Shapeshifters in Greek Poetry

Home , Hamadryad, Proteus, Shapeshifting

Changing Shapes and Fluid Forms: Shapeshifters in Greek Poetry

A thesis submitted to the University of Manchester for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Faculty of Humanities

2020

Katharine E. Mawford

School of Arts, Languages and Cultures

Contents

List of Abbreviations ...... 4 Abstract ...... 5 Declaration ...... 6 Copyright Statement ...... 6 Acknowledgements ...... 7 Introduction ...... 8 i. Definitions ...... 10 ii. Research context ...... 19 iii. Methodology ...... 22 iv. Outline of approach and chapters ...... 30 Chapter 1: Transformations ...... 33 1.1 Survey of transformations ...... 34 i. Transforming vs transformed ...... 34 ii. Gender and agency ...... 45 1.2 Transformation episodes ...... 52 i. Close readings ...... 52 ii. Animals ...... 57 iii. Elements ...... 69 1.3 Transferred metamorphosis...... 87 i. Dionysus ...... 87 ii. Proteus...... 98 iii. Conclusion...... 101 Chapter 2: Characterisation and Narrative Role ...... 103 2.1 Shapeshifters and international (folk)tales ...... 104 i. Protean resemblances ...... 107 ii. Transformation motifs ...... 109 iii. Shapeshifters beyond Greece ...... 110 iv. Swan Maidens ...... 111 v. Magical gifts: the divine helper ...... 114 vi. Conclusion ...... 115 2.2 Elements of characterisation ...... 117 i. Relationship/proximity to water ...... 117

2 ii. Shapeshifters as Tricksters ...... 127 iii. Weaknesses of ambiguous form ...... 136 2.3 Shapeshifting and monstrosity ...... 144 i. Introduction: what makes a monster? ...... 144 ii. Narrative function ...... 156 iii. Shapechanging as a monstrous attribute ...... 161 iv. Primordial nature...... 165 v. Conclusion ...... 168 Chapter 3: Synoptic Readings ...... 171 3.1 Proteus in the Odyssey and beyond: the significance of Odyssey 4...... 172 i. Proteus beyond the Odyssey ...... 173 ii. A shapeshifting prophet ...... 177 iii. Parallel with Nestor ...... 178 iv. Trickery in the Odyssean context ...... 180 v. Sea as opponent ...... 186 vi. Narratological parallels ...... 188 vii. Proteus and Polyphemus ...... 189 viii. Conclusion ...... 191 3.2 Thetis’ inverted motherhood ...... 192 i. Thetis and Achilles ...... 193 ii. Thetis, Dionysus and Hephaestus ...... 200 Conclusion ...... 210 Bibliography ...... 214 Appendix ...... 226

Word count: 79,874

3 List of Abbreviations

AT Aarne, A., and S. Thompson (1981, rev. 1961) The Types of the Folktale: A Classification and Bibliography (4th edn.) FFC 184. Helsinki

Beekes Beekes, R. (2009) Etymological Dictionary of Greek. (2 vols). Leiden.

FGrH Die Fragmente Der Griechischen Historiker Part I-III. Jacoby, F. (ed.), Brill’s New Jacoby, Brill Reference Online: https://referenceworks.brillonline.com/browse/die-fragmente-der- griechischen-historiker-i-iii

Grimm Individual tales cited as numbered and translated in Zipes, J. (ed.) (2003) Brothers Grimm. The Complete Fairy Tales. London.

Lewis & Short Lewis, C.T. and C. Short (1879) A Latin Dictionary. Oxford.

LIMC Lexicon iconographicum mythologiae classicae (1981-), Ackermann, H.C., and J.-R. Gisler (eds.) 8 volumes.

LSJ Liddel, H.G., R. Scott, H.S. Jones, and R. McKenzie (eds.) (1968), A Greek-English Lexicon (9th edn.) Oxford.

ML Christiansen, R. (1958) The Migratory Legends: a proposed list of types with a systematic catalogue of the Norwegian variants. FFC 175. Helsinki.

M-W Solmsen, F., R. Merkelbach, and M.L. West (eds.) (1990) Hesiodi Theogonia; Opera et Dies; Scutum. (3rd edn.) Oxford.

Radt Radt, S. (ed.) (1977; 1985) Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (TrGF) Vol. 3 Aeschylus; Vol. 4. Sophocles. Gottingen.

Smyth Smyth, H.W., rev. G.M. Messing (1966) Greek Grammar. Cambridge.

ST Thompson, S. (1955-8) A Motif-index of Folk-Literature. Bloomington.

TLG Thesaurus Linguae Graecae: a Digital Library of Greek Literature, (2001-) University of California, Irvine. Available at: http://stephanus.tlg.uci.edu/tlg.php

Greek texts are referred to by the abbreviations given in the LSJ, though I have retained simply Od and Il for the Odyssey and Iliad respectively; for Latin texts I have used the abbreviations found in Hornblower, S., A. Spawforth, and E. Eidinow (eds.) (2012) Oxford Classical Dictionary.

I have throughout used the Latinised spellings of Greek names.

Unless otherwise indicated, Greek and Latin text is taken from the most recent Loeb edition, and all translations from Greek and Latin are my own.

4 Abstract

This thesis examines the depiction and nature of shapeshifting characters such as Proteus and Thetis in early Greek poetry and traces the effects and appearance of these characters, where appropriate, into Hellenistic poetry. Shapeshifters can be read as a distinct group of figures with varying degrees of a family resemblance; a range of approaches is required to analyse them. These include discussion of the structural parallels and recurring motifs which exist between episodes, analysis of the intra- and intertextual links between different literary depictions, and thematic assessment of the episodes and the characters involved. The thesis further employs comparative readings: a study of Greek shapeshifter myths with international tale- types, including those of European folktale, and additionally with certain character- types in the Greek mythic corpus – monsters and hybrid creatures such as Scylla and Typhon, and trickster figures. Finally, the thesis also employs two synoptic readings, focusing respectively on the development of the individual characters of Proteus and Thetis, the best-attested shapeshifters.

The thesis therefore explores the characterisation and narrative significance of shapeshifters, along with their roles and functions in the texts in which they appear. The nature and depiction of the transformation process itself is a central focus of the thesis, including shared (and unique) narrative elements and the variance between shapeshifting episodes. Accordingly, the thesis explores distinctions between voluntary and involuntary transformations, between transforming and being transformed, and between disguise and metamorphosis. The thesis demonstrates the vast interest and potential for study which these figures hold, building on previous readings, and provides a reinterpretation of Greek shapeshifters. It argues for firm identification of Dionysus as a shapeshifter and delves more deeply than previous studies into the implications of gender for shapeshifting, providing a more nuanced reading of female shapeshifters which allows both for parallels (such as those between Mestra and Thetis) and divergences (for instance between Metis and Thetis) to become apparent.

5 Declaration

No portion of the work referred to in the thesis has been submitted in support of an application for another degree or qualification of this or any other university or other institute of learning.

i. The author of this thesis (including any appendices and/or schedules to this thesis) owns certain copyright or related rights in it (the “Copyright”) and s/he has given The University of Manchester certain rights to use such Copyright, including for administrative purposes.

ii. Copies of this thesis, either in full or in extracts and whether in hard or electronic copy, may be made only in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 (as amended) and regulations issued under it or, where appropriate, in accordance with licensing agreements which the University has from time to time. This page must form part of any such copies made.

iii. The ownership of certain Copyright, patents, designs, trademarks and other intellectual property (the “Intellectual Property”) and any reproductions of copyright works in the thesis, for example graphs and tables (“Reproductions”), which may be described in this thesis, may not be owned by the author and may be owned by third parties. Such Intellectual Property and Reproductions cannot and must not be made available for use without the prior written permission of the owner(s) of the relevant Intellectual Property and/or Reproductions.

iv. Further information on the conditions under which disclosure, publication and commercialisation of this thesis, the Copyright and any Intellectual Property and/or Reproductions described in it may take place is available in the University IP Policy (see http://documents.manchester.ac.uk/DocuInfo.aspx?DocID=24420), in any relevant Thesis restriction declarations deposited in the University Library, The University Library’s regulations (see http://www.library.manchester.ac.uk/about/regulations/) and in The University’s policy on Presentation of Theses

6 Acknowledgements

I have been extraordinarily lucky to have received so much support throughout the PhD, without which I certainly would not have reached this stage. I would like to thank first of all the staff and postgraduates of the Department of Classics, Ancient History, Archaeology, and Egyptology for their support and friendship during my time in Manchester.

Above all, I am enormously grateful to my supervisor, Professor Andrew Morrison, for his kind support, encouragement, and νημερτής guidance throughout this process. My thanks also go to Professor Alison Sharrock and Dr Jenny Bryan for their role on my panels and for giving me feedback throughout (and making sure that I never got too far away from Ovid or Plato!).

A good chunk of this thesis was written in the wonderful library at the Fondation Hardt: I would like to thank the Fondation for giving me the chance to work in such an idyllic setting, and the Classical Association for funding my visit. I am very grateful to the North West Consortium Doctoral Training Partnership for their generous funding of my PhD research.

I count myself extremely lucky to have found many wonderful friends in Manchester who have made me feel truly at home here: Jules and Matt deserve special mention, and my heartfelt thanks also go to Silvannen and Kat (both for their friendship and for their excellent proofreading of the thesis), and to Eleni, Alex, Will, Jules (my wonderful office-mate), Serena, Laura, Leo, Francesco, Alathea, Matteo, Tom, and Emma. Thanks also to my friends who have stayed with me since school, especially Harriet, Amy, Isabel, and Paul.

Lastly, since none of this would have been possible without her unending support and inspiration, my biggest thanks go to my mother, Elaine. I am very grateful for the support of whole family throughout this process, so warmest thanks also go to my brother, Chris, to Val, and (of course) to Freyja.

7 Introduction

Transformations abound in Greek myth and literature: gods appear in whatever form they choose, naiads turn themselves into trees, and mortals are transformed in punishment for transgressions against the gods. Within this vast corpus of myth there exists a subgroup of figures who form the basis of this thesis, shapeshifters, who appear across genres and character-types. In the course of the ‘transformation-friendly’ Odyssey,1 the audience, along with Telemachus, learn of Menelaus’ journey home, during which he is forced by necessity to ambush and capture Proteus, the Old Man of the Sea. Once grasped, the shapeshifting god undergoes a series of rapid transformations, until his metamorphic powers are exhausted and he is forced to present the hero with whatever information he seeks – in this instance, Menelaus’ means of placating the gods and the fate of the other Greek heroes after leaving Troy. This episode, which contains echoes of many of the epic’s wider narrative themes and structures, presents us with one of the earliest literary depictions of a shapeshifter and sets the precedent both for later depictions and for the audience’s horizon of expectations.

The primary aim of this thesis is to provide a detailed study of the literary depiction, characterisation, and nature of shapeshifters across early Greek poetry. I explore the multiple and varied ways in which these characters – the wide cast of whom we will meet in the following pages – appear in early Greek texts by providing a close, analytical reading both of individual depictions and the broader themes which inform these portrayals. It is my intention to treat this group of figures – one which is rife with associations both internal and external – with the attention it deserves (and which, to date, it has not received) and thus to bring to light the many complexities and associations which can be drawn from their role in myth and their consequences for our interpretation of the texts in which they appear. These include the associations inherent in the forms assumed by shapeshifters, the fluid identity of these characters and its ramifications for the narratives in which they appear, and the role of the episode in allowing for divine- mortal interaction. I shall demonstrate that not only can the transformations of shapeshifters be considered a distinct genre of transformation, worthy of focused

1 Buxton (2010) 81.

8 study, but that discussion of these figures has a fundamental impact on our understanding of the phenomenon of metamorphosis of Greek myth. As I shall show, shapeshifters are the agents of their own transformations; their changes of shape are related to their inherent changeability and are such that they may even influence and affect the form or shape of those around them, leading to crises of identity in mortals. Shapeshifters, moreover, are distinguished by the reality of their transformations, physical changes which are an essential part of their narrative function and which are thus different in nature from the disguised epiphanies of Olympian deities.

Naturally, in approaching such a topic it has been both essential and desirable to set limits on the scope of my study. Unlike the works of Richard Buxton and P.M.C. Forbes Irving,2 two studies on which this thesis builds and to which it owes a great deal, and to which I shall return later, I have set as my primary focus not simply Greek poetry or myth, but specifically that of the Archaic period, drawing from the Homeric epics, the Hesiodic corpus, the Homeric Hymns, Pindar’s Odes, and the fragments of the epic cycle, including the Cypria. It has been fruitful, however (and indeed necessary with the loss of much of the epic cycle, which doubtless would provide much in the way of material for this study)3 to make use of Greek tragedy, which offers a wealth of useful material for the study of transformation and allows for consideration of portrayals across generic boundaries. Hellenistic texts, too, in particular the Argonautica and, to a lesser extent, Lycophron’s Alexandra, provide much valuable material for this study. This range of texts has allowed me to view these figures not only in isolation, but also to trace the impact of, for instance, such malleable characters as the Odyssean Proteus and the Iliadic Thetis on later, Hellenistic poetry. Moreover, this expansive view allows for consideration of various traditions related to shapeshifters and the shifts which occur – for instance, the development of Thetis’ testing of her children’s mortality, which is linked to her status as a shapeshifter and the anxieties generated by her unstable identity and position.

It is my intention not only to bring to light the rich soil that is Greek instantiations of shapeshifting myths, but specifically to focus on ‘early’ treatments

2 Buxton (2009), Forbes Irving (1990). 3 On this, see Griffin (1977).

9 of such figures, to circumvent the issue of Ovidian influence on later texts. While Ovid’s Metamorphoses, of course, presents a detailed and extremely valuable corpus of transformations,4 a study which brings in Ovidian models as a means of comparison would run the severe risk of being dominated by this material.5 If this thesis were to include selection from Ovid’s epic, therefore, the core aim of shining a light upon the understudied material (which is extremely worthy of study) would be at best blurred and perhaps lost altogether. Similarly, while Nonnus’ fifth century Dionysiaca, for instance, contains rich pickings for the study of metamorphosis and shapeshifting,6 it will not feature in the thesis due to its post- Ovidian composition.

i. Definitions

I shall turn now to the matter of shapeshifters themselves. First, and most importantly, it is necessary to clarify what exactly is meant by a shapeshifter in the context of the many instances of gods or mortals transforming themselves or others in Greek myth. While various attempts to define these figures have been made,7 my approach introduces a new perspective and thus I shall first outline my own understanding of these figures.

Essentially, a shapeshifter must have the ability to effect self- transformation; it is this which sets them apart from mortals who are subjected to transformations at the hands of gods or other supernatural characters. The transformations of shapeshifters are also distinguished from those of the Olympian deities by their nature; shapeshifters do not undergo single, discrete transformations but sequences of related metamorphoses.

4 Cf. Frontisi-Ducroux (2003) 19. 5 As noted by Buxton (2009) 20. 6 For example, Zeus’ sequence of transformations in his pursuit of and sex with Semele (7.210- 21, 328-36) which contains many of the same elements as Proteus’, Thetis’ or Dionysus’ shapeshifting episodes (transformation into a lion, a snake, etc.) but which is an inversion of the model set up by Proteus and Thetis. Zeus’ shapeshifting here is a means of pursuit (unsurprisingly given Zeus’ wider myths) rather than as a means of escape, and to generate resemblances between Zeus and Dionysus. See Buxton (2010) 87-8. 7 Buxton (2009) 174-5; Forbes Irving (1990) 171.

10 Certain characters, especially Proteus and Thetis, are treated as the models for shapeshifters in this thesis (and indeed were treated as such by Plato);8 as such I turn to these characters first in order to draw out those characteristics which have led to their uncontroversial inclusion in this group of figures. As the shapeshifter whose transformation sequence itself has the most developed literary portrayal,9 Proteus is of great value as a means of approaching other shapeshifters. As discussed above, Proteus features in Book 4 of the Odyssey as a sea-god with divine knowledge, whom Menelaus must overpower by maintaining his hold throughout Proteus’ shapeshifting sequence which includes transformations into animals and elements. Once his powers are exhausted, Proteus returns to his anthropomorphic shape and provides Menelaus with the information he requires. Thetis, my second model shapeshifter, is firmly characterised by this pattern in Pindar’s Nemean 4 and frequently in iconography,10 as her shapeshifting features as an attempt to evade marriage to Peleus. Like Proteus, once overcome by her mortal attacker, Thetis returns to anthropomorphic form; however, the result of her defeat is not arcane knowledge but marriage. While Proteus’ shapeshifting episode is the main focus of his literary appearance, Thetis’ role as a shapeshifter is typically displaced in favour of the result of her being defeated in shapeshifting; that is, her role as the mother of Achilles and (secondly, and not unproblematically) as the wife of Peleus.11 Moreover, in her myths and particularly in the Iliad Thetis is often depicted as a figure of quite extraordinary influence over Zeus (seemingly at odds with her status as a minor goddess) and therefore as a critical player in the dealings of the gods, at least as far as these dealings involve Achilles, as Laura Slatkin has discussed in great detail.12 As I shall show, much of Thetis’ mythology can be read against her shapeshifting episode, which is tied to her power as a potentially cosmically challenging figure and impacts upon her maternally- motivated actions towards Achilles, and to Dionysus and Hephaestus.

8 Pl. Euthphr. 15d, and cf. his discussion in the Republic of the shapeshifting god as γόης, II.380d-381e (in which he refers also to Thetis). 9 This is in part because the Odyssey’s narrative lends itself to extended para-narratives (to borrow Alden’s (2017) term), where other texts may not to the same extent as a result, for instance, of narrative compression. Still others simply allude to the shapeshifting episode, rather than presenting this as a focus. 10 See, e.g. figures 2-4; see Aston (2011) and Frontisi-Ducroux (2003). 11 Her shapeshifting, as we shall see, is linked to her sexuality, which Slatkin (1991) 31 notes is subordinated in the Iliad to her maternal role. 12 Slatkin (1991). In focusing primarily on the Iliad, however, Slatkin does not make much of Thetis’ shapeshifting and does not discuss this aspect of her power.

11 At the centre of these myths and their literary representation is a desire to present transformation as a series of events, rather than a singular or instantaneous event. Thus, when Proteus transforms:

πρώτιστα λέων γένετ᾽ ἠυγένειος, αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα δράκων καὶ πάρδαλις ἠδὲ μέγας σῦς· γίγνετο δ᾽ ὑγρὸν ὕδωρ καὶ δένδρεον ὑψιπέτηλον·13 the iterative nature of his shapeshifting sequence is stressed by the series of temporal adverbs and conjunctions πρώτιστα… ἔπειτα… καὶ… ἠδὲ… καί, while the imperfect γίγνετο suggests an ongoing action, compared to the aorist γένετο two lines prior (‘he became a well-maned lion’). We might therefore assume that this indicates an even fuller transformation sequence than that indicated in Menelaus’ retelling (which must naturally have a limit for the sake of narrative brevity), thus recalling Eidothea’s prediction that her father would transform into any and all creatures: πάντα δὲ γιγνόμενος πειρήσεται, ὅσσ᾽ ἐπὶ γαῖαν / ἑρπετά.14 Similarly, Pindar’s use of fire and lion transformations in his depiction of Thetis’ shapeshifting need not suggest that these are the only forms she assumes; rather, this is a compressed narrative15 which represents two distinct types or genres of transformation, i.e. into an animal and into an element, which may stand in for a greater range of forms within each category and thus effectively hint at her shapeshifting potential.

In addition to the ability to transform themselves and the presence of multiple transformations, both Proteus and Thetis, when grasped or otherwise threatened with confinement by a mortal,16 initiate a series of transformations, exchanging their (implicitly if not explicitly) anthropomorphic appearance for that of any shape from a range of ‘things’, animal, element or mineral. Despite the difference in threat to the shapeshifter – where Proteus need only reveal hidden knowledge, Thetis must leave the company of the Nereids and marry the mortal Peleus – both shapeshifters behave in a prescribed manner when threatened and employ self-transformation as a means of escape. Both characters, moreover, are connected to the sea: Thetis is a Nereid, while Proteus is the ἅλιος γέρων, ‘Old Man

13 Od. 4.456-8. 14 Od. 4.417-18. 15 A feature typical of Pindar’s poetry: see Morrison (2007a) 28; Griffith (1993). 16 This can be figured in the myths either by physical assault or the threat of marriage.

12 of the Sea’,17 and is depicted in the Odyssey as a seal-herd who brings his ‘flocks’ onto the seashore – it is in this location that Menelaus defeats the shapeshifter.

With this loose model in mind, other figures emerge who exhibit pronounced resemblances to one another, as I shall explore in the following summaries;18 it is useful to consider these in Wittgenstein’s terms as exhibiting a ‘family resemblance’,19 forming a group with a closely related central unit and a series of distant relatives and odd cousins popping up here and there, and with no single feature necessarily common to all members, but rather an intertwined network of resemblances and associations.

First, Nereus and Metis appear as figures with striking resemblances to Proteus and Thetis respectively. Nereus, another ἅλιος γέρων, is in some senses an analogue for Proteus but appears in a fragment of Pherecydes (FGrH 3 16a) as Heracles’ opponent and similarly transforms into water, fire, and a snake; Appearing in the Theogony, Metis is a daughter of Ocean and, like Thetis, is a potential consort of Zeus and one who could bear a child capable of overthrowing its father (886-90), a danger which in the poem’s context carries serious weight and thus renders her a threat to be neutralised, and which is emphasised by mentions of her cleverness (πλεῖστα…ἰδυῖαν, 887). While her shapeshifting is absent from the Theogony itself, it is described in a scholion to the Theogony (Σ Hes. Th. 886). Unlike Thetis, however, or Proteus, Metis’ transformations lead to her death or at least to her loss of selfhood – once defeated, she is consumed by and merged with Zeus, persisting only as an epithet (μητίετα) and quality of Zeus.20 Nemesis, too, is a shapeshifter characterised in this role by a potential marriage with Zeus, one which she rejects (Cypr. frr.10-11). Similarly to Metis, Nemesis transforms herself when pursued by Zeus, but unlike either Metis or Thetis, Nemesis is not fated to give birth to a child who could pose a threat to the cosmic order, nor is she killed, but goes on – in this tradition – to give birth to Helen from

17 Od. 4.365; also applied to Phorcys at 13.96 and 345. See Gantz (1993) 405-6. 18 Summaries of these figures (and others) have been made by Buxton (2009) and Forbes Irving (1990); my aim here is not to replace their summaries but simply to establish my own position. 19 Wittgenstein (2009 [1953]) §67: ‘I can think of no better expression to characterize these similarities than 'family resemblances'; for the various resemblances between members of a family ... overlap and criss-cross in the same way.’ 20 Hes. Th. 56, 520, 904, 914; cf. Il. 1.175. When swallowed by Zeus, Metis is assumed into his identity and self; she is no longer a character in her own right.

13 an egg.21 I shall return to this issue in chapter 1.1, since this apparent blurring of identity (Nemesis transforms into a goose and lays an egg) represents a significant discrepancy with the other shapeshifters, whose identities are never threatened by their shapeshifting.

Next we must consider Dionysus, a god regularly and strongly associated with bestial forms and unpredictable or deceptive appearance,22 who undergoes a shapeshifting sequence while at sea in the seventh Homeric Hymn. Although not a marine deity, Dionysus has authority not only related to wine but over all types of moisture.23 Reading this myth through the lens of shapeshifters is a useful tool for making sense of the god’s wider mythic background; as I shall show, there are several features of Dionysus’ characterisation which render him strongly reminiscent of other shapeshifters.

Mestra and Periclymenus are not deities but are granted powers of transformation by Poseidon (Hes. Cat. 43c M-W), who provides these shapeshifters with a marine connection.24 The daughter of Erysichthon, Mestra appears as the subject of a large fragment of the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women (43a M-W),25 in which she is repeatedly married off to various suitors before transforming into an animal, escaping, and returning to her father’s house, ready to begin the process again. Some of the text is very fragmentary,26 but the general plot of this episode resembles the model that is used throughout the Catalogue,27 and the story is supported by additional fragments, a scholion to Lycophron’s Alexandra (Σ Lyc. 1393 = Hes. Cat. 43b M-W) and a testimonium by Philodemus (Phld. Piet. B 6915– 26 Obbink = 43c M-W).28 Here we have a figure who is without question a

21 Although, as Aston (2011) 327-30 notes, Helen in some senses resembles Pandora and certainly causes disruption to mankind, if not disruption on a cosmic level. 22 See e.g. E. Ba. 920-22. He is associated with a range of animals, both in appearance, e.g. E. Ba. 1017-18: φάνηθι ταῦρος ἢ πολύκρανος ἰδεῖν / δράκων ἢ πυριφλέγων ὁρᾶσθαι λέων, and in company, see LIMC s.v. “Dionysos” 423 (depicted with a lion), 430-4 (with panthers), 435-6 (with bulls). Gasparri (1986) 414. 23 Plu. De Iside. 34: here, Plutarch aligns Dionysus with Osiris. 24 See Ziogas (2013) 16; cf. Poseidon’s transformation of Caenis at fr.87 M-W. 25 On the relationship of the Catalogue to the Theogony and Works and Days see, e.g. West (1985) 2, 126; Clay (2005); Tsagalis (2009) 158-60; Ziogas (2013) 63-6; Van Noorden (2015) 235-6. 26 Particularly the lines covering Athene’s judgement on Mestra’s marriage: see Ormand (2004); Hunter (2005). 27 See Rutherford (2005). 28 These two fragments seem to suggest a sale process rather than a marriage, but the essential structure remains the same.

14 shapeshifter but who undergoes a series of individual transformations, rather than the sustained shapeshifting we see in the aforementioned characters. However, although Mestra is not necessarily physically restrained, the threat of confinement can nonetheless be found in her resistance to marriage, an event which would result in a changed status and potentially more restrictive role.29 Periclymenus, too, is a mortal shapeshifter but is descended from Poseidon, his grandfather; uniquely, this shapeshifter uses his powers on the battlefield (Cat. fr.33a M-W), although he does not necessarily employ them in a directly offensive or aggressive manner.

As we can see, then, there are a series of resemblances linking these characters, who all possess the capability for self-transformations and tend to use this as a form of self-defence when threatened, leading to the presence of a shared episode-type. As a form of self-defence effected to avoid capture, however, the shapeshifting sequence usually – although not always30 – fails. In most cases the shapeshifter eventually runs out of forms or power, or simply stops (or is prevented from) transforming, returns to their original form, and is thus defeated by the opponent. Often, there follows some form of ‘wish’ or aid granted (i.e. the mortal achieves the aim which led them to attack the shapeshifter).31 The connection to water which is prominent in both Proteus’ and Thetis’ shapeshifting episodes also features as a common theme, though its extent varies, as it features as a location for the transformations, or the shapeshifter may somehow derive their metamorphic powers from the sea. Additionally, there tends to be some hint at trickery or deception inherent to the shapeshifter’s metamorphoses and/or the mortal’s ‘attack’, which may or may not lead to danger to the mortal involved, and – if the shapeshifter is female – the episode is often cast against a marriage theme, which constitutes for female shapeshifters both the end result (the ‘wish’ granted for the mortal aggressor) and the threat to be resisted.

Finally, there are some additional figures emerging from this consideration of family resemblances who do not form the focus of this thesis, although they may appear passim and are considered as parallels where relevant. Apollo transforms into a dolphin in his Homeric Hymn (399-403) and thus invites comparison with

29 Contra Forbes Irving (1990) 172-3 who excludes Mestra from his grouping of shapeshifters on precisely these grounds. 30 Contra Forbes Irving (1990) 178, 194. 31 Cf. Detienne (1978) 112.

15 Dionysus, as the two episodes bear striking resemblances and may be better understood when read together. Empousa, as depicted in Aristophanes’ Frogs (289-95), is modelled after Proteus’ appearance in the Odyssey, a portrayal which speaks to the impact and influence of Proteus’ episode in the Homeric poem. Due to the limited nature of her appearance in literary sources, Empousa does not provide much scope for individual analysis, but as a female shapeshifter and an explicitly frightening figure she will be considered later in the thesis.32 Achelous, distinguished from Proteus or Thetis by his status as a god of a river, not the sea, appears as Deianeira’s monstrously shapeshifting would-be suitor in Sophocles’ Trachiniae (9-17). He is a figure often associated with hybridity, both in cult worship and in myth33 – rather than the (presumed) anthropomorphic resting form of other shapeshifters. Achelous shapeshifts not to avoid marriage (which would in itself suggest a female shapeshifter) but rather in order to pursue another and thus presents some significant distinctions which will be addressed in the course of the thesis.

These three figures are further removed from those mentioned previously, yet all to a greater or lesser extent share characteristics related to the model described above which provide the reader (ancient or modern) with a set of expectations. However, the extent to which each may be considered ‘a shapeshifter’, as opposed to simply exhibiting behaviour characteristic of a shapeshifter, will be considered in the course of the thesis. These characters and their transformative abilities are distinguished from those of other deities primarily by the presence of the transformation sequence; Zeus, changing his appearance to pursue a nymph or mortal woman does so as a means of disguise and on one occasion in each instance; likewise Athene appearing as Mentes in the Odyssey does so in order to encourage Telemachus, and this mortal appearance is employed primarily as a disguise. Shapeshifters, on the other hand, are recognisable as such precisely because of their multiple transformations, which – while certainly an attempt to evade that part of their identity and narrative

32 Beekes s.v. Ἔμπουσα; cf. LSJ s.v. Ἔμπουσα. Cf. Philostr. VA 4.25.2-5 in which Menippus’ beautiful bride is revealed to be an ἔμπουσα, here an anthropophagic vampire-figure (βρῶσιν τοῦ σώματος) which appears in human form (φάσμα…γυνή). See chapter 1.1.ii, 2.3. 33 Aston (2011) 83-4.

16 function which requires the character to be subdued by or provide help to a mortal – mark them as distinct from other transforming characters.

For the purposes of my discussion, I consider the characters introduced above as a group (broadly defined) of figures who are linked by behaving in certain, prescribed ways and use their ability of self-transformation as a means of evading capture, and as such represent one small family of the much larger group of figures who have the power to transform, as opposed to those who may be transformed. In approaching shapeshifters through a family resemblance concept, I do not identify them according to the fulfilment of specific criteria, nor do I suggest that we should read ‘Shapeshifter’ as an exclusive and restrictive term to describe a certain or fixed ‘club’ of characters;34 rather, I suggest that this episode-type can only occur in certain settings, and that not every god or marginalised figure35 can be suited to it.36 Conversely, there are certain characters who are particularly well suited to exhibiting transformation sequences, who, I contend, can – and should – usefully be considered part of this group, however loosely it is defined. This is simply to stress that we lose nothing by terming Proteus or Thetis a shapeshifter, nor by including figures such as Dionysus and Mestra in this category – indeed it is vital to do so, as I shall demonstrate in the course of this thesis. With this in mind, it is the purpose of this thesis to present an in-depth and comprehensive study of the depiction of shapeshifting figures in early Greek poetry, with reference to later, Hellenistic poetry where relevant and significant particularly for our understanding of earlier texts. The thesis thus presents a broad, multifaceted approach, which I shall discuss in more depth below.

a. Language and terminology

Having identified and introduced our shapeshifters, it is necessary to spend some time on the language and terminology used throughout the thesis. I have

34 As Buxton (2009) 176 has cautioned against. 35 Buxton (2009) 174-5 and Forbes Irving (1990) 176 consider marginalisation as an essential (but in Buxton’s view problematic) characteristic. 36 Contra Buxton (2009) 177 – while the nature of his point that ‘shapeshifters’ (as viewed by Forbes Irving, since the point is made in response to Forbes Irving’s work) should not constitute an exclusive club is well-made with reference to Apollo, it does not follow from the application of this episode type to one Olympian that any Olympian may undergo serial metamorphoses – to suggest this is to overlook the many peculiarities of shapeshifter myths.

17 already defined my understanding of ‘shapeshifters’, and I have mentioned the ‘episode-type’ which contains the shapeshifting sequence, but some further clarification to distinguish these beings from those enacting other types of transformation will be of use here. Metamorphosis, of course, is an exceptionally broad term and one which immediately carries with it many complex associations, both in a modern and an ancient context. Moreover, as a concept, metamorphosis or transformation can apply to many different aspects of ancient literature, myth, and culture – from physical changes to the psychological alterations experienced in cult practice, both ‘real’ and perceived changes.37 Naturally, in studying shapeshifters, this thesis is concerned with physical changes (which may encompass disguises) and those which stem from Greek myth as represented primarily in literary sources. Even within this smaller subsection, however, there are a host of different factors at play; I shall now briefly summarise two important aspects, the English terminology employed in this thesis,38 and the distinctions drawn between transforming and being transformed.

In discussing these figures and the shapeshifting sequences which occur, the English ‘transformation’ is preferable to ‘metamorphosis’; although I employ both terms in this thesis they are not strictly speaking interchangeable. The verb ‘transform’ is useful here, as it can express transitive or intransitive actions: Zeus may himself transform, or he may transform others. It is also useful for the purpose of considering instances of shape-changing in Greek literature avoiding a reading influenced by the impact of Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Broadly, the categories of ‘transforming’ and ‘transformed’ can be distinguished by the simple point of activity vs. passivity, wherein those who are transformed into new forms are acted upon by the ‘transformer’, usually for the agent’s own ends.39 Shapeshifters, acting upon themselves, challenge such definition, however, since they are both acting and acted upon, and – as I discussed above and as I shall explore throughout this thesis – they are provoked into their shapeshifting sequence by the actions of a mortal pursuer.40 We might, therefore, more accurately frame this issue as one of agency, a

37 Buxton (2009) 20. 38 The Greek terminology used is of course of great importance and is discussed in chapter 1.1. 39 As is the case for Zeus transforming himself or the mortal women he pursues, or Athena’s self-transformation as disguise in Odyssey, cf. her disguising of Odysseus at e.g. Od. 6.229-35 for their mutual benefit (i.e. he is her favourite and so she wants him to succeed). 40 I suggest that the issue of Proteus’ will in his shape-changing episode is less important than that it is a conscious action carried out with a clear purpose, contra Baumbach (2013) 155:

18 theme to which I shall return in chapter 1.1.ii. A character transformed into another shape loses agency and/or their identity, for instance Niobe who, transformed into a stone, loses all movement and ability to act,41 or Odysseus’ men who are transformed by Circe into pigs and must passively await rescue by Odysseus.42 Hecabe’s eventual transformation into a dog is comparable: although it is not made completely clear why the change will take place, her transformation will result in a total loss of human identity such that the monument to her death in this form will record her only as a dog.43 Conversely, the act of transforming another emphasises one’s power over another being. This is the case, in the Odyssey, of Circe, who renders men less than human, or of Athene, whose power to transform/disguise44 herself is such that she may outwit even Odysseus. In these cases, the power of transforming is a supernatural or divine one, ‘other’ and distinctly threatening.

I shall return to this distinction between transforming and being transformed in chapter 1, as I consider the agency of shapeshifting characters in more depth. For now, having introduced our shapeshifters, I shall move on to discuss the research context, and next the theoretical underpinning of my analysis and the methodology this thesis employs.

ii. Research context

The topic of metamorphosis in general, particularly as it relates to Latin poetry and especially to Ovid’s Metamorphoses, has been the focus of a great deal of scholarly interest.45 Instances of transformation or metamorphosis in Greek literature, however, have received considerably less treatment, in part because there is on the surface simply less focused material to explore.46 Two notable works have, however, provided broad surveys of this material: Richard Buxton’s (2009) Forms of Astonishment, and P.M.C. Forbes’ Irving’s (1990) Metamorphosis in Greek

‘Proteus does not change his appearance voluntarily; rather, it is an extraneous force that motivates his metamorphoses’. 41 Il. 24.610-17. 42 Od. 10.235-43. 43 E. Hec. 1273: κυνὸς ταλαίνης σῆμα, ναυτίλοις τέκμαρ. 44 See chapter 1.1. 45 See, e.g. Feldherr (2002), Segal (1998). 46 See Griffin (1997) on Homer’s unwillingness to deal with fantasy material in contrast to what we know of the Cypria.

19 Myths, both of which contain ranging discussions of instances of transformation across the large corpus that is Greek literature. Both works, moreover, include some engagement with shapeshifters – yet both Buxton and Forbes Irving largely limit their consideration to one chapter which briefly outlines the shared characteristics of these figures, presenting some issues in their characterisation and discrepancies which occur. Such brief treatment not only lacks depth but as a result of its function necessarily involves generalisations and, at times, rather sweeping characterisations which do not account for the complexity of these figures and the richness of their literary portrayal.47

Forbes Irving, for instance, disregards Mestra on the grounds of her transformations taking place over multiple days and (with less validity) because of the lack of a binding theme,48 and thus misses the opportunity to consider Mestra with Periclymenus, the other mortal shapeshifter. Moreover, as Buxton points out, Forbes Irving’s description of these beings as ‘magical’ is inherently flawed – Proteus may well be aligned with Circe and similarly marginalised within the Odyssey’s cast of gods and supernatural beings, but his self-transformation is distinguished from Circe’s by the lack of φάρμακα; his transformation is in no concrete way more ‘magical’ than that of any Olympian.49 In fact, in considering this their primary characteristic, Forbes Irving’s analysis falls down on several points. Shapeshifters are not ‘heroes’, and in his conviction that Proteus is a magical figure distinguished from the Olympian gods, he makes the error of stating that Proteus is not a god at all within the narrative and is thus further distinguished even from his daughter Eidothea; in fact, Menelaus twice refers to Proteus as a god.50

Buxton, on the other hand, eventually rejects the idea of the existence of a group of shapeshifters altogether, and despite finding four ‘overlaps’ between the figures discussed, does not include the presence of multiple transformations as a marker.51 Thus while this work responds to and indeed corrects some of the issues

47 It is not my intention to undermine the value of either of these works, but simply to point out where my work contributes to gaps or overlooked portions of their approaches. 48 Forbes Irving (1990) 172-3. 49 Forbes Irving (1990), cf. Buxton (2009) 169. Proteus is however treated as a ‘wizard’ (γόης) by Plato: see chapter 2.2.ii. 50 Forbes Irving (1990) 176. Cf. Od. 4.397: ἀργαλέος γάρ τ᾽ ἐστὶ θεὸς βροτῷ ἀνδρὶ δαμῆναι; 465-8: οἶσθα, γέρον…θεοὶ δέ τε πάντα ἴσασιν. Circe, too, is clearly a divinity and is referred to as such several times (for instance by Hermes, 10.297); nonetheless, her transformative powers are directed outwardly and rely on her use of magical items, unlike Proteus’. 51 Buxton (2009) 174-5.

20 of Forbes Irving’s research, Buxton’s study appears to have fallen into a different trap – that of viewing the shapeshifter category as insufficiently strong, as opposed to being too keen to distinguish it artificially from other transformations. Therefore, while these studies have gone some way to account for this fascinating group of figures, these characters still present much in the way of interest and potential for study, and there is need for a systematic approach.

Françoise Frontisi-Ducroux’s (2003) L’homme-cerf et la femme araignée provides a further valuable study – one which takes a narrower focus than the two aforementioned works, but which within that dedicates a considerable portion to marine deities, specifically the shapeshifting episodes of Thetis, Proteus and Nereus, and their representations in Greek art.52 Frontisi-Ducroux goes into considerable depth and provides many valuable insights into, for instance, the spatial and temporal aspects of hybridity/metamorphosis. Due to her selective focus,53 Frontisi-Ducroux’s work does not consider figures such as Achelous, and visual representations are generally (though not always) preferred to textual sources. Most useful, for the purposes of my research, is her approach to considering shapeshifters (simply termed ‘divinités marines’), which focuses not on the need for an overarching term or issues of classification, but simply and clearly presents their shared attributes (of the select few chosen) and the varying ways in which they are depicted.

Another key study, which takes a different approach and one focused on aspects of Greek religion, is Emma Aston’s (2011) Mixanthrôpoi: Animal-human hybrid deities. This expansive work provides much extremely useful interpretation of cult images and the relationship of textual and visual representations of metamorphosis, much of which is relevant to this thesis. Shapeshifters (termed ‘shape-changers’ by Aston) are the object of several lines of exploration in this work, which considers their portrayal as hybrid deities in cult worship against their ‘hyper-metamorphic’ presentation in literature.54 Aston’s study necessarily takes a broader focus than is the intention of this work, both in terms of chronological

52 Frontisi-Ducroux (2003) esp. 23-59. 53 Frontisi-Ducroux (2003) 19: on Greek material, although she states that ‘il est impossible de se passer d’Ovide quand il est question de metamorphoses’, a point on which we differ. 54 Aston (2011) 280.

21 scope55 and the material discussed. In general, my work takes, for the most part, a more literary approach, but as with the works of Forbes Irving and Buxton, I aim similarly to build on Aston’s work by dealing in more depth with a smaller set of figures, for instance by breaking down the transformation sequence in order to explore its various associations and the impact of these on the shapeshifters, as I do in chapter 1.

The material in this thesis thus responds to the works detailed above, and seeks not to replace them but rather to supplement their too-brief treatments of shapeshifters (which are entirely understandable in light of their aim of surveying metamorphoses in a broad sense) with my own in-depth study, which will bring to light connections and themes previously unstudied, as I shall discuss in the following section.

iii. Methodology

In order to address successfully the aims outlined above, this thesis employs a range of approaches to explore the range of shapeshifters and their various portrayals. I consider the nature of shapeshifters in terms of the shapeshifting sequence as an episode-type, employed across genre and time period. Through this, I explore the echoes and reflections of this sequence in wider literature, both as a whole and in terms of its individual components. Employing the structural approach described above, the thesis takes a ‘model’ episode divided into its most significant and fruitful constituent parts. For instance, the lion transformation common to Proteus, Thetis, and Dionysus carries a wealth of associations drawn from the background of epic similes; the presence of this animal creates meaning in the shapeshifting episode which conjures specific images in the mind of the audience, and demands responsiveness on their part. Other factors, such as the gender and agency of the individual shapeshifters require close attention both to specific figures and the wider mythology of transformation; similarly, my approach allows for the inclusion of figures such as Dionysus through analysis of the structural elements of the myth. This leads me not only to consider literary sources,

55 Aston (2011) 50-1 notes that later sources may to reflect an earlier view; a similar understanding informs my approach and chosen scope of texts.

22 therefore, but additionally, where relevant, iconographical material – particularly where this hints at wider treatments of a myth than are extant in the Greek literary corpus.

The thesis is primarily a literary study, however, and thus it is my aim to explore the narrative significance and treatment of individual shapeshifters in order to discuss their inclusion by various poets and the roles into which they are placed. This literary approach still draws on myth and more anthropological approaches, for instance in considering the possible folktale associations of the episode-type, but this is a means of looking closely at the characterisation and narrative roles and functions of such characters, including their position in the story (e.g. as an antagonist or adversary) and patterns of behaviour which occur (e.g. attempted escape). Finally, it is my intention by including broad synoptic readings, structural and thematic approaches, along with close readings of specific characters, not only to treat the shapeshifters as individuals or indeed entirely as a homogeneous group, because much can be gained by identifying and analysing patterns and themes across depictions.

I shall now address in more detail each aspect of the methodology which underlines this study. These various underpinnings are employed throughout the thesis; the order in which I discuss them below is not reflective of their relative significance to my argument.

a. Structural approach

This thesis takes a broadly structural, diachronic approach as a means of reading the transformations of shapeshifters across a deliberately broad selection of authors and texts. Indeed, this approach largely formed the basis of my selection. In order to identify characters and episodes, I search for structural resemblances and evidence of mythological parallels. This approach, for example, allows for the easy and unambiguous identification of Thetis in Pindar’s fourth Nemean as a shapeshifter in the same vein as Proteus, although the language used differs and even the imagery varies. It is this method which justifies Dionysus’ inclusion in this group of figures, not simply because of the sea location or binding (which certainly

23 act as indicators) but additionally because of the presence of the motif of the pirates’ transformation into dolphins.

Structural parallels and binaries (e.g. human/divine, animal/human, sea/shore, theriomorphic/anthropomorphic,) further prove useful in understanding the presence of these characters and their episodes, the cultural and social anxieties which may influence the depiction of these characters, and the fascination they held for myth-makers and poets, which lies behind their widespread range of appearances. These oppositions are certainly at play in specific depictions of shapeshifters; for instance, in the contrast between Proteus’ ‘crafty skill’ (δολίης…τέχνης) and the infallible, unquestionable truthfulness (νημερτής) of his account to Menelaus. Structural parallels, moreover, allow for possible identification of shapeshifters such as Proteus, Thetis or even Mestra as quasi-monstrous figures (see chapter 2.3). Metamorphosis in general leads to anxieties of identity, and results in a disharmony between appearance and reality: this can be summed up by the presence of Circe’s transformed animals in Odyssey 10, whose unexpectedly friendly behaviour jars with the understanding of Odysseus and his men. The disruption of their expectations, which would place lions and wolves as hostile, is a source of horror for these characters.56 In fact, their response is suggestive of the unnatural nature of these animals (τοὶ δ᾽ ἔδεισαν, ἐπεὶ ἴδον αἰνὰ πέλωρα),57 a response which is echoed in the audience’s understanding and further developed after the revelation of Circe’s transformative powers. These predators which behave like tame dogs may not be animals at all, but other victims of the witch’s magic.58 In the case of shapeshifters, the possible issue of appearance vs reality is further complicated by the apparent ease with which the shapeshifter cycles through various forms, thus complicating even their original or ‘true’ shape. At the root of these shapeshifting sequences there lies, furthermore, an essential ‘problem’ – the nature of the being who transforms – an instability which is, potentially, only temporarily resolved at the end of the sequence.

For the purposes of my research, as discussed above, the myths involving shapeshifters belong to an ‘episode-type’. This type may occur in different contexts

56 Expectations which arise from their role in epic imagery, see e.g. Alden (2005), Magrath (1982) and chapter 1.2.ii on the impact of animal imagery on shapeshifting. 57 Od. 10.219, cf. chapter 2.3. 58 Cf. Vidal-Naquet (1986) 22-3.

24 and with different subjects or settings, but there are several essential features which must be present to some degree. The most important of these, I suggest, is the presence of multiple transformations bookended by an original anthropomorphic shape. There must also be some form of threat – these episodes do not occur to no purpose, but are a reaction to some external stimulus. There exists, too, a certain ‘character-type’ that is particularly well suited to these myths. This is typically the source of the connection to water, although this may be expressed externally to the character (for instance in the case of Dionysus, in whose episode the connection to water is expressed externally as the location of his shapeshifting). Thus, the water spirits, Proteus, Nereus and Thetis, are established as slippery, changeable characters through their connection to this element, and may freely transform even into water itself.

The presence of a water spirit, however, leads us to another methodological point: the relationship to folktales and to the tales of other mythological systems. The studies of Antti Aarne and Stith Thompson of the tale-types and motifs found in international tales provide an excellent starting point for a comparative study of Greek myth and folktale, an approach which I treat particularly in chapter 2.1. A comparative reading which explores resemblances and echoes of myth and folktale elements provides an additional perspective from which to consider shapeshifters and shapeshifter myths. Taking such motifs as the Swan Maiden (ST D361.1) who is in many variants prevented from shapeshifting, I explore the ways in which the motif may appear related to myths of shapeshifters (in this case Thetis) and thus reach a new and deeper understanding of the character. This approach is also particularly valuable for treating those shapeshifters who appear in some ways to be outliers, for instance Nemesis and Metis, and thus is useful as a means of going beyond discussions in which such figures may have been left to one side.

b. Inter- and intratextual connections

In addition to searching for broad, structural patterns and parallels, I also make use of an intertextual approach, as I consider the literary connections of certain depictions. To this end, I have considered throughout the presence of intertextual connections and allusions, particularly when treating the Hellenistic depictions of these figures. I restrict myself here to intertextuality, since I am not so much

25 concerned with authorial intention but rather wish to explore the echoes and reflections of various episodes through the literary tradition.59 Similarly, I explore motifs and episodes in the Homeric works and the fragments of the epic cycle not in order to reconstruct a tradition of allusivity,60 but to compare differing appearances and treatments of the episode-type.

This methodology underlies many of my chapters, even where I do not make explicit comparison. In discussing, for instance, the portrayal in the Cypria of Nemesis’ transformations and those of Proteus in the Odyssey, I do not seek to suggest which myth arose first or to find an origin in either; rather, I take the view that these are different and yet related iterations of the same episode-type, which we can find also in folktale themes. In considering Thetis’ portrayal as a mother- figure, however, I make more explicit use of this intertextual approach in order to find connections between Apollonius’ portrayal of Thetis in relation to her attempt to ensure Achilles’ immortality and the problematic depiction of her we find elsewhere, for instance the more troubling story presented in Lycophron’s Alexandra.61 An intertextual approach allows for analysis of the modelling of Thetis’ character on Demeter, a connection which is present both in the structure of the myths and in individual poets’ treatment of these figures. In addition, I frequently consider intratextual connections, particularly with reference to the Odyssey, in order to understand the compositional use of these figures.62 These intratextual connections may be in the form of shared linguistic features or repetitions or through the narrative doubling and paralleling of certain characters, for instance Odysseus and Telemachus in the Odyssey. I also make use of, at times, a narratological approach to the texts, as I consider the impact of focalisation and the position of the narrator in relation to the narrative and their characters.63 In

59 See Hinds (1998) passim and 48-9 on the aim of an intertextualist reading ‘de-emphasizing the irretrievable moment of authorial production in favour of a more democratic stress upon plural moments of readerly consumption – on the grounds that, in practice, meaning is always constructed at the point of reception.’ See also Sharrock (2000) 24-7 on the relationship of inter- and intratextuality. 60 In contrast to e.g. the approach of Currie (2016). 61 Lyc. 178-9. 62 That is to say, as Sharrock (2000) 6-7 puts it, ‘readings of the relationships between the parts, and the reading of those parts as parts, and parts as relationship’. See Sharrock and Morales (2000). 63 As theorised by e.g. Genette (1980). See de Jong (2001) and Morrison (2007b) for application of this methodology to the Odyssey and the interaction of Hellenistic and archaic poetry respectively, cf. Liveley (2019).

26 each case, as is also true of my structural approach, my reading through these lenses is intended to explore the associations and understandings which a reader or audience brings to a text.

c. The reader

In discussing inter- and intratextual themes this analysis assumes an audience or ‘reader’64 who is experienced, to a reasonable extent knowledgeable about the mythological and epic context of the works, and attentive. This reader will notice or perceive intertextual links and parallels and stock elements where they occur, such as the motif of the hero wandering alone away from his companions, and as such these motifs will generate connections in the reader’s mind, which allow them to gain a deeper understanding of the texts, such as will be presented in this thesis. Alternatively, through an awareness of the general context and a familiarity with the epic cycle and surrounding mythology,65 a reader may unconsciously respond to intertextual stimuli. Regarding intratextual links, this thesis assumes again an experienced reader, and a responsive, attentive one, able, 66 to a reasonable extent, to recognise surface or explicit narrative patterns and thus make connections where, the thesis assumes, the author or composer had intended these to be perceived. To some extent, this thesis also accounts for a less experienced (but still attentive) reader, as I explore surface patterns which are visible even to such a reader, and which influence their horizon of expectations.67 These patterns, particularly when presented as a linear experience in the text, allow the author/poet to manipulate the reader’s expectations, fulfilling or delaying

64 I shall use the terms ‘reader’ and ‘audience’ interchangeably throughout the thesis to refer both to the (presumably) ancient reader established in the following outline, who may receive the texts either orally or written down, and the more modern reader receiving the text in the forms presented in this thesis. See, e.g., Baragwanath (2008) 6. 65 As with any text, those concerned with, for instance, the Trojan cycle, epic heroes, or the Olympian deities, do not exist in a literary or cultural vacuum, but are informed by and related to a vast range of other texts and stories which, in the case of the Greek mythological background, may be cultural orally related tales rather than written ‘texts’ but nonetheless shape the reader’s understanding. See Jauss (1982). 66 Sharrock (2000) 5. 67 As defined by Jauss (1982) 23: ‘A literary work … predisposes its audience to a very specific kind of reception … It awakens memories of that which was already read, brings the reader to a specific emotional attitude, and with its beginning arouses expectations … which can then be maintained or altered, reoriented, or even fulfilled ironically in the course of the reading.’

27 resolution, or colouring the progression of the narrative.68 Just as in re-reading a novel, for instance, we may notice and enjoy clues hinting at the story’s conclusion,69 an experienced reader of the Homeric works, aware of the themes, events, and characters tying any particular tale into the larger body of Greek myth, may notice clues and inter- and intratextual patterns in the telling of a work.

The impact of re-performance or re-reading of specific texts is a key issue here: through repeated exposure, not only does a reader naturally become more experienced, but they are able to return to an earlier point in the narrative (e.g. Proteus’ appearance in Odyssey 4) with the knowledge of later ramifications of the episode.70 For such a reader, attentive, experienced, and actively engaging with the process of storytelling through re-performance and knowledge, non-linear patterns become available; through this, the reader is at times invited to make interpretation of the text – reading in such a way is not a passive exercise but rather demands active involvement with the text at hand.71 It is primarily from this perspective, of a reader with knowledge of the Odyssey, the Iliad and the Argonautica, for example, that this thesis makes its analysis.72

d. Reader response and the horizon of expectations

With this reader in mind, this thesis approaches the episodes and texts considered in terms of their effect on the reader or audience, particularly as defined by Jauss as

68 We see this, for instance, in the deliberate parallel between Odysseus’ intrusion into Polyphemus’ cave and Odysseus’ massacre of the suitors, where the theme of hospitality which is so prominent throughout the text is thrown into sharp relief and problematized, and where the violence is both times heralded by a lion simile generating unflattering links between hero and monster. Here, any somewhat experienced reader is led by the poem’s very structure to be influenced by these connections and invited, for a moment, to consider the nature of Odysseus’ actions, while a more attentive, experienced and active reader – and certainly a re-reader – may even look back to Polyphemus’ actions in this new light. For Odysseus’ and Polyphemus’ connection through lion similes see, e.g., Brelinski (2015), Magrath (1982). For the hospitality theme and its inversion see, e.g., Bakker (2013), Hopman (2012), Hutchinson (2007). See Iser (1978) 109 and 116-17 on the ‘wandering viewpoint’ inherent in the relationship of reader and text, which he differentiates from the relationship of viewer and viewed, subject and object. 69 Sharrock (1994) 19. 70 Iser (1978) 107-134 discusses the process of reading as a collaboration between text and reader. See esp. 116-17 for his discussion of recollection and context. 71 Baragwanath (2008) 33, 43; Iser (1978) 108 suggests that the pleasure of reading lies in the reader’s productivity regarding the text and interpretation. 72 In making such demands of a reader, I follow Baragwanath’s (2008) 6n.15 consideration of the more practised original audience, as opposed to modern audiences.

28 the ‘horizon of expectations’.73 If a reader – or, indeed, a reader-poet74 – is able to recognise an episode-type, what effect does this have on their response to the character? Similarly, what effect does knowledge of the mythic background have on the reader? Pindar’s depiction of Thetis, for instance, clearly relies on a background knowledge of the myth – without this, one would not necessarily be able to reconstruct the transformation cycle, but might instead understand the lions and fire which Peleus encounters as some form of physical obstacle or guard, a ‘labour’ to overcome, rather than physical transformations undergone by his potential bride. As Jauss writes,

The method of historical reception is indispensable for the understanding of literature from the distant past. When the author of a work is unknown, his intent undeclared, and his relationship to sources and models only indirectly accessible, the philological question of how the text is "properly" – that is, from its intention and time – to be understood can best be answered if one foregrounds it against those works that the author explicitly or implicitly presupposed his contemporary audience to know.75

This is my purpose in theorising a knowledgeable reader – it is necessary to recognise not only the potential for understanding and interpretation, but also its limits. This consideration also lends itself to the ‘double’ nature of my approach: consideration of the mythic background lends coherence to the themes and structures underlying various depictions, and a reliance on this knowledge can be found in, for instance, Pindar’s works, but inter- and particularly intratextual readings allow for closer examination of shared themes and characteristics available to a reader.

e. Cultural expectations

Finally, these characters do not exist in a cultural vacuum, as I have already discussed, and while they may stem from myth or folktale, cultural or social concerns must naturally have affected some attributes of their appearance in Greek poetry. Figures such as Circe or Calypso in the Odyssey are not only marginal because of their geographical location or supernatural status, but because they

73 Jauss (1982) 23. 74 For instance, Apollonius, whose awareness of and response to Homer is not in question. 75 Jauss (1982) 28.

29 exist outside recognisable social structures. Thetis, likewise, is to an extent alien not only because of her propensity for shapeshifting, but because of her ambivalent attitude to motherhood – as I will show, however, these factors of her characterisation are inherently linked and mutually reinforce one another.

iv. Outline of approach and chapters

In order to carry out this analytical survey of shapeshifters in Greek poetry, the thesis takes a broadly thematic approach which allows for the connections between various depictions of these figures to be brought into focus. This diachronic reading additionally provides a way in which to approach shared motifs and structural patterns, such as the presentation of ‘transferred metamorphosis’ or depictions of Thetis as an ambivalent mother figure. The overall structure is divided into three main chapters (excluding Introduction and Conclusion); these are: 1. Transformations; 2. Characterisation and narrative role; and 3. Synoptic readings. Of these, the first two form the bulk of the thesis and are comprised of close thematic and theoretical readings from various viewpoints, while the third and smallest chapter comprises two synoptic readings focusing respectively on Proteus and Thetis.

1. Transformations

This first chapter is split into three further sections; in the first, I present a survey of some key issues of transformations more widely, namely the distinction and impact of transforming vs being transformed, a highly important opposition when considering shapeshifters; and the significance of gender and agency to these portrayals, including the impact of transformations on the identity of the shapeshifters. It is useful to consider the depiction of shapeshifters against other genres of metamorphosis occurring in the same works in order to view the ways in which this group is distinguished and distanced from, for example, transformations of other gods and transformed mortals. Secondly, I present a close, in-depth reading of the transformation sequence and the variations which can be seen within this, focusing on the nature and meaning of the forms which shapeshifters assume. This is split broadly into two categories, animals and elements. Thirdly, I

30 consider the phenomenon of ‘transferred metamorphosis’, which can be observed in the transformation sequences of Proteus and Dionysus, and in the artistic representations of Thetis’ transformation, in order to argue for Dionysus’ unproblematic inclusion in this group of figures. This occurrence, I suggest, is a feature of the shapeshifting sequence itself, one which further separates these figures from more typical instances of metamorphosis; it arises from the aura of instability surrounding certain shapeshifters, and can be used to observe connections between depictions.

2. Characterisation and Narrative Role

The next chapter of the thesis is similarly split into three further sections which together allow me to explore the depiction of shapeshifters as characters within narratives. First, I present a comparative study considering resemblances and parallels to shapeshifter myths found in international tales. This approach offers new avenues through which to explore the Greek literary portrayals and some specific aspects in particular, including the model of ambushing a water-based creature in order to discover hidden knowledge, and the interaction with or worship of animal-gods and other hybrid deities. This discussion will next lead us on to consider further elements of their characterisation, including the treatment of their proximity to water, the depiction of shapeshifters in the role of the Trickster, and the inherent weaknesses of their transformation sequences. Finally, I close this chapter with a reading of our shapeshifters against the characteristics of monsters of Greek myth, in order to draw out the relationship of metamorphosis to hybridity and to make sense of their often-antagonistic role in the narratives in which they appear.

3. Synoptic Readings

My final chapter takes a different focus, as I shift my attention to readings of the two figures most prominent in the rest of the thesis and indeed in Greek poetry, Proteus and Thetis. First, I explore the impact of Proteus’ shapeshifting episode on the wider narrative of the Odyssey, which is manifested in a great number of parallels and inversions which tie the episode and Proteus’ depiction into the epic’s

31 patterns. Secondly, I present a study of Thetis as an ambivalent mother figure which considers her relationship with Achilles in comparison to her rescue of and role as a substitute mother to Dionysus and Hephaestus, two gods whom she is reported to have rescued and nurtured when they fell or were thrown into the sea. As a more developed character with a mythic background beyond that of her shapeshifting (unlike Proteus), Thetis’ role as a mother is, I shall show, inextricably linked to her role as a shapeshifter and potential challenger to Zeus’ cosmic order.

32 Chapter 1: Transformations

In this first chapter, I discuss some critical issues surrounding the transformation sequence of shapeshifters, its components, and its presentation in various texts, in order to identify the background of transformations against which depictions of shapeshifters operate and to identify the complexities and key associations found in shapeshifting episodes. Of course, we cannot entirely separate this from issues of character development and role, nor indeed should we; however, the aspects of character that I discuss in the first section of this chapter – gender, agency, and identity – will be considered in relation to the act or event of transformation. I shall consider these aspects of character through the lens of transformation in order to assess the impact a transformation episode might have on the treatment and understanding of a character in the narrative, for instance to explore the semantic difference between transforming and being transformed and how the associations surrounding this distinction might lead the audience to respond to a certain character in a particular manner.

The second and third sections of this chapter will move away from issues related to character (as far as possible) by breaking down depictions (both literary and, secondarily, visual) of the transformation episode as a motif. Through these sections I shall explore the significances of individual episodes’ constituent parts, namely the animal and elemental forms assumed and the presence of ‘transferred metamorphosis’, a feature unique, I suggest, to shapeshifters, which allows us to see greater affinity between Dionysus’ appearance in his Homeric Hymn and Proteus’ transformation episode.

33 1.1 Survey of transformations

αὐτός τοι Ζεύς εἰμι, κεἰ ἐγγύθεν εἴδομαι εἶναι ταῦρος, ἐπεὶ δύναμαί γε φανήμεναι ὅττι θέλοιμι.

Moschus, Europa, 155-6

i. Transforming vs transformed a. Genres of transformation

First, this chapter will discuss some of the issues surrounding transformation (outlined in the Introduction) in order to identify the background against which shapeshifters can be read. After all, while it is the aim of this thesis to discuss these figures as a distinct group, they exist within a much wider mythic tradition of metamorphosis. As such, it is necessary to consider the various types of transformation which occur, the linguistic terms used to indicate transformation, and the relationship of transformation to disguise. Within this tradition of metamorphosis, however, not all transformations are equal. As I discussed in the Introduction, there is a key conceptual difference between transforming oneself or others and being transformed. Some characters in Greek myth – for instances witches and gods – have the ability to alter their form or those of others for their own gain, while for mortals transformation is something to which one may be subjected, and is typically – though not always, as I shall explore – decidedly negative. I do not aim here to present a full catalogue of transformations,76 but simply a selective summary in order to articulate some key points.

Gods frequently transform or disguise themselves (a distinction which I address below) in order to communicate with or deceive mortals, as Deborah Steiner writes: ‘Fundamental to the Greek view of divinity is the reluctance of gods and goddesses to show themselves directly to the eyes of men,’77 a reluctance

76 Several wide surveys have already been made; two can be found in Forbes Irving (1990) and Buxton (2009). 77 Steiner (2001) 80.

34 which is inextricably linked to the dangers of divine epiphany.78 This dynamic is perfectly illustrated in Odysseus’ complaint to Athene in Odyssey 13:

ἀργαλέον σε, θεά, γνῶναι βροτῷ ἀντιάσαντι, καὶ μάλ᾽ ἐπισταμένῳ· σὲ γὰρ αὐτὴν παντὶ ἐΐσκεις.79

Athene, indeed, is prone to disguising herself in the Odyssey: for instance, she appears to Telemachus in the guise of Mentes,80 in order to push the young hero on his journey to discover the whereabouts of his father. Later, she appears to Odysseus, who has just (unknowingly) arrived on Ithaca, in the form of a young shepherd.81 These two appearances – although in similar shapes – are quite different in character. Athene approaches Telemachus in a mortal appearance as a form of mediation, one which is common to divine-mortal interactions.82 This is not – or not entirely – true of her appearance to Odysseus. In this case, the goddess’ aim is to trick the hero, and she delights in the success of this: οὐδὲ σύ γ᾽ ἔγνως / Παλλάδ᾽ Ἀθηναίην.83

Zeus, of course, transforms many times in order to pursue mortal women, for instance in his abduction of Europa above, in which he states the extent of his abilities: δύναμαί γε φανήμεναι ὅττι θέλοιμι. In this case, as well as those of Athene in the Odyssey, the issue is overwhelmingly one of power dynamics, regardless of motivation. There is still a theme of mediation, as seen by the instances in which Zeus’ disguise fails (as in Semele’s case),84 but this is inherently tied to the imbalance of power between deities and mortals, thematised in the motif of

78 Unmitigated divine epiphany may result in transformation, blindness, or even death, as, for instance, in Semele’s case, E. Ba. 6-9, cf. Apollod. 3.4.3. References to Semele’s tomb are many in the Bacchae and serve as a reminder within the tragedy of the danger of divine epiphany, as noted by Gregory (1985) 26, which is inherently linked to Dionysus’ divinity, see Wyles (2016) 61. See also Hamilton (1974) 146-7. In this case, as Buxton (2009) 158-9 notes, it is the absence of metamorphosis here which causes Semele’s death, as without it ‘nothing mitigates Zeus’ power’. On the danger of divine epiphany see Steiner (2001) 80-81, Platt (2011) 64-8, Petridou (2016) 26-7. 79 Od. 13.312-13. 80 Od. 1.103-5 and ff. The name here is crucial, as it is by impersonating a person known to Telemachus and Odysseus that Athene convinces the young hero to act, contra de Jong (2014) 150. 81 Od. 13.221-5. 82 See Aston (2011) 313, Buxton (2009) 158-60. 83 Od. 13.299-300. It is no coincidence that Odysseus is a Trickster; this interaction and Athene’s deception of the hero emphasises the hierarchical relationship between the two. However, as Steiner (2001) 80 discusses, Athene’s self-revelation here elevates Odysseus to a privileged position among mortals. 84 See n.78.

35 transformation. For the Olympian gods, this tendency towards metamorphosis, as Bettini suggests, paradoxically reinforces and complicates their anthropomorphic nature.85

Mortals, unlike gods, do not often have a say in their metamorphoses, and to be transformed is – typically – figured as a form of loss or reduction.86 Thus, when Io, turned into a cow, laments her fate to Prometheus,87 and when the Phaeacians see their ship – turned to stone by Poseidon – disappear, and with it, presumably, the sailors,88 there is considerable pathos generated through the audience’s alignment with the mortal victims of transformation, and, in the case of the Phaeacians, additionally by the focalisation of those viewing the transformation and their inability to comprehend the event (τὰ δ᾽ οὐκ ἴσαν ὡς ἐτέτυκτο).89 In this second case, as also with the transformation of Niobe and her fellow villagers into stone, transformation is figured as a substitute for death.90 Poseidon’s petrification of the Phaeacian ship is one example of a punitive transformation and one which showcases his unrelenting and unfair persecution of Odysseus and those who help him – Polyphemus, who kills and eats several of Odysseus’ crewmembers in a violent display of bad xenia, is favoured by Poseidon over the Phaeacians whose positive relationship with the gods is clearly established along with their adherence to xenia.91 Dionysus, too, is a god prone to transformative acts of revenge, for instance in his treatment of Pentheus in Euripides’ Bacchae, which plays with ideas of perception, appearance, identity, and transformation, and blurs the boundaries

85 Bettini (2016) 33. 86 See Vidal-Naquet (1986) 19, 22-3 on the hierarchy of human-domestic animal-wild animal in Od. 9. 87 A. Pr. 673-9. 88 Od. 13.163-9. Contrary to Forbes Irving’s (1990) 8-9 suggestion that the sailors might not be transformed (or if they are, that this is simply incidental in Poseidon’s action), I argue that this simply does not tie into the narrative of punishment which is presented here through Poseidon’s transformation. His anger and intent to harm the Phaeacians is emphatically presented (13.149-52), and the violence of his action (and the anger behind it) is mirrored in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo in Hera’s gesture of striking the ground prior to conceiving Typhon, which is a striking linguistic parallel (Od. 13.164 χειρὶ καταπρηνεῖ ἐλάσας ≈ h.Ap. 334 χειρὶ καταπρηνεῖ δ᾽ ἔλασε). Moreover, the remark of the Phaeacians on land, καὶ δὴ προὐφαίνετο πᾶσα (13.169), suggests that the ship has vanished from sight, perhaps because it no longer resembles a ship, being made of stone (although this would surely defeat the point of Poseidon’s warning), or because it has sunk – certainly, the ship which was returning has been prevented from doing so, and we cannot expect that the sailors have escaped this attack. 89 Il. 13.170. 90 Il. 24.610-17. See Thumiger (2014) 384. 91 Od. 7.201-3.

36 between these concepts,92 as exemplified in Dionysus’ remark to Pentheus in his women’s dress: πρέπεις δὲ Κάδμου θυγατέρων μορφὴν μιᾷ.93 This transformation, if indeed it is one, brings Pentheus closer to the tragic end of the play, the sparagmos at the hands of his mother and aunts.

Revenge also plays a role in Hecabe’s prophesied transformation into a dog, which follows her attack on Polymestor and her murder of his children.94 Hecabe will become ‘a dog with fiery eyes’ (κύων γενήσῃ πύρσ᾽ ἔχουσα δέργματα, 1265), an image compatible with her actions and characterisation by this point in the play.95 The term used here, γενήσῃ, does not indicate cause (as I shall discuss in more depth shortly), but the close positioning of this revelation to her actions seems to imply a causal link – particularly since the image of having fire in one’s eyes is linked to violence.96 This transformation is also present in Lycophron’s Alexandra,97 where it is clearly linked to an association with Hecate and the negative outcome of this transformation is emphasised by Cassandra’s plaintive address: ὦ μῆτερ, ὦ δύσμητερ.98 The motif of predicted transformation is also present in the Bacchae, as Dionysus tells Cadmus that he is fated to become a snake: δράκων γενήσῃ μεταβαλών.99

Circe’s transformation of Odysseus’ men100 may be read as punitive or defensive; the act has the dual effect of punishing those who intrude on her

92 See Segal (1986) 37-8, 298-301; Wyles (2016) 60 and 65. 93 E. Ba. 917. Similarly, Dionysus refers to ‘seeming to be’ at 823 (ἢν ἀνὴρ ὀφθῇς ἐκεῖ) and 914 (ὄφθητί μοι). I shall return to the issue of Dionysiac transformations below, chapter 1.3. 94 E. Hec. 1259-73. 95 See Battezzato (2018) ad 1252-95. 96 This may suggest monstrosity (e.g. Hes. Th. 826-8 of Typhon) or the violent anger of heroic aristeia (e.g. Hector’s unstoppable fury at Il. 12.466: πυρὶ δ᾽ ὄσσε δεδήει, cf. the boar simile given to Idomeneus at Il. 13.471-5, whose eyes blaze: πυρὶ λάμπετον), which itself is a product of their superhuman nature. On the assaultive heroic gaze, see Lovatt (2013) esp. 315-18, Turkeltaub (2005); cf. Lonsdale (1989). The focus on Hecabe’s fiery eyes contrasts with the eyes of the blinded Polymestor, who takes on the role of the prophet; on the interrelation between sight, pollution and blinding see Steiner (1995) passim and 195, 204-5 on the blinding of Polymestor specifically. 97 Lyc. 1174-7. 98 Lyc. 1174. Hornblower (2015) ad loc. notes that this plays on Od. 23.97 and is both epic and tragic in nature. 99 E. Ba. 1330-4: Harmonia’s transformation is rendered differently (δάμαρ τε σὴ / ἐκθηριωθεῖσ᾽ ὄφεος ἀλλάξει τύπον), figured in the language of an exchange, but this can be explained by the fact that Dionysus refers to her as Cadmus’ wife. Instead of his human wife, he will receive in exchange the form of a snake. 100 Od. 10.237-43.

37 island101 and of ensuring that she will not be attacked. Unlike those discussed above, moreover, Circe’s transformations – if she wishes – are reversible, and indeed, rather uniquely, the men benefit from this by being made younger and better looking once returned to human form.102 Unlike most animal transformations, which involve degradation or loss, these men experience an upgrade of sorts. This does not entirely mitigate the horror of their reduction to animal form, however, which is clearly established: when transformed, Odysseus’ men retain their human minds and weep (κλαίοντες), unable to act to save themselves. Io, transformed by Zeus,103 is placed in a similarly pitiful state, having lost her human appearance (though not her mind) and being tormented by a gadfly. Other defensive transformations include that of Daphne, prominent in Ovid’s Metamorphoses but attested earlier in Greek art and in a myth attributed to Phylarchus,104 and those of the shapeshifters, who – as discussed – tend to transform themselves when confronted by a mortal aggressor, and whose shapeshifting is thus figured as an escape attempt. Again, here, there is a distinction – the shapeshifters are able to transform themselves, even if these escape attempts for the most part fail, while mortals must rely on a deity to protect them.

Finally, another ‘genre’ of transformation of interest is that of the leap into the sea, a motif which appears in the myths of Ino, Glaucos, Hecabe, Dionysus, and Hephaestus. For Ino, this leap, made in an attempt to escape her husband, results in deification and transformation into Leucothea;105 Glaucos, on the other hand, makes his leap willingly, having discovered a herb (πόα)106 which will render him immortal, although in this case the transformation is physical as well, and results in a Triton-esque appearance.107 This motif is also present in Hecabe’s transformation, although here the motif is inverted as she has already

101 We might compare other instances of goddesses transforming (typically) male intruders or accidental onlookers, e.g. Actaeon (E. Ba. 337-40, A. fr.244, Call. Lav.Pall. 108-115). On this, see Gregory (1985) 24-6 and on the development of the Actaeon myth see Schlam (1984) esp. 95-7. 102 Od. 10.393-6. 103 A. Pr. 673-9. 104 Ov. Met. 1.543-52; LIMC s.v. “Daphne”. The myth is related by Parthenius (Narr. Am. 15) who attributes it to Phylarchus, FGrH 81 F 32a: ὡς δὲ συνεδιώκετο, παρὰ Διὸς αἰτεῖται ἐξ ἀνθρώπων ἀπαλλαγῆναι· καὶ αὐτήν φασι γενέσθαι τὸ δένδρον τὸ ἐπικληθὲν ἀπ᾿ ἐκείνης δάφνην. 105 Od. 5.333-5; Pi. O. 2.28-30. 106 A. frr. 26-29 (Radt), cf. Pl. R. 611d. 107 See Aston (2011) 76-7, 163-4.

38 transformed108 and the leap into the sea cements simultaneously her death and the fullness of her transformation: after this action, she will only be referred to as ‘the dog’. The pirates of Dionysus’ Homeric Hymn are also transformed in relation to a leap into the sea,109 an escape attempt comparable to Ino’s, but one with a far less positive outcome. In every case, this leap results in an irreversible transformation, similarly to those of mortals above. I shall discuss the significance of water below (chapter 2.2.i) – and the sea ‘leaps’ of Hephaestus and Dionysus – but for now it will suffice to note that there is a clear distinction between possessing the qualities and changeability of water, and being affected by contact with the element.

b. Linguistic details

There is no single word or phrase in Greek which exclusively denotes transformation, and indeed the Greeks may not have thought of ‘transformations’ as a distinct category of event,110 although the common associations discussed above (the various motivations for or effects of transformations on mortals) certainly suggest an understanding of the transformation of mortals as a distinct motif. Some words and phrases recur – especially γίγνομαι, ποῖω and τίθημι, although this is by no means exhaustive.111 Of these, ποῖω and τίθημι show direct cause, and unambiguously signal the action of a god or supernatural figure causing another figure to transform.112 On the other hand, γίγνομαι is purely intransitive, and as we might expect (and as I mentioned in the Introduction), this verb is used most commonly in depictions of shapeshifters, but also occurs elsewhere in transformations where the cause is left ambiguous, for instance Hecabe’s transformation into a dog, discussed above, and that of the sailors into dolphins in the seventh Homeric Hymn.113 Its prominence in depictions of shapeshifting

108 But see Battezzato ad 1263 who notes that her ability to climb the mast must indicate some rather troubling vestiges of humanity. 109 h.Bacch. 51-3. 110 Frontisi-Ducroux (2003) 20. 111 Circe, for example, ‘enchants’ her victims (κατέθελξεν, Od. 10.213) and hits them with her wand, after drugging them, while Hecabe simply refers to her transformation as a μετάστασις, a ‘change’ (LSJ s.v. μετάστασις A.II.2, cf. E. Andr. 1003-4: μετάστασις / γνώμης). 112 E.g. Zeus’ transformation of Niobe’s fellow villagers at Il. 24.611: λαοὺς δε λίθους ποίησε Κρονίων; Poseidon’s petrification of the Phaeacian ship at Od. 13.163: ὅς μιν λᾶαν ἔθηκε. 113 h.Bacch. 53.

39 episodes – those of Proteus, Dionysus, and Empousa, for instance114 – is indicative of a pattern of use, and is, I suggest, one way of identifying shapeshifters.

Forbes Irving has argued likewise,115 although his distinction that words signifying ‘seem’ or ‘appear’ are used for the transformations of the Olympians and γίγνομαι for shapeshifters does not sufficiently take into account the variances which occur (since γίγνομαι is not the only term used to describe shapeshifters’ transformations).116 This point does bear further investigation, however, as it is possible to draw linguistic distinctions between the transformations of shapeshifters or mortals and those of gods in disguise, and Forbes Irving’s point is not altogether undermined by exceptions to his rule.117

Words for ‘appearing’ or ‘seeming to be’ do indeed often feature in the transformations of gods when they appear before mortals and in descriptions of movement, particularly when gods are likened to birds.118 In the Iliad, Iris speaks to Priam in the form of the king’s son Polites (ἐεισαμένη);119 Athene appears in the form of Laodacus (ἀνδρὶ ἰκέλη);120 and Hypnos hides from Zeus, perching on a tree in the form of a bird (ὄρνιθι λιγυρῇ ἐναλίγκιος),121 a form also employed by Athene and Apollo (ὄρνισιν ἐοικότες).122 These instances are all self-willed, and – in the case of gods appearing before mortals – present the transformation as an element of the mortal-divine power dynamic. It is significant that these instances are all signalled by words suggesting similarity or appearance;123 references to gods appearing as birds may be understood as to some extent metaphorical expressions,

114 Proteus: Od. 4.417, 418, 456, 458; Dionysus: h.Bacch. 44; Empousa, Ar. Ra. 289: παντοδαπὸν γοῦν γίγνεται. 115 Forbes Irving (1990) 171. 116 Nereus’ transformations are described by Pherecydes (FGrH 3 F 16a) using quite different terms: μεταφορέω, καθίστημι and δηλόω; Nemesis is described in the Cypria (fr.10; Ath. 334b) with γίγνομαι: γίνετο δ᾿ αἰεί / θηρί᾿, ὅσ᾿ ἤπειρος αἰνὰ τρέφει; but her transformation into a fish is described both with μεταμορφόω: εἰς ἰχθὺν μεταμορφουμένην, and εἴδομαι: ἰχθύϊ εἰδομένην. 117 Buxton’s (2009) 170 response to Forbes Irving’s suggestion, that there is ‘no philological support for the view that a god simply seems to change whereas a ‘shapeshifter’ becomes something else’ (emphasis Buxton’s) is, in my view, too much of an extreme on the other side. As we shall see, this distinction is actually very useful in examining the transformations of shapeshifters against those of Olympian deities. 118 See Buxton (2009) 34-7. 119 Il. 2.790-5. 120 Il. 4.86-8. 121 Il. 14.286-91 122 Il. 7.58-61. 123 E.g. ἔοικα, ἴκελος, εἴδομαι. Cf. Zeus’ transformation into a bull in Moschus’ Europa given above, where Zeus draws a distinction between his appearance (signalled by the verb εἴδομαι) and his true identity (signalled by εἰμι).

40 while appearances in mortal form may be ‘transformations’ in terms of changed appearance, but each instance is figured as a temporary disguise with no resultant change of ‘self’. As Aston writes of these and similar instances:

‘the form of the deity is not unlike that which all the evidence encourages us to think of as their 'normal' one, and yet some word or phrase… suggests that… the adoption of a temporary guise is what is being described.’124

c. Transformation and disguise

At this point, it is worth considering in more depth the distinction between disguising and transforming oneself. As stated above, in considering self- transformations, or literary instances of transformation where the agent is left ambiguous (e.g. Hecabe’s metamorphosis), there is a broad linguistic difference between the representations of the transformations of gods appearing to mortals and the transformations of shapeshifters. Depictions of transforming gods are many125 – for the purposes of this discussion I shall consider Athene’s appearances in the Odyssey, which draw on the same narrative context as Proteus’ transformations. The goddess’ transformations discussed above are signalled by the words εἰδομένη and εἰκυῖα respectively,126 while her apparent transformation127 into a bird when leaving Telemachus is introduced simply with the phrase ὄρνις δ᾽ ὣς ἀνόπαια διέπτατο.128 In contrast, Proteus’ transformations are signalled in each case by γίγνομαι. This, I suggest, has more to do with the intent which the text attributes to each act than with the reality (or lack thereof) of each deity’s transformation. Athene’s transformations are carried out with the intention of mediating the divine/mortal barrier and temporarily disguising her identity;129 in appearing to Odysseus, as stated above, the goddess delights in her ability to trick the mortal Trickster, while in appearing to Telemachus Athene not

124 Aston (2011) 313. 125 In addition to those given above, we find the more developed transformation-disguises of e.g. Aphrodite: h.Ven. 81-3, and Demeter: h.Cer. 101-4, 275-80. 126 Od. 1.103-5 and 13.221-5. 127 This has been a point of considerable difficulty for commentators: Buxton (2010) 82-3 provides a summary and response to this debate. 128 Od. 1.320. 129 See Aston (2011) 313. De Jong (2001) 16-17 ad 96-324 describes the forms taken on by gods in ‘god meet mortal’ scenes as ‘masks’, carefully chosen to have the desired effect on the mortal addressee.

41 only alters her form (perhaps to avoid the destructive effects of unmitigated divine epiphany) but does so in order to impersonate a (narratively) real, named individual, Mentes. Despite the explicit assumption of Mentes’ name here (Μέντης Ἀγχιάλοιο δαΐφρονος εὔχομαι εἶναι / υἱός),130 and the forms of various other characters in her interactions with Odysseus, however, Athene remains herself and is referred to as such by the poet.131 This change is one of appearance; we might compare Athene’s alteration of Odysseus’ appearance in Book 6. On appearing to Nausicaa and her handmaidens, Odysseus is initially likened to a mountain lion,132 a simile which serves to emphasis the wildness of his appearance, further developed in the narrator’s description of the hero: σμερδαλέος δ᾽ αὐτῇσι φάνη κεκακωμένος ἅλμῃ.133 Odysseus seems terrible to look at because he is encrusted with salt; this is not a disguise per se but an instance of a misleading appearance. After he bathes, however, Athene further alters Odysseus’ appearance:

τὸν μὲν Ἀθηναίη θῆκεν Διὸς ἐκγεγαυῖα μείζονά τ᾽ εἰσιδέειν καὶ πάσσονα, κὰδ δὲ κάρητος οὔλας ἧκε κόμας, ὑακινθίνῳ ἄνθει ὁμοίας. ὡς δ᾽ ὅτε τις χρυσὸν περιχεύεται ἀργύρῳ ἀνὴρ ἴδρις, ὃν Ἥφαιστος δέδαεν καὶ Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη τέχνην παντοίην, χαρίεντα δὲ ἔργα τελείει, ὣς ἄρα τῷ κατέχευε χάριν κεφαλῇ τε καὶ ὤμοις.134

Here, the term used (θῆκεν) renders this potentially a form of transformation, but one which is centred on Odysseus’ appearance (μείζονά τ᾽ εἰσιδέειν). It is unclear whether this is a true alteration of Odysseus’ form, or simply Athene undoing the damage to his body which had resulted in his being σμερδαλέος before; the reference to making him ‘mightier’ or ‘stouter’ (πάσσονα) could simply indicate appearance rather than a physical transformation.135 This ‘transformation’ is

130 Od. 1.180-1. Contra de Jong (2014) 150, Athene’s taking on of Mentes’ name is an important aspect of her appearance to Telemachus. 131 Athene is referred to by name, e.g. Od. 1.314: τὸν δ᾽ ἠμείβετ᾽ ἔπειτα θεά, γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη, and, while in the form of Mentes is referred to in the feminine (τήν) at 1.306 and 13.226 although she refers to herself in the masculine, e.g. υἱός at 1.181, γεραίτερος at 3.3.362. de Jong (2001) ad 13.226 describes this as an instance of paralepsis indicating the ‘true identity’ of the disguised Athene. 132 Od. 6.130-6. 133 Od. 6.137. 134 Od. 6.229-35. 135 This line is recalled at 8.20, when Athene makes Odysseus ‘taller and mightier to look upon’ (μιν μακρότερον καὶ πάσσονα θῆκεν ἰδέσθαι) where the emphasis is again placed on the act of seeing the hero. This does not call into question Circe’s ‘improvement’ of Odysseus’ men, 10.395-6: ἄνδρες δ᾽ ἂψ ἐγένοντο νεώτεροι ἢ πάρος ἦσαν, / καὶ πολὺ καλλίονες καὶ μείζονες

42 paralleled by Odysseus’ return to Ithaca when Athene puts the hero in the disguise of a beggar.136 There, Athene’s action is similarly described in terms of actual change rather than of seeming (ἄγνωστον τεύξω; κάρψω μὲν χρόα καλόν; ὀλέσω τρίχας), but emphasis is again placed on the effect on those viewing the appearance (ὅ κε στυγέῃσιν ἰδὼν ἄνθρωπον ἔχοντα). Moreover, unlike the metamorphoses of, for instance, Niobe or Hecabe, this is a temporary change and Odysseus will regain his own appearance along with reclaiming his rule of Ithaca and his position in his household. This is therefore different to the self-transformations of shapeshifters, carried out in order to attempt escape, or the metamorphoses inflicted upon mortals, which result in a degradation or loss of human status. We might usefully, then, make a distinction between transformation-as-disguise and other transformations. Thus, what distinguishes Athene’s appearances to mortals from the transformations of shapeshifters is not simply a linguistic divide, but one of purpose and intent, as well as the centrality of changeability to shapeshifters.

We can now apply this distinction to Dionysus’ episode in his Homeric Hymn. The god initially appears as a youth (νεηνίῃ ἀνδρὶ ἐοικώς), before transforming into a lion (λέων γένετ᾽).137 The first ‘transformation’ is an instance of ‘transformation-as-disguise’ comparable to Athene’s appearances above; it is a deceptive trick, intended to disguise the god’s true nature – Dionysus in this form is the bait for his trap. His lion transformation, however, is a true metamorphosis, which entails a full transformation and the transference of Dionysus’ identity into that of the animal.

d. Identity transformed

Before turning to the topic of gender, this example leads us to consider the way in which identity is related to and problematised by transformation. Dionysus, once transformed into a lion, throws off his identity in favour of this form: λέων δ᾽ ἐπὶ

εἰσοράασθαι, which is similarly concerned with appearance, but which emphatically shows actual change, indicated by both ἐγένοντο and ἦσαν; appearance is secondary here. 136 Od. 13.397-403. de Jong (2001) ad 1.118 notes that Odysseus – like disguised Olympian gods – is still referred to as himself by the Homeric narrator, and thus categorises this as a disguise. 137 h.Bacch. 3, 44.

43 σέλματος ἄκρου / δεινὸν ὑπόδρα ἰδών.138 He is not referred to again as Dionysus until he declares his identity to the helmsman:

εἰμὶ δ᾽ ἐγὼ Διόνυσος ἐρίβρομος, ὃν τέκε μήτηρ Καδμηὶς Σεμέλη Διὸς ἐν φιλότητι μιγεῖσα.139

This creates a ring composition with the opening lines of the Hymn (ἀμφὶ Διώνυσον, Σεμέλης ἐρικυδέος υἱόν, / μνήσομαι),140 allowing Dionysus to (re)claim his identity and state his lineage. Similarly, Thetis, introduced by name in Pindar’s fourth Nemean (Θέτις δὲ κρατεῖ / Φθίᾳ, 50-1) is reduced to the claws of lions and fire during her transformation sequence, and her name is not mentioned (even obliquely) again until the end of her metamorphoses and her marriage to Peleus.141

Athene’s identity, however – as we saw above – is maintained throughout her transformation-disguises and she is consistently referred to by her own name when in mortal form; her changes of shape do not affect her behaviour or selfhood. Mortals, on the other hand, may be overwhelmed by their metamorphoses – over time if not immediately;142 such is the case of Hecabe, whose tomb will not give her name but only refer to her as a dog: κυνὸς ταλαίνης σῆμα.143 Hecabe’s death cements her transformation and through it her identity is permanently displaced. For Metis, however, one of the rare shapeshifters who, since she is subsumed into Zeus’ character, is no longer (independently) alive following the transformation sequence, her (at least symbolic) death signals a return of identity, centred on her name. Her identity, which was displaced temporarily in favour of – but which was essential to – her shapeshifting, is retained by Zeus. This is not, of course, a straightforward issue, but it does serve to show a distinction between the effect of transformation on mortals and on shapeshifters.

The Olympian gods are not affected by their transformations, which serve as temporary disguises allowing them to communicate with mortals or to move

138 h.Bacch. 47-8. 139 h.Bacch. 56-7. 140 h.Bacch. 1-2. 141 Pi. N. 4.65. 142 While Odysseus’ men maintain their human minds, the other animals on Circe’s island are shown to have lost their humanity – rather than weep over their situation, the lions and wolves fawn on the companions like dogs, Od. 10.212-19. Cf. Vidal-Naquet (1986) 22-3 who suggests that the difference in behaviour, and their relative retention of or distance from humanity, is indicative of a hierarchy of animals. 143 E. Hec. 1273.

44 between, for instance, the human world and the divine realm of Olympus. Mortal transformation is often total and may be simultaneous with or stand in for death. Here, therefore, shapeshifters occupy a middle ground – as they do in so many other respects – and there is a paradox inherent in their changeability. Once transformed, the shapeshifter’s identity is replaced wholly, and is not regained until the end of the shapeshifting sequence. It is regained, however, since transformative powers are inherent to their characters and this is not inflicted upon them.

ii. Gender and agency

Next, I shall turn my attention to the issues of gender and agency in depictions of shapeshifters, particularly as previous discussion has tended primarily to treat female shapeshifters as distinct from male shapeshifters. In our selection of these figures, we find both male and female characters, whose transformation sequences do appear to be somewhat influenced according to gender, at least in terms of provocation. For female shapeshifters, as I mentioned in the Introduction, there tends to be some form of sexual violence which motivates their shapeshifting; for them, the threat of rape or marriage (which would naturally result in a change of social status) provides the restraint against which they must struggle. This assessment, however, does not account for the variation within narratives of female shapeshifters, and has led to the conclusion (based, as I shall show, on scant evidence) that female shapeshifters lose their ability to shapeshift following their ‘marriages’, while male shapeshifters do not. This is the view of Kirk Ormand in his extensive discussion of Mestra as she appears in fr.43 M-W of the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women:

Shape-shifting myths are, as it turns out, keyed to gender. In the case of male shape-shifters, the character's ability is not linked to a single moment or phase of their lives. For these men and minor deities, the power is a constant attribute, one that is present throughout their narratives, and it does not seem to point to any particular social structure. Women, by contrast, have the ability to shape-shift only before marriage; the stories about their shape-shifting always take place in the context of trying to avoid marriage, and the marriage itself is concurrent with the loss of (or merely textual silence about) their supernatural powers. These myths specifically address an anxiety about the

45 instability of female identity, and they propose marriage as an institution that can fix that identity.144

It is my intention here to respond to this and other such arguments which have suggested that a harsh line be drawn between the transformations of, for example, Proteus and Thetis according to gender. By paying close attention to issues of gender which arise when considering shapeshifters, I aim to bring additional nuance to our understanding of these figures, which will serve to underpin the rest of the thesis and the approaches I employ in later chapters. In order to combat such sweeping generalisations and previous failure to consider male and female shapeshifters as related members of a group, I shall show that the similarities between these figures on the structural level are many and striking – here, I shall consider how the theme of gender relates to agency, and the various characters’ powers of transformation. I do so in order to clarify three main points: 1) that the theme of marriage in female shapeshifters cannot be considered a ‘cut and paste’ model and that there is a good deal of variation within this; 2) that it is not only reductive but fundamentally incorrect to suggest that female shapeshifters cannot change shape following ‘marriage’ (in any euphemistic sense); and 3) that neither is the opposite true of male shapeshifters.

First, then, the variation found within the theme of marriage. Thetis transforms to avoid marriage to Peleus; this fails, and she gives birth to Achilles, after which she abandons her mortal family and returns to her father’s household. Nemesis transforms to avoid being raped by Zeus, but is similarly unsuccessful and produces an egg, after which her story ends; Metis, too, transforms to avoid Zeus’ advances in later versions of the myth, but is swallowed and subsumed into Zeus. Mestra repeatedly uses her transformations to return to her father after being given in marriage but is later married or raped by Poseidon, gives birth to a son, and returns to her father. It is immediately clear that although these episodes are linked by the theme of threatened marriage or rape, the theme is not treated in the same way in every myth. Even from such a brief summary we can see that there is a least as much variation between each of these myths as between those of Thetis and Proteus (for instance), and a blanket approach is therefore insufficient. To

144 Ormand (2014) 86.

46 further illustrate this point, it is worth making a closer examination of Mestra’s myth.

The Hesiodic account of Mestra’s shapeshifting presents a useful starting point, since while her story clearly bears strong resemblance to those of the other shapeshifters, there are some immediate divergences that require attention. Unlike the narratives of Proteus or Thetis, for instance, Mestra’s involves multiple instances of transformation, rather than a single series of metamorphoses on one occasion; she undergoes the process daily (καθ’ ἑκάστην ἡμέραν),145 transforming (presumably) once on each occasion and then returning to human form, a fact which led Forbes Irving to reject Mestra from his study. Moreover, as discussed above, she is human, not a marine deity,146 and unlike the transformations of Proteus or Thetis – or even that of Dionysus – Mestra transforms after having been married and therefore ‘captured’. The shapeshifting process is a deliberate and consciously forward-planned means of escape, rather than a sudden response (whether conscious or otherwise) and one which does not necessarily require some form of aggression by which to be provoked but is simply a means of feeding her father Erysichthon. Mestra’s transformations and her function in the narrative are indeed ‘keyed to gender’, to borrow Ormand’s phrase, but rather than adhering to gender roles, Mestra’s shapeshifting strategy subverts her social role. Moreover, her transformative ability allows her an active role in the narrative; she is an agent in her transformations, as is indicated by the mention of her cleverness (πολύιδρις)147 and in her eventual, voluntary return to her father. Mestra’s narrative therefore challenges expectations of the marriage theme, not only against the background of shapeshifters but against the context of the Catalogue of Women,148 and stands out as a result. It is indeed necessary to read female shapeshifters from the perspective of gender, but unhelpful to end our consideration there.

Next, since the marriage theme does not feature in exactly the same way in each female shapeshifter’s myth, it follows that neither does it have the same outcomes for each shapeshifter. It is certainly true that Metis stops transforming

145 Hes. Cat. fr.43b M-W = Σ Lyc. 1393. Whether married or sold, there is no doubt that the process is repeated. 146 Though see above, Introduction i. on her connection to Poseidon. 147 Hes. Cat. fr.43a.57 M-W. 148 See e.g. Hunter (2005) and Osborne (2005) 17-18.

47 following her shapeshifting episode, but this is as a result of being swallowed by Zeus and therefore fully subsumed into his character, rather than as a result of ‘marriage’. Indeed, to allow for the birth of Athene, Metis must already be pregnant when she transforms and when Zeus swallows her.149 Nemesis, on the other hand, may well stop transforming after Zeus rapes her, but the impact of her transformations and the after-effects of them can be seen in the fact that she produces an egg.150 Evidence for Nemesis’ inability to shapeshift is found only in textual silence, an issue which also affects other female shapeshifters.151 Their myths are centred on the shapeshifting episode, so it is more accurate to say that we do not have evidence of Nemesis transforming elsewhere than to assume that this is given in the myth. The same can be said of Proteus, who exists in the Odyssey (our primary source for this shapeshifter) only in the direct context of his shapeshifting battle with Menelaus. Evidence of his shapeshifting activity outside the interaction with Menelaus comes only from Eidothea’s certainty of his response and her mention of shapes other than those which he assumes in his contest with the hero,152 which suggests other instances. On the other hand, regarding the characters for whom we do have evidence outside the transformation episode, I contend that it is entirely possible to find such instances of transformation.

Thetis, for instance, appears ἠΰτ᾽ ὀμίχλη in Book 1 of the Iliad.153 This may be a transformation similar to other appearances of gods in the Homeric poems,154 rather than a transformation sequence, but it brings to mind Thetis’ potential for elemental transformations155 and that of other shapeshifters, for instance Proteus’ transformation into water.156 The transformation into a watery substance further reminds us of her connection to the sea and therefore of her inherent predisposition towards shapeshifting: in some senses, Thetis is the sea. In the Iliad,

149 As evident in Σ Hes. Th. 886. See also Hes. Th. 888-9: ἔμελλε…τέξεσθαι, but cf. Hes. fr.343 M- W, in which Metis conceives (κύσατο, 11) on being swallowed by Zeus. 150 We might compare the story of Chiron’s birth given at A.R. 2.1232-41, in which Philyra is said to have given birth to πελώριος Chiron whose hybrid form is explicitly associated with Cronos’ transformation into a horse while having sex with Philyra: ἀμοιβαίῃ τέκεν εὐνῇ. See Guillaume- Coirier (1995). Aston (2011) 96 discusses the situation of Chiron’s birth in relation to similar events, such as Ixion’s rape of an eidolon in the form of Hera at Pi. P. 36-40. 151 As Ormand (2014) 86 admits. 152 Od. 4.417-18. 153 Il. 1.359. 154 However, as Buxton (2009) 165-6 observes, Achilles’ recognition of his mother is instantaneous despite her lack of a ‘mitigating human shape’ (emphasis Buxton’s). 155 Chapter 2.2. 156 Od. 4.558.

48 moreover, we are told explicitly that Thetis has left Peleus and returned to her father in the sea. Her marriage to Peleus did indeed put an end to the threat Thetis held for Zeus’ cosmogonic rule, as Ormand rightly notes,157 but it is nonetheless significant that Thetis has rejected this marriage. Through marriage Thetis undergoes a social change but acts independently of this,158 and is able to transform after marriage.

It is in Mestra, however, that we find the clearest evidence that shapeshifting abilities and agency are not lost following marriage. As discussed, her powers of transformation are used in a different context from those of Thetis or Nemesis, and remain viable even following repeated marriage (although we may understand that this process is not entirely ‘successful’ in that no children are born to her human husbands).159 However, even after Mestra’s successful and divinely sanctioned ‘marriage’160 to Poseidon, and the birth of her child from this marriage, the heroine returns to her father and does so explicitly to care for him: αἰν]όμορον πατέρα ὃν πορσαίνεσκεν.161 Contrary to Ormand who argues that ‘the iterative form… seems to refer only to ongoing, normal care, not to repeated marriages and transformation,’162 I suggest rather that the iterative verb here reflects the repeated transformations of Mestra’s story and leads to a cyclical structure in the narrative.163 The only way Mestra could be expected to care for her continually hungry father would be in the same way she had done previously – by undergoing metamorphoses.164 The iterative verb here therefore adds a ring composition to the narrative – despite the marked social change of undergoing marriage and

157 Ormand (2014) 104, cf. Slatkin (1991). 158 Thetis’ identity is already somewhat flexible as the Iliadic myths casting Thetis in the role of a mother-figure precede her marriage to Peleus and the birth of Achilles, as the goddess’ protection of Dionysus and Hephaestus occur in the ‘plupast’ of the Iliad. On this, see chapter 3.2 and cf. Slatkin (1991) 56-7. Cf. Aston (2011) 59. 159 But rather only to Poseidon. As King (1983) 121 discusses, the birth of a woman’s first child was essential for her becoming a gune; after marriage, Mestra literally becomes a gune when she transforms back into human form (γυνὴ δ᾽ ἄφαρ α[ὖτις ἔγεντο / πατρὸς ἐ]νὶ μεγάροισι, Hes. Cat. fr.43c.56-7 M-W), inverting the standard progression of women in the Catalogue (as Rutherford (2005) 106 notes, this transformation is the only surviving reference of her transformation into animal form). See chapter 2.3 for her childlessness and the problematic effects this may hold. 160 Hes. Cat. fr.43a.55-9 M-W. The marriage is signalled by ἐδάμασσε (80): LSJ s.v. δαμάζω II. See Ziogas (2013) 16-17. 161 Hes. Cat. fr.43a.69 M-W. 162 Ormand (2014) 117. 163 Rutherford (2005) 109 raises the possibility that this care may entail ‘soliciting dowries’. 164 LSJ s.v. πορσύνω II. ‘generally, prepare, provide’.

49 childbirth, Mestra returns to her father (like Thetis in the Iliad) and must continue to change shape.

There is no question that the issue of marriage is a significant one with regards to female shapeshifters, adding an instability to their characterisation and representing a force against which these characters struggle. Their frequent positioning on the cusp of marriage, moreover, is a specific phase of their life, as Ormand suggests. This aspect of timing is not, however, limited to female shapeshifters: Periclymenus, the second mortal shapeshifter, undergoes his transformations on the battlefield of Troy, and is cast firmly in the role of a young male hero/soldier.165 As with Proteus (and most of the female shapeshifters) the narrative is focused on one specific transformation episode and, less typically, on Periclymenus’ death. Here we have a male shapeshifter whose transformations have a definite end, and I suggest that for Periclymenus, shapeshifting while on the battlefield as part of his aristeia,166 and thus in the role of a hero, should similarly be considered a moment of social significance,167 one that is suited for a young hero of myth.

Lastly, it is worth considering here the presentations of Empousa, since she is certainly female and clearly a shapeshifter, and Achelous. As a monstrous being, Empousa is distinguished from other female shapeshifters. As a result, it is unsurprising that the marriage theme does not feature in her appearance in Frogs,168 but she is nonetheless described as a beautiful woman (γυνὴ / ὡραιοτάτη τις, 290-1), a description which foregrounds her gender (all the more striking against the form of a θηρίον μέγα in which she originally appears, 288).169 Unlike Thetis, Metis, Mestra or Nemesis, however, Empousa is not a beautiful maiden outside her transformation cycle – part of the humour of Aristophanes’ portrayal lies in the fact that this is another of the shapes she takes on, and quickly sheds in the next moment in favour of a dog’s form.170 Aristophanes’ comedy therefore

165 Hes. Cat. 33a.19-22 M-W. 166 As Ormand (2014) 108 notes. 167 Contra Ormand (2014) 108: ‘The notable aspect of Periklymenos' shape-shifting for us is that it seems to hold no particular social resonance. It is merely an attribute, one that is useful on the field of battle but eventually fails him.’ 168 Ar. Ra. 289-95. 169 This recalls the parthenos/gune status change at issue in the shapeshifters above, cf. King (1983) 121. 170 Cf. Johnston (1999) 133.

50 emphasises Empousa’s shapeshifting itself; the opposite is true of her appearance in Philostratus, where the vampiric empousa disguises herself as a beautiful woman and preys on her would-be husband Menippus.171 Achelous, meanwhile, proves that the relation of shapeshifting and marriage is not limited to female shapeshifters, since, like Philostratus’ empousa, he uses his transformation sequence not to evade capture but rather in an attempt to secure marriage to Deianeira.172

As I have shown, therefore, we cannot simply categorise the characteristics of shapeshifters, their narratives, and the context surrounding the transformations according to the shapeshifter’s gender, as this does not allow the complexities which exist in these depictions to come to light. The marriage theme does permeate myths of female shapeshifters, but is not straightforward in any myth – Thetis subverts the theme by abandoning her mortal husband and child, thus rejecting her status as a wife, while Mestra repeatedly avoids the social progression of marriage and returns to care for her father even after being abducted by Poseidon. Moreover, the theme is further subverted in the case of the ‘monstrous’ shapeshifters, as Achelous’ changes of shape emphasise his unsuitability as a suitor for Deianeira and Empousa’s temporary appearance as a beautiful (presumably young) woman perhaps recalls and parodies the anthropomorphic resting form of shapeshifters such as Thetis or Nemesis. Most significantly, I have shown that despite the persistent conclusion that female shapeshifters can only do so on one occasion, there is no more evidence of male shapeshifters transforming outside their cycles than of female shapeshifters. In fact, the only character who is specifically described as undergoing shapeshifting episodes on more than one occasion is Mestra, a female shapeshifter who is also an outlier due to the nature of her transformations. For her, shapeshifting is a continuous strategy enabled, rather than undermined by, repeated marriages.

171 Philostr. VA. 5.25. On the Empousa as a ‘restless soul’ see Johnston (1999) 133-8, 171; cf. Scobie (1977) 7-10. 172 S. Tr. 9-14.

51 1.2 Transformation episodes

In this chapter I shall undertake a close reading of the Greek shapeshifters’ transformation episodes, in terms of the presentation of shapeshifting and the associations generated by the presence of certain aspects. I focus here on the depiction of Proteus’ episode in Odyssey 4, Thetis’ transformations in Pindar’s Nemean 4, and Dionysus in his Homeric Hymn, as the most narratively developed episodes in the corpus. As I shall discuss, there are many important features shared across these episodes which serve to link them together and present a vast range of intertextual associations which generate expectations for a reader approaching these characters. The lion form taken on by all three shapeshifters, for instance, recalls the heroic aggression depicted in epic lion similes, and therefore emphasises the danger of encountering a shapeshifter, while the presence of water in Proteus’ episode points to philosophical treatments of this element and encapsulates the god’s fluid nature.

First, I offer a brief analysis of each episode in order to provide context for the discussion which follows. This discussion is split into two parts: in the first, I consider the animal forms assumed by each shapeshifter and their narrative significance, in order to demonstrate the literary impact of these transformations. Secondly, I discuss the presence and literary significance of elemental transformations.

i. Close readings a. Proteus

I will begin with Proteus’ transformations in Odyssey 4:

πάντα δὲ γιγνόμενος πειρήσεται, ὅσσ᾽ ἐπὶ γαῖαν ἑρπετὰ γίγνονται, καὶ ὕδωρ καὶ θεσπιδαὲς πῦρ· […] οὐδ᾽ ὁ γέρων δολίης ἐπελήθετο τέχνης, ἀλλ᾽ ἦ τοι πρώτιστα λέων γένετ᾽ ἠυγένειος,

52 αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα δράκων καὶ πάρδαλις ἠδὲ μέγας σῦς· γίγνετο δ᾽ ὑγρὸν ὕδωρ καὶ δένδρεον ὑψιπέτηλον·173

Confronted by Menelaus, Proteus attempts to escape capture by becoming various animals and elements. His transformations, heralded by repetition of γίγνομαι, are presented in full and clearly depicted as a sequence; Proteus does not return to his original, presumably anthropomorphic, shape until Menelaus has successfully ‘beaten’ him by retaining his grasp on the sea deity.174 Additionally, these transformations are not spontaneous but rather intentional, as Eidothea, when informing Menelaus how to discover the truth from her father, states that he will try (πειρήσεται) to escape by becoming all manner of (unspecified) creatures (ἑρπετά). This repetition further emphasises Proteus’ transformative abilities; although we only view him transforming on one occasion, Eidothea’s prediction hints at past metamorphoses. While the certainty of his metamorphosis does create a sense of inevitability, it is nonetheless clear that Proteus’ attempts to protect himself are conscious actions,175 particularly as Proteus’ transformation episode does not adhere exactly to Eidothea’s prediction: he does not become θεσπιδαὲς πῦρ, nor are his transformations limited to ἑρπετά as she suggests; instead, his final transformation is into a tall tree (δένδρεον ὑψιπέτηλον). It appears odd that of all his forms, this final shape is arguably the least threatening and certainly less overtly harmful than the predicted fire – while water may carry connotations of drowning, a tree does not appear to pose an active threat but rather suggests inertia and passivity. It is possible therefore to read this final shape as indicating the progressive exhaustion of Proteus’ powers; immediately following this Proteus ‘grows weary’ (ἀνίαζ᾽ ὁ γέρων),176 and returns to his anthropomorphic shape. However, the emphasis on the tree’s size indicated by ὑψιπέτηλον and the use of ὑγρόν to describe the water’s fluidity may be read as further attempts to escape Menelaus’ grasp. While his first set of transformations into a lion, a snake, a leopard and a boar may have been intended to be dangerous and threatening forms, designed to frighten Menelaus into releasing his grasp on Proteus, it may be that

173 Od. 4.417-18, 455-8. 174 Eidothea’s instruction is to grip and hold onto the god throughout his metamorphoses (Od. 4.419: ὑμεῖς δ᾽ ἀστεμφέως ἐχέμεν μᾶλλόν τε πιέζειν). 175 Contra Baumbach (2013) 155 who argues that an ‘extraneous force’ causes Proteus to transform, and Thumiger (2014) 388 who suggests that, as a form of self-defence, these shapeshifting episodes are not intentional. 176 Od. 4.460.

53 these final two shapes are a last resort, intended to be difficult to hold onto by simple reason of their nature. Certainly, however, each of the animals Proteus becomes is potentially dangerous; all are threatening, wild creatures which are elsewhere prevalent in Greek poetic imagery, as I will explore below.

b. Thetis

Thetis’ shapeshifting episode in Pindar’s Nemean 4 is rather briefer in its treatment of the goddess’ transformations, yet still markedly conveys some of the themes seen in Proteus’ transformation:

πῦρ δὲ παγκρατὲς θρασυμαχάνων τε λεόντων ὄνυχας ὀξυτάτους ἀκμὰν τε δεινοτάτων σχάσαις ὀδόντων ἔγαμεν ὑψιθρόνων μίαν Νηρεΐδων,177

Here again we see a transformation into elements and animals, although rather than depicting Thetis’ shapeshifting as a clear sequence Pindar chooses to focus on Thetis’ lion form and the danger this poses. This brevity is a common feature of Pindaric narrative, yet here it is not only the span of Thetis’ transformations which is compressed, but also the time between this event and the marriage. The two events are clearly linked,178 but Pindar presents the past time rather unobtrusively using the participle σχάσαις to indicate the jump backwards.179 Thetis’ return to her anthropomorphic form is (in its narrative presentation) synchronous with her marriage to Peleus; the marriage thus appears almost as a part of the transformation series, rather than a distinct event. In his compression of Thetis’ transformation, Pindar emphasises the lion’s dangerous features, reducing the creature to claws and teeth which are very sharp (ὀξυτάτους) and awful (δεινοτάτων) respectively, rather than listing a variety of creatures. Thetis is completely taken over by these forms until her return to the narrative as a daughter of Nereus (μίαν Νηρεΐδων); Pindar’s focus on the lion and fire emphasises her shapeshifting ability despite the absence of an actual transformation process

177 Pi. N. 4.61-5. 178 See chapter 1.1. 179 Griffith (1993) 614 identifies this as one of Pindar’s typical methods of minimising a step into the past.

54 itself.180 The elements of danger presented, the lion’s claws and teeth, recall Proteus’ transformation in the Odyssey, but Pindar’s narrative goes beyond this. Thetis does become fire, and Pindar’s description of the fire as παγκρατές both emphasises the danger it poses and also recalls the earlier description of Thetis: Θέτις δὲ κρατεῖ / Φθίᾳ,181 and is a tangible link between Thetis’ pre- and mid- transformation depiction. Despite the difference in presentation of the shapeshifting here, Pindar too focuses on the dangerous aspects of Thetis’ transformation. Like Proteus, however, and despite her position as a ruler, Thetis is overcome by Peleus; but the marriage she is forced into is not one which will last or one in which Thetis will be confined permanently, as the audience understand from the mythic context.

c. Dionysus

The third episode I will discuss here, Dionysus’ transformations in his Homeric Hymn, is in some regards quite different to Proteus’ or Thetis’: Dionysus himself is not a sea deity, nor does he undergo multiple transformations himself, and his transformation is successful as a means of escape from his mortal captors. As I discussed in the Introduction, however, Dionysus may be considered part of the family of shapeshifters, and close examination of his shapeshifting episode reveals many parallels with those of Proteus and Thetis.

ὃ δ᾽ ἄρα σφι λέων γένετ᾽ ἔνδοθι νηὸς δεινὸς ἐπ᾽ ἀκροτάτης, μέγα δ᾽ ἔβραχεν, ἐν δ᾽ ἄρα μέσσῃ ἄρκτον ἐποίησεν λασιαύχενα, σήματα φαίνων· ἂν δ᾽ ἔστη μεμαυῖα· λέων δ᾽ ἐπὶ σέλματος ἄκρου δεινὸν ὑπόδρα ἰδών· οἳ δ᾽ ἐς πρύμνην ἐφόβηθεν, ἀμφὶ κυβερνήτην δὲ σαόφρονα θυμὸν ἔχοντα ἔσταν ἄρ᾽ ἐκπληγέντες· ὃ δ᾽ ἐξαπίνης ἐπορούσας ἀρχὸν ἕλ᾽, οἳ δὲ θύραζε κακὸν μόρον ἐξαλύοντες πάντες ὁμῶς πήδησαν, ἐπεὶ ἴδον, εἰς ἅλα δῖαν, δελφῖνες δ᾽ ἐγένοντο·182

180 A process which was central to the Odyssean depiction of Proteus above. 181 Pi. N. 4.50-1. 182 h.Bacch. 44-53.

55 Again, we see a transformation into a terrible (δεινός) lion, and one which is provoked by his being physically seized by mortal opponents.183 This transformation, furthermore, is one by which Dionysus is fully overtaken; as in the Proteus episode, the metamorphosis is an act of becoming rather than of appearing, and Dionysus is explicitly referred to as a lion (λέων δ’). As with Proteus and Thetis, Dionysus’ aim here is to evade capture by taking on not only the form but also the dangerous characteristics of his chosen shape. Dionysus’ episode is distinguished from both Proteus’ and Thetis’ transformation sequences by the presence of the bear that he ‘makes’ (ἐποίησεν) appear, which is ambiguously described as one of Dionysus’ σήματα and which acts to compound the alien and chaotic atmosphere in which the pirates find themselves.

The motif of becoming is additionally picked up at the end of the episode, as the pirates who imprisoned Dionysus transform into dolphins, an event to which I shall return in the next chapter.184 Finally, while Dionysus is not a water deity, this episode nonetheless takes place at sea, in the liminal space of the ship, and he influences the pirates’ water-based transformation.

Transformation into (dangerous) animals or elements is a prominent shared characteristic of these three shapeshifters. However, it is only the lion which occurs across each of these episodes, appearing as the first transformation of both Proteus and Dionysus, and the focus of Thetis’ shapeshifting. The appearance of the lion is striking as a motif which brings with it a wealth of associations through its prominence in epic similes; leopards, lions and boars are further linked together as examples of animals with strong spirit (μέγιστος θυμός) in the Iliad,185 a connection which points to the impression generated by Proteus’ successive transformations into these forms. However, while boars and lions appear together several times in similes in the Iliad, for the most part these creatures appear separately in literary depictions, and I shall consider here the nature of each in turn. First, I discuss the role of lions in epic imagery, before moving on to discuss the other forms assumed in Proteus’ shapeshifting episode.

183 h.Bacch. 9. 184 I shall also discuss Dionysus’ creation of the bear at h.Bacch. 46 (ἄρκτον ἐποίησεν) in chapter 1.3. 185 Il. 17.20ff, see Alden (2005) 335.

ii. Animals a. Lions

Of all the animals which appear in the metamorphic sequences given above, lions feature in the greatest number of epic similes, appearing as the vehicle of a great number of heroic similes in the Homeric epics, particularly in the battle-scenes of the Iliad. In this epic, heroes are regularly equated with lions when in battle and there is a marked connection between lion similes and war186 – in Books 5 and 11, for example, there are six and eight different lion similes respectively.187 Across these similes, lions are overwhelmingly described as explicitly strong and/or dangerous, whether by their own attributes,188 or by the reaction of others around them,189 regardless of being successful or unsuccessful in their pursuits. These similes emphasise the prowess of heroes in battle, but also their ruthlessness and the viciousness of their attack.190 By contrast, the lion-hero’s opponents are often shown to be vulnerable or helpless – as domestic cattle or even, as is the case of one simile attached to Agamemnon, infants.191 Here, the lion’s prey are described as the νήπια τέκνα of a deer; the term suggests human children and thus draws the audience’s attention to the domestic aspect of the battle for Troy.192 In the Iliad, the phrase νήπιον τέκνον appears 11 times, with only one other instance denoting animals.193 It is used predominantly of Trojans, and often appears as part of a formulaic phrasing with ἄλοχος to refer to the families of the fighters. Within the context of the Iliad, therefore, the use of this phrase to describe Agamemnon’s victims must recall the eventual fate of the children in Troy, exemplified by Priam’s appeal to Hector:

186 Scott (1974) 57, 62. 187 Il. 5.136, 161, 299, 476, 554, 782; 11.113, 129, 173, 239, 293, 383, 480, 558. 188 Il. 5.299. 189 Il. 11.383. 190 See Il. 17.541-2: πόδας καὶ χεῖρας […] αἱματόεις ὥς τίς τε λέων; Mills (2000), Scott (2006) 108, Scott (1974) 60. 191 Il. 11.113-15. 192 LSJ s.v. νήπιος A.I.1, of human children, A.I.2 ‘less freq. of animals’; s.v. τέκνον A.1-2. 193 The instances at Il. 2.136, 4.238, 6.95, 6.276, 6.310, 17.223, 18.514, 22.63, 24.730 all refer to human children, while 2.311 refers to the chicks of a sparrow attacked by a snake. In the Odyssey the phrase is applied exclusively to human children, e.g. 12.42, 14.264, 17.433.

57 νήπια τέκνα βαλλόμενα προτὶ γαίῃ ἐν αἰνῇ δηϊοτῆτι194

Lions are used in these instances to demonstrate particularly bloody combat or actions – by equating these heroes with an explicitly wild and ferocious animal, the poet distinguishes them from the normal realm and actions of mankind. These similes demonstrate the threat represented by epic heroes by focusing on the brutality of their actions and depict their transgression of typical human boundaries.

Beyond similes, lion imagery also appears prominently in the use of the heroic epithet θυμολέων, variously used to describe Heracles, Achilles and Odysseus in the Iliad and Odyssey, typically with reference to a battle context.195 Across these epics, this epithet denotes the heroic prowess of these men in a more general sense than those suggested by lion similes, and further speaks to the battle connotations of these creatures. The lion is not therefore limited to descriptions of heroic actions and aristeia but symbolises internal courage and strength; Achilles, the primary recipient of lion similes in the Iliad, is not only lion-like in his behaviour, but in his attitude.

The association between lions and war is further emphasised in the depiction of lion skins as a form of battle attire – Greek heroes not only act like lions or embody their characteristics, but physically take on the appearance of a lion. Both Agamemnon and Diomedes wear lion skins (δέρμα λέοντος) which cover their whole bodies in the Iliad,196 recalling depictions of Heracles in both iconographical and literary sources.197 A connection with Heracles lends connotations of physical heroism and strength to these characters and suggests prowess in battle – both Agamemnon and Diomedes take up their spears (εἵλετο δ᾽ ἔγχος) after putting on the lion skins, explicitly figuring this as an arming sequence in each case. Lonsdale argues that the wearing of animal skins or helmets does not

194 Il. 22.63-4. 195 Heracles: Il. 5.639, Od. 11.267, each time associated with a battle context through the use of θρασυμέμνων. Achilles: Il. 7.228, again in a battle context indicated by ῥηξήνωρ, cf. Hes. Th. 1007, Ἀχιλλῆα ῥηξήνορα θυμολέοντα. Odysseus: Od. 4.724, 814. 196 Il. 10.23-4, 177-8: the phrasing in these instances is almost identical, with ἑέσσατο δέρμα λέοντος / αἴθωνος μεγάλοιο ποδηνεκές, εἵλετο δ᾽ ἔγχος appearing in both. 197 See LIMC s.v. “Herakles” 2030, 2033, 2115; and particularly 2550-6, 2560-8, in which Heracles is depicted clearly with the jaws of the lion framing his face. Hdt. 4.8.13; Theoc. 25.276- 9; A.R. 1.1195, 4.1438. See also Ar. Ra. 496 in which this connection is parodied.

58 so much make the hero resemble the creature, but rather that these items ‘infuse [the hero’s] character with the stealth or fury of the beast’.198 However, wrapped up in lion skins, these heroes are somewhat concealed or even disguised; in wearing the image of Heracles as well as of the lion, they to some extent ‘transform’ their own identities into that of Heracles. The lion skin, furthermore, becomes a symbol not only limited to Heracles but of heroes and courage more generally; in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite, Anchises, described as a hero (ἄναξ),199 has lion and bear skins on his bed.200 Furthermore, Plato’s Socrates wears a lion skin and states that while doing so he must not be a coward (οὐκ ἀποδειλιατέον ἀλλ᾽ ἐπισκεπτέον).201

In light of these characteristics in in the Iliad, therefore, lions stand as a logical transformation for shapeshifting characters, particularly as they emphasise the dangerous nature of these beings; the lion itself is above all a threatening, dangerous creature and these shapeshifters are not wholly anthropomorphic, owing to their ability to change form in a given situation. In becoming lions – a creature antithetical to the domestic or pastoral realm – their potentially savage, bestial nature is revealed.

Against the Iliadic connotations of lions, we can read Proteus’ transformation into a lion in the context of meeting a hero on a quasi-battlefield – in an attack initiated by Menelaus, the lion is an appropriate shape for Proteus to take on, the sudden appearance of a lion to counter Menelaus’ propensity for lion- like behaviour in battle as a Homeric hero. However, that Proteus is not a hero, but a god, disturbs the Iliadic model, as do, to some extent, most of the lion similes of the Odyssey. Odysseus is the primary recipient of lion similes,202 but Polyphemus also receives a lion simile when he eats two of Odysseus’ companions like a lion (ὥς τε λέων).203 Penelope too receives a lion simile in Book 4, one which links her to Odysseus and foreshadows the eventual battle for Ithaca, though outside an immediate battle context.204 Through these similes, therefore, Odysseus is linked to

198 Lonsdale (1988) 173. 199 h.Ven. 157, LSJ s.v. ἄναξ A.II as an epithet of heroes, ‘leaders’ of men. 200 h.Ven. 159. This also serves to mirror Aphrodite’s retinue of animals earlier in the hymn (h.Ven. 69-72). 201 Pl. Cra. 411a. 202 Od. 4.335, 6.130, 17.126-31, 22.420. 203 Od. 9.292. 204 Moulton (1977) 124, Magrath (1982) 207.

59 Polyphemus and the inhuman brutality of his actions; Odysseus’ lion similes at 4.335-40 and 22.401-6 show the prediction and fulfilment of his revenge against the suitors and while they seem at first to recall the Iliadic model of battle prowess, these similes generate pathos for the suitors.205 Odysseus’ opponents, moreover, are in a domestic setting and without weapons when they are killed, mirroring the plight of Odysseus and his men in the Cyclops’ cave.206

In the context of the Odyssey, then, Proteus’ lion transformation is threatening not only as an appropriate opponent for an epic hero, but because it is a lion removed from the Iliadic context. The appearance of a ‘real’ lion at this point serves to emphasise the alien nature of the world in which Odysseus and Menelaus find themselves after departing from the Iliadic realm of battle; these heroes are as likely to encounter non-human adversaries as they are human, and figures of both categories may be represented by – or become – lions.

For Proteus, however, the lion is a somewhat problematic transformation. As well as deer, lions are often imagined attacking sheep or farmers in the Iliad and thus disrupting a pastoral scene.207 Through these similes, therefore, the realm of battle crosses over into the realm of peacetime. In light of this association, Proteus’ lion transformation appears at odds with his role as a ‘seal-herd’, the very role which allows him to be ambushed by Menelaus. Eidothea likens Proteus to a shepherd and his sheep to flocks in a simile to Menelaus: λέξεται ἐν μέσσῃσι νομεὺς ὣς πώεσι μήλων.208 Menelaus’ intrusion into Proteus’ pastoral environment thus brings about a dramatic shift in the narrative: Proteus literally becomes a lion, moving from the role of a shepherd figure protecting his ‘flocks’ to that of a provoked creature attempting to protect itself.

This attempt, of course, is unsuccessful and unlike Odysseus, whose lion similes mark his victory,209 Proteus is not victorious in the shape of a lion, but becomes progressively less overtly threatening in shape until his defeat. In fact, as appearances of lions are fairly limited in the Odyssey, Proteus’ transformation may

205 West (1988) ad 4.335-40. 206 See Brelinski (2015) 5-7. 207 See, e.g. Il. 5.554, 10.297, 10.485, 18.161. See Scott (2006) 105-6. 208 Od. 4.413. 209 Moulton (1977) 141, although this association is not unproblematic in its link to Polyphemus who eats Odysseus’ men like a lion and thus disrupts the heroic connotations of this animal (Od. 9.292), see Magrath (1982) 208, 210-11.

60 be considered in light of the only other ‘real’ lions in the narrative – Circe’s pet lions of Book 10.210 Like Proteus, these lions occupy an ambivalent position in the narrative; despite their fearful appearance, they are playful rather than aggressive and are compared to dogs greeting their master. Once Circe’s transformative powers are revealed, it is uncertain whether these are lions at all, although, unlike Odysseus’ men, these animals do not or cannot return to human shape. Vidal- Naquet draws a distinction here between transformations into ‘wild’ and ‘domestic’ animals, suggesting that these lions cannot transform back into their human shape because they have lost their connection with humanity.211 However, while there certainly is a divide between these animals and Odysseus’ transformed companions, as evidenced by their behaviour and apparent mindset,212 Odysseus crucially does not ask Circe to reverse all the transformations she has caused, but only refers to his own men (ἐρίηρας ἑταίρους),213 and there is nothing to suggest that the goddess would undo all her work.

The Iliadic connotations of lions, and the characteristics which they were generally agreed to have, must therefore contribute to the prevalence of lion transformations among shapeshifters; not only were they considered an aggressive animal, appropriate for skirmishes between and against heroes, but their role as a feature of battles in the Iliadic tradition means that they signal to the reader a combative intent when included in these episodes and therefore affect the horizon of expectations.214 Moreover, the inclusion of these animals in clearly magical or supernatural scenes such as shapeshifting episodes challenges the human focus of the Iliad and epitomises the threatening fantasy world of the Odyssey depicted particularly in Books 4 and 9-12. The transformations of Dionysus and Thetis similarly seem to recall and manipulate the Iliadic model and associations of lions; Dionysus’ transformation leads to a chaotic scene in which the conjured bear, not the lion, stands ravenous (ἔστη μεμαυῖα) in the middle.215 This use of μεμαυῖα which can imply eagerness or rage, as well as hunger,216 links this bear back to the

210 Od. 10.212-18. 211 Vidal-Naquet (1986) 22-3. 212 Circe’s lions act like dogs ( Od. 10.212-19), while Odysseus’ men explicitly retain their human consciousness (10.240), and this division thus may also be an issue of time. 213 Od. 10.385-7. 214 See above, Introduction iii.d. 215 h.Bacch. 47. 216 LSJ s.v. μέμονα A.1.

61 predatory characteristics of the lions found in the Iliad, which are several times depicted eating their victims,217 and therefore also to Dionysus in his lion form, and finally to Proteus and the role of lions in the Odyssey; the threat of his attack is clearly established as the sailors throw themselves into the sea in order to escape him. Unlike either Dionysus or Proteus, Thetis transforms into a lion second, yet her transformation and Pindar’s focus on the lion’s claws and teeth still recalls the violent, destructive nature of the lion and the potential for consumption, while her status as a female further diverges from the Iliadic model, in which male characters receive lion similes almost exclusively.218

b. Snakes, leopards, and boars: Proteus’ transformations

I shall turn now to discuss the other animals featured in Proteus’ transformations, which appear as a list: ἔπειτα δράκων καὶ πάρδαλις ἠδὲ μέγας σῦς,219 where only the boar receives any additional description. This list conveys the rapid nature of the god’s transformations, but I suggest that it is significant that only the lion and boar, the two animals most attested in similes and epic imagery more generally, receive descriptive expansion.

Proteus’ transformation into a snake (δράκων) is the only appearance of this creature in the Odyssey. In the Iliad, on the other hand, snakes appear several times in almost entirely negative or ambivalent contexts. They are presented as portents,220 as a feature of the Chimaera,221 and appear as an apotropaic device on Agamemnon’s armour.222 Snakes also appear in two Iliadic similes, one depicting the snake as an object of fear describing Paris’ retreat from Menelaus,223 and the second describing Hector in his intention to fight Achilles as a snake in its lair (ὡς

217 See, e.g. Il. 3.25 in which Menelaus is likened to a lion eating a deer or goat (μάλα γάρ τε κατεσθίει); 15.635-6, Hector to a lion that has eaten a cow (ὃ δέ τ᾽ ἐν μέσσῃσιν ὀρούσας / βοῦν ἔδει); 17.64-5, Menelaus to a rather graphic depiction of a mountain lion eating a heifer (ἔπειτα δέ θ᾽ αἷμα καὶ ἔγκατα πάντα λαφύσσει / δῃῶν); and 17.541 where Automedon receives a comparable simile (ὥς τίς τε λέων κατὰ ταῦρον ἐδηδώς). 218 Hera’s description of Artemis as a lion against women at Il. 21.483 is a notable exception. 219 Od. 4.456. 220 Il. 2.308; 12.202, 220. 221 Il. 6.81. 222 Il. 11.26, 39. 223 Il. 3.33-4: ὡς δ᾽ ὅτε τίς τε δράκοντα ἰδὼν παλίνορσος ἀπέστη / οὔρεος ἐν βήσσῃς, ὑπό τε τρόμος ἔλλαβε γυῖα.

62 δὲ δράκων ἐπὶ χειῇ ὀρέστερος ἄνδρα μένῃσι).224 Proteus’ snake form thus represents a change of strategy; snakes do not attack as lions do, but are depicted as a lurking threat. Hector’s simile has a δράκων lying in wait (μένῃσι); it is not necessarily an active aggressor but denotes a different kind of danger, and certainly still shows intent to harm, a depiction which carries on into Nicander’s Theriaca, an account of snakes and remedies against venom.225 Here, as in Hector’s simile, snakes may attack without warning (ἀπροϊδῆ τύψαντα),226 and as such cannot easily be defended against. Additionally, as a common component of monstrous hybrids, furthermore, snakes may carry connotations of the supernatural,227 and this transformation therefore temporarily links Proteus to other monsters of the Odyssey, as I discuss further in chapter 2.3. While it certainly presents a threat, this creature has none of the heroic connotations of a lion and is therefore fitting as a second transformation; the lion shape has failed and as such Proteus resorts temporarily to a less heroic-associated form in order to attempt to escape Menelaus.

Next, Proteus becomes a leopard, in an apparent return to a more overtly aggressive stance, since, as stated above, in the Iliad leopards (πάρδαλις)228 are among the creatures considered to have μέγιστος θυμός, and are certainly hunters.229 Despite this, however, occurrences of leopards in literary texts are quite rare, and even rarer are mentions separate from other predators. Only Agenor receives a leopard simile in the Iliad, which features similar qualities to the typical lion of epic similes, including the battle context and the human opponent:

ἠΰτε πάρδαλις εἶσι βαθείης ἐκ ξυλόχοιο ἀνδρὸς θηρητῆρος ἐναντίον, οὐδέ τι θυμῷ ταρβεῖ οὐδὲ φοβεῖται, ἐπεί κεν ὑλαγμὸν ἀκούσῃ· εἴ περ γὰρ φθάμενός μιν ἢ οὐτάσῃ ἠὲ βάλῃσιν,

224 Il. 22.94-6. 225 Nicander’s account suggests ancient attitudes towards snakes; they are not creatures to be fought or defended against, but rather avoided (Th. 474-5); they attack consciously and in order to cause pain, see Overduin (2014) 631-2. 226 Nic. Th. 2; see also Nicander’s description of the κύανος δράκων and its attack from under a bush (Th. 438-57). The idea of the snake’s hidden danger is further emphasised in his description of its bite (444-7). Overduin (2014) discusses the threat of Nicander’s ‘gloomy world of danger’ (624) in opposition to the bucolic and pastoral depictions of Theocritus and Hesiod. 227 Hes. Th. 322 (Echidna), 825 (Typhon); Hes. Sc. 233-6, Pi. N. 1.40, A. Ch. 1050 (Gorgons). 228 See West (1988) ad loc. on the conflation/confusion of leopards and panthers, which is beyond the scope of my argument here. 229 Detienne (1979) 37-8.

63 ἀλλά τε καὶ περὶ δουρὶ πεπαρμένη οὐκ ἀπολήγει ἀλκῆς, πρίν γ᾽ ἠὲ ξυμβλήμεναι ἠὲ δαμῆναι· ὣς Ἀντήνορος υἱὸς ἀγαυοῦ δῖος Ἀγήνωρ οὐκ ἔθελεν φεύγειν, πρὶν πειρήσαιτ᾽ Ἀχιλῆος.230

This simile emphasises the animal’s bravery (οὐδέ τι θυμῷ / ταρβεῖ οὐδὲ φοβεῖται), but simultaneously focuses on the hunter’s ability to fight back and wound the creature (περὶ δουρὶ πεπαρμένη) and thus presents a more equal standing between warrior and opponent than that of typical lion similes. This is in direct contrast to many of the lion similes which depict the animal fighting multiple weaker enemies. However, Hector is the only Trojan to receive a lion simile,231 and is therefore distinguished from his fellow Trojans in this regard. Further, at the point of receiving his simile, Agenor is battling Achilles, a hero to whom lion similes are regularly attached, as discussed above. Although Achilles is represented by the hunter in this simile, he is the archetypal lion hero and is therefore matched with a – presumably – lesser creature in the context of the epic’s imagery.

As with lions, leopard skins are used as a form of clothing, although παρδαλέη appears less frequently than λεοντέη or δέρμα λέοντος. Paris wears a leopard skin in Book 3 of the Iliad,232 which Lonsdale suggests is a symbol of his high status and therefore a luxury item, rather than one which lends heroic qualities.233 Indeed, though Paris is equipped with multiple weapons (ἔχων καὶ καμπύλα τόξα / καὶ ξίφος … δοῦρε δύω)234 and stands at the forefront of the army (προμάχιζεν) while wearing this skin,235 his display of heroism is quickly shown to be meaningless, as he flees the battle.236 The wearing of leopard skins links Paris to Menelaus, who wears a leopard skin in the Iliad when he decides to consult Agamemnon.237 Closely following Agamemnon’s ‘arming’ scene involving the lion skin, as discussed above, the use of a leopard skin here distinguishes Menelaus from his brother, yet Menelaus also arms himself while wearing the skin (δόρυ δ᾽

230 Il. 21.573-80. 231 See, e.g. Il. 7.256, 8.388, 12.42. 232 Il. 3.17. 233 Lonsdale (1988) 173. This depiction of luxury and status is further reflected in Paris’ simile at Il. 6.506-14, in which he runs toward Hector and the battle. Here, the emphasis is on the horse’s appearance and his confidence (ἀγλαΐηφι πεποιθὼς), rather than on strength or any other indication of military ability; his eagerness for battle is limited to his splendour. 234 Il. 3.17-18. See Kirk (1985) 267-8 for a fuller discussion of Paris’ equipment. 235 Il. 3.16. 236 Il. 3.36-7. 237 Il. 10.29.

64 εἵλετο χειρὶ παχείῃ)238 and therefore appears simultaneously linked to Agamemnon in action and intent, despite their different attire. However, the connection to Paris – the only other leopard skin-wearer in the epic – casts Menelaus in a somewhat negative light, particularly considering the unfavourable context around Paris’ leopard skin. Despite his arming scene, Menelaus is not the one to incite action, as Agamemnon is, but rather relies on his brother. This paralleling of Menelaus and Paris, with the close juxtaposition with Agamemnon’s more overtly ‘heroic’ lion skin,239 invites the intent behind Menelaus’ arming scene to be called into question.

In these instances, the leopard appears to signal some differentiation, suggesting a divide between Menelaus and Agamemnon and distinguishing Agenor from Achilles. It follows, therefore, that the leopard carries some connotations of otherness and this is more clearly developed in later sources, where an exotic nature appears to be characteristic of this animal. In Pindar’s fourth Pythian, for instance, Jason is depicted wearing a leopard skin and Magnesian dress,

ἐσθὰς δ᾽ ἀμφοτέρα νιν ἔχεν, ἅ τε Μαγνήτων ἐπιχώριος ἁρμόζοισα θαητοῖσι γυίοις, ἀμφὶ δὲ παρδαλέᾳ στέγετο φρίσσοντας ὄμβρους.240

The style of Jason’s clothing here clearly serves to differentiate him from the people of Iolcus and emphasise his foreignness, while also depicting his strength. The leopard skin, combined with his foreign dress, renders him somewhat exotic.241 However, this skin also adds to the wildness of his portrayal; despite his heritage which links him to the country,242 Jason has been raised by Chiron.243 He is therefore foreign not only to the society of Iolcus, but to human society in general. Additionally, Jason is distinguished from human society by the practice of omophagy associated with Chiron and other heroes under his care,244 which, Detienne argues, removes the distinction between men and beasts.245

238 Il. 10.31. 239 See Hainsworth (1993) ad 10.29. 240 Pi. P. 4.79-81. 241 The exoticism of leopard skins is shown elsewhere, e.g. Hdt. 7.69.2. 242 Cf. Jason’s claim that he is ‘no stranger’ (οὐ ξείναν) to the land, P. Pi. 4.118. 243 Pi. P. 4.102-19. 244 See, e.g. Stat. Ach. 2.96-100. LIMC s.v. “Achilleus” 81. 245 Detienne (1979) 62.

65 Closely following the lion transformation and the manipulation of the Iliadic context of this creature which distorts the audience’s expectations, Proteus’ metamorphosis into a leopard similarly distances Proteus from what is expected of an Iliadic hero’s opponent, while recalling these scenarios. This third transformation into a creature which is not so commonly the subject of imagery distances Menelaus’ encounter with Proteus from the typical experience of a hero: the leopard may be less firmly established as a violent, aggressive creature (although it is certainly still a predatory animal) but its appearance moves the action further from the realm of the Iliad and typical heroic encounters. From its Iliadic background, furthermore, this is a creature which signals some discrepancy between intention and action, as seen in its attribution to Paris and Menelaus, and is therefore a creature of potentially contradictory associations.

Proteus eventually concludes his series of animal transformations with a metamorphosis into a large boar (μέγας σῦς).246 As discussed above, lions and boars appear together as the vehicle of Homeric similes several times,247 and in these cases they appear as creatures of equal ferocity and danger.248 Idomeneus receives a boar simile at Il. 13.471-5 which presents the animal with fiery eyes (ὀφθαλμὼ δ᾽ ἄρα οἱ πυρὶ λάμπετον) and eager for conflict.249 Despite this, boars are not typical predators,250 and this is reflected both in similes and in the frequency of their appearance in descriptions of meal preparation or sacrifice.251

For instance, similes may be used to show the hierarchy of power in subsequent battles, rather than simply the aggressive nature of the hero himself.252 Patroclus receives three lion similes demonstrating his battle prowess and strength in quick succession,253 yet after being matched by Hector (who also receives a lion

246 σῦς may denote either a wild boar or domesticated pig, LSJ s.v. ὗς A.I.1-2, but the use of μέγας implies great size, LSJ s.v. μέγας A.I.1.c, and in the context of the other dangerous animals into which Proteus transforms I suggest that this must be intended to denote a wild boar. 247 E.g. Il. 5.782, 7.256, 12.42. 248 Scott (1974) 58-9 argues that lion and boar similes are part of the same ‘family’ and that – in similes – these creatures are largely interchangeable. 249 Il. 13.474; see Turkeltaub (2005) 162-3. 250 The boar sent by Zeus at Il. 9538-46 may be considered an exception, but it is distinguished from typical animals by being an instrument of divine vengeance. 251 See, e.g. Il. 9.208, 9.467, 23.32; Od. 8.60, 8.476, 11.131. 252 See Hawtree (2014) 80 for a discussion on the interplay of similes attached to Odysseus, Ajax and the Trojans in Book 11. 253 Il. 16.487-91, 751-4, 756-8.

66 simile at 16.756-8), Patroclus’ attempt to stand in for Achilles fails,254 and his defeat at Hector’s hands is conveyed by a simile of a boar defeated by a lion:

ὡς δ᾽ ὅτε σῦν ἀκάμαντα λέων ἐβιήσατο χάρμῃ, ὥ τ᾽ ὄρεος κορυφῇσι μέγα φρονέοντε μάχεσθον πίδακος ἀμφ᾽ ὀλίγης· ἐθέλουσι δὲ πιέμεν ἄμφω· πολλὰ δέ τ᾽ ἀσθμαίνοντα λέων ἐδάμασσε βίηφιν·255

The boar is clearly, in this context, a lesser creature, a portrayal which is found elsewhere in the epic. In Book 12, for instance, Polypoetes and Leonteus fight like boars (σύεσσιν ἐοικότε),256 but these animals are the object of a hunt. The mountainous location (ἐν ὄρεσσιν) is a reversal of the situation typically depicted in lion similes, in which lions are depicted intruding into farms and therefore leaving their own environment for the purpose of attacking sheep or other animals.257 These boars are attacked in their own environment, while humans are the primary aggressors.

This is also true of the Odyssey; Eurycleia recognises Odysseus by a scar caused by a boar,258 a creature which is described as having a fiery gaze (πῦρ δ᾽ ὀφθαλμοῖσι δεδορκώς) and therefore as an aggressive, frightening animal.259 The attack, however, takes place during a boar hunt and the boar, despite its capacity for harm, is not the aggressor. In this regard, then, Proteus’ transformation into a boar reflects his situation; the shapeshifter is not the aggressor but has been ‘attacked’ in his own environment by a group of men. Like the boar of Iliadic similes, the sea-god is potentially dangerous and fights to defend himself when provoked. This final transformation shows a shift in the nature of Proteus’ animal forms and may indicate the progressive reduction of Proteus’ power. The boar, while huge (μέγας) is simply not as ferocious a creature but is one perfectly fitted to be overcome in a heroic encounter.

Proteus’ sequence of animal transformations therefore encompasses a range of expectations and connotations; he begins his metamorphosis with a lion

254 Scott (2006) 110 discusses similes attached to various heroes in Achilles’ absence; Patroclus is certainly unable to take on Achilles’ role, an idea which is developed by the use of lion cub similes. 255 Il. 16.823-6. 256 Il. 12.146-50. 257 See, e.g. Il. 5.161, 12.292, 16.487. 258 Od. 19.392-4. 259 Od. 19.446. See also Hes. Sc. 168-9 in which boars and lions glare at one another.

67 transformation, a creature which is a fitting opponent for an epic hero, but one which is modified in the context of the Odyssey. The snake, following this, represents a change of tactic – an animal which is less overtly aggressive than the lion but which nonetheless is an object of fear, particularly in its ability to remain hidden and its connection to monsters. The leopard, another dangerous and aggressive animal, emphasises Proteus’ otherness and further removes his conflict with Menelaus from the typical realm of an epic battle; Menelaus’ expectations are disrupted, along with the audience’s, as he is confronted with an exotic animal. The boar, finally, shows a return to Proteus’ original strategy of confronting Menelaus with a creature fit for an epic scenario, but one which differs in character from the lion and better reflects Proteus’ own situation. These transformations form an erratic sequence of creatures which each carry different connotations and therefore lend Proteus his greatest defence – albeit one which must, ultimately, fail – unpredictability. It is the lion, however, which appears to best epitomise the strategy of a shapeshifting figure; this is the creature chosen for both Thetis and Dionysus, and this, I suggest, is a result of the lion’s ubiquity in similes denoting violence and combat. In light of these similes, the presence of a lion in transformation episodes immediately conjures an impression of danger and therefore sets the tone for the struggle which will occur, as is made explicit in Dionysus’ episode when the sailors throw themselves from the ship rather than face the lion; conflict with these beings is thus depicted against the Iliadic model of heroic violence.

68 iii. Elements

Both Proteus and Thetis also transform into ‘elemental’ shapes. Following the series of animal transformations discussed above, Proteus transforms into water and finally into a tree in his encounter with Menelaus, while Thetis becomes ‘all- powerful’ (παγκρατές) fire in her attempt to evade Peleus. In what follows, I shall discuss the nature and symbolism of elemental transformations, in order to explore the connection between these forms and the figures transforming. I shall first focus on Proteus’ final transformation into a tree as a feature unique to his shapeshifting episode and one which bridges the gap between physical, solid animal forms and the elemental shapes. Following this, I shall move on to explore Proteus’ and Thetis’ true elemental transformations into water and fire respectively, and the philosophical associations which may reveal the significances of these shapes.

a. Trees

First, let us briefly consider Proteus’ transformation into a tree alongside the transformation into water. These two transformations appear in the same verse, γίγνετο δ᾽ ὑγρὸν ὕδωρ καὶ δένδρεον ὑψιπέτηλον, and are distinguished from Proteus’ animal transformations not only by being of a different genre of transformation and representing an apparent shift in Proteus’ tactics (as I shall discuss) but also by being introduced by another use of γίγνομαι. We might therefore consider them a pair, albeit of opposites. They are Proteus’ only non- animal forms, and, since a tree may well be seen to represent the land,260 and therefore ‘earth’, it is to some extent an elemental form, although essentially living.261 The opposition these shapes conjure, therefore, between water and land, mirrors Proteus’ very nature: he is a sea deity who may be defeated only at the boundary between these two environments, the sea shore.

260 Mentions of δένδρα are used in descriptions of the land several times in the Odyssey, e.g. Circe’s island at 5.38, and 5.41; Phaeacia at 7.114; Ithaca at 13.196 and 24.336, and see 18.359, 19.112, 19.520. 261 Call. Cer. 39-40 depicts a tree, sacred to Demeter, which, on being cut down, cries out to other trees (ἴαχεν ἄλλαις) and feels pain (ἄλγει). Through Demeter’s focalisation, the audience witnesses the tree’s suffering, suggesting that this tree, at least, is a truly living thing.

69 As a form in its own right, however, I suggest that Proteus’ δένδρεον ὑψιπέτηλον represents a third ‘type’ of form, being neither a truly animate entity, nor a true element. Unlike water, the tree is a solid, physical shape, yet similarly to water and crucially unlike his animal forms, the tree denotes a form of passive resistance to Menelaus’ attack. The adjective ὑψιπέτηλος suggests the tree’s size,262 yet unlike Proteus’ animal transformations, there seems to be no implicit danger in this shape. It is, however, certainly an unexpected metamorphosis as this form is not among those predicted by Eidothea; West reads this form as a ‘tactical error’ on Proteus’ part and thus as a ‘stock element’ of a shapeshifting episode.263 Height is, however, elsewhere used to convey threat and awe, if not physical danger. In the teichoscopia of Iliad 3, for instance, Priam remarks on μέγας Ajax’s height as he towers over the other Greeks (ἔξοχος),264 while in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, the goddess reveals herself to Metaneira having changed her stature and appearance (μέγεθος καὶ εἶδος ἄμειψε).265 μέγεθος may be used to refer simply to human stature, but in this instance must refer to supernatural height,266 as we can infer from the reaction this revelation provokes in Metaneira, who is overwhelmed and promptly collapses (τῆς δ᾽ αὐτίκα γούνατ᾽ ἔλυντο).267 A ‘transformation’ of this sort is presented far more explicitly in Callimachus’ Hymn to Demeter, in which the goddess reveals herself to Erysicthon and his men before punishing them:

Δαμάτηρ δ᾿ ἄφατόν τι κοτέσσατο, γείνατο δ᾿ ἁ θεύς· ἴθματα μὲν χέρσω, κεφαλὰ δέ οἱ ἅψατ᾿ Ὀλύμπω. οἱ μὲν ἄρ᾿ ἡμιθνῆτες, ἐπεὶ τὰν πότνιαν εἶδον268

Callimachus’ description of Demeter here focuses explicitly on the goddess’ incomprehensible height and on the reaction of the mortals to her appearance as a

262 LSJ s.v.v. ὑψιπέτηλος, ὑψι ̆κομος 2. 263 West (1988) ad 4.458. 264 Il. 3.226-7. 265 h.Cer. 275. 266 E.g. Il. 2.58; it is also used in comparison, e.g. at Od. 5.217 to refer to the difference in appearance between Penelope and Calypso, but see Hes. Th. 148-52 on the monstrous size of the Hundred-Handers who are described as τρεῖς παῖδες μεγάλοι, and whose father later envies their stature (μέγεθος), 617-20; cf. Apollod. 1.6.3: Typhon’s μέγεθος surpasses all of Gaia’s children. 267 h.Cer. 281. 268 Call. Cer. 57-9. The manuscript tradition (Ψ) here gives ἁ θεύς, amended by Bergk to αὖ θεύς, a form which is preferred by Hopkinson (1984). However, while αὖ does allow for an easier ‘she became a goddess again’ or ‘returned to being a goddess’, my interpretation – and indeed, the overall meaning – is not significantly affected by this difficulty.

70 god.269 The men, in response to this sight, are described as ‘half-dead’ (ἡμιθνῆτες). This episode is itself inspired by Demeter’s semi-epiphany earlier in the Homeric Hymn, when the goddess’ divine appearance is momentarily visible when she crosses the threshold and her head reaches the roof (μελάθρου / κῦρε κάρη),270 provoking a sudden, intense reaction in Metaneira (τὴν δ᾽ αἰδώς τε σέβας τε ἰδὲ χλωρὸν δέος εἷλεν)271 which foreshadows the effect of Demeter’s full revelation later in the narrative.

Trees, denoted by terms such as τὸ δένδρον, ‘tree’, ἡ δρῦς, ‘oak’, ἡ ἐλατή, ‘pine’, appear frequently in landscape imagery in both epic and other poetic texts.272 The presence of trees in imagery in general relies on trees being understood as particularly strong and resilient features of the landscape, for instance in Hesiod’s depiction of the strength and brutality of the wind in Works and Days, where the narrator describes Boreas knocking down tall oaks (δρῦς ὑψικόμους) and wide pines (ἐλάτας…παχείας).273 This imagery relies upon an established understanding of the strength and steadfastness of trees in order for it to be an effective proof of the wind’s ferocity. In this case therefore, these trees are not able completely to withstand harm, but they are only damaged by something of much greater force. Similarly, the role of trees in nature and in response to water particularly is used as a metaphor for learning and open-mindedness in Antigone, as Haemon refers to trees which yield (ὑπείκει) to the torrents of a stream in order to survive.274 Here, trees which are too rigid perish, just as, Haemon warns, someone who cannot learn will perish.

Furthermore, trees are on several occasions depicted as somehow timeless, not necessarily immortal but, compared to human lifespans, almost incomprehensibly long-lived. A Homeric epigram depicts a bronze maiden who will stand over Midas’ tomb ‘while water flows and tall trees grow’ (ἔστ᾿ ἂν ὕδωρ τε νάῃ, καὶ δένδρεα μακρὰ τεθήλῃ) pointing to the certainty of such conditions.275 The

269 Hopkinson (1984) 131 suggests that such depictions of divinities’ extreme height can be traced back to the depiction of Strife in the Iliad, 4.443: οὐρανῷ ἐστήριξε κάρη καὶ ἐπὶ χθονὶ βαίνει. 270 h.Cer. 188-9. Hopkinson (1984) 131. 271 h.Cer. 190. 272 E.g. Od. 5.238-41, 7.114; Il. 14.398; Theoc. 1.22-3; A.R. 3.968-71. 273 Hes. Erg. 509. 274 S. Ant. 710-14. 275 Epigr. 153.

71 Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite puts forth a similar impression, as it details the connection of the lives of certain oak trees to the lives of nymphs:

τῇσι δ’ ἅμ’ ἢ ἐλάται ἠὲ δρύες ὑψικάρηνοι γεινομένῃσιν […] ἀζάνεται μὲν πρῶτον ἐπὶ χθονὶ δένδρεα καλά276

While these trees are clearly not immortal, they nonetheless carry an impression of longevity, as the lives of nymphs are surely imagined to be longer than those of mortals.277 I shall return to the connection between nymphs and trees below. In the Odyssey, too, Penelope refers to a ‘legendary’ (παλαιφάτου) tree.278 Trees in these instances are features of the landscape, and therefore must not be subject to mortality in the same way as, for instance, animals or humans.

However, trees may also serve a more overt narrative purpose, and Proteus’ δένδρεον ὑψιπέτηλον must be considered in light of another, perhaps even more significant tree in the narrative of the Odyssey, that carved to make Odysseus’ bed. Although named a θάμνος,279 Odysseus describes this plant as τανύφυλλος, an adjective referring to the olive tree’s leaves that may also suggest the plant’s height and width.280 In this regard Odysseus’ olive tree recalls Proteus’ δένδρεον ὑψιπέτηλον and is similarly fixed in the ground. Odysseus remarks on the difficulty (χαλεπὸν) of moving his bed;281 as such, knowledge of this tree functions as a recognition token for Odysseus and Penelope. This motif of secret knowledge further links these two trees – through describing the bed-tree, Odysseus convinces Penelope of his identity,282 whereas the tree form, as Proteus’ final shape, is the final obstacle Menelaus must overcome in order to learn about his fellow heroes, hidden knowledge held by Proteus. Through this link, moreover, Odysseus and

276 h.Ven. 264-5, 270, see Call. Del. 83. 277 Hes. fr.304 M-W; Larson (2001) 4. 278 Od. 19.163. 279 Od. 23.190. This term usually suggests a ‘shrub’ or ‘bush’, LSJ s.v. θάμνος, I, yet Russo et al. (1992) 334 suggest this term likely refers instead to the trunk of the tree, and indeed the trunk is the significant part for this story. 280 LSJ s.v. τανύφυλλος, II. The tree’s width is also suggested by context, as its trunk is wide enough to be carved into a bed by Odysseus (23.199). Furthermore, ἐλαία can be associated with either δένδρον or θάμνος: h.Cer. 100: πεφύκει θάμνος ἐλαίη; Ar. Av. 617: δένδρον ἐλάας. 281 Od. 23.184. 282 Od. 23.225-6: νῦν δ᾽, ἐπεὶ ἤδη σήματ᾽ ἀριφραδέα κατέλεξας / εὐνῆς ἡμετέρης. This links the Odyssey to AT 974 Homecoming Husband; see Hansen (2002) 201-11.

72 Menelaus are linked, Menelaus’ struggles mirroring Odysseus’ previous labours, a connection which further features in Proteus’ metamorphosis into water.

Despite this connection, the tree form is somewhat unusual as a conscious act of resistance; few Homeric similes involve a human likened to a tree, and all, with one notable exception, are used to depict a hero defeated in battle. One such simile accompanies Alcathoos’ defeat in battle:

τὸν τόθ᾽ ὑπ᾽ Ἰδομενῆϊ Ποσειδάων ἐδάμασσε θέλξας ὄσσε φαεινά, πέδησε δὲ φαίδιμα γυῖα· οὔτε γὰρ ἐξοπίσω φυγέειν δύνατ᾽ οὔτ᾽ ἀλέασθαι, ἀλλ᾽ ὥς τε στήλην ἢ δένδρεον ὑψιπέτηλον ἀτρέμας ἑσταότα στῆθος μέσον οὔτασε δουρὶ ἥρως Ἰδομενεύς, ῥῆξεν δέ οἱ ἀμφὶ χιτῶνα χάλκεον, ὅς οἱ πρόσθεν ἀπὸ χροὸς ἤρκει ὄλεθρον·283

Here, Alcathoos is likened specifically to a ‘towering’ (ὑψιπέτηλον) tree, yet this tree does not signify a form of defence; instead, Alcathoos has been paralysed by Poseidon and stands motionless (ἀτρέμας ἑσταότα), before being killed. This tree imagery therefore describes an inability to defend oneself, quite in opposition to Proteus’ transformation into the same form. Similar readings can be drawn from other Iliadic similes of this type; both Hector and Asius are likened to trees falling and their defeat is signalled through these similes.284

On the other hand, a simile of oak trees is attached to Polypoetes and Leonteus guarding the Greek ships in Iliad 12,285 in which the fixity of trees with deep, unbroken roots (ῥίζῃσιν μεγάλῃσι διηνεκέεσσ᾽ ἀραρυῖαι) suggests the men’s courage and resilience in the face of the Trojans’ attack. Like Proteus’ tree, these oaks are described as tall (ὑψικάρηνος), but again this strength and size represents a passive resistance. As such, when the two begin their attack they are instead likened to boars,286 and trees (ὕλην) instead feature as the victims of their aggression. In contrast to the trees of the first simile, which withstand the elements day by day, those of the second example cannot withstand the boars’ attack but are

283 Il. 13.434-40. 284 Asius: Il. 13.389 and cf. 16.482; Hector: 14.414. Cf. S. El. 97-9: Electra describes Agamemnon’s murder in terms of felling an oak tree (ὅπως δρῦν ὑλοτόμοι). 285 Il. 12.127-36. 286 Il. 12.145-53.

73 cut off at the root. The juxtaposition of these two similes explicitly positions the strength of the boars against the trees.

However, Proteus’ aim, as discussed previously, is not to escape Menelaus or avoid any one attack – instead, he must simply try to present himself in such a way that it is impossible for Menelaus to grasp him. The use of ὑψιπέτηλος allows for this condition to be met; we may assume that the tree he becomes is not only tall, but also wide. Furthermore, following his transformation into explicitly formless (ὑγρός) water, the transformation into a tree also represents a sudden return to form and substance. Therefore, it is not only by shape itself that this metamorphosis features among Proteus’ transformations intended to aid his resistance, but also by proximity. A close reading of this transformation and its epic connotations might lead us therefore to reconsider West’s dismissal of the transformation into a tree as a ‘tactical error’ on Proteus’ part, included by the poet in this transformation sequence as a ‘stock element in the description of a shapeshifter’. In fact, the tree is unique to Proteus among the shapeshifting figures and carries sufficient implications within the text that it is not incongruous, nor should it be read as an anomaly included simply to flesh out Proteus’ transformation episode. Rather, the appearance of an unexpected form emphasises the spontaneity and fluidity of Proteus’ transformation sequence, as will be expanded upon in analysing his water transformation, and the tree’s height – recalling descriptions of gods appearing to mortals – serves as a reminder of Proteus’ divinity, emphasising the danger of Menelaus’ task and the potential value of Proteus’ help if secured.

Finally, I shall briefly return to the passage concerning the lives of trees and nymphs from the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite, as I wish to explore the gendered implications that this association may have for Proteus. As discussed, trees may be used in similes describing Homeric heroes, yet this is largely a negative description. In fact, it is female nymphs who are regularly associated with vegetation and in particular trees such as oaks or poplars.287 These trees, while not iterations of the

287 In fact, belief in nymphs as tree-spirits is common to many Indo-European cultures, see Larson (2001) 33.

74 nymphs themselves, are nonetheless represented as essential to their lives, such that the term Ἁμαδρυάδες comes to describe these nymphs.288

Therefore while Proteus becomes a δένδρεον, rather than any specific tree, the undeniably female associations of trees through their close proximity to nymphs must have an effect on his transformation. The Hymn suggests a taboo surrounding the act of harming these trees, and indeed there exist myths in which a tree linked to the life of a nymph is supported in some way by a mortal male, to whom the nymph grants the promise of a sexual encounter in return,289 while conversely, in response to cutting down the tree of a nymph, the mortal may be cursed.290 The situations described in these two myth types carry clear resemblances. The tree is Proteus’ last attempt at preserving his freedom (and thus his way of life, if not his life per se), just as the nymphs depend on the safety of their trees. A mortal figure must interact with the tree, while the supernatural beings involved can do nothing actively to protect either themselves or the tree. In Proteus’ myth the story is inverted, however, as the mortal intervention is what will bring about the deity’s downfall. Despite this opposition, Proteus’ transformation and Menelaus’ interaction with the shapeshifter in this form recall the associations of nymphs with trees, and thus through this shape Proteus is somewhat feminised – the tree, in light of these associations, is far removed from the heroic associations of his lion form.

b. Water

Next, I shall explore the significance of Proteus’ water transformation. As a sea god, water seems the most natural of Proteus’ transformations and indeed is among Eidothea’s predictions (γιγνόμενος πειρήσεται…καὶ ὕδωρ) – however, water is fitting not only because of this but because of, as I shall demonstrate, its

288 LSJ s.v. Ἁμαδρυάδες. A.R. 2.477. Larson (2001) 73-4 notes that while the nymphs of the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite are not explicitly called Ἁμαδρυάδες (as the term is first attested much later) this idea is still conveyed. 289 See, e.g. the tale of Rhoecus attributed to Charon of Lampsacus, Σ. A.R.2.477, and cf. Theoc. 3.13 which appears to reference a similar narrative. 290 A.R. 2.475-83; cf. Call. Cer. 65-7. Although meted out by Demeter rather than a nymph, Erysichthon’s punishment is nonetheless a direct consequence of failing to heed Demeter’s advice and cutting down the tree. This tree, moreover, is connected with nymphs (37-8), which Hopkinson (1984) 115 suggests are likely to be Hamadryads.

75 formlessness and propensity for change, and the connection it generates between Odysseus and Menelaus.

As Proteus is a sea deity, water represents an essential part of his nature – as an element it is a physically strong force, but it is changeable, unpredictable and ancient, like the Old Man of the Sea himself. The water, too, is fitting for his series of transformations as it is by its very nature difficult or even impossible to hold on to. Like the tree, Proteus’ water represents a form of passive resistance to Menelaus’ attack, where the offensive and aggressive attempts of his animal forms failed to deter the hero. Water, although certainly powerful and active in the sense of movement and erosion, cannot by nature be a conscious aggressor – the sea may be dangerous, even depicted as treacherous, but is not sentient and therefore cannot be understood as a predator or intentionally harmful.291 This impression is contributed to by the use of the adjective ὑγρός, ‘liquid’,292 to which I shall return later on, as this term emphasises the formlessness of Proteus’ transformation.

However, while Proteus in his water form cannot attack Menelaus as such, this transformation may carry the threat of drowning or death at sea and therefore does contain inherent danger. Within the Odyssey itself, this threat of drowning is later actualised in the deaths of Odysseus’ companions at sea, which Odysseus describes in terms of their nostoi being taken away (θεὸς δ᾽ ἀποαίνυτο νόστον),293 tying this fate into the larger theme of the epic.294

1. Philosophical properties of water

Water also presents the opportunity for a brief discussion on the element’s believed philosophical properties in relation to Proteus’ transformations. Philosophical thought provides a useful means with which to think about this element, as these views may indicate more general attitudes towards and

291 The Odyssean Charybdis (Od. 12.104-7) certainly represents a predatory aspect of the sea, yet even Charybdis is presented as a monster in the sea, carefully distinguished from the sea itself. 292 LSJ s.v. ὑγρός, I. 293 Od. 12.417-19. The threat of drowning is elsewhere associated with the sea, particularly with sea travel and in military contexts, e.g. Hdt. 8.89.2, X. An. 5.7.25. This threat therefore roots Menelaus’ encounter with Proteus in the very real concerns of sailors. 294 I explore the depiction and impact of water including its potential dangers in chapter 2.2.

76 assumptions surrounding water, for instance in relation to its changeable nature, which may underlie its association with his transformation cycle.295 Aristotle, in his Metaphysics, discusses the theories of several early philosophers linked by a common belief in a ‘primary element’ or ἀρχή.296 According to Aristotle’s account, Thales, one of the Ionian monists, believed that everything in existence arose from a single element, water:

τὸ μέντοι πλῆθος καὶ τὸ εἶδος τῆς τοιαύτης ἀρχῆς οὐ τὸ αὐτὸ πάντες λέγουσιν, ἀλλὰ Θαλῆς μὲν ὁ τῆς τοιαύτης ἀρχηγὸς φιλοσοφίας ὕδωρ φησὶν εἶναι […]

[…] διά τε δὴ τοῦτο τὴν ὑπόληψιν λαβὼν ταύτην, καὶ διὰ τὸ πάντων τὰ σπέρματα τὴν φύσιν ὑγρὰν ἔχειν, τὸ δ᾿ ὕδωρ ἀρχὴν τῆς φύσεώς εἶναι τοῖς ὑγροῖς.297

While this is, as Guthrie notes, framed in terms of Aristotle’s own thoughts and language, it is nonetheless an important aspect of the possible associations of water.298 As Algra suggests, there seems to be a discrepancy between Aristotle’s description of the ἀρχή and the conclusions he attributes to Thales, as Aristotle describes it as something from which all things are still composed (ἐξ οὗ γὰρ ἔστιν ἅπαντα τὰ ὄντα),299 while there is no indication of this principle in Thales’ thought.300 However, in order for this line of thought to reveal some of the potential implications for Proteus’ transformation, water need only be that from which matter arises, as Aristotle suggests.301 It is possible that similar beliefs or understandings could have influenced both Proteus’ connection to water and the later philosophical views surrounding this element. If water was considered to be the ‘original’ matter or substance, assumed to carry connotations of versatility and

295 Much work has already been carried out more generally into the philosophical approaches to water: for this, see e.g. Guthrie (1962), Kirk (1957), Mourelatos (2008), Graham (2008), Algra (1999). While philosophical views naturally may diverge from ‘common thinking’ it is plausible that links would exist between these two groups of thought, as philosophical views may have stemmed from general understanding. 296 Arist. Metaph. 983b7-984b8. LSJ s.v. ἀρχή, I.2. 297 Arist. Metaph. 983b20-3, 27-9. 298 Guthrie (1962) 45. Guthrie further discusses the difficulties of assessing Aristotle’s statements in terms of the beliefs of the Milesians and other early philosophers both in linguistic and ideological terms, and notes that since ἀρχή carried the meaning of beginning or origin by the time of the Homeric poems, this at least is an appropriate term in which to frame the Milesian philosophers’ thoughts (57). 299 Arist. Metaph. 983b9. 300 Algra (1999) 50-1; see Kirk (1957) 89. 301 To follow Aristotle’s (983b9-10) description of the primary substance as ἐξ οὗ γὰρ ἔστιν ἅπαντα τὰ ὄντα, καὶ ἐξ οὗ γίγνεται πρώτου.

77 change, this would be a natural transformation for Proteus, given the enormity of his transformative abilities. Similarly, that philosophers chose water as an ‘original’ substance or ‘fluidity’ as a quality suggests an understanding of this as somehow malleable, as in order for such a substance to be the sole origin of everything in existence, it must have been considered to be changeable or even alive.302 Certainly, Aristotle associates a link between ἀρχή and ψυχή with the philosophers Diogenes and Heraclitus, although their beliefs differed from Thales’,303 and suggests that Thales considered the soul to be linked to movement (κινητικόν τι τὴν ψυχήν),304 although no explicit link is made between this belief and his thoughts on water as ἀρχή. As a liquid, however, it is natural to assume that Thales had in mind water’s ability to take on any shape when positing this as the original substance. Moreover, water or moisture is common to several Ionian beliefs, such as Xenophanes’ assertion that all matter stems from earth and water.305 Thus, although this is certainly a later formalised belief, I suggest that the properties which may have prompted the thought of water as ἀρχή would have been understood by Greeks far earlier, and this, in turn, may contribute to the strengthened association between Proteus and water, who is himself ancient and not just of the sea, but literally becomes water. Indeed, the Sea (Πόντος) – an embodiment of water, despite being envisaged as a god with a presumably anthropomorphic shape – is a primordial force in Greek mythology, a feature intricately involved with the world’s creation.306

2. Proteus’ character and the formlessness of water

Proteus’ transformation into water, of course, serves as a vivid reminder of his nature as a sea deity, but this transformation is doubly appropriate for the shapeshifter as the formlessness and shapelessness of water recalls his ability to take on any shape. Heraclitus uses a river as an analogy for the state of flux:

302 Guthrie (1962) 64-7, Algra (1999) 53. 303 Arist. de An. 405a23-7. 304 Arist. de An. 405a20-2. 305 Xenoph. 29, cf. Anaximen. Test. 5 (= Simpl. Phys. 24, 26). Mourelatos (2008) 138 suggests a clear link between Xenophanes’ views and those of Thales and Anaximenes, and see also 156-8. 306 Hes. Th. 131-2; Beaulieu (2016a) 1-2.

78 ποταμοῖς τοῖς αὐτοῖς ἐμβαίνομέν τε καὶ οὐκ ἐμβαίνομεν, εἶμέν τε καὶ οὐκ εἶμεν.307

This principle is expanded by Plato:

λέγει που Ἡράκλειτος ὅτι πάντα χωρεῖ καὶ οὐδὲν μένει καὶ ποταμοῦ ῥοῇ ἀπεικάζων τὰ ὄντα λέγει ὡς δὶς ἐς τὸν αὐτὸν ποταμὸν οὐκ ἂν ἐμβαίης.308

In Heraclitean thought, all matter is in a state of constant flux, and thus one cannot step into the same river (ποταμοῖς τοῖς αὐτοῖς) twice because of its flowing nature; that is, while the river itself may be the same, the water is constantly changing and being replaced, and the river’s identity is thus paradoxical (ἐμβαίνομέν τε καὶ οὐκ ἐμβαίνομεν) and its nature is rooted in this constant shifting.309 In the same way, ‘all things’ (πάντα) and humans undergo changes of identity (εἶμέν τε καὶ οὐκ εἶμεν). For this analogy to hold argumentative force, this flowing principle must have been a widely held understanding of water,310 and thus the inherent changeability and movement of water were everyday associations in the ancient world, as they are today. In fact, this state of flux may apply even more strongly to Proteus, who does not simply reside in, or transform into, water but appears, at least to some extent, to be made up of this, as his sequences of transformations and identity are as fleeting as Heraclitus’s river. Eidothea’s mistaken prediction of his transformation into fire may not simply indicate her fallibility or that of Menelaus as narrator, or a failing on Proteus’ part, but instead could indicate varying possibilities of Proteus’ metamorphic episode: no two encounters with the god need necessarily be the same.311

In light of water’s appropriateness – or even its being essential – to Proteus’ transformation episode, therefore, it is striking that this is his only water-based transformation, as all the animals into which he transforms are land animals, and even the seals that he ‘herds’ are depicted on land, having left the water along with the god.312 As stated in the Introduction, proximity to water is one of the more prominent resemblances connecting various shapeshifters, and this transformation

307 Heracl. Alleg. 24.4 308 Pl. Cra. 402a. 309 See Graham (2008). 310 Indeed, this principle is displayed much later in Catullus 70.4, in which the poet uses an analogy of running water (rapida…aqua) as a comment on the contrariness of a woman’s words. 311 See Baumbach (2013) 156. 312 Od. 4.404-6.

79 therefore even more firmly emphasises the god’s connection to this element. Additionally, the reinforcement of the role of water in his transformation sequence brings Proteus ever closer to the monstrous, liminal beings which reside near water, such as Scylla, who is not formless as such, but rather a multi-formed hybrid, as are many Greek monsters.313

The adjective used to describe Proteus’ water transformation, ὑγρός, carries implications of its own which modify the expectations surrounding this metamorphosis. In relation to water, we may understand this term as denoting ‘moistness’ or ‘liquidity’ and therefore as comparable to Heraclitus’ statements discussed above;314 in Proteus’ metamorphosis, then, ὑγρός emphasises the formless, changeable character of the water, just as ἠυγένειος is employed to emphasise the majesty of the lion into which he transforms. ὑγρός, furthermore, is not used exclusively of the sea or even of water, but can describe other liquids.315 However, this adjective is more complex – it does not simply describe liquids or stand in for the sea, but also expresses the softness or suppleness of solid objects or of movement.316 Similarly, the term is used to describe the suppleness (or, perhaps, softness) of youth, for instance in Plato’s description of Eros (ὑγρὸς τὸ εἶδος).317 In both senses, therefore, this term can suggest movement; in Proteus’ case, ὑγρός may describe the water itself, but perhaps also the ‘flowing’ metamorphoses the sea god undergoes.

Aside from these connections, ὑγρός is regularly linked specifically with the sea – an association highly pertinent to the Odyssean context of Proteus’ metamorphosis, and which thus deserves closer attention. The adjective is used several times in the Odyssey and the Iliad to stand in for, rather than simply describe the sea, specifically with reference to sailing. The phrase πουλὺν ἐφ᾽ ὑγρήν is used in both the Odyssey and the Iliad to denote journeys across the ‘wide

313 Scylla exhibits a multiplicity of bodily features (Od. 12.89-92), all of which add to the horror of Odysseus’ encounter with her. See Clay (1993) 106, Hopman (2012) 31-3, and cf. monsters such as πεντηκοντακέφαλος Cerberus, Hes. Th. 311-2, and Typhon, Hes. Th. 824-35, excessive in both physical appearance and voice: see Goslin (2010). 314 LSJ s.v. ὑγρός, I.1. 315 It is often associated with olive oil, see, e.g. Od. 6.79, 6.215, 7.107; Il. 23.281, and may describe milk, Il. 5.901-3. 316 Pindar describes an eagle raising the feathers of its ὑγρὸν νῶτον ‘soft/flexible back’, P. 1.9. While ὑγρόν here grammatically modifies νῶτον, in proximity to the verb αἰωρέω it describes the bird’s back in motion. See Guthrie (1962) 61-2. 317 Pl. Smp. 196a2, and cf. 196a5: ὑγρᾶς ἰδέας μέγα τεκμήριον ἡ εὐσχημοσύνη, where the concept is linked to elegance and therefore suggests movement.

80 seas’,318 while ὑγρὰ κέλευθα, ‘watery ways’, occurs several times in the Homeric works.319 Additionally, ὑγρός may be used by itself to describe the sea,320 or in parallel with τραφερός to signify metonymically the sea and the land respectively,321 as in all cases the environment is described by its defining characteristic. The emphasis on travel is natural for a sea-faring society such as the Greeks, whose primary interaction with the sea would have been in this vein.

Therefore, while ὑγρός is not exclusively associated with the sea, and ὕδωρ simply suggests water,322 the use of this adjective and noun combination – unique in Greek epic poetry to this Homeric passage323 – naturally recalls this ever-present feature of the narrative’s landscape and the threat associated with it.324 In fact, Proteus’ transformation into water – since it is assigned no boundaries of size – may represent the sea itself, particularly if we consider this to be the god’s truest form. Through this association, the audience are reminded of the sea as a feature to be travelled, and, as such, of its enormity and boundlessness that is a common motif of Homeric poetry.325 Thus, ὑγρός may be understood to indicate both the ‘liquid’ nature of this particular transformation, and consequently the near- impossibility of grasping it, and also implicitly to suggest its potential endlessness.

c. Fire

In Pindar’s Nemean 4 Thetis transforms into ‘all-powerful fire’ (πῦρ … παγκρατές), yet although Eidothea predicts θεσπιδαής fire as one of Proteus’ transformations and we can therefore understand that he possesses this capability, he does not become fire during his encounter with Menelaus.

As mentioned above, Thetis’ transformation into ‘all-powerful’ fire is linked to the earlier depiction of the goddess ruling Phthia. As well as generating a more

318 Od. 4.709; Il. 10.27 319 Od. 3.71, 4.842, 15.474; Il. 1.312 320 Od. 1.91, 5.45, 24.341 321 Od. 20.98; Il. 14.308 322 LSJ s.v. ὕδωρ, I.1. 323 TLG s.vv. ὕδωρ and ὑγρός. 324 Outside epic, τὸ δ’ ὕδωρ ὑγρόν is commonly given simply as a means of distinguishing the essential qualities of water as opposed to that of the other elements, e.g. Anaximand. 16.12-3: ὁ μὲν ἀὴρ ψυχρός, τὸ δ’ ὕδωρ ὑγρόν, / τὸ δὲ πῦρ θερμόν, and see, e.g. Ocell. 2.11.2, 2.14.2. 325 See Beaulieu (2016a).

81 tangible link between the two appearances of Thetis, this description of the fire as παγκρατές also emphasises the potential danger that the element represents, and is particularly striking as this is the only use of this epithet for fire in the Greek corpus.326 In Pindar, fire is given a range of epithets which describe it as burning, cruel or hostile, or everlasting,327 but none which suggest ‘power’ or authority as explicitly as παγκρατής; through this, Thetis’ transformation is distinguished from other appearances of fire. Elsewhere in Greek poetry παγκρατής is used several times as an epithet for Zeus, suggesting a strong link between this adjective and the most powerful of the gods,328 and indeed Pindar’s only other use of this adjective occurs in the Dithyrambs, where it is used to describe Zeus’ thunderbolt: ὁ παγκρατὴς κεραυνὸς ἀμπνέων / πῦρ.329 The mention of fire in both instances of Pindar’s use of this word is striking; the use of both παγκρατής and πῦρ allows for a link to be drawn between Thetis’ ‘all-powerful fire’ and Zeus’ ‘all-powerful fire breathing thunderbolt’. In Pindar’s fourth Nemean, therefore, Thetis’ πῦρ…παγκρατές not only recalls her authority in Phthia but may also draw attention to her potential for rivalling Zeus through her prophesied child, and emphasises the threat she as a mother represents to Zeus’ (male) order.

Moreover, this transformation not only links Thetis to Zeus through the use of παγκρατής, but also connects Thetis with heroes and monsters. The eyes of heroes or monsters are often described in terms of fire burning, and this gaze may be offensive in its own right, as well as representing their power and intention to attack.330 In these cases, fire is related to anger and excess of emotion; I argue that the same is true of Thetis’ transformation. The fire transformation could therefore be interpreted as an aggressive transgression into the heroic, male sphere, and simultaneously links Thetis’ transformations to depictions of monsters.331

Additionally, just as water is related to the formlessness and change brought about by movement, fire is similarly shapeless and unpredictable, and

326 TLG s.v.v. πῦρ; παγκρατής. 327 E.g. Pi. O. 1.1, P. 4.225 (burning), O. 10.36, fr.52b.30 (cruel, hostile), P. 1.6 (everlasting). 328 See, e.g. A. Th. 255, Supp. 816, Eu. 918; E. fr.431.4, 329 Pi. fr.70b.15-16. 330 See e.g. Typhon: Hes. Th. 828, Achilles: Il. 19.365-6; Hector: Il. 12.467. Lovatt (2013) 310-12. 331 Thetis’ connection to the monstrous, hinted at by her fire transformation, is further developed in her transgressive behaviour towards her children and in her rejection of marriage, as I discuss further below, chapter 2.3.

82 indeed carries its own connections to metamorphosis,332 which may influence its appearance in Thetis’ transformation sequence and the reader’s expectations. In the motif of immortalising a child (discussed in chapter 3.2), the mother-figure places her child into the fire in order to burn away his mortality. This motif is depicted with varying levels of success which represent its inherent danger and transgressive, inhuman nature, as well as its potential for realisation. Similarly, the funeral pyre features as a transformative object with which Heracles attains immortality in Sophocles’ Trachiniae.333 However, this connection is not limited to the mythological or literary spheres: fire may additionally be said to have transformative powers of its own in everyday life, such as, for example, with regards to the irreversible change brought about by cooking or burning. Just as Proteus’ water transformation is, in the Odyssean context, in many ways impossible to distinguish from the connotations of water and the sea, so too is Thetis’ fire impossible to distinguish from its uses and potential dangers in both mythology and in everyday life.

Fire is not used alone in cooking but can be used to heat water; this connection is transformative in everyday life and is again exploited in myth. In Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Medea tricks Pelias’ daughters into killing their father in the belief that they would grant him a second youth, an important – and deadly – stage of which involves placing his body into boiling water.334 Similarly, Pindar describes the circumstances of Pelops’ rebirth from a cauldron, as he is pulled by Clotho from a λέβης, and later refers to fire and boiling water (ὕδατος ὅτι τε πυρὶ ζέοισαν εἰς ἀκμάν).335 Fire is thus not only transformative in and of itself, but can act as a vehicle for transformations; in either circumstance, however, the danger to mortals is clear and irreversible.

Perhaps owing to these properties and fire’s primordial significance to civilisation, as shown, for instance, in the myth of Prometheus providing fire for

332 Detienne and Vernant (1978) 281. 333 S. Tr. 1195-9, 1208-9. 334 Ov. Met. 7.331-349, cf. E. Med. 486-7, Pi. P. 4.250: Μήδειαν … τὰν Πελίαο φόνον. 335 Pi. Ol. 1.26-7; 48. Gerber (1982) 55-8, 82-8 discusses the nature of Pindar’s retelling and dismissal of the original myth of the cannibalism. The λέβης was not used for washing children, Gerber argues, so the first appearance of Pelops is unlikely to imply his birth; rather, it ‘must here be the ‘cauldron’ in which Pelops was restored to life and it is therefore the same cauldron as that implied in v48’ (57). Although Pindar disregards this myth in favour of one which better suits his purpose the theme of transformation through the vehicle of the cauldron, water and fire nonetheless underlies his ode.

83 mankind,336 fire is another element reportedly theorised as the ἀρχή. Aristotle states that Heraclitus, along with Hippasus of Metapontum, considered fire as the primary element underlying nature.337 Heraclitus described all matter as ‘ever- living fire’:

κόσμον τόνδε, τὸν αὐτὸν ἁπάντων, οὔτε τις θεῶν οὔτε ἀνθρώπων ἐποίησεν, ἀλλ’ ἦν ἀεὶ καὶ ἔστιν καὶ ἔσται πῦρ ἀείζωον, ἁπτόμενον μέτρα καὶ ἀποσβεννύμενον μέτρα.338

Guthrie suggests that the description of fire as ‘ever-living’ (ἀείζωον) rather than ‘ever-lasting’ allows for its identification with the psyche,339 and attributes to fire a life beyond that which can be assumed from its typical Homeric epithets which, describing tangible occurrences of fire rather than the element in the abstract, commonly refer rather to it as ‘burning’ or ‘destructive’.340 The phrase ἀκάματον πῦρ does however appear to convey a somewhat similar sense of life, at least in terms of energy.341 The seemingly paradoxical juxtaposition of igniting and extinguishing (ἁπτόμενον…ἀποσβεννύμενον) relates to the movement associated with water, and may emphasise the transformative nature of the elements; although to Heraclitus, it seems, fire is the primary form of matter, its constant movement and changeability means it does not exist in one form.342

However, while fire is therefore to some extent fluid and changeable, and may in some instances carry its own transformative powers as well, it is also dangerous in its own right. Homeric epithets for fire, as stated above, commonly emphasise its destructive potential. Epithets such as ὀλοός, αἶνος, and μαλερός emphasise the potential of fire to cause harm, particularly in the Iliad, where fire may be a feature of battle scenes and these depictions heighten the tension of the war atmosphere.343 θεσπιδαής is used several times of fire in the Iliad, notably in an epic simile likening Achilles’ to a raging fire, twice to describe Hephaestus’ use of fire, and of Patroclus’ pyre.344 In the Odyssey, however, θεσπιδαής is only used to

336 Hes. Op. 50-2. See Williams (2013) 233. 337 Arist. Met. 984a7-9. 338 Heraclit. 30. 339 Guthrie (1962) 459. 340 E.g. κήλεος (Il. 8.217, 8.235; Od. 9.328) and δάιος (Il. 2.415, 6.331, 8.181). 341 Od. 21.181; Il. 5.4. In Homer this adjective is used exclusively of fire: LSJ s.v. ἀκάματος. 342 Guthrie (1962) 432, 460. 343 See, e.g., Il. 12.175-80 and particularly 16.122-7, in which the repetition of πῦρ (122, 124, 127) provokes Achilles to hurry Patroclus into battle. 344 Il. 20.490, 21.342, 21.381, 23.216.

84 refer to Proteus’ potential fire, while the majority of epithets for fire refer to its size or describe it as ‘burning’.345

In light of the explicit danger fire represents, it seems all the more surprising that Proteus does not take on this form in defending himself against Menelaus,346 particularly as the apparent opposition between the elements of fire and water is often resolved by their use together in transformations. However, considering the connection between Proteus and Poseidon which is, as discussed above, strengthened considerably by Proteus' water form and essential to the structural makeup of the Odyssey, it is perhaps natural that Proteus should be associated more strongly with water. As a result of his narrative positioning which allows Menelaus’ struggle to be a parallel to Odysseus’, the appearance of fire would perhaps lead to too great a disparity. As previously mentioned, the divergence between Eidothea's prediction and Proteus' actual transformation sequence lends the encounter unpredictability, which may be considered another of Proteus’ defences. However, one could also argue that it is the difference in consequence which leads to Proteus failing to transform into fire: if captured by Peleus, Thetis will become a wife and therefore her status will change (although, as discussed above, this is not necessarily a permanent change). Proteus, on the other hand, need only reveal information to Menelaus, before being released and presumably returning to his seals. His failure to become fire, then, could indicate a lack of total resistance and perhaps even some willingness to be captured, as the narrative demands.

d. Air

Following on from our discussion of these forms, which represent three of the four basic elements (if we consider that the tree symbolises earth), it is notable that air alone is not featured in shapeshifting episodes. However, Thetis, at least, seems able to transform into mist for the purpose of travel.347 She is described coming out of the sea to meet Achilles as ‘like a mist’ (ἠΰτ’ ὀμίχλη), a form which perhaps

345 E.g. πῦρ … μέγα (Od. 5.59, 23.51), πυρὸς … αἰθομένοιο (11.220, 19.39), ἐν πυρὶ πολλῷ (12.237). 346 Cf. West (1988) ad 4.458. 347 Il. 1.359. Kirk (1985) 90 notes that this is a natural form for a sea goddess.

85 reflects the relationship between water and air or clouds, and thus may show her ability to move freely between these environments, as ὀμίχλη suggests some relationship to water, a connection similar to that of the philosophical arguments discussed above. It is unclear here whether Thetis literally transforms into mist in order to leave the sea (and, if this is the case, no mention is made of her subsequent, presumed transformation back into human form, other than that she sits next to Achilles before addressing him), and so this may instead be suggestive of natural phenomena or the manner of her leaving the sea. However, in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes, Hermes is described as travelling like a breeze or mist (αὔρῃ ὀπωρινῇ ἐναλίγκιος, ἠΰτ’ ὀμίχλη), this time in order to describe his movement through a keyhole.348 Richardson notes similarities between this episode and various episodes describing the appearance of dream images, such as in Book 4 of the Odyssey, but that thieves such as Hermes ‘are credited with magic powers, such as the ability to pass through keyholes’.349 However, I suggest that the use of ὀμίχλη links this episode more firmly to Thetis’ appearance in the Iliad, particularly as both explicitly refer to movement, and, consequently, that this must be intended to show some change of form or substance, in a figure who is not so clearly related to water, nor to transformation cycles. From this we may assume, I suggest, a similar change of form in Thetis’ appearance to Achilles, and therefore the ability to transform into an air-like substance.

The lack of air-based transformations is therefore peculiar to shapeshifting episodes, as nowhere is the possibility of a shapeshifting figure transforming into air during their transformation sequence suggested. This, however, is logical: if Proteus or Thetis were to become air when attempting to evade these attempts, they would likely become invisible and thus physically impossible not only to grasp but also to see. While water is formless in that it may take on any shape or volume and thus slip away from one’s grasp, it is at least always visible in liquid form and therefore allows for the challenge to be ‘realistically’ difficult, rather than simply impossible for the human tasked with capturing the deity.

348 h.Mer. 145-7. 349 Richardson (2010) ad 146-7.

86 1.3 Transferred metamorphosis

In the first part of this chapter, I explored the different genres of transformation which exist in Greek myth. Now I shall turn my attention to another distinction between types of transformation, this time found within myths of shapeshifters. The shapeshifters themselves assume a variety of different shapes in response to being threatened: this is the central element of the tale. However, a second type of transformation which links the depictions of these shapeshifting characters can be found in the instances in which the transformation seems to surpass the shapeshifter’s physical limits, affecting other characters involved in the scene and even, in certain circumstances, the physical space around the event. As I shall discuss, this motif links literary and artistic depictions of shapeshifters and allows us to identify connections between these media, further enhancing our understanding of shapeshifters. This is distinct from instances of gods explicitly transforming mortals which, as discussed in chapter 1.1, depict the power and threat of the figure performing the act, and occur as individual events which are often – though not always – reversible. Transferred metamorphoses, as I term them, are those instances of transformation which are not explicitly, or specifically, caused by the shapeshifter, but rather occur as part of the depiction of a shapeshifting episode. While the episodes I shall discuss below do contain some structural similarities to the actions of Circe or Zeus, such as the power dynamic or the punitive result, they occur – I shall argue – as a result of the environment of flux caused by the presence of a shapeshifter and serve to emphasise the ambiguity inherent in their depictions. The presence of this motif in Dionysus’ Hymn enables us to read his transformations – and those of his pirate captors – aboard the pirate ship against Proteus’ transformation in the Odyssey and Menelaus’ seal-skin disguise, and is further proof of Dionysus’ belonging to the family of shapeshifters.

i. Dionysus

I begin here with Dionysus and the shapeshifting episode depicted in his Homeric Hymn. Dionysus, as discussed in the Introduction,350 may not at first glance fit into

350 See also Forbes Irving (1990) 191-194 for a general discussion of Dionysus’ attributes in relation to shapeshifters.

87 the same category of figures as Proteus and Thetis. In the Hymn, however, we are presented with clear proof of his transformative abilities and control over his environment through the transferred metamorphosis of the pirates into dolphins: it is through this occurrence that the strongest argument may be made for his inclusion in this category of transformers.

Towards the end of the Hymn, a number of the pirates attempt to escape the lion’s attack:

οἳ δὲ θύραζε κακὸν μόρον ἐξαλύοντες πάντες ὁμῶς πήδησαν, ἐπεὶ ἴδον, εἰς ἅλα δῖαν, δελφῖνες δ᾽ ἐγένοντο·351

Where in Proteus’ case the use of γίγνομαι is emphatic of the reality of his shape- changing, reflecting Proteus’ agency in transforming, and is explicitly active in meaning,352 here the transformation is rather more ambiguously presented, signalling the pirates’ lack of agency in the midst of Dionysus’ epiphany. It is less clear here, therefore, whether ἐγένοντο is active ‘they became’ or passive ‘they were transformed’.353 It is – at least linguistically – unclear whether the transformation is directly or intentionally caused by Dionysus, or whether it simply occurs as a result of proximity to the shapeshifter and their contact with the sea.354 In fact, this ambiguity lends itself to the development of both character and landscape in this Hymn, as regardless of direct cause, the pirates’ transformation forms part of the dionysiac setting created and is therefore a result of the god’s presence and manipulation of the landscape. Jaillard suggests that the presence of ‘dionysiac substances’, such as the ‘sweet wine’ (οἶνος…ἡδύποτος, 35-6), vines (ἄμπελος, 39) and dark ivy (μέλας…κισσός, 40), signal the god’s control over this environment, which results in the ‘dionysiac transformation’ of the ship.355 These aspects of the transformed landscape of the ship are similarly represented on the ‘Dionysus Cup’ of Exekias, on which Dionysus is depicted aboard a ship from which vines grow, surrounded by dolphins (figure 1). Two smaller dolphins appear on the hull of the ship, perhaps indicating the move from ship to sea. Here, these marvels

351 h.Bacch. 51-53. 352 Smyth §356c; see chapter 1.1. 353 Smyth §1754: γίγνομαι can be used as the passive of ποιεῖσθαι (cf. §1722). 354 This in itself is another factor linking Dionysus’ episode to water-based shapeshifters, and rather more emphatic than the sea/ship location. 355 Jaillard (2011) 147-8.

88 are clearly portrayed as Dionysus’ display of power, but the ambiguity of the scene is retained through the absence of explicit context, as the narrative is only hinted at through depiction of its major elements essential to the myth’s core (there is, for instance, no indication of Dionysus’ youthful appearance, self-transformations, the attempted binding, or the helmsman).356 The manifestation of Dionysus’ power is a sign that a supernatural landscape is being depicted here – the ship is changed by Dionysus’ presence.

Moreover, in the Hymn, in addition to the sudden growth of vines and ivy, Dionysus makes (ἐποίησεν) a bear appear on the ship.357 This is unambiguously the god’s action and contributes to the wildness of the situation in which the transformations occur. This also signals a difference between the various animal transformations which take place as unlike the bear, the dolphins are not created; the use of ἐγένοντο means that the pirates, not Dionysus, are the subject of the verb of transformation, allowing us to read this episode against those of other shapeshifters. The ambiguity of their transformation (since it is certainly related to the dionysiac environment on the ship but of unclear origin) links the sailors to the vines and ivy, which similarly appear (the vine stretches out along the mast with no clear sense of origin: ἐξετανύσθη, 38). In the case of the Hymn to Dionysus, therefore, the pirates’ transformation into dolphins acts as the final aspect cementing the instability of the dionysiac landscape on the ship initiated when the pirates unwittingly capture the god.

Dionysus, as is well established in the Bacchae, comes with an atmosphere of chaos: he disrupts nature and societal order,358 breaks down boundaries of nature and identity,359 and induces rational characters to commit irrational, dangerous acts, leading eventually to the overthrow of Pentheus’ reign and

356 Beaulieu (2016b) 245 argues that ‘nothing on the cup undisputedly represents the Tyrrhenian pirates’, and though she allows for the possibility of allusion to this narrative, she suggests that it may simply show sympotic imagery, with the dolphins representing Dionysus’ power, cf. Slater (1976) 165. 357 h.Bacch. 45-6 358 E.g. E. Ba. 704-11, in which wine, among other substances, flows from the earth. See Dodds (1960) 163, Seaford (1996) ad 142-3 on Dionysus’ connection to these substances and their role in libations. 359 As Segal (1986) 34 writes, ‘the hierarchical separation of god, man, and beast’ break down under the god’s influence; cf. Mills (2016) 134-5. Seaford (1996) 34 notes that these are the very boundaries which Pentheus stresses.

89 previous norms.360 In the Bacchae, the irrationality and chaos stem from the actions of characters under the god’s control,361 whether this is an instance of foreshadowing, as with Pentheus’ dressing scene, or the fatal culmination of the play, Agave’s inability to recognise Pentheus. In the Hymn, on the other hand, the pirates’ mistake is not due to madness or blindness inflicted by Dionysus (other than that resulting from his mortal disguise),362 but due to their own mortal fallibility in falling into the god’s trap, for which Dionysus’ mortal disguise acts as the bait.363

In light of this, we may identify Dionysus’ chaotic effect in the strange occurrences on the ship as a parallel to his effect on the maenads, and on the entire royal family of Thebes, in the Bacchae.364 In both narratives, Dionysus initially appears in the guise of a mortal in an attempt to ‘test’ groups of humans,365 and his intoxicating effect366 is brought about as a result of – and against – those who fail to recognise him as a god. In the Hymn, this irrational atmosphere results in the transformation of the sailors. In the Bacchae there is no actualised transformation during the play’s action, yet Agave becomes a maenad and Pentheus’ dressing sequence may be viewed as a quasi-transformation, as may his appearance – in the eyes of Agave and the other women – as a lion cub.367 In fact, in the Bacchae even

360 As Platt (2011) 65 and n.119 notes, sudden divine revelation (for instance that of Demeter or Aphrodite in their respective Hymns) often threatens to 'destabilize the reassuring solidity of the human domestic structures that frame the encounter', reflected in the Bacchae in the destruction of the palace at 585-603, cf. Wyles (2016) 63. 361 Dionysus’ ability to affect others’ sanity is well established in the tragedy through his continual presence on stage and involvement with events of the play; on this, see Mills (2016) 139-40. As Dodds (1960) xiii notes, this is not necessarily related to drunkenness. 362 Of course, Pentheus’ inability to see the truth is not only a result of Dionysus’ manipulation, but his own fallibility, see Gregory (1985) 27-8. 363 Despite his mortal disguise, as Steiner (2001) 169 and n.136 notes, Dionysus’ divinity is betrayed by his ‘telltale smile’ while manifesting his miracles aboard the ship, cf. Morwood (2016) 93. This failing ties into what Steiner (2001) 81 n.5 terms the ‘fundamental paradox’ of interactions with the divine, as mortals may be punished for failing to recognise deities through their disguises, despite their inability to look directly at undisguised gods, cf. Petridou (2016) 27 and chapter 1.1. 364 On the ship, the sea landscape is mixed with aspects of land in the form of the vines and bear. 365 This mortal appearance must therefore be distinguished from the mediating forms taken on by gods in the Iliad or by Athene in the Odyssey, though it is similarly a change of appearance: μορφὴν … βροτησίαν at E. Ba. 4-5; νεηνίῃ ἀνδρὶ ἐοικώς at h.Bacch. 2-4. 366 In Bacchae, the intoxicating effect is apparent rather than actual; in the Hymn it presents in the sudden growth of the vines. 367 Segal (1982) 235: ‘When Pentheus is totally drawn into his likeness to a human maenad, he actually becomes the beast of the maenadic sparagmos, the beast that he not merely resembles but “is”’, cf. Segal (1986) 38. Hints at Dionysus’ animal forms, furthermore, appear at several key moments of the tragedy, e.g. at E. Ba. 920-2, 1017-19: see Segal (1982) 10-11, 32, cf. Dodds (1960), Seaford (1996).

90 those who recognise Dionysus’ divinity and take part in his worship are somewhat changed by contact with the god,368 as Cadmus and Tiresias experience transformation, psychologically if not physically:

[Κ.] ἐπιλελήσμεθ᾽ ἡδέως γέροντες ὄντες.

[Τ.] ταὔτ᾽ ἐμοὶ πάσχεις ἄρα· κἀγὼ γὰρ ἡβῶ κἀπιχειρήσω χοροῖς.369

Cadmus, of course, will additionally undergo a punitive physical metamorphosis after the tragedy’s close, as Dionysus declares that he will become a snake, along with Harmonia: δράκων γενήσῃ μεταβαλών, δάμαρ τε σὴ / ἐκθηριωθεῖσ᾽ ὄφεος ἀλλάξει τύπον.370

Instability and fluid shape-changing go hand in hand, however; depictions of instability of landscape are not limited to Dionysus’ environment, but also appear in artistic renditions of Thetis’ transformations, which present a valuable point of comparison. Typically, as in figure 2, a black-figure amphora depicting Peleus struggling with Thetis, the goddess is in human form, and even of human stature. Despite this, her transformation, and particularly the threat of multiple forms, is present in the depiction of the animals attacking Peleus, which allow us to read this episode against Pindar’s depiction of the myth and, further, against Proteus’ in the Odyssey.371 Since the goddess is not typically a hybrid, she must be recognisably anthropomorphic for the depiction to be effective; as Aston notes, ‘there is a clear unwillingness to compromise the humanity of her anatomy in any profound way.’372 As a result, she is often shown to possess many different forms at once. The supernatural element of the story depicted in figure 2 is further emphasised by the

368 See Steiner (2001) 171. 369 E. Ba. 188-90. 370 E. Ba. 1330-1; Seaford (1996) ad loc. notes the apparent incongruity of this transformation with the rest of Dionysus’ prediction for Cadmus (1332-9), cf. Dodds (1960) ad loc. The prophesied transformation does however fit with Dionysus’ effect on the Theban royal household during the play (as discussed above), particularly since as Roisman (2016) 128-9 discusses, Cadmus’ acceptance of Dionysus is calculated. Cf. Wyles (2016) 65. On the fragmentary nature of Dionysus’ speech, see e.g. Sommerstein (2016) 37-9, Seaford (1996) ad 1329-30, Dodds (1960) ad 1329. 371 This links artistic depictions of Thetis to those of her father, Nereus: Gantz (1993) 405. The lion relates explicitly to Thetis’ attempt to escape marriage to Peleus in Nemean 4, while the panther in conjunction with the lion recalls Proteus’ transformation. Both, additionally, are emphatic reminders of the danger to Peleus. See Aston (2011) 62. 372 Aston (2011) 62.

91 presence of two Sirens – creatures which may, from their appearance in the Odyssey, lead the viewer to think of the sea/shore divide as the location for this struggle.373 Similarly, although Thetis is depicted in human form in figure 3, the presence of the lion-fish hybrid attacking Peleus not only reminds us of the goddess’ marine nature but additionally of her hybridity. In figure 4, however, the sea location is made explicit by the presence of the dolphin, which emphasises Thetis’ origins as a water-goddess.374 The snake, perhaps unexpected in Thetis’ transformation, may simply represent the dangerous, monstrous nature of this episode, or – like the panther in figure 2 – may bring to mind Proteus’ transformations in the Odyssey. Unlike those in figures 2 and 3, however, the animals of figure 4 are not clearly positioned in relation to Peleus and Thetis’ struggle, but rather seem to occupy a more ambiguous space. Hurwit traces the presence of lizards signalling the Uncanny in Greek art,375 suggesting that the depictions of these creatures simultaneously within the image and external to it demand that ‘the space [in which they are placed] must be read both ways.’376 The animals of figure 4 seem to have a similar function, as read in such a way the dolphin renders the space at Thetis’ side simultaneously air and water. The snake appears to rest over the bobbin itself and thus outside the image, but by necessity of its placement and of the story it must be considered to interact with the image itself, thereby collapsing the boundary of the bobbin while simultaneously relying on it.

The style of depictions of Thetis’ transformation sequence, moreover, are not a result of limitations on artistic portrayal of shape-changing, but a feature used to express multiple transformations. Io, for instance, may simply be represented as a cow among figures such as Zeus, Argos and Hermes in order to depict the myth surrounding her transformation,377 while Zeus’ transformation into a bull is indicated in artistic representations of the Europa myth simply by the appearance of the animal.378 The transformation of Odysseus’ men into pigs, on the other hand, is often represented by depiction of the men with human bodies and animal

373 Owing to their proximity to nearby ships, Od. 12.181-2. 374 Similarly to Proteus’ transformation occurring on the sea-shore and Dionysus’ at sea in literary representations. 375 Hurwit (2006). 376 Hurwit (2006) 122. 377 LIMC s.v. “Io” I 2, 4, 7, 11-13 but cf. 33 in which Io is depicted in hybrid form. 378 LIMC s.v. “Europe” I 2, 22-25.

92 heads.379 This may therefore be understood as depicting the process of transformation, since the men are still able to walk like humans (but in fact this varies the presentation in the Odyssey, wherein their minds are the only part unaffected). Here it is still possible to see a distinction compared with the depictions of Thetis above, since the artist need only portray one transformation. Through this comparison it seems that in the portrayals of Thetis’ transformation sequence, the effect of the multiple creatures is to depict, as far as possible with a static medium such as artwork, the changeability inherent in the episode and the ongoing transformation as a process, rather than a limited event. This leads us back to the landscape of changeability shown in the Homeric Hymn to Dionysus, where multiple events and occurrences are used to comparable effect. Although not constrained by the medium in the same way as the artistic depictions discussed above, the literary depiction makes use of multiple additional features to create the desired impression: the presence of the bear, the growing vines, and the sailors’ transformations are essential to the Hymn’s depiction of flux.

Despite the ambiguity of intention and of specific cause relating to the pirates’ transformation in Dionysus’ Hymn, this metamorphosis is clearly related to and concludes the shapeshifting episode; the pirates are frightened into jumping into the sea by Dionysus’ shapeshifting epiphany and he thus takes his revenge.380 Forbes Irving maintains a distinction between Dionysus and Thetis or Proteus, since his transformation here brings about victory, rather than defeat.381 However, if we understand that an unsuccessful escape attempt is indeed an essential marker of a shapeshifting episode, following Forbes Irving’s argument, we can read the pirates’ transformation as providing this function. The sailors’ act of jumping into the sea is explicitly figured as an escape attempt (ἐξαλύοντες, 51). That there is no indication that the pirates know about the possibility of their transformation on jumping into the sea (nor would I suggest that we should entertain any such idea) should not trouble us – nor should their clear lack of any transformative powers of their own; rather, as discussed, they are horrified by the spectacle of Dionysus’

379 LIMC s.v. “Kirke” 5, 8, 9, 14-19. 380 Platt (2011) 68 describes Dionysus’ epiphany here as a ‘semiotic crisis’, to which ‘[t]he scarcely adequate response … is for Dionysus' mortal witnesses to surrender their own fixity of form’. Cf. Segal (1982) 31. On the significance of binding in Greek myths relating to the gods see chapter 2.2. 381 Forbes Irving (1990) 191.

93 shape-changing. This fear supports the function of their act as an (unsuccessful) attempt to escape: the prospect of drowning with any potential for escape is clearly preferable to being attacked by a lion or bear.

Having established the leap into the sea as a form of attempted escape, the next crucial aspect to be determined for its relevance to the transformation sequence is its success or failure. The pirates do not drown, as we might expect,382 nor are they eaten or mauled by the lion or bear – in short, they are not punished as those who offend the gods are elsewhere.383 However, if their action is understood as an attempt to escape to safety it is certainly unsuccessful, as ancient attitudes to the sea frequently emphasise the danger of this hostile environment, and leaping into the sea may be tantamount to death.384 In fact, the men may only be saved from drowning by their transformation – yet this in itself renders their attempt unsuccessful, since the changeable landscape is inherently tied to the danger presented by Dionysus’ animal forms, and, rather than escaping this flux, the pirates find themselves in the sea, a threatening environment and the one most conducive to shapeshifting. Nor do they escape the danger presented by divine epiphany, since Dionysus’ revelation is manifested in his shapeshifting which generates the atmosphere of changeability in which their transformations take place.385 As Beaulieu suggests, we may even consider the pirates’ transformation as their full immersion into dionysiac worship as symposiasts.386 However, it is only the helmsman to whom Dionysus announces his name; if the pirates are brought into Dionysus’ worship they certainly do not do so as willing participants.

Furthermore, the transformation into dolphins represents a loss of humanity: not only do these pirates abandon their ship and therefore lose their livelihood, but they are deprived of their identities. As discussed at the beginning of this chapter, transformation into an animal is commonly depicted as a negative occurrence and may be figured as a form of punishment. Unlike Dionysus, whose transformative nature surpasses his physical limits, and who demonstrates clear

382 Such as Odysseus’ companions at Od. 12.418-19, cf. X. An. 5.7.25, where anyone who could not swim drowned (ἐπίγνετο). This is discussed further in chapter 2.2.i.c. 383 E.g. Prometheus: Hes. Th. 521-5; A. Pr. 101-13. 384 See chapter 2.2. 385 Platt (2011) 68: ‘Confronted with the force and caprice of divine revelation, human eidos is what turns out to be malleable and impermanent.’ 386 Beaulieu (2016b) 244.

94 and dangerous control over his form, the pirates’ transformation is one which emphasises mortal helplessness in the face of divine power. Moreover, in direct juxtaposition to the pirates’ fate, Dionysus takes pity on the captain, the only crewmember to recognise (albeit imperfectly) Dionysus’ divine status,387 and holds him back – presumably – from making the same disastrous escape attempt: κυβερνήτην δ᾽ ἐλεήσας / ἔσχεθε.388

The presence of dolphins specifically, moreover, aligns Dionysus’ Hymn with the Hymn to Apollo, which features several close parallels, and invites further comparison with an episode detailed in Book 1 of Herodotus’ Histories. The resemblances between the two Hymns in particular have been widely noted and discussed by commentators,389 but it is worthwhile to focus briefly on these similarities in our discussion of dolphins and transferred metamorphosis. In the Hymn to Apollo 399-403, the god approaches some sailors in the form of a huge dolphin (πέλωρ μέγα τε δεινόν τε, 401), and makes frightening events occur on the ship (τίνασσε δὲ νήια δοῦρα, 403), to which the sailors react with fear (δειμαίνοντες, 404). Apollo forces the ship to sail uninterrupted to Crisa, where he reveals himself in the form of an attractive youth and states that the sailors are to be his priests and that he is to be worshipped as Delphinios (495). I give a schematic representation of the main and, for my purpose, most significant resemblances.390

Dionysus Apollo

a. Disguised epiphany/god transformed a. Disguised epiphany/god transformed Appears as long-haired youth Becomes(?) dolphin (πέλωρ)

b. god taken onto ship b. god embarks onto ship Youth kidnapped and bound Dolphin leaps on, sailors attempt removal

387 Murnaghan (2010) 71, see García (2002) 17; Richardson (2010) 141; Platt (2011) 64 n.109. 388 h.Bacch. 53-54. 389 Richardson (2010) 141 terms the events of the Hymn to Dionysus a ‘parallel story’ to that of Apollo Delphinios, cf. Miller (1986) 93-4, García (2002) 17. 390 García (2002) has produced a useful framework of more generalised features, noting that these features can further be identified in recognition episodes found in other Hymns and in epic more widely – my intention here is not to replicate García’s useful model but to create a new method for identifying these structural features as they appear specifically in Apollo’s and Dionysus’ respective Hymns.

95 c. God takes control of ship c. God takes control of ship Makes(?) vines and wine appear and Apollo makes the timbers shake and

ii. Creation of bear (later) ii. Steers course for Crisa

*a. Disguised epiphany/god transformed Transforms into lion

d. Pirates react with fear d. Sailors react with fear

e. Transformation of mortals involved e. Change of identity of mortals involved Pirates → dolphins Sailors → priests

ii. Helmsman saved ii. Apollo appears as long-haired youth (*a) iii. Dionysus proclaims his identity iii. Worship of Apollo Delphinios

The sequences are not exact replicas but the parallels between the two are striking and invite comparison. Both narratives involve the changed appearance of a god (a), which is the method for getting onto a ship (b); both feature the appearance of a monstrous creature; each god takes control of the ship (c), leading to fulfilment of their plans and generating fear in the mortals surrounding them (d), and in both instances the mortals involved undergo a change in identity from humans to animals and from sailors to priests respectively (e). A variant on several of these motifs can be identified in the Arion tale in Herodotus.391 Arion, wishing to make a journey, (b) embarks on a ship, on which he is mistreated and robbed by the crew, and, (d) faced with the options of certain death on the ship (αὐτὸν διαχρᾶσθαι) or walking the plank (ἐκπηδᾶν ἐς τὴν θάλασσαν), chooses (e) to throw himself into the sea. Before doing so, Arion – a bard – performs a song, and on falling into the sea he is rescued by the appearance of a dolphin (cf. a), which carries him back to Corinth. When the sailors appear and lie about their journey, (*a, e) Arion reveals himself (ἐπιφανῆναί σφι τὸν Ἀρίονα).

The recurrence of dolphins along with the motifs of hidden identity, mediation between life and death or between changes of identity, and, in the Homeric Hymns, those of transformation, lead to some striking structural similarities between these myths.392 The appearance of dolphins in the Hymn to

391 Hdt. 1.24.1-8. 392 Dolphins often appear in myths and folktale rescuing sailors (E.g. ST B473 ‘Helpful Dolphin’; B551.1 ‘Fish carries man across water’; B556 ‘Sea-beast allows voyager to land upon his back’)

96 Apollo can be explained by Apollo’s association with this animal, for instance in his cult title of Apollo Delphinios, for which the Hymn acts as an aetiological tale. Apollo’s association with the lyre and with music further links this to Arion’s tale;393 as a bard, Arion is sacred to Apollo and thus to be saved by a dolphin links Herodotus’ tale to the Hymn. This alone cannot explain the presence of dolphins in Dionysus’ transformation sequence, however, except perhaps as an inversion of the Apollonian myth, in line with the opposition between the two gods.394 We might, however, look to the narrative of these myths, and the presentation of Dionysus in the Bacchae as a ‘new’ deity, one who has not been universally accepted. Like Hermes in his Hymn, the Dionysus of the Bacchae must establish his position in the pantheon and the methods of his worship, as does Apollo in his Hymn. Although Dionysus’ Hymn does not involve attempts to establish himself as a god, we find a hint at this narrative in even the helmsman’s inability to identify Dionysus despite the presence of vines and the dionysiac character of the epiphany – Dionysus must identify himself at the hymn’s close (56-7). Thus, similarly to the Hymn to Hermes, the use of Apollonian features may serve to provide a model, this time in the form of structural parallels, against which to indicate the god’s place among the Olympians in the narrative.

This interpretation is further supported by comparison with the myth of Lycurgus’ attack on Dionysus in Book 6 of the Iliad, one of the god’s two appearances in the epic.395 There, the god is explicitly depicted as young and not yet fully in his role as a god,396 and, persecuted by a mortal, is forced to throw himself into the sea. The connection with a cliff or mountain and sea landscape is also supported by the first fragmentary Hymn to Dionysus, where Mount Nysa is explicitly connected with the god’s birth397 and is described as having high cliffs overlooking the sea:

or returning the bodies of drowned men to shore: see Beaulieu (2016b) 237-9. Hesiod’s body, for example, is said to have been returned to shore by dolphins at Certamen 14, allowing for his burial. 393 See, e.g., h.Merc. 490ff. 394 Miller (1986) 93-4. 395 Il. 6.130-40. 396 Gantz (1993) 113 calls Dionysus’ fear of a mortal ‘remarkable’. 397 The phrase used, σὲ δ᾿ ἔτικτε πατὴρ ἀνδρῶν τε θεῶν τε, recalls the unusual circumstances, see Gantz (1993) 112 and West (2001).

97 ἔστι δέ τις Νύση ὕπατον ὄρος […] ἀλλά οἱ ἠλίβα]τ̣ ο̣ ς̣ πέτρη περιδέδρομε πάντηι ὑψηλή398

The situation in the seventh Hymn, with Dionysus positioned on the cliff but in full control of his powers, therefore recalls and simultaneously inverts Dionysus’ persecution at Lycurgus’ hands.

However, a resemblance to Apollo is made explicit in the hymn’s opening lines, as the helmsman states that their intended kidnapping victim must be Zeus, Apollo or Poseidon.399 Behind this explicit mention of the god lies, perhaps, the Hymn to Apollo: rather than in the form of a dolphin, the helmsman suspects that they may have been visited by Apollo in the form of a youth – one which is very similar, in fact, to Apollo’s anthropomorphic appearance at the end of his hymn.400 The inversion is thus complete and the two Hymns, and, by extension, the gods they describe, are strongly associated – the order inherent in Apollonian myth (due in part to the move from sea to land) against the chaotic presence of Dionysus and its outcome.

ii. Proteus

The second instance of transferred metamorphosis to be discussed here – the quasi-transformation401 of Menelaus and his men into seals in Odyssey 4 – is rather less secure and certainly less dangerous for those undergoing the change. This event lies somewhere on the spectrum between transformation and disguise, as do other similar events in the Odyssey such as the many disguises worn by Odysseus. For the purposes of this discussion I consider this event in the same vein as the events of Dionysus’ Homeric Hymn for several reasons: it similarly pertains directly

398 h.Hom. 1.14-16. As West (2001) 2 notes, this mountain is characterised as a locus amoenus, cut off from human contact, but while we should not assume that this is the same landscape in which Dionysus’ attack on the pirates occurs, the resemblance is striking. 399 h.Bacch. 19. 400 Richardson (2010) 143 notes that while taking the appearance of a youth is common to several gods including Hermes and Athene, the long hair (χαίτῃς εἰλυμένος εὐρέας ὤμους, 450) is ‘especially characteristic of Dionysus and Apollo ἀκερσεκόμης’, as the god is described at 134 (Φοῖβος ἀκερσεκόμης). This, then, is another connection between the two gods. See also Platt (2011) 69. 401 So termed by Baumbach (2013) 154, who describes Menelaus’ subsequent re-emergence as a hero as a second transformation.

98 to the capture of a shapeshifting being; it occurs in the same location as the shapeshifting episode; the event is influenced by the intervention of a divine being; and finally, it takes place, similarly to the pirates’ transformation in the Hymn, in the natural habitat of the creature whose form is assumed.

In order to capture Proteus and initiate the shapeshifting sequence, Menelaus must first receive aid from Eidothea, which allows him to infiltrate Proteus’ domain and surprise the god. Eidothea conceals the mortals with seal skins in order to blend in with the rest of Proteus’ flock:

ἡμεῖς δὲ μάλα σχεδὸν ἤλθομεν αὐτῆς· ἑξείης δ᾽ εὔνησε, βάλεν δ᾽ ἐπὶ δέρμα ἑκάστῳ. ἔνθα κεν αἰνότατος λόχος ἔπλετο· τεῖρε γὰρ αἰνῶς φωκάων ἁλιοτρεφέων ὀλοώτατος ὀδμή· τίς γάρ κ᾽ εἰναλίῳ παρὰ κήτεϊ κοιμηθείη· ἀλλ᾽ αὐτὴ ἐσάωσε καὶ ἐφράσατο μέγ᾽ ὄνειαρ· ἀμβροσίην ὑπὸ ῥῖνα ἑκάστῳ θῆκε φέρουσα ἡδὺ μάλα πνείουσαν, ὄλεσσε δὲ κήτεος ὀδμήν.402

This episode first appears as a disguise with strong structural resemblances to Odysseus’ escape from Polyphemus in Book 9 and foreshadows this event, linking the nostoi of Menelaus and Odysseus.403 There is an inversion between the two episodes, however, since Menelaus is attempting to approach the owner of the seals, while Odysseus’ motive is to escape, and the seals are dead and therefore stationary, while Odysseus’ escape depends on the ram’s movement.

The episodes are further distinguished by the help (μέγ᾽ ὄνειαρ) Menelaus receives from Eidothea, which solidifies the function of this episode as an instance of ‘transferred metamorphosis’. The goddess presents the men with ambrosia, a food strongly associated with the divine,404 which has the apparently magical function here not only of making the ὀλοώτατος ὀδμή of the dead seals bearable,405 but also making them appear both to Proteus and to the mortals to be living.

402 Od. 4.439-46. 403 This connection is further explored in chapter 3.1; the explicit links between Odysseus and Menelaus further suggest the possibility of viewing this disguise as a quasi-transformation, as Menelaus’ adventures in Book 4 act as a microcosm of Odysseus’ nostos and his folktale adventures, during which the hero is regularly transformed/disguised by Athene. Louden (2011) 121 further notes that the seals’ amphibious nature parallels the landscape of Odysseus’ journey to Ithaca. 404 It is frequently eaten or used by gods, e.g. Il. 14.170-1; Od. 5.93, 12.62-3; h.Cer. 49-50. See Clay (1982) 114-16. 405 Specifically by destroying it: ὄλεσσε δὲ κήτεος ὀδμήν.

99 Indeed, Eidothea’s trick relies on this as in order for Proteus to be ambushed while sleeping he must first be unable to distinguish between the living seals of his flock and the skins covering Menelaus and his men. Furthermore, the presentation of ambrosia to a mortal is elsewhere clearly associated with alteration of state. In the Iliad, Thetis pours nectar and ambrosia over Patroclus’ corpse in order to prevent decay; Gaia and the Seasons make Aristaeus immortal by feeding him nectar and ambrosia in Pindar’s Pythian 9; and this is paralleled in Demeter’s attempt to immortalise Demophoon in her Homeric Hymn.406 Similarly, Pindar’s Olympian 1 has Tantalus steal nectar and ambrosia from the gods in order to give them to his συμπόται.407 The gods used these substances, we are told, to make Tantalus immortal (ἄφθιτον). Clay suggests that the original significance of ambrosia (and nectar) was in its role in allowing the gods to avoid ‘the natural cycle of growth and decay’ rather than presenting them with immortality,408 yet the use of this on mortals – who are unavoidably part of this life cycle – must be considered at least potentially transformative.409 The parallel with Patroclus’ corpse is particularly significant here. Thetis does not bring Patroclus back to life but temporarily removes him from the natural mortal lifecycle. Eidothea’s use of ambrosia on the sealskin disguises has the effect of making them appear to be living animals (thus apparently surpassing Thetis’ action), but the substance is applied not to the sealskins but rather directly to the noses of Menelaus and his men (ὑπὸ ῥῖνα ἑκάστῳ, Od. 4.445), mirroring Thetis’ treatment of Patroclus (κατὰ ῥινῶν, Il. 19.39) and thus they must also be recipients of its effects. This disguise has therefore gone beyond simply wearing the skins,410 and initiates the landscape of flux which will be fulfilled by Proteus’ transformations.

406 Il. 19.38-9 (cf. the treatment of Hector’s corpse with ambrosial oil at 23.184-7), Pi. P. 9.63, h.Cer. 235-8. 407 Pi. O. 1.59-66. 408 Clay (1982) 115-16. 409 We might also compare instances of commensality with the gods, for instance the Ethiopians’ with Poseidon at Od. 1.22-6 (ἐτέρπετο δαιτὶ παρήμενος), or the Phaeacians’ with the Olympian gods at 7.201-6 (δαίνυνταί τε παρ᾽ ἄμμι καθήμενοι). In both cases commensality indicates the close relationship of the mortals to the gods and their resultant distance from mankind: the Ethiopians are geographically distanced as the ἔσχατοι ἀνδρῶν, while the Phaeacians are closely related to the gods (σφισιν ἐγγύθεν). An opposite scenario presents itself in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 130-3, as Hermes is tempted to eat a portion of the meat he has laid out for sacrifice, an act which would go against his divine nature (ἀθάνατόν περ ἐόντα). 410 Louden (2011) 116 argues that the resemblance of seals to humans is implicitly in the Odyssey 4 episode, but this appears not to take account of the need for the seal-skin disguises.

100 Here we may identify another strong resemblance in the Hymn to Dionysus, as the structure is again strikingly similar: 1) a transformed/disguised figure/group (Dionysus, Menelaus) waits on the sea/shore boundary (the cliff, the beach) for their unwitting victim(s) (the pirates, Proteus); 2) a temporary binding occurs (of Dionysus, of Proteus); and 3) the victim is provoked to transform (un)knowingly (the pirates, Proteus).411 The pirates’ transformation into dolphins parallel those of Menelaus and his men into seals; both animals are connected to the marine location in which the encounters take place. In the Hymn, however, the issues of knowledge and lack of recognition carry the result that while Menelaus’ ‘transformation’ is a temporary disguise, from which he can emerge as a conquering hero, the pirates cannot regain their human forms.

iii. Conclusion

Finally, exploring the occurrences surrounding the shapeshifting process itself allows us to identify further connections between Dionysus – often distinguished from water-based shapeshifters – and Proteus. As I have shown, shapeshifting episodes involve a state of flux which presents itself in ambiguity beyond the changing appearance of the shapeshifters themselves. The transformation of pirates into dolphins in the Homeric Hymn to Dionysus appears to be part of a larger resemblance to Proteus’ episode in Book 4 of the Odyssey which serves to highlight the pirates’ ignorance and loss of identity (in comparison to Menelaus’ triumph), while also presenting an intertextual relationship with the events of the Hymn to Apollo. Read against these other myths in terms of the structural resemblances identified, the excesses depicted in Dionysus’ transformation of the pirates and the very landscape around him appear to reflect Bacchic practices and his status as a ‘newer’, apparently less recognisable god, somewhat marginalised in the Greek pantheon. Moreover, this literary phenomenon appears comparable to depictions of shape-changing found in Greek art which is particularly prominent in depictions of Thetis wrestling with Peleus, in which the shapeshifter’s sequence of transformations is depicted by means of multiple forms or bodies. The correlation between visual and literary representations of these myths serves to highlight the

411 A similar effect is true of the Hymn to Apollo, although the motif of binding is notably absent.

101 transformative power of these figures, who effect change not only in their own bodies but also their environment and also, on occasion, on the mortals around them.

102 Chapter 2: Characterisation and Narrative Role

In the second chapter of this thesis, I turn now to look more broadly at aspects of the overall presentation and characterisation of shapeshifters, the relationship of these episodes to myth, and their place within the wider Greek (and non-Greek) tradition. As discussed in the previous section, it is possible to identify a series of shared characteristics, themes, and motifs of shapeshifting episodes which allows us to view these episodes as variants on a story-type. The purpose of this section is to delve further into the characterisation and the narrative roles and functions of these characters, and how their literary depiction is impacted by their shapeshifting; as I shall demonstrate, these comparative readings collectively lead to a more nuanced appreciation of the variance within Greek shapeshifter myths, as affinities emerge more strongly between individual shapeshifters, for instance between Metis and Nemesis, and Metis and Periclymenus, and between subgroups of the family of shapeshifters. These readings – against folktale motifs, the prominence of water, the Trickster archetype, in light of the inherent weaknesses of shapeshifting, and against Greek monsters – allow for close examination of the constituent parts of the shapeshifting episode type identified in chapter 1 and the interaction of these elements with the narratives in which it occurs.

First, I present a comparative survey of the folktale motifs and story-types which appear connected to shapeshifting myths, using Thompson’s motif-index and the Aarne-Thompson classification of story-types. I turn my attention next to some further aspects of the literary characterisation of our shapeshifters: their relationship and/or proximity to water; their depiction as Trickster figures and the impact of the focus on hidden knowledge; and the inherent weaknesses associated with shapeshifting. Finally, I consider the parallels in Greek myth and literature between shapeshifters and monsters, in order to shed light on their narrative roles as figures to be pursued and adversaries of a heroic figure.

103 2.1 Shapeshifters and international (folk)tales

As we have seen, shapeshifter myths regularly contain recurring elements, although the extent to which each is present varies: the hero’s quest or other need, which leads him to the shapeshifter; the presence of a water-deity who can change at will into various forms; the struggle between mortal and deity; aid from another supernatural being; the eventual gain of some immortal wisdom or marriage. The similarities and repeated themes allow us, as I have established, to view them as members – with more or less of a family resemblance – of a specific set of figures. These motifs also allow us to recognise some familiar archetypal figures within each tale’s composition: the hero, the wizard or witch, the helper(-maiden).412 By viewing the myths or stories of shapeshifters in such a way, it becomes apparent that shapeshifting myths share themes and elements with European folktales, as is true of many Greek myths.413 The relationship of the Odyssey to folktale motifs and types has been widely explored: these elements can be found particularly in Odysseus’ adventures in Books 9-12,414 particularly those which concern magical or fantastic elements, but folktale motifs also underlie other parts of the narrative and are intricately bound up with the overall plot – for instance, AT 974 The Homecoming Husband.415 Hansen observes a connection between Menelaus’ encounter with Proteus (particularly his questioning of the deity) and a Scandinavian story of a man who catches and questions a mermaid (ML 4060).416 This is just one example of the rich web of resemblances to be identified between shapeshifter myths and international tales, however; it is the purpose of this chapter to provide a focused discussion on this relationship by positing some possible analogues and exploring the parallels which may be found between these

412 These further correspond to several of the functions outlined by Propp (1968), who notes in his study of Russian folk- or fairy-tales, 20, that ‘the characters of a tale, however varied they may be, often perform the same actions.’ In Proteus’ episode, both Eidothea and Proteus perform the role of the ‘donor’; Eidothea in providing magical aid and questioning the hero (D2), Proteus in fighting with him and providing knowledge (D9). While I make greater use of the Aarne-Thompson and Stith Thompson indices which catalogue respectively story-types and motif-types found in international folktale, Propp’s functions are nonetheless useful for this study and indeed strengthen the possibilities for observing parallels across mythological systems. 413 As catalogued extensively by Hansen (2002). 414 See e.g. Hansen (2002) 289-301, Hansen (1997) 446-451, Reinhardt (1997). 415 See Hansen (2002) 201-211. 416 Hansen (1997) 453-4. For an example of this story see Kvideland and Sehmsdorf (1988) 261-2.

104 Greek myths and European folktale, and with myths of other cultures. In this section, therefore, I shall look outside the Greek (and Graeco-Roman) tradition, in order to identify and discuss some aspects of shapeshifter myths which transcend cultural boundaries and illustrate the wide appeal of such figures. This comparative reading further brings to light some latent associations in the Greek shapeshifters, in particular Nemesis and Metis, whose episodes both benefit from comparison with ST D716 Transformation combat. This chapter similarly allows for the parallels in Thetis’ and Mestra’s transformations to become apparent: comparison with the Swan Maiden legend points to the inevitability of Thetis’ and Mestra’s rejection of their husbands and return to shapeshifting, thus building on my analysis in chapter 1.1.

The term given in Hansen’s title, ‘international tales’, provides us with a useful starting point, as I shall consider not only ‘folktales’ as we might understand them as collected by the Brothers Grimm.417 Rather, I am interested here in tracing some of the parallels we can usefully draw between the shapeshifters I have identified and characters, themes or motifs in a range of other narrative systems, which certainly includes European folktale, as I shall explore below, but also tales from Egypt, Scandinavia, North America and India. The intention of this broad approach is not to provide an exhaustive catalogue of all possible folkloric or mythic comparanda for the Greek shapeshifter myths from stories of other systems (such a task is beyond the scope of this chapter) but rather to illustrate a representative sample of such correspondences. The distinction between categories of tale types such as myth, legend, saga and folktale is not necessarily a clear-cut one;418 I shall not focus here on the categorisation or genre of the tales I shall discuss, but rather on the content and structure of the stories419 themselves in order to bring together a range of instances in which we may find resemblances to Greek shapeshifters.420 Similarly, I am not concerned with suggesting a

417 In this chapter I refer to the story-types identified by Aarne-Thompson; the motifs gathered by Thompson, and to the Märchen collected by the Brothers Grimm (as Kinder- und Häusmarchen, 1812-15). 418 Cf. Hansen (2002) 9, Dowden (1992) 5-7. 419 Throughout this chapter I employ a variety of terms: I use ‘myth’ to refer to the Greek tales and those of other cultural-religious systems; ‘folktale’ to refer to those European tales collected by the Brothers Grimm, and ‘tale’, ‘international tale’ or ‘story’ interchangeably to refer to the narratives discussed more generally. 420 The issue of ‘genre variance’ as discussed by Hansen (1997) 442-6, cf. Hansen (1992) 8, is of course an important consideration in approaching folktale. In the present study, however, I am concerned primarily with content rather than form.

105 chronological relationship, or particularly with suggesting influence in either direction (myth → international tale / international tale → myth),421 and certainly not with proposing a hierarchy. Instead, I wish simply to consider how at their core the myths considered in this thesis might resemble tales of other systems, and what comparison with the significance and makeup of shapeshifters in different cultural imaginations might inform us about the Greek shapeshifters and their mythic role. In order to do so, I present here a broad general survey of some parallels and resemblances, for which I look to themes, structures, motifs and character-types, rather than closely at any given text. A number of motifs, especially ST D630.4 Deity has power of self-transformation, D612 Protean sale: man sells youth in successive transformations, and D615 Transformation combat, suggest the wealth of material appearing cross-culturally which may be related to the Greek shapeshifters. This chapter will thus explore the appearance of these motifs in other texts and systems to develop a more detailed understanding of the models which parallel the depiction of shapeshifters in Greek poetry, and their interactions with mortals. In particular, this comparative study will bring to light some latent connections between the Greek shapeshifters, for instance between Nemesis and Metis, two figures who appear somewhat as outliers in the Greek family of shapeshifters and thus invite consideration alongside material outside the corpora of Greek shapeshifters and even Greek myth. It will also provide us with a means by which to approach particular elements of the Greek episodes, such as the theme of marriage, and to reconsider the connections within texts, for example that between Proteus and Polyphemus in the Odyssey.

The relationship between folktale and myth is a complex one: in certain cases it is entirely possible to identify shared story-types, for instance that of the ogre blinded by the clever man, AT 1137,422 which is found in Odysseus’ successful defeat of Polyphemus in Odyssey 9.423 Other folktales, however, might lend motifs or elements despite a changed context. Hansen, for instance, identifies a mythic analogue of ST K1341.1 Entrance into woman’s room in golden ram in the story of the Trojan horse, and further in the Egyptian legend of the capture of the city of

421 On this, however, I am inclined to agree with Hansen’s (2002) 15-16 conclusion that it is more likely for the generic tale (i.e. the folktale) to influence a more specific variant (as we find in myths/legends) than the other way around. 422 This is linked in Polyphemus’ case to AT 1135 Eye remedy. 423 See Hansen (2002) 289-301.

106 Joppa.424 However, each of these tales features the animal-figure ‘gift’ as a means of capturing a city, and are thus distinguished from the folktale motif as identified by Thompson. As such, we might alternatively find an echo of this motif in the myth of Zeus’ rape of Danae, who, like the girl in the folktale, is locked in her room by her father, and whose confinement is breached by something golden – in the myth, Zeus in his transformation into golden rain.425 For the purposes of this chapter, I focus primarily on the first four of Hansen’s six categories of possible correspondences between ancient and modern stories,426 1. Overall, 2. Partial, 3. Intermittent, and 4. Structural. Here, therefore, I look not only for direct analogues of story-types or motifs, but also for partial or indirect parallels with folktale.

i. Protean resemblances

I begin with two culturally and temporally distinct stories which display resemblances to the Greek shapeshifter myths – particularly with Proteus’ – on the levels both of structure and content, albeit to varying degrees. The first of these is the Old Testament myth at Genesis 32:22-32, as observed by Louden.427 In this episode, Jacob wrestles with a man (ἐπάλαιεν ἄνθρωπος μετ’ αὐτοῦ, 32:25) who seems to instigate the physical contest, and who is revealed to be God in disguise. The shapeshifting motif itself is absent, but the contest takes place next to a river, while Jacob is on a journey, and allows for contact between a mortal and a deity. Moreover, while Jacob does not seek his opponent’s aid with his journey (as Menelaus does), since he has already managed to send his family across the river, the contest does not end, Louden notes, until Jacob forces his opponent to engage a ‘special form of discourse with him’, and emphasis is placed on the duration of their struggle.428 Even though the central element of the shapeshifter myth is absent here, the appearance of other important elements allows for a comparative approach to these two myths.

424 Hansen (2002) 169-176. 425 See, e.g., Pi. P. 12.18-19, S. Ant. 944-50. 426 Hansen (2002) 24. 427 Louden (2011) 116. 428 Louden (2011) 116.

107 The second parallel, from Egypt’s Middle Kingdom period, is The Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor, as identified by Sarah Morris.429 In this story, a sailor marooned alone on an island after the destruction of his ship and shipmates is approached by a supernatural being in the form of a giant snake (‘He was of thirty cubits; his beard was over two cubits long. His body was overlaid with gold, his eyebrows were of real lapis lazuli’). The snake-creature questions the sailor on his arrival at the island before instructing the man on his homeward journey and prophesying his safe return: ‘If you are brave and control your heart, you shall embrace your children, you shall kiss your wife, you shall see your home.’ As Morris observes, the phrasing and content of the creature’s prophecy evokes the Odyssey; indeed, the resemblances are many and striking, and most apply both to Menelaus’ and Odysseus’ nostoi. The sailor is shipwrecked on the island for an extended period of time (four months) and must consult a supernatural being who presents a threat (‘If you delay telling me who brought you to this island, I shall make you find yourself reduced to ashes, becoming like a thing unseen’) which is comparable to the danger posed by Proteus’ shapeshifting and Circe’s transformative magic. The creature’s questioning additionally parallels Eidothea’s address to Menelaus (Od. 4.471-2).430 As with the Biblical episode, the transformation motif is absent but there are sufficient parallels in the overall sequence of events to perceive a strong resemblance between these myths.

These examples, taken together, showcase the potential for comparison with motifs involving shapeshifters appearing in vastly different settings, contexts, genres and cultures. Central motifs may appear to a greater or lesser degree and evoke different dynamics. For instance, the act of holding on to the shapeshifter or god – an aggressive action in the Odyssey –occurs without metamorphosis but with an equivalent end result in both Genesis 32 (the discourse) and the Egyptian tale (the advice provided by a supernatural prophet). In these tales, the river/island setting is a further resemblance to Proteus’ shapeshifting, which forms part of the parallels to the narrative structure of Proteus’ myth. I now turn to individual motifs and themes which find echoes in international tales, including the motifs of

429 Morris (1997) 603. All English translations here are taken from Lichtheim (2006) 211-15. 430 Both therefore correspond to Propp’s function D2 The donor greets and interrogates the hero.

108 transformation and disguise, the ambivalence of water spirits, shapeshifting characters, the use of magic items, and the motif of the swan-maiden.

ii. Transformation motifs

The association of marine figures with danger and with fluid, possibly deceptive, appearance is clearly (and unsurprisingly) not limited to the Greek imagination but is a much wider phenomenon. Transformation and disguise are themes as common to folktale as to myth, as there is frequently a disconnect between appearance and reality: heroes and heroines often encounter beings who are more than they seem, for instance the archetypal old woman with magical knowledge (ST N825.3);431 or frogs who turn into men (AT 440 The Frog King or Iron Henry, cf. Grimm 1 ‘The Frog King or Iron Heinrich’). There is a wealth of motifs related to water spirits at ST F420, concerning their form or appearance (ST F420.1) which includes animals common to the Greek myths such as bulls432 (ST F420.1.3.4) or snakes (ST F420.1.3.9), and some which do not commonly appear in the Greek versions, such as an otter or a stork. There is a particular association in European folktale between water-spirits or creatures and malicious or at least ambivalent behaviour, with Mermaids becoming associated outside Homer with Sirens and perhaps with Scylla, leading to an association with drowning.433 This theme is the focus of Grimm 181 ‘The Nixie in the Pond’, in which a poor miller meets the eponymous nixie, who appears as a beautiful woman rising from the water and who promises to help him in exchange for whatever had just been born in his house, tricking the miller into unwittingly promising his own son to the creature. Later, when the son – an adult, by this point – approaches the pond and touches the water, the nixie embraces him and pulls him into the water. This episode closely resembles that of Hylas and the water-nymph at Argonautica 1.1221-39, where Hylas is similarly – in this instance fatally434 – embraced by the nymph and dragged into the water. In both tales, the

431 This motif is an element of story-type AT 316 The Nix of the Millpond, of which Grimm 181 ‘The Nixie in the Pond’ is an example, in which an old woman helps the wife to recover her husband from the nixie. 432 E.g. Dionysus, E. Ba. 1017-19; Achelous, S. Tr. 9-14. 433 Burnell (1949) 204-5. 434 Unlike Hylas, the man in Grimm 181 is rescued by his wife, who overcomes the nymphs using a series of magical items. This pattern is repeated in 79 ‘The Water-Nixie’; I shall return to the use of magical items below.

109 water-creature is a danger to the mortals with whom she interacts, further echoing the Sirens of Odyssey 12. This danger is expanded upon in the folktale variant, as the nixie is deceptive both in appearance and in her interaction with the miller (again generating a possible relationship to the Sirens), and causes further harm even after her captive is rescued.

iii. Shapeshifters beyond Greece

Shapeshifting is not limited to water spirits: just as in Greek myth the apparent predisposition of water-deities to shapeshifting does not mean the phenomenon is limited to them, shapeshifters exist in a variety of forms in other mythological and folkloric systems. In Celtic myth, MacCulloch notes, the ‘Transformation Combat’ motif (ST D615) is often linked to the Celtic idea of rebirth.435 A 16th century Welsh tale, Hanes Taliesin, sees the hero shapeshift into various forms, as does his pursuer, Cerridwen, who eventually transforms into a hen and eats the hero in the form of a grain of wheat. This causes Cerridwen to become pregnant, and the hero is later reborn as Taliesin. MacCulloch provides two further shapeshifting tales which both similarly concern pairs of shapeshifters matched against one another.436 The pairing of shapeshifters distinguishes these myths from the shapeshifting of Proteus and Thetis, where a non-magical mortal must be matched against a shapeshifter. The sequence in Hanes Taliesin in particular, however, contains several resemblances with the episodes of Metis and Nemesis. Both of these Greek shapeshifters transform in order to escape Zeus and their shapeshifting – particularly that of Nemesis – is figured as a flight, in contrast to the wrestling match of Menelaus with Proteus, or Peleus with Thetis. In response to Nemesis’ transformation into a goose, Zeus transforms himself into a swan;437 Nemesis later lays an egg from which Helen is born.438 Although the motif of rebirth central to the Welsh tale is thus absent from the Greek myth, the motif of pregnancy arising from shapeshifting allows for comparison of these narratives.439 Moreover,

435 MacCulloch (1996) 57. 436 MacCulloch (1996) 59. 437 Or a goose: Cypr. fr.11. 438 Cf. Currie (2015) 300-2. 439 A further instance strengthening this connection is that of Loki becoming pregnant while in the form of a horse and giving birth to Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse of Norse mythology, Gylfaginning 42: ‘And the same evening, when the builder drove out for stone with his stallion

110 Cerridwen’s ingestion of Taliesin recalls the culmination of Metis’ shapeshifting, being swallowed by Zeus.440 Each of these instances therefore corresponds to a form of ST D671 Transformation flight.

Elsewhere, shapeshifting may be associated with figures belonging to the ‘Trickster’ type, as is the case in a North American tale recorded by Thompson, ‘Manabozho’s Adventures’, in which the Trickster turns himself into an ant in order to eat the tiny remaining portion of a meal.441 The Norse trickster god Loki possesses the ability both to transform himself (Gylfaginning 42)442 and to overcome other shapeshifters (Skáldskaparmál 39.21-3).443 In Navajo tales, the Skinwalker is a potentially dangerous, or at least malicious figure – a human witch who can transform at will into various animal shapes, e.g. a coyote, and poses a threat to humans.444 These Skinwalkers may be distinguished from the Trickster shapeshifters through their harmful intent, but the pervasiveness of this threat and its wide application to Tricksters may point to wider cultural anxieties regarding shape-changing.

iv. Swan Maidens

The motif of marriage to a shapeshifter can also be located in folktale. ST D361.1 Swan Maiden concerns the presence of a swan who can transform into a woman and back into an animal through the use of a ‘swan coat’, and whose primary identity (as either swan or woman) is not always clear. At ST D721 the shapeshifter is prevented from further transformations by having her coat removed, and – following marriage and (usually) the birth of children, the swan maiden finds her clothes and resumes her shapeshifting (cf. ST D361.1.1 Swan Maiden finds her hidden wings and resumes her form). A comprehensive study of this tale type has

Svadilfæri, there ran out of a certain wood a mare up to the stallion and neighed at it… and these horses ran around all night… But Loki had such dealings with Svadilfæri that somewhat later he gave birth to a foal.’ (trans. Faulkes (1995)). 440 This action itself of course results in a form of pregnancy/birth, in the form of Athene’s birth from Zeus’ head. 441 Thompson (1971) 56-7. 442 See above, n.436. 443 Cf. Reginsmál 7-8, 15-17. The shapeshifter here is a dwarf, Andvari; the focus of this episode is on the cursed ring which Loki takes from the dwarf and uses later in the narrative. Faulkes (1995) 222-6 provides a summary of the text. Moreover, Andvari is not the only shapeshifter in this narrative, as Loki also kills Otr while in the form of an otter at Skáldskaparmál 39.1-15. 444 See Brady (1984).

111 been made by Hatto,445 who notes that this tale occurred in China as early as AD 300.446 ST D361.1 seems particularly pervasive in the Märchen, which features multiple instances of swan-clothes being used to transform mortals. The motif can be found in Grimm 193 ‘The Drummer’, in which the eponymous hero unwittingly prevents a woman from joining her sisters in their flight (in accordance with a spell) by taking her clothes from the side of a lake. The Drummer returns her clothes and sets off to rescue the woman; eventually he does so and, with the curse broken, she remains in human form thereafter. Within European folktale, this motif is not limited to female characters, and of the three variants two concern transformed men or boys: in Grimm 49 ‘The Six Swans’, six boys are turned into swans by their step-mother (who throws swan-shirts over them) and must be rescued by their sister (who makes shirts for her brothers);447 in Grimm 249 ‘Prince Swan’ we find almost a reversal of ‘The Drummer’, as a woman must untangle yarn to save a prince turned into a swan and overcome challenges in order to marry him. In each instance, it is a central component of the narrative that the swan-person must be human in their ‘true’ form, and they must resume this by the narrative’s end, often in order to allow for marriage between the hero (or heroine) and Swan Maiden (or Prince).

In Norse myth, we find a more elaborate analogue for the story-type as a whole reflected in the Völundarkviða, a poem found preserved in the Codex Regius, in which three brothers marry three Valkyries448 who possess swan cloaks,449 and who leave the brothers to return to their swan forms after nine years. The poem is

445 Hatto (1961). See also Dronke (1997) 258-9. 446 Hatto (1961) 331. 447 This tale is particularly interesting because there is an instance of incomplete transformation, which perhaps suggests some anxiety about this kind of dual-morphism: the sister does not manage to complete the final shirt, leaving a sleeve unstitched, and as a result one of the brothers retains a swan’s wing in place of his arm. 448 The women are identified as such in the text’s prose prologue. Dronke (1997) 301-2 suggests that this is a mistaken identification. She also notes (258-9) that Völundarkviða does not entirely match the swan maiden legend, but states (285) that despite the discrepancies in the text, ‘that legend, with its theme of migratory change, must still be the source of the story in Vǫlundarkviða 1-3’. 449 Transformation by means of clothing is by no means limited to swans. In Norse mythology, the goddess Freyja possesses a feather cloak (fiaðrhamr) which she lends to Loki (Þrym 5, 9) (Dronke (1997) 301), while in Volsunga 8 Sigmund and his son Sinfjotli discover wolf-skins and put them on only to find themselves transformed into wolves and unable to remove the skins for ten days – similar to the restrictions imposed upon those transformed by swan-clothes. This is paralleled in Grimm 101 ‘Bearskin’ where a man is forced to wear a bearskin and not to bathe for seven years. Although no actual transformation occurs, the man appears so horrifying that he is largely rejected by society – this is another folktale concerned with appearance and reality.

112 concerned first with the dual nature of these women, who display human characteristics and enjoy their marriages, but become desperate to return to their ‘fate’ after several years (3); this duality is reflected in the latter part of the poem in the revelation of the hero’s dual nature, as he is revealed to be a supernatural being himself (29).450 Dronke discusses this in more detail, and notes a variety of Classical analogues that exist in this poem, including a possible association of Vǫlundr with Hephaestus through their common role as a disabled smith.451 Unlike the variants found in Grimms’ tales, these swan maidens possess their own powers of transformation, and are not under any curse. As such, the quest to return them to their mortal form is naturally – initially – absent, although there appears to be an echo of this in Vǫlundr’s attempts to encourage his wife to return.452 Nor are these swan maidens prevented from shapeshifting by having their clothes stolen, but as with Thetis and Peleus, the female shapeshifters’ status is emphatically distinct from mortals and is a driving force in the eventual collapse of the marriage. Just as Thetis returns to Nereus, the Valkyries abandon their husbands to seek their fate (or war).

Of course, just as the legend in Völundarkviða does not map perfectly onto the story as detailed in Thompson’s motifs but still invites comparison with these motifs, I suggest that we can usefully find parallels with the legend and its motifs in the Greek shapeshifter myths, particularly that of Thetis. Among these characters, shared features such as the presence of a watery being and location, the marriage to a supernatural figure, the eventual rejection of marriage in favour of returning to one’s original (supernatural) status, and the subsequent recommencement of shapeshifting, invite comparison with Thetis as a shapeshifting water-dweller who abandons her mortal husband. If we accept this, then Peleus’ struggle with Thetis during her shapeshifting must equate structurally to the theft (intentional or otherwise) of the Swan Maiden’s clothes. The absence of the swan-cloak (or coat, etc.) need not trouble us; in the tale-type formed of Thompson’s motifs given above, the clothes act as a symbol of the Swan Maiden’s power and it is the act of

450 On this see Dronke (1997) 255. 451 See Dronke (1997) 255 and 259-69. Dronke also proposes a resemblance to the Bacchae in the poem’s final image, as the king – bereft of his sons – looks up at Vǫlundr flying above him (vv.37-8) and realises the extent of his helplessness in the face of a supernatural adversary whom he has misidentified and mistreated. 452 This involves forging 700 rings – not an impossible task for a supernatural being but certainly a laborious one, vv.6-11.

113 stealing and returning them which stands in for her reduction to and later rejection of mortality/human form, just as Thetis’ animal forms symbolise the danger she possesses and the extent of her powers. While the Swan Maiden is forced to marry the clothes-thief because of her inability to transform, Thetis is forced to marry the man who overcomes her by Zeus’ injunction and by her role as a shapeshifting nymph. In neither case, though, does this result in a full rejection of transformation: whether swan maiden or shapeshifting deity, these beings simply cannot remain in a mortal setting for long.

v. Magical gifts: the divine helper

Next, I wish to move away from the shapeshifters themselves in order to focus on the role of the divine helper. The helper-maiden role is well-established in myth and folktale, and is classified as AT 313, The Girl as Helper in the Hero’s Flight. Medea is a natural analogue in Greek myth, helping Jason to overcome her father’s impossible tasks and escape Colchis;453 Ariadne also plays this role in aiding Theseus in defeating the Minotaur.454 Eidothea similarly assists Menelaus in defeating her father, Proteus, as, like Medea, she provides both information and supernatural assistance, this time in the form of the seal skins she procures and the ambrosia which allows Menelaus and his men to bear their disguise, and which renders their disguise a form of transformation.455 It is through the presence of this divine or magical gift that we may see a connection with folktale, as an item which lends an advantage to the bearer. This is ST D810 Magic object a gift,456 a motif which can also be identified in Theseus’ defeat of the Minotaur, or Perseus’ of the

453 A.R. 3.1026-62: Medea advises Jason and provides him with a φάρμακον to protect him against the sown men; 4.145-61: enchants the snake guarding the fleece; cf. her bewitchment of Talos at 4.1669-72. 454 A.R. 3.997-9, see Hansen (2002) 151-160. This is AT 313C with the inclusion of The Forgotten Fiancée. 455 As above, chapter 1.3. 456 Cf. D811.1 Magic object received from goddess; D812 Magic object received from supernatural being.

114 Gorgon.457 In fact, the presence of this tale-type may further strengthen the portrayal of Proteus as a monstrous adversary.458

The presence of the magical item also calls to mind Odysseus’ interaction with Leucothea in the Odyssey.459 The goddess – a transformed sea deity – presents Odysseus with her veil after the destruction of his raft by Poseidon. Like Eidothea, therefore, Leucothea acts against a deity of higher authority with whom she shares a connection, this time in the form of their shared environment, and does so by providing a hero with supernatural assistance.460 This assistance generates a ring composition to Odysseus’ time on Scheria, as the hero both arrives on and departs from the island by means of supernatural assistance (Leucothea’s veil and the Phaeacian ship). Unlike Eidothea’s gift of the ambrosia, Leucothea’s veil does not transform Odysseus (this, in fact, is left to Athene in Book 6).461 However, that the gift comes from a sea-goddess and concerns aiding a mortal against another sea- deity, links these two episodes together. The motif, identifiable in relation to folktale, is here employed with the effect of strengthening the connection between Odysseus and Menelaus.

vi. Conclusion

To conclude, this survey of international tales, motifs and themes has brought to light several possible analogues for Greek shapeshifter myths. The marriage theme, and in particular its eventual rejection, allows us to read female shapeshifters against the widespread Swan Maiden legend and further explains the inevitability

457 Ariadne’s gift of thread is at AT 874*; ST R121.5. In Propp’s terms, this corresponds to function F (‘provision or receipt of a magical agent’), specifically F1 The agent is directly transferred. Read through this lens, we may further identify Eidothea’s indication of Proteus’ resting place as corresponding to function F2 The agent is pointed out, since the location of Menelaus’ attack is equally significant. 458 As stated above, Proteus may be read as adhering to Propp’s first function of the donor, D9 A hostile creature engages the hero in combat, but this need not contradict his status as a monstrous figure since some form of aggression is inherent in this function. 459 Od. 5.333-53. 460 Leucothea’s interaction with Odysseus further recalls Eidothea’s with Menelaus in the manner of the goddess’ address to the hero, which begins with a rhetorical, although more sympathetic question, Od. 5.339-40: κάμμορε, τίπτε τοι ὧδε Ποσειδάων ἐνοσίχθων / ὠδύσατ᾽ ἐκπάγλως, ὅτι τοι κακὰ πολλὰ φυτεύει; (cf. Eidothea’s question at 4.371-2). Unlike Menelaus, however, Odysseus does not trust Leucothea initially (356-7) but fears a δόλον…ἀθανάτων, and only obeys out of necessity. 461 Od. 6.229-35.

115 of Thetis’ and Mestra’s returning to their fathers (and to shapeshifting). The presence of ST D716 Transformation combat and its appearance in Celtic myth helps us to make sense of the ‘outlier’ shapeshifters, Metis and Nemesis, whose transformation sequences otherwise appear somewhat disconnected from those of Proteus or Thetis. The motifs of ingestion, pregnancy, and paired shapeshifting allow us to view these episodes in the context of a wider, international tradition. Against this, the latent connections between Nemesis’ and Metis’ respective sequences become apparent, and thus we might view the two as connected figures, a more closely related branch of the larger family of shapeshifters in Greek myth. Possible analogues with Proteus’ shapeshifting, as we might expect, are many in the international tales discussed: this underlines the significance of such a shapeshifter even outside the Greek tradition and culture. Motifs of magical gifts suggest the true narrative significance of Eidothea’s and Leucothea’s help in the Odyssey: the gifts of ambrosia and the veil are by no means unimportant, but rather form part of the episodes’ makeup, reinforcing the connection between Menelaus and Odysseus, and furthering its parallel with folktale. It is through this approach that we can appreciate more fully the significance of Proteus as a shapeshifter in the Odyssey, and gain a deeper understanding of the complexity of shapeshifter narratives more generally.

116 2.2 Elements of characterisation i. Relationship/proximity to water

I wish to turn now to some further important aspects of the characterisation and narrative role of shapeshifters in order to develop our understanding of these figures and the patterns and sub-groups which emerge among them. The affinity between our central shapeshifters – Thetis, Proteus, and Dionysus – and water has been widely noted,462 and is such that it forms one aspect of the family resemblances discussed in the Introduction. As I shall explore below, however, this affinity is not shared by all shapeshifters, and, where it does feature, the connection can occur to varying degrees. I have already discussed the appearance of water as an element in Proteus’ transformations in chapter 1.2, and I shall explore the intratextual connections this generates between Menelaus’ and Odysseus’ respective journeys and struggles with deities in chapter 3.1. In this chapter I explore the impact of water as a background to transformations and to shapeshifting narratives, and as a linking feature connecting various shapeshifters. I shall also discuss the ‘sea leap’ motif as I look more closely at some of the transformative characteristics of water in the Greek imagination, and the threat of drowning and, as I shall touch on here, of monsters, which open water presents.

a. Water as backdrop

As we have seen, proximity to the sea – either literal or metaphorical – is a feature shared by our three primary shapeshifters. Proteus, a sea god, transforms on the seashore, surrounded by his herd of seals; Thetis is a sea nymph, the daughter of another Halios Gerōn, Nereus, and her shapeshifting marks a (temporary) transition from this environment to life as Peleus’ wife; Dionysus is not a sea-god but undergoes his shapeshifting episode at sea and inflicts transformations onto his mortal victims/aggressors by contact with this environment. Furthermore, Dionysus bears a latent connection to water through being rescued by Thetis and raised in the sea. We also find hints of this affinity in other shapeshifters: Metis is a

462 Buxton (2009) 174-5, Forbes Irving (1990) 173-4, Frontisi-Ducroux (2003) 23-55, esp. 40.

117 daughter of Ocean,463 and Mestra and Periclymenus – mortals who would not typically have the power to change shape – are granted their powers by Poseidon.464

Let us first consider the depiction of water (typically the sea) as the location of shapeshifting episodes. Menelaus’ meeting with Proteus at the sea-shore ties into the themes of sea travel and isolation by sea which are central to the Odyssey. In the Odyssey the sea is an ambiguous presence, at times providing refuge or safety (as with Circe’s island),465 and at others appearing as the habitat of monsters (e.g. Scylla),466 or a means of delay or entrapment (e.g. Calypso’s island).467 The sea’s multifaceted nature in the poem is perfectly encapsulated by Odysseus’ interactions with Circe and Calypso, whose respective islands form opposite ends of this spectrum: Odysseus can leave Circe’s island when he wishes, and receives help from the goddess to advance his nostos, while his stay on Calypso’s island sees him without a ship and unable to escape precisely because the goddess is unwilling to allow him to do so. This ambivalence is deeply rooted in the narrative and in its characters: Odysseus’ suspicion and fear of the sea is such that he distrusts Leucothea’s help when given her veil, suspecting a trick (δόλον) and afraid that the gods might send a sea-monster (κῆτος…μέγα) against him.468 The sea/shore location is thus entirely apt for Proteus, a god who is initially hostile and represents danger, but who is essential to Menelaus’ nostos. As a narrative setting, the sea/shore acts as a remote space in both Homeric epics, emphasising the loneliness and separation of characters such as Odysseus or Achilles. In Achilles’ case, we may read the sea as a kind of boundary, not simply a location itself but a force separating others.469

463 Hes. Th. 240-4. 464 Hes. Cat. fr.43c M-W. 465 Od. 10.466-8. 466 Od. 12.80-85. 467 Od. 5.81ff. Vermeule (1979) esp. 179-85 discusses the relationship of the sea to death in Greek poetry, cf. Uhlig (2018) 84-5. 468 Od. 5.356-7, 421-2. 469 The sea location not only acts as a setting where Achilles can be comforted by his mother, but additionally emphasises Achilles’ loneliness and separation from his fellow soldiers. In order to reach this location Achilles retires far off (νόσφι λιασθείς, Il. 1.349), and thus physically isolates himself from his companions. As Kirk (1985) ad 1.350 notes, when Achilles looks out over the ἀπείρονα πόντον (1.350), he resembles Odysseus trapped on Calypso’s island, creating a strong sense of pathos. The image of the sea as a boundary persists outside the Homeric works, for example in Theocritus' Idyll 11, which builds on the Homeric presentation by having Polyphemus describe the difficulties the sea presents for his would-be relationship with

118 This remoteness, furthermore, characterises certain figures associated with the sea, particularly Thetis. The sea-goddess’ separation from the mortal, and immortal, spheres of myth stems from her location in the sea; she is physically distanced from the Olympian deities and is located in an environment hostile to mortals.470 While deities such as Iris can deliberately enter Thetis’ domicile, they do so under the command of Zeus or Hera,471 and Thetis must travel or be summoned to Olympus,472 rather than simply belonging there. The sea and Thetis’ innate connection to it therefore create a separation, one which is essential to her characterisation (in particular, the threat her potential child represents to Zeus’ rule),473 and to narratives concerning other gods who are somehow rejected or alienated from Olympian society, Hephaestus and Dionysus. This may be an issue of perspective: for Dionysus and Hephaestus, the sea is a place of refuge and safety, and for Thetis, the location in which she finds company in the other Nereids. For the Olympians, the sea represents an area over which their sway is not perhaps as fixed as others,474 while for mortals the sea is an inhospitable and indifferent landscape, as expressed in Patroclus’ remarks to Achilles:

γλαυκὴ δέ σε τίκτε θάλασσα πέτραι τ᾽ ἠλίβατοι, ὅτι τοι νόος ἐστὶν ἀπηνής.475

Perspective, too, must influence descriptions of the sea, and in fact Forbes Irving suggests that common epithets for the sea, including ἀπείρων, express the sea’s shapelessness as well as its vast expanse;476 the sea is thus to some extent

Galatea. Polyphemus, unable to persuade Galatea to leave the sea, wishes that he had been born with gills (βράγχια, 54), a sentiment which the audience understands is as futile a wish as for Galatea to leave the sea. This emphasises the Cyclops’ complete lack of understanding and also positions the sea as a physical barrier between the two characters. 470 On this point Thetis’ situation bears comparison with Calypso’s in the Odyssey, as Hermes (notably a figure associated with crossing boundaries (e.g. in his role as psychopomp at Od. 24.2-10, cf. 5.47-9 = Il. 24.343-5)) emphasises the expanse he must traverse in order to reach Calypso’s island, and the undesirability of making the journey, Od. 5.100-1ff. 471 Il. 24.74-6, A.R. 4.757-9. 472 E.g. at Il. 1.495-9 and 24.93-9. 473 See Slatkin (1991). 474 Indeed Poseidon, as Larson (2007) 68 notes, rules over the sea, but is not of it; it is instead Amphitrite who is more closely associated with the sea and with the generation of sea-creatures (Od. 5.421-2; Hes. Th. 240-3). 475 Il. 16.34-5, see Hurwit (1991) 35. 476 Forbes Irving (1990) 173-4

119 indefinable, a non-place. The sea may also represent a temporal boundary, delineating ages and progress as well as geographic space.477

Within this, it is also worthy of note that, in Proteus’ case, the sea/land boundary is mediated by Proteus’ entrance onto land, specifically into the ‘hollow caves’ (σπέσσι γλαφυροῖσιν, 4.403). Without this movement, Proteus would be unassailable; as I shall discuss in more detail in the following section, this transference from the sea to land is one feature of the narrative which renders Proteus vulnerable to attack. The cave setting, a literal border between sea and land, brings about change in both Proteus, who takes on the role of a seal-herd, and Menelaus, who must adopt a marine disguise and hide himself using the skin of a ‘sea-monster’ (κήτεϊ, 4.443). As Aston has discussed, the unbearable smell of the seals is one indicator of the ‘alien quality’ of the sea environment;478 the cave location generates a blurring of the two environments, allowing for Menelaus to approach Proteus but also requiring some form of assimilation.

Similarly, Thetis is associated with Cape Sepias in cult worship and in literature,479 a site linked to her transformation into a cuttlefish (σηπία) in some versions of her shapeshifting episode. As the site of her abduction/transformation and worship, Cape Sepias provides a means of access to the Nereid which recalls Menelaus’ access to Proteus, but with a focus on safe passage by sea, a primary concern related to marine deities,480 rather than prophetic knowledge. Herodotus relates that the Persian Magi sacrificed to ‘Thetis and the Nereids’ in order to calm a storm which had lasted for three days, thus recalling Menelaus’ situation in the Odyssey. This suggests a close affinity between the two encounters: while Menelaus’ request is explicitly for knowledge (οἶσθα, γέρον, 4.465), the information required is the means of placating the god or gods prolonging his stay in Egypt and will enable the hero to continue his sea journey (ὡς ἐπὶ πόντον ἐλεύσομαι ἰχθυόεντα, 4.470) and is therefore as much related to safe travel as to prophecy.

477 Hesiod (Op. 225-37) states that the just (οἳ δὲ δίκας ξείνοισι καὶ ἐνδήμοισι, 225), who live an idealised existence, do not sail: οὐδ᾽ ἐπὶ νηῶν / νίσσονται, 236-7. See also the depiction of the Cyclopes in Od. 9.125-30. 478 Aston (2011) 167. 479 E.g. Hdt. 7.191.2. 480 Larson (2007) 68-9.

120 The examples discussed above rely on the sea’s ambiguous role in Greek poetry, but also position the mortal characters as actively seeking the encounter, despite being at a disadvantage. The Homeric Hymn to Dionysus presents a strikingly different scenario. The sea is actively used by Dionysus to bait his trap: just as his youthful appearance on the cliff influences the pirates’ kidnapping and their fate at the god’s hands, the sea location, and in particular the pirates’ ship, further emphasise Dionysus’ apparent helplessness. The sailors appear to be in control of their vessel and their passage, but in fact end up swallowed by the sea when turned into dolphins.481

b. Sea Leap motif

As is made clear in Dionysus’ Hymn, the sea is a transformative space. Playing into this depiction, perhaps, are the instances of the ‘Sea Leap’, in which a character with no transformative powers of their own undergoes a metamorphosis on touching the sea. Ino is one such example, a mortal woman who attempts to escape her husband’s madness and throws herself into the sea along with her child, Melikertes,482 becoming a sea-goddess who provides safe passage across the sea.483 Glaucos is similarly turned into a sea-deity on contact with the sea, and appears in Apollonius’ Argonautica as a Triton-esque figure.484 In both cases, the transformation is a positive one; this is particularly clear in Ino’s case, where imminent death is exchanged for apotheosis. Not all such experiences are so positive, however. Hecabe’s prophesied transformation into a dog precedes (but is certainly connected to) her leap into the sea, but will result in her death and loss of self. Where Ino received divinity and a new name, Hecabe’s name is lost in favour of her new shape (as discussed above in chapter 1.1). We may see a parallel of sorts here with the unnamed pirates of Dionysus’ Hymn, whose names are not preserved

481 This is another connection with the events of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, in which the sailors’ sense of authority over their environment is undermined by Apollo’s action of transforming on their ship and assuming control. 482 See e.g. Od. 5.333, Pi. O. 2.28-30. This myth was also the subject of a lost play by Aeschylus. Cf. the version in E. Med. 1284-9 which has Ino throw herself into the sea, killing her two children in the process. 483 Od. 5.339-53. Larson (2007) 69 suggests that Leucothea possess a ‘dual identity’ as drowned mortals and immortal gods and are thus connected with rebirth and the afterlife, which ties into the depiction of Nereids as mourners, e.g. at Od. 24.55-9. 484 A.R. 1.309ff. As Aston (2011) 163-4 notes, another important element here is the grass which Glaucos eats prior to his sea leap; see Vermeule (1979) 131-2.

121 and for whom there appears no possibility of returning to human form after transformation as punishment for crossing the god.485 The Sea Leap motif, however, is not limited to metamorphosis, but is typically associated with the deaths of a range of figures in Greek poetry. Sappho, for instance, is said to have thrown herself into the sea from the island of Leucas.486 This motif is also common to figures of myth: Aegeus throws himself either from the Acropolis or into the sea on seeing Theseus’ black sails,487 while Helle falls into the sea while being carried by the golden ram along with her brother Phrixos.488 In these latter two cases, the respective sea-leaps were at least later taken to explain the names of the Aegean Sea and the Hellespont, and thus may hint at a kind of transformation of name if not of form. Similarly, Icarus’ fall into the sea during his attempted escape from Crete is described as the etymology for the Icarian Sea in Apollodorus’ Epitome.489 Each of these aetiological myths stand in contrast to Hecabe’s loss of her name. The Sea Leap is not always associated with death, however, as in Herodotus’ tale of Arion’s escape from his would-be killers, falling into the sea appears in opposition to death and burial on land (ἢ αὐτὸν διαχρᾶσθαί μιν, ὡς ἂν ταφῆς ἐν γῇ τύχῃ, ἢ ἐκπηδᾶν ἐς τὴν θάλασσαν τὴν ταχίστην) and in fact allows Arion to be rescued by a dolphin and returned safely to land.490

c. Threat of drowning and danger

As a potentially formless and dangerous environment, therefore, the sea is not only an appropriate location in which to meet a shapeshifter, but is also reflected in the interactions themselves. The ambivalence of water, moreover, is not limited to the sea, but also applies to certain springs, such as Telphousa in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. Buxton writes on the ambiguity of springs, and suggests that they may be ‘tamed’ in mythology, for easier access to their life-giving potential,491 yet in this

485 This negative view of sea-transformations persists into later Latin poetry, as we see – for instance – Scylla transformed from a beautiful nymph into a creature resembling her Odyssean counterpart in Ov. Met. 14.59-67. 486 Str. 10.2.9 = Sapph. Testamonia 23, cf. E. Cyc. 166-7 and Alciphr. 1.11.4. 487 Paus. 22.5-6 simply records that he fell to his death, cf. Apollod. Epit. 1.10, while Hyg. Fab. 44 explicitly gives the Aegean Sea as the location. 488 A.R. 1.256-9, 2.1141-5, cf. Hyg. Fab. 3. 489 Apollod. Epit. 1.13. 490 Hdt. 1.24. 491 Buxton (1994) 109 and see ff for their ambiguity. Hurwit (1991) 35, 57 n.28 discusses the emphasis placed in early Greek poetry on harmony with nature only after it has been

122 Hymn Apollo’s taming of Telphousa appears agressive in nature (with ᾔσχυνε suggesting some form of violence or disfigurement).492 This results from Telphousa’s attempt to deceive (ἐξαπαφοῦσα) Apollo493 and is intended as a punishment for her pride.494 Here at least, water is not just ambiguous but untrustworthy, requiring suspicion.

This suspicion invites a comparison with the water of the Styx, which is presented in the Theogony as a marker of honesty or faithfulness (specifically with regard to swearing oaths) such that those gods who break their word are cut off from Olympian society and must lie in a state similar to death (νήυτμος) for a year,495 in which they cannot eat ambrosia or nectar, before spending nine further years cut off (ἀπαμείρεται) from the other gods.496 Even for immortal beings, the time span indicates the severity of this punishment, but it is the binding which is perhaps the most striking feature. It was by binding Zeus (as we learn in Iliad 1) that Hera, Poseidon, and Athene attempted to overthrow his rule, a ‘shameful ruin’ (ἀεικέα λοιγόν) which Thetis averted with the help of Briareus.497 Olympian deities may not die, but binding appears to stand in for this fate. The word λοιγός is a particularly evocative term here, as it is used elsewhere in the Iliad to refer to a plague498 and injury or defeat in battle,499 in both cases potentially fatal events for mortals. This connection between binding and death or quasi-death is made even more apparent in the embedded narrative of Ares bound by Otus and Ephialtes, told to comfort Aphrodite.500 In this myth, presented alongside two other tales of gods physically injured by mortals (and additionally connected to Aphrodite’s injury at Diomedes’ hands), we are told that Ares was bound and kept in a bronze jar for thirteen months and would have died (καί νύ κεν ἔνθ᾽ ἀπόλοιτο Ἄρης, 5.388), if he had not been rescued in time by Hermes. Here, binding is not simply a

‘domesticated’.Cf. Larson (2007) 59 on the depiction of Calypso’s garden in the Odyssey and its analogue in Alcinous’ palace. 492 h.Ap. 387; LSJ s.v. αἰσχύνω. 493 h.Ap. 379. 494 Clay (1989) 72-3. 495 This is further qualified at Th. 797 with ἀνάπνευστος καὶ ἄναυδος; the god in question cannot breathe, eat, or speak. 496 Hes. Th. 793-804. 497 Il. 1.396-406. 498 Il. 1.67. 499 Il. 5.603. 500 Il. 5.385-91.

123 substitute for death but may actually bring this about even for an immortal.501 Separation from the gods is also a significant aspect of this punishment, as this too may be read as a form of death, as for instance in Persephone’s abduction to Hades in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, in which Persephone – though certainly alive – is mourned by her mother.502 The punishment for reneging on an oath sworn on the water of the River Styx therefore carries a wealth of connections: unlike Telphousa’s spring, which inspires distrust, this water is inimical to dishonesty.

It is not simply a concern of dishonesty which prompts suspicion over springs or bodies of water. In the Argonautica Hylas is snatched into a water- nymph’s pond and drowns, a pitiful scene which is made all the more emphatic by Heracles’ subsequent reaction and descent into animalistic behaviour.503 Similar hostility is also found in the Iliad, in Achilles’ fight with the River Scamander, as the god threatens not only to drown Achilles but to hide his remains and prevent the Greeks from burying his body.504 The danger to Achilles, emphasised by Scamander’s fury and the poet’s descriptions of the height and force of his attack,505 is not just physical: without burial, Achilles’ kleos and his passage to the underworld are also at risk.506 This threat echoes that of being eaten by animals in place of burial, found throughout the Iliad,507 a contrast which is starkly presented in Achilles’ words to Hector:

501 Further examples of binding narratives include Zeus’ punishment of Hera (Il. 15.18-24) and, in the Odyssey, Hephaestus’ humiliating rather than overtly dangerous ‘capture’ of Ares and Aphrodite (8.295ff). These events are further linked by their taking place in the mythic past; they point to a level of instability among the gods which is more in line with the chaotic world of the Theogony before the establishment of order than the (more) orderly world of the main Homeric narratives, in which the discord never reaches the same level. See Slatkin (1991) 66-69 on the significance of binding motifs. 502 h.Cer. 40-4. The depiction of Persephone’s separation from Demeter as a quasi-death is developed both by her position in the underworld and by Demeter’s own separation from Olympus and her attempted revenge of causing a year-long winter and destroying all life on earth, 302-13, the severity of which was only overcome by Zeus’ quick-thinking, εἰ μὴ Ζεὺς ἐνόησεν ἑῷ τ᾽ ἐφράσσατο θυμῷ, 313. This echoes Zeus’ defeat of Typhon, Hes.Th. 838: εἰ μὴ ἄρ᾽ ὀξὺ νόησε πατὴρ ἀνδρῶν τε θεῶν τε, another potentially disastrous threat. 503 A.R. 1.1221-39, 1265-72. See Larson (2001) 66-77 on abduction by nymphs. 504 Il. 21.318-23. Nagy (1979) 160 suggests that this threat is in some senses fulfilled by the Greeks’ placement of a funeral mound for the hero by the Hellespont, Od. 24.80-4. 505 For instance, the description at 21.235, which is contributed to by the mention of Achilles’ fear (δείσας, 248) and the apparent inability of Athene or Hera to help him, as co-operation with Hephaestus is also required. 506 Cf. Elpenor’s request at Od. 11.72-8; Vermeule (1979) 184-5 507 E.g. Il. 15.351, 17.241. Cf. Eumaeus’ fear for Odysseus at Od. 14.133-6.

124 σὲ μὲν κύνες ἠδ᾽ οἰωνοὶ ἑλκήσουσ᾽ ἀϊκῶς, τὸν δὲ κτεριοῦσιν Ἀχαιοί508

This threat is compounded several lines later by Achilles’ wish to eat Hector’s flesh raw and reiteration of his intention to leave Hector’s body unburied and so deny his family the chance to mourn him.509 Achilles’ threat here is striking in its content, despite its remoteness (αἲ γάρ πως, 346), and expresses a level of violence which is not actualised in the epic, as Segal notes, ‘The eating of raw flesh and the image of the dogs worrying the head of the corpse… surpass anything else in the Iliad in the outrage of a fallen enemy.’510 However, the very real danger presented by Scamander is all the more striking since the fear/threat of being eaten by animals or fish does not actually occur in the case of Homeric heroes. Despite Achilles’ threat, Hector’s body is preserved even from the damage inflicted by being dragged around the battlefield, and Patroclus’ body is similarly protected by Thetis.511 Nor do heroes tend to drown: Odysseus and his men are protected from the Sirens (and in the Odyssey the threat appears to be one of wasting away listening to their song, rather than drowning on the way to reach the island)512 while in Apollonius’ Argonautica Butes, who leaps from the ship before Orpheus manages to distract the crew, is plucked safely from the water before he reaches the Sirens.513 Other figures who find themselves in open water may wash up (or be dragged up by fishermen) on shore – as is the case of Odysseus on Phaeacia,514 Hypsipyle’s father Thoas in the Argonautica,515 and Danae,516 the latter two both deliberately thrown into the water in vessels and rescued by fishermen.

508 Il. 22.335-6. 509 Il. 22.345-54. 510 Segal (1971) 39. 511 Hector: Il. 24.410-28; Patroclus: Il. 19.30-33. 512 Od. 12.41-6. Circe uses the word θέλγω, ‘enchant’, twice (40, 44) to describe the Sirens’ effect. 513 A.R. 4.912-19. The actual danger here is somewhat vague: the narrator tells us that Cypris rescues Butes before the Sirens could take away his nostos, surely a reference to death which echoes the Odyssey (e.g. 12.41-6 of the Sirens’ effect), and one which may indicate that the Sirens themselves are the danger. However, if the danger posed by the Sirens is one of slowly wasting away, the use of καταυτόθι suggests a more immediate danger which, coupled with Butes’ position ἐν δίναις, may suggest drowning. In either case, the event has a seemingly permanent effect on the hero; Cypris does not return him to the ship, but instead brings him to live (ναιέμεν) on Lilybaeum. 514 Od. 5.424ff. 515 A.R. 1.620-6. 516 A. fr.46a Radt.

125 For Achilles, the combined attempts of both Hera and Athene prove ineffectual against Scamander’s strength, distancing this situation from those described above. In fact, the contrast is brought even more sharply into focus by the river god’s treatment of the living Trojans,517 whom he ‘hides’ (κρύπτων) and protects from harm (σάω) while attacking Achilles with a current horrifyingly full of corpses, swept along as he advances.518 Here we plainly see the divide between what heroes in danger at sea may expect – to be protected by a god – and what Achilles is in danger of experiencing – anonymity and disfigurement in death.

Above all, therefore, the representation of water in Greek myth and poetry is deeply rooted in ambiguity. Water-deities invite suspicion and have the potential to cause harm even to gods or in spite of their support but may at times provide much-needed help (as do Eidothea, Leucothea, and Thetis). These gods are often primeval entities, belonging to the earliest generations of divinities in the cosmogony,519 and are associated with the generation of monsters.520 As elemental beings, they act as challengers to the order established over the course of the Theogony, a role which is not limited to marine gods. Gaia, for instance, acts as a catalyst for succession several times in the Theogony, prompting Cronos to overthrow Ouranos (159-66), advising Rhea on Zeus’ succession (468-73), giving birth to Typhon who threatens Zeus (820-2), and finally informing Zeus about the danger of Metis’ children (888-94),521 a conflicting and shifting role which is shared to some extent by Thetis in her challenge to and assistance of Zeus. As elemental beings, water deities were essential to the cosmogony, just as water and the sea were to everyday life, but also presented an inherent danger. The formlessness of water also relates to the unknowability of these figures, a feature which may further have contributed to their ambivalent role in Greek myth. In the case of shapeshifters, the marine setting foregrounds the potential danger of the encounter

517 Il. 21.238-9. 518 Il. 21.237-8. Larson (2007) 57 notes that ‘the mention of a river evokes the affective ties between a hero and his homeland,’ and compares Achilles’ fight with Scamander to his relationship to the river Spercheus (Il. 23.141-51), a symbol of his homecoming which will not be achieved. Achilles’ failure to return home is inextricably linked to the prophecy surrounding his birth; a further reminder of Achilles’ wasted potential lies in his inability to overpower Scamander due to his weaker status as a mortal. 519 Hes. Th. 108-9: εἴπατε δ᾽, ὡς τὰ πρῶτα θεοὶ καὶ γαῖα γένοντο / καὶ ποταμοὶ καὶ πόντος ἀπείριτος, 520 E.g. the children of Ceto and Phorcus at Hes. Th. 270ff. 521 It is also worthy of note that Gaia’s allegiances are not fixed: she acts against Ouranos in the first instance, but in advising Rhea and Zeus she is aligned with Ouranos.

126 and leads to transgression of boundaries, as we see clearly exemplified in Menelaus’ intrusion into Proteus’ caves. This is unsurprising for a culture such as the Greeks’, for whom the sea was a constant feature of the landscape, one which provided essential routes for trade and travel and yet made such ventures potentially life-threatening.522 The depths of the sea were essentially unknowable in the ancient world, with dangers lurking, like Charybdis, just below the surface; even today imagined horrors in the sea continue to be a source of fascination.523

ii. Shapeshifters as Tricksters

'This power of metamorphosis possessed by the Old Man of the Sea and the goddesses of the sea is associated with a particular type of intelligence compounded of craftiness, cunning and trickery which comes into play when, instead of contemplating the immutable essences, one has to come to grips with the shapeshifting, multiple and unpredictable entities of Becoming.’524

Shapeshifters, as Marcel Detienne and Jean-Paul Vernant note, embody a certain type of ‘cunning intelligence’; their narrative role is not only defined by the physical power of metamorphosis, but crosses over into the realm of disguise and trickery. The Trickster archetype itself is a well-established role in Greek myth,525 with

522 This is emphasised Hesiod’s Works and Days, as the narrator instructs Perses on the danger of sailing in the wrong conditions at 663-677 despite his lack of personal experience, see Van Noorden (2015) 196-7; see also Uhlig (2018) on the destruction of the ship in Alc. fr.208, esp. 81: ‘The reality of the sea, the force of its waves, and the terrible costs they could exact, would have been all too familiar to the many Mytileneans who had endured life aboard ship.’ Cf. also Alciphron’s Letters of Fishermen, e.g. 1.3.1: χαλεπὸν ἡ θάλαττα. 523 This trope is found both in literature, e.g. as the subject of Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (1870), or in the presence of the Watcher in the Water in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring (1954), or the titular whale and the Kraken in Melville’s Moby-Dick (1851), and in films, e.g. in the form of a huge shark in Jaws (1975), or the Kraken in Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest (2006). The Kraken itself stems from Scandinavian myth, as recorded in the 13th century Old Icelandic Saga Örvar-Oddr. 524 Detienne and Vernant (1978) 144. 525 For more general work on the Trickster as he appears in various cultures and mythological systems, see Ricketts (1966), Carroll (1984), Koepping (1985), Detienne and Vernant (1978). Ricketts (1978) 327 provides a description of the disparate elements of the Trickster (as he appears in North American myth): he may be involved in the creation of the world and may act for the benefit or harm of humanity; he is a prankster who may turn his cunning towards anyone he meets, and he is often a victim of his own trickery or suffers as a result of his actions. Above all, there is some element of the paradoxical in his nature. Koepping (1985) discusses the Trickster in terms of the ‘cunning form of intelligence and the grotesqueness of the body imagery’ (194), the latter largely with regard to the North American Winnebago Trickster of Wakdjunkaga – however, one may consider mutability of form as to some extent grotesque, and thus the Greek shapeshifter may be considered in light of both of these characteristics.

127 characters such as Hermes and Odysseus at times taking on this position in the narrative. Disguise, trickery and deception are the realm of the Trickster; both Hermes and Odysseus frequently employ disguise, show a mastery of language which results in the ability to deceive others or otherwise conceal the truth, and steal various items, particularly livestock.526 Here, I shall focus on the Trickster’s interaction with humans and the theme of theft and general deception as it appears in ancient Greek Tricksters. The depictions of shapeshifting figures also exhibit some of these elements, and the juxtaposition, particularly in Proteus’ case, of his changeable, unpredictable identity with the certainty of Menelaus receiving a truthful account on overpowering him, creates a tension between these two facets of the shapeshifter. The Trickster must cross boundaries and transgress; the shapeshifter crosses boundaries of form and identity, appearing as a god, as animals and plants, and in elemental forms. As such, it is worthwhile to explore how the themes of trickery and deception manifest in depictions of shapeshifters, and the extent to which these episodes – and the figures themselves – can be read in light of the Trickster archetype.

In order to carry out this analysis, I shall use Hermes’ appearance in his Homeric Hymn as a model, and as such I shall first briefly discuss his depiction in this text, before applying this reading to the motifs of disguise or concealed identity which feature in the shapeshifting episodes of Proteus, Dionysus and Mestra. I shall then move on to the juxtaposition of deceit and truthfulness in order to discuss the apparent contradiction in Proteus and how this may also be applied to Thetis. Lastly, I shall discuss Plato’s comments on shapeshifting deities and the attitudes which this suggests about later interpretations of Proteus and the impact of fluidity of shape.

a. Hermes as Trickster

In the Homeric Hymn to Hermes the young god embarks on a series of deceptions which show him embodying the Trickster archetype and illustrate the discrepancy

526 h.Merc. 73-8; Od. 9.462-6.

128 between his appearance and the reality of his abilities.527 Following the theft of Apollo’s cattle, Hermes attempts to manipulate Apollo by emphasising his youth:

κύδιμος Ἑρμῆς· σπάργανον ἀμφ᾽ ὤμοις εἰλυμένος, ἠύτε τέκνον νήπιον, ἐν παλάμῃσι περ᾽ ἰγνύσι λαῖφος ἀθύρων κεῖτο, χέλυν ἐρατὴν ἐπ᾽ ἀριστερὰ χειρὸς ἐέργων. […] οὐκ ἐμὸν ἔργον τοῦτο, πάρος δέ μοι ἄλλα μέμηλεν· ὕπνος ἐμοί γε μέμηλε καὶ ἡμετέρης γάλα μητρὸς 528

The disparity between Hermes’ appearance and the reality – or, rather, between the outward appearance (that of a child) and the reality of Hermes’ abilities (as a god) – recalls Proteus’ uncertain identity, in terms of his position in the narrative between a god and a liminal sea ‘monster’ encountered by a hero during his nostos.529

While a distinction must be made between transformation and disguise, these motifs do not always occur independently of one another. Proteus, for example, quickly sheds his role as a ‘seal-herd’ in favour of becoming a lion when attacked by Menelaus,530 and Menelaus himself must take on the disguise (in itself a form of transformation) of a sealskin in order to trap the sea-god. This act of disguising oneself is also central to Dionysus’ transformation episode, as the god first appears on the headland ‘seeming like a young man’ (νεηνίῃ ἀνδρὶ ἐοικώς).531 In scenes concerning the appearance of a god in the Homeric works, the use of ἐοικώς with the dative often indicates a disguise, and certainly Dionysus’ appearance as a young man in his Hymn must be understood as such.532 We may compare Demeter’s appearance to the family of Celeus and Metaneira in her

527 For more on the Hymn, see Richardson (2010). 528 h.Merc. 150-153, 266-7. 529 Proteus does not lend himself immediately to classification: he is not an Olympian god, but rather a lesser god and servant of Poseidon: West (1988) ad 1.385-6 comments that ἀθάνατος is not used idly but serves a necessary confirmation of Proteus’ immortality which would not otherwise be assured. Narratively, Proteus appears in parallel to Polyphemus, and thus is cast into the role of a monster, despite being a sea-god. Plass (1969) 105 calls Proteus a ‘magician,’ while as Forbes Irving (1990) 175 notes, visual representations of ‘The Old Man of the Sea’ often depict a hybrid merman. Cf. Hopman (2012) 97. 530 See chapter 1.2.ii.a. 531 h.Bacch. 3. 532 See, e.g. Il. 2.20, 5.604, 17.323, Od. 10.278. Jaillard (2011) 140 reads this appearance as deceptive, and central to the issues of perception which are crucial to the hymn.

129 Homeric Hymn, where the goddess is described as γρηὶ παλαιγενέι ἐναλίγκιος,533 and a similar misidentification of a divinity as a mortal follows. Dionysus’ intent to give a misleading impression and conceal his identity is further indicated by his willingness to be caught, after which he punishes his captors.534 Both Dionysus and Hermes manipulate their physical appearance in order to deceive others; as with Hermes in the Homeric Hymn, the disparity here between Dionysus’ appearance to mortals and the reality of his powers (manifested in his transformation and the subsequent transformation of the pirates) appears as a kind of ‘trick’. Similarly to the Proteus and Menelaus episode of Odyssey 4, therefore, Dionysus’ shapeshifting episode is precipitated by an act of disguise.

The association of shapeshifting with deception or trickery also appears in the account of Mestra present in a scholion to Lycophron 1393a (= Hes. Cat. fr.43b M-W).535 In this narrative, Mestra’s powers are attributed to her being a witch (φαρμακίς), and she is used by her father as a means of satisfying his perpetual hunger (ταύτην εἶχε μέθοδον τῆς λιμοῦ ὁ πατήρ). In this instance, while the trick (of Mestra repeatedly being married off in order to receive gifts) is essential to the narrative, it is not for Mestra’s benefit or necessarily of her own independent initiative but is orchestrated by Erysichthon and benefits him (ἐκ τούτων ἐτρέφετο). This is an essential distinction from other narratives of shapeshifting and trickery, as Mestra’s agency is to some extent lessened. However, the escape using her powers is entirely her own: ἣ δὲ πάλιν ἀμείβουσα τὸ εἶδος φεύγουσα, and her agency regarding her transformative powers is unaffected. Lycophron’s reference to Mestra, however, is more explicit in its attribution of trickery to the shapeshifter, rather than to her father. In the Alexandra, Mestra is described as a παντόμορφη λάμπουρις βασσάρα who healed (ἀλθαίνεσκεν) her father’s hunger.536 The description of Mestra as a fox (βασσάρα) suggests her cunning nature,537 and thus links her to the Trickster archetype. In each account, the transformative powers which allow a person or deity to assume a variety of shapes before returning to their original appearance is used in an act of deception.

533 h.Cer. 101. 534 Indicated by the god’s smile, Jaillard (2011) 141. 535 Hes. fr.43b M-W. 536 Lyc. 1393-5. This links Mestra to Thetis: S. fr.618 Radt, παντομόρφῃ Θέτιδι. 537 LSJ s.v. ἀλώπηξ, A: ‘used of sly persons’.

130 Disguising or concealing one’s appearance, however, is not the only way in which shapeshifting figures cross the boundary into the realm of the Trickster. One aspect of Hermes’ depiction in the Homeric Hymn is his knowledge and inventiveness; he not only steals Apollo’s cattle but invents a means to escape detection,538 as well as inventing fire,539 apportioning a sacrificial lot to himself, and creating his lyre, through which he ensures his place among the Olympians.540 The association with fire additionally links Hermes to Prometheus, who is similarly characterised by his preoccupation with concealment and deception,541 and to Hephaestus who, while not a Trickster as such, is able to use his inventive skills to trap Aphrodite and Ares.542 Likewise, Proteus’ knowledge is essential to his interaction with Menelaus in the Odyssey: Menelaus’ first address to Proteus, which begins emphatically with the word οἶσθα, reiterates the purpose of his attack on the god and simultaneously stresses the characterisation of Proteus as all-knowing. Proteus, so Eidothea tells Menelaus, ‘knows the depths of every sea’ (θαλάσσης / πάσης βένθεα οἶδε).543 We may take Eidothea’s statement literally: Proteus, a sea deity, naturally knows his realm. However, βένθεα refers not simply to the sea as sailors would know it, but the usually hidden side of this environment, and may carry connotations of murky concealment.544 Therefore, we may understand these depths as referring metaphorically to hidden, inaccessible knowledge more generally. Indeed, the information Proteus gives to Menelaus is of the sort which is not usually given to mortals; the sea deity thus provides a bridge between Menelaus and the Olympians. With nowhere to turn, Menelaus must consult Proteus, an ‘all-knowing’ being, in order to complete his nostos.

Menelaus’ accusation of Proteus finds a parallel in Achilles’ address to Thetis in Iliad 1, as the hero relates his grievance to his mother:

538 h.Merc. 76-8: he leads the cattle backwards and thus reverses their footprints. Cf. Cacus at Verg. Aen. 8.209-12. Richardson (2010) 166 notes that the language used to describe this trick is complex and repetitive, ‘mirroring the ingenuity of [Hermes’] stratagem’. 539 A common motif in Trickster myths: Rickets (1966), Koepping (1985) 204-7. 540 Richardson (2010) 175-7 discusses this allocation as an aetiology for the cult of the Twelve Olympians and suggests that it ‘may be significant’ that Hermes is first referred to as a δαίμων (138) after this ritual. 541 Hes. Th. 535-41, cf. Erg. 47-52. 542 Od. 8.272-81ff. Cf. Hephaestus’ role in Pandora’s creation, Hes. Erg. 60-63. 543 Od. 4.385-6. The same phrase is used of Atlas at 1.52-3, West (1988) ad 1.385-6. 544 DGE s.v. βένθος. A. fr.237a, for example, refers to the βένθος ἀμα̣ υρόν, the ‘dark depths’, while Stesichorus (Fr. S17) describes a journey into the ‘murky depths of night’ (ἱαρᾶς ποτὶ βένθεα νυκτὸς ἐρεμνᾶς).

131 τὴν δὲ βαρὺ στενάχων προσέφη πόδας ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεύς· οἶσθα· τί ἤ τοι ταῦτα ἰδυίῃ πάντ᾽ ἀγορεύω;545

Again, this address to a shapeshifting sea-deity begins with the word οἶσθα, and Thetis’ broad knowledge is again immediately brought to the fore; she knows everything (ἰδυίῃ πάντ᾽), and thus Achilles does not need to relate his sufferings (although, of course, he proceeds to do just that). That her knowledge surpasses the limits of human intelligence is further shown in mentions of the prophecy surrounding Achilles’ fate as a warrior.546

A Trickster’s knowledge and intelligence are, of course, essential to their ability to manipulate and trick others; mastery of speech is essential to Hermes’ tricks in the Hymn. Although Hermes readily employs disguise and carefully manipulates his language in order to conceal the truth, even he does not lie in his oath before Zeus (a transgression for which even he may not escape punishment),547 but rather much of what he says is technically true (for instance, that he did not cross the threshold). There is, after all, no requirement for the Trickster to lie at all times. Similarly, while Proteus employs his ‘trick’ in order to evade capture, the absolute truthfulness of his account when captured is essential to his role in the narrative of the Odyssey. The adjective νημερτής, ‘infallible’ or ‘unerring’, is used five times to describe Proteus in the Odyssey as part of the formulaic epithet γέρων ἅλιος νημερτής.548 This adjective, which is fairly common in the poem, particularly in requests for truthful information or in vows of truthfulness,549 therefore emphasises Proteus’ inherent reliability and reflects the surety of the information he is able to provide. This again foregrounds the purpose of Menelaus’ attempt to overcome the deity, that is, to receive reliable advice.

Despite this apparent surety, Proteus further attempts to evade answering Menelaus’ questions and the hero accuses Proteus of trying to turn him away from his enquiry (τί με ταῦτα παρατροπέων ἐρεείνεις;).550 Menelaus’ use of παρατροπέω here is clearly metaphorical, ‘mislead’ rather than literally turning

545 Il. 1.364-5. 546 Il. 9.410-16. 547 And which carries serious connotations: see 2.2.i. 548 This epithet phrase is not found in full outside the Homeric works until the 2nd century AD (TLG s.v.v. γέρων ἅλιος νημερτής, 6) and thus seems to have been exclusive to Proteus in Greek thought for many centuries. 549 E.g. Od. 4.642, 12.112, 15.263, 22.166, 23.35. 550 Od. 4.465.

132 away, yet as Menelaus’ enquiry is directly related to his nostos, this recalls Odysseus’ own homeward journey, from which he is repeatedly turned away.551 This serves to remind the audience of the importance of Proteus’ information to Menelaus: without it, he will not return home. This rebuke also firmly characterises Proteus as a Trickster; the motif of concealing a path is also found in Hermes theft of Apollo’s cattle in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes.552

The description of Hermes’ trick in the Hymn (ἴχνι᾽ ἀποστρέψας· δολίης δ᾽ οὐ λήθετο τέχνης, 76) is mirrored in descriptions of Proteus’ abilities in the Odyssey and, as will be discussed in chapter 3.1, those of Odysseus. On being captured, Proteus ‘did not forget his crafty skills’ (οὐδ᾽ ὁ γέρων δολίης ἐπελήθετο τέχνης) but began his transformation sequence:553 this is the vocabulary of trickery and deceit.554 However, Proteus is not only characterised as ‘tricky’ by possessing this δόλια τέχνη: the sea-god is also twice described as possessing ὀλοφώια.555 In later authors, ὀλοφώϊος may carry connotations of deadly force, yet as Proteus’ transformations (though apparently dangerous) seem intended rather to force the attacker to let go, this does not seem to be the case here.556 West suggests a reading of ‘tricky, deceptive’ in place of connotations of destruction,557 yet the word nonetheless certainly carries an implication of danger. The word appears only four times in Homer, twice to describe Proteus’ tricks, once to describe Circe’s, and once in Melantheus’ insults to Eumaeus in Book 17.558 That these tricks are potentially dangerous is evidenced by the fact that Eidothea must warn Menelaus of Proteus’ ὀλοφώια if the hero is to be successful, just as Hermes must warn Odysseus of Circe’s abilities in Book 10, using a phrase which bears a strong resemblance to Eidothea’s warning to Menelaus: πάντα δέ τοι ἐρέω ὀλοφώια δήνεα Κίρκης.559 Proteus' tricks, therefore, are not the playful actions of the young Hermes in his Hymn, but carry the potential for real danger.

551 Cf. Od. 1.1: πολύτροπος. 552 h.Merc. 73-8; see n.535. 553 Od. 4.455. Richardson (2010) 166 notes the similarity between this line and that describing Hermes’ trick, and additionally Hesiod’s description of Prometheus, Th. 547. 554 Pucci (1987) 59. 555 Od. 4.410, 460. 556 Cf. Theoc. 25.185: ἀλλ’ ἄρκτους τε σύας τε λύκων τ’ ὀλοφώιον ἔθνος, LSJ s.v. ὀλοφώϊος. 557 West (1988) ad 4.410. 558 Od. 10.289 (Circe); 17.248 (Eumaeus). 559 Od. 10.289; cf. 4.410: πάντα δέ τοι ἐρέω ὀλοφώια τοῖο γέροντος.

133 For Thetis, the association with trickery and deception is less noticeable in her characterisation (particularly as, in the Iliad, her transformation sequence does not feature). However, her reliability and trustworthiness are questioned and she appears at times to be viewed by other characters as an ambivalent figure. Hera’s suspicion of Thetis is depicted in Book 1, as she expresses concern that the sea- goddess may have won over Zeus’ mind (κατὰ φρένα).560 This suspicion may be a consequence of Thetis’ separation from the Olympian deities as a result of her living in the sea, as discussed above, but for Hera in particular there is a further ambivalence to her relationship with Thetis. It was Thetis, of course, who in the mythic past of the Iliad derailed Hera’s, Athene’s and Poseidon’s plot to overthrow Zeus by freeing him and recruiting Briareus in support; Thetis also rescues Hephaestus – a cause of shame for Hera – when he falls into the sea, and becomes a quasi-mother figure through this, as I discuss in more depth below, chapter 3.2. Despite this, Hera states that she raised Thetis herself and, in both the Iliad and the Argonautica, that she chose Peleus as Thetis’ husband.561

Additionally, while Achilles’ relationship with Thetis is largely positive, he too expresses a view of his mother as a deceptive figure when fighting Scamander:

ἄλλος δ᾽ οὔ τις μοι τόσον αἴτιος Οὐρανιώνων, ἀλλὰ φίλη μήτηρ, ἥ με ψεύδεσσιν ἔθελγεν562

While this does not affect Thetis’ overall characterisation in the epic, it nonetheless provides another ambivalent characterisation and one which links her to Proteus – as an all-knowing being, Thetis is beyond the scope of humanity and thus to some extent suspect.

b. Plato’s γόης

Finally, I wish to end the exploration of this theme with a consideration of Plato’s discussion of the shapeshifting god or γόης in his Republic,563 as this demonstrates

560 Il. 1.555-6. 561 Il. 24.59-61, cf. A.R. 4.790-2, 805-7. This is linked to an alternative tradition in which Thetis rejected Zeus’ advances out of loyalty to Hera (4.793-7). 562 Il. 21.275-6. 563 For discussion of Plato’s use of myth and relationship to Homer, see Hunter (2012), cf. Segal (1978) and Mueller (1936).

134 an essential understanding of shapeshifters as tricksters. During Socrates’ rejection of false tales (μύθους…ψευδεῖς), there features a discussion on the nature of a shapeshifting god, the introductory part of which I give here:

Τί δὲ δὴ ὁ δεύτερος ὅδε; ἆρα γόητα τὸν θεὸν οἴει εἶναι καὶ οἷον ἐξ ἐπιβουλῆς φαντάζεσθαι ἄλλοτε ἐν ἄλλαις ἰδέαις τοτὲ μὲν αὐτὸν γιγνόμενον, [καὶ] ἀλλάττοντα τὸ αὑτοῦ εἶδος εἰς πολλὰς μορφάς, τοτὲ δὲ ἡμᾶς ἀπατῶντα καὶ ποιοῦντα περὶ αὑτοῦ τοιαῦτα δοκεῖν, ἢ ἁπλοῦν τε εἶναι καὶ / πάντων ἥκιστα τῆς ἑαυτοῦ ἰδέας ἐκβαίνειν;564

Plato presents Socrates rejecting tales of shapeshifting gods who appear in many shapes (ἀλλάττοντα τὸ αὑτοῦ εἶδος εἰς πολλὰς μορφάς) on two main counts: first, by asserting that only forms which are less than perfect could be subject to change:

Ἀδύνατον ἄρα, ἔφην, καὶ θεῷ ἐθέλειν αὑτὸν ἀλλοιοῦν, ἀλλ’ ὡς ἔοικε, κάλλιστος καὶ ἄριστος ὢν εἰς τὸ δυνατὸν ἕκαστος αὐτῶν μένει ἀεὶ ἁπλῶς ἐν τῇ αὑτοῦ μορφῇ,565 and, secondly, by arguing that if this change does not result from imperfection, it must be a form of deception.566 Plato’s Republic is concerned with antitheses,567 and as such it is natural that in response to mortals (who can improve and thereby become ‘better’) there must be an embodiment of ‘good’ (ὁ θεός, ἐπειδὴ ἀγαθός) which cannot be improved upon and thus cannot change.568

For Plato’s Socrates, it seems, there is something inherently negative and deceitful about altering one’s shape; by calling this shapeshifting god a ‘wizard’ (γόητα τὸν θεὸν), Plato questions the very nature of such a being and rejects it in favour of a god who is ‘perfect’ and wholly truthful. The Republic does not necessarily entail a rejection of shapeshifters alone, but rather of the multitude of gods and actions presented in the Homeric works, yet shapeshifters such as Proteus appear to be the particular focus of Plato’s discussion. Segal argues that Plato’s description of the transformations of men detailed in the Republic is supported by the various people encountered by Odysseus in Books 9-12 of the Odyssey, in particular Circe with her propensity for transforming others, and the

564 Pl. Rep. 380d. 565 Pl. Rep. 381c. 566 Pl. Rep. 383a. 567 E.g. Pl. Rep. 411a, 493b-c. Mueller (1936) 465, Segal (1978) 332. 568 Pl. Rep. 379c. Mueller (1936) 468, Segal (1978) 331.

135 cannibalistic habits of Polyphemus and the Laestrygonians.569 Certainly behind Plato’s descriptions of multi-formed gods we can clearly see Proteus and Thetis, since he states explicitly that he wishes that no one should lie about Proteus and Thetis in particular: μηδὲ Πρωτέως καὶ Θέτιδος καταψευδέσθω μηδείς.570 We might also identify Dionysus in Plato’s description, as the Bacchic spectacle which occurs on the pirate ship in the Homeric Hymn and Dionysus’ creation of the dionysiac universe during his epiphany may very well be described as deceptive and enchanting (ἐξαπατῶντες καὶ γοητεύοντες).571 After all, this very encounter depends on the success of Dionysus’ ambiguous and deceptive appearance as a young man in the opening lines of the poem.

iii. Weaknesses of ambiguous form

‘In every confrontation ... success can be won by two means, either thanks to a superiority in “power” ... or by the use of methods of a different order whose effect is, precisely, to reverse the natural outcome of the encounter and to allow victory to fall to the party whose defeat had appeared inevitable’572

For all their abilities and the danger they pose to mortals, many of our shapeshifters exist in their narratives to be defeated. Against shapeshifters, whose strength in cunning and metis result in their extraordinary transformative powers, defeat is typically effected not through superiority of strength but by the second of Detienne and Vernant’s methods above, and results precisely in a reversal of the situation, as the fluid character encountered becomes – at least temporarily – fixed in place. As explored, the process of shapeshifting is typically presented as a means of escaping capture, whether physical, such as Menelaus’ defeat of Proteus, metaphorical, as we find in Mestra’s escape from her serial marriages, or a combination of both, as is the case of Thetis grasped by Peleus, who is physically restrained and, eventually (temporarily) socially restrained in becoming his wife. For Thetis and Nemesis, shapeshifting is explicitly a form of resistance or self- defence when attacked or threatened with rape by a male character. As a nymph,

569 Segal (1978) 332. 570 Pl. Rep. 381d. 571 Pl. Rep. 381e; Jaillard (2011) 34. 572 Detienne and Vernant (1978) 13.

136 Thetis may in any case be at risk of rape by a mortal or another deity,573 and, in contrast to Proteus’ habits and transformations allowing Menelaus a means of wrestling with him, her transformations allow her a means of defending herself, albeit one which fails. Thetis is at risk in her myth primarily because of her status as a challenger to Zeus’ order, a threat which must be neutralised in order to maintain the Olympian’s reign. In fact, Thetis’ main vulnerability in her myths is her relationship to Achilles, and her inability to act to save her son, a relationship which is directly related to her cosmically challenging status and role as a shapeshifter.574 We may draw a parallel here with Nemesis, whose shapeshifting in an attempt to evade Zeus lends her a form of autonomy and action denied to passive characters such as Io, Europa, and Danae, or even deities such as Persephone, who are unable to resist rape or abduction by a male god. In Nemesis’ myth, Zeus’ typical recourse of transforming himself or others is turned against him, but the god is nonetheless able to overcome Nemesis’ attempts and in fact manipulates her shapeshifting, transforming himself into a goose or a swan.575 Manipulated in this way, Nemesis’ shapeshifting may be read as a form of vulnerability; I shall now explore this theme in depictions of other shapeshifters.

For some shapeshifters the very act of transforming repeatedly is one which identifies the character in question as one who can be overcome, as their quick changes of shape form their self-defence and paradoxically allow for mortals to approach them, as Françoise Frontisi-Ducroux writes,

la métamorphose… fait leur force et parfois leur vulnérabilité. Leur essence métamorphique… est aussi ce qui prédispose ces divinités à accepter ou à subir le contact avec les mortels.576

It may therefore be difficult for mortals to overcome gods, as Eidothea tells Menelaus (ἀργαλέος γάρ τ᾽ ἐστὶ θεὸς βροτῷ ἀνδρὶ δαμῆναι, Od. 4.397), but it is certainly not impossible if the god in question is a shapeshifter. The phrasing of Eidothea’s comment here is striking precisely because it allows for the possibility

573 Larson (2001) 42 notes that Maenads are similarly characterised as sexually vulnerable, a connection made in E. Hipp. 545-53 in the Chorus’ description of Iole: δρομάδα ναΐδ᾽ ὅπως τε βάκ-/χαν. The same is true of mortal women, e.g. Danae. See Larson (2001) 73-4 on the portrayal of sex as a reward for not cutting down a Hamadryad’s tree. 574 On this, see Slatkin (1991) passim. 575 Cypr. fr.11. 576 Frontisi-Ducroux (2003) 52, cf. Aston (2011) 166.

137 of confronting a god. While, as discussed above, there are instances in which mortals overpower or harm gods detailed in the Iliad, the typical balance is one in which the more powerful figure completely overwhelms the weaker, as Achilles does to his Trojan opponents,577 before unwisely attempting to fight an even more powerful figure in the form of the River Scamander, and being threatened with death himself since, as the narrator states, θεοὶ δέ τε φέρτεροι ἀνδρῶν.578 Achilles, of course, is in a privileged position and is rescued by Hephaestus;579 for other mortals, even meeting a god may mean death or metamorphosis.580 In Pindar’s Nemean 10, for instance, the poet describes attempts by mortals to fight the Dioscuri: χαλεπὰ δ᾽ ἔρις ἀνθρώποις ὁμιλεῖν κρεσσόνων.581 Here the issue is framed around the weaker mortals and presents even meeting with those more powerful (κρεσσόνων) as a difficult and potentially life-threatening event.582 A further parallel, which comes close to Eidothea’s statement in its martial language, is found in Theocritus’ Idylls:

Οὕτω Τυνδαρίδαις πολεμιζέμεν οὐκ ἐν ἐλαφρῷ· αὐτοί τε κρατέουσι καὶ ἐκ κρατέοντος ἔφυσαν.583

Again, however, the emphasis is on the (near) impossibility of this for mortals and the statement follows the deaths of Lynceus and Idas in the attempt. Eidothea’s statement, then, signals an unusual situation contrary to the audience’s typical understanding of divine-mortal encounters and emphasises her role in advising

577 E.g. Il. 21.209-13. 578 Il. 21.264; cf. 21.315-6: although Achilles’ rage (μέμονεν) is equal to the gods, his βίη is insufficient. However, Nagy (1979) 320-1 suggests that Achilles’ βίη parallels that of Hephaestus, manifested in the god’s fire which overwhelms the river. This serves as a stark reminder of the potential of Achilles’ birth, as had he been the son of Zeus or Poseidon, he would have been stronger than either (φέρτερον πατέρος, Pi. I. 8.32; this passage echoes the description of Metis’ potential cosmically threatening child at Hes. fr.343 M-W: κρατερώτερον ἄλλο κεραυνοῦ. The connection is further strengthened by Pindar’s mention of Thetis’ would-be child’s weapon at I. 8.34, κεραυνοῦ τε κρέσσον ἄλλο βέλος). This is further linked intratexually in the Iliad to Thetis’ recruitment of Briareus to assist her in freeing Zeus, as the Hundred- Hander is described as ‘stronger than his father’ (ὃ γὰρ αὖτε βίην οὗ πατρὸς ἀμείνων, 1.404). On this, see Nagy (1979) 346-7, who notes Briareus/Aegaeon’s connection to the sea and describes him as ‘a sort of nightmarish variant of Achilles.’ 579 Il. 21.342ff. 580 See chapter 1.1. 581 Pi. N. 10.72. 582 The potential danger of meeting a god also applies to male mortals who sleep with goddesses, as Hermes warns Odysseus (Od. 10.299-301) that he must take care that Circe does not make him ‘unmanly’ (ἀνήνορα). This fear also is echoed by Anchises in h.Ven. 189-90: ἐπεὶ οὐ βιοθάλμιος ἀνὴρ / γίγνεται, ὅς τε θεαῖς εὐνάζεται ἀθανάτῃσι. See Larson (2001) 81. 583 Theoc. 22.212.

138 Menelaus, allowing for Proteus to be overpowered.584 The situation which unfolds is contrary to the expected power dynamic and one which relies on a number of factors, including Eidothea’s assistance and the god’s accessibility.585

It is not only gods whose shapeshifting marks them as potential victims of mortal aggressors, however, as the same is true of Metis and Periclymenus, whose shapeshifting episodes are marked by being outmanoeuvred by another trick, and whose defeat in shapeshifting results – to a greater or lesser extent – in a form of permanency.586 The weaknesses inherent to each shapeshifter’s narrative are essential to the character’s function in the story and further showcase the complexity of these characters, as I shall explore below.

a. Proteus

In this discussion, Proteus once again represents an ideal starting point. In the context of the Odyssey, Proteus’ self-transformations and the range of associations within these allow his episode to be intricately connected with the wider narrative, as discussed below, chapter 3.1. However, his behaviour and changes of shape distinguish him from other divine characters. Athene, for instance, acts unpredictably and tricks even Odysseus with her disguises, while Circe’s potions have a similarly unexpected effect on Odysseus’ men. With Circe, though, as with Proteus, the hero must be instructed as to how to overcome his supernatural adversary: Hermes knows Circe’s magic and thus can advise Odysseus on the best way to avoid its effects, just as Eidothea knows Proteus’ tricks and prewarns Menelaus, denying Proteus the element of surprise and allowing for the hero’s ambush. These instances of divinely given advice both rely on the certainty of the opponent behaving in a prescribed manner and it is this which allows for the

584 The presence of a helper-figure is essential to such encounters; Eidothea is paralleled in this role by Chiron for Peleus (Pi. I. 8.41-3) and the nymphs for Heracles: see Frontisi-Ducroux (2003) 48. 585 We might compare abductions of (mortal) male characters by female nymphs, e.g. Hylas at A.R. 1.1221-39, which, Larson (2001) 66 suggests, adheres to our expectations in the overpowering of a mortal by a divine figure and simultaneously reverses expectations in the triumph of a female character over a male. 586 Detienne and Vernant (1978) 111-12.

139 mortal aggressor to ambush them, and the episodes thus parallel one another through the shared themes of divine aid and transformation.

There is a further layer to the inherent weakness of Proteus’ shapeshifting, however. Not only does Proteus always react in the same manner, but he is required by his role as a seal-herd to leave the safety of the sea and visit the caves, a location accessible to mortals, as Frontisi-Ducroux notes,587 although – as noted above – entering this location requires some transformation on Menelaus’ part. These visits, moreover, occur at prescribed times; the certainty of his visits to land is tied to this regularity, as the shapeshifter appears everyday at midday, emphasised by the use of ἦμος and τῆμος at the beginning of the following verses:

ἦμος δ᾽ ἠέλιος μέσον οὐρανὸν ἀμφιβεβήκῃ, τῆμος ἄρ᾽ ἐξ ἁλὸς εἶσι γέρων ἅλιος νημερτὴς πνοιῇ ὕπο Ζεφύροιο μελαίνῃ φρικὶ καλυφθείς588

In fact, this regularity points to a link between Proteus and Odysseus’ monstrous adversaries of Book 12, Scylla and Charybdis. These indomitable forces similarly appear according to a strict schedule: Scylla snatches six men from any passing ship without fail, while Charybdis’ whirlpool drags down unfortunate ships three times a day.589 This connection suggests Proteus’ potential monstrosity, since regularity of both time and place are common characteristics of monsters, as I shall explore in more detail in the next chapter. While this regularity is not a downfall of Scylla or Charybdis, since it emphasises Charybdis’ status as effectively a feature of the dangerous landscape and Scylla’s irresistible aggression, the same is not true of Proteus, who appears as a comparatively lesser threat. Despite the unpredictability of his changed forms, several essential aspects of Proteus’ shapeshifting – the journey to land at a fixed time, his sleep,590 and the transformations themselves – allow for Menelaus’ and Eidothea’s ambush to be realised and successfully carried out.

587 Frontisi-Ducroux (2003) 51: ‘leur mode de vie amphibie … rend accessibles aux humains.’ Cf. Aston (2011) 588 Od. 4.400-2. 589 Od. 12.98-100 (Scylla), 105-6 (Charybdis). 590 As Detienne and Vernant (1978) 114 note, Proteus’ sleep is an essential component of Menelaus’ ambush, since it allows the hero an opening when Proteus’ cunning (metis) is absent.

140 b. Metis and Periclymenus

Unlike Proteus, whose capture relies on the exhaustion of his transformation sequence, Metis, Periclymenus, and Nemesis are captured or overcome during their transformations, and their defeat relies upon the shapeshifter assuming a specific shape. The Hesiodic Metis, whose essence is one of cunning,591 manifested, in scholion to Theogony 886, in her shapeshifting, not only allows Zeus to swallow the Oceanid (thus following his father’s example) but also to assume her metis, and therefore provides the means for Zeus to prevent future successions.592 The description of Metis’ shapeshifting in Σ Th. 886 explains how Zeus manages to exploit Metis’ abilities in order to defeat her: πλανήσας οὖν / αὐτὴν ὁ Ζεὺς καὶ μικρὰν ποιήσας κατέπιεν.593 Zeus’ capture requires deception in itself, but Metis’ ability to transform herself is central to her downfall; as Detienne and Vernant note, ‘Zeus masters Metis by turning her own weapons against herself.’594

We can draw a direct parallel here with Periclymenus, somewhat an outlier in the group of shapeshifters, who is killed while in the form of a bee595 on the battlefield due to Athene’s intervention, as we learn from a scholion to the Iliad:

καὶ δὴ γενόμενον αὐτὸν μέλισσαν καὶ στάντα ἐπὶ τοῦ Ἡρακλέους ἅρματος Ἀθηνᾶ δείξασα Ἡρακλεῖ ἐποίησεν ἀναιρεθῆναι. . .ἱστορεῖ Ἡσίοδος ἐν Καταλόγοις.596

Just as Metis represented a dangerous threat to Zeus’ rule and thus to the world order of the Theogony, the mortal Periclymenus acts as a seemingly unconquerable force on the battlefield:

πολέας δ᾽ ἀπόλεσσε καὶ ἄλλους μαρνάμενος Νηλῆος ἀγακλειτοῦ περὶ τεῖχος

591 Hes. Th. 887, cf. Hes. fr.343.6 M-W: πολύιδριν. 592 As Clay (2003) 18 notes, prior to Zeus’ consumption of Metis, the distinction between male bie and female metis was only partially bridged by figures such as Prometheus and Chronos who are described as ἀγκυλομήτης and make limited use of cunning. 593 Σ Hes. Th. 886. Although the shapeshifting sequence is absent from the Theogony, there is nonetheless an echo of the kind of wrestling-match we find in Proteus’ myth in Hes. fr.343.7 M- W, as the physicality of Zeus’ actions is made explicit: συμμάρψας…χερσὶν (cf. Il. 10.467). 594 Detienne and Vernant (1978) 21. In turning Metis’ own central characteristic against her and assuming this into himself, Zeus in a sense combines the typical outcome of capturing a female shapeshifter, marriage (although here this precedes the shapeshifting), with that associated with a male shapeshifter, knowledge. See Frontisi-Ducroux (2003) 51. 595 Frontisi-Ducroux (2003) 37-8 notes this parallel: ‘L’analogue avec Métis réside … dans le fait que la créature métamorphique succombe sous la plus minuscule de ses formes. 596 Hes. Cat. fr.33b M-W = ΣIl. 2.336.

141 ο[ὗ] πατρός, πολέας δὲ μελαίνηι κηρὶ πέλασσε κ]τ̣ είνων.597

In this case, as we learn from fr.33a M-W of the Catalogue of Women, the shapeshifter is tricked by his own gifts:

εἶχε δὲ δῶρα παντ⌋οῖ᾽ οὐκ ὀνομαστά, τά μιν καὶ ἔπειτα δόλωσε β⌊ο⌋υλ⌊ῆι⌋ Ἀθηναίης·598

Athene’s role in this trick is of course of great importance, but it is notable that she uses the shapeshifter’s ‘gifts’ against him. Unlike Metis, however, whose crafty knowledge is maintained even after her death, Periclymenus’ intelligence is undermined as he is described as foolish (νήπιος) in attempting to stop Heracles’ chariot.599

Mestra and Dionysus here prove distinct, as neither can be said particularly to have a weakness inherent to their ambiguous or transformed forms. Shapeshifting does not play a part in Poseidon’s rape of Mestra, although the interaction of a god with a less powerful, shapeshifting woman does resemble Zeus’ defeat of Metis, and although in variants in which Mestra is repeatedly sold by her father she may appear to have little agency, her return to care for Erysichthon in fact suggests the opposite. It is noteworthy that of her victims, only Sisyphus appears able to understand what has happened, but even he is unsuccessful in undoing the result of her shapeshifting.600 Dionysus’ changed appearance in his Homeric Hymn is purely aggressive and acts to scare the unprepared pirates; similarly, his disguised appearance in the Bacchae, his transformation of the citizens of Thebes, and his manipulation of Pentheus’ appearance all effect recognition of his status as a god. Both Mestra and Dionysus use their shapeshifting in order to deceive or overcome another, less powerful adversary; unlike Proteus,

597 Hes. Cat. fr.33a.19-22 M-W. Cf. Cat. fr.35 M-W which further emphasises Periclymenus’ might on the battlefield (ὄφρα μὲν οὖν ἔζ]ωε Περικλύ[μ]ενος θε[ο]ειδής, / οὐκ ἐδύναντο Πύ]λον πραθέειν μάλα περ μεμαῶτες). 598 Hes. Cat. fr.33a.17-19 M-W. 599 Hes. Cat. fr.33a.28 M-W. 600 This depends on the reading of Athene’s very fragmentary judgement at lines 60-72. As discussed above, chapter 1.1, it is my view that we must understand that the judgement goes against Sisyphus since not only does the poem concern Zeus’ refusal to grant Sisyphus grandchildren, see Rutherford (2005) 102, when Mestra is abducted by Poseidon in the next part of the text she is found at her father’s home, indicating that she has not returned with Sisyphus. Contra Ormand (2014) 95.

142 Thetis, Nemesis, or Metis, their shapeshifting is not a response to danger,601 but rather part of a plan. Periclymenus’ shapeshifting also features as an aggressive action, but can still be distinguished from Mestra’s and Dionysus’ as his opponent is Athene, a being far more powerful and better established as a Trickster, and thus the balance of power is against him.

Inherent weakness, while common, is not found in all shapeshifters, therefore; exploring this theme allows for new affiliations to emerge between the characters, as Metis and Periclymenus – while existing as polar opposites in the female/male and divine/mortal binaries – appear to parallel one another and present clear examples of reversal, as the clever shapeshifter is beaten at their own game by another’s cunning. Even in cases where the shapeshifter’s powers do not appear strictly to present an inherent vulnerability, such as the myths of Nemesis or Thetis, the shapeshifter cannot necessarily be overcome be brute force alone but must be defeated by exploitation of their own powers. It is Mestra and Dionysus who appear as the outliers here, and both are rendered comparatively more powerful and having greater agency as a result. Unlike Proteus or the other shapeshifters, their powers do not allow them to be undermined but rather ensure their continuing autonomy, a characteristic which is strongly denied to the other figures.

601 While Dionysus’ shapeshifting takes place in the context of being abducted and is a response to a physical binding, he remains fully in control of the situation and indeed has engineered it by his appearance on the cliff.

143 2.3 Shapeshifting and monstrosity i. Introduction: what makes a monster?

As supernatural beings functioning as opponents or obstacles for a hero to overcome, shapeshifters may fall into the realm of the monstrous, despite their initially anthropomorphic forms. Marcel Detienne makes this clear, calling the Odyssean Proteus ‘a kind of polymorphous monster, a terrifying opponent,’602 while Jasper Griffin refers to ‘the monstrousness of metamorphosis.’603 Proteus and other shapeshifters are certainly dangerous, as I have discussed throughout the thesis, and exist in a liminal state with uncertain and fluid identity and form. As a group, shapeshifters seem to exist on the boundaries of divinity and magic, benevolence and antagonism: following on from the thematic and structural readings above, this chapter will explore the broad characteristics of shapeshifters against those of mythical monsters, drawing comparisons between these groups of figures, and identifying connections across them. This comparative reading, similarly to that against folktales above, complements the material discussed thus far in the thesis in order to consider further the narrative role and function of shapeshifters in Greek poetry. Here, as with previous readings, it is my intention to consider both individual shapeshifters and wider patterns which emerge; as such, I shall draw on a wide survey of shapeshifting figures in this chapter. I shall make an exploration of the threat they pose to the mortal characters with whom they interact, which will help us to make sense of their antagonistic role and how this ties into their narrative function. In order to carry out this analysis, this chapter will bring together material from elsewhere in the thesis in light of this specific reading, allowing for evaluation of the overall narrative function of these figures.

First, however, we must consider what makes a monster in Greek literature.604 The term monster immediately brings to mind a large range of characters in Greek myth, creatures such as Scylla, Typhon, or the Nemean Lion, for

602 Detienne (1978) 20. 603 Griffin (1977) 41. 604 As Felton (2012) 103 writes, monsters are predominantly ‘culturally determined. Each culture has its own preoccupations and fears, its own definitions of “normal”.’ Characteristics which signify a monster naturally depend on the culture in which the monster exists and reflect specific anxieties and concerns; therefore, in order to make a meaningful analysis, this section will focus on Greek iterations of monsters and primarily upon those which exist in similar time periods and genres to that of the shapeshifters discussed.

144 example – however, there is no specific essential feature or set of features which immediately links them together as a group, as even their typical narrative positioning as the hostile opponent of a hero or protagonist605 is not always found, as I shall explore in this section. Instead, like shapeshifters, monsters merit a family resemblance approach, as a group of characters linked by a range of shared features.606 By applying this approach to the monsters of Greek myth, I shall showcase the parallels and possible overlapping features of these two families of characters. The purpose of this discussion is therefore to provide a re-evaluation of monsters, in which I consider both their appearance and how they are characterised within the narrative, in order to show that the distinction between appearance and reality which is central to the transformations of shapeshifters is similarly a feature of monsters and particularly applies to creatures such as Chiron or the Hundred-Handers, who seem to straddle the boundary between apparent antagonism and providing assistance. In order to explore these resemblances and thus provide the features against which we may compare shapeshifters, I shall first discuss some issues of terminology for monsters, before moving on to typical characteristics of appearance and behaviour.

There are several words which may denote a ‘monster’ in Greek, although there is variance within these terms and occurrences of the word do not always refer to a monster as we understand it today. The word πέλωρ (or τέλωρ, or more commonly πέλωρον607 in Hesiod) provides a useful starting point, however, as a word which is commonly used to describe those creatures which we might understand to be monsters. It describes the Gorgon in the Iliad;608 both Polyphemus and Scylla in the Odyssey;609 Echidna and twice Typhon battling with Zeus in the Theogony;610 Pytho and Apollo in dolphin form in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo;611 and Typhon and the Guardian snake of the Hesperides in the Argonautica.612 This last use, however, shows the flexibility in this term: it is the Hesperides themselves who describe the serpent in this way, as they tell the

605 Felton (2012) 103. 606 See Introduction i. 607 Used as a substantive, though cf. LSJ s.v. πέλωρον: it is properly the neuter of adjective πέλωρος. 608 Il. 5.742. 609 Od. 9.428; 12.87. 610 Hes. Th. 295; 845, 856. 611 h.Ap. 374, 401. See Chapter 1.3 for Apollo’s metamorphosis. 612 A.R. 2.39, 4.1440.

145 Argonauts that the creature, their guard-snake (φρουρὸν ὄφιν), was killed by Heracles, the most shameless (ὁ κύντατος) of men. The Hesperides, Aegle reports, have been deprived of their guardian, robbed of their apples and left with terrible grief (στυγερὸν…ἄχος):613 from their perspective, Heracles is the monster here, so πέλωρ as applied here to the snake must not been taken to signify ‘monster’ in the modern sense, but rather to describe the creature’s size and supernatural nature, without necessarily negative connotations. Similarly, the related adjective πελώριος/πέλωρος is used six times in the Theogony to refer to Gaia, apparently referring to her size, rather than indicating hostility.614

The term τέρας is even more varied in meaning, signifying a ‘sign, wonder, marvel, portent’, that which goes against the laws of nature, or a monster.615 The former meaning appears to describe signs from the gods, such as in Book 2 of the Iliad, where it appears to be synonymous with σῆμα.616 In this use it may be explicitly positive, such as Zeus’ sign of approval to Odysseus in Odyssey 21,617 or explicitly negative, as is the case in Odyssey 12.618 Although the word does appear in descriptions of monstrous sights in the Iliad, for instance that of the Gorgon’s head on Athena’s aegis and a serpent carried by an eagle which figures as an omen,619 the same phrasing is used on both occasions: Διὸς τέρας αἰγιόχοιο. Rather than being used to denote the ‘monster’ itself (as the LSJ suggests620) these uses are suggestive of the supernatural or divine nature of the thing described: the Gorgon’s head is a marker of aegis-bearing Zeus, the snake a sign of his divine will. In both instances, moreover, πέλωρ or πέλωρον is used earlier to signify the creature itself. The Gorgon’s head is that of a terrible monster (δεινοῖο πελώρου), the eagle clutches a blood-red, monstrous snake (φοινήεντα δράκοντα…πέλωρον). In the

613 A.R. 4.1432-49. 614 Hes. Th. 159, 173, 479, 505, 821, 858. Only at 821 is this in relation to her creation of Typhon and could therefore carry a sense closer to the connotations of English ‘monstrous’, related as it is to her role as challenger to Zeus’ order. 615 LSJ s.v. τέρας I and II. Aston (2014) 372-3. The two words may be etymologically related, see Beekes s.v. τέρας, and appear to have originally signified a sign or omen from the gods (cf. LSJ s.v. τέρας I), which was modified over time to indicate something monstrous, cf. Latin monstrum ‘divine omen’ from mostro/monstro ‘I show’. Lewis & Short s.v. monstrum. This shift over time is shown further in the Modern Greek meaning of the word which translates as ‘monster’. 616 Il. 2.324. LSJ s.v. σῆμα I.1. 617 Od. 21.415. 618 Od. 12.394. 619 Il. 5.742, 12.209. 620 LSJ s.v. τέρας II.

146 Iliad¸ therefore, we see πέλωρ and its cognates used to denote monsters themselves, while τέρας more often signals a divine sign or portent. πέλωρ, with its uses described above, is similarly preferred in Hesiod – of just two instances of τέρας in the Hesiodic corpus, only one is in the Theogony and is used there to describe Tartarus, rather than any being.621 Later, however, and across genres, the term is frequently used more straightforwardly to describe monsters or other wonders themselves, including Typhon, Io while transformed, and a giant, among others.622 The term is not restricted to supernatural creatures, as Plato additionally uses it to refer to ‘unnatural’ births (παρὰ φύσιν)623 and impossible situations.624

δράκων is a much more specific term but one which can nonetheless be used either as the word for a monster of snake form or comprise part of a monster, and which features almost ubiquitously in Greek myths as the hero’s opponent at some point in their quest. Daniel Ogden has made a comprehensive study of these creatures,625 so little remains to be said here, other than to note the expansive nature of the term, which ranges from (perhaps) ‘natural’ snakes (such as that carried by the eagle in Iliad 12, discussed above) to supernatural ones (such as those sent by Hera to kill the baby Heracles in Pindar’s Nemean 1),626 and to Typhon’s snake heads in Theogony (ἣν ἑκατὸν κεφαλαὶ ὄφιος, δεινοῖο δράκοντος).627 Specific terminology is by no means necessary to describe monstrous creatures, nor is it particularly common to their descriptions. The Calydonian boar, for instance, is simply described as a fierce boar in the Iliad, χλούνην σῦν ἄγριον ἀργιόδοντα,628 and by Bacchylides,629 while its supernatural origin is made clear in that it has been sent by Artemis. More generic terms are used elsewhere: Hera’s δράκοντες are also referred to as κνωδάλα in Pindar’s Nemean 1,630 as are the Erinyes of Aeschylus’ Eumenides (παντομισῆ κνώδαλα),631

621 Hes. Th. 744. The word also appears in fr.141.28 M-W denoting a sign from Zeus. 622 E.g. A. Pr. 352-3 (Typhon) and 832 of speaking oak trees; A. Supp. 570 (Io); E. Ba. 542 (Echion, a giant); S. Tr. 1098 of the Erymanthian boar; h.Ap. 302 (the snake that raised Typhon). 623 Pl. Cr. 393b-394a. 624 Pl. Ph. 101b. 625 Ogden (2013). 626 Pi. N. 1.40. 627 Hes. Th. 825. 628 Il. 9.539. 629 B. Ep. 5.105, 116. 630 Pi. N. 1.50. 631 A. Eu. 644.

147 an insult which emphasises their non-human attributes.632 The term θήρ (or φήρ) can be used in much the same way to refer to the Erymanthian Boar or the monstrous opponents of Heracles;633 similarly, χρῆμα can be used to describe extraordinary or monstrous creatures or occurrences, such as the ‘great beast of a boar’ (ὑὸς χρῆμα…μέγα) which attacks the Mysians in Book 1 of Herodotus’ Histories.634

While these terms can act as a kind of shorthand to signal such a creature, it is the characterisation and narrative roles and functions they embody which allow for monsters to be portrayed. Terminology is not always necessary, therefore, when a creature is established as a monster in the narrative (for instance if it functions as an opponent to Zeus or another god or hero) or if it is so widely featured in the literary and mythic tradition that it is recognisable simply by name (such as, for instance, Typhon or Scylla). With or without such labels, there are several features across the large range of such creatures in Greek myth which stand out as particularly notable and serve to allow the reader to understand these beings as monsters, with all the necessary expectations of characterisation and narrative function. Physical oddity is a common feature, though there is much variance between different monsters. Monsters are often hybrid creatures with an eclectic range of human and animal body parts; they frequently feature excessive number of limbs or heads; or even combine the two.635 Other monsters are characterised by huge size even if they have an otherwise recognisably natural form, or might combine this with an excess of limbs. Hesiod’s Hundred-Handers, for instance, are composed of a huge quantity of arms and heads,636 rendering them useful assistants to Zeus637 and at once both familiar and incompatible with human form; the Chimaera is a mix of three animals at once, with heads to match;638 while

632 κνώδαλον is used commonly of cattle or domestic animals (the term is used at Od. 17.317 to refer to Argos, at h.Merc. 118 to describe an ox), but can be used at least in the plural to refer to sea creatures (Alcm. fr.89: κνώδαλ’ ἐν βένθεσσι πορφυρέας ἁλός, discussed by Apollon. Lex.). 633 S. Tr. 1097; Pi. N. 1.63. 634 Hdt. 1.36.1. This term is by no means restricted to monsters but can be used to qualify a range of things, e.g. a storm at Hdt. 7.188.3 or the length of the night in Ar. Nu. 2: LSJ s.v. χρῆμα 2.III.a. 635 Felton (2012) esp. 103-4. 636 Hes. Th. 147-53; cf. West (1966) ad loc. 637 See West (1966) 209. 638 Hes. Th. 319-24. The Chimaera, named for the goat part of its body, is a mix of lion, snake and goat: the first two components require little explanation as an aggressive predator and a common feature of monsters in the Theogony (and elsewhere) respectively. The goat head seems out of place perhaps, as West (1966) 255 argues: ‘This central head, which gives the

148 Typhon’s chaotic appearance in the Theogony is matched by his cacophony of voices and is such that it is difficult to gain a clear picture of this monster’s appearance.639 Multiplicity of features also seems to have been a feature of monsters in poems of the Epic Cycle, as was the case, Pausanias tells us, with Pisander’s Hydra, where the number of heads is explicitly taken as a means of expressing the monster’s danger.640

In the Odyssey641 we find a similar picture in the presentation of Scylla, a monster with an excess of features designed to maximise the threat she presents to Odysseus’ nostos.642 Her anthropophagy ties into the theme of inverted hospitality central to Books 9-12, which is additionally central to Odysseus’ interaction with Polyphemus.643 This theme and the threat of anthropophagy also colour the encounter with the Laestrygonians, who, like Polyphemus, are characterised as monstrous both by their anthropophagy and their great size rather than any indication of hybridity (τὴν δὲ γυναῖκα / εὗρον, ὅσην τ᾽ ὄρεος κορυφήν).644 This raises another common feature of monsters – their hostility and the danger they represent to a hero’s quest (here Odysseus’ nostos) or life. Other monsters, the creature its name … also makes it the oddest and least satisfying of mythical monsters.’ However, strangeness or oddity should not be seen as a failing in making a monster; indeed, these creatures should be incomprehensible and unusual in order to have an appeal. We might compare Typhon’s puppy-like voice (ἄλλοτε δ᾽ αὖ σκυλάκεσσιν ἐοικότα, 834) amidst his scarier attributes, in itself not threatening or dangerous but designed (perhaps) to add to the monster’s overall assault on the senses (West (1966) ad loc. has no argument with this aspect in Typhon’s description). It may be odd that it is the goat form which lends its name to the creature, but it would be no more satisfying or instructive to have her called simply Leon or Drakōn. 639 Hes. Th. 820-35. See Goslin (2010), Clay (2003) 26. There is a strong focus on the monster’s heads here, emphasised in the repetition of κεφαλή at 825, 827, 828 and 829. West (1966) 381- 3 refutes arguments against the Typhon episode’s belonging in the poem, suggesting that this is simply evidence of Hesiod’s attempt ‘to describe the most frightful monster he is able to imagine, and his powers of expression are not equal to the task,’ although he concedes that some part of this may have been interpolated. Cf. Socrates’ use of Typhon’s incomprehensible form as an analogue for his psychological complexity at Pl. Phdr. 330a: εἴτε τι θηρίον τυγχάνω Τυφῶνος πολυπλοκώτερον καὶ μᾶλλον ἐπιτεθυμμένον. 640 Pisand. fr.2 = Paus. 2.37.4. 641 One cannot, of course, approach monsters in the Odyssey without considering the Homeric works’ much discussed tendency to avoid or suppress the truly fantastic, see e.g. Griffin (1977), de Jong (2001). However, as I shall discuss briefly here, visual descriptions of certain creatures are foregrounded to great effect and, although somewhat confined, monsters and fantastic elements do find a home in these poems. 642 Hopman (2012) 32-3 notes the similarity of Scylla to the Hesiodic Typhon, the ‘ultimate monster’, and suggests that audiences may have been encouraged ‘to approach the episode in Odyssey 12 with the Typhonomachy in mind.’ Owing to the seriousness of Typhon’s threat to Zeus’ order and thus the world as we know it, any connection between the two would naturally enhance Scylla’s danger. 643 On monsters and hospitality in the Odyssey see e.g. Bakker (2013) 26, Hopman (2012), Hutchinson (2007) 25. 644 Od. 10.112-13. See Hunter (2009) 149.

149 Sirens and Charybdis, are not explicitly described in terms of appearance – the Sirens presumably because their appearance is secondary to the danger represented by their song (although their hybridity is made clear elsewhere),645 while Charybdis, as a largely passive, geographical threat both in and of the sea, is naturally formless,646 and when described by Odysseus is characterised by movement rather than appearance.647 These monsters all appear, moreover, in Odysseus’ fantastic adventures:648 they exist in the realm of folktale and are encountered at sea (Charybdis, Scylla, the Sirens) or on islands (Polyphemus, the Laestrygonians).649

Later, in the Argonautica, monsters are of comparably huge proportion and display similar characteristics but need not be similarly associated with the sea. Talos, the bronze giant of Crete, is both excessively large and artificially created, and is encountered on the beaches of the island.650 The serpent guardian of the fleece, on the other hand, lives in a grove (ἄλσος) but again is emphatically large and dangerous because of its aggression.651 Furthermore, both are guardians whose aggression is directed against those who intrude into their areas. In these cases, then, as is also true of the monsters of the Odyssey and creatures such as Nessus, the Lernaean Hydra or Cerberus, monsters are associated with a specific place and must be sought out.652 It is the heroes who encounter them that roam the

645 E.g. on vases belonging to the ‘Eye-siren group’, see figure 2. 646 Hopman (2012) 68-70. The lack of physical description in Circe’s mention of Charybdis is even more apparent due to its juxtaposition with Scylla; these two monsters are a pair of opposites linked by spatial proximity and issues of sight: partial vs total destruction; intention vs passive threat; literal vs metaphorical consumption; lengthy description vs absence of this; and being hidden from view vs exposed when encountered. De Jong (2001) 239 discussing Polyphemus classes the lack of direct physical description as ‘typically Homeric fashion,’ but even if Scylla is the exception here (cf. above and Hopman (2012) 31), the contrast between these two monsters is emphasised through this discrepancy as it is used to strong poetic effect. 647 Od. 12.237-43. Odysseus’ description is not only more detailed but longer than Circe’s, reflecting, de Jong (2001) 304 suggests, his fascination for the ‘terrifying spectacle’ of Charybdis. This ‘spectacle’, however, is distinguished from that of Scylla (who hides from view and must therefore be described by Circe from a distance) because it is focused on ambivalent destructive capabilities. 648 The Phaeacians’ gold and silver guard dogs (7.91-4) are marvels of Alcinous’ palace and their special relationship with the gods – supernatural but not monstrous. 649 The sea location is emphasised in this episode by the fishing simile used to describe the massacre of Odysseus’ men at 22.381-9. 650 A.R. 4.1638-48. 651 A.R. 4.123-44. The creature’s size is shown clearly on the 5th century Duris cup, which shows Jason in the snake’s mouth. See Ogden (2013) esp. 58-59. Pindar similarly focuses on the creature’s size, which he describes as longer and broader than a ship with fifty oars, P. 4.245. 652 Hyg. Poet. Astr. 2.6.1 similarly describes the guardian snake of the Hesperides, which appeared in the epic cycle.

150 land seeking out battles and who are therefore at least to some extent the true antagonists of these narratives.

Other figures exhibit aspects of monstrosity. The Erinyes of Aeschylus’ Eumenides, for instance, are monstrous both in their pursuit of Orestes and their form. Although they are clearly female, these creatures are emphatically not like women, nor even Gorgons (οὔτοι γυναῖκας, ἀλλὰ Γοργόνας λέγω / οὐδ᾽ αὖτε Γοργείοισιν εἰκάσω τύποις), but resemble the Harpies stealing Phineus’ meal.653 This series of rejected comparanda (since their lack of wings, ἄπτεροι, distinguishes them even from the Harpies) are followed by more direct comment on their appearance: μέλαιναι δ᾽ ἐς τὸ πᾶν βδελύκτροποι.654 Thus, while the Erinyes can appear as bestial, monstrous creatures despite their lack of a detailed appearance, it is primarily their nature and function within the narrative that classifies them as monstrous opponents.

Hybridity may cause problems in behaviour as well as appearance, however, and among groups of monsters we find discrepancies which further complicate classification and may lead us to problematic interpretations. Moignard, for instance, writes that Centaurs ‘have a dual personality: they can be wise and civilised, as Cheiron is, or they can be violent, drunken brutes.’655 This, however, is an over-simplification, as it seems to present these two opposing behaviours as equally possible scenarios. Rather, Chiron is an exception to the rule of behaviour expected of Centaurs and is the only one to show a civilised nature: it is simply not the case that all Centaurs have the possibility of being civilised. Similarly to the creatures discussed above, Centaurs feature aspects of monstrosity in their behaviour, yet their appearance as hybrid creatures is central to this, as it renders them ‘less than’ human. They are creatures who, perhaps as a result of their hybridity exist outside civilisation and civilised mores, and appear as the opponent of a hero, for instance Nessus’ attempt to rape Deianeira and consequent battle

653 A. Eu. 50-1. The Harpies often appear in art as winged, female human-bird hybrids, LIMC s.v. “Harpyiai”, but here and in Apollonius’ Argonautica are characterised primarily as winged creatures (A.R. 2.227: διηέριαι ποτέονται). Apollonius’ Harpies also leave a μυδαλέην ὀδμήν (2.191) when they steal Phineus’ food, a further assault on the senses comparable to Typhon’s aforementioned cacophony of voices. 654 A. Eu. 52. As Zeitlin (1994) 140 writes, these rejected comparanda allow the Pythia to define the Erinyes according to iconographical markers. See Johnston (1999) 250-1. 655 Moignard (1998) 212.

151 with Heracles.656 In the Homeric works they are explicitly opposed to mankind, as summarised by Antinous in the Odyssey: ἐξ οὗ Κενταύροισι καὶ ἀνδράσι νεῖκος ἐτύχθη.657

In this myth, presented as an exemplum for the disguised Odysseus, the Centaur Eurytion commits (here unspecified) violence while drunk and causes conflict with the Lapiths. This story echoes retellings of the myth in the Iliad,658 creating key violent echoes of these figures, and has a further function in that Antinous unintentionally provides an exemplum detailing the suitors’ negative behaviour and so foreshadowing their eventual defeat.659 In this myth, the Centaurs’ attendance at a somewhat civilised event distances them from other monsters (Polyphemus notably does not typically interact with the other Cyclopes, a fact which emphasises his lack of civilised values and allows for his defeat)660 but simultaneously provides a recognisable social setting against which to highlight their monstrous behaviour. This negative perspective further appears in the Epic Cycle, as Hesychius classes the expression νοῦς οὐ παρὰ Κενταύροισι as proverbial and originating from Pisander’s lost Heraclea.661

Elsewhere, Centaurs are explicitly figured as monstrous opponents of heroes, as for instance in Heracles’ discussion of his past troubles in Euripides’ eponymous tragedy, where Centaurs are mentioned alongside other monsters:

ποίους ποτ᾽ ἢ λέοντας ἢ τρισωμάτους Τυφῶνας ἢ Γίγαντας ἢ τετρασκελῆ κενταυροπληθῆ πόλεμον οὐκ ἐξήνυσα; τήν τ᾽ ἀμφίκρανον καὶ παλιμβλαστῆ κύνα ὕδραν φονεύσας μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων διῆλθον ἀγέλας κἀς νεκροὺς ἀφικόμην, Ἅιδου πυλωρὸν κύνα τρίκρανον ἐς φάος ὅπως πορεύσαιμ᾽ ἐντολαῖς Εὐρυσθέως.662

656 S. Tr. 553-77. The Centaur, moreover, although unsuccessful in combat with Heracles, is indirectly responsible for the hero’s death. 657 Od. 21.303. 658 Il. 1.260-8, 2.738-44. 659 See de Jong (2001) 516-17. 660 Od. 9.187-9 ὅς ῥα τὰ μῆλα / οἶος ποιμαίνεσκεν ἀπόπροθεν· οὐδὲ μετ’ ἄλλους πωλεῖτ’, ἀλλ’ ἀπάνευθεν ἐὼν ἀθεμίστια ᾔδη. 661 Hesych. ν 683 = Pisand. fr. 9. 662 E. H. 1271-8. Pi. N. 1.62-3 presents a more general view of Heracles’ opponents in Tiresias’ prophecy, where the ‘lawless beasts’ (θῆρας ἀϊδροδίκας) may refer to Centaurs.

152 We might also compare the description of Heracles’ labours given in Sophocles’ Trachiniae, in which the Centaurs again feature and explicitly as violent, uncivilised monsters.

διφυῆ τ᾽ ἄμικτον ἱπποβάμονα στρατὸν θηρῶν, ὑβριστὴν ἄνομον, ὑπέροχον βίαν.663

Similarly, Centaurs are depicted being defeated by heroes in artistic renditions. A 5th century BC Athenian red-figure cup (figure 5) shows Theseus standing over a Centaur which he has stabbed with his spear. The Centaur’s bestial appearance is clearly emphasised in this work: although a hybrid of human and horse, this Centaur’s human part is depicted as such only up to his neck. The Centaur has animal-like ears and facial features which recall depictions of the Gorgons (figure 6),664 as does the detailing on his beard, which might otherwise mark him as anthropomorphic.

Among this group, Chiron is arguably the most individually notable Centaur (featuring in the myths of a number of heroes) but – as stated above – is notable for standing out as a unique example of a civilised Centaur, and one who is linked to heroic development, rather than opposing this as monsters typically do: he is, Emma Aston suggests, an ‘anti-monster’.665 Moreover, Chiron is distinguished from other Centaurs in the manner of his birth, as his parentage resembles that of heroes.666 He is not mentioned in the Homeric retellings of the Centauromachy, but instead is associated with Achilles’ education in the Iliad and distinguished from the other Centaurs through his civilised values (δικαιότατος Κενταύρων).667 Pindar’s Pythian 3 laments Chiron’s death, emphasising his role in aiding mortals through his connection to Asclepius and therefore his role as a hero, and calls this

663 S. Tr. 1095-6. 664 Although there is considerable variance in artistic depictions of the Gorgons as a group and of Medusa; see Topper (2007). 665 Aston (2014) 373. 666 A.R. 2.1231-42. See Aston (2014) 372-3. The use of Cronos’ metamorphosis to explain Chiron’s form, however, singles the centaur out from, for example, the children born to mortal women raped by Zeus in various forms, animal or otherwise: see Buxton (2009) 158-61. 667 Il. 16.143, 19.390, 11.832. As Griffin (1977) 40-1 notes, however, even as a civilised Centaur Chiron is apparently still too other for the Iliad, where ‘as far as possible the tutorship of Achilles by Chiron the Centaur is suppressed in favour of the man Phoenix.’

153 Centaur ‘a wild beast with a heart friendly to men’ (φῆρ᾿ ἀγρότερον / νόον ἔχοντ᾿ ἀνδρῶν φίλον).668

This distinction is also present in artistic representations, as Chiron is depicted in figure 7, a 5th century black-figure amphora, with a predominantly human body, rather than the anthropomorphic torso/equine body typically associated with Centaurs (as seen in figure 5). Here, the horse hybridity is secondary to Chiron’s characterisation and appears almost as an afterthought, while his civilised nature (important to his role in raising heroes, which is the subject of this vase) is made clear both through his human rather than simply anthropomorphic appearance669 and that he is depicted wearing clothes which mirror those of Peleus opposite him. Thus, unlike the monsters and monstrous beings discussed above, Chiron’s human nature and his belonging to the civilised world are brought to the fore. His hybridity cannot be removed without compromising his function straddling the civilised and bestial realms, but neither does it compromise his association with heroes. This brings us to the heart of a crucial aspect of Centaurs in Greek mythology: we can draw a distinction between Chiron and the other Centaurs, and indeed the other creatures discussed above, whose non-human characteristics are central to their depictions in both literature and art.

While, as mentioned above, there is no single essential characteristic of or term for monsters in Greek myth, this discussion has brought to light several important features which generate an overall set of resemblances among these figures. Monsters tend to be distinguished in some way by their appearance, which marks them as inhuman – this includes hybridity, excessive limbs or size,670 or unspecified horrible features. They exist – for the most part – as forces to be opposed and must be defeated or overcome if encountered by a hero; moreover, they are usually linked to a specific environment and do not seek out battles or victims. Essentially, monsters in Greek thought are those creatures which exist

668 Pi. P. 3.4-5. See Aston (2006) 351-2. 669 Chiron is depicted here with specifically human features, including his face, ears and expression; he is a ‘true’, neatly divided hybrid, whose horse-hybridity has no effect on his human side. 670 Beyond the limits of a supposed ‘normal’ human body.

154 outside nature and defy ordering and classification.671 These creatures can resemble humans and be made up of human body parts but they are simultaneously unrecognisable in some way (just as they may be composed of animal features and yet defy our expectations of the natural world or even challenge the natural, that is to say Zeus’, order). By this mix of familiarity and unrecognizability Greek monsters hold up a mirror to what it is to be human or of this world and present a distorted view back; they share characteristics with what is human and animal but altogether neither look nor behave as their component parts would suggest,672 nor should we expect them to do so.

This divide between appearance and reality of character or of behaviour will be useful as a consideration for my reading of the shapeshifters against monstrous figures. In light of this discussion, there are some immediately apparent parallels. Shapeshifters too resemble and yet are markedly different from humans; they must be sought out; they are to some extent theriomorphic and have forms which hint at hybridity.673 As gods, however – particularly as gods with a place in Zeus’ order – they are distinguished from the monsters above. Out of the various types of monsters discussed above, it is hybrid monsters which present the most relevant comparanda against which to read shapeshifters when considering appearance, as these groups are linked by their multiple forms, and as such these creatures will largely form the focus of this section. However, when considering other attributes, such as narrative role, I shall take a more general view of monsters.

Turning now to shapeshifters, I shall first discuss the ways in which these figures exhibit aspects of monstrosity through their narrative functions, considering their characterisation and behaviour since, after all, monstrosity is related to character as well as appearance. Next, I shall consider the depiction of shapeshifting as a monstrous attribute, as presented through the danger or horror of their animal forms. Finally, I shall explore the connection between cosmogonic threat and shapeshifters in relation to their role as primordial beings, considering

671 As Clay (1993) 106 puts it, ‘the monstrous is the anomalous, that which does not fit into usual classifications or transgresses normal limits, and hence may be considered dangerous.’ 672 Moignard (1998) 212. 673 See Aston (2014) 375: ‘It is among these aquatic deities that we find the clearest rapport between hybridism and metamorphosis’; cf. Johnston (1999) 171: ‘Shape-shifting… is a diachronic rather than synchronic form of hybridism’.

155 in particular the parallels between the threat presented by Typhon in the Theogony and that of Metis or Thetis to Zeus’ rule.

ii. Narrative function

To return to my initial statement, shapeshifters – particularly Proteus and Thetis – exist as the opponent of a hero; they are to be overcome as part of a heroic quest or attempt to prove (or consolidate) a hero’s status.674 Unlike most monsters these shapeshifters are emphatically not to be killed, but rather overpowered and therefore (temporarily) neutralised, in order for some gain on the hero’s part. Nevertheless, there are a number of significant parallels which I shall focus on here.

I discuss the significance of the Proteus episode to the wider Odyssey in detail below, so here I focus rather on the effect of certain narrative parallels on the shapeshifter’s characterisation. In the context of Menelaus’ small-scale odyssey, Proteus exists in parallel to Polyphemus in Odysseus’ homeward journey. The threat presented by this equivalence does not become fully apparent until the Cyclops’ appearance five Books later, but the risk of losing one’s nostos and the threat of anthropophagy675 tie these episodes together, and further link Proteus to other monsters such as Scylla and the Laestrygonians through the motif of inverted hospitality.

These beings are therefore linked by narrative parallels. Characters in the Odyssey, if split into their most fundamental categories, are either human (whether friend or foe to Odysseus), divine, or, for want of a better word, supernatural.676 Proteus is not an Olympian, nor is Eidothea; yet while Eidothea appears in a narrative role parallel to that of Athene aiding Odysseus, Proteus must be found and tricked. His antagonism (although in self-defence) casts him as an opponent. Furthermore, this episode is presented through Menelaus’ voice, rather than that of

674 This role hints at parallels in folktale: see chapter 2.1. 675 See chapter 1.2 above. 676 Calypso may be placed fairly easily into the category of the divine since by her own admission she is grouped with female deities (Od. 5.118-28). Circe with her magical abilities and threat to human identity is more problematic. The ghosts encountered in Book 11, on the other hand, are firmly human: despite appearing as a supernatural phenomenon, they retain human concerns and desires, as is shown clearly in Anticleia’s response to Odysseus and Achilles’ regret for his heroic status.

156 the primary narrator, and is thus distanced from the main narrative and the primary narrator’s confirmation similarly to Odysseus’ account of his travels.677

Behavioural patterns, too, support a connection between Proteus and Polyphemus, as both (unsuccessfully) seek to defend themselves and their homes against human intruders. While Proteus does not reach the horrifying level of violence enacted by Polyphemus, his act of shape-changing is a magical, supernatural one, and results in his literal reduction to bestial forms. Despite being skilled in rhetoric (unlike Polyphemus) and ‘crafty’ (δολίης…τέχνης, 455), Proteus is unwilling or unable to rely on verbal skill to resolve his altercation with Menelaus.678 Proteus’ prophetic ability, of course, further links him to Tiresias (and even to Nestor and Menelaus) through their shared narrative function of providing knowledge to the hero they encounter; both have access to a supernatural form of knowledge which is only offered to mortals who take the necessary steps to approach them. He thus appears to cross the boundaries of monstrosity and benevolence.

Thetis' narrative role, particularly as she appears in Lycophron’s Alexandra, also allows us to read her as monstrous, and so too Mestra in the fragments of the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women. Like Dionysus, Mestra challenges the definition of shapeshifters, as her transformations – while multiple and self-willed – occur over a long period of time and depend on her return to anthropomorphic shape in between each iteration. Nonetheless, this is a figure whose function and metamorphosis create a problem for societal order, as by defying the process of marriage Mestra challenges and disrupts societal norms, and therefore invites comparison with Thetis. In the next section I shall discuss the motif of shapeshifting as a monstrous characteristic, but for now I shall focus on the narrative structures which portray shapeshifters as subversive and therefore potentially dangerous. In order to carry out this part of my study, I shall be taking an extended view of ‘monstrous’ as that which is outside or threatening to ‘civilised’ norms. This is still

677 Griffin (1977) 40 discusses the apparent reluctance within the Homeric works to deal with supernatural or fantastic elements, such as invulnerability or tales of wondrous adventures, and the practice of relegating these stories to internal characters rather than the primary narrator’s voice. He does not mention Menelaus’ narrative, but this caution is similarly prominent in the episode and it too could be used to illustrate the point. 678 Although Menelaus is the first to attack and thus we might consider that the situation has gone beyond the limits of verbal resolution, there is no hint that this is a possibility – Proteus cannot be reasoned with.

157 rooted in the characteristics of traditional monsters: Centaurs are explicitly violent and ‘lawless’ (ἄνομον, ἀϊδροδίκης)679 while Typhon’s monstrosity lies both in his appearance and the very real threat he presents to Zeus’ rule.680 As such, there are two shared elements I wish to focus on in Thetis’ and Mestra’s episodes: 1) the failed marriage motif, and 2) their (lack of) children.

The Catalogue of Women is concerned primarily with women and their role in the genealogy of heroes681 and follows, for the most part, a simple, repeated plot structure to express this. The women detailed within generally behave in an ‘orderly’ manner which maintains this pattern.682 Mestra, then, stands out as a rare and particularly striking example of a socially disruptive woman, who not only defies the (narratively and socially) required status progression to wife by returning to her father,683 but does so repeatedly. She therefore reflects, Osborne suggests, a deviation from the simple, consistent plot found elsewhere throughout the Catalogue,684 but one which is crucially achieved through the medium of shapeshifting into animals. The socially disruptive act of leaving one’s marriage is rendered even more striking through the supernatural process and its apparently high number of iterations. Thetis, too, rejects marriage both in the moment of her transformation episode and after the birth of Achilles: she lives with her father at the start of the Iliad and acts independently, with such power and influence that she is able to request favours from Zeus (and expect these to be granted).685 Both women are therefore shown to disregard social norms and expectations of their social progression. Their behaviour here is not monstrous out of any violence, but they are rendered other by their actions, which – like the Centaurs’ violence at a wedding which prefigures their conflict with the Lapiths – are made to stand out against the recognisable social setting. Similar juxtaposition between the actions of a shapeshifter and a marriage theme is in play in Philostratus’ depiction of the overtly monstrous empousa.686 In this late version, the empousa’s shapeshifting is a

679 Pi. N. 1.63, S. Tr. 1095-6. 680 Hes. Th. 836-8. 681 See Hunter (2005), Osborne (2005) 11-14; cf. Van Noorden (2015) 3, 6; Ziogas (2013) 11. 682 Osborne (2005) 17. 683 Other fragments detailing Mestra’s story, Cat. frr.43b and 43c M-W, suggest that she is sold rather than married off to various suitors. I focus here on the disruption Mestra presents to marriage. 684 Osborne (2005) 19-20. 685 See Slatkin (1991). 686 Philostr. VA. 5.25.

158 means of anthropophagy, making literal the threat posed by Proteus or Thetis in lion form.687 While Thetis and Mestra shapeshift to avoid marriage, Menippus’ monstrous fiancée employs her transformative abilities to present herself as human (φάσμα…γυνή) in order to feed upon her would-be husband, an act which is explicitly linked to sex/marriage.688

The way in which both Thetis and Mestra are characterised regarding children is more troubling than their rejection of marriage and it is through this that their monstrous potential as shapeshifters is most clearly encapsulated. Thetis is, throughout the texts in which she appears, an ambivalent mother at best, apparently unable to conform fully to this role. It is in Lycophron’s Alexandra that we witness the full, horrifying potential of this inability to act within social or familial roles, as Thetis kills her mortal children while attempting to make them immortal.689 I discuss this more fully in chapter 3.2, but here it suffices to consider this an act which is shockingly transgressive not only because of the callous violence described, but through its portrayal against the expectations of a mother figure which are subverted as a result. We might compare Medea’s behaviour in killing her children, for which she is called a murderous Fury by the chorus (φονίαν…Ἐρινύν), and a ‘lion, not a woman’ (λέαιναν, οὐ γυναῖκα) by Jason, reduced therefore to an inhuman or animal status.690 However, Medea shows indecision and distress at her actions;691 her suffering in the tragedy does not undermine the shocking nature of her actions, but the audience is nonetheless invited to empathise to some extent with Medea’s suffering and to understand the emotional distress caused by her changed social position. The same cannot be said of Thetis in Lycophron, whose act is portrayed with no hint of emotion or concern for her children (indeed there is no hint as to Thetis’ state of mind at all), an absence which makes her alien and impossible for the audience to identify with.692

687 See above, chapter 1.2.i. 688 Philostr. VA. 5.25.4: σαρκῶν δὲ μάλιστα ἀνθρωπείων ἐρῶσι καὶ παλεύουσι τοῖς ἀφροδισίοις, οὓς ἂν ἐθέλωσι δαίσασθαι. 689 Lyc. 178-9. 690 E. Med. 1260 and 1342, cf. 187-8. Medea herself accepts this description at 1358-9. See Mastronarde (2002) 35-6. 691 E.g. E. Med. 1007, 1021ff. Medea’s monologue at 1056-80 suggests that she believes the children will be mistreated and perhaps killed by her enemies if she does not do so herself and has been the focus of much scholarly debate. Mastronarde (2002) ad loc. and 388-97 provides a discussion of the arguments surrounding this. 692 Lyc. 177-9, cf. Σ A.R. 4.816 = Hes. fr.300 M-W.

159 Mestra, on the other hand, commits no violence against her children; in fact, her practice of escaping marriage means that she does not have a child with a mortal father. Where in Thetis’ case we see an inversion of motherhood which is shocking and monstrous because of its lack of humanity, here the situation presented is simply one of absence.693 However, we find an additional detail in Mestra’s episode which might render this shapeshifter additionally monstrous. Her child by Poseidon is described as ‘overwhelmingly strong’:

γείνατο παῖδα βίην ὑπέροπλον ε̣ [χοντα.694

If we read Mestra in the light of other prominent female shapeshifters, Thetis and Metis, it is possible here to see a hint at the common motif of a child born to overthrow the father. The adjective ὑπέροπλος is generally negative in meaning,695 and is only used elsewhere in the Hesiodic corpus three times, all in the Theogony – once to refer to Menoetes (who is punished by Zeus) and twice to refer to the Hundred-Handers.696 We may therefore assume that the use of this adjective here suggests excessive strength. A further parallel in Hesiod can be found in the description of the prophecy to Zeus regarding Metis’ children, which leads to Zeus swallowing her to prevent another succession. Metis’ second child will ‘have overwhelming strength’ (ὑπέρβιον ἦτορ ἔχοντα)697 and thus prove a threat to Zeus’ rule. Although the words used are different, the sense is the same and I suggest that here we can identify a link (although one which is inverted)698 between Mestra and other female shapeshifters. This child may not have the power to overthrow gods, but is nonetheless inhumanly strong, thus reminding the reader of the dangerous potential commonly associated with female shapeshifters.

Both women are therefore to some extent monstrous as a result of their inability to act in a socially prescribed manner: both seek to avoid marriage and use shapeshifting to this end, in Mestra’s case challenging the whole order of the

693 The lack of children may render her transition to γυνή incomplete, cf. King (1983) 121-4. In this regard, Mestra again invites comparison with Caenis (fr.87 M-W), who – transformed into the male Caeneus – will remain childless, see Ziogas (2013) 199. 694 Hes. Cat. fr.43a.59 M-W. 695 LSJ s.v. ὑπέροπλος. See Il. 15.185 and 17.170. 696 Hes. Th. 516 (Menoetius); 619, 670 (Hekatoncheires). Aside from these instances and Cat. fr.43a M-W, this adjective does not appear elsewhere in the Hesiodic corpus. 697 Hes. Th. 898. 698 The sense is inverted as Mestra will not (through Zeus’ plan) bear grandsons for Sisyphus, but instead bears the children of a god, cf. Thetis being married to Peleus to avoid marriage to Zeus or Poseidon.

160 narrative in which she features, and both transgress with regards to children. Thetis kills her children and does so apparently without emotion; Mestra avoids having children and then gives birth to a child who may be paralleled in description by other monsters.

iii. Shapechanging as a monstrous attribute

Next, I explore the ways in which the act of shapeshifting, of taking on features and forms of (in particular) multiple animals and elements willingly, functions as a monstrous act in the myths, and how it may have been understood as such by audiences and readers. As I mentioned above, the motif of metamorphosis itself has been described as monstrous by various scholars.699 Since monsters are not simply the sum of their parts either in appearance or behaviour (i.e. monsters constructed from human features do not behave in a recognisably human manner, nor are they – typically – of human proportions), I explore whether the same can be said of shapeshifters. Monsters, Moignard writes, stem from ‘the idea that physical appearance or behaviour can easily mutate.’700 This assertion ties nicely into shapeshifters, whose nature is dependent on fluidity and defying expectations.

Monsters, as discussed above, are often (although not always) hybrid creatures. Their appearance as a mix of creatures naturally allows for them to be marginalised and portrayed as something other or external to the natural world as humans experience it. Furthermore, they are – usually – composed of dangerous, or potentially dangerous, features. A monster with one hundred arms possesses (at least) fifty times a normal human’s capacity to hold weapons or attack, while Typhon – composed of snakes and able to breathe fire – is powerful enough to pose a very real threat even to Zeus at the height of his power.701 This is also true of the shapeshifters, as I shall explore.

A shapeshifter such as Proteus has the innate potential to become, so we are told by Eidothea in the Odyssey, any creature. Therefore, although these forms are

699 E.g. Detienne (1978) and Griffin (1977) as quoted above. 700 Moignard (1998) 217, my emphasis. 701 Hes. Th. 820ff; the threat to Zeus’ rule is made explicit at 836-7: καί νύ κεν ἔπλετο ἔργον ἀμήχανον ἤματι κείνῳ /καί κεν ὅ γε θνητοῖσι καὶ ἀθανάτοισιν ἄναξεν. The conflict is developed later to have Typhon temporarily defeat and bind Zeus, e.g. Apollod. 1.6.3, paralleling Zeus’ binding in the mythic past of the Iliad.

161 not taken on at the same time, but sequentially, it must be understood that there is something in a shapeshifter’s nature which allows them to make these changes of identity: theirs is a fluidity which is not found in any other group of figures. Taking Proteus as our example, the Old Man of the Sea has a multiform identity, or an identity composed of multiple other identities – it is not the case that Proteus disappears and a lion takes his place, but that Proteus is the lion (as is also explicitly the case with Thetis and Dionysus in their respective episodes). Proteus, encountered by Menelaus, is god, seal-herd, lion, boar, leopard, snake, water, tree: this is not hybridity of appearance as we find exemplified in Typhon or the Chimaera, but rather a hybrid, multiform identity,702 and one with facets which commonly appear as or part of monsters: for instance the Nemean lion, the Serpent guard of the Hesperides, the Lernaean Hydra, Typhon. Moreover, this hybridity, like that of monsters, is excessive: the range of Proteus’ transformative ability casts him as a powerful and dangerous opponent for Menelaus, while the Hesiodic Typhon’s hybridity is such that the audience understand that he represents a serious challenge to Zeus’ power.

Of course, in the Odyssey there is room for such elaboration which may not exist elsewhere. Pindar avoids the need for such expansiveness in his depiction of Thetis by focusing instead on the danger associated with her multiple forms. Again, she becomes an aggressive lion, but this lion is reduced to its most dangerous attributes, its teeth and claws. For Peleus wrestling with Thetis during her metamorphoses, we may assume, these features would be the greatest concern. Pindar’s narrative is thus effectively focalised by Peleus, as well as being temporally compressed; we find a similar occurrence in Odysseus’ reaction to Scylla as she snatches away his companions, where the focus is placed on her heads and the men as she draws them back into the cave. Odysseus’ attention leads the audience to focus on this most essential part of the monster, which was prefigured in Circe’s earlier description of the creature, of which her three rows of teeth are the climax:

702 Aston (2014) 374-6.

162 ἐν δὲ ἑκάστῃ σμερδαλέη κεφαλή, ἐν δὲ τρίστοιχοι ὀδόντες πυκνοὶ καὶ θαμέες, πλεῖοι μέλανος θανάτοιο.703

When reading shapeshifters against the characteristics of monsters, it becomes even clearer that it is no coincidence that lions are common to all three of our most prominent shapeshifters, as this form acts as a shorthand for danger and threat. Similarly, although lions are very often used in epic similes to describe moments of heroic aristeia this too separates heroes from mankind: the heroes described in this way are at their most heroic on the battlefield – that is, their most aggressive and dangerous – and are therefore at their least human, as is frequently exemplified in similes positioning these lions going against farmers or their animals.704 These representations distinguish heroes both from other mortal characters within the poems and from audiences of the poems; that they behave in such a way and are of a different era further separates them from ‘human’ behaviour.705 A human or anthropomorphic figure who becomes a lion, or a monster bearing this shape, is capable of terrible violence which explicitly poses a threat to humanity.

It is not only lions or animal forms taken on in conflict which can provoke horror. The river-god Achelous is cast as a monster because of his shapeshifting in Sophocles’ Trachiniae, as Deianeira describes the god and his theriomorphic transformations and expresses her fear of him in her wish to die rather than marry Achelous:

ὅς μ᾽ ἐν τρισὶν μορφαῖσιν ἐξῄτει πατρός, φοιτῶν ἐναργὴς ταῦρος, ἄλλοτ᾽ αἰόλος δράκων ἑλικτός, ἄλλοτ᾽ ἀνδρείῳ κύτει βούπρῳρος· ἐκ δὲ δασκίου γενειάδος κρουνοὶ διερραίνοντο κρηναίου ποτοῦ. τοιόνδ᾽ ἐγὼ μνηστῆρα προσδεδεγμένη δύστηνος αἰεὶ κατθανεῖν ἐπηυχόμην, πρὶν τῆσδε κοίτης ἐμπελασθῆναί ποτε.706

703 Od. 12.90-2. 704 E.g. Il. 5.554-60, 10.485-8. See e.g. Mills (2000) 4-6, Alden (2005) 335, Scott (2006) 105. Cf. Heracles likened to a bull at A.R. 1.1261-72. 705 As detailed in e.g. Hes. Erg. 156-73 and Helen’s words to Hector at Il. 6.357-8 ὡς καὶ ὀπίσσω / ἀνθρώποισι πελώμεθ᾽ ἀοίδιμοι ἐσσομένοισι. 706 S. Tr. 10-17.

163 In light of the marriage theme and the possible iterative nature of this transformation, Achelous’ shapeshifting resembles that of Mestra, although the episodes are distinguished by both the gender and intention of the shapeshifter. In fact, Achelous’ animal forms here recall Zeus’ myriad transformations in his pursuit of mortal women, and the transformation is similarly motivated by erotic desire.707 However, while Zeus’ forms are discrete, temporary events which lead to the birth of heroes, Achelous is a bull-faced (βούπρῳρος) hybrid even while in largely anthropomorphic form (a fact which distinguishes him from our other shapeshifters).708 Moreover, Heracles must fight and defeat Achelous while the god is in his typical bull-hybrid form, as we learn from visual sources (figures 8 and 9) and later authors.709 The details of this fight are largely absent in Sophocles’ tragedy, but since this tale is focalised by Deianeira, the true horror lies not in Achelous’ violence or in the danger associated with his animal shapes (although, as discussed above, snakes certainly are a common feature of monsters and dangerous in their own right) but in his inhuman appearance and the threat of being forced to marry this shapeshifter.

Lastly, it is also important that as transitory, changeable beings, shapeshifters are in some respects essentially formless. Just as they may become any shape, animal, plant or mineral, and have a multiform identity, they are of no fixed appearance and cannot be defined as belonging to any one group or category (except that, of course, of shapeshifters). In this too, however, they recall monsters, but – perhaps – the monsters of primordial times, such as we find represented in Apollonius’ Argonautica. When the Argonauts visit Circe, they find the witch accompanied not by men transformed into wild animals as in the Odyssey,710 but a host of unformed creatures approaching.711 These θῆρες are not like either men or animals, but have an unspecified mix of limbs (συμμιγέες μελέων),712 and behave

707 See Buxton (2009) 158-62. 708 He is worshipped as such in his cult, see Aston (2014) 366-9. Nereus and Proteus are also at times depicted visually as hybrid merman, perhaps as a means of representing their shapeshifting, but in literature emphasis is placed on their anthropomorphism. Cf. Apollonius’ description of Triton, 4.1610-16; see Fusillo (1985) 293 on Apollonius’ ‘predilezione del singolare’. 709 Cf. Apollod. 2.7.5. 710 Indeed there is no hint of any transformation here, see Dufner (1988) 80, contra Kyriakou (1994) 317-18. 711 A.R. 4.672-82. 712 Apollonius’ description of these creatures seems to evoke Empedoclean cosmogony, which includes creatures that are similarly made up of human and bestial parts, D156 (= Ael. NA.

164 like cattle. Creatures such as these, the narrator tells us, were produced by the earth itself from mud; these monsters represent a temporal distortion, as the heroes are confronted with primeval beings from before the world was formed.713 Possessing such an ancient nature is true, as we shall see, of a good number of monsters and of other shapeshifters, too, and may provide another way in which to read these characters.

iv. Primordial nature

The monsters of early Greek literature are, as a rule, not created but born,714 and this is not within memory either of audiences or of human characters. Charybdis, as discussed above, is largely a geographical feature, so this is unsurprising. Scylla, on the other hand, is a monster who (presumably) could move and, at some point, began to inhabit her cave. From the narrative and character perspective of the Odyssey, though, she is as fixed in place as any other danger Odysseus and his men must encounter. In the Theogony monsters are as much a feature of Hesiod’s genealogy as are the gods, but they exist in a state predating the establishment of Zeus’ order. These monsters hark back to primordial times and are often as old or older than the Olympians. The Hundred Handers and the Cyclopes, for example, are of the same generation as Cronos and the other Titans.715

Remaining with the Theogony, Hesiodic monsters are sometimes descendants of primary elements: Typhon, for instance, is the child of Gaia (or elsewhere Hera), as are the Hundred-Handers (δεινότατοι παίδων).716 Other

16.29). Dufner (1998) 78-80 discusses Apollonius’ simultaneous intensification of the supernatural elements of the Circe episode in the Odyssey, and his rationalisation through the reflection of this pre-Socratic philosophy. Such comparison to philosophical, cosmogonic ideas may have been intended to lead the audience, familiar with the Odyssean episode, to view these creatures and this portrayal of Circe as distinct from that of the Odyssey. See Fusillo (1985) 63- 4 on the impact of Empedoclean philosophy in this episode and Kyriakou (1994) for a discussion of the Empedoclean episodes in the Argonautica with a focus on their relation to the governing concepts of νεῖκος and φιλότης. 713 A.R. 4.678-80: οὔ πω διψαλέῳ μάλ᾿ ὑπ᾿ ἠέρι πιληθεῖσα, / οὐδέ πω ἀζαλέοιο βολαῖς τόσον ἠελίοιο / ἰκμάδας αἰνυμένη. 714 As with any rule, of course, there are exceptions: Talos was from a race of beings ‘born’ from ash-trees (A.R. 4.1641), Pandora (not a monster but similarly destructive) was created by Zeus and the other gods (Hes. Erg. 60-82), and Typhon, in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, was conceived only by Hera (h.Ap. 335ff), certainly not a traditional birth. 715 Hes. Th. 139-41, 147-9. 716 Hes. Th. 147-56.

165 monsters are listed among secondary genealogies, for instance the Gorgons, the children of Ceto and Phorcys,717 or Echidna, the child of Chrysaor and Callirhoe,718 or are the product of other monsters, as Typhon and Echidna are listed as the parents of Orthus, Cerberus and the Hydra.719 The Olympian gods too are related to these primordial forces, and indeed share parentage with creatures such as the Titans. Gods and monsters cannot be distinguished according to generation – there is no distinct ‘age’ of monsters, nor of Olympians, other than that established through Zeus’ victory over Cronos and later Typhon. In fact, this second victory in particular relies on Zeus’ ability – one which distinguishes him from both Ouranos and Cronos720 – to form alliances even with monsters, the Hundred-Handers, and thus to distinguish, in spite of similarly monstrous appearance, between real monsters that must be defeated (i.e. Typhon) and potential allies.

In Greek myth, then, monsters are as old as the gods but tend to be defeated by heroes (or by Zeus, in the case of Typhon) – this is the main distinguishing feature, and one which allows us to make a connection with shapeshifters. These figures are, of course, emphatically linked with the sea, often through birth or generation. Nereus is the oldest child of Πόντος in the Theogony and his birth is listed shortly after that of fundamental principles governing life, including Death (Θάνατος), Sleep (Ὕπνος) and Old Age (Γῆρας), among others.721 Moreover, he is perpetually old, or at least viewed in this way (καλέουσι γέροντα), and therefore somehow timeless.722 Thetis, in turn, is the daughter of Nereus; Dionysus was in some myths raised by Thetis in the sea;723 Proteus is in some sense an analogue of Nereus and is similarly referred to as old; Metis is a daughter of Ocean, along with a range of personified rivers.724 Finally, Mestra, though a mortal, was granted her powers by Poseidon. The sea is, of course, the home of monsters (as discussed above) and is a liminal space which presents a very real danger to sailors in its

717 Hes. Th. 270-8 718 Hes. Th. 295-303. 719 Hes. Th. 304-15. 720 Both of whom sought to suppress future rebellion by ingestion or imprisonment, in both cases actually leading directly to their downfall. 721 Hes. Th. 211-36. 722 Cf. the Graiai, Th. 271-2. 723 For this, see Chapter 3.2. 724 See Hes. Th. 337-58.

166 expanse725 and the threat of drowning, and one which cannot be tamed or controlled.

Like monsters and the earliest generations of beings (i.e. Gaia and Ouranos), shapeshifters represent a threat to society and civilisation. I have already discussed above how this threat (in the case of Thetis and Mestra) can be expressed as a rejection of marriage and therefore of the typical and expected female status progression from παρθένος to γυνή. As primordial beings, however, shapeshifters are often linked to attacks on world order. Thetis, for instance, is a destabilising force, the cause of tension between Zeus and Poseidon who clash (ἔρισαν) over who should marry her.726 Although no detail is given this tension nonetheless recalls the tensions underlying the Theogony, concerned as it is with generational conflict.727 Moreover, behind this quarrel is the threat of a successor who would overthrow the Olympians – a threat which in the Theogony is presented by Metis’ potential child728 or Typhon.

Furthermore, as with the conflict with Typhon, Zeus must listen to advice and successfully navigate the issue of Thetis’ potential to give birth to his successor. The compromise of marrying the Nereid to Peleus negates this threat and allows for Thetis to become a potential helper.729 This is shown to be the case in one secondary narrative of the Iliad, in which we discover that Thetis – originally a destabilising force – actually rescues Zeus when his fellow Olympians betray him.

πολλάκι γάρ σεο πατρὸς ἐνὶ μεγάροισιν ἄκουσα εὐχομένης ὅτ᾽ ἔφησθα κελαινεφέϊ Κρονίωνι οἴη ἐν ἀθανάτοισιν ἀεικέα λοιγὸν ἀμῦναι, ὁππότε μιν ξυνδῆσαι Ὀλύμπιοι ἤθελον ἄλλοι Ἥρη τ᾽ ἠδὲ Ποσειδάων καὶ Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη·730

725 This is commonly emphasised in the adjectives used, e.g. ἀπείρων (Il. 1.350), εὐρύς (Il. 6.291). Μεγᾰκήτης may be used to indicate expanse (for instance at Od. 3.158) or to refer to its association with monsters as at A.R. 4.318. LSJ s.v. μεγᾰκήτης. 726 Pi. I. 8.27-9. Alternatively, Apollonius Rhodius (4.757ff) presents a version in which Thetis refused Zeus out of respect for Hera – this again hints at Olympian discord, although at a lower level (and one which aligns this myth with those concerning Zeus’ affairs with mortal women). 727 Although we need not necessarily assume that this was as potentially serious as the conflicts depicted in the Theogony it nonetheless hints as cosmic disruption. 728 Hes. Th. 891-8. 729 See Slatkin (1991) passim and 65-9 on Thetis’ power in the Iliad. 730 Il. 1.396-400.

167 This conflict parallels that of the Theogony and again showcases the potential and necessity of alliances in Zeus’ rule; indeed, it is Briareus (or Aegaeon), one of the Hundred-Handers, whom Thetis calls on for help in this instance, thus reinforcing the connection with Zeus’ conflict with Typhon. As a successful mediator, Zeus can rely on the help of potential (negated) threats and monsters when threatened even by other Olympians, where Cronos and Ouranos were unsuccessful in preventing their overthrow. This is also true of the way in which Zeus deals with Metis, even though this strongly recalls Cronos’ ingestion of his children. Zeus does not kill or imprison Metis, but rather swallows her, ensuring that he will receive her counsel in the future and guaranteeing his status as μητίετα Ζεύς.731 This is of course a form of cannibalism and as such may itself be read as a monstrous act comparable to that of Cronos, but is one which brings about success through a form of mediation. The son of Cronos is thus distinguished from his father in the manner and success of his rule.

Additionally, shapeshifters can also challenge humanity or form, since (as discussed above, chapter 1.3) figures such as Dionysus create an atmosphere of flux which provokes transformations in those mortals who encounter them, for example the pirates of the Homeric Hymn to Dionysus. This is a particularly monstrous aspect of their characterisation, as for mortals the loss of human form is often (although not always) tantamount to loss of identity.

v. Conclusion

To summarise, a reading of shapeshifters against the characteristics, narrative function, and appearance of a range of Greek monsters provides us with an insightful way to consider these figures and various aspects of their presentation. As gods (for the most part) they are not monsters, but they are often characterised in such a way that they recall them. In appearance and nature shapeshifters recall excessively proportioned and hybrid monsters, and like monsters they make use of their composite nature to defend themselves from attack. They are narratively positioned as the opponents of the heroes or gods, as are monsters such as Typhon or Polyphemus who impede the development or aim of a heroic figure, but who are

731 Hes. Th. 904, Il. 1.175.

168 overcome and so allow for stabilisation of the hero’s status. This connection solidifies the threat which they pose to those who encounter them and to world order as depicted in the Theogony; both shapeshifters and monsters are often linked with a specific place and react violently to defend themselves. Moreover, they are ancient figures, capable of recalling primordial times and posing potential threats which must be mediated by Zeus. Even if we take the shapeshifters to be monsters in the full sense, then, there is still a distinction between these figures and, for instance, Typhon, who cannot be Zeus’ ally and so must be imprisoned.

For audiences familiar with monsters this connection would provide a way in which to approach these shapeshifters, providing a sense of familiarity and expectations which may be met (that the shapeshifter/monster will be defeated) or challenged (the shapeshifter/monster becomes a helper, or the shapeshifter/monster is only temporarily neutralised). As I have shown, the degree to which any individual shapeshifter may be considered monstrous varies, although I suggest that in light of the huge variance of ‘traditional’ monsters and their characteristics this should not trouble us. Proteus acts as a monster in his opposition to Menelaus’ nostos, yet parallels Tiresias in his provision of essential knowledge; Thetis possesses the capability of producing a potentially monstrous child, as may Mestra, and is a threat that must be mediated by Zeus. The myths of both Mestra and Thetis, along with Empousa, subvert expectations of marriage – the latent threat of Mestra and Thetis’ rejection of marriage is brought to horrifying, almost parodic, fulfilment in Empousa’s attempted anthropophagy. Achelous is a horrifying marriage prospect because of his inhuman appearance; Dionysus is part of the Olympian pantheon, yet takes the form of a lion and undermines the identities of those who oppose him. These apparent contradictions are coherent in figures defined by a state of flux and lead us to the crux of this discussion: shapeshifters blur the limits of anthropomorphism and monstrosity. They have no single fixed form but rather a multiform identity and although gods they exist on the fringes of the pantheon. They are to be defeated by a hero or god but not killed, and their narrative role has them act as antagonists and helpers in one tale. As with Chiron, then, to borrow Emma Aston’s term, we may usefully refer to these figures as ‘anti-monsters’ – beings whose appearance and behaviour contain monstrous aspects, but which are distinguished from typical monsters by

169 their status as gods and by having a fluid form which is neither wholly theriomorphic or anthropomorphic.

170 Chapter 3: Synoptic Readings

In the final section of this thesis I present two synoptic readings focusing on the two most prominent shapeshifters, Proteus and Thetis, in order to look beyond their shapeshifting and explore their role in Greek myth more widely and thus demonstrate the true impact of studying these characters on our understanding of Greek poetry. First, I discuss the inter- and intratextual impact of Proteus’ interaction with Menelaus in Book 4 of the Odyssey. I shall show that Proteus’ impact can be traced into Apollonius Rhodius’ Argonautica, informing the depiction of the Hesperides, and that Proteus’ shapeshifting carries a wealth of associations which firmly situate this episode in the wider narrative of the Odyssey, allowing for parallels to emerge between Proteus, Tiresias, and Nestor, which in turn strengthen the affinity between Odysseus and Menelaus, linking the nostoi and struggles of these Greek heroes.

Next, I turn to the portrayal of Thetis as a mother-figure in the Iliad, the Homeric Hymns, and Hellenistic poetry, where I shall explore a parallel with Demeter and consider how Thetis’ role as a shapeshifter impacts on her wider mythic appearances as the mother of Achilles and the adoptive mother of Dionysus and Hephaestus. I shall demonstrate that Thetis’ shapeshifting, linked as it is to the threat of succession she presents, is intrinsically linked to her role as mother and foster-mother; her successful relationships with Dionysus and Hephaestus in the Iliad are tied to her ambivalent relationship with Zeus and the other Olympian deities and recall the cosmic threat she represents and, and this is similarly expressed in her attempts to transform Achilles into an immortal being.

171 3.1 Proteus in the Odyssey and beyond: the significance of Odyssey 4

The meeting of Menelaus and Proteus in Odyssey 4 includes many thematic and structural parallels to the Odyssey as a whole, which, since it is placed early on in the narrative, affect the ways in which later echoes and resemblances are understood. Many of these resemblances – some of which are inversions – serve to link Menelaus and Odysseus through their nostoi and the trials they encounter on their homeward journeys.732 For instance, Menelaus’ encounter with the shapeshifter in Odyssey 4 closely parallels the interaction of Odysseus and Polyphemus in Book 9;733 this is a crucial link between the nostoi of the two heroes. However, this is not the only interaction between Proteus’ shapeshifting episode and the overall narrative of the Odyssey, as in many ways this episode functions as a microcosm of the poem as a whole, leading to even stronger identification of Menelaus with Odysseus, and to some more complex interactions. The purpose of this section, therefore, is to examine Proteus’ appearance in the Odyssey more broadly and to explore how this episode fits into the wider narrative through intratextual links, including those related to the elements in which Proteus transforms, and how Proteus and Menelaus are associated with various other characters in the narrative. I shall also look beyond the Odyssey and explore some intertextual links with Proteus’ shapeshifting episode, in order to demonstrate the impact of the Odyssean episode on wider literature. This synoptic reading thus acts as a focused study of the narrative roles and functions of arguably the most developed shapeshifting figure of Greek literature, exploring the ways in which Proteus is employed across a range of texts.

I begin with a notable example of the impact Proteus has outside the Odyssey, a striking intertext with Apollonius of Rhodes’ Argonautica. Next, this argument will return to the Odyssey, as I consider thematic resemblances between this episode and the rest of the text, including the depiction of water as a quasi- opponent and Proteus’ close equivalence to characters such as Tiresias, in contrast to his role as a Trickster (focusing more specifically on his relation in this role to

732 These parallels may form part of the oral composition of the poem, functioning as building blocks or tools with which a composer may structure the narrative during performance; here my focus is on the reader, but see, e.g. Parry (1971) Foley (1997), Burgess (2004). 733 See e.g. Plass (1969), Pucci (1987).

172 Odysseus), before moving on to discuss the deeper structural connections, such as the narrative methods employed, the structural inversions which occur, and their purpose. i. Proteus beyond the Odyssey

Elements of Menelaus’ encounter with Proteus echo throughout the Odyssey. The encounter as a whole also has an impact beyond the text – certain connections and structural resemblances which exist in other works, and indeed in the Odyssey itself, do not lie simply within Proteus’ character but can be identified in the larger shapeshifting episode type. Eidothea, in coming to Menelaus’ aid while the hero walks alone away from the company of his men,734 parallels Thetis in the Iliad. Both goddesses aid an unhappy mortal for whom they feel pity and/or affection and who has left the company of his men; in both instances the consultation of a supernatural being of greater authority is required.735 This generates a further parallel between Menelaus and Achilles, and perhaps by association strengthens the connection between Menelaus and Eidothea, who has no obvious motive for helping the hero other than pity; certainly, the relationship of Eidothea to Menelaus is in contrast to that between Athene and Odysseus. Furthermore, although the familial relationship between goddess and mortal is absent,736 this element is not lost altogether but rather distorted in order to make Eidothea’s trick on Proteus a familial betrayal. That this episode of the Odyssey therefore finds a parallel such a central scene of the Iliad may invite us to re-evaluate Menelaus’ role in the epic; he is, by association, established as a structurally significant character, as I explore below.

Striking similarities can additionally be found between Odyssey 4 and Apollonius’ Argonautica, as Christina Marie Dufner has argued.737 In particular, the motif of a solitary hero advised by a goddess can be identified in Book 4 of the

734 Menelaus is νόσφιν ἑταίρων when Eidothea speaks to him (Od. 4.367); Achilles similarly distances himself from his companions to consult his mother: ἕζετο νόσφι λιασθείς (Il. 1.349). 735 Proteus as Eidothea’s father, Zeus as the divine basileus. 736 West (1988) ad 365-6 suggests that the absence of a motive for Eidothea is noteworthy – certainly, her pity does not stem from any apparent connection, but is demanded by the motif and the need for Menelaus to parallel Odysseus. 737 Dufner’s (1988) thesis presents a very full discussion of the relationship between the Odyssey and the Argonautica; my aim here is not to reproduce this argument but rather to build on this by focussing more closely on the impact of Proteus’ appearance, and as such I shall rely quite strongly here on this thesis. For her analysis of the connections between Odyssey 4 and Argonautica 4 see especially 189-95.

173 Argonautica, which presents clear evidence of the impact of Proteus’ Odyssean shapeshifting episode. Jason, stranded on an island, is approached and advised by the Libyan heroines on how to progress in his journey.738 Although Jason is not explicitly separated from his companions here, the heroines appear to him alone,739 and thus in a sense isolate him from his companions. In many ways, these heroines parallel Leucothea’s aid of Odysseus in Odyssey 5, as Richard Hunter has argued.740 However, the connection with Eidothea requires further analysis.

Let us consider Eidothea’s opening address to Menelaus:

‘νήπιός εἰς, ὦ ξεῖνε, λίην τόσον ἠδὲ χαλίφρων, ἦε ἑκὼν μεθίεις καὶ τέρπεαι ἄλγεα πάσχων; ὡς δὴ δήθ᾽ ἐνὶ νήσῳ ἐρύκεαι, οὐδέ τι τέκμωρ εὑρέμεναι δύνασαι, μινύθει δέ τοι ἦτορ ἑταίρων.’741

And that of the Libyan heroines to Jason:

αὐτὸν δέ μιν ἀμφαδὸν οἶον μειλιχίοις ἐπέεσσιν ἀτυζόμενον προσέειπον· ‘κάμμορε, τίπτ᾿ ἐπὶ τόσσον ἀμηχανίῃ βεβόλησαι;’742

On first inspection, these addresses suggest quite different attitudes towards the hero concerned, as the opening of Eidothea’s question (νήπιός εἰς), appears to place blame with Menelaus, while the heroines’ use of κάμμορε appears to minimise any agency on Jason’s part in his predicament.743 However, while the heroines’ gentleness towards Jason is explicit in their manner of speaking (μειλιχίοις ἐπέεσσιν) and careful treatment of the hero,744 Eidothea is similarly

738 A.R. 4.1305-31. 739 A.R. 4.1316; earlier, however, his men are said to have dispersed (βὰν δ᾿ ἴμεν ἄλλυδις ἄλλος, 4.1293), Dufner (1988) 189. Vian (1981) 192 reads αὐτὸν and οἶον together as emphasising Jason’s solitary nature. 740 Hunter (2015) 258, 260. Jason’s relationship to the Libyan heroines has more in common with Menelaus’ to Proteus than Achilles’ to Thetis, due to the lack of a familial bond between goddess and hero. Vian (1981) 192 notes differences between the appearance of the Libyan Heroines and those of Olympians; unlike Thetis (or other visiting deities), the Heroines do not come from or return to Olympus, but rather ‘surgissent du sol, puis y disparaissant’. Similarly, Eidothea does not (explicitly) appear from or disappear to Olympus, and Leucothea appears to Odysseus from the sea (ἀνεδύσετο λίμνης, Od. 5.337). 741 Od. 4.371-4. 742 A.R. 4.1316-18. 743 The heroines’ use of this term is however a direct parallel to Leucothea’s opening words to Odysseus at Od. 5.349-40. See Livrea (1973) 372. Vian (1981) 192 calls this episode a ‘vision’, as opposed to the typical divine dream appearances of the Homeric works. 744 At A.R. 4.1314 the heroines remove Jason’s coverings softly (ἠρέμα), with the adjective stressing their concern for the hero, see Hunter (2015) 259.

174 prompted by concern,745 and in both instances the hero is questioned and criticised as to why he has not helped himself.746 Furthermore, νήπιος, with its connotations of childishness, may be understood as implying helplessness parallel to Jason’s ἀμηχανία.

The Argonautica further parallels Menelaus’ encounter with Proteus in Jason’s meeting with the Hesperides. These nymphs are explicitly related to water, being daughters of Ocean (γένος Ὠκεανοῖο),747 and are shown to have control over this element (and others), as they create an oasis for the Argonauts who are in desperate need of water.748 Like the Libyan heroines and Eidothea, these nymphs take pity on the mortals (ἐλέαιρον)749 and assist them. In this regard, these Hesperides appear to take on the ‘Helper Maiden’ archetype, as the Libyan heroines did previously.750

Furthermore, these Hesperides are able to transform at will; when threatened by the presence of Jason and his men the nymphs transform into ash and earth (ταὶ δ᾿ αἶψα κόνις καὶ γαῖα, κιόντων / ἐσσυμένως, ἐγένοντο),751 then change into various trees while creating the spring, and finally resume their original form:

Ἑσπέρη αἴγειρος, πτελέη δ᾿ Ἐρυθηὶς ἔγεντο, Αἴγλη δ᾿ ἰτείης ἱερὸν στύπος. ἐκ δέ νυ κείνων δενδρέων, οἷαι ἔσαν, τοῖαι πάλιν ἔμπεδον αὔτως ἐξέφανεν, θάμβος περιώσιον.752

Although these transformations are somewhat spread out, each progressive transformation (nymphs → dust → trees → nymphs) occurs in fairly quick succession and all three changes form part of a clear sequence, beginning and

745 Menelaus attributes Eidothea’s action to the goddess being ‘moved’ in her heart: τῇ γάρ ῥα μάλιστά γε θυμὸν ὄρινα (Od. 4.366). The verb ὀρίνω may be used metaphorically to suggest emotion, e.g. at Il 2.142, LSJ s.v. ὀρίνω, I. 746 Dufner (1988) 191. 747 A.R. 4.1414. 748 A.R. 4.1423-6 (the oasis); the Argonauts’ dangerous thirst is emphasized at 4.1393-5 and 1415-18. 749 A.R. 4.1422. 750 AT 313. 751 A.R. 4.1408-9. Here, Hunter (2015) 271 notes, the narrative pace increases: Jason and his men appear suddenly (ἄφνω, ἐσσυμένως, 1408), and are earlier likened to raging dogs (λυσσαλέοις …᾿ ἴκελοι κυσὶν, 1393), surely an indication of the frenzy in which they come upon the nymphs, all of which contributes to the nymphs’ reaction and equally fast (αἶψα) transformation in response. 752 A.R. 4.1427-30.

175 ending with the original shape.753 Furthermore, that the transformation process itself is rapid (αἶψα), and occurs in three separate nymphs (with their tree transformations listed sequentially) creates an impression comparable to that of Proteus in Odyssey 4. The nymphs can change shape multiple times, as well as affect the landscape around them; they can do so quickly; and their first transformation is in response to a perceived threat. They are even more responsive to mortals than Proteus, however, as their second and third transformations (and the creation of the spring) are also in response to approaches by a mortal, this time Orpheus. Apollonius’ Hesperides thus occupy a double role in the Argonautica; they internally parallel the Libyan heroines and additionally act as a parallel to Eidothea in the Odyssey, and are themselves shapeshifters who transform in order to escape attack. Unlike Proteus, these shapeshifters need not be overcome by force, but persuaded to resume their original shape and provide aid.

Dufner argues that, as a result of the close parallel between the events of Argonautica 4 and Odyssey 4, the Argonauts are in that part of the epic associated with Menelaus’ nostos, rather than with Odysseus’, although she does not suggest this presents a problem with the depiction of the Odyssey in this Book of Apollonius’ epic.754 Rather, I suggest, by connecting Jason’s adventures in Libya with Menelaus’ on Pharos, the poet strengthens the parallels between Jason and Odysseus; Menelaus is in several regards an analogue for Odysseus within the Odyssey, and – through connection with this hero’s nostos – Jason too becomes a further analogue, connected with Odysseus by a new, additional parallel. Through this, Apollonius is able to develop the depiction of his shapeshifting Hesperides such that while resembling Proteus and being clearly modelled on his example in Odyssey 4, their behaviour and shapeshifting surpass the expections of such figures seen, for instance, in Pindar’s depiction of Thetis and Dionysus’ transformations in the Homeric Hymn.

This connection shows the wide-reaching diachronic impact of Proteus’ episode, and the significance with which it must have been received by later authors and audiences – the shapeshifting role remains intact while Apollonius

753 Livrea (1973) 404 suggests that ἔμπεδον ‘delinea la nitidezza della nuova apparizione umana dopo la metamorfosi’; and that this is suggestive of a divine epiphany (404; see 251 on v.854). 754 Dufner (1988) 194-5.

176 adapts the themes surrounding it to fit his epic. Similarly, the themes and motifs contained in Menelaus’ meeting with Proteus carry ramifications within the Odyssey itself; these parallels are woven into the poem as a whole, leading to the development of characterisation and narrative patterns, and thus affect the audience’s understanding of certain events. Determining the intratexual significance of Proteus’ shapeshifting episode within the Odyssey will be our next focus.

ii. A shapeshifting prophet

The first, and perhaps most apparent of the structural resemblances involving Proteus is the presentation of the sea god as an analogue for Tiresias and Nestor. After being defeated in his transformation sequence, the shapeshifter acts as a guide and prophet, informing Menelaus about his future and the nostoi of other Trojan heroes.755 In this role, Proteus parallels Tiresias, as has been widely noted.756 The use of νημερτής in Proteus’ epithet links the two figures,757 as the prophet uses this word to describe the truthfulness of his account to Odysseus (τὰ δέ τοι νημερτέα εἴρω).758 Both Odysseus and Menelaus receive a truthful account of their homeward journey, along with advice on how to placate the animosity of other gods, although of the two only Tiresias gives his advice willingly. Additionally, like Menelaus, Odysseus is required to travel to a liminal and supernatural location in order to question Tiresias. Both Proteus’ shore and the opening to the underworld that Odysseus visits are physically far away,759 and both heroes are aided in reaching the location by a divine female figure, Eidothea and Circe respectively.760

755 Od. 4.491-569. 756 Hunter (2014) 154 describes Tiresias as Proteus’ closest analogue; West (1988) ad 4.384ff suggests that discrepancies here between the information Menelaus requests and which he receives ‘betrays the use of Odysseus’ consultation of Tiresias as the model for this episode’. de Jong (2001) 266-8 and 271-2 discusses the similarities of these episodes and provides a side- by-side analysis of the structural resemblances. 757 E.g. Od. 4.439. 758 Od. 11.137. 759 Od. 4.356-7; 11.11-12. 760 Plass (1969) 104. Eidothea alternatively parallels Circe and Leucothea, although, unlike Circe in her treatment of Odysseus, Eidothea does not seek to hold Menelaus back from his nostos.

177 This connection does not, however, call Tiresias’ testimony into question: although Proteus employs trickery in order to attempt his escape, as discussed above,761 this does not undermine the reliability of his account, but rather lends a prophetic aspect to Proteus’ speech, a characteristic which is elsewhere attributed to Nereus, Proteus’ double in many ways. In the Theogony, Nereus appears in Proteus’ place: this γέρων is described as ἀψευδής and νημερτής,762 yet unlike Proteus who is characterised in the Odyssey by his (potentially) dangerous tricks and wiles, Nereus appears truly benevolent, both truthful and kind (νημερτής τε καὶ ἤπιος), and governed by θέμις.763 Removed from the context of a transformation cycle, it seems, the ‘Old Man of the Sea’ may more closely resemble Tiresias in his intention and benevolence. The use of ἀψευδής in fact further links Nereus (and, by extension, Proteus) to Tiresias, as it suggests the truthfulness of prophecy.764

iii. Parallel with Nestor

However, the use of νημερτής to describe Proteus, the quest to reach him, and the process of questioning in relation to one’s home or family members not only link Proteus to Tiresias; they can also be identified in Telemachus’ visit to Nestor in Odyssey 3, although this takes place in the human realm rather than the fantastic locations of Proteus or Tiresias. Here, in search of news of his father’s return to Ithaca, Telemachus leaves his home and sets out on a journey, through which he is aided by a goddess (Athene, although she is in disguise), and finds answers from a

761 See chapter 2.2.ii. 762 Hes. Th. 233-6. As Scully (2018) 88 discusses, ἀψευδής is a rare term only used here in the Hesiodic corpus, and the poet compounds his characterisation of Nereus as truthful with the echoing of ἀληθέα / λήθεται in 233 and 236; Nereus is thus contrasted with the children of Eris, cf. Pucci (1977) 23-4, West (1966) ad 233. 763 Nereus is also described in relation to δίκη, an uncommon term in the Theogony and one which Clay (2016) 24-5 suggests is related to his connection to humankind through his role as Halios Gerōn. 764 A.Ch.559; A.Th.26. Conversely – and somewhat jarringly – these words also link Nereus to Hermes, who at h.Merc. 369 describes himself in similar terms when attempting to convince Zeus of his innocence: νημερτής τε γάρ εἰμι καὶ οὐκ οἶδα ψεύδεσθαι. Here, the use of this phrase heightens the sense of dramatic irony as the audience are aware of the careful crafting of Hermes’ speech, in which he largely does not lie, but manipulates his speech to feign innocence, concealing the truth by using technically true statements (i.e. that he did not cross the threshold, 380). See Fletcher (2008) 21, Richardson (2010) ad 368-9.

178 man who is unfailingly honest (ψεῦδος δ᾽ οὐκ ἐρέει)765 to whose land he travels for the encounter. I suggest that this connection is in some ways even stronger than that between Proteus and Tiresias, as even the theme of disguise which is essential to Menelaus’ capture of Proteus is found here in Athene’s presence – although Telemachus goes openly to Nestor’s palace, the goddess conceals herself in the disguise of his companion, much as Menelaus and his men conceal themselves among Proteus’ seals. Moreover, Nestor and his sons are found by the sea (ἐπὶ θινὶ θαλάσσης), sacrificing to Poseidon,766 and their interaction takes place in this liminal location, as does that between Proteus and Menelaus.

This is not to suggest that either Nestor or Tiresias is a trickster-figure, but rather to illustrate the wider narrative significance of Proteus’ role, and the development from this model which occurs in his transformation episode. Proteus is distinguished from Nestor, who exists in the natural, ‘human’ world of the Odyssey, and Tiresias, who inhabits an otherworldly realm and relates superhuman knowledge, yet operates nonetheless under the ‘rules’ governing human interaction in this realm, which state that anyone who approaches and drinks the blood provided must tell the truth, again signalled by νημερτής.767

Furthermore, that Telemachus is Odysseus’ son strengthens this link between Menelaus and Odysseus (generated by the parallels discussed above), as this theme of discovery occurs twice in relation to Odysseus’ nostos. Plass suggests that the tales of the various Trojan heroes’ nostoi are divided between Books 3 and 4 in order to allow for Menelaus to supplement Nestor’s account,768 yet while this is certainly the case, it must be noted that it is in effect Proteus who supplements Nestor’s account, particularly since Menelaus relates Proteus’ account in direct speech (ὁ δέ μ᾽ αὐτίκ᾽ ἀμειβόμενος προσέειπεν) in a manner parallel to the narrator giving voice to Menelaus.769 This generates a further link between these two ‘unerring’ figures, who together provide Telemachus with the information he seeks.770 The questioning of a prophetic figure, marked by the use of νημερτής, here

765 Od. 3.20. West (1988) ad 3.19-20 reads ψεῦδος here as deliberate lies, rather than misinformation. 766 Od. 3.5-6. 767 Anyone allowed to approach will, like Tiresias, speak the truth (νημερτὲς ἐνίψει), although this need not be prophetic in nature: Od. 11.145-8. 768 Plass (1969) 106. 769 Od. 4.471. 770 Alden (2017) 154.

179 generates a model with expectations for the audience of Book 11: the tale of Odysseus’ nostos, hinted at and begun by Nestor and Proteus,771 will fully be revealed to the audience when Odysseus himself asks a seer (also νημερτής) for information.

iv. Trickery in the Odyssean context

Proteus therefore occupies a narrative role which contains echoes of several other characters in the epic and appears in various iterations. Yet, as well as providing information and paralleling Tiresias and Nestor, Proteus is, additionally, a trickster- figure, and as such must also be read against the Odyssean – and indeed, the wider mythic – backdrop of Odysseus as a Trickster, This approach complements my analysis in chapter 2.2 of the appearance of trickery motifs in shapeshifting episodes; my discussion will focus on Odysseus largely as he is portrayed in the Homeric epics and in the fragments of the epic cycle.772

Odysseus’ intelligence is, Stanford notes, a feature of both the Iliad and the Odyssey, although his depiction as a Trickster – or, rather, one who relies on the tools of a Trickster – is more apparent in the Odyssey as when the hero is ‘among monsters, magicians, and usurpers’, rather than in the company of his fellow martial heroes, as martial etiquette no longer applies.773 Despite this martial etiquette, Odysseus’ propensity for this sort of behaviour is pointed to in the Iliad during the Doloneia – Odysseus is the only appropriate companion for Diomedes on such a mission.774 But it is especially during the Odyssey that Odysseus’ role as a Trickster is fully explored in exotic places and in meetings with magical or supernatural beings and places. Just as Proteus may appear in Egypt, signalling a fantasy aspect of the mortal world, Odysseus, confronted with fantasy realms and supernatural adversaries throughout his nostos, may fully embody the folktale role

771 Plass (1969) 106 notes that Telemachus learns very little about Odysseus’ journey, but it is natural that Menelaus’ request for information would largely be rewarded with hints of his own future, just as Odysseus’ predominantly concerns his position in Ithaca. 772 For discussion on Odysseus’ depiction beyond these texts see Montiglio’s (2011) work on the ‘polymorphic’ (3) Odysseus (a description which is particularly apt for my consideration of the interaction between Proteus and Odysseus) and Marincola (2007). 773 Stanford (1954) 14-5. 774 Il. 10.242-5.

180 of the Trickster which is largely presented as a positive quality in the epic, tied as it is to Odysseus’ ability to endure and overcome hardship.

Unlike Proteus, however, a Trickster-god betrayed by a female goddess, Odysseus is a mortal Trickster continually helped by Athene. The goddess herself remarks, on meeting Odysseus in Book 13, on their shared skills and thus the reasons for her support of Odysseus:

σχέτλιε, ποικιλομῆτα, δόλων ἆτ᾽, οὐκ ἄρ᾽ ἔμελλες, οὐδ᾽ ἐν σῇ περ ἐὼν γαίῃ, λήξειν ἀπατάων μύθων τε κλοπίων, οἵ τοι πεδόθεν φίλοι εἰσίν. ἀλλ᾽ ἄγε, μηκέτι ταῦτα λεγώμεθα, εἰδότες ἄμφω κέρδε᾽, ἐπεὶ σὺ μέν ἐσσι βροτῶν ὄχ᾽ ἄριστος ἁπάντων βουλῇ καὶ μύθοισιν, ἐγὼ δ᾽ ἐν πᾶσι θεοῖσι μήτι τε κλέομαι καὶ κέρδεσιν·775

In this passage, Athene remarks on their shared propensity for ‘crafts’ (κέρδε᾽), placing each of them as the best of their peers in this regard. Clearly, this comment is not intended as a rebuke, but rather shows Athene’s affection for the hero and suggests the basis for their close relationship;776 in fact, Athene herself delights in her ability to trick Odysseus, as she employs yet another disguise when meeting him. The goddess’ assertion of her disguise’s success (οὐδὲ σύ γ᾽ ἔγνως / Παλλάδ᾽ Ἀθηναίην)777 further emphasises the similarity of these two figures, as it echoes Odysseus’ taunting of Polyphemus in Book 9 and his all-too-eager revelation of his identity.778 However, as a goddess and perhaps particularly as a figure knowledgeable in κέρδεα herself, Athene does not make mistakes in revealing herself, and she cannot be tricked by Odysseus; her successful disguise here emphasises the distance in their relative abilities.

Moreover, it is not only their mutual love of crafty tricks which makes Athene the most appropriate divine accomplice for Odysseus; she complements Odysseus’ propensity for disguise and transformation by being a ‘craftsman’ of

775 Od. 13.123-9. 776 Montiglio (2011) 11 calls Athene’s comment ‘highly complimentary’ and discusses passim the negative reaction to these attributes in tragedy. See Stanford (1957) 35 for a comparison of Athene’s relationship with Odysseus to that of Thetis with Achilles in the Iliad. 777 Od. 13.299-30. 778 Od. 5.502-5.

181 sorts herself, and thus enabling Odysseus to go beyond the normal limits of a human Trickster, for instance in Book 6:

ὡς δ᾽ ὅτε τις χρυσὸν περιχεύεται ἀργύρῳ ἀνὴρ ἴδρις, ὃν Ἥφαιστος δέδαεν καὶ Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη τέχνην παντοίην, χαρίεντα δὲ ἔργα τελείει, ὣς ἄρα τῷ κατέχευε χάριν κεφαλῇ τε καὶ ὤμοις.779

In this regard, Odysseus and Proteus exist on opposite sides, so to speak, of a narrative pattern: Proteus, the Trickster, is out-tricked by Menelaus aided by a goddess, while Odysseus’ deceptive skill, improved by Athena, is used to deceive others.

a. Transformations

Proteus’ ‘trick’ of transformation, however, is not the only element characteristic of a Trickster figure to be found in his shapeshifting episode. While the sea-god actually transforms into his various shapes, this may be read as a form of disguise, particularly in the Odyssean context, and we may classify Menelaus’ hiding under the seal skin in the same way. Throughout the Odyssey and indeed his wider mythology, Odysseus adopts various disguises and quasi-transformations, and continually tricks or deceives people he encounters, both strangers and members of his family.780 This side of his character is most notable, perhaps, at moments of heightened emotion, such as, for instance, when Odysseus, seeing his father for the first time, decides to test him with ‘mocking words’ (κερτομίοις ἐπέεσσιν), rather than reveal his identity:

μερμήριξε δ᾽ ἔπειτα κατὰ φρένα καὶ κατὰ θυμὸν κύσσαι καὶ περιφῦναι ἑὸν πατέρ᾽, ἠδὲ ἕκαστα εἰπεῖν, ὡς ἔλθοι καὶ ἵκοιτ᾽ ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν, ἦ πρῶτ᾽ ἐξερέοιτο ἕκαστά τε πειρήσαιτο. ὧδε δέ οἱ φρονέοντι δοάσσατο κέρδιον εἶναι, πρῶτον κερτομίοις ἐπέεσσιν πειρηθῆναι.781

779 Od. 6.232-5. 780 As de Jong (2001) 170-172 notes, Odysseus’ identity is repeatedly withheld, often without explanation from the narrator, allowing for the Homeric narrator’s frequent use of ‘delayed recognition’, a motif contrary to the typical Homeric hero’s pride in past deeds and concern for recognition and kleos. See Baragwanath (2008) 43. 781 Od. 24.235-40.

182 In light of Anticleia’s words to Odysseus in Book 11, this is rather shocking. Anticleia tells Odysseus that she died as a result of missing him, and that his father was suffering the same anguish;782 Odysseus exhibits genuine emotion, as shown by his desire to embrace her,

τρὶς μὲν ἐφωρμήθην, ἑλέειν τέ με θυμὸς ἀνώγει, τρὶς δέ μοι ἐκ χειρῶν σκιῇ εἴκελον ἢ καὶ ὀνείρῳ ἔπτατ᾽. ἐμοὶ δ᾽ ἄχος ὀξὺ γενέσκετο κηρόθι μᾶλλον.783

Despite this, and although Odysseus considers embracing (κύσσαι καὶ περιφῦναι) his father, it seems that here Odysseus cannot – or will not – resist his role as a Trickster.784 However, these events are chronologically distanced by Odysseus’ ten- year stay with Calypso, the majority of his enmity with Poseidon and his encounter with the suitors. It may be, therefore, that the audience are here given an insight into the effect Odysseus’ prolonged nostos has had on the hero. While the Odysseus of Book 11 is certainly able to employ modes of disguise and deception when needed, such as in his deception of Polyphemus (although, of course, this feigned identity is too short-lived), by the end of his nostos, it seems, Odysseus has consciously (κατὰ φρένα καὶ κατὰ θυμόν) internalised the role of the Trickster. His tendency towards deception shows an unwillingness to give away his identity, whether to a family member or an enemy.785 Perhaps such a prolonged time disguised results in the loss of Odysseus’ identity in favour of that of the Trickster which underlies his character throughout the epic. Here, I suggest, is another parallel with Proteus’ shapeshifting episode: like Odysseus by the end of his nostos, Proteus cannot resist his transformation – which figures as an attempted denial of

782 Od. 11.195-7, 202-3: ἔνθ᾽ ὅ γε κεῖτ᾽ ἀχέων, μέγα δὲ φρεσὶ πένθος ἀέξει / σὸν νόστον ποθέων, χαλεπὸν δ᾽ ἐπὶ γῆρας ἱκάνει. / οὕτω γὰρ καὶ ἐγὼν ὀλόμην καὶ πότμον ἐπέσπον: […] ἀλλά με σός τε πόθος σά τε μήδεα, φαίδιμ᾽ Ὀδυσσεῦ, / σή τ᾽ ἀγανοφροσύνη μελιηδέα θυμὸν ἀπηύρα. Cf. de Jong (2001) 280-1. 783 Od. 11.206-8. Stanford (1954) 61. 784 de Jong (2001) 577-8 terms this an ‘indirect deliberation’ scene, suggesting that the formula emphasises how close Odysseus is to revealing himself instead of waiting for recognition; however, this does not undermine the discrepancy between this meeting and that with Anticleia earlier. 785 Baragwanath (2008) 43 suggests that while earlier instances of Odysseus’ concealment of his identity are depicted as being from necessity, this is certainly not the case with Laertes and therefore Odysseus’ reluctance to reveal himself invites the audience to consider whether Odysseus has indeed lost some ability to identify himself, or whether this simply shows this side of his character, in which case we may reconsider his earlier actions and wonder whether his concealment ‘may have had a gratuitous aspect to it all along’. Stanford (1954) 23 notes that Odysseus’ suspicion of offers from help from Athene, Calypso and Leucothea may result from his prolonged journey deceiving others, and thus is part of his heritage from Autolycus.

183 his identity and his very function in the narrative – and while Odysseus is several times disguised by Athena, it is of the hero’s own accord that he hides his identity from his father.

On the other hand, the story of Odysseus’ meeting with Anticleia and the emphasis on his feeling for his mother occurs as part of Odysseus’ embedded narrative given to the Phaeacians. Here, it is in Odysseus’ interest to appear as a sympathetic and trustworthy man; Arete is among his audience, and this encounter with Anticleia occurs immediately prior to the catalogue of women.786 We may therefore read Odysseus’ eagerness to be recognised as – at least to some extent – a narrative device employed by Odysseus in his role as the internal narrator, a display of emotion which may be intended to bring out sympathetic maternal feelings in Arete.787

Elsewhere, the malleability of Odysseus’ self-portrayal is well-established, and irrevocably linked to his role as a trickster. Odysseus’ propensity for disguise and trickery does not arise only during his nostos, but was also a key part of his character prior to the Trojan war, as he sought to avoid his commitment to fighting for Helen’s retrieval by feigning madness – a story which appears both in the Cypria and in Cassandra’s address to Odysseus in Lycophron’s Alexandra.788 In this myth, Odysseus’ ‘true nature’, i.e. that of a cunning and sane man, is revealed under duress, as by threatening Telemachus’ safety, Palamedes outwits Odysseus.789 This deception is the opposite of Proteus’ then, as the sea-god’s ‘trick’ is caused by the duress of being seized, yet these episodes still resemble one another in that a cunning or wily ‘Trickster’ (Odysseus/Proteus) is caught out in his trick, outwitted by a lesser cunning figure (Palamedes/Menelaus).

Proteus’ transformation cycle in the Odyssey therefore renders this sea-god a parallel to Odysseus in several ways – neither is willing to share their knowledge or identity, and neither Proteus nor, by the end of his travels, Odysseus can resist their attempts at deception. As Athene remarks to Odysseus,

786 de Jong (2001) 282, 285. 787 On Odysseus’ ‘catalogue’ as ehoie poetry, see Ziogas (2013) 9-11, Tsagalis (2009) 166. 788 Lyc. 817ff; Cypria Arg. 5b: μαίνεσθαι προσποιησάμενον Ὀδυσσέα ἐπὶ τῶι μὴ θέλειν συστρατεύεσθαι ἐφώρασαν. 789 Cypria Arg. 5b: τὸν υἱὸν Τηλέμαχον ἐπὶ κόλασιν ἐξαρπάσαντε.

184 οὐκ ἄρ᾽ ἔμελλες, οὐδ᾽ ἐν σῇ περ ἐὼν γαίῃ, λήξειν ἀπατάων μύθων τε κλοπίων, οἵ τοι πεδόθεν φίλοι εἰσίν.790

However, Proteus’ inability to deceive once defeated at once strongly distinguishes the god from Odysseus and ties him even more closely to the figures of Nestor and Tiresias; these three figures complement one another’s narratives and allow for the gradual revelation of Odysseus’ nostos, while also detailing the various adventures of other Trojan heroes.

b. Self-restraint and endurance

Finally, I suggest one further parallel which may be at play in the close narrative ties between Proteus and Odysseus, and which is linked to another central aspect of Odysseus’ character – his ability to endure suffering,791 established from the poem’s outset by the external narrator (πολλὰ δ᾽ ὅ γ᾽ ἐν πόντῳ πάθεν ἄλγεα ὃν κατὰ θυμόν, 1.4) and echoed by Odysseus himself.792 This presentation continues throughout the Odyssey, where, as Silvia Montiglio discusses, the verbal root τλα- carries the double meaning of ‘daring’ and ‘enduring’.793 Despite his desire for fame and kleos,794 the hero must repeatedly disguise himself, wearing, for instance, beggar’s clothing.795 Certainly this aspect of his role draws in part from his depiction as a Trickster, as discussed above, but it nonetheless points to a conflict between these two sides of his character as the epic’s protagonist. Similarly, a central point of Proteus’ appearance in the epic and his role as a shapeshifting holder of knowledge is his act of enduring Menelaus’ hold. While his transformations indicate a show of force and aggression as a mode of self-defence (see chapter 1.2), Proteus is in no way the aggressor, nor do we receive any indication that he physically attacks Menelaus in retaliation. Rather, his purpose is to escape Menelaus by enduring his hold in a variety of forms intended to provoke

790 Od. 13.293-5. 791 See Peradotto (1990). 792 E.g. 6.173: ὄφρ᾽ ἔτι που καὶ τῇδε πάθω κακόν, cf. 9.53: ἵν᾽ ἄλγεα πολλὰ πάθοιμεν. 793 Montiglio (2011) 11. 794 As evidenced, for example, in Odysseus’ revelation of his name to Polyphemus, which functions as a desire for his story to be passed on to a future audience and thus identifies Odysseus with the narrator. Peirano (2013) 261. 795 See e.g. de Jong (2001) 170-2.

185 the hero to let go. Like Odysseus’ endurance of wearing disguises which cause him to be disregarded and insulted by other characters,796 this endurance does not necessarily entail a passive acquiescence to the situation, but the characters’ shared ability to resist under outside pressure and the acts of others.

v. Sea as opponent

Next, this chapter will discuss the portrayal of the sea or water as an opponent in the Odyssey’s main and secondary narratives as an essential part of the epic’s structure. The sea is, of course, of the utmost importance to the overall narrative of the Odyssey as Odysseus must travel across the sea and between islands in order to reach Ithaca, and he and his men are faced with the near constant threat of failing in their nostos either through being stranded on an island (surrounded and isolated by water) or by shipwreck at sea, a fate which is actualised after the consumption of Helios’ sacred cattle.797 Menelaus, too, is stranded on an island and prevented from returning home when he meets Proteus, an embodiment of the sea, who transforms temporarily into ὑγρὸν ὕδωρ. If, as I suggested in chapter 1.2, ὑγρὸν ὕδωρ is indeed intended to recall the sea, the transformation and Menelaus’ struggle with Proteus in this form thus recalls an aspect of Odysseus’ journey in miniature. Menelaus must literally battle the sea, as Odysseus and his crew must ‘fight’ against adverse sailing conditions throughout their journey.

However, as a sea deity, Proteus stands in for Poseidon,798 as each god aims to prevent the hero from achieving their respective aim. Proteus’ transformation into water particularly cements this connection. Odysseus must overcome water in the form of the sea which is therefore beyond human scope or full understanding, while Menelaus in effect need only physically hold on to one small part of this through Proteus’ transformation, but Proteus’ ὑγρὸν ὕδωρ stands metonymically for the sea as a whole. Their situations are therefore reversed here, as Odysseus is repeatedly restrained from his nostos, held back by the sea through Poseidon’s enmity, while Menelaus is the one to hold the ‘sea’ as represented by Proteus. This

796 E.g. by Irus (18.26-7) and Melantho (18.327-36). 797 Od. 12.327-63. 798 The connection between these deities is not limited to this however, but Proteus is described as Poseidon’s ὑποδμώς (Od. 4.386), strikingly a hapax word in Homer: West (1988) ad loc.

186 structural parallel between Odysseus' and Menelaus' nostoi is further strengthened by the aid each receives from a female deity related to the offended sea god: Athene continually helps Odysseus throughout the epic, while Eidothea, Proteus' daughter, both leads Menelaus to Proteus and helps him to defeat the god.799

Moreover, while Menelaus' struggle is on a lesser scale to that of Odysseus, and there are several differences between the two,800 there are further structural parallels and oppositions at play between this encounter and Poseidon's antagonism towards Odysseus. Odysseus, the external third-person narrator remarks, was pitied by all the gods except Poseidon, who raged against him at length – the imperfect μενέαινεν indicating the length of time.801 Menelaus, on the other hand, is pitied only by Eidothea and forced to remain in Egypt for the comparatively short period of twenty days by ‘the gods’ as a whole (ἔνθα μ᾽ ἐείκοσιν ἤματ᾽ ἔχον θεοί),802 and attacks Proteus – a deity presumably unrelated to his imprisonment – in order to regain his freedom. Unlike Odysseus, Menelaus only encounters his sea god-opponent on one occasion.803 However, the many forms that Proteus assumes during their encounter reflect Odysseus' multiple struggles against Poseidon, and thus the two antagonistic relationships parallel one another. Proteus’ water transformation therefore reflects not only the shapeshifter’s connection to water, but carries its own wealth of associations which emphasise the god’s transformative powers. The transformation also allows for development of these structural and thematic parallels in the narrative, rendering Menelaus’ encounter with this deity comparable to Poseidon’s antagonism toward Odysseus.

As an opponent, then, Proteus exists in parallel to Poseidon and reflects Odysseus’ struggle with the sea, thus solidifying the connection between these two heroes of the Trojan War – a connection which affects the anxiety surrounding Odysseus’ apparent connection with Agamemnon. Menelaus’ closeness to Odysseus allows for the Spartan king to act as an alternative model for Odysseus’

799 Eidothea is further paralleled by Leucothea, who appears to Odysseus at 5.333-53: West (1988) ad 4.365-6. 800 I.e., in Menelaus' confrontation, the mortal is the aggressor who actively seeks out the encounter; the god attempts rather to flee than to kill or even injure his opponent; and, as stated above, Menelaus' struggle is one which is possible for a human to overcome, 801 Od. 1.19-21. 802 Od. 4.360. 803 Cf. Poseidon's aggression throughout the Odyssey, which therefore lasts a far greater extent of time.

187 homecoming to Agamemnon. While Orestes’ actions feature as a possible exemplum for Telemachus, Menelaus’ successful return home and similarity to Odysseus lends weight to the advice for Telemachus to discover Odysseus’ fate and not to act hastily.804

vi. Narratological parallels

Further parallels can be identified between Proteus’ episode in Odyssey 4 and the rest of the narrative, through the narrative methods employed. The connection between Proteus and Poseidon through their interactions with Menelaus and Odysseus respectively is strengthened by the manner of narration in each episode; this is crucial to the link between Menelaus’ encounter with Proteus and Odysseus’ encounter with Polyphemus and enmity with Poseidon, as each mortal-god conflict is presented in the epic as an embedded narrative spoken by the mortal first person narrator-focaliser at a later time – Odysseus to Alcinous, Menelaus to Telemachus. As with the parallel between each hero’s encounter with the ‘sea’, there is an inversion here in the reversal of the guest and host roles. Menelaus narrates his story while hosting Telemachus; his narrative is told from the point of view of having succeeded in his nostos and found his way back home. Odysseus, on the other hand, is a guest of the Phaeacians, and therefore – while safe in their land – in the less stable and desirable position of being dependent on his audience. In light of the Odyssey’s fascination with hospitality and the roles of guests and hosts,805 it seems natural that this divide would be used to subvert the links between Menelaus and Odysseus in this way; by drawing attention to their similarities the poet simultaneously emphasises the discrepancy between their nostoi in their roles as secondary narrators.

804 See Alden (2017). 805 Cf. Odysseus’ repeated desire to learn whether those he visits are ὑβρισταί τε καὶ ἄγριοι οὐδὲ δίκαιοι, / ἦε φιλόξεινοι, Od. 6.120-1 = 9.175-6. See, e.g. Bakker (2013) 26, Hutchinson (2007) 25.

188 vii. Proteus and Polyphemus

As discussed above, there are striking parallels between the events of Books 4 and 9, to which I shall now briefly return in order to explore the connections which arise between Proteus, Polyphemus, Menelaus and Odysseus. Both Menelaus and Odysseus intrude on a largely solitary supernatural being’s land and attack him; in both instances, the supernatural being attacked is an anthropomorphic shepherd linked to Poseidon who also displays monstrous characteristics (although these are more violent and horrific in Polyphemus’ case); and finally, both encounters depend on a trick or tricks in some way related to the shepherd’s animals.

As we have seen, in order for Menelaus to ‘capture’ Proteus, the hero must himself trick Proteus using a seal’s carcass as a disguise, a plan which devised by Eidothea, Proteus’ daughter, and which therefore consists of a familial betrayal. This plan is explicitly described as a trick (δόλον δ᾽ ἐπεμήδετο πατρί).806 Thus while there is a physical aspect of this encounter, in that Menelaus must physically restrain Proteus, the struggle does not rely on typical combat but instead deception is required to overcome the shapeshifter. Through this action, Menelaus is again linked to Odysseus. The heroes are, at the time of their encounters with Proteus and Polyphemus, at similar stages in their nostoi, and although the ‘trick’ here is Eidothea’s, Menelaus is the one to carry it out – thus momentarily stepping into the role of a Trickster himself. The audience is reminded of this distinction in Book 9, as Polyphemus calls to his fellow Cyclopes: Οὖτίς με κτείνει δόλῳ οὐδὲ βίηφιν.807 Neither Menelaus nor Odysseus is able to defeat their foe with brute force alone: Polyphemus is too strong and Odysseus will not escape without his unwitting aid in unblocking the cave, while Proteus has abilities beyond Menelaus’ understanding and must be caught unawares. Neither Proteus nor Polyphemus, furthermore, is able to recognise the trick used against him, but Proteus – unlike Polyphemus – is a Trickster himself, and can respond with his own crafty skills (δολίης … τέχνης)808 of transformation.

806 Od. 4.437; again at 452-3. West (1988) ad loc. notes the resemblance to Odysseus’ in Book 9, which is part of a wider pattern of animal disguise found in folktale, ST K1823. 807 Od. 9.408. 808 Od. 4.455.

189 However, Polyphemus is additionally linked to Odysseus through his lion simile; the Cyclops eats like a lion (ἤσθιε δ᾽ ὥς τε λέων ὀρεσίτροφος)809 and the two figures are thus paralleled through this horrific act, a connection which may foreshadow Odysseus’ later treatment of the suitors.810 This connection is to some extent problematic, as through this simile the connection between Proteus and Polyphemus is further strengthened – both appear like lions (albeit in different ways) when their home is invaded by a mortal. Such a link also serves to remind the audience of Odysseus’ dual position within the narrative; he is an invader (as Menelaus invades Proteus’ dwelling),811 yet his own home is all the while being exploited by the suitors, and it is this aspect which a connection to Proteus, via Polyphemus, emphasises.

As it comes first in the epic, Menelaus’ interaction with Proteus sets up expectations for the audience when Odysseus and his men meet Polyphemus; the result is a jarring leap between the violence hinted at in Proteus’ transformations and Polyphemus’ bloody assault on Odysseus’ men. The anthropophagy of Book 9 is a further extension of this; however, although Proteus seems either unable or unwilling to attack Menelaus and his men, we may find a hint of this potential in his animal transformations. As discussed, Proteus’ animal forms are all potentially dangerous, threatening creatures, rich in epic symbolism. The lion in particular, however, is often associated with omophagy;812 while this is does not necessarily entail cannibalism, it does carry associations of a lack of civilisation and Proteus’ lion form, if read in this way, points forward to Polyphemus’ anthropophagy.

There is therefore a range of associations which link Proteus to a variety of other characters in the Odyssey; the sea-god is paralleled by Tiresias, Nestor and even Odysseus himself. His multiform nature is reflected in his role in the text; he is both Trickster and victim.

809 Od. 9.292. 810 See Magrath (1982) 208-10. 811 E.g. his invasion of the Cicones’ island, Od. 9.39-66. 812 E.g. Il. 11.113.

190 viii. Conclusion

Proteus’ role in the Odyssey presents, therefore, a wealth of intratextual associations within the poem’s narrative; he acts as a parallel to several characters, allowing for narrative patterns to emerge which lead to the eventual revelation of Odysseus’ nostos. As a potentially threatening shapeshifter, Proteus is inextricably linked to Poseidon and the ambivalence of water in the text, while as a Trickster he reflects aspects of Odysseus’ characterisation and embodiment of the Trickster archetype. Outside the Odyssey, wider associations in Proteus’ episode allow for Eidothea to parallel Thetis; this equivalence is further found in Book 4 of the Argonautica, in which the use of Odyssey 4 as a model is clear. Through this model, furthermore, Proteus’ role as a shapeshifter is expanded and developed, allowing for greater variation in the character type, whilst still staying true to the original model, the Odyssean Proteus.

191 3.2 Thetis’ inverted motherhood

An essential part of Thetis’ character and mythological role is her relationship with Achilles, and her role as a mother figure. In keeping with Thetis’ ambiguity of form, this characterisation is not straightforward, but is subverted in several ways. Thetis parallels Metis in the Theogony; both have the potential to bear a son who could overthrow his father,813 and while Metis’ potential motherhood is subverted by Zeus swallowing her and giving birth to Athene himself,814 Thetis’ potential is limited by her forced marriage to Peleus.815 From this, Thetis’ motherhood status is further subverted by the introduction of the motif in which she either aims to make Achilles immortal, and thus more like herself, or tests his mortality by placing him in a fire. This act is ambiguously presented, as I shall explore, and leads to contradictions within Thetis’ role as a mother. This motif is not limited to Thetis: Apollonius’ depiction mirrors and is perhaps modelled on Demeter’s attempt to make Demophoon immortal in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter;816 the motif additionally appears in a further removed form in Medea’s mythology. The child in the fire motif stems from a lack of belonging or of understanding, and as such I shall use the version as it is presented in the Homeric Hymn as a background upon which to compare the motif as it appears in Thetis’ mythology, including the reactions of other characters, and the effect it has on Thetis’ characterisation as both a mother figure and as a fluid, shapeshifting character. Thetis does not appear as a mother figure only in relation to Achilles. She also takes on this role in interactions with Hephaestus and Dionysus, two figures who are not related to her but to whom she offers safety in the sea and quasi-maternal care. Unlike Thetis’ relationship with Achilles, her immortality does not stand as a barrier here, as both Hephaestus and Dionysus are deities and, as I shall explore, similarly marginalised. This chapter, therefore, will be split into two parts: in the first, I shall explore the relationship of Thetis and Achilles with reference to the ‘child in the fire’ motif, and in comparison to other instantiations of this myth, and discuss the effect of Thetis’

813 Metis: Hes. Th. 886-900; Thetis: Pi. I. 8.31-6, A.R. 4.800-2. See West (1966) 401-2 on the various instantiations of this myth. 814 Thus himself becoming a kind of ‘mother’ figure. 815 A.R. 800-804. 816 Hornblower (2015) 163, Richardson (1974) 237.

192 fluid form. Secondly, I will discuss depictions of Thetis’ ‘motherly’ relationship with Hephaestus and Dionysus with relation to her status as a liminal character.

i. Thetis and Achilles

First, I shall compare the presentation of the act of making a child immortal in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter with that of Apollonius’ depiction of Thetis. Both instantiations of this myth can be broken down as follows: 1) the goddess (temporarily) leaves the society of her fellow deities to join a mortal family; 2) she attempts to make a male child immortal by feeding him ambrosia and placing him in a fire at night, without the knowledge of family members; 3) she is discovered in this act, physically casts the child away, and 4) leaves the mortal family. Within this shared structure, however, there are significant differences, and I will discuss the stories by considering each of these ‘events’ in turn.

The Hymn has Demeter angry at the loss of her child to Hades,817 with the result that she willingly isolates herself from the Olympians, and, disguising herself as a mortal, goes to the house of Metaneira as a nurse for her child, Demophoon. Thetis, on the other hand, is – in Apollonius’ version – forced to marry Peleus, a mortal for whom she expresses contempt,818 and thus leave the company of the Nereids. The mortal family she joins is her own, and yet, owing to their mortality, distanced from her. However, Thetis is similarly deprived of her child, albeit the potentially cosmic-challenging child she was fated to bear.819 In both episodes, the goddess is presented as an outsider, experiencing a lack of belonging and separation from her fellow gods,820 which arises through the loss of a child. These episodes represent an attempt to replace that child with the object of the motif; in the face of losing her child Persephone, Demeter attempts to make Demophoon immortal, whereas Thetis’ attempt to make Achilles immortal is, I suggest,

817 h.Cer. 90: ἄχος αἰνότερον καὶ κύντερον ἵκετο θυμόν. A variation on ἄχος αἰνός is only used elsewhere in the Hymns in describing Aphrodite’s anger at Anchises’ unworthiness as a husband (h.Ven. 198-9), perhaps suggesting that Demeter does not, as Ormand (2004) 314 suggests, stop questioning Persephone’s abduction, but is driven to her actions by dissatisfaction with Persephone’s ‘husband’, cf. Clay (1989) 221. 818 A.R. 4.863-4. 819 Achilles’ fate to die in the Trojan War renders this a double form of loss. 820 A serious position for a god, cf. Hes. Th. 793-805 and above, chapter 2.2.

193 precipitated by the ‘loss’ of her potential child before Achilles and is an attempt to replace this potential child.

Both goddesses act against the wishes of Zeus: Demeter in continuing to isolate herself and in refusing to accept Persephone’s marriage, and in her attempt to breach divine-mortal limits by making Demophoon immortal; Thetis in trying to defy Zeus’ nullification of her child’s potential which would allow for another divine succession to occur. These two versions are further linked by this potential subversion of Zeus’ power; not only would a child made immortal threaten Zeus’ cosmic order by blurring the divide between divinity and mortality,821 but Demophoon is also particularly fitting as a potential disruptor of Zeus’ order. He is the only male child of Metaneira, the last born, and he is πολυεύχετος, of great importance to his family;822 in this regard the situation of his birth mirrors, to some extent, that of Zeus, with the crucial distinction of his mortality. In attempting to remove this barrier, Demeter aims to subvert Zeus’ control, just as Thetis could effectively by recreating, through an immortalised Achilles, her fated, cosmically disruptive child. In Demeter’s case, this attempted attack on Zeus’ power is in keeping with the conflict and distribution of timai which Clay views as the central theme of each of the Hymns,823 and both goddesses are likely candidates for challenging and promoting succession as a result of being female.824 Demeter’s attempt recalls Hera’s plan to position Typhon as a rival to Zeus in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo,825 a parallel which carries into Apollonius’ depiction of Thetis in this role. In light of this, the poet’s choice of Thetis (and, by extension, Thetis’ role in other versions) seems to contradict another myth surrounding her relationship to Zeus – that is her rescue of Zeus when Hera, Poseidon, and Athene attempt to bind him.826 Apollonius would certainly have been aware of this myth,827 and in modelling his Thetis after Demeter – a character who overtly challenges the will of Zeus by her actions – Apollonius therefore places Thetis into a role incongruous with her underlying role in the Iliad and therefore challenges her earlier characterisation. Thetis is an appropriate choice for such a development; as a

821 See Clay (1989) 226. 822 h.Cer. 164-5, see Clay (1989) 232. 823 Clay (1989) 15. 824 Clay (1989) 13. 825 h.Ap. 305-54. 826 Il. 1.396-406. 827 Even if it was an invention by Homer, as Feeney (1991) 40 argues.

194 character linked to the sea and one with a propensity for transformation, she is sufficiently changeable for this apparent shift in her characterisation, and has the necessary qualities (potentially) to bring about what is essentially a form of metamorphosis in another.

In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, Demophoon grows δαίμονι ἶσος,828 like an immortal, over the period of days (or, rather, nights) in which Demeter places him in the fire, with the term ἠματίη suggesting a progression over time,829 one which is prodigious enough to provoke Metaneira’s suspicion.830 With regards to Thetis, however, Hornblower suggests that it is generally unclear whether or not Thetis’ spell would have worked.831 In Apollonius’ version, Thetis’ treatment of Achilles likewise occurs over a period of time (νύκτα…ἤματα)832 but the poet here makes no explicit mention of the child’s transformation or of any tangible results, detailing only Thetis’ intentions:

ὄφρα πέλοιτο ἀθάνατος καί οἱ στυγερὸν χροῒ γῆρας ἀλάλκοι.833

However, it is not only Thetis’ anger which may suggest the spell’s wasted potential;834 that Peleus is described as μέγα νήπιος for having interrupted Thetis, and is left distraught at her departure,835 seem to indicate the spell’s potential for success – if Peleus’ interruption was not essential to the story type. Thetis’ spell is shown to have an effect when Peleus discovers Thetis’ actions; he sees Achilles σπαίροντα,836 ‘gasping’, in the fire and, fearing for his son, interrupts her. The verb σπαίρω is commonly suggestive of the gasps of a dying creature,837 and is therefore

828 h.Cer. 235. 829 h.Cer. 237. 830 Clay (1989) 239. 831 Hornblower (2015) 163. 832 A.R. 4.870. 833 A.R. 4.871-2. Hunter (2015) 203 notes similarities in these lines to both the Hymn to Demeter and Aphrodite’s preservation of Hector’s body at Il. 23.185-7, suggesting that this is an example of Apollonius drawing together ‘to analogous, but actually very different, archaic models’ in his depiction. 834 Hornblower (2015) 163. 835 A.R. 4.866. 836 A.R. 4.874. 837 LSJ s.v. σπαίρω; and see also s.v. ἀσπαίρω, a cognate form which is used of dying heroes by Homer. Clay (1989) 243 notes that this verb also appears in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (289) and reads this as indicative of Demophoon’s imminent death. Here, however, the verb occurs after the child has been removed from the fire, and seems rather to indicate the danger of his separation from Demeter.

195 a pitiful image when associated with Peleus’ παῖδα φίλον Achilles.838 Peleus’ clear concern for his child creates pathos; in fact, his role is more clearly based on concern for Achilles’ well-being than Thetis’. This section is clearly focalised through the obviously fallible mortal point of view of Peleus, and thus he may simply be reacting incorrectly, supported by the narrator’s description of Peleus as μέγα νήπιος immediately following his interruption.839 However, in light of Apollonius’ close modelling of this narrative on the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, I argue that the use of σπαίροντα suggests Achilles’ gradual progression from mortal to immortal, and the death of his mortal self which is required to achieve this,840 indicating the spell’s efficacy. This is a further example of Thetis’ suitability for this motif; as a figure who is able to transform and who has been forced by Zeus to transgress divine-mortal boundaries, she appears to pass on this transformative power to her child. In making Achilles immortal she would reverse her loss of status (and that of her potential child) caused by marrying a mortal.

The two accounts are further linked by the theme of conflict with Zeus, which means that although both goddesses act as mothers in the narratives their actions concerning these children are not straightforwardly maternal. While Demophoon is not Demeter’s child, her actions indicate not only an attempt to make him immortal, but also to adopt him;841 this adoption is dependent on the child’s full immortalisation – when interrupted, Demeter physically rejects Demophoon, casting him to the ground (πέδονδε),842 a gesture which symbolises his return to mortality.843 Similarly, Thetis throws (βάλε)844 Achilles on the floor when interrupted, with the adverb ἁρπάγδην stressing the force of this action.845 Regardless of whether her spell itself might have been dangerous, her actions following Peleus’ interruption certainly are, and seem to contradict the presentation of Thetis’ desire for Achilles’ immortality as a concern for his life, rather than simply as a concern for his status to match hers. However, that

838 A.R. 4.874. 839 A.R. 4.875. 840 See also the description of Heracles’ apotheosis, S. Tr. 1193-9. In its connection to death this reading is in line with Lycophron’s presentation of this motif, which emphasises the destructive potential of Thetis’ actions: see pp.199-200. 841 Richardson (1974) 232. 842 h.Cer. 253. 843 h.Cer. 251-4, see Foley (2004) 51. 844 A.R. 4.876. 845 LSJ s.v. ἁρπάγδην.

196 Demeter’s actions are caused by grief at the loss of her daughter establishes both her suffering and her maternal instincts, linking her to Metaneira and mortal experience more broadly.846

Both goddesses carry out their attempts in secret, either unable or choosing not to share their plans with the mortal families, and, as exemplified in the moment of discovery, both episodes are concerned with the additional conflict caused by the inability of mortals to comprehend the plans of gods.847 In Thetis’ case, the issue of marriage is prominent, and her secrecy in attempting to transform Achilles emphasises the extent to which her status and ability as a deity act as a barrier in her marriage to Peleus. In attempting to make Achilles immortal she brings her son closer in status to her own as a deity and thus further removes him from his mortal father (whom she makes no effort to transform).848 It is therefore unsurprising that she hides these attempts from Peleus. As discussed above (chapter 1.1), Ormand aligns the metamorphoses of Thetis with those of Mestra and argues that female shapeshifters are somehow tamed and unable to metamorphose after marriage,849 yet it is clear from Thetis’ actions here and her subsequent anger at being discovered that she is far from a ‘tamed’ wife. Moreover, Thetis is at least still able to appear as a breeze (πνοιῇ ἰκέλη),850 and thus has not fully lost this capacity,851 even if she no longer undergoes multiple transformation episodes. It is Thetis who, prior to Peleus’ recollection of the immortalisation attempt, gives orders to Peleus

846 See Foley (1994) 89-90. 847 Clay (1989) 226. 848 We may compare Demeter’s attempt to adopt Demophoon and thus distance the child from his family entirely. See also Furley (1981) 72, who discusses the issues of having one divine parent, and the gender bias which occurs towards the male parent. An automatic association with the father explains Thetis’ actions and secrecy further. 849 Ormand (2004) 304, 324-5. While Ormand’s interpretation of Mestra’s mythology seems plausible, the conflation of female shape-shifters regardless of the circumstances of their transformation seems inappropriate given the differences between Mestra and Thetis, since even their transformation episodes do not truly parallel one another. Ormand bases his argument therefore on not only a conflation of these quite different characters (Mestra as subordinate to her father, Thetis as subordinate (but defiant) to Zeus; Mestra transforming on different occasions, and Thetis undergoing a series of transformations in one situation) but also on a lack of textual evidence for Thetis transforming, rather than evidence that she no longer can. Forbes Irving (1990) 172-3 similarly distinguishes Mestra from characters exhibiting a series of transformations. 850 A.R. 4.877, cf. Il. 1.359. 851 Furthermore, Thetis operates both in the sea, on land and on Olympus – it is natural to assume that these different environments would require different shapes (see, for example, Theoc. 11.54) and thus even if texts do not explicitly refer to Thetis transforming, this may be because they simply do not need to; it is to be assumed.

197 (albeit at Hera’s command);852 she is not subject to him in any regard, either in terms of status or their marriage. Her identity is not fixed following her marriage,853 with the result that she is able to abandon Achilles and Peleus – a family to whom she is much more strongly connected than Demeter is to Metaneira and Demophoon.

These instances are also linked by the reaction of the mortal family member; neither Peleus nor Metaneira is able to comprehend the goddesses’ actions, and while the audience sympathises with them, their reactions prove the impossibility of mortal understanding of what the goddesses are trying to achieve – once a family member has reacted the goddesses forgo their plan and abandon the children. The theme of discovery is crucial to the narrative; if able to replace Persephone with an immortal Demophoon, Demeter may not need to return to Olympus, and if Thetis were to recreate her child as immortal, the prophecy which Zeus had averted would again gain traction.

Therefore, by using Demeter as a model for Thetis, Apollonius expands upon the conflicts between Thetis and Zeus, Thetis and Peleus, and that of Thetis’ immortality with Achilles’ mortality, while developing and problematising Thetis’ portrayal as a mother figure. In linking her to Demeter, an overtly maternal figure and thus situating Thetis in this context, Apollonius challenges previous depictions of Thetis, while exploiting and emphasising her changeable nature (resulting from her connection to the sea and propensity for transformation); it is this which allows for her attempt to carry the possibility of success – indeed, owing to her own transformative powers, she is a more fitting challenger to Zeus’ authority than even Demeter. However, by aligning his Thetis with Demeter through this motif, Apollonius demonstrates the impossibility of the attempt; even Thetis, with her changeable nature and apparent attempt to pass this on to Achilles, cannot transgress divine-mortal boundaries in this way. These boundaries are emphasised by her failure.

Apollonius’ version is not the only tradition of Thetis’ attempt to secure or test Achilles’ mortality: in stark contrast to Apollonius’ somewhat maternal portrayal of this episode is Lycophron’s reference to Achilles’ childhood in the

852 A.R. 4.852-64. 853 Cf. Ormand (2004) 319.

198 Alexandra,854 in which Achilles is described as the only one of seven children to have survived the fire (μοῦνον…ἐξαλύξαντα σποδόν).855 Here, Thetis is only indirectly referred to by context, and the audience are given no indication of her motives or of any maternal bond. Rather, the narrative is centred on Achilles, and for this event to have two of seven lines describing Achilles dedicated to it suggests its significance in his characterisation.856 Furthermore, there is no direct mention of the intended immortality, and this may only be understood from external knowledge of this myth; the perspective Lycophron portrays is perhaps focalised by Peleus – the view of a mortal, unable to comprehend the actions of a deity – as only the danger of the episode and its destructive end result is depicted. While the brevity of Lycophron’s treatment of this event certainly contributes to this impression, Thetis’ actions here also indicate a lack of concern for her mortal children’s lives; her motives, even if understood from the mythic background, result in her children’s deaths and completely subvert her portrayal as a mother figure.857 A similar account from the scholia to the Argonautica has Thetis again testing her children’s mortality (γνῶναι βουλομένη εἰ θνητοί εἰσιν),858 with no apparent motive of making them immortal, with the result, similarly to Lycophron’s version, that many die (πολλῶν διαφθαρέντων). Here Peleus prevents Thetis from testing Achilles – perhaps, in this account, the only reason he survives. Variants such as these further suggest Thetis’ unsuitability for a mortal family; her actions are incompatible (except in Achilles’ case) with her children’s mortality.

The likelihood of children subjected to such attempts dying is further supported by Hera’s (failed) attempt to make Medea’s children immortal: ὑπέσχετο αὐτῇ ἀθανάτους ποιῆσαι τοὺς παῖδας. ἀποθανόν / τας δὲ τούτους.859 This act is one which is unlikely to be successful; even if it is shown to have potential (as in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter and Apollonius’ epic), or possibly to have been successful (as in Lycophron’s account), the act is inherently linked to death. In each

854 Lyc. 178-9. Hornblower (2015) 163 considers this episode an example of ‘the story-type of babies who are exposed to some danger in order to confer immortality on them’ and notes the incompatibility of this version with the myth of ‘Achilles’ heel’. 855 Lyc. 179. 856 Achilles appears here in lines 171-9. 857 Furley (1981) 76 suggests that Thetis’ concern for Achilles’ nature is a natural one for a mother, made extreme to reflect the difference between mortals and divinities; however, it nonetheless undermines her characterisation as a mother owing to the potential for harm. 858 Hes. fr.300 M-W = ∑ A.R. 4.816. This fragment has Thetis testing the children’s mortality in a cauldron, rather than a fire, yet the essential details are the same. 859 ∑ Pi. O. 13.74g.

199 case, therefore, this motif illustrates the distance between Thetis and her son, and between Thetis and Peleus – Thetis’ only concern is Achilles’ immortality, and whether this concern ultimately results in the death of her children or not, the act shows her inability to simply settle for a mortal family and leads to her abandonment of the family – a striking departure from her overwhelming concern for Achilles in the Iliad.

ii. Thetis, Dionysus and Hephaestus

Next, I explore Thetis’ portrayal as a saviour of and mother figure to Dionysus and Hephaestus, two beings to whom she is not directly related, yet acts maternally towards. Both instances are dependent on her connection to the sea; this forms the setting for Thetis ‘saving’ each figure, rather than acting as a factor distancing Thetis from the family role. Additionally, unlike her relationship with Achilles, Thetis’ interaction with these figures is not complicated by the conflict of divinity and mortality, and I argue that both factors contribute to her successful role as a mother figure in these myths. I shall consider the Hephaestus episode first, before moving on to Dionysus, comparing with Thetis’ relationship with Achilles and Peleus where relevant.

The myth of Thetis rescuing Hephaestus when he is thrown from Olympus by Hera is recalled by Hephaestus in the Iliad, occurs in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, and is referenced in the Odyssey. In this episode, Thetis’ actions are in response to Hera’s, and she acts as a surrogate or replacement for Hera, the ‘true’ mother figure but one who is portrayed in a negative light.

In Iliad 18, Thetis asks Hephaestus to make weapons for Achilles and is received warmly. Hephaestus recalls his time living with Thetis:

ἥ μ᾽ ἐσάωσ᾽ ὅτε μ᾽ ἄλγος ἀφίκετο τῆλε πεσόντα μητρὸς ἐμῆς ἰότητι κυνώπιδος, ἥ μ᾽ ἐθέλησε κρύψαι χωλὸν ἐόντα· τότ᾽ ἂν πάθον ἄλγεα θυμῷ, εἰ μή μ᾽ Εὐρυνόμη τε Θέτις θ᾽ ὑπεδέξατο κόλπῳ860

860 Il. 18.395-8.

200 In Hephaestus’ focalisation, Thetis’ actions are directly contrasted with those of κυνώπιδος Hera – where Hera wished to conceal (κρύψαι) Hephaestus’ lameness, Thetis and Eurynome, another marine deity and a daughter of Ocean, welcomed him (ὑπεδέξατο κόλπῳ). The word κόλπος here suggests a maternal action, even nursing,861 but can also be used of the sea,862 and thus seems to carry a double meaning here, in stark contrast to the motif discussed above. The phrase ὑπεδέξατο κόλπῳ itself warrants further attention; with ὑποδέχομαι this phrasing appears only twice in the Homeric epics, the other occasion being the description of Thetis’ rescue of Dionysus in Iliad 6.863 It is thus unique to this act of protection. With δέχομαι the phrase is additionally used in the Iliad of Andromache cradling Astyanax,864 and occurs twice in the Homeric Hymns – of Demeter’s ‘nursing’ of Demophoon, and of Dionysus being received by nymphs, another reference to the god being raised in the sea, albeit a different tradition than that presented in the Iliad.865

Hephaestus’ positive reaction to Thetis is therefore explained by this interaction; through Hephaestus’ focalisation, Hera and Thetis are presented with opposing natures. However, it is Hera’s perspective which is given in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo:

παῖς ἐμὸς Ἥφαιστος, ῥικνὸς πόδας, ὃν τέκον αὐτή·

ῥῖψ᾽ ἀνὰ χερσὶν ἑλοῦσα καὶ ἔμβαλον εὐρέι πόντῳ· ἀλλά ἑ Νηρῆος θυγάτηρ Θέτις ἀργυρόπεζα δέξατο καὶ μετὰ ᾗσι κασιγνήτῃσι κόμισσεν.866

There is much greater emphasis placed here on Hephaestus’ lameness, and its mention (ῥικνὸς πόδας) is closely followed by Hera throwing him. Despite the lacuna in the text, one may infer Hera’s feelings towards her child from Hephaestus’ description above, in which she wished to hide him (κρύψαι) because of his disability, and certainly this must be the reason.867 There is a similar juxtaposition of the actions of Hera and Thetis – after Hera throws Hephaestos (ἔμβαλον), Thetis

861 Rinon (2006) 4. See Il. 6.483; h.Cer. 248. 862 LSJ s.v. κόλπος A.III.1, see, for example, Il. 18.140: θαλάσσης εὐρέα κόλπον. 863 Il. 6.136. 864 Il. 6.483. 865 h.Cer. 231, h.Hom. 26.4. 866 h.Ap. 317-20. 867 Cf. Richardson (2010) ad loc.

201 receives and cares for him (δέξατο…κόμισσεν). There appears to be some interaction with the motif of rejecting a child of lesser status as in the attempted immortalisation myths discussed above – as discussed, both Demeter and Thetis physically cast the mortal child away from themselves on being discovered, an action caused by their dissatisfaction with the child’s (mortal) status.868 Hera throws Hephaestus, albeit into the sea rather than to the ground, and associates this with the anger she feels at his deformity. Thetis’ role in rescuing Hephaestus further links these episodes, and thus she undergoes another reversal of her characterisation.

Hera’s reaction to Hephaestus here distinguishes her from Leto, the mother of Apollo; at the Hymn’s opening, Leto’s reaction to her son is as follows:

χαίρει δέ τε πότνια Λητώ, οὕνεκα τοξοφόρον καὶ καρτερὸν υἱὸν ἔτικτε.869

This is a clear contrast to Hera’s remarks about her son, above, and further allows for contrasts between Hephaestus and Apollo; the former is explicitly deformed (ῥικνὸς πόδας) and thus differentiated from the rest of the Olympians, while the latter is strong and suited to combat, therefore positively distinguished.870 The relative shame and pride of their mothers are juxtaposed, positioning Hera (who will act against Zeus in attempting to give birth to Typhon)871 in contrast to Leto (who sits with Zeus at the Hymn’s opening).872

Furthermore, it is significant that this reference to Hephaestus in the Homeric Hymn is placed at the moment when Hera decides to give birth to Typhon in response to the birth of Athene. Through Zeus’ act, Hera is to some extent deprived of the chance to become a mother (in this instance), and she remarks on her own suitability to be a mother to Zeus’ child (οὐκ ἂν ἐγὼ τεκόμην;)873 before choosing to claim this opportunity and simultaneously gain revenge on Zeus by giving birth to Typhon, another opposition to Apollo in the narrative.874 Clay

868 See h.Cer. 253-4, A.R. 4.875-6. 869 h.Ap. 12-13. 870 Clay (1989) 22. 871 h.Ap. 335-40. 872 h.Ap. 5. This contrast between the two goddesses is further emphasised in 91-101 through Hera’s jealousy (ζηλοσύνη) and her attempt to prevent Leto from giving birth to Apollo. 873 h.Ap. 324. 874 Clay (1989) 65.

202 suggests that the ‘inferiority’ of Hera’s offspring indicates her diminishment of authority,875 and certainly Hephaestus’ and Typhon’s forms are contrasted with that of Apollo, the ideal divine child. However, Hera’s assessment of her own suitability for motherhood is undermined by the recollection of her treatment of Hephaestus – her own child – which shows her, in this case, to be destructive as a mother.

While Hera is certainly positioned as an example of a ‘bad’ mother in the Homeric Hymn, her portrayal as a mother in the Iliad is more complicated. In Iliad 1, Hephaestus (in Thetis’ absence) interacts with Hera, giving her advice and reassuring his ‘dear mother’ (μητρὶ φίλῃ),876 a marked contrast to his later description of her as κυνώπης: their relationship is therefore not wholly negative.877 Moreover, in this episode Hephaestus refers to being thrown from Olympus, although this time by Zeus: με καὶ ἄλλοτ᾽ ἀλεξέμεναι μεμαῶτα / ῥῖψε ποδὸς τεταγὼν ἀπὸ βηλοῦ θεσπεσίοιο.878 These episodes are linked by the common motif of Hephaestus being thrown from Olympus, yet on this occasion Hephaestus was saved by the Sintians, rather than Thetis.879 Kirk suggests that both instances of this tale ‘account for [Hephaestus’] lameness’,880 but in fact neither story is explicitly presented as the cause of his disability; in Book 1 he describes himself as having little spirit left (ὀλίγος δ᾽ ἔτι θυμὸς ἐνῆεν)881 after his fall, yet the only reference to his feet is that Zeus throws him by his foot (ποδὸς τεταγών).882 In Book 18 (and the Homeric Hymn to Apollo), as discussed, his disability is the cause of his fall rather than an injury sustained during it.

Additionally, there are indications of a quasi-maternal link between Hera and Thetis, despite Hera’s clear distrust of and hostility towards Thetis in Iliad 1;883

875 Clay (1989) 68. 876 Il. 1.572. 877 See Rinon (2006) 5. 878 Il. 1.590-1. 879 Braswell (1971) 19-21 suggests that this inconsistency is an indication of Homer inventing the Thetis episode in order to allow for Hephaestus to be in her debt, and further suggests that this episode may be based on the Dionysus episode. 880 Kirk (1985) ad loc; cf. Rinon (2006) 4 argues that the second fall must result from Hephaestus’ lameness which was caused by the first fall. 881 Il. 1.593. 882 Il. 1.591. 883 Il. 1.555-9, Hera also explicitly refers to Thetis here as the θυγάτηρ ἁλίοιο γέροντος, a typical epithet of Thetis (see also 1.538, 24.562), but which is in contrast to Hera’s association with Thetis in Book 24. Hera’s negative relationship with Thetis is also echoed in h.Ap, 321. See Braswell (1971) 23-4.

203 Hera rebukes Apollo by describing the difference in status between Achilles and Hector, and describes her connection to Achilles through Thetis.884 This connection makes Hera a quasi-grandmother to Achilles, and therefore further distances Achilles from Hector.885 Hera, it would seem, can be motherly, and her rejection of Hephaestus is made all the more shocking by comparison, while Thetis’ relationship with Hephaestus is simultaneously complicated by this revelation. This aspect of Hera and Thetis’ relationship also appears in the Argonautica,886 in which it is a quasi-familial relationship contrasting with Thetis’ actual – failed – relationship with Peleus and Achilles. In linking Hera and Thetis, the problematic maternal characterisation of both figures is brought to prominence.

I shall now move on to Thetis’ rescue of Dionysus in Iliad 6. Unlike the Hephaestus episode, this is not related by or in the presence of either of the parties involved, but by Diomedes, as a warning against mortal attempts to harm the gods:

οὐδὲ γὰρ οὐδὲ Δρύαντος υἱὸς κρατερὸς Λυκόοργος δὴν ἦν, ὅς ῥα θεοῖσιν ἐπουρανίοισιν ἔριζεν· ὅς ποτε μαινομένοιο Διωνύσοιο τιθήνας σεῦε κατ᾽ ἠγάθεον Νυσήϊον· αἳ δ᾽ ἅμα πᾶσαι θύσθλα χαμαὶ κατέχευαν ὑπ᾽ ἀνδροφόνοιο Λυκούργου θεινόμεναι βουπλῆγι· Διώνυσος δὲ φοβηθεὶς δύσεθ᾽ ἁλὸς κατὰ κῦμα, Θέτις δ᾽ ὑπεδέξατο κόλπῳ δειδιότα· κρατερὸς γὰρ ἔχε τρόμος ἀνδρὸς ὁμοκλῇ.887

Like Hephaestus, Dionysus falls into the sea (δύσεθ᾽), though this is in order to escape (φοβηθείς) from Lycurgus; he is not thrown as Hephaestus was. However, the image of the sea as a place of refuge is still apparent in Thetis ‘receiving’ Dionysus, in contrast to the potential danger of a billowing sea (ἁλὸς…κῦμα). Furthermore, while Dionysus is not thrown or driven into the sea by a mother figure, we find a trace of the absence of a mother figure as Lycurgus drives Dionysus’ nurses down Mount Nysa (ὅς ποτε μαινομένοιο Διωνύσοιο τιθήνας / σεῦε).888 The presence of these nurses in the episode renders Dionysus childlike and he therefore to some extent parallels Astyanax in this Book, an impression

884 Hera explains that she raised (ρέψά) Thetis and selected Peleus as her husband, Il. 24.59-61. Braswell (1971) 23 argues that this must be ‘an invention to explain Hera's interest in the goddess and her son’. 885 Richardson (1993) 283. 886 A.R. 4.790-7. 887 Il. 6.130-7. 888 Il. 6.132-3.

204 which is contributed to by descriptions of Dionysus’ fear of Lycurgus, a mortal.889 The loss of these nurses allows for the immediate absence of a maternal influence for which Thetis may act as a replacement. Additionally, unlike the Hephaestus episode, Thetis acts alone here.

Dionysus, moreover, is not a frequently occurring figure in the Homeric epics; aside from his flight from Lycurgus in Book 6, he is only mentioned elsewhere in the Iliad once, when Zeus tells Hera about his mortal lovers,890 and twice in the Odyssey: once in relation to Ariadne, and again concerning a gift made to Thetis (Διωνύσοιο δὲ δῶρον).891 This gift of an urn (in which Thetis is to place Achilles’ bones)892 must refer to a previous relationship between Thetis and Dionysus, and is expanded upon by Stesichorus, who explicitly links this gift to Dionysus’ stay with Thetis.893 The urn becomes an emblem of the maternal relationships between Dionysus and Thetis, Thetis and Achilles, and, as it was made by Hephaestus, additionally between Thetis and Hephaestus: the bones of Thetis’ biological child will remain in the works of her two quasi-children, a reversal of her protection of these two figures.

Like Thetis, both Dionysus and Hephaestus are marginalised beings; they exist on the fringes of Olympian society – Hephaestus owing to his unique nature as a disabled god,894 Dionysus through his nature from having a mortal mother and his victimisation at the hands of a mortal, Lycurgus. They are therefore appropriate surrogate sons for Thetis; owing to the distinction of the sea from other realms, not just any god may enter the sea (see chapter 2.2). While both Hephaestus and Dionysus are somewhat associated with mortality in the Iliad – Hephaestus through the depiction of his deformity which sets him apart from the Olympians, and Dionysus through his apparent helplessness in Book 6 of the Iliad and the aforementioned parallel generated between the god and Astyanax – Dionysus and

889 Even after fleeing Lycurgus, Dionysus is described as δειδιότα (137). Cf. Il. 6.476-70 as Astyanax shrinks away from Hector in fear to his nurse, emphasising his helplessness. Dionysus is also further linked to Astyanax by the phrasing ὑπεδέξατο κόλπῳ, as discussed above. 890 Il. 14.325. 891 Od. 11.315-5; 24.73-5. 892 Cf. Il. 23.91-2. 893 Stesichorus fr.234 (Σ.Il. 23-92). 894 Rinon (2006) 1, 6. See Il. 1.599-600: the Olympians laugh at Hephaestus as he walks about - this itself distinguishes Hephaestus from the other Olympians, and so too does the participle used to describe his actions, as ποιπνύοντα, from ποιπνύω, suggests the actions of a servant (LSJ s.v. ποιπνύω).

205 Hephaestus are divine beings, and thus of equal status to Thetis, who herself has connections to mortality and human suffering.895

Achilles, on the other hand, is mortal and his familial relationship with Thetis is complicated by this difference in status. As such, I will now briefly turn my attention to the depiction of Thetis’ relationship with Achilles in the Iliad, in order to draw comparisons and assess the effect of divine/mortal status in her various maternal relationships. In contrast to Thetis’ rejection of Achilles discussed above, in the Iliad Achilles is firmly and repeatedly established as Thetis’ son896 and the two meet several times, while Peleus is absent from the narrative and mentioned on few occasions.897 In this regard, Thetis is again the parent primarily engaged and interacting with Achilles, as was the case of the depictions of his infancy until her departure.898 In fact, Achilles’ character itself is seen to be the result of being raised by Thetis, as he recalls reproaches made his companions that he was fed on anger by Thetis (χόλῳ ἄρα σ᾿ ἔτρεφε μήτηρ).899

Thetis’ relationship with Achilles in the Iliad is both complicated by and dependent on the difference in their statuses, as is clear from their first encounter at 1.348-430. Here, Achilles leaves his companions to visit Thetis and the two meet on the sea shore, the liminal boundary between Thetis’ sea realm and that of the land battle. In this instance Achilles must ‘summon’ Thetis to him, and her nature as a sea deity is clearly established as the emphasis is placed on her position in the sea (ἐν βένθεσσιν ἁλός, 358) as well as her belonging to an immortal family. Instead of residing with Peleus, Thetis stays with her father (παρὰ πατρὶ γέροντι, 357). However, this boundary is not insurmountable, and Thetis leaves the sea ‘speedily’

895 E.g. her concern for Achilles’ death, an event which is alien to the divine realm and her mortal marriage. See Slatkin (1986) 11. Rinon (2006) 8 suggests that this pain allows for Hephaestus’ and Thetis’ relationship to occur. 896 See, e.g. Il. 4.512, 9.410-11, 20.206-7. 897 See, e.g. Il. 18.59-60, 20.206-7. 898 Thetis does, in mourning Achilles’ prophesied death, lament that she will never again welcome Achilles into Peleus’ house (Il. 18.59-60: τὸν δ᾽ οὐχ ὑποδέξομαι αὖτις / οἴκαδε νοστήσαντα δόμον Πηλήϊον εἴσω), thus associating Achilles’ home with Peleus – however this is to be expected owing to his mortal status, and recalls myths surrounding Achilles’ childhood and Thetis’ marriage to Peleus. 899 Il. 16.203. Patroclus’ earlier comments seem to contradict this as he associates Achilles’ cruelty (νόος … ἀπηνής) with the sea: Il. 16.34-5: οὐδὲ Θέτις μήτηρ· γλαυκὴ δέ σε τίκτε θάλασσα / πέτραι τ᾿ ἠλίβατοι, ὅτι τοι νόος ἐστὶν ἀπηνής, ‘…nor was Thetis your mother, but the grey sea and the steep cliffs gave birth to you, since your mind is cruel’. However, as Thetis is so closely connected to the sea – and therefore distinct from mortals and mortal roles – this statement may refer simply to her inhuman nature.

206 (καρπαλίμως, 359) to go to Achilles. Achilles is shown to be reliant on Thetis – in this situation, one in which his fellow mortals cannot help him, Achilles turns to his goddess mother who must act as a kind of mediator between Achilles and Zeus.900 Thetis' role as a mediator for Achilles is also apparent in her procurement of armour from Hephaestus.901 In fact, Thetis and Achilles’ encounter at 18.35-148 is similar in formula to their first meeting. While Achilles does not actively 'summon' Thetis on this occasion, following Patroclus' death, it is his cry (ᾤμωξεν) which causes Thetis to leave the sea,902 where she is again residing with her father.903 On this occasion, therefore, it is Thetis who must leave her realm to go to Achilles – yet while Achilles isolated himself from his companions (νόσφι λιασθείς)904 in order to meet Thetis, here the goddess is accompanied by her fellow nymphs. Indeed, these nymphs not only travel with Thetis, but share in her mourning for Patroclus: αἳ δὲ σὺν αὐτῇ / δακρυόεσσαι ἴσαν.905 Thetis, apparently, may not so easily abandon her companions when leaving her realm of the sea.

Despite the emphasis on Thetis’ divine status and the communication this allows Achilles to have with Zeus, Buxton notes the total lack of mortal astonishment in their encounters.906 There is no need for a reveal and recognition scene, as frequently occurs in encounters with divinities,907 as Achilles immediately knows Thetis. This recognition implies an intimacy and knowledge and links the two figures despite their different statuses; the familial bond is clearly strong enough to overcome this. Both this implied familiarity and Thetis’ eagerness to respond to Achilles’ call are in contrast to the myth of Thetis abandoning the infant Achilles and suggest a close mother-son relationship in spite of Achilles’ mortality. In fact, as a prominent bond in the epic, Thetis and Achilles’ relationship in some ways parallels that of Hector and Hecabe; both mothers are on the fringes of the

900 And thus, in interacting with the myth of Thetis’ potential to bear Zeus’ over-thrower, additionally between Achilles’ mortal self and his potential divinity. 901 Il. 18.142ff. 902 Il. 18.35. 903 Il. 18.36. 904 Il. 1.349 905 Il. 18.65-6. Thetis’ mourning here foreshadows her mourning of Achilles, which begins even before his death (24.83-6), see Slatin (1991) 88; on the Neoanalytical reading of this passage and the Aethiopis see, e.g. Slatkin (1991) 21-7, Dowden (2004) 201, Kullman (2015) 113-19, Rengakos (2015) 315-17, Currie (2016) 119-20. 906 Buxton (2010) 85. 907 See, e.g. encounters with Athena at Il. 4.78-80 and Od. 3.371-3; we may compare Metaneira’s reaction to seeing Demeter’s true form at h.Cer. 281: τῆς δ᾽ αὐτίκα γούνατ᾽ ἔλυντο.

207 battlefield, fearing for their sons, and both directly interact with their son during the narrative. However, while Hecabe attempts to prevent Hector from fighting, believing that he would be killed by Achilles,908 Thetis – fully aware of Achilles’ fate – enables him to re-join the battle by providing him with armour from Hephaestus.909 Both mothers, too, lament their sons’ deaths, with the distinction that Thetis effectively mourns Achilles in anticipation of his fate while he is still alive.910

In fact, the motif of mourning colours the majority of Thetis’ encounters with Achilles in the epic; his mortality is her primary concern and is a central issue of their relationship appears to be one of her greatest concerns.911 This is a clear distinction between Achilles and her divine ‘adopted children’. However, while both Achilles and Thetis refer to the predestined brevity of his life on several occasions,912 Thetis, like Achilles, puts aside her concern for his life in favour of his honour as a warrior. This appears to be at odds with the theme of her mourning in anticipation of his death which is carried through much of the epic, and certainly differentiates Thetis from Hecabe in their maternal actions,913 yet it recalls the attempted immortalisation myth discussed above. That action, precipitated by her child’s mortal status, resulted in Thetis abandoning the infant Achilles through unhappiness with his status – Thetis’ actions in pushing Achilles back into the battle with Hector demonstrate a similar concern for his status and reputation.

Despite Hera’s mistrust of Thetis, through these episodes the goddess is repeatedly linked to a ‘divine past’ in which she appears as a saviour figure;914 just as she rescued Zeus,915 she rescues Hephaestus and Dionysus, a protective side to her character which seems at odds with her association with the motif of attempting to immortalise her children, particularly the tradition in which her concern for the children’s status is overwhelming and her actions result in their deaths. This is another example of Thetis’ character undergoing shifts in her

908 Il. 22.82-9. 909 Il. 19.34-6. Cf. Slatkin (1991) 45. 910 E.g. Il. 18.50-62, 24.83-6. 911 Slatkin (1991) 56. 912 See, e.g. Il. 1.352, 4.410-16. 913 And, indeed, from Priam, who similarly attempts to dissuade Hector from battling Achilles, Il. 22.38-41. 914 Slatkin (1986) 10, (1991) 52-9. 915 Il. 1.396-406.

208 portrayal, as was the case with depictions of her attempt to immortalise Achilles. However, in both cases, as we have seen, Thetis’ relationship with the god is precipitated by her location in the sea. I argue, therefore, that it is not only the lack of a mortal-divine status conflict that allows for Thetis’ role as a mother to be firmly established, but that the sea itself acts as a uniting force. It is crucial that, in both episodes, Thetis only intervenes after the god falls (or jumps) into the sea; they enter her domain, rather than her leaving it, as she is forced to in her marriage to Peleus. This pattern occurs elsewhere; while Thetis may travel to Olympus to supplicate Zeus or Hephaestus, she does not belong there and does not remain longer than needed,916 and messengers must be sent to summon her out of the sea when she is called upon by Zeus or Hera.917 Similarly, although she leaves the sea to interact with Achilles on land, as in Iliad 1, she does not remain on land, but returns to her realm of the sea afterwards.918 The myths of her encounters with Hephaestus and Dionysus, therefore, simply could not occur outside of the sea location – it is only in this locale that she may act as a mother without the tragic inversion of this status presented by Apollonius or Lycophron, or the overwhelming threat of loss which colours her presentation in the Iliad.

916 See Il. 1.495-559 for her supplication of Zeus, cf. Hephaestus’ remarks on the scarcity of her visits: 18.424-7 (cf. Calypso’s comments at Od. 5.87-91). 917 Il. 24.74-92, A.R. 4.757-60. 918 Il. 1.348-430.

209 Conclusion

This thesis has offered a new and comprehensive reading of the depiction of shapeshifting figures in early Greek poetry, an area which has not previously received sufficient attention to unearth its complexities. I have shown that the shapeshifters discussed can be read as a cohesive unit and that it is useful to do so because of the range of shared characteristics and features – their ‘family resemblances’ – found across their depictions. This group of shapeshifters is not an exclusive one, nor do its members constitute a singular ‘type’ of figure. Rather, identifying the variations within the group has allowed this thesis to uncover a range of connections linking certain figures together more strongly, for instance Proteus and Thetis, whose shapeshifting episodes are linked by the forms which the gods assume and their access to supernatural knowledge, or Metis and Periclymenus, who are both paradoxically empowered and undermined by their metamorphic abilities. It is by reading these figures both as a group and individually, moreover, that I have been able to argue for Dionysus’ inclusion as a shapeshifter based on the god’s own transformations and that of the pirates into dolphins. This is an instance of ‘transferred metamorphosis’ which is mirrored in Menelaus’ quasi-transformation into a seal in Odyssey 4. Previous studies have tended to suggest that female shapeshifters cannot transform after marriage; I have shown by examination of Mestra’s myth in particular that this is not the case and that in fact Mestra’s return to care for her father can only be read as a return to shapeshifting., My analysis of Mestra’s depiction in the Hesiodic Catalogue against the transformations of other shapeshifters has allowed me to demonstrate that clear evidence can be found pointing towards the ability of female shapeshifters to transform following ‘marriage’, even when that marriage is divinely sanctioned; in fact, Mestra is one of the only figures for whom we do possess narrative evidence of continued shapeshifting. Mestra’s capacity for shapeshifting thus parallels Proteus’, whose transformative abilities outside his interaction with Menelaus are similarly hinted at in the Odyssey by Eidothea’s certainty that the sea god will do so when approached by the hero and her mention of different possible transformations (for instance, into fire). In the case of both Dionysus and Mestra, I have shown how the theme of binding – central to the transformations of both Proteus and Thetis, since

210 the element of sexual violence related to forced marriage must be read as a form of binding – can be inverted in order to affect dynamics of agency within the myths.

I have explored these characters from a range of perspectives which have allowed me to showcase their rich potential for study. By employing three broad frames I have considered both individual shapeshifters and common themes which can be found across depictions, as well as structural elements of the myths. Beginning with the nature of the transformations themselves, I have shown how shapeshifting can be viewed as distinct from the externally inflicted transformations of mortals and the self-willed single transformations of the Olympian gods. The distinction between transformation per se and transformation- as-disguise is a significant consideration here, and, as I have shown, it is one factor distinguishing these two types of self-transformations. By discussing the internal and external associations of the animal and elemental forms taken on by the shapeshifters I have further shown the narrative and imaginative force of these depictions which do not appear as oddities or superfluous elements in the web of Greek myth, but form one of its closely integrated threads.

I have also closely examined the characterisation and narrative role of the shapeshifters themselves, considering the archetypes which may be identified in their appearances and which provide useful tools through which to read these myths, including that of the Trickster, along with resemblances in these depictions to folktale elements, notably the Swan Maiden type. One significant connection between most of these figures is their proximity to water; as I have shown, the ambivalent narrative positioning in which shapeshifters paradoxically endanger and benefit those mortals who approach them is closely linked to the similarly ambivalent role of water and the sea in Greek thought and everyday life. The sea’s capriciousness for a seafaring culture and its ultimate unknowability is reflected in the role of marine deities and other primeval, elemental forces, who in the Theogony are changeable in their alliances and so constitute an ever-present threat to the established order. It is no coincidence therefore that we find in two of the shapeshifters, Thetis and Metis, the threat of further succession. In fact, as I discussed, hints of this story-type can even be found in the myths of Nemesis, whose child, Helen, causes disruption in the mortal realm which affects the dynamic on Olympus in the Iliad, and Mestra, a figure of metis and cunning herself and whose child is described in terms notably reminiscent of those used to describe

211 Zeus’ opponents in the Theogony. Further, this thesis has also presented a comparative reading of these figures informed by parallels with the monsters of Greek myth, which has shed new light on their narrative role and has allowed for an in-depth consideration of the ways in which a reader or audience might approach shapeshifters and how their expectations – drawn from parallels with monsters – are met or disrupted in the course of each depiction.

Lastly, examination of the depiction of Proteus and Thetis specifically in the last two chapters has allowed me to show the resonances which can be found in these myths. Proteus’ shapeshifting is intricately connected to the wider narrative of the Odyssey and leads us to appreciate the parallels between Menelaus and Odysseus more deeply, while the seal-herd himself resembles at times Tiresias and Nestor. Thetis’ primary role in myth, of course, is as the mother of Achilles. As I have shown, her predisposition towards shapeshifting impacts this role, tied as it is to her marriage to Peleus and her inability to ‘belong’ in a mortal family. Her relationship to the sea, moreover, is crucial to her role protecting Dionysus and Hephaestus, both somewhat marginalised gods, and here we find further evidence of Thetis’ rebellious and cosmically challenging nature.

The contribution of this research is not limited to developing our understanding of shapeshifters alone. By exploring the narrative role and depiction of these characters, the thesis has offered new and more nuanced readings of the texts in which they appear. Closer examination of Mestra’s shapeshifting has led to a reinterpretation of related fragments of the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women and has revealed subtle yet significant intertextual links which aid our understanding of this fragmentary text – full appreciation of which has so far been limited by the lack of proper consideration of Mestra as a shapeshifter. My examination of the intratextual connections between Proteus’ shapeshifting episode in Odyssey 4 and the wider text, and the many parallels of structure and of character which are present, not only aids our appreciation of the shapeshifter but reveals the extent to which Menelaus’ journey functions as a microcosm of Odysseus’, from parallels related to consultation of a supernaturally-knowledgeable figure to battling the sea and a marine deity. Similarly, my reading of Dionysus’ Homeric Hymn centred on the god’s transformation offers strengthened intertextual connections with, for instance, the Homeric Hymn to Apollo and the Odyssey, as well as striking resemblances to folktale motifs, and the portrayal of transformation in Greek vase

212 painting. This thesis thus sheds new light on individual texts and, even more significantly, on the intertextual connections which emerge across depictions of shapeshifters.

Nonetheless, this subject presents much in the way of avenues for expansion and further study. A focused consideration of cult worship and ritual evidence, for instance, would provide a strong counterpoint through which to discuss the wider impact and influence of shapeshifters within Greek thought. Further, much could be gained from literary analysis of the treatment of shapeshifting figures in Latin poetry and a comparison of their appearance in Greek and Roman material. The analysis presented in this thesis also represents a footing from which further comparative study could be undertaken; comparative readings based on the findings of this thesis with material from other cultures – in the model of chapter 2.1 – may yield further results.

The shapeshifters discussed in the course of this thesis are characterised and linked above all by their changeable nature. It has been my intention by bringing together this range of approaches and readings informed by different theoretical and methodological standpoints to add some stability to our understanding of these characters. What I have shown, however, is that the most essential feature of these figures lies in their potential, evidenced by the varying circumstances in which shapeshifting occurs and the broad range of figures that experience it; after all, we cannot ever really be sure to have uncovered the true nature of any shapeshifter.

213 Bibliography

Alden, M. (2005). ‘Lions in Paradise: Lion Similes in the Iliad and the Lion Cubs of Il. 18.318-22’. The Classical Quarterly 55 (2): 335–42.

Alden, M.J. (2017) Para-Narratives in the Odyssey: Stories in the Frame. Oxford.

Algra, K. (1999) “The Beginnings of Cosmology” in Long, A.A. (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to Early Greek Philosophy. Cambridge: 45-65.

Aston, E. (2014) “Part-Animal Gods.” In Campbell, Gordon Lindsay (ed.) The Oxford Handbook of Animals in Classical Thought and Life. Oxford: 366–83.

Aston, E. (2006) “The Absence of Chiron”, The Classical Quarterly, New Series, 56, No. 2: 349-362.

Aston, E. (2011) Mixanthropoi: Animal-Human Hybrid Deities in Greek Religion. Liege.

Bakker, E.J. (2013) The Meaning of Meat and the Structure of the Odyssey. Cambridge.

Baragwanath, E. (2008) Motivation and Narrative in Herodotus. Oxford.

Battezzato, L. (2018) Euripides: Hecuba. Cambridge.

Baumbach, M. (2013) "Proteus and Protean Epic: From Homer to Nonnos" in Gildenhard, I., Zissos, A. (eds.) Transformative Change in Western Thought: A History of Metamorphosis from Homer to Hollywood. London: 153-162.

Beaulieu, M.-C. (2016a) The Sea in the Greek Imagination. Philadelphia.

Beaulieu, M.-C. (2016b) ‘The Dolphin in Classical Mythology and Religion’. In Johnston, P. A., A. Mastrocinque and S. Papaioannou (eds.) Animals in Greek and Roman Religion and Myth. Newcastle: 237-53.

Beekes, R. (2009) Etymological Dictionary of Greek. (2 vols). Leiden.

Bettini, M. (2016) “Visibilità, invisibilità e identità degli dèi” in Pironti, G. and C. Bonnet (eds.) Gli dei di Omero. Politeismo e poesia nella Grecia antica. Rome: 29- 57.

214 Brady, M.K. (1984) "Some kind of power": Navajo children's skinwalker narratives. Salt Lake City.

Braswell, B.K. (1971) “Mythological Innovation in the Iliad”, The Classical Quarterly 21 (1): 16-26.

Brelinski, T. (2015) “Medon Meets a Cyclops? Odyssey 22.310–80” The Classical Quarterly 65, no. 1: 1–13.

Burgess, J.S. (2004) “Performance and the Epic Cycle” The Classical Journal 100 no.1: 1-23.

Burnell, F. (1949). ‘Ino and Her Veil’. Folklore, 60 (1): 201-207.

Burnett, A.P. (2005) Pindar’s Songs for Young Athletes of Aigina. Oxford.

Buxton, R. (1994) Imaginary Greece: The Contexts of Mythology. Cambridge.

Buxton, R. (2009) Forms of Astonishment: Greek Myths of Metamorphosis. Oxford.

Buxton, R. (2010) “Metamorphoses of gods into animals and humans”, in Bremmer, J.N., and A. Erskine (eds.) The Gods of Ancient Greece: Identities and Transformations. Edinburgh.

Carroll, M.P. (1984) “The Trickster as Selfish-Buffoon and Culture Hero”, Ethos 12: 105–131.

Clay, J.S. (1981-82) “Immortal and Ageless Forever” The Classical Journal 77 no.2: 112-117.

Clay, J.S. (1989) The Politics of Olympus. London.

Clay, J.S. (1993) “The Generation of Monsters in Hesiod.” Classical Philology 88, no. 2: 105–16.

Clay, J.S. (2003) Hesiod's Cosmos. Cambridge.

Clay, J.S. (2016) “The Justice of Zeus in the Theogony?” in Clauss, J. J., M. Cuypers and A. Kahane (eds.) The Gods of Greek Hexameter Poetry. Stuttgart: 21-31.

Currie, B. (2015) “Cypria”, in Fantuzzi, M., and C. Tsagalis (eds.) The Greek Epic Cycle and its Ancient Reception. Cambridge: 281-305.

Currie, B. (2016). Homer’s Allusive Art. Oxford.

215 de Jong, I. (2001) A Narratological Commentary on the Odyssey. Cambridge. de Jong, I. (2014). Narratology and Classics: A Practical Guide. Oxford.

Detienne, M. (1979) Dionysos Slain. Translated by Muellner, M., and L. Muellner. Baltimore; London.

Detienne, M., and J.P. Vernant. (1978) Cunning intelligence in Greek culture and society. Translated by J. Lloyd. Hassocks.

Dodds, E. R. (1960) Euripides: Bacchae. 2nd edn. Oxford.

Dowden, K. (1992) The Uses of Greek Mythology. London.

Dowden, K. (2004) ‘The epic tradition in Greece’ in Fowler, R. (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to Homer. Cambridge: 188-205.

Dronke, Ursula (ed. Trans.) (1997) The Poetic Edda. Volume II: Mythological Poems. Oxford.

Dufner, C.M. (1988) The “Odyssey” in the “Argonautica”: Reminiscence, revision, reconstruction. PhD thesis, University of Michigan. Ann Arbor.

Faulkes, A. (1995) Snorri Stulson: Edda. London.

Faulkner, A. (2011) “The Collection of Homeric Hymns” In Faulkner, A. (ed.) The Homeric Hymns: Interpretative Essays. Oxford: 175-205.

Feeney, D.C. (1991) The Gods in Epic. Oxford.

Feldherr, A. (2002) ‘Metamorphosis in the Metamorphoses’. in Hardie, P. (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to Ovid. Cambridge: 163-179.

Felton, D. (2012) “Rejecting and Embracing the Monstrous in Ancient Greece and Rome.” In Mittman, A.S., and P. Dendle (eds.), The Ashgate Research Companion to Monsters and the Monstrous. Farnham: 103-131.

Fletcher, J. (2008) “A Trickster’s Oaths in the ‘Homeric Hymn to Hermes.’” The American Journal of Philology 129: 19–46.

Foley, H. (1994) The Homeric Hymn to Demeter: translation, commentary, and interpretive essays. Princeton.

216 Foley, J.M. (1997) “Oral Tradition and its Implications”, in Morris, I., and B. Powell (eds.) A New Companion to Homer. Leiden: 146-173.

Forbes Irving, P.M.C. (1990) Metamorphosis in Greek Myths. Oxford.

Frontisi-Ducroux, F. (2003) L’homme-cerf et la femme-araignée: figures grecques de la métamorphose. Paris.

Furley, W.D. (1981) Studies in the use of fire in ancient Greek religion. New York.

Fusillo, M. (1985) Il tempo delle Argonautiche. Rome.

Gantz, T. (1993) Early Greek Myth. Baltimore; London.

García, J.F. (2002) “Symbolic Action in the Homeric Hymns: The Theme of Recognition”, Classical Antiquity 21 (1): 5-39.

Gasparri, C. (1986) “Dionysos” LIMC III. (ATHERION-EROS). Zurich: 414-514.

Genette, G. (1983) Narrative Discourse: An Essay in Method. Translated by J.E. Lewin. Ithaca.

Gerber, D.E. (1982) Pindar’s Olympian One – A Commentary. Toronto; London.

Goslin, O. (2010) “Hesiod's Typhonomachy and the Ordering of Sound”, Transactions of the American Philological Association (1974-) 140: 351-373.

Graham, D.W. (2008) “Heraclitus: Flux, Order, and Knowledge”, in Curd, P., & Graham, D. (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Presocratic Philosophy. Oxford: 170- 189.

Gregory, J. (1985) “Some Aspects of Seeing in Euripides’ Bacchae”, Greece & Rome 32 no. 1: 23-31.

Griffin, J. (1977) “The Epic Cycle and the Uniqueness of Homer.” The Journal of Hellenic Studies 97: 39–53.

Griffith, R.D. (1993) “In the Dark Backward: Time in Pindaric Narrative”, Poetics Today 14 (4): 607–23.

Guillaume-Coirier, G. (1995) “Chiron Phillyride”, Kernos 8: 113-22.

Guthrie, W.K.C. (1962) A history of Greek philosophy. Cambridge.

217 Hainsworth, B. (1993) The Iliad – A Commentary. Volume III: books 9-12. Cambridge.

Hamilton, R. (1974) “Bacchae 47-52: Dionysus' Plan”. Transactions of the American Philological Association (1974-2014) 104: 139-149.

Hansen, W. (1997) “Homer and the Folktale”, in Morris, I., and B. Powell (eds.) A New Companion to Homer. Leiden: 442-462.

Hansen, W. (2000) “Foam-Born Aphrodite and the Mythology of Transformation” The American Journal of Philology 121, no. 1: 1–19.

Hansen, W. (2002) Ariadne’s Thread. Ithaca; London.

Hatto, A. (1961). ‘The Swan Maiden: a Folk-Tale of North Eurasian Origin?’ Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, 24 (2): 326-352.

Hawtree, L. (2014) “Animals in Epic” in Campbell, G.L. (ed.) The Oxford Handbook of Animals in Classical Thought and Life. Oxford: 73-83.

Heubeck, A., S. West and J.B. Hainsworth. (1998) A Commentary on Homer’s Odyssey, volume I. Oxford.

Hinds, S. (1998) Allusion and Intertext: Dynamics of Appropriation in Roman Poetry. Cambridge.

Hopkinson, N. (1984) Callimachus: Hymn to Demeter. Cambridge.

Hopman, M.G. (2012) Scylla: Myth, Metaphor, Paradox. Cambridge.

Hornblower, S. (2015) Lykophron: Alexandra. Oxford.

Hunter, R. (ed.) (2005). The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women: Constructions and Reconstructions. Cambridge.

Hunter, R. (2009) Critical Moments in Classical Literature: Studies in the Ancient View of Literature and Its Uses. Cambridge.

Hunter, R. (2012) Plato and the Traditions of Ancient Literature. Cambridge.

Hunter, R. (2014) ‘‘Where do I begin?’: An Odyssean narrative strategy’, in Cairns, D., and R. Scodel (eds.) Defining Greek Narrative. Edinburgh: 137–155.

Hunter, R. (2015) Apollonius of Rhodes: Argonautica Book IV. Cambridge.

218 Hurwit, J.M. (1991) “The Representation of Nature in Early Greek Art”, in New Perspectives on Early Greek Art. 33-62.

Hurwit, J.M. (2006) “Lizards, Lions, and the Uncanny in Early Greek Art”, Hesperia: The Journal of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens 75 no. 1: 121-136.

Hutchinson, G.O. (2007) “The Monster and the Monologue: Polyphemus from Homer to Ovid” in Finglass, P., C Collard, N. J Richardson, M. L West (eds.), Hesperos: Studies in Ancient Greek Poetry Presented to M.L. West on His Seventieth Birthday. Oxford: 22–39.

Iser, W. (1991) The Act of Reading: A Theory of Aesthetic Response. Baltimore.

Jaillard, D. (2011) “The Seventh Homeric Hymn to Dionysus: An Epiphanic Sketch”, in Faulkner, A. (ed.), The Homeric Hymns: Interpretative Essays. Oxford: 133–150.

Jauss, H.R. (1982) Toward an Aesthetic of Reception. Translated by T. Bahti. Minneapolis.

Johnston, S.I. (1999) Restless dead: encounters between the living and the dead in ancient Greece. Berkeley.

King, H. (1983) ‘Bound to Bleed: Artemis and Greek Women’ in Cameron, A. and A. Kuhrt. (eds) Images of women in antiquity. Abingdon: 109-127.

Kirk, G.S. (1985) The Iliad – A Commentary. Volume I: books 1-4. Cambridge.

Kirk, G.S., and J.E. Raven (1957) The presocratic philosophers: a critical history with a selection of texts. London.

Koepping, K.-P. (1985) “Absurdity and Hidden Truth: Cunning Intelligence and Grotesque Body Images as Manifestations of the Trickster”, History of Religions 24: 191–214.

Kvideland, R., and H.K. Sehmsdorf (1988) Scandinavian Folk Belief and Legend. Minneapolis.

Kullman, W. (2015) “Neoanalysis, Homer, and Cyclic epic”, in Fantuzzi, M., and C. Tsagalis (eds.) The Greek Epic Cycle and its Ancient Reception. Cambridge: 108- 125.

219 Kyriakou, P. (1994) “Empedoclean Echoes in Apollonius’ Rhodius’ Argonautica” Hermes 122: 309-319.

Larson, J. (2001) Greek nymphs: myth, cult, lore. Oxford.

Larson, J. (2007) “A Land Full of Gods: Nature Deities in Greek Religion”, in Ogden, D. (ed.) A Companion to Greek Religion. Oxford: 56-70.

Lichtheim, M. (2006 [1973]) Ancient Egyptian Literature: Volume I: The Old and Middle Kingdoms. Berkeley.

Liveley, G. (2019) Narratology. Oxford.

Livrea, E. (1973) Argonauticon. Liber 4. Firenze.

Lonsdale, S. (1988) “Protean Forms and Disguise in ‘Odyssey’ 4”. Lexis 2: 165-178.

Lonsdale, S. (1989) “If Looks Could Kill: παπταίνω and the Interpenetration of Imagery and Narrative in Homer”, The Classical Journal 84: 325-333.

Louden, B. (2011) Homer's Odyssey and the Near East. Cambridge.

Lovatt, H. (2013) The Epic Gaze. Cambridge.

Lyons, D. (1997) Gender and immortality: heroines in ancient Greek myth and cult. Princeton.

MacCulloch, J.A. (1996 [1918]) Celtic Mythology. Chicago.

Magrath, W.T. (1982). “Progression of the Lion Simile in the Odyssey” The Classical Journal 77 (3): 205–12.

Marincola, J. (2007) “Odysseus and the Historians” Syllecta Classica 18: 1-79.

Mastronarde, D. (2002) Euripides: Medea. Cambridge.

Miller, A.M. (1986) From Delos to Delphi. A Literary Study of the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. Leiden.

Mills, S. (2000). “Achilles, Patroclus and Parental Care in Some Homeric Similes” Greece & Rome 47 (1): 3–18.

Mills, S. (2016) “The Grandsons of Cadmus” in Stuttard, D. (ed.) Looking at Bacchae. London: 133-46.

220 Moignard, E. (1998) “How to Make a Monster.” Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 42, no. 71: 209–217.

Moorwood, J. (2016) “Horrid Laughter in Euripides’ Bacchae” in Stuttard, D. (ed.) Looking at Bacchae. London: 91-6.

Morris, S. (1997) ‘Homer and the Near East”, in Morris, I. and B. Powell (eds) A New Companion to Homer. Leiden: 599-623.

Morrison, A. D. (2007a) Performances and Audiences in Pindar’s Sicilian Victory Odes. London.

Morrison, A. D. (2007b) The Narrator in Archaic Greek and Hellenistic Poetry. Cambridge.

Moulton, C. (1977) Similes in the Homeric Poems. Göttingen.

Mourelatos, A.P.D. (2008) “The Cloud‐Astrophysics of Xenophanes and Ionian Material Monism” in Curd, P., & Graham, D. (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Presocratic Philosophy. Oxford: 134-169.

Mueller, G.E. (1936) “Plato and the Gods”, The Philosophical Review 45: 457–472.

Murnaghan, S. (2010) Disguise and Recognition in the Odyssey. 2nd ed. Lanham, Md.

Nagy, G. (1979) The Best of the Achaeans. London.

Ogden, D. (2013) Drakõn. Oxford.

Ormand, K. (2004) “Marriage, Identity, and the Tale of Mestra in the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women” The American Journal of Philology 125: 303-338.

Ormand, K. (2014) The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women and Archaic Greece. Cambridge.

Osborne, R. (2005) “Ordering women in Hesiod's Catalogue”, in Hunter, R, (ed.) The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women. Cambridge: 5-24.

Overduin, F. (2014) ‘The Anti-Bucolic World of Nicander’s Theriaca’. The Classical Quarterly 64 (2): 623–41.

221 Parry, M. (1971) The Making of a Homeric Verse: The Collected Papers of Milman Parry. Oxford.

Peirano, I. (2013) “Ille ego qui quondam: on authorial (an)onymity” in Marmodoro, A., J. Hill, J. (eds.), The Author’s Voice in Classical and Late Antiquity. Oxford.

Peradotto, J. (1990) The Man in the Middle: Name and Narration in Homer’s Odyssey. Princeton.

Petridou, G. (2016) Divine Epiphany in Greek Literature and Culture. Oxford.

Plass, P. (1969) ‘Menelaus and Proteus’ The Classical Journal 65: 104–108.

Platt, V. (2011) Facing the Gods. Cambridge.

Propp, V. (1968) Morphology of the folktale. Translated by Lawrence Scott. 2nd edition, rev. ed. L. Wagner. Austin.

Pucci, P. (1987) Odysseus Polutropos: Intertextual Readings in the Odyssey and the Iliad. Ithaca; London.

Pucci, P. (1977) Hesiod and the Language of Poetry. Baltimore; London.

Purves, A.C. (2010) Space and Time in Ancient Greek Narrative. Cambridge.

Reinhardt, K. (1996) “The Adventures in the Odyssey”, in Schein, S. (ed.) Reading the Odyssey. Princeton: 63-132.

Rengakos, A. (2015) “Aithiopis”, in Fantuzzi, M., and C. Tsagalis (eds.) The Greek Epic Cycle and its Ancient Reception. Cambridge: 306-17.

Richardson, N. (1993) The Iliad: A Commentary, volume VI: books 21-24. Cambridge.

Richardson, N.J. (1974) The Homeric Hymn to Demeter. Oxford.

Richardson, N.J. (2010) Three Homeric hymns: To Apollo, Hermes, and Aphrodite, hymns 3, 4, and 5. Cambridge.

Ricketts, M.L. (1966) “The North American Indian Trickster”, History of Religions 5: 327–350.

Rinon, Y. (2006) “Tragic Hephaestus: The Humanized God in the Iliad and the Odyssey” Phoenix 60: 1-20.

222 Roisman, H.M. (2016) “Euripides’ Bacchae – A Revenge Play”, in Stuttard, D. (ed.) Looking at Bacchae. London: 121-131.

Rutherford, I. (2005) “Mestra at Athens: Hesiod Fr. 43 and the Poetics of Panhellenism”, in Hunter, R. (ed.) The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women: Constructions and Reconstructions. Cambridge: 99–117.

Schlam, C.C. (1984) “Diana and Actaeon: Metamorphoses of a Myth” Classical Antiquity 3 no. 1: 82-110.

Scobie, A. (1977) “Some Folktales in Graeco-Roman and Far Eastern Sources” Philologus 121: 1-23.

Scott, W.C. (1974). The Oral Nature of the Homeric Simile. Leiden.

Scott, W.C. (2006) “Similes in a Shifting Scene: Iliad, Book 11” Classical Philology 101 (2): 103–14.

Scully, S. (2018) “Hesiodic Poetics” in Loney, A.C., and S. Scully (eds.) The Oxford Handbook of Hesiod. Oxford: 81-93.

Seaford, R. (1996) Euripides: Bacchae. Warminster.

Segal, C. (1971) The Theme of the Mutilation of the Corpse in the Iliad. Leiden.

Segal, C. (1978) “’The Myth Was Saved’: Reflections on Homer and the Mythology of Plato’s Republic.” Hermes 106: 315–336.

Segal, C. (1982) Dionysiac Poetics and Euripides’ Bacchae. Princeton.

Segal, C. (1986) Interpreting Greek tragedy: myth, poetry, text. Ithaca.

Segal, C. (1998) ‘Ovid’s Metamorphic Bodies: Art, Gender, and Violence in the “Metamorphoses”’ Arion: A Journal of Humanities and the Classics 5, no. 3: 9–41.

Sharrock, A. (1994) Seduction and Repetition in Ovid’s Ars Amatoria II. Oxford.

Sharrock, A. (2000) “Intratextuality: Texts, Parts, and (W)holes in Theory”, in Sharrock, A. and H. Morales (eds.) Intratextuality: Greek and Roman Textual Relations. Oxford. 1-39.

Sharrock, A., and H. Morales (eds.) (2000). Intratextuality: Greek and Roman Textual Relations. Oxford.

223 Slater, W.J. (1976) “Symposium at Sea” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 80: 161-170.

Slatkin, L.M. (1986) “The Wrath of Thetis”, Transactions of the American Philological Association (1974-) 116: 1-24.

Slatkin, L.M. (1991) The Power of Thetis: Allusion and Interpretation in the Iliad. Berkeley; Oxford.

Sommerstein, A.H. (2016) “Bacchae and Earlier Tragedy” in Stuttard, D. (ed.) Looking at Bacchae. London: 29-41.

Stanford, W.B. (1954) The Ulysses theme: a study in the adaptability of a traditional hero. Oxford.

Steiner, D.T. (1995) “Stoning and Sight: A Structural Equivalence in Greek Mythology”, Classical Antiquity 14, no. 1: 193–211.

Steiner, D.T. (2001) Images in Mind. Princeton.

Thompson, S. (1971) Tales of the North American Indians. Bloomington.

Thumiger, C. (2014) “Metamorphosis: Humans into Animals” in Campbell, G.L. (ed.) The Oxford Handbook of Animals in Classical Thought and Life. Oxford: 384-413.

Topper, K. (2007) “Perseus, the Maiden Medusa, and the Imagery of Abduction.” Hesperia: The Journal of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens 76, no. 1: 73–105.

Tsagalis, C. (2009) “Poetry and Poetcs in the Hesiodic Corpus”, in Montanari, F., C. Tsagalis and A. Rengakos (eds.) Brill’s Companion to Hesiod. Leiden: 131-177.

Turkeltaub, D. (2005) ‘The Syntax and Semantics of Homeric Glowing Eyes: Iliad 1.200, The American Journal of Philology, 126 no.2: 157-186.

Uhlig, A. (2018) “Sailing and Singing: Alcaeus at Sea” in Budelmann, F. and T. Philips (eds.) Textual Events. Oxford: 63-91.

Van Noorden, H. (2015) Playing Hesiod: The ‘Myth of the Races in Classical Antiquity. Cambridge.

Vermeule, E. (1979) Aspects of Death in Early Greek Art and Poetry. Berkeley.

224 Vian, F. (1981) Argonautiques: chant III. Paris.

Vidal-Naquet, P. (1986) The Black Hunter: Forms of Thought and Forms of Society in the Greek World. Baltimore; London.

West, M.L. (1966) Hesiod: Theogony. Oxford.

West, M.L. (1985) The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women: its nature, structure, and origins. Oxford.

West, M.L. (2001) “The Fragmentary Homeric Hymn to Dionysus.” Zeitschrift Für Papyrologie Und Epigraphik 134: 1–11.

West, S. (1998) “Odyssey: Books 1-4” in Heubeck, A., S. West and J.B. Hainsworth. (1998) A Commentary on Homer’s Odyssey, volume I. Oxford.

Williams, M.H. (2013) “Playing with Fire: Prometheus and the Mythological Consciousness” in Zajko, V., and Ellen O’Gorman (eds.), Classical myth and psychoanalysis: ancient and modern stories of the self. Oxford: 233-250.

Wittgenstein, L. (2009 [1953]) Philosophical Investigations. 4th edn. Edited by Hacker, P. M. S., and J. Schulte. Translated by G.E.M. Anscombe, P.M.S. Hacker, and J. Schulte. Chichester.

Wyles, R. (2016) “Staging in Bacchae” in Stuttard, D. (ed.) Looking at Bacchae. London: 59-70.

Zeitlin, F.I. (1994) “The Artful Eye: vision, ecphrasis and spectacle in Euripidean theatre” in Goldhill, S. and R. Osborne (eds.) Art and text in ancient Greek culture. Cambridge: 138-196.

Ziogas, I. (2013) Ovid and Hesiod: The Metamorphosis of the Catalogue of Women. Cambridge.

225 Appendix

Figure 1: The ‘Dionysus Cup’ of Exekias depicting Dionysus at sea surrounded by dolphins, c.530BC, held in the Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek München, inv. 2044

Figure 2: Detail from a black- figure neck- amphora depicting Peleus wrestling with Thetis, 520- 500BC, held in the British Museum, inv. 1843,1103.60.

226

Figure 3: Athenian black- figure amphora depicting Peleus wrestling with Thetis, 550-500BC, held in the Museo Archeological Nazionale di Napoli, inv. 81178

Figure 4: Red-figure bobbin depicting Peleus wrestling with Thetis, 475-425BC, held in the National Archaeological Museum of Athens, inv. 2192

227 Figure 5: Red-figure cup depicting a Lapith defeating a centaur, 500-450BC, held in the Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek, München, inv. 2640. Image © Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek, München

Figure 6:

Attic terracotta stand with Gorgoneion in black-figure, ca. 570BC, held in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, inv. 31.11.4

228 Figure 7: Black-figure belly amphora depicting Chiron observing the battle between Peleus and Thetis, 525-475BC, held in the Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek, München, inv. 1415. Image © Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek, München

Figure 8:

Attic black-figure amphora depicting Heracles wrestling with Achelous in hybrid bull- anthropomorphic form, ca. 500BC, held in the British Museum, inv. 1843,1103.23. Image © The Trustees of the British Museum

229 Figure 9: Black-figure hydria depicting Heracles wrestling with Achelous, 510- 500BC, held in the British Museum, inv. 1837,0609.49. Image © The Trustees of the British Museum

230