds, one must always exercise truth, justice, generosity, a competitive spirit in goodness only, and passion combined with gentleness (730b10-c1); when one does, one serves as a model for imitation, a force for paideia (730b1-9). This care has as its model the gods’ care for the universe and all in it.30 Book Ten, though perhaps studied most for its lengthy discussion of the ten kinds of motion (893c5-899c1), also concerns itself with establishing the state’s official theology: the gods exist, they cannot be bribed, and they care for humans (885b4-9; 907d7-909c6). God and the gods are characterized as guardians and caretakers of all things, small and great. Most significantly, such care (like the care of one’s own soul) is most god’s own (epimeleian oikeiotatēn). The language of ownership (ktēma) is found in both passages, so just as our souls are our possession (5.726a3-4), we are the possessions of god or the gods (902b9-10; 906a9), and are decidedly in their realm of care: 30

It should not surprise us to find a universal model for such care in the demiurge who orders the universe and cares for it, and all things in it, whether they are small or great (903b4); god, in fact, says Timaeus, cannot act in any way other than kalliston (30a).

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ὡς ἀγαθοί γε ὄντες πᾶσαν ἀρετὴν τὴν τῶν πάντων ἐπιμέλειαν οἰκειοτάτην αὑτῶν οὖσαν κέκτηνται [the gods] since they are good in all goodness, possess such care of all things as is most proper for them (900d1-3). The gods are not simply our caretakers, but also our allies (906a6-9), and as a result of their complete goodness (pasa aretē), they care for the whole and for every small and great part in it (900c8-d3).31 Moreover, understanding that even a very small act affects all else in the universe (905a5-bc1), god who cares for the all has organized every part of the universe, down to the smallest mathematical unit, to strive together toward the same end, or telos (903b4-c1). The gods’ care of all things, the Athenian Stranger explains, is easy for them, because the universe has been created systematically in every aspect (903e2-a4); yet, despite the easy task, they are the greatest of all guardians (pantōn phylakōn eisi megistoi), since they guard over all of its parts, the greatest and smallest of things (907a1-2). The Athenian Stranger is emphatic that nothing escapes the gods’ notice because they are continuously attentive to the whole and all its parts at all times (900e4-901b1; 901d1-5; e3-7; 902b7; 907b6). We are reminded of the several passages in which attentiveness is a benefit of mathematical study, and it renders one useful to one’s city and to oneself (5.747b1-8; 7.808c2-6; 819c4-d1). Attentiveness is a benefit of understanding not just numbers; through the sciences one can train the movements of the intellect and the soul, as well as understand the numerical structure of the universe. Yet implied in this understanding, whether it is gleaned from advanced study or care of one’s world, is the knowledge that one is a part of the universe, along with others, and that one’s actions affect all in the universe. Caring for all, then, also means guarding philia. Explicitly, each citizen has, as his or her charge, the care of all others. Interestingly, the Athenian Stranger indicates some level of autonomy here: this care constitutes a choice that each 31

Cf. 899b3-10; 900c8-d5; on the complete virtue of the gods, which comprises nous, sōphrōnein, and andria.

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makes in how to live his or her life (715e7-716b11).32 Furthermore, this care of the soul and the world is continuous, requiring continuous attention and activity. This activity of care and guardianship, which is both personal and social, ethical and civic, nurtures the divine part of humans, the soul. Yet there is another aspect to care of the soul that must be addressed - its motion, figurative and literal. The care of the soul starts at the fixed center of one’s existence, in the care the gods and self, and then both attention and physical care radiate outward in concentric circles to the rest of society, with clear directives governing interaction at every level, from interaction with self to others. This is not to say that the gods’ care of the universe itself follows a centrifugal pattern; at no point does Plato say as much. However, since all things are ordered systematically, care of the all is also implied to be systematic (903b4). One is to care for one’s soul in a way that resembles the movement and care of the universe, which is regular and uniform, systematic and orderly (898a3-7). This involves concentric and ethical movement from oneself outward toward others, and this is not simply figurative circular motion. It is actualized in the citizens’ movements in the city, which is laid out physically in concentric circles in order to link each citizen with all other citizens in regular and uniform movements that circuit the city and extend from center to periphery. Plato designs Magnesia and its environment precisely to promote and guide this circular motion and to imitate the movement of the nous, the universe, and god.

32

The notion of choice and agreement is mentioned one other time, when the Athenian Stranger suggests that the complete agreement of the new colonists would be among the conditions optimal for their endeavor (5.745e7746ab1).

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Part Two: Circular City Design Book Three of the Laws ends with Cleinias revealing to his companions that he is among ten Cnossians serendipitously charged with founding a new Cretan colony and with selecting and framing its laws (702b6-d1). The old men’s conversation thus far then has been helpful for him, and his companions are delighted that their discourse should continue, now that it has taken on such a hopeful dimension.33 Book Four then commences with the Athenian Stranger eagerly questioning Cleinias about the site’s location and topography. His primary concern is whether or not the new colony can support the acquisition of virtue (704d5-7), and he directly relates this ability to the colony’s topographical situation and its consequent capacity for self-sufficiency. The least amount of contact with other states constitutes the best condition for virtue, while regular contact with other states, by necessity or proximity, leads inevitably to the pursuit of wealth, which in turn leads to internal and external strife, conditions decidedly inhospitable to virtue.34

33

The conversation has turned to what accounts for the failure or success of three historical states - Athens, Crete and Sparta (3.685a2-5), and the Athenian Stranger pauses to comment on the nature of their discourse: Ἀλλὰ μὴν δεῖ γε ἡμᾶς τοῦτο ἐν τῷ νῦν σκοποῦντας καὶ ἐξετάζοντας, περὶ νόμων παίζοντας παιδιὰν πρεσβυτικὴν σώφρονα, διελθεῖν τὴν ὁδὸν ἀλύπως, ὡς ἔφαμεν ἡνίκα ἠρχόμεθα πορεύεσθαι: but surely we must, as we now inquire and investigate, playing an old man”s sober game with laws, proceed on our journey painlessly, as we agreed when we started out (3.685a7-b2). While the word paidiai (games) is often associated with songs and dances (cf. 659e4; 673d4; 764e4; 771e6; 764e4) and with children’s activities, the games or pastimes enjoyed by adults and old men are associated elsewhere with the common meals and wine (cf. 666b5; 671e6). 34

This calls to mind the postdiluvian and somewhat idyllic society the Athenian Stranger describes in 3.678c5679d1; isolation, decreased population, and the loss of the technical arts of civilization all combined result in a society without extreme wealth or poverty, without war or internal strife, and people of a generally noble character (agathoi). See specifically 3.679b8-c2, where “it is in the community which dwells in neither wealth nor poverty that the most noble character arises, for neither insolence, nor injustice, nor rivalry nor jealousy happen there.” However, perfection of neither goodness nor evil is possible with the technical arts of civilized life, the arts of the asty, the city (678b1-4). In short, perfect virtue is not possible without the polis.

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We learn that the colony is situated ten miles from the sea (4.704b4-6), with a good harbor (704b9-10), but with no other states on its inland borders (704c6-9). Its land is fertile enough to be “all-producing,” yet sufficiently hilly that it won’t produce in overabundance, which would lead to exportation and regular interaction with merchants (704d3; 705b1-4). Although it has woods, its trees are not fit for shipbuilding, so it will happily not engage in seafaring, which invites trade and all manner of vice (705c3-7). The Athenian Stranger cautiously concludes that, all things considered, this site would not be incurably bad (aniatos) for the acquisition of virtue (704d6-7; 705b7-8). While the natural conditions of the site limit the need for trade and interaction with foreigners in terms of imports and exports, the city is still close to the sea and well-harbored. Legislating isolationist policy will be one means of mitigating the potential harm that an influx of wealth and foreign ideas might have on the state aspiring to self-sufficiency and virtue.35 There is another more subtle concern here, apart from the social and ethical consequences of wealth and poverty, namely, the environmental implications for the physical health and the character of men and their cities. In Book Five, the Athenian Stranger is more explicit, maintaining that some environments breed good men and others bad; the direction of winds, the amount of sunshine, the water supply, or the quality of soil can influence the health of the body 35

The status, rights, and determination of resident aliens are dealt with throughout the dialogue. For their access to the food supply, see 8.845a1-c4; for the terms of residence, which require a craft and limit residence to twenty years, see 8.850a1-c10; on the laws protecting foreigners and resident aliens, see 9.866b8-d1; on penalties for resident aliens breaking laws, see 9.880c3-d1; on being rewarded for protecting a citizen with first row theater seats, see 881b5-c1; and on the rules governing their treatment of one another, see 12.949b7-c1. Cf. the rights and lives of metics in Athens in Whitehead (1977) 129-135. Visits by foreigners are restricted to those of a certain age and public purpose, and the Athenian Stranger describes four categories of visiting stranger (12.952d6-953e4). Magnesians are allowed to travel outside the state in circumscribed instances: they must be at least forty years of age and can travel only in a public capacity (12.950d5-951c5); especially elected inspectors must be over fifty years of age but under sixty and must report their findings regarding other constitutions to the Nocturnal Council; even with such trusted and experience citizens, however, the danger of being corrupted by foreign ideas remains a threat, and so provisions are made for such an eventuality (12.9527-d5; 952b5-c5).

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and similarly affect the soul (5.747d6-e3). The correlation between the physical and psychic is not limited to the body’s movement, but also includes environment factors. The causal connection between place and the people born into it is not original to Plato, who here draws on an established tradition that links health, disease, and character to environmental factors, a tradition most notably represented by the fourth-century Hippocratic treatise Airs, Waters, Places.36 This manual for traveling practitioners details how varied natural conditions of topography and climate can affect and effect the health, temperament, and intelligence of a people. Furthermore, if the conditions for Magnesia may not be perfect, they can be mitigated to some extent by the technological arts. In Book Four the Athenian Stranger tells his interlocutors that god, along with chance (tychē) and due measure (kairos), controls all human affairs; however, when humans understand due measure, they can bring the technical arts (technai) to bear on natural aspects of their world that are otherwise beyond their control (4.709b8-c2). For example, choral activity constitutes a technē that may reduce or even obviate the harmful effects of unfavorable natural conditions. We recall that in Ephorus the harsh terrain and climate of Arcadia renders its inhabitants naturally brutal, except that their practice of the choral arts in all religious activity tempers this natural assimilative process and renders the Arcadians among the most pious and civilized. The sole exception is the infamously brutal tribe of the Cynaethians, the only Arcadians to forsake the practice of choreia.37 We must now add to the numerous

36

Lloyd (1978) 148-169. See also Miller (1962) 129-140, who identifies Alcmaeon of Croton and Democritus of Abdera as proponents of this tradition. On the continued impact of Airs, Waters, Spaces on medical and environmental thought, see Buttimer (2000) 211-216; Wear (2008) 443-465. 37

Polybius 4.20.1-21

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physical, psychological, and political benefits of choral activity its civilizing capacity as it mitigates the effects of a harsh climate upon the soul. Accounting for the impact of environmental factors upon body and soul, Plato purposefully selects for this fictional future colony the moderate topographical feature of hills (4.704d1-4). We might reasonably infer that since the terrain of the new colony is neither flat nor mountainous, it is as uniform and regular as possible, so that there should be no extreme variations in climate or in the temperament of the colonists. This, in addition to the geographic and political isolation of Magnesia, would seem to render the new colony’s location, climate, and topography as conducive to the acquisition of virtue as possible. However, the Lawgiver must leave nothing to chance; although the natural conditions of Magnesia are favorable to virtue, they are not in themselves sufficient for perfecting virtue. The perfection of both virtue and vice requires experience of city or town life (asty), for a city requires and perfects the arts of civilization and community, of governing and educating.38 Plato has his interlocutors proceed with great care and painstaking detail then as they contemplate the state’s design (in both city and country), so that it is not merely conducive to the acquisition of virtue but further promotes its practice and perfection. Architect Michael Chyutin’s discussion of utopian city planning offers us a broad perspective from which to approach the state design that Plato effects to achieve this end: The yearning for a utopian state is interwoven with the experience of constructing ideal settlements. Prophets, philosophers and 38

In Book Three, the interlocutors are contemplating the nature and disposition of the postdiluvian and pre-political peoples who have forgotten all the arts of civilization (including statecraft) and so live in a natural state of goodness and in harmony with one another. This sense of philia, however, cannot be perfected without the “ways of the city,” that is the arts of civilization that include government and education. At 3.678b1-4 the Athenian Stranger asks: “Do we then imagine, kind Sir, that the people then, many of them noble and many the opposite, inexperienced in the ways of the city were perfect in virtue or in vice?” Ἆρ” οἰόμεθα, ὦ θαυμάσιε, τοὺς τότε, ἀπείρους ὄντας πολλῶν μὲν καλῶν τῶν κατὰ τὰ ἄστη, πολλῶν δὲ καὶ τῶν ἐναντίων, τελέους πρὸς ἀρετὴν ἢ πρὸς κακίαν γεγονέναι;

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statesmen have created visions of utopian societies and attempted to describe their metaphysical forms. Artists and architects have envisaged ideal cities and attempted to describe their physical layout. Just as the utopian social thinker seeks a world combining clear and unmarred social order and balance, so the ideal-oriented architect seeks to find the ideal geometric order capable of expressing perfection and balance. The traditional design of an ideal settlement for a utopian society entails two categories that serve different purposes: the aesthetic ideal and the social utopia. The aesthetic ideal accepts the existing or proposed social order and aspires to strengthen and signify it through an orderly visual design of the physical environs. The social utopia strives to create a new social order while simultaneously designing the physical environs in the spirit of the social ideology so that the environmental design may serve and fortify the survivability of the social idea.39 As Chyutin further observes, geometric shapes are favored in utopian city design as the most visible, intelligible expressions of perfection, and they also tend to mirror the shape in which a given culture imagines its universe, which is quite often circular or spherical.40 We recall the circular vision of the world as imagined on the Shield of Achilles (Iliad 18.478-608) and the circular movement of the gods as they look upon justice, temperance, and knowledge in the Phaedrus (245c-249d). In the Timaeus the sphere is the best possible shape for the universe because it can contain all other possible shapes (33ab), and the motion proper to it is circular (34a). In Book Ten of the Laws Plato remains insistent on the ordered, circular movement of the universe, as well as of the soul when working with intellect (4.715e7-716b10; 7.822a7; 10.893c8-d4; 897b9-c10; esp. 898a5; 12.964e4) and, as we have just seen, the care of the soul

39

Chyutin (2007) 2.

40

Ibid., 4-8; 9-18. Chyutin cites Greek, Babylonian, Hebrew, and Indian, as well as Buddhist and Hindi, traditions in which the universe is imagined as circular or spherical, and Egyptian and near-eastern cities, in which the cube or square is the dominant form. All are examples of cosmological design, in which the shape and movement of the universe are approximated by city design. On cosmological city design as the first normative theory of city design, see Lynch (1981) 75-81.

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involves movement in concentric circles.41 Indeed, Magnesia constitutes Plato’s attempt to construct a social utopia whose physical and visual arrangement imitates, reflects and expresses the orderly movement of the universe, and this arrangement is decidedly, if not perfectly, circular. However, before proceeding to Magnesia’s design, it will be helpful to look at the designs of two other cities in the Platonic corpus, Atlantis and ancient Athens of the Critias. As the tale of these two cities testifies, perfect circularity in city design no more ensures orderly movement and virtue than the lack of symmetric circular design precludes them. Atlantis is laid out as a circular city, with divisions consisting of concentric circles. The symmetric and concentric circles of Atlantis are precisely measured, yet they are artificially imposed on the natural terrain and incongruous with it; further, when combined with countless rectilinear divisions, these circles, rather than promoting philia, encourage divisiveness, disorder, and confusion, all of which is amplified by inordinately large and ornate architecture (115e-117e).42 Abundant natural resources have led to excessive expressions of wealth that are not mediated by the city’s design, but rather magnified by it. Conversely, the ancient city of Athens does not have a symmetrically circular design but its citizens are superior in virtue to Atlanteans. Its natural conditions are perfect for the acquisition of virtue (109c9-d2; 110d-111e): the ancient city has developed around the slopes of an acropolis shaped in ancient times by its natural borders (although they deteriorated over the intervening nine millennia) - the Pnyx on the west, Lycabettos on the east, the Eridanus on the north, and the Ilissus on the south (112a-b7),

41

Cf. also Timaeus 34a1-3: the circular motion proper to the universe is also the motion of nous and phronesis.

42

Like the aureate temple of Poseidon. See Golding (1975) 360, who observes the artificiality of the concentric circles in Atlantis, and the incongruity with the natural terrain.

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landmarks all equidistant from the center.43 The state itself possesses order and measure; the number of citizens is fixed at 20,000, and since there is no gold, there is neither poverty nor wealth (112c-d). Known for their justice in ruling themselves and others, the Athenians are distinguished for their moral excellence and physical beauty (112e).44 Brumbaugh suggests that the difference between these two cities’ designs is at heart a mathematical one. Poseidon, he argues, proves mathematically incompetent in selecting the number five around which to order the city; this number is extremely difficult to manipulate and, as an organizing principle, results in excessively large structures, as well as countless small parts. The Atlantean rulers have inherited their founder’s mathematical ignorance, and so are incapable of moderating the overwrought city design that distorts the topography.45 If we can suppose that at the time of writing the Critias, Plato subscribed to the theory of the causal relationship between environmental factors and character, Atlantean city design not only expresses the excessive character of its inhabitants; it also shapes it. Conversely, the design of ancient Athens, because it is in accord with its topography and uses simplicity of number in its organization and movement, influences the virtuous character of its inhabitants. 46 In short, design matters, and the cities of the Critias point to several principles of city design that are articulated more exactly in the Laws.

43

Brumbaugh (1954) 56-57.

44

Cf. Aelius Arisides’ Panathenaikos 16, for a geographic ekphrasis in which Athens is the center of Attica, Attica the center of Greece, and Greece the center of the earth. 45

Brumbaugh (1954) 47-51.

46

Ibid., 48-51. Indeed, Brumbaugh observes that Atlantis’ design and architecture reflect the rulers’ fundamental confusion in both mathematics and philosophy and that Plato purposefully creates the history of a bad state by organizing it around the number five, when in all other instances in the Platonic corpus, a number is selected precisely for its “ease of manipulation or religious propriety.”

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First, just as natural conditions can shape the character of a people, so can a city’s design, and Plato appreciated the philosophical role of city-planning.47 Second, while a city’s design might mitigate some of the less salutary topographical features, it should do so harmoniously, that is, it should be as congruous with the topography as possible. Last, founding, designing and legislating a city is a mathematical endeavor, so that the number around which one organizes the city is of paramount importance. This is stated emphatically by the Athenian Stranger, who insists that the legislator-city planner must fully understand the utility of number for all aspects of civilized life (5.737e1-738a2; 738b3-c3; 757b6-c8), for, as Pradeau so aptly observes, “to legislate is to count.”48 For example, since distribution of property is typically at the heart of internal strife in any city, founding a colony provides the legislator with the opportunity to establish equitable distribution on a basis that renders property secure from dispute and reduces one major source of stasis or internal strife (5.736c5-737d9). Equitable distribution requires the legislator first to fix the number of citizens, which will allow him to organize and divide that number into sections for planning and administering the city (737c1-d9). In the Laws the number selected as the organizing principle of the state is 5040, the fixed number of households and the number according to which the state of Magnesia will be fashioned and ordered.49 Brumbaugh maintains that one of the most significant mathematical achievements of the Laws is the organization of the entire state, its land, populace, and

47

On ancient city planning as a philosophical vehicle, see Gorman (1995) 385-395. Gorman supports a reading of the Politics in which Hippodamas is not the author of city planning per se, but rather a pioneer of philosophically based city planning, in which a city”s organization and structure is designed to influence inhabitants. 48

Pradeau (2002) 159.

49

5.737e2; 738a4; 740e4; 741b1; 746d7; 6.756b7; 771a7-8; 771c1-7. Cf. the fixed number of citizens in Callipolis (Republic 5.460a) and the fixed number of souls in the universe of Timaeus 42a. The number 5,040 is also the product of 1-2-3-4-5-6-7, a Pythagorean formula.

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administration around this number, not least of all because the very process of identifying this number had to have been particularly laborious; it is known as a highly composite number, that is, a number with more divisors than any number smaller than it (sixty).50 Both Plato and the Athenian Stranger have plainly given this versatile number some thought, although the Athenian Stranger is seen to come upon this number rather easily. After proposing a fixed number of citizens, he then suggests two preliminary considerations: first, the area of territory should be only as great as is necessary for the state to support itself and next, its population only great enough to defend itself or to help a neighbor (5.737–c7-d5). He then suggests 5040 as particularly suitable, since it has the most numerous and consecutive divisors: fifty-nine divisors all told, including the natural numbers from one through twelve, excepting only eleven (738a2-4; b1-2).51 This number then will support every kind of division necessary for purposes of peace and war (5.738a5-6), facilitating every state operation, from the organization and deployment of troops and supply lines, the standardization of coinage, weights and measures, the distribution and contribution of food and services, to the penal system and the surveying and allotment of urban and rural districts, as well as the distribution of property classes, magistracies, priesthoods, and planning of sacrifices, feasts, festivals, and competitions (5.737e1-738b2; 5.745b3-746b1; 745b6-c4; 740a3-b1; 6.771a5-d9). Indeed, the Athenian Stranger, who speaks uninterrupted from the beginning of Book Five until the very end, when Cleinias agrees to all the Athenian has proposed (747e8-10), fashions the entire administration and aspect of Magnesia around this number and its divisors, and he begins with the city’s general design.

50

Brumbaugh (1954) 60-62.

51

Plato may be excluding either the number 1 or 5040 itself, since it has sixty divisors, including 1 and itself.

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He offers first a general plan of the state and its major parts, and I quote the text nearly in its entirety: Τὸ δὴ μετὰ τοῦτο πρῶτον μὲν τὴν πόλιν ἱδρῦσθαι δεῖ τῆς χώρας ὅτι μάλιστα ἐν μέσῳ, καὶ τἆλλα ὅσα πρόσφορα πόλει τῶν ὑπαρχόντων ἔχοντα τόπον ἐκλεξάμενον, ἃ νοῆσαί τε καὶ εἰπεῖν οὐδὲν χαλεπόν· μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα μέρη δώδεκα διελέσθαι, θέμενον Ἑστίας πρῶτον καὶ Διὸς καὶ Ἀθηνᾶς ἱερόν, ἀκρόπολιν ὀνομάζοντα, κύκλον περιβάλλοντα, ἀφ’οὗ τὰ δώδεκα μέρη τέμνειν τήν τε πόλιν αὐτὴν καὶ πᾶσαν τὴν χώραν. ἴσα δὲ δεῖ γίγνεσθαι τὰ δώδεκα μέρη τῷ τὰ μὲν ἀγαθῆς γῆς εἶναι σμικρά, τὰ δὲ χείρονος μείζω. κλήρους δὲ διελεῖν τετταράκοντα καὶ πεντακισχιλίους, τούτων τε αὖ δίχα τεμεῖν ἕκαστον καὶ συγκληρῶσαι δύο τμήματα, τοῦ τε ἐγγὺς καὶ τοῦ πόρρω μετέχοντα ἑκάτερον· τὸ πρὸς τῇ πόλει μέρος τῷ πρὸς τοῖς ἐσχάτοις εἷς κλῆρος, καὶ τὸ δεύτερον ἀπὸ πόλεως τῷ ἀπ’ ἐσχάτων δευτέρῳ, καὶ τἆλλα οὕτως πάντα. . . νείμασθαι δὲ δὴ καὶ τοὺς ἄνδρας δώδεκα μέρη, τὴν τῆς ἄλλης οὐσίας εἰς ἴσα ὅτι μάλιστα τὰ δώδεκα μέρη συνταξάμενον, ἀπογραφῆς πάντων γενομένης· καὶ δὴ καὶ μετὰ τοῦτο δώδεκα θεοῖς δώδεκα κλήρους θέντας, ἐπονομάσαι καὶ καθιερῶσαι τὸ λαχὸν μέρος ἑκάστῳ τῷ θεῷ, καὶ φυλὴν αὐτὴν ἐπονομάσαι. τέμνειν δ’ αὖ καὶ τὰ δώδεκα τῆς πόλεως τμήματα τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον ὅνπερ καὶ τὴν ἄλλην χώραν διένεμον· καὶ δύο νέμεσθαι ἕκαστον οἰκήσεις, τήν τε ἐγγὺς τοῦ μέσου καὶ τὴν τῶν ἐσχάτων. καὶ τὴν μὲν κατοίκισιν οὕτω τέλος ἔχειν. After this, he [the Lawgiver] should have his city placed as close to the center of the country as possible, choosing a location which has qualities advantageous to a city and which is easy to see and identify. After this, he must distinguish twelve portions, after first setting apart a sacred ground for Hestia, Zeus, and Athena, calling it the acropolis, and putting a wall around it, from there he should divide the city and the whole country into the twelve portions. And the twelve portions must be made equal by making those of good land small and those of worse land bigger. He must mark off 5,040 allotments, and cut each of these into two and connect the two parts, so each allotment has a part near and a part far, the piece next to the city joined with the piece furthest, the second nearest with the second furthest, and so forth. . . and he must also divide the citizens into twelve parts, making all twelve parts as equal as possible as regards the value of their property, once a census has been conducted. And after this, he must establish twelve allotments for the twelve gods, naming and consecrating the allotted portion to each god, and calling it a tribe. And he must organize the twelve sections of the city in the same manner as he divided the 193

rest of the country. And each citizen must take as his share two dwellings, one near the center of the country and the other near the outskirts. And he should finalize the settlement thus (5.745b3-e6). Regarding the general arrangement of Magnesian state design, the Athenian Stranger first insists that the city (polis) be placed as centrally as possible in the territory (tēs chōras malista en mesōi, 745b4).52 This should be situated on high ground, so it is easily identified as the figurative center of the state. Yet it is designed to be the literal the center of the state, as well, insofar as is possible, and this centrality is visually enhanced by circular design, with lines emanating from center to periphery. On this high ground the Lawgiver should establish first the acropolis, home to three temples dedicated to Zeus, Hestia and Athena.53 The circularity of the site is conveyed in the descripion of the ringed wall around the acropolis (kuklon periballonta). Moving outward from the acropolis we will find the agora, around which (peri tēn agoran) the Lawgiver will erect temples to the twelve gods (6.778c5-6); he will also erect temples to the twelve in a larger circle (en kuklōi) around the whole city (holēn polin) and on high ground (778c6-8). As the interlocutors begin to fill in the details of the state, moving from urban center to countryside, we 52

When the Athenian Stranger begins to differentiate between the urban and rural parts of the state, he will use asty (urban district), as distinguished from chōra (countryside), and he will also distinguish between asty as the urban district and polis as the state or administrative entity. However, in the nascent stages of the plan, he seems to employ polis to refer to the urban district. Cf., asty as urban center and chōra or agros as countryside (5.746c6; 6.763c7; 779c2; 7.804c4; 8.844c5-7; 849a1-2; 9.881c5; d4; 11.913d5-914a3; 12.954d7; 954c6; city-stewards’ duties are in the urban center: 5.763c5; 764c2; 8.847a4; b5; 879e1; 11.913d5; 918a4), as well as between asty as urban center and polis as state (2.667a1; 8.848e4-8; 11.936c4). The distinction between urban center and countryside will become important for state design, but also for establishing an urban and rural connection for every citizen. 53

England (1921) vol 1, 535-536 suggests we read hieron as temenos, a sacred precinct housing three temples, as opposed to Jowett’s suggestion that one temple houses all three deities. I agree with England that this central section is independent of the twelve divisions that will emanate from it (aph’ou). Mika Kajava, “Hestia: Hearth, Goddess and Cult,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 102 (2004) 1-20, esp. 3-5, observes Hestia’s strong connection with political power. Her home was typically in the prytaneum or bouleuterium, and her priesthood seems to have been somewhat secular. In this regard, centrally located temples to her in Magnesia, i.e., on the acropolis and in every village center (8.848d6-9; 11.856a2), constitute a significant reconfiguration of customary Greek cult activity for Hestia. As observed in Ch. 4., p 157 n.74, the image of Hestia at the center of a moving city is found also in the Phaedrus, where the gods’ chorus dances around Hestia, who remains at home (247a1-2; 247d4-5).

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learn that the urban part of the state is separated from the rural not by another ringed wall, but rather by citizens’ urban dwellings, which will be of uniform shape and character and will form a single wall facing the roads that extend into the countryside (6.779a10-b7). This would be functional for purposes of security and defense, but would also be aesthetically pleasing, since the citizens’ homes would form a single wall as though a single house (779a9-b7). One sees why, for the purposes of philia and unity, this is an appealing aspect of the city plan. The shape of the domicile-wall is not described further, except to say that the houses face the road. It may, on the model of the circular walls around the acropolis and agora, be circular in shape, which would be the most sensible shape for a wall intended for security. In each of the twelve rural districts is a village that mirrors the circular urban center’s organization with temples to Zeus, Hestia and Athena at their centers (en kuklōi), surrounded by buildings (8.848d6-e5).54 Along with citizens, the craftsmen who are useful to farmers will reside in the villages (848e6-8), although the rural dwellings are not described.55 It is not clear that Plato intends the villages to mirror urban organization in every way, but it would not be unreasonable to suggest that the citizens’ rural homes might also be contiguous structures forming a wall around the villages. Citizens dwellings, the Athenian Stranger tells us, their will be placed at the center and around the circumference (5.746a8-b1: en mesōi tinas te kai en kuklōi oikēseis). Patrolling the borders of the state are 720 select young men, sixty young men from each of the twelve tribal districts. Each group of sixty lives and works in a district for a month,

54

The metic craftsmen will be settled in these villages; cf. Vidal-Naquet (1986) 224-245.

55

Ibid., 237-240 suggests that the craftsmen are separated from the citizens, but it does not make sense that Magnesians’ rural dwellings would be outside the villages. Children from the ages of three to six attend play-groups at the village temples (7.794a3-6).

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rotating to the right each month for a year (en kuklōi), and then returning via a counter-clockwise rotation for the following year (6.760b3-761d4). Contributing to the image of circularity is the centrality of the acropolis and the division of the state from that center outward. From the acropolis (aph’ou), the Lawgiver will divide the whole land into twelve portions (merē), each of which will be dedicated to one of the twelve gods as a phylē, or tribal unit (5.745d8-e1; 6.771d1-5;); each division will have an urban section and a rural section, and each of the 5,040 households will have two holdings, one urban and one rural (745e3-6).56 The property is non-transferable, so each family will maintain both rural and urban ties, moving regularly from countryside to city and back again for religious, personal, and official purposes. They will travel using the public roads that run from the country into the urban center (6.763c7-9), in what several commentators envision as radial highways, although it is not entirely clear that those are the only roads Plato intends.57 There is a tripartite organization for state gymnasia and the equestrian and military practice fields, quartering the districts and tribes’ use of these, so that four tribes would be assigned to each gymnasium and training field, for example, and each month one of these fields would host the military games for the whole state (804c2-7). One might conjecture a rotational model similar to the 720 guardsmen’s two-year duty around the state’s borders. What emerges from this basic plan is a state that favors circular and central design insofar as is possible and in which regulated highways extend directly from a central acropolis straight

56

Cf. 6.771d1-5 and 5.746d8, where the Athenian Stranger mentions the organization of not only tribes, but phratries and demes, as well. That is not worked out in detail, however. 57

Brumbaugh (1954) 52-55 compares the radial highways with the canals in Atlantis. England (1921) vol. 1, 536 assumes radial highways from the method of dividing the state from the acropolis (aph’ou) outward. Golding (1975) 365 suggests that Plato likely intends streets on a grid pattern, in keeping with ancient town planning practices. City streets are also mentioned at 6.763c7-9;

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outward to the state’s borders, which are also as circular as possible. Numerous commentators have suggested just such a design for Magnesia’s state, with several offering diagrams which present the city layout in concentric circles around the central acropolis, from which emanate twelve lines that represent the district borders, and possibly the radial highways.58 The districts, though represented in the diagrams as equal “pie slices,” would in fact differ in area, since they would be proportionally planned; the area of the districts on the most fertile land would be reduced, while the area of the districts situated less favorably would be increased (745d1-4). Trevor J. Saunders found the notion of circular design indulgent and impractical: whereas Atlantis is “imaginative fiction,” he argued, “the Laws depicts a practical design,” and includes only what Plato believes is attainable.59 The Athenian Stranger himself responds to this objection: their plan for the city’s organization is not likely to meet with such favorable conditions as to be attainable. Such conditions would notably include the topography, as well as the complete agreement of the colonists to live in and as a community that is profoundly reconfigured in terms of property, gender, politics, and even domiciles.60 However, the Lawgiver, like one working with wax, must

58

Pradeau (2002) 157-159 also assumes circularity of city design and movement. See also Wycherley (1937) 26-27, who reproduces a similar diagram on the basis of Meton’s lecture in Birds 995-1009. Several diagrams have been produced. Brumbaugh (1954) 58, provides a circular diagram of Magnesia, with radial highways and the city as the very center of this symmetrical design. Piérart (1974), 15ff, especially 22 offers his own circular and symmetrical diagram of the city, including radial axes and concentric circles. Golding (1975), esp. 365-369 offers a city of symmetrical circular design, but possibly enclosed in a rectangular wall. Also, Vidal-Naquet (1986) 224-248, situates the craftsmen in circular villages in the rural districts of the state. 59

Saunders (1976) 23-26 adds, rather unconvincingly, that other shapes besides circles have centers and that the word kuklos is not an exact expression. See also Saunders (1976) 239-242, esp. 239 where he famously refers to the Laws as a blueprint. He attributes the major thrust of philosophical thinking to the Republic, and the practical matters to the Laws. 60

This kind of homonoia or unanimity, particularly among colonists of mixed origins, might be attained more easily since they would be more open to unfamiliar laws, but only a Lawgiver who excels all others in excellence might achieve this kind of unity (4.708d1-7).

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still aspire to the model of perfection and omit nothing of the most true or beautiful things (5.745e7-746b10). Only when he has been allowed to finish his description of the best possible city, should practical distinctions be made between what is realizable and what is not (746b10d1). Circular perfection is an attribute of the universe; its ends are equidistance from the center and it is perfectly smooth and can contain all other shapes (Timaeus 33a1-b3). The circle is later described by Aristotle as of all lines “the most truly one, because it is a perfect whole” (Metaphysics D.1016b). Perfectly circular city design may not be attainable, yet the Lawgiver should aspire precisely to such perfection, keeping to the cosmic model as closely as he can.61 Ancient cities, when planned at all, were typically designed orthogonally, on a grid, their outer boundaries dictated by topography; radial design was not common practice in Greece or elsewhere.62 Rather, R. E. Wycherley suggests that radial design was intended for spectacular effect, citing the rare theatre-like city plan of Rhodes as an expression of the city’s penchant for grand display.63 It is reasonable to presume that Plato was familiar with contemporary planning, its practices and practitioners, yet most commentators who suggest that Magnesia is of circular design do not explore why Plato chooses such a plan.64 Brumbaugh alone offers a practical

61

One is reminded of the end of Book Nine of the Republic, where Socrates suggests that there is a pattern of a city laid up in heaven, upon which one might model the city within oneself (592a-b). This is the sole mention of a city’s pattern in that dialogue. 62

See Castagnoli (1971) 2-7 who offers a helpful synopsis of the debate regarding the origins of orthogonal city planning. See also Wycherley (1962 ) and (1937) 28, where he describes town planning in Greece and the rest of the ancient Mediterranean world as a “chessboard” arrangement. 63

Wycherley (1937) 28-29 and (1962) 16-24, where he suggests that Greek town planning primarily worked with the topography and needs at hand and that Rhodes’ topography was especially suited to its semi-circular theatre desing. See also Golding (1975) 363, 368. 64

England (1921) vol. 1 536 does not question the circularity of the design; Morrow (1960) does not address it at all. Giuliano (1966) 106-109 suggests that Plato’s plan for Magnesia is agricultural in its design and observes some similarities between it and some older Cretan cities in the semi-circular formation of the houses and their double use as a fortification wall. Golding (1975) 369 alone, of those whose readings favor circular and symmetrical design,

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explanation, maintaining that the urban ‘center of symmetry’ in Magnesia provides the most effective means for administration. He also suggests that circularity is not as essential as centrality, inasmuch as Atlantis’ circularity lacks Magnesia’s centrality.65 Circularity alone will not ensure an orderly or virtuous state; centrality, however, imposes order on circular motion, and the circular design of Magnesia can only be understood in terms of the motion that it encourages. The Athenian Stranger begins the organization of the state around its figurative and administrative center, moving outward from and around its fixed center. Plato frames and plans Magnesia as the physical embodiment of orderly movement around a fixed center: all physical movement in Magnesia consists of continuous, measured revolution around the acropolis. The circular design of Magnesia is intended to engage orderly, regular, and constant circular movement on the model of the universe and of nous.66 We recall that the first of the ten motions, rotary movement around a fixed point, is the movement of the heavens, driven by soul and embodied by nous (7.818c7; 10.897c4-d1; 898a3-7; 898c4-d8). 67 The rotary motion common to nous and psychē and the heavens is found earlier, in the concentric circles of the Timaeus (36c39e), as well as in Socrates’ description in the Phaedrus of the circular motion of the soul as it flies through the twelve zones of heaven, nourished by nous and capable of seeing Justice, SelfControl, and Pure Knowledge (246a1-247e5). We are also reminded of the spherical shape of the

acknowledges the impracticality of the design, but also believes Plato was aware of the impossibility of designing a city in this way. However, she then admits that Plato’s intentions elude her. 65

Brumbaugh (1954) 51; 57.

66

See above, p 164-165; cf. also 897c5-10; 898c4-d8; 898b3-10.

67

England (1921) v. 2, 464; Skemp (1942) 100-101; Mayhew (2008) 107-108.

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universe – as well as of its movement - as particularly appropriate to holding all things of all shapes (Timaeus 33ab). Plato fashions Magnesia as an image of the universe.68 Yet another image presents itself in the city’s circular design, that of the χορός – the dancing space, or orchestra, with the altar at the center, a space that permits dances in various formats. Even when citizens are not engaging in choral activity (singing and dancing), all movement in Magnesia is in fact choreographed, so that all movement is choral movement (measured and intentional), and it is pervasive. Most citizens will not be inclined to contemplate the circular motions of the stars or their own souls, yet every citizen will have some connection to or association with the dancing space. It is in the collective consciousness of the Greeks of Plato’s time, and Plato taps into this image in his city design. In his seminal The Image of the City, Kevin Lynch introduces the term “imageability” to describe the combined force of environment and structure to impact identity, so that every inhabitant has a clear mental image of his city and a clear sense of his place in it. Lynch defines imageability as as physical qualities, “that shape, color, or arrangement which facilitates the making of vividly identified, powerfully structured, highly useful mental images of the environment.”69 An imageable city is a legible city, one that is “well-formed, distinct, remarkable, inviting the eye and ear to greater attention and participation,” and this can be achieved by the use of symbols, by educating the perceiver to read those symbols, and even by reshaping the landscape and surroundings.”70 A city’s environmental image consists in identify, structure, and meaning, yet Lynch, because his focus is three modern cities, omits the element of meaning from his

68

Pradeau (2002) 157-159.

69

Lynch (1960) 9: Lynch applies his theory of imageability to studies of Los Angeles, Boston, and Jersey City.

70

Lynch (1960) 10-11.

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study, because potential meangings of a modern city to its many individual inhabitants are countless, and it would impossible to map or describe them.71 For Plato’s city in the Laws, however, this is not the case. Magnesia’s design is intended, to convey a single, unified meaning, and its inhabitants are intended to identify with and assimilate that one meaning. The circular and central design is the primary symbolic device Plato uses to provide the citizen (Lynch calls him the “viewer”) “with a symbolic diagram of how his world fits together . . . as long as he can fit reality to the diagram, he has a clue to the relatedness of things.”72 One of the most powerful elements of city design is the pathway, along which the citizens move and observe their city. Magnesian citizens continuously move along pathways that either move them directly from center to periphery, or in concentric circles around the landmark of the acropolis. 73 Magnesia is a deeply legible city for its inhabitants. Moreover, if, as Kowalzig suggests, the Laws is preoccupied with chorality, I suggest it is owing to a deeper preoccupation with the circular movement of the divine and nous that extends to choral and city formation, both literally and metaphorically.74 The city design has as its model the movement of the divine, it is also intended to instill further cyclic movement, through assimilation, in the citizenry and thereby achieve the specific intellectual and psychological effects of internal circular order.

71

Ibid.

72

Ibid.

73

Ibid., 46-52. The other elements are edges or boundaries; districts, which are identifiable from inside and out; nodes, which are strategic spots, like junctions; and landmarks, which are highly symbolic and easily identifiable. 74

Kowalzig (2004) 54.

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Conclusion: The City as Chorus Early in the Timaeus the world is understood as only the likeness of what is eternal, raising the question of how best to describe in words – themselves only likenesses – the eternal and changeless (28b-29e). The problem is that if one is describing only what is visible, which in itself is only an image of the eternal, then one’s description is only ever going to be likely. The Laws presents its city as a likeness of the universe, but this likeness is not embedded in words; it is expressed and enacted in choral movement. Plato describes the movement of the universe as a choral performance (choreia) in Timaeus (40c3) and Epinomis (982e3-6), the stars as gods (Republic 508a4; Laws 7.821a1-b2; 11.931a1-3).75 The chorus of the gods as the model for human choral activity was well established by Plato’s time, but Plato characteristically shifts the paradigm. He collapses the semantic fields of god, universe, soul, movement, dance and politics into one. The result is that Magnesia in its expression of the universe’s constant, circular motion, is also an expression of god’s movement, of choral movement, of peace, and of individual and civic excellence. Being godlike is being the perfect citizen, and Plato here offers the normative ideal.76 Desire, when it is godlike (theios), is directed toward just and temperate institutions (4.711d7-0), and a man is godlike when he has been properly educated (766a3-4), and paideia’s aim, as we have seen, is to encourage a desire in the individual to become the perfect citizen (1.643d1-5). The movements of the citizens are orchestrated by a city planned in concentric circles, and this informs the movement of each citizen, from the they give to themselves, to the gods, and 75

On the cosmic dance, see Sophocles Antigone 1146-48; Euripides Ion 1078-81; Electra 468; Lucian 7.

76

Armstrong (1998) 119.

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to all those around them. All movement in Magnesia, whether psychic, intellectual, civic, or physical, is designed to enact measure, circularity, and regularity within each citizen and within the state entirely. While the theme of becoming as much like god as is possible is evident in earlier dialogues, it is developed fully in the Laws in specific and practical terms of movement. Moreover, it is in the mimetic and kinetic mechanism between body and soul that we find the model for the link between the choreographed movement of the city and the aim of godlikeness in the state and individual. Indeed, this entire framework implicitly informs the dialogue’s mimetic choices; the Laws’ concern with mimesis extends beyond the ethical valence of the mimetic arts (though this is where scholarly attention has typically been focused) to the psychic and physical activities that engage the movements conducive to assimilating the circular movements of the divine. This also suggests that the implicit and ultimate aim of the nomothetēs, in its various articulations of peace, justice, harmony, measure, virtue and happiness, is godlikeness. His aim is the symphonic movement of the soul and body of each citizen, and all citizens in chorus. Being as godlike as possible is not a state of being. “As much as possible” implies not attainment, but endeavor, continuous activity and motion. Choreia, along with the care of the soul and city design, engages citizens in movement that is orderly, regular, inclusive, and most significantly, formative. The city design contains and guides this formative movement. In Magnesia, the choreographed movement of the body and state, although initiated and guided by legislation and city planning, has as its purpose self-movement, that is, becoming its own ordered movement and so godlike. In the Timaeus, philosophy and higher education in music serve to “provide the soul with motion” (88c). The Republic’s educational focus is with the intellectual and moral training of its 203

Guardians, and theoretical mathematics is crucial to this endeavor.77 If very little of the Republic’s detailed and expansive mathematical curriculum is found in the Laws, we should not take that to mean that advanced theoretical mathematics is not practiced in Magnesia; it must be, in order for the Nocturnal Council to engage in dialectic.78 Plato is not interested to recreate this particular wheel. Rather, he seems more interested in fashioning a virtuous environment for the rest of the Magnesians. The Athenian Stranger, when describing the vigilant ruler as deterrent to enemies and object of respect among the virtuous (808c2-6), indicates a functional difference between ruler and citizen, and this difference is one of intellectual capacity. The ruler can think philosophically, or, as Burnyeat puts it, can “understand the world as it is objectively speaking.”79 Theoretical mathematics provides training for such thinking and knowledge, and allows one to achieve what Sedley calls “intellectual self-improvement,” that is, the ability to reestablish the circular movement of the intellect and soul on one’s own, should that circular motion be disrupted.80 Most, however, will not have this capacity, and the Laws’ concern is to create the conditions under which godlikeness is available to all, especially those for whom the intellectual path is not possible. Armstrong suggests that in one’s active attention to the city’s virtue, even the ordinary Magnesian can aspire to godlikeness, through choral performance and care of his own soul and state, although his ability to assimilate is ultimately limited by ignorance of higher 77

Burnyeat (2000) devotes his study to the mathematical education of the Guardians of Callipolis.

78

Morrow (1960) 506-508 suggests that the Nocturnal Council is the institution for the higher education of its members, although the promise to describe their curriculum goes unfulfilled. 79

Burnyeat (2000) 8, 22, passim.

80

Sedley (1997) 327-339, esp. 330. Sedley is speaking in the context of the Timaeus here, and in the sense that once one learns how to re-establish this circular motion himself, the effect is intellectual self-improvement. Also, see Carone (2005) esp. 68-76.

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mathematics and dialectic.81 That may be the case, and I suggest here that Plato attempts to widen the path to godlikeness by fashioning a world which functions in every way to promote the assimilation of mathematical structures even among those who will never be capable of theoretical mathematics or dialectic.82 He attempts this through the very same mechanism which informs his choral philosophy – movement as an assimilative, ethical force. Orderly movement, whether in a chorus or in the household, is an essentially mathematically driven phenomenon of measure and ratio. Plato orchestrates the mathematically ordered movement of the citizenry in a mathematically ordered space, in order to create the best conditions under which the average citizen might internalize the orderly structures inherent in all orderly motion, particularly those of the universe, and assimilate them. This, I suggest, accounts for the very limited mathematical curriculum in Magnesia – the content is intended to be studied by most at a very basic level and further internalized through daily activity that engages the body and the soul in mathematically ordered movement.83 This presumes that goodness is inherent in mathematic order. Burnyeat

81

Armstrong (2004) 179-181.

82

Burnyeat (2000) 69-72 suggests that in the Republic, the Guardians’ long and close study of mathematical structures leads to assimilation of those very structures and their orderly movement. 83

The general curriculum will cover as much arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music as is necessary for every citizen to participate effectively in the management of domestic and civic business in peace and war (7.809c4-d1; 817e6-818a1; 818a8-b6). Civic utility is the primary aim of the general curriculum, so that we should expect all Magnesians capable of manipulating numbers, shapes, and the calendar. Yet not all Magnesians are destined to be mathematicians. The Athenian Stranger is emphatic that detailed study is not for everyone; there are some who will be intellectually equipped to pursue advanced study, and the curriculum’s secondary aim is to reveal the intellectual elite (perhaps the only elite in Magnesia). Who those few are, the Athenian Stranger says (818a1-4), will be revealed at the end, in anticipation of the Nocturnal Council’s description in Book Twelve, the body that functions as the guiding intelligence, or nous, of the state (964e1-4). While the Athenian Stranger does not elaborate on the course of mathematical study the adept few will undertake, his description of the knowledge that the members of the Nocturnal Council must possess amounts to dialectic (963a1-965c4; 966a5-b9). If we may appeal to the Republic’s education of the Guardians, those who move on to dialectic do so only after ten years of theoretical mathematics, during which time they aim toward a synoptic view of all mathematics (537bd), just as the Nocturnal Council in the Laws is expected to have a synoptic view of all the virtues (963c7-d7).

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suggests that for Plato this is the case and that “goodness resides in abstract mathematical harmony and proportion,” and furthermore that these represent the same bonds of unity required for governing oneself and others.’84 This, he explains, accounts for Plato’s concern in the Republic with social and institutional harmony, as well as the harmony of the soul.85 This concern with harmony is prevalent also in the Laws. Peace (eirēnē, symphōnia, philia) is the stated aim of the lawgiver and the ideal circumstance for the state.86 As in the Republic, a cluster of terms for commonality, harmony and friendship pervades the text, but most prominent among these terms is philia, and it is in great part the cultivation and practice of philia within one’s soul and with others that sets the average citizen on a structured and orderly path to godlikeness.87 What Plato has constructed in the Laws are the conditions under which as many individuals as possible might assimilate the movement most closely associated with god, reason, and virtue, by means of a completely choral life in a world designed mathematically and specifically for continuous, rhythmic and deliberate activity – at every level of existence. This choral world, like the universe of Timaeus, is designed “to act, to be acted upon by itself, and within itself (Timaeus 33d),” self-sufficient and godlike. This suggests that virtue can be learned under very specific motional conditions, offering us a possible answer to Timaeus’ question:

84

Burnyeat (1987) 238-240.

85

Ibid.,citing Republic 422e-423d; 431e; 441e-442a; 462ab.

86

Peace as Lawgiver’s aim: 1.626a2-3; 628b6-8; c10, d8-10; 640b8 and the ideal circumstance for the state: 4.713e1; 5.738a6; 7.796d3; 8.829b2; 866a4; 12.955c1-3. 87

Symphōnia (2.653b6; 3.689d5-6); koinōnia (3.694b6; 4.708c3; 5.730e6); philia occurs most frequently (1.628b8; 640d1; 2.653b2; 693c3-e1; 3.694b6-695d1; 697d5; 698c3; 4.708c3; 5.730e6-731e4; 759b6; 8.823b6; 836e5; 840e1; 843a3; 9.862c3; 865a5; 876e6; 10.919e5). The first aim of the Lawgiver is to achieve internal peace, within the soul, the family, and the state (1.628a4-b5); internal peace among citizens is ensured by the abolition of extreme wealth or poverty (5.742e1-b3), and along with it, the dissolution of the customary sources of internal strife, axiōmata, distributions of honor (3.690a1-d1). External peace is safeguarded by the state”s isolationist (4.704d6-705c1) and diplomatic policies (12.952d4-953e4).

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How should one guide and be guided in order to live most according to reason (89d3)? Pradeau suggests that self-movement in the Laws is the mark of every citizen, in his or her understanding of measure, in the movements of the universe, the city, and oneself.88 We again appeal to Timaeus, who says that the best motion is “that motion which is brought about in oneself by oneself . . . for this is most akin to the motion of thought and the motion of the all” (89a). Pradeau seems to think that Plato succeeds in creating a city that is capable of self-moving, physically and intellectually: It comes as no surprise to find that in the Laws the city has become the active author of its own transformation, possessed of understanding (it has both a soul and an intellect), and also the creator of its own movement . . . Understanding and controlling itself, it achieves what Plato’s dialogues have required of individual human beings if they are to fulfill their natural potential. The city uses its intellect to understand the intelligible principle of the order of the world and uses this as the norm for its own behaviour: the city philosophizes. 89 If we accept the organic nature of the state of Magnesia, we begin to see in the symphonic movement of this city, the citizen body (in the literal sense) and its space as one chorus continually engaged in performance. The notion of the state as a living and thinking organism is not new to the Laws; we need only turn again to Timaeus, where the universe itself is considered a living entity, a zōon, possessing both psychē and nous (30b3-c1), soul and intellect. The same is true of Magnesia, where dancing space and dancers, state and citizens all become a single entity. Magnesia is a city in motion. Just as in the individual, the motion of the intellect engages and helps to order the motions of the soul, and so the body (10.896e8-897b4). In Magnesia the guiding force – or nous –for this state in motion is the Nocturnal Council 88

Pradeau (2002) 158-159.

89

Ibid., 159-161.

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(12.964e1-4).90 It is not unreasonable to press the choral metaphor here and characterize the Nocturnal Council as chorēgos. The mimetic nature of choreia makes it a fitting vehicle for the imitation of figures courageous in war and measured in peace; habitual choral imitation of figures enacting courage and measure promotes the assimilation of those virtues, but only passively. There is an active dimension, as well. Because singing and dancing in chorus requires the continued practice of measure and justice, it actively cultivates those two virtues the Athenian Stranger identifies with god and, by extension, the person engaged in godlike activity.91 As arithmetic, geometry, and astronomy are the building blocks of the universe, so they are of the state; they are the required tools for the Lawgiver, if he is to orchestrate the city in all its parts, toward a performance of itself, displaying internal and external peace, justice, courage, and moderation. In Chapter Three I strove to identify the mimetic configuration of the dances of peace, that is, the activities that would be imitated in the those dances. They would need to be dances that represented acts expressive of moderation. Since the text is not forthcoming, I offered a picture of what kinds of dances were most likely, given Plato’s affinity for traditional dance forms. At this point, however, we can return to the dances of peace and suggest precisely what the actions imitated in the emmeleia would be. I propose that they are intended to be the very actions in which the citizens daily and nightly engage: the continuous communion with the gods through sacrifice, song and dance, and the care of one’s soul expressed through the respect for one’s parents, firmness with children, fairness with friends, friendly competition with fellow 90

Pradeau (2002) 154-156 is correct to understand the Nocturnal Council literally as head and nous, in the extended metaphor of the state as zōon, or living organism. 91

I suggest that it only passively cultivates the virtues of courage and moderation through assimilation. On the functional relation of timing (kairos), measure (metrion) as active expressions of justice (dikē), see Slatkin (2004) 25-49.

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citizens, and deep regard for strangers. In short, the dances of peace would represent citizens moving with moderation in the care of their own souls, the gods, and their world.92 With this image in mind, we turn again to the Athenian Stranger’s enigmatic pronouncement to the tragedians petitioning for a stage and chorus in Magnesia: Ὦ ἄριστοι,” φάναι, “τῶν ξένων, ἡμεῖς ἐσμὲν τραγῳδίας αὐτοὶ ποιηταὶ κατὰ δύναμιν ὅτι καλλίστης ἅμα καὶ ἀρίστης· πᾶσα οὖν ἡμῖν ἡ πολιτεία συνέστηκε μίμησις τοῦ καλλίστου καὶ ἀρίστου βίου, ὃ δή φαμεν ἡμεῖς γε ὄντως εἶναι τραγῳδίαν τὴν ἀληθεστάτην. Most excellent strangers, we ourselves are, as best as we are able, the authors of tragedy most fair and noble; certainly our entire state has been organized as a performance of the fairest and noblest life, which we maintain is really the truest tragedy (7.817b1-6). Pradeau is surely correct to describe Magnesia’s construction and design as intentional reflections of the order of the universe.93 Like the universe of the Timaeus, it is intended to be sufficient unto itself (33d). Yet the prevailing image of this city is one of chorality, of dance. Choral movement is central to the city’s design and to Plato’s psychology, and it is the key to unlocking this passage. Magnesia is a continually performing chorus whose life is its own dramatic material. Plato creates a city that performs itself. Magnesia is his choral absolute, the truest tragedy.

92

This would present a significant departure from the myth-centered ritual of choral performance described by Kowalzig (2007) esp. 24-80, who argues persuasively for the centrality of myth to ritual activity, i.e., choral performance. She also indicates Plato’s appreciation of the role of narrative and theatrical experience in promoting shared belief in the gods (10.887c-e). Therein lies a tension between the function of narrative in religious activity and Plato’s intention to omit stories of the gods which represent them as cowardly, unjust, excessive, and unwise. For Kowalzig, even stories that are tangential may in fact be part of a nexus of one ritual act. Plato does seem aware of this tension, and plans to reconfigure myths, just as he does musical genres. The outstanding example in the Laws is the myth of Cronos (4.713a10-714b1), which the Athenian Stranger refashions to present Cronos not as a childeating tyrant, but as a good and kind god whose love and care for mankind become the model for government. 93

Pradeau (2002) 156-159.

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Conclusions If we imagine an aerial view of Magnesia, we would see something like the inner workings of a clock: regular, rhythmic movement of the citizenry in circles around the acropolis, the agora, and the state borders, circles mirrored in and around the villages; we would also see regular processional movement of the citizens along the twelve radial highways, from the center to periphery and back again. The image of Magnesia as a timepiece is particularly apt, since regular and constant circular motion is the defining characteristic of time (10.894b8-c8; 896a6b2). From a distance, this orchestration of clockwork-like movement is rather attractive in its orderliness and unchanging nature, as cosmologically designed cities are intended to be.1 If it is difficult for us to imagine the view from the ground, Lynch at least would describe Magnesia as eminently legible to its citizens.2 That is, they would have facility of movement, as well as a clear sense of where they are in relation to the rest of the city, a full and accurate mental picture of the city’s general and specific movements. Plato designed their city for just this purpose and, one might say, so that they would assimilate the continuous and orderly movement encouraged by their environment, as well as their laws and customs. If it is correct that singing and dancing for the gods is continuous, then at any given moment at one of the urban, suburban or rural temples, one might see a procession with the armed dance, a sacrifice, and choruses of children, youths, and adults singing, dancing, 1

Lynch (1981) 81.

2

Lynch (1960) 9-13.

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and feasting together. In short, during the day we would see nearly constant celebration, with citizens perhaps moving from celebration to the next. At night, the city would be no more asleep than during the day, with citizens moving throughout the city on state business and in their homes as they manage domestic affairs. The city and its parts would be engaged in a unified and continuous performance of orderly movement. Is this performance – or any performance in Magnesia – marked in the way that, for example, a theatrical performance would be, or a funeral speech, or the Athenian pyrrhichē? Has Plato’s theorizing about performance and genre extended this far to include a special discourse of performance or movement? Performance theorist Richard Schechner describes the marked nature of performance thus: By using masks, costumes, and physical actions arranged in a set way or improvised according to known rules; by performing following a script, scenario, or a set of rules; by performing in special places or places made special by performing in them; by performing on holidays or at times set aside ‘after work’ or at crisis in the life cycle such as initiations, weddings, and funerals: by all these means, and more, theatrical reality is marked ‘nonordinary – for special use only.’ Furthermore, what is performed is encoded – I want to say nested, trapped, contained, distilled, held, restrained, metaphorized – in one, or more, special kinds of communication.3 Performance exists within and even can create and transform special discourses. Moreover, it is not limited to the theatre, but encompasses events in which one engages in the behaviors or performs the actions prescribed specifically by or for that event. Schechner describes this as the enactment of “restored behaviors,” that is, real behaviors that exist separately from those who perform them and as such can be called up and “stored, transmitted, manipulated, transformed”

3

Schechner (1985) 117.

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as needed or desired.4 They can be real or imagined, with or without an original, and often symbolic, but they are always repeated behaviors, actions that people practice and perform and thereby restore. Performance, then, consists in the selection and organization of restored behaviors to effect a particular state or outcome, and this holds true in a variety of spheres: actions performed on a stage, in a public ceremony, in one’s family ceremonies, in the work place, in a restaurant, or in one’s personal routines. Yet what also holds true is that each of these spheres of performance – private, public, ceremonial, artistic – tends to be discrete in its restored behaviors, that is, each has its own specific repertoire and sequence of behaviors appropriate to itself; each has its own discourse that most often remains entirely discrete. 5 Schechner’s notion of “restored behaviors” resonates with Plato’s thoughts on habituation and the role of choreia in establishing and reestablishing the orderly movement of the body and soul. There are deep differences between Schechner’s model and Plato’s conceptualization of habituation as a means to achieving virtue. However, Schechner’s paradigm may help to illuminate Plato’s choral psychology in the Laws, which is functionally a behavioral psychology, inasmuch as it calls for repeatedly imitating and expressing (performing) desired behaviors with the ultimate goal of internalizing them. It should not surprise us that Schechner does not venture down that same ethical path of assimilation that Plato treads. Schechner’s interests lie with contemporary performance, not with perfectibility, and he does not live and move in a 4

Ibid.,36.

5

In fourth-century Athens, performance also existed within and helped to define a special discourse; there also existed similarly discrete spheres of performance – private, public, ceremonial, artistic, political, etc. The literature on the civic and democratic implications of performance abounds. For example, see the helpful discussions in Goldhill and Osborne (1999); on Panathenaic performances as highly marked by Athens’ military history, see Shapiro (1996) 215-225; on the tragic chorus, see the collection of essays in Arion 3.1 (1994-5); on gender, see Stehle (1997) and Calame (1997).

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performance culture. Plato, however, is actively pursuing the formula for perfecting man and state insofar as is possible. Moreover, even if he is operating, as Depew and Obbink maintain, within a text-based culture, he is trying to recapture and refashion, viz. the Magnesian state, traditional song-based culture.6 For Plato the performance of song and dance is the most powerful tool at his disposal in creating an ideal state, but performance is not limited to song and dance.7 It is here that Schechner’s model is especially useful. Plato seeks to create a fictional performance culture in which all citizens will practice and share and ultimately assimilate the same restored behaviors which are intended, as Kowalzig describes, “to propel a society into a shared belief.”8 To achieve this unity of behavior, Plato collapses the restored behaviors from the discrete spheres of the personal, political, ritual, military and artistic into a single repertoire of restored behaviors that will subtend every sphere of activity, i.e., performance. While the ritual, political, military and artistic spheres seem to lend themselves to such an operation, viz., the Three Choruses, the standing army, the rather inclusive political and ritual life, the private sphere remains a difficulty. The Athenian Stranger admits that it is nearly impossible to guarantee the proper behaviors in private (7.788a5-b4; 790b2-8; 807b3-c1), but nonetheless private behaviors must be regulated, by whatever means possible, in order to ensure that private interests do not outweigh public interests (6.780a1-b2; 9.875a1-10). Indeed, the Athenian Stranger describes “first best state” as one in which everything private has become communal, and not just material goods, wives, and children, but the very 6

Depew and Obbink (2000) 3-4.

7

Kowalzig (2007) 1-3; 68 suggests that for Plato, choral performance is the primary medium through which myth and ritual interact, offering an intense sensory experience for all involved. 8

Kowalzig (2007) 3.

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discourse, so that all speak, hear, think and act in common (5.739b7-e3).9 The concern over too much privacy, then, is an ethical one. Private behaviors are difficult to regulate and could lead to the habituation of undesirable, even subversive, thoughts and actions. The Laws addresses this concern by making as much of life as public as possible, rendering most acts and behaviors public performances. Very young children are not at home, but are carried about to the fields and temples of the city until they join play-groups and then move on to formal lessons and the Muses’ Chorus; consequently, when when they are awake, they are in public and closely monitored in their movement and activities, e.g., in their games, songs and dances (7.789e3790a4; 793e1-8; 794c3-d2). As adult citizens, they are kept moving and active, engaged during the day in celebrations as members of Apollo’s and Dionysus’ Choruses and at night in state or household management (5.747b1-8; 7.808b7-c2; 819c4-d1). Common meals are another means of making what is typically a private performance into a public performance. They serve to keep the citizenry in the public eye, and this is particularly important in the case of women who, when behind closed doors, are liable to engage in behaviors that serve their own private interests, not the interests of the community (6.780a9-b1; 781c5-d3). The text is somewhat inconsistent in its treatment of the sussitia; the Athenian Stranger says women should attend them (6.780e2-781b3), though he later admits he has not decided whether the common meals should be mixed or not (6.783b5-c4).10 Despite the Athenian Stranger’s lack of precision, his aim at least seems clear: to limit, as far as possible, privacy and its potential for encouraging hidden and undesirable behaviors by making meals public. Consequently, what little time Magnesians spend in their homes is allotted for domestic management around the very few 9

Cf. Republic 424a. The notion of the state of Magnesia as second best, after Callipolis, the state of the Republic, is found at 5.739e3-5; 745e7-10; 7.807b8-c1; 9.875d3-4. 10

Common meals are described as both a family activity (7.806e3-807a3) and a tribal one (6.762c1).

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hours of sleep they require (7.807e5-8). Even young married couples are monitored in their efforts to procreate (6.783d9-784b3). There is no division between public and private life, because there is no private life to speak of: the Athenian Stranger insists that everything in the state must be ordered, including every citizen’s day from one dawn to the next and throughout his whole life (6.780d6-9; 7.807d8-e2). Like the chorēgos leading his chorus, the Lawgiver must orchestrate and guide the life of the individual and state, but can do so only if that life is in its entirety in plain view. Then, one’s whole life consists of the public performance of citizenship, because the artistic, military, and personal spheres of performance are absorbed into a single, continuous and civic performance. Everyday speech and state sanctioned poetry merge into a single civic discourse of euphēmia, so that the poets and the people always and in every possible context utter the very same things throughout their lives, that the just life is the best. The content of every day speech is the very same as the content of the hymns, prayers and praises that the poets compose and the citizens sing (2.664a4-9; 5.739b7-e3; 7.800e10-801b3). Such is also the case for everyday movement, which itself becomes a choral performance. The citizens perform as choristers regularly, yet even when they are attending to the management of their homes and city, they are moving throughout Magnesia in processional lines and choral circles. Daily movement and speech are transformed into modalities of choreia, choral movement and poetic song. Plato collapses all the spheres of performance into a single, unified Magnesian civic discourse. Measured and rhythmic motion and philosophically sound speech become the shared restored behavior of all Magnesians, creating a city whose continuous movement constitutes the state’s performance of its own civic excellence.

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If the psychophysical correlation between the movements of the body and the movements of the soul is indeed elemental to the mimetic process, and if the analogy between individual and state holds true in the Laws, then Magnesia’s movements constitute a comprehensive and expert manipulation of the mimetic processes. Plato directs the mimetic process at every level of existence, so that in Magnesia, each individual moves in concert with himself and with the rest, moving the state in constant revolution around the fixed point of its acropolis, imitating the dance of the gods as they care for the universe and the movement of the universe itself. The city, as a performance of its own excellence, also serves as the choral expression of the order of the universe and, like the universe, is an entity sufficient unto itself, a unified and absolute mimetic act. This is one lens through which to view Plato’s fictional city in the Laws. The dialogue continues to garner interest among Platonists. The compilation of essays recently published as Plato’s Laws: A Critical Guide seeks to situate the under-studied dialogue on the continuum of Platonic thought, exploring the themes of morality, psychology, theology, and family that have been, with a few exceptions, overlooked in the past. It constitutes the third collected study on the dialogue and follows to a great extent the previous two, in theme, scope and traditional method. While illuminating, none of the three collections addresses movement or performance in the Laws.11 However, scholars who are not strictly Platonists are bringing to bear diverse fields of inquiry upon the dialogue and the city embedded with in it. In February 2007, Stanford hosted the conference “Mousikē, Performance & Culture in Plato’s Laws,” inviting mostly nonPlatonists to tackle the text with fresh eyes and address questions of performance in the dialogue. 11

Plato’s Laws: A Critical Guide, ed. Christopher Bobonich (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). Prior to this collection of essays, only two collective studies have been published Lisi (2001) and Brisson and Scolnicov ( 2003).

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From this conference came a sense of Plato’s abiding interest in musical culture and the Laws as his fullest expression of this interest.12 If this dissertation has offered any insights into Plato’s understanding of movement, dance, and performance in the Laws, it has hopefully raised some questions, as well, and illuminated some potential avenues of inquiry that it has by necessity or neglect left unexplored. I have intimated, though not fully pursued, the notion that Plato’s Laws, inasmuch as it constitutes a psychology of movement and character, anticipates contemporary research on movement in the field of cognitive science. Modern research has acknowledged that movement repertoires can reflect, possibly shape personality, and continues to explore the question of how movement participates in, and is expressive of, the cognitive processes. The most recent research admits of different types of movement, intelligence, and different types of cognition, but all of it points to cognition as a textured process which occurs through speech, action, and interaction with others, and the role of movement in learning has become a central tenet of brain, mind and body research.13 This interest in how movement and thought can impact one another informs not only cognitive science studies, but studies in dance anthropology and education, as well.14 While the canon of educational utopias typically overlooks the Laws (in favor of the more widely read Republic), it is in the Laws where Plato attempts to solve the question of educability,

12

The resulting volume, The City Dancing: Performance & Culture in Plato’s Laws, ed. Anastasia-Erasmia Peponi, is currently under review by Cambridge University Press. Contributors include Richard Martin, Gregory Nagy, Claude Calame, Leslie Kurke, Mark Griffith, Ian Rutherford, Penelope Murray, Oswyn Murray, Andrew Barker, Andrea Nightingale, Susan Stephens, Marcus Folch, and Kathryn Morgan. 13

The literature is extensive, but representative of the trend in research are: Davis (1977) 207-210; Gardner (1982) and (1999). Gardner is the first to suggest a kinetic intelligence; see also Goldin-Meadow (2003) on the role of gesture in language acquisition. 14

Sheets-Johnstone (1981) 399-407; Hanna (2001) 81-85; (2005) 203-220.

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that is, of maximizing the capacity to learn virtue by creating the best possible physical circumstances in which learning can happen; for Plato, the best circumstances involve continuous, rhythmic, orderly movement engaged in by individuals and the community together in a city designed precisely for orderly movement on the cosmic model of the universe’s motion. Changing the human being is no easy task; there is an abiding tension between the goal of human perfection and the limits of change. As with any utopian vision, educational utopias run the risk of degenerating into dystopias, precisely because of the stubbornness of human nature. Yet the very process of grappling with the issue of educability, of imagining a setting in which the educability of every individual is ensured, is central to Plato’s final dialogue and continues to play a pivotal role in the philosophy and science of education.

Epilogue With this I return to Plato’s pyrrhic dance and the question posed in the title, “Why should I dance for Athena?” Precisely how does dancing the pyrrhichē contribute to the cultivation of civic excellence? Why it is so important to Magnesia and to Plato? As I have argued in this dissertation, Plato sets his pyrrhic dance in direct ideological contrast to the Athenian pyrrhic dance, which was performed annually and every four years by Athenian males who were likely from wealthy families. The Magnesian pyrrhichē, by contrast, is performed daily by boys and girls and young men and women from all four property classes, resulting in a collective choral experience for the Magnesian citizen body; this inclusive choral experience offers an alternative, indeed revolutionary, notion of participatory citizenship that includes women. Furthermore, whereas the Athenian pyrrhichē provided no practical training in warfare,

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the Magnesian pyrrhic dance is itself drawn from the combat training all Magnesian boys and girls receive. The dance not only redefines citizenship; it redefines the citizen-soldier. It also redefines worship, specifically, Athena worship. Since she is primarily a martial deity, it may be helpful to turn first to the virtue most immediately associated with Athena and war: courage (andreia/andria). As we have seen, citizens imitate the moderate and courageous in their dances of peace and war, respectively. Indeed, the virtues of courage and moderation are counterparts, for moderation is a form of courage amidst pleasures. Yet what are the best circumstances or physical training in which courage might be learned? Precisely what courage is and whether or not it can be taught are the very questions posed in the earlier Socratic dialogue the Laches (190c). From the time of the Peloponnesian War and throughout the fourth century many young Athenian citizens learned combat skills from hoplomachoi, teachers of the martial arts described as “military sophists,” and the practical question with which the Laches begins is whether training under a well-known hoplomachos will help the sons of two friends become as good as possible, courageous, in fact.15 The Laches is an aporetic dialogue, so while the interlocutors do seem to agree that courage is not passed on from father to son, they fail to reach a working definition of courage, and so they disband. This failure to define the virtue of courage points significantly to instability in its meaning. Karen Bassi has mapped the use of andreia and its cognates from Homer to Aristotle. Although a highly contested feature of Greek culture during most periods, its Homeric and archaic associations cluster around physical beauty, strength, and martial prowess. However, the term becomes especially ambiguous in Thucydides, Plato and Aristotle, who endow it with a 15

Wheeler (1982) 224-225. We are reminded that in the Meno Socrates remarks that Thucydides (son of Melesias, not the historian) had his sons trained to become the best wrestlers, though they did not learn virtue (94c).

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decidedly civic dimension. She observes that in Pericles’ “Funeral Oration” Thucydides paints courage as a polis-specific virtue, while Plato sees it as stasis-specific.16 In short, they reconceptualize courage as a political virtue (andreia politikē), tied to the specific situations of external and internal war. Yet while Plato and Aristotle find the inherited understanding of courage too narrow in scope, they nonetheless register andreia in nostalgic terms.17 Angela Hobbs examines Plato’s developing notion of the hero and courage, and finds that he broadens the scope of andreia beyond the traditional military and male contexts to include the domestic, the political and the female.18 She furthermore connects this expanded definition with the importance for Plato of role models and the need sometimes to discard dangerous role models like Achilles, whose andreia is not only limited in its application, but also accompanied by emotional excess.19 While Bassi does not include the Laws in her essay, and Hobbs mentions it only very briefly in a final chapter, both their studies point to a tension in late Platonic thought between the inherited, unstable understandings of courage and the desire to fashion a stable and civic notion of courage that includes (but is not limited to) martial excellence, and which is exemplified not by the Homeric hero, but by the perfect citizen. I suggest here that Plato’s final thoughts on courage are to be found in his notion of the perfect citizen, specifically, the citizen of Magnesia. Early in the Laws Plato expands the possible contexts for peace and war: each can happen within the individual, the family, the village, the state, as well as between states (1.626c8-627d4). Yet,

16

Bassi (2003) 27-28; 46-47; 50-54.

17

Ibid., 52-54.

18

Hobbs (2006) 68-76.

19

Ibid., 59-67.

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since internal strife (stasis) is the worst thing to befall any state or individual, the Lawgiver’s first aim is to achieve internal peace within state and individual (628a8-d2). The civic dimension is obvious: internal peace, i.e., harmony and friendship (symphōnia, philia), achieved through reconciliation of all the parts, is fundamental to the virtuous and happy state (628d1-2; 630e3; 640b2-c9). Yet, the internal state of the individual is also the responsibility of the Lawgiver (650b6-10), so there is an ethical dimension to peace and war modeled on the civic: one’s inner battle with excess or fear is a form of stasis; using reason to reconcile and order such conflicting impulses constitutes moderation and courage (647c7-d9). Courage is the fourth of the divine goods or virtues, after wisdom, temperance, and justice. Total virtue – phronēsis, sōphrōn psychēs, dikaiosynē, and andria – is better than courage alone, and is the aim of the Lawgiver (630d11-e5; 705e1-706a4; 770c7-d8). The cultivation of only courage, as in Crete and Sparta, is misguided, since it is the fourth in order of the virtues and it does not contribute to one’s ability to manage his household and state (666d10667a5). Yet the virtue of courage is a real concern in the Laws. Along with temperance, it is the virtue most easily discerned in the individual’s bearing and so the most accurately represented in song and dance, and it seems that one can learn courage through gymnastic training and the physical act of imitating the courageous person (655a9-c9). This is perhaps because, as the Athenian Stranger points out, courage is the one virtue that can arise in the soul naturally, and without reason (12.963e4-9). Since it is based in fear, an emotional phenomenon with physiological impact, it makes sense that physical training would be helpful in cultivating natural impulses toward courage and discouraging those toward cowardice (641b2-645b8). Courage is also an attribute of the gods, and Plato interestingly connects their courage with their attentiveness and constant activity in their care of all things (10.901e4-10). This seems 221

to be a causal relationship: for mortals, laziness stems from idleness and idleness from cowardice (901e6-7), yet spending every waking hour in constant civic activity can endow one’s soul with courage (7.808c7-10). The Athenian Stranger does not elaborate on the mechanism at work here, yet he does establish a clear and causal connection between continuous civic and religious activity and courage. We recall that the path to the happy and blest life is continual communion with the gods (4.717d3-e2); that Magnesians engage in perpetual movement that alternates between religious activity and civic or domestic activity; and that every citizen’s complete attention must be on citizenship at all times (6.751c6-d6; 8.846d5-10; 847a4-b2). Furthermore, the perfect citizen is not only able to do battle on the state’s behalf, but can and should also be capable of managing peacetime affairs (6.751c6-d6; 8.846d5-10). We turn again to Athena – or, more accurately – Plato’s Athena. Just as Plato culls inherited musical and social forms for their most virtuous elements, he will do so for the gods of Magnesia, as well. Athena is central to Magnesian life, not merely in her temple on the Magnesian Acropolis, but in the daily pyrrhic performances that emulate her and invoke her presence. We recall that she is not merely the vigilant martial deity of the citadel, but the author and patron of the civilized arts of the city, those engaged by men and women. As Athena Ergane, she is the patron of weaving and wool working, as well carpentry and pottery.20 She invented the bridle, the pot, the rake, the plow, the yoke, the ship, and the chariot; and is closely associated with athletic competitions, horsemanship, music and dance, having invented the flute and, in one tradition, the pyrrhic chorus.21 Finally, she is a dispenser of justice and laws, credited with

20

Odyssey 2.115-116; Homeric Hymn 20.2-3; as mother of the arts, Orphic Hymn to Athena 32; for Athena Ergane”s temple on the Panathenaic Way, see Pausanias 1.24.3. 21

Iliad 23.388-406 she intervenes on Diomedes’ behalf in the chariot race and on Odysseus’ behalf in the footrace (23.770-783). On her epithet Hippia and having taught the Athenians horsemanship, see Pausanias 1.30.4.

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establishing the homicide court and the justice system at Athens.22 She is a creative and energetic intelligence, alert and attentive to every need or demand of the civilized state. In short, Athena is the complete civic deity, the immortal and ideal citizen who can in peacetime adeptly manage household and city, see to the various needs of the city, enjoy singing and dancing for the gods, and prepare for the possibility of war; in in wartime, she will rise to the challenge of battle to protect home and city. Yet while Athena, as a warrior deity, traditionally exemplifies courage, Plato’s Athena also exemplifies the expanded notion of courage, political virtue, as well as the other three virtues of wisdom, temperance, and justice. Possessing full virtue, Athena is the model of civic perfection. By emulating Athena, by dancing the pyrrhichē for her, one imitates, expresses and assimilates her virtues. By emulating her on a frequent, inclusive and regular basis, the Magnesian citizenry increases the chances of assimilating those virtues. In Magnesia, we will not find the cultivation of any of the traditional heroes or legendary role models.23 Rather, we will find Athena and those citizens who, emulating the goddess, themselves display civic excellence. Dancing the pyrrhichē for Athena in Magnesia is what Plato thinks dancing the pyrrhichē should be, and what it was not in Athens. It is all-inclusive in its emulation of the goddess who is the citizen-dancer par excellence. Citizens from all four property classes and both genders learn how to dance the pyrrhichē, so it becomes a shared experience for all Magnesians. By the psychophysical process of assimilation, the citizens of Magnesia will move that much closer to civic virtue and perfection. Plato may well intend the 22

Aeschylus Eumenides 681-710.

23

Cf. 2.661d8-662a2, where immediately after addressing the content of poetic speech, the Athenian Stranger describes the man who enjoys the human goods - health, wealth, beauty, and strength - as well as absolute power and courage, but who remains unjust and insolent. I suggest this is an allusion to such figures as Achilles and Agamemnon who, though traditionally the heroes of epic and tragedy, are not fit to represent in Magnesian poetry.

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pyrrhichē in Magnesia to train citizens in civic virtue, so that eventually the excessive heroes of epic will be replaced with the perfect citizens of Magnesia. Citizens become heroes. Just as Plato dismantles inherited musical forms and refashions them for Magnesia, he also dismantles and refashions the very notion of the citizen and the hero in his pyrrhichē.

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