Beware the Evil Eye’ a Closer Glance at a Recent Title

‘BEWARE THE EVIL EYE’ A CLOSER GLANCE AT A RECENT TITLE

The age-old and universal belief that a human being could wittingly or unwittingly cause misfortune, injury, or even death to another person by casting an unseen emanation from the eye embodies a concept that requires little introduction, even in today’s modern world of computers, ‘smart’-phones, autonomous cars, and artificial intelligence. The notion of the ‘Evil Eye’ appears tightly bound up with the idea that there existed in ancient communities a limited bounty of natural resources, whether tangible or intangible, from which animal, human, and even divine forces, could draw upon for sustenance, livelihood, prosperity, success, repute, and societal honor. The projection of a malevolent glance against an unwary target could, in part, seek to acquire a set of goods or other indiscernible benefits that would not otherwise be available to the propagator. In this respect, the Evil Eye was closely aligned from the beginning, in the ancient literature, with jealousy and envy (Gk. φθόνος, ζηλοτυπία), whether it was the envy of someone else’s fruit-bearing crops, another’s beautiful child, or a competitor’s successful business. The workings of the Evil Eye also pre- supposed an active and emanative physiology of vision rarely advocated in today’s scientific community which interprets the eye as a passive ‘lens’ receiving reflected light from a remote object as an inverted image on the retina that the brain then reverts. A recent four-volume work by John H. Elliott, whose initial tome appeared more than three years ago, has now come to complete fruition with the publication of the final volume in the series, namely, that dealing with the Evil Eye in the world of post-Biblical Jewish and Christian antiq- uity1. With the consummation of this memorable academic achievement of so many years of research, its seems beneficial at this time to bring these volumes to the attention of interested readers of this journal by offering a modest overview of the author’s work in the form of a review article. Elliott’s compendium on the Evil Eye in antiquity is a work of tremen- dous industry, enormous scholarship, and personal devotion, encompass- ing some 1219 pages (+ 123 illustrations) on the culture and history of a phenomenon so widespread as to cover the ancient Near Eastern, Egyp- tian, Greco-Roman, and circum-Mediterranean societies from the earliest

1 Elliott, Beware the Evil Eye.

Le Muséon 131 (1-2), 217-237. doi: 10.2143/MUS.131.1.3284840 - Tous droits réservés. © Le Muséon, 2018. 218 R.D. KOTANSKY recorded documents of the 3rd millenium BCE to the late antique Byzan- tine Amulettswesen and post-Biblical citations of the later Church Fathers. A fresh assessment and update, of sorts, of the material covered in Selig- mann’s magisterial two-volume work, Der Böse Blick und Verwandtes (1910), Elliott’s encyclopedic contribution offers an examination of the texts and documents related to the phenomenon of the Evil Eye that is more wide-ranging and comprehensive than any of his predecessors’ (e.g., Jahn [1855], Elworthy [1895], Seligmann [1910], Rakoczy [1996], etc.), whom he duly acknowledges (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 59). The work will remain the standard assessment of the belief in the Evil Eye for many generations to come, especially in respect of his treatment of the Biblical material (Elliott, vol. 3), for which his work, overall, is intended as a wide-ranging background-study for the concept as it pertains to Holy Writ, especially to the New Testament, the area of the author’s specialty. Overall, Elliott’s is a very impressive oeuvre and is to be highly recommended. Vol. 1, following a 76-page Introduction (ch. 1), presents the Meso- potamian and Egyptian material in a single, second chapter, followed by a lengthy Bibliography. The Introduction lays out the author’s approach and presuppositions in a thorough and convincing manner, including an over- view of research with a comprehensive examination of theories and views. Most helpful are his reviews of modern literature, language, and social back- ground, as well as his perceptive observations on the distinction between jealousy and envy as it pertains to the Evil Eye (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 22). Although discussed in greater detail later on, and throughout his work in general, Elliott’s pertinent awareness that the Evil Eye complex is pred- icated on an ancient theory of vision presupposing that the instrument of the eye acts as an extramissional anatomical device that projects rays, or emanations, outward to meet the object of its vision, represents a concept that cannot be overemphasized. This theory of vision is cogently argued by Elliott throughout his work, and it is one that has much to commend it. In this he correctly follows the modern research of Rupert Sheldrake and Dean Radin on the extramissional theory of vision (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 67f.)2. One idea that Elliott seems to misunderstand, however, is the concept that the Evil Eye is somehow not related to ‘magical’ thinking, but is rather a natural, as opposed to supernatural phenomenon; it is a premise that he goes to lengths to defend (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 61-68). But here, I think, he is not fully appreciating the fact that it is not the ‘magicalness’ of the Evil Eye that is in question, but rather that it is the means of protecting from it that both involves and pertains to what is ‘magic’ (sc., by the use of amulets,

2 Sheldrake, The Sense of Being Stared At; Radin, The Conscious Universe. ‘BEWARE THE EVIL EYE’ 219 incantations, spitting rituals, and the like). The cause of the Evil Eye may not, to him, belong to the social matrix of magical belief, but that is not the issue at stake. What does, in ancient social thought, belong to the world of ‘magical’ belief, one may ask? Demons, spirits, the stars, and other malevolent influences can be thought to be the cause of bad luck, harm, or daimonic possession – all part of ‘magical’ thinking, it can be supposed – but how one is to be protected from the bad and to promote the influence of the good in life, is really what proves most pertinent. Amulets and other apotropaic means, as opposed to prayer, on the other hand, or other forms of divine healing (laying on of hands, incubation, lustration, sacrifice, etc.), pertain to the protection of individuals from the Evil Eye in just the same way that ‘non-rational’ methods apply to the warding off of demons, spirit-causing infirmities, bad influences, and witchery. I know of no instances where a sufferer, or patient, went to a doctor (iatros), or even a priestly- / divine-healer (iatromantis) to effect a cure for the Evil Eye. No incubation rites, prayers, or sacrifices, are recorded for the healing of the Evil Eye, only ‘magical’ means. Fever, headache, or epilepsy may have had natural causes in popular thinking and in medical prognosis; but it could well have had supernatural causes, as well. Thus, such medical complaints can resort to a means of protection that involves both ‘super- natural’ methodologies (i.e., the use of amulets, incantations, spitting ritu- als, and the like), and more ‘natural’ approaches. Such is not the case with the Evil Eye, which belongs to the world of ‘magic’, despite its quasi- scientific cause (e.g., extra-transmissional emanation). Elliott is confusing causation with cure. The means employed to protect and ward off the Evil Eye were always ‘magical’, and not rational. No ancient sufferer resorted to standard medical care for a cure against the Evil Eye, but used ‘magical’ means for deliverance. In this regard the Evil Eye is even more ‘magical’ and superstitious than other medical complaints and diseases, for the latter had the benefit of doctors, as well as magicians, for remedy. The former did not. The concept of the Evil Eye and protection from it belongs right up there with the categories of demonology and demonic possession, and with the ‘magical’ prophylaxis of it. Chapter 2 is wholly devoted to the concept of the Evil Eye in Mesopo- tamia and Egypt. In contrast with the work of Thomsen3, Elliott demon- strates that the Evil Eye is more widely reported in the Mesopotamian cuneiform and other texts than is generally accepted (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 77- 114). Marshalling examples from Sumerian, Akkadian, and Ugaritic texts, Elliott translates, briefly discusses, and provides the relevant bibliography

3 Thomsen, The Evil Eye in Mesopotamia. 220 R.D. KOTANSKY for most of the extant examples of incantations against the Eye (Sumerian, igi; īnu / īni, Akkadian; ‘nn, Ugaritic; ‘ayin, Hebrew; aina, Mandaic; ‘ayn, Arabic), also called ‘Evil’ (e.g., Sumerian, igi-ḫul). But less common than the ‘liturgical’ incantations are actual amulets that ward off the Evil Eye (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 105f.). Elliott can only give instances of general eye-symbols on a cylinder seal and other pendants (of unclear date), that are probably unrelated to the concept of the Evil Eye, as well as a very late incantation bowl in Aramaic from Mesopotamia (ca. 300-600 CE), mentioning ‘yn’ bishta, as possible protective devices for the Evil Eye. This paucity of amulets against the Evil Eye, in contrast to actual texts that mention it, is mirrored in the earlier Roman period amulets, as well, where specific protective devices are rare, appearing only in the late antique bronze pendants, and the like, as if there were a recrudescence in popular belief about the Evil Eye in later antiquity4. This absence in the earlier documents represents a social phenomenon that could benefit, perhaps, from further study. When it comes to the Egyptian period, we stand on less certain ground about the origins of the Evil Eye, argues Elliott. Early on, he states une- quivocally that ‘When the concept of the Evil Eye first emerged in Egypt is difficult to say, since its explicit mention in ancient Egyptian sources is infrequent and mostly in later sources’ (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 116). He speci­ fies, shortly thereafter, that the first explicit mention only comes around 663 BCE (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 117), at the beginning of the Saitic period. Over-and-against W. Spiegelberg’s (1924) tenet, so Elliott notes, that the concept could only have arrived in later Egypt via the Nubians or Libyans, Budge (1930) had argued that the Evil Eye could be traced back to the earliest 3rd millenium Pyramid Texts. Elliott then quotes, but cites no ancient texts, the works of Potts (1982) and Pinch (1994), who are not trained Egyptologists, in order to substantiate an early belief in the Evil Eye in Pharaonic Egypt (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 117). But in the end Elliott favors, perhaps correctly, a Mesopotamian origin of the concept, over- and-against Rakoczy’s (1996) assertion – again, with no apparent refer- ence to ancient texts – that the Evil Eye originated in Egypt. Elliott rightly

4 The Greek Magical Papyri (PGM), which Elliott does not bring into discussion, also shows very little attention to the concept of the Evil Eye. The noun βασκανία, personi- fied as Βασκανία Χθονία (‘Chthonic Witchery’) in PGM IV.1451, and βασκοσύνη in PGM VIII.34 (‘slander’) are the only occurrences in the non-Christian papyri; PGM 3.4, a late Christian spell, mentions the fascinating ‘βασκοσύνη of all aerial spirits and human eye’, which surely deserves closer scrutiny. A late Christian spell (5th/6th century) in Daniel – Maltomini, Supplementum Magicum, vol. I, 31.4 also mentions βασκοσύνη (‘every malignity’). These are the only occurrences of the βασκ- group in all of the extant magical papyri. ‘BEWARE THE EVIL EYE’ 221 discusses at some length the notion of the eye, overall, in Egypt, with special attention to the sound eye of Horus, known as the udjat (or wedjat) Eye, an apotropaic device found widespread in numerous archaeological and literary contexts. The udjat-eye is an amulet that is representative of the state of soundness or wholeness, and Elliott is no doubt correct in sug- gesting that its omnipresence surely points to an apotropaic device used to combat harmful influences, ‘particularly the Evil Eye’, by the principal of similia similibus (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 124, 125) and that ‘Representations of the wedjat ... Eye of Horus were also worn as personal amulets for protec- tion against the Evil Eye’ (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 128), although he cites no specific ancient texts. He argues rather that the belief in the Evil Eye must have existed in early Dynastic Egypt because the later-attested concept could not ‘have arisen out of thin air’ (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 122). But there may be more evidence in early Egypt for the Evil Eye than Elliott takes advantage of. The passing reference to a demon with the Evil Eye in a Coffin Text (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 122, n. 227), citing Borghouts (the reference in the Bibliography is tricky to find, for Elliott lists it under Bo[ur]ghouts), gives no text, provides no discussion, and seems to men- tion one of the least important of the many texts Borghouts cites. Simi- larly, in his brief section on The Evil Eye of Apopis/Apophis (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 131f.), Elliott again refers to ‘Borghouts 1973’ in a footnote, but does not advance Borghouts’ important discussion, nor the text of, Coffin Text II [160], 375bff, with its later recension in the Book of the Dead 108. Instead, he relies more on undocumented quotes from Potts, Pinch, and Rakoczy rather than the numerous invaluable ancient sources that Borg- houts cites and discusses. The J.F. Borghouts’ 1973 article in question is his The Evil Eye of Apopis5, that begins with a discussion from the Coffin Text of a fairly certain Egyptian reference to the concept of the Evil Eye in a historiola about Seth rescuing the Sun-god, Ra, from the harmful influence of the evil glance of the Apopis snake. In the context of this account, Borghouts also discusses a sizeable body of supportive material on the Evil Eye that Elliott, again, does not make full use of. Without citing the full text of this important CT spell, we mention that the short mythic account describes a mountain top on which the god Sebek dwells in a house of carnelian; on top of the mountain is a giant snake named, ‘Who is on his mountain, who is in his flame’ (identified, inter alia, with Apopis in a gloss at the end of the section in the Book of the Dead), a snake who in the evening time (sc. at sunset) fixes his gaze towards Rē‘ and causes the crew among

5 Borghouts, The Evil Eye of Apopis. 222 R.D. KOTANSKY the solar bark to become transfixed and come to a halt. This requires the intervention of Seth, who releases the boat while addressing the snake with the following words: ‘You who see from afar, just close your eye! I have ensnared you – I am a robust male! Cover your head ...’, etc.6 Although no Evil Eye is mentioned by name (it rarely is, even in later Greek and Roman literature), it is clear that Seth is able to neutralize the power of the damaging eye of the snake by demanding it be closed and the serpent’s head covered. But Borghouts also adduces many convinc- ing parallels to the concept of various gods, especially Seth, having an evil, or harmful, eye, as well7, and more importantly he cites the numer- ous references in the Oracular Amuletic Decrees8 that explicitly refer to the Evil Eye (ir.t bin.t), so there is no compelling need for Elliott to cite Budge’s argument for the meaning of the term (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 122), nor to rely on less academic treatments of the subject. Borghouts traces the concept of the Evil Eye back to the Pyramid Texts and the Coffin Texts – and continues on to Roman times – with much of this material under-reported by Elliott. Thus, Elliott should not have wavered so much on the possibility of the Evil Eye in earlier Egyptian texts, nor have neglected the important amuletic oracular decrees, which date consider- ably earlier than 663 BCE, that is, from the Libyan, or Third Transitional, Period (ca. 1085-712 BCE). They do explicitly mention the Evil Eye repeatedly in their protective spells. For an excellent, recent example of the naming of the Evil Eye (‘I shall keep her safe from every evil eye’ = P.Ol. 25622, recto, between lines 30-35, in the Oriental Institute, Chicago) in such an ‘Oracular Amuletic Decree’, see the text, photograph, and translation, available on line9. Volume 2 deals with Greece and Rome. Here the material is quite interesting, if not questionable at times, especially in respect of the early Greek material. In the Greek citation of Pherecrates fr. 189 (= Kassel – Austin, PCG VII, p. 196, ὁ λαγώς με βασκαίνει τεθνηκώς), that Elliott introduces chapter 2 with (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 7), LSJ, s.v. βασκαίνω states that the fragment (= 174), means ‘malign; disparage’: sc. ‘the dead hare maligns me.’ But the apparatus of Kassel – Austin, loc. cit., interestingly enough, cites Zonaras, et al., to the effect that this verse was introduced with the caveat that ‘βασκαίνειν signifies not envying, but grieving,’ so that the phrase in Pherecrates really means ‘the dead hare grieves (or pains) me.’

6 Borghouts, The Evil Eye of Apopis, p. 115, italics mine. 7 Borghouts, The Evil Eye of Apopis, p. 143-146. 8 Edwards, Hieratic Papyri, p. 143, with notes 6-13. 9 http://www.google.com/amp/s/dianabuja.wordpress.com/2012/05/29/an-ancient-egyptian- magical-spell-to-protect-a-young-lady-from-everything/; cf. also Lucarelli, Popu­lar Beliefs. ‘BEWARE THE EVIL EYE’ 223

The comic writer is expressing sadness at the sight of the dead hare, whatever the context. Elliott thinks this refers to ‘Evil Eyeing by a dead animal’ against a hunter. But nothing is really said about a hunter, much less an Evil Eye – nor even an eye, at that – nor about envy, an important subset of the Evil Eye. Also, Homer, Iliad 1.105 probably has little to do with the Evil Eye (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 8f.). The passage describes Agamemnon seething with anger, addressing the seer Calchas. At first we read of Agamemnon’s being profoundly vexed, with his heart filled with black rage, ‘and his eyes were like flaming fire’ (ὄσσε δέ οἱ πυρὶ λαμπετόωντι ἐίκτην, 1.104) – that is, he was enraged. To this verse comes next the phrase, ‘First of all he addressed Chalcas, with a baleful look’ (Κάλχαντα πρώτιστα κάκ’ ὀσσόμενος προσέειπε, 1.105). The nuance is difficult, for the same for- mula can carry the sense of foreboding. Thus A.T. Murray’s wistful trans- lation in the Loeb Classical Library attempts it both ways: ‘ ... and his look threatened trouble.’ Here, though, Murray is correct in that the look does not create harm (κακά) by extramissional glance, but that what Agamemnon says itself portends trouble (κακά). LSJ, s.v. ὄσσομαι, similarly renders this ‘boding evil by his looks’. But this is not an extra-transmissional view of the Evil Eye issuing forth from Agamemnon’s eyes that causes harm to another. For this Elliott has to rely on the rather more gratuitous transla- tion of Robert Fagles: ‘With a sudden, killing look he wheeled on Calchas first,’ which I would take as a poetically free rendition (cf. the modern phrase, ‘if looks could kill’), not as a reference to the Evil Eye issuing forth harm (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 9). There is no extramissional view of the eye here, for the language is that of a poetic simile (ἐίκτην), common in Homer and all of literature. To suggest this is to read perhaps too much into the passage; one can cite the same formula, κάκ’ ὀσσόμενος, where such a use of the formula in reference to the eyes would be impossible: in Ody. 10.374, Odysseus, deep in thought (ἀλλοφρονέων), has a heart/ mood that forebodes ill: κακὰ δ’ ὄσσετο θυμός, ‘... and my heart forebode harmful things.’ In the lines that follow, Circe assures him that no future harm shall come to him and his comrades. His inner ‘vision’ is one of ‘foreseeing’ in his heart a danger that lies ahead – perhaps that related to the destruction of the suitors (see below) – and not that relative to him. The same, more or less, can be said of the message that the goddess Iris gives to Priam in Il. 24.172f., when she says to him, ‘For I have come to you, with good intentions, and not foreboding any evil to you’ (ἐγὼ κακὸν ὀσσομένη τόδ’ ἱκάνω, κτλ.). In Ody. 2.152 – a passage not discussed by Elliott – a related formula occurs when it is said that two eagles sent by Zeus flew together from a 224 R.D. KOTANSKY mountain peak but upon reaching the assembly of Telemachus among the suitors, turned on each other, flapped their wings about – and before tearing at each other, talon and beak – ‘looked down upon the heads of all and bode destruction’ (ἐς δ’ ἰδέτην πάντων κεφαλάς, ὄσσοντο δ’ ὄλεθρον). The curious passage is wrought with problems, however: first the reading of the dual ‘they saw’ (ἰδέτην) has a varia lectio ἰκέτην; second, how does one take the second part of the verse? The Loeb trans- lator (again, Murray) writes, ‘and down on the heads of all they looked, and death was in their glare,’ thus imitating the double-entendre of his earlier translation. But Murray is not referring to a death-causing glare, but rather that the eagles saw the portent of death with their own eyes, and thus proceeded with the midair combat, and then flew away. The lexica (LSJ and Cunliffe, Lexicon of the Homeric Dialect) are more accurate in agreeing to take the verb ὄσσομαι as ‘to bode, foretell’, so that the phrase should be best rendered, ‘... and they forebode destruction.’ But what of the fact that the eagles are said to first ‘look down upon’ the suit- ors before casting an ‘eye of destruction’, so to speak, upon them? Could they be said to represent animals casting the Evil Eye upon the miscreant suitors as if to cause their destruction? Hardly. Rather, the appearance of the birds and their subsequent mid-flight tussle in which they look down upon the suitors and ‘see’, is a vision of the future, not the vision of destruction; that is, they forecast the suitors’ own destruction in an entirely prophetic manner, not that they cause it. This we know from the verses that follow, where the viewers are said to ponder in their hearts on ‘what was to come to pass’ (τελέεσθαι ἔμελλον, 156), whereupon the seer Halitherses, interprets the events to mean that Odysseus will return and sow a fateful death among the suitors (161-176), although Eurymachus tries to counter him (177-194). Thus, even the clever pairing of ἰδέτην (if the correct reading) with ὄσσοντο, though hardly accidental, can be seen as nothing other than a prophetic prognostication. The ‘sighting’ of the eagles is not an extramissional casting of a baleful eye, as if ‘cursing’ the suitors, but rather a description of a vision of prophecy, as the birds look down upon the suitors and ‘see’ their future destruction. Thus Halitherses’ prophecy will prove the correct one, and as we saw in reference to Odysseus’ own inner thoughts and ‘visions’ in Ody. 10.374, perhaps the thoughts of the hero himself were unwittingly forecasting the awful destruction of the suitors at his own hands, once he returns home, a return, though prema- ture at this point, that is oddly echoed in the very words of his comrades in 419-421. The supposed reference to the Evil Eye in Hesiod, Theog. 222 (κακὴν ὄπιν) is also probably doubtful (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 9). The noun, ὄπις, ‘BEWARE THE EVIL EYE’ 225 refers either to 1. ‘divine vengeance’, or ‘visitation’ (of the gods); or, 2. ‘religious awe’ or ‘veneration’ (on the part of humans), even ‘pious care’. It has no guaranteed etymological connection with ὄψ = ὄψις, ‘sight’; ‘vision’; ‘face’, with which it may have been confused: ὄψις itself is a noun related to ὄπωπα, the 2 pf. form of ὁράω, whose future ὄψομαι suggests the root *ὀπ-, and thus an etymological link with ὁράω remains a possibility. But ὄπις does not seem to be used of sight, really, but compares rather better with Homeric ὀπίζομαι, ‘feel awe; reverence’; and the rare noun ὀπιδνός, ‘dreaded’; ‘awful.’ The noun also occurs in Hesiod, Works and Days, of the ‘anger’ of the immortal gods. Elliott seems to be following Th. Rakoczy here (Böser Blick. Macht der Auges und Neid der Götter..., Tübingen, 1996). Similarly, στυγερώπης, ‘of loath- some appearance’; ‘horrible’ (a hapax legomenon), used in Hesiod, Works and Days 196, to describe ζῆλος cannot be espoused as an example of Evil-Eye beliefs in earlier Greece. The noun is passive, not active; in other words, it describes how loathsome or hateful the appearance of Envy is, not how its eyes project an emanation of some sort. Elliott again follows Rakoczy’s understanding that this is the first time in literature where an explicit reference is made to an ‘envious glance’ (Neidblick) (vol. 2, p. 9). Further, to appeal to Rakoczy’s speculation that the ‘relatively infrequent mention of the Evil Eye in the early period’ (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 8) is due to some kind of conceived Sprachtabu against naming the phenomenon, is to perpetuate a theory that is largely circular in reasoning and one that is based on uncertain philology to begin with; it thus forces the author to accept a number of passages that have been perhaps misinterpreted by Rakoczy, for which Elliott himself cannot be wholly blamed. Part of the problem may rest in the fact that Elliott does not discuss the philological issues from the very start, but turns to them at a later time (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 23-48), after discussing some of the material. The philological evidence is not easily analyzed, to be sure. What Elliott does is to espouse the view that the verb βασκαίνω and its cognates almost always refer to the Evil Eye. The verb, as he acknowledges, does carry a polyvalence of meaning, but it is not always clear that an explicit reference to the Evil Eye is meant; sometimes, envy is intended, as Elliott rightly observes, but even though this concept is explicitly related to the Evil Eye, many times in the literature the verb can carry the sense of to ‘malign,’ ‘disparage’, or ‘grudge,’ with no relationship to the Evil Eye, at all. With that in mind, let us look more closely at the terminology: βασκαίνω means, according to LSJ, ‘to bewitch, by the evil eye, etc.’, with Aristotle’s Problemata 926b24, providing a singular reference possibly dealing with the sense of an ‘Evil Eye’, about which we have more to say briefly. The 226 R.D. KOTANSKY other, more usual senses of the verb, however, are as follows: 1) ‘to malign, disparage’ (+ acc.); and 2) ‘to envy, grudge’ (+ dat.). These uses of the verb are commonly found throughout Greek literature. Although Elliott rightly acknowledges these meanings, he chooses to translate this verb in all instances – or, in as many cases as the philology will stand to bear – with the sense of ‘to evil eye (someone).’ But many references in the literature that use this verb do so with no other sense than ‘to malign’, or ‘disparage.’ It is not a proven fact that the users of this verb wish to always convey the sense of ‘evil-eyeing’ that Elliott imputes to the verb. This primary verb then provides us with the abstract noun, βασκανία, whose senses, again, seem polyvalent and can be delineated as follows (according to LSJ): 1) malign influence, witchery; 2) malignity; 3) jealousy. Clearly, the sense of the noun carries with it some inherent notion of ‘witchery’ and ‘malignity’ – concepts that must somehow be related – but the explicit notion of the anatomy of the eye is wanting, either in etymol- ogy or usage. A notion of an evil eye might have derived from it, but this is secondary, it would seem; no references, really, in LSJ carry the specific sense of ‘evil-eyeing’. The noun ὁ βάσκανος, is ‘one who bewitches, sor- cerer, slanderer’, again oddly combining the sense of witchery and slander, as does the similarly shaped adjective, βάσκανος, which only means ‘slan- derous; malicious’ (and not ‘bewitching’). For the sense of Evil Eye, the attachment of the noun seems to be required, sc. βάσκανος ὀφθαλμός. This is usually rendered, ‘the evil eye’, and surely that is the true concept, but the inherent meaning, however, is rather, that of a ‘slanderous or malicious eye,’ that is, an eye that works harm by casting a jealous, slanderous, or malign extramissional ‘ray’ of some kind, as Elliott keenly notes. The tight association of jealousy and envy with the Evil Eye is aptly pointed out by Elliott, repeatedly, to be sure. It should be noted, however, that the adjec- tive βασκαντικός means ‘envious’, and never ‘evil-eyeing.’ The implica- tion may well be, though, that these words carry with them an ‘evil-casting’ intent, but why and how this developed is something worth further study10.

10 Words not addressed by Elliott include those in LSJSuppl, βασκαντήρ = βάσκανος, Schubart, Gr. Lit. Pap. 7.23 and Βασκανία, fascinationis dea, Call. Fr., as well as the same personification in the PGM (cf. also βασκοσύνη), as noted above. A study of the word- group, furthermore, from the body of inscriptional evidence (checking SEG), would bring the study of the terminology into sharper focus. On the adjective ἀβάσκαντος, LSJ, s.v., writes, ‘secure against enchantments, free from harm’; in an active sense, ‘acting as a charm or protection against witchcraft; II. Act., ‘not harming’ in PMag.Leid. W.18.7. Elliott begins his second volume with citations of this word from the papyri, but insists on translating it ‘unharmed by the Evil Eye.’ It is possible that the sense of the envious evil eye is contained in uses of this adjective, but the examples suggest it is broader than that associated merely with the Evil Eye. ‘BEWARE THE EVIL EYE’ 227

The crux interpretum in Ps.-Aristotle, Problemata 20 (‘Problems con- cerning shrubs and vegetables’), noted above, requires further comment, for here Elliott (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 20f.), following both LSJ (sc. ‘bewitch, by the evil eye, etc.’) and previous translators, elects to understand this as referring specifically to the Evil Eye. Here we read, ‘Why is rue said to be a remedy (φάρμακον) against the evil eye (βασκανία)? Is it because men think they are victims of the evil eye (βασκαινέσθαι) when they eat greed- ily or when they expect some enmity and are suspicious of the food set before them?11’ Elliott describes this as one of the earliest references to the Evil Eye and how it ‘was thought to cause illness of various kinds, including vomiting, upset stomach, and gas while dining’ (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 21), symptoms that Aristotle goes on to describe. But, despite the trans- lations of previous editors, this interpretation may be incorrect, something for which Elliott can hardly be faulted, since he is simply following prec- edence. However, given the prevalence with which sorceresses in the ancient world were famous as mendacious administers of poisons, would it not be more accurate to see this as simply a reference to ‘witchery’, that is, the explicit suspicion associated with food-tasting – and food-testing – that deals with bewitchment through clandestine poisonings? Aristotle’s reference to partaking nervously of the food and drink set before diners can only really have in mind meals that has been possibly contaminated with poisonous drugs, whether that poisoning was the result of envy, or some other spite. Thus, when Aristotle continues with the words, ‘For instance, when they take anything for themselves from the same course, they offer someone else a portion, adding the words, “So that you may not cast the evil eye upon me (ἵνα μὴ βασκανεῖς με)”,’ this translation should really be replaced with something like, ‘... So that you may not bewitch me” (sc., with poison). The presentation of a morsel to someone else looks suspiciously like the symbolic gesture of offering food to be tested against possibly witchery via poisoning, not the witchery of casting the Evil Eye, of which no mention is explicitly made. The passage’s clear references to eating greedily, expectations of enmity, and suspicions of the food – not to speak of the concomitant results of upset stomachs and vomiting – have nothing to do with the casting of the Evil Eye, but collectively deal with the administration of foods that may have been ‘bewitched’ by harmful drugs. It is not the casting of the Evil Eye that is causing the upset stom- achs and vomiting, but poisoned food and drink born of malice, enmity, and envy.

11 Tr. Ross, The Works of Aristotle, VII, lines 20ff. 228 R.D. KOTANSKY

What, then, is the possible root, or etymology of βασκαίνω and cog- nates? One apparently overlooked etymology for the word-group is that suggested by the Hesychian gloss: βάσκειν· λέγειν, κακολογεῖν, καὶ ἀνίστασθαι; in other words, the verb βάσκω means ‘to speak’; ‘to malign; revile, abuse’; or, ‘to get up (to speak).’ The verb *βάσκω clearly provides the exact sense we have with the root meaning of βασκαίνω, sc. ‘to malign, disparage; slander12.’ These definitions, found in most all the cog- nates, clearly have to do with speech-acts, originally; that is, the act of maligning and slandering all represent terms from the social world of malicious talk, slander, and gossip. The sense of witchery is perhaps sec- ondary, although closely related. What we have here, then, are terms that deal with the harming of another through the primary agency of speech. Speech is a powerful aspect of ancient magic and witchery, specifically the uttering of incantations, imprecations, and curses. The core meaning of the verb βασκαίνω, we suggest, is ‘to curse or “bad-mouth” (κακολο- γεῖν) someone’ with malicious intention and slanderous motivation. The verb κακολογέω is matched by the adjective κακολόγος, ‘evil-speaking, slanderous.’ And just as βασκαίνω is seemingly related to *βάσκω, as we suggest here, Elliott is keen to point out that the cognate noun βασκανία is understood to be akin to the Latin fascinum (‘bewitching’; ‘witchery’) and the verb fascino (‘to enchant, bewitch, charm, fascinate’ by the eyes or the tongue, so Lewis-Short, s.v.). Elliott rightly points out, for instance, the numerous places in Latin where ‘fascination’ is associated with the tongue: e.g., in Catullus, Carmina 7.12 (mala fascinare lingua) and Virgil, Eclog. 7.21, 25 (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 13f., 29, 81, etc.). It comes as no coin- cidence, then, that the Etymologicum Magnum at 190.28 glosses the Greek φασκαίνω with βασκαίνω. In Greek, the Indo-European equivalent of initial β- is sometimes difficult to explain (cf. I-E bha- and Elliott, vol. 2, p. 24f.)13. One may choose to compare, then, as well, the Hesychian gloss βασκευταί· φασκίδες, sc. φασκία (in Dioscurides, Cyranides, and Pol- lux) = Lat. fascia, ‘bandage, strip’ (cf. φασκίοω, ‘bind with bandages’); Lat. fascis, a ‘bundle’ (of wood, twigs, etc.), which the lexica compare with Greek φάκελος, ‘bundle’, ‘faggot’ – a word that is already found in Herodotus and Euripides. But the -σ- is absent here, so that the ety- mological origin of Hesychius’ *βάσκω (and seemingly *βασκευταί) must rest in the verb ‘to speak’, rather than that related to binding, as if

12 This is unrelated to the Homeric homonym βάσκω (> Attic βαίνω) that occurs in the imperative, βάσκε, ‘away!’ ‘Be off!’; cf. Palmer, The Greek Language, p. 263. 13 Cf., e.g., Szemerénzi, Introduction, p. 145. ‘BEWARE THE EVIL EYE’ 229 binding spells, sc. δεσμοί, were in mind14. With the same -β/-f inter- change, *βάσκω will compare rather with φάσκω, just as βασκαίνω is comparable to φασκαίνω. But the initial β- form derives from Homeric βάζω (‘speak, say’; which suggests for βάσκειν, βακ-σκειν); cf. βάξις (poetic), an ‘oracular utterance’, ‘inspired saying’; or even a ‘rumour,’ but in Empedocles (fr. 102, 11 Wright), used specifically of a healing utter- ance! Although Elliott does mention the possible etymological basis for the βασκαίνω group (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 24), with reference to the standard etymological works, and including many of the associations noted here, as well as other possible etymologies based largely on Rakoczy (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 24f.), nothing is said of Hesychius in this context. Furthermore, the important references to Hoffmann and Frisk (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 24, n. 87) are not included in the Bibliography, although the reference to Chantraine is. But nothing in the verb βασκαίνω, or cognates, is directly related to the instrument of the eye. Hence, the noun ὁ βάσκανος, ‘one who bewitches; sorcerer; slanderer,’ originally was one who curses, or casts a spell, on someone verbally, whether that act carried an intention of physical harm and bad fortune, or whether it aimed to bring on the more social kind of harm engendered by slander, the sort of malice that results in familial shame, personal loss, and property deprivation, not to speak of the inherent charges of criminality (social ostracization, banishment, imprisonment, or even execution) that comes as a consequence of such slander. Anthropo- logically and historically, oral magic always precedes magic that is written. The evolution of βασκαίνω, in order for us to understand the induction of the concept of the Evil Eye which strictly requires the added ὀφθαλμός, as in βάσκανος ὀφθαλμός, can be envisioned in the speech acts of witches and sorcerers. Maligning sorcerers and witches, it can be imagined, would utter certain spells and imprecations under their breath, so to speak, against their targeted enemies, all the while staring maliciously with their slanderous Evil Eye of envy; or, they could do the same, while mixing a harmful drug, or preparing a poisonous drink. The Evil Eye of witchery, in other words, was an act primarily promulgated by malicious and harm- inducing speech (κακολογία), with the harmful, malignant, slanderous, and jealous intentions being expelled from the eye, extramissionally, towards the intended victims. That is why the βασκ- word-group always

14 The noun κατάδεσμος refers to the ancient magical binding-spells, such as we find in the large body of curse-tablets that not only ‘bind’ the victims, figuratively, from acting, but also are themselves bound with nails, string, or otherwise ‘locked’ up in boxes; see, e.g., Gager, Curse Tablets. 230 R.D. KOTANSKY carries with it the inherent translational sense of ‘malign,’ ‘disparage,’ or ‘slander’ – all speech verbs. Later, the common unintentional casting of the Evil Eye by innocent bystanders against targets of their envy, would have arisen, in popular thinking, from jealous and envious hearts, rather than propagated by intentional speech-acts, alone. The bulk of volume 2 deals with amulets and other protective gestures (‘Apotropaic Strategies’) associated with the Evil Eye (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 158-266). Here the numerous pendants, hand-gesturing amulets, cres- cents, Evil Eye medallions, ΚΑΙ ΣΥ expressions, mosaics, and various figurines are treated in great detail, with numerous plates and drawings. The possibility that eyes painted on ancient ships, or that the use of the Medusa / Gorgon served as apotropaics against the Evil Eye, can hardly be proved on the basis of the available evidence, however. The mention of a gold lamella that this reviewer published in 2002, said by Elliott to be describing the hero Perseus holding the severed head of the Gorgo with the text, ‘Flee gout, Perseus is pursuing you,’ is incorrect (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 246). Elliott has wrongly attributed the sardonyx of Bonner’s that he has just mentioned in his previous sentence, to the published gold lamella. The lamella carries no image at all, but begins with the formula, ‘Turn aside, O Jesus, the Grim-Faced One (Gorgōpa), and on behalf of your maid- servant, her headache ...’; or, ‘Turn aside, O Jesus, for Gorgopa (who is) your maidservant, (her) headache ...’.15 But the article does discuss the use of the Gorgo in magic, with mention of Bonner’s sardonyx. Furthermore, the huge chapter 3, called rather broadly, “Salient Features of Evil Eye Practice and Belief,” covering 220 pages (p. 47-266) could have been broken up into smaller, separate chapters, it would seem. All said, volume 2 provides a wealth of material that is unmatched in scope. The occasional philological uncertainties are no distraction to the thorough coverage of the material and the hugely insightful engagement that the author provides with the numerous issues of the Evil Eye among the Greeks and Romans. The often repeated concept of the ‘presumption of limitation’ of available goods in the ancient world, leading to ‘the urge to compete rather than cooperate with one’s neighbors and to regard them as rivals’ (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 93), as a basis for the propagation, and fear, of the Evil Eye, is an enduring concept that cannot be emphasized enough throughout Elliott’s work. The notions of hybris, jealousy, and the envy of the Gods in the Greco-Roman world (Elliott, vol. 2, p. 82-118) stand

15 Kotansky, Gold Lamella, p. 37-46. A second mention of the amulet, later on, however, cites the material correctly (see below), as does the fuller description in Elliott, vol. 4, p. 152. ‘BEWARE THE EVIL EYE’ 231 as welcome backdrops to the detailed explication of the material that is to come in the subsequent volumes, especially vol. 316. Although not com- pletely exhaustive, his bibliography (plural, really) is the most compre- hensive one can find in any single source on the subject of the Greek and Roman treatment of the Evil Eye. Volume 3 addresses the Biblical material, both Old Testament (Torah) and New. Following an Introduction and discussion of the Hebrew (and Septuagintal) terminology, Elliott deals firstly with a number of key pas- sages where explicit mention is made of the Evil Eye: Deut. 15:9; 28:54, 56; Prov. 23:6; 28:22; Sirach 14:3-10; 18:18; 31:12f.; 1 Sam. 18:8f.; Wisdom of Solomon 4:12; Tobit 4:7, 16; 4 Macc. 1:26; 2:15f., as well as the Pseudepigrapha, Josephus, Philo, and the Dead Sea Scrolls. In the NT, the passages that Elliott finds explicit are as follows: Matt. 6:22f. / Luke 11:33-36 (= Q); Matt. 20:1-15; Mark 7:22; and Gal. 3:1. In addi- tion to these, Elliott also discusses a handful of plausible, minor, refer- ences that may presuppose the concept of the Evil Eye. These five major passages in the NT take up a total of approximately 170 pages – a lot of exegesis for so little material compared to what is available for study among our ancient sources. But what is done with these passages comes with a great deal of exegetical thoroughness, so there remain few stones unturned, in terms of explicating the meaning of the verses and the overall contexts in which they occur. The most famous of these passages, Gal. 3:1, reads as follows in the standard RSV: ‘O foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you, before whose eyes Jesus Christ was publically portrayed as crucified.’ Or, in the translation of Elliott: ‘O uncomprehending Galatians, who has injured you with an envious Evil Eye, you before whose very eyes Jesus Christ was publicly portrayed as crucified’ (Elliott, vol. 3, p. 218). This passage has been much discussed in the Commentaries and secondary literature, and Elliott engages energetically and thoroughly with the exege- sis of this important verse in its broader context. As far as the use of terminology goes, Elliott again overstates at times the use of the βασκαίνω-group by not allowing the usual sense of begrudge; malign. Thus, for instance, in respect of the LXX translation of Deut. 28:54, 56, he finds the phrase βασκανεῖ τῷ ὀφθαλμῷ, ‘somewhat redundant’ in translating it, ‘literally, Evil-Eye with his Eye’ (Elliott, vol. 3, p. 33). But the supposed redundancy is only created by the author’s own insistence

16 There are a few more typographical errors in this volume than in the rest (e.g., Hofmann, for Hoffmann, several times, and so on), but nothing serious or distracting. The Greek apotropein is written in error for apotrepein (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 4), but corrected later (Elliott, vol. 1, p. 30), yet again written wrongly in Elliott, vol. 2, p. 158. 232 R.D. KOTANSKY that the word group means to ‘Evil-Eye (someone).’ Rather, the correct rendition of the phrase, with no redundancy at all in the ancient languages, would probably have been ‘to malign / begrudge with his Eye.’ One minor criticism of volume 3 is the fact that Elliott’s focus, ulti- mately, is on the Bible itself (as his overall title makes clear); thus his scholarship, as comprehensive as it is at times, will suffer to some degree in being overly weighted towards the Biblical material in deference to much of the epigraphic and papyrological evidence, as if the biblical mate- rial, in itself, were more important in contributing to the understanding of the Evil Eye in antiquity than, say, the many other ancient texts that better explicate the phenomenon. But this is perhaps understandable in the con- text of a series of volumes aiming to provide a thorough backdrop to the Biblical material as its guiding mission. Nonetheless, Elliott devotes more than 50 pages to the famous Galatians reference to the Evil Eye, mentioned above (3:1, etc.: Elliott, vol. 3, p. 212-264), whereas the much more fascinating archaeological material is given comparatively less attention. It is also unclear, moreover, why on Galatians, the author has a 4-page conclusion (‘The Evil Eye in Galatia – Conclusion’, Elliott, vol. 3, p. 259-263), followed immediately by a second, 2-page conclusion (‘Galatians and the Evil Eye – Conclusion’, Elliott, vol. 3, p. 263-264). I think that much of this biblical material could have benefitted from addi- tional editing. That the New Testament describes the belief and function of the Evil Eye in a handful of important texts is not in question, but to devote as much material as Elliott does to the detailed exegesis of the relevant Biblical passages is, perhaps, to place undue emphasis on refer- ences that do little to explicate, or illuminate, the phenomenon of the Evil Eye in antiquity, in this reviewer’s opinion. It might have been better to have explained in greater detail some of the more illuminating ancient amuletic texts (e.g., the Aramaic ones that provide real, possible back- ground to the Biblical material, to begin with, even if they do post-date the Bible). But this is a criticism of focus, not of the scholarship itself. Biblical scholars understandably see the biblical text as special and divine to which the rest of any wide-ranging, global material can only serve as the requisite ‘background’ to Holy Writ. Volume 4 deals with the post-Biblical material on the Evil Eye, with attention paid to the Rabbinic literature and Church Fathers, as well as the archaeological record dealing with later amulets, including those associated with the Solomonic tradition, Aramaic incantation bowls and amulets, Evil Eye bronze pendants, and so on. The strength of this volume is Elliott’s treatment of the Patristic writers from the earlier Apocryphal works to Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nyssa, Gregory Nazianzus, Jerome, ‘BEWARE THE EVIL EYE’ 233

John Chrysostom, and others. The volume includes, as well, a useful treat- ment of the later Mandaic and Syriac magical literature on the Evil Eye17. Here, however, mention of the material from the Cairo Geniza would have rounded out the Jewish, and specifically Rabbinic, material18. The dis- cussion of the gold lamella (Elliott, vol. 4, p. 129, and p. 152, repeated), mentioned earlier, is now properly identified and described in reference to the invoking of Jesus to ward off the ‘Grim-Faced One’ (whereas previously it was confused with the Bonner gem). Additional references to several magical phylaktēria written on gold or silver foil (lamellae), the area of this reviewer’s specialty, that do name specific protection against the Evil Eye (Elliott, vol. 4, p. 129f.), are also welcome, although it might have been more helpful to examine these in greater detail, along with the Aramaic examples published by Naveh and Shaked (Elliott, vol. 4, p. 37f.), as mentioned. An important, overlooked example is the sil- ver lamella written in Greek from Xanthos (3rd-4th cent. CE) that invokes ‘Holy elements and charactēres’ to drive away demonic occurrences, including the Evil Eye (ὀφθαλμὸν βάσκαινον)19. Furthermore, a remark- able rose-orange agate picturing a standing figure of a nude male entwined by snakes, with the inscription Φθόνε ἀτύχι (‘Envy, bad luck to you!’), is clearly meant to represent a personification of the Evil Eye20. Although, overall, the author’s writing may sometimes prove a bit lengthy and even redundant at times (e.g., we find an entire paragraph to be composed of a single sentence at Elliott, vol. 1, p. 2!), it some- how manages not to distract too much from the thrust of his overall

17 In addition to the reference to the Mandaic spell published by Lady Drower (1937), as cited by Ford (1937), in Elliott, vol. 4, p. 110, additional Mandaean material could also have been referenced from the original publications. I provide but a single example: the short pamphlet published by Drower, A Mandaean Book, p. 6f. (‘Curative and Against the Evil Eye’), with a detailed spell that contains longer descriptions connecting the Evil Eye with various ophthalmic medical complaints. 18 See, e.g., Schäfer – Shaked, Magische Texte, T.-S. AS 143.372, line 19 (p. 208, 210); T.-S. AS 143.427, line 1a, 4 (p. 214f.); and subsequent volumes. 19 Jordan – Kotansky, Two Phylacteries, esp. 1, line 19. I would add here, as well, the papyrus text in Brashear, Wednesday’s Child, p. 40f., col. II, line 5: βασκανία, with note 78 (add. bibl., including, e.g., Russell [1982], Doberahn [1976]; Blum & Blum [1970]; Bonner [1932]; Tuchmann [1884-1903]; Maloney [1976]; Vööbus [1983]; Horak & Gastgeber [1995]; Dundes [1978, 1980]). Although Elliott cites Faraone elsewhere, Faraone, Talismans, p. 41f., 55f., contains important material on Peisistratus setting up an image of a locust on the Athenian acropolis, whose ‘bug-eyes’ may have been used to ward off the Evil Eye, as well as material on the kiln and the envy of rival potters. Note also, Stewart, Demons, p. 232-237, passim; Greenfield, Traditions of Belief, esp. p. 239. 20 See Mastrocinque, Les intailles magiques, p. 171, no. 467 (originally published by Bonner [1950]), who also refers to Chinelli, Gegen den Bösen Blick (non vidi, with addi- tional bibliography there cited). There is also a bird pecking at the figure’s eyes and a scorpion below his feet – images often associated with attacks against the Evil Eye. 234 R.D. KOTANSKY presentation of a body of material that is surely fascinating at every turn21. But it is somewhat disappointing, given the ease of printing foreign fonts nowadays, to see all of Elliott’s Greek (and Hebrew) text presented in italicized transliteration rather than in the original languages. Presenting paragraphs of texts in transliteration to audiences who might not read the original scripts to begin with does not facilitate their ability to under- stand the languages, anyway, so it is difficult at times to understand why publishers sometimes continue to do so in works that are as academic as this one. In conclusion, Elliott’s voluminous four-volume study has successfully managed to trace the various phases of a specialized, but long-enduring, religious and cultural phenomenon lasting from the period of ca. 3000 BCE 600 CE, by examining a wealth of material and literary evidence ‘from Mesopotamian incantations to Late Roman, Byzantine, early Christian, Jewish, and Islamic texts, material objects, and apotropaic words, designs and gestures’ (Elliott, vol. 4, p. 158). As the author further observes, ‘The development over the centuries of a constellation of interrelated notions forming an Evil Eye complex has lent this concept and its associated prac- tices plausibility and power’ (Elliott, vol. 4, p. 159). Among the many well-argued conclusions and insights that Elliott has tendered are the fol- lowing: 1) the instrument of the eye remains an active, as opposed to a passive, agent that can project a harmful energy injurious, or deadly, to whomever – or whatever – it strikes; 2) the Evil Eye is closely associated with, and even activated by, negative emotions, especially those engendered by feelings of envy, miserliness, jealousy, and greed; 3) an injurious ocular glance can prove either intentional or unintentional; 4) in addition to non- human targets, such as personal property, crops, and productive vineyards, an evil stare can particularly affect ‘children, birthing mothers, attractive youths, and those enjoying success in domestic life, the stadium, and the battlefield’ (Elliott, vol. 4, p. 159); 5) those who possess the Evil Eye, in addition to the stereotypical witches or mages, are represented by such mar- ginalized figures as widows, foreigners and strangers, and those who possess unusual ‘ocular features’, such as knit eyebrows, oddly colored eyes, or even double pupils; 6) there exists a wide variety of defenses against the Evil Eye,

21 Elliott, who seems fluent in German, may be forgiven this small inconcinnity. Other kinds of repetition, however, seem less forgivable, e.g., the kind of summary paragraph (vol. 1, p. 5) that is more-or-less repeated again later (vol. 1, p. 38). Similarly, for instance, on vol. 2, p. 123, Elliott describes Pliny (NH 7.16-18) and Ovid (Amores 1.8) on ethnic groups with double pupils, including the ‘the old woman Dipsas and her double-pupiled eyes’, whereas on the very next page (vol. 2, p. 124), Elliott again mentions Pliny (NH. 7.2.16-18, this time) and ‘an old woman named Dipsas... with double pupils...’. ‘BEWARE THE EVIL EYE’ 235 including spoken words, inarticulate gestures and rituals, and magical objects, such as inscribed amulets and other material, talismanic objects; and 7) the Evil Eye may be held responsible for a variety of medical issues and social woes, including but not limited to “sickness, misfortune, defeat in battle, property loss, and death” (Elliott, vol. 4, p. 159). All said, Elliott’s multifaceted opus represents a solid and thorough- going contribution to the history of a phenomenon widespread in ancient (and modern) times. With a masterful command of the primary and second- ary literature, Elliott has proven himself the world’s expert on the study of the Evil Eye in the ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern worlds. His four-volume work is to be highly recommended for all personal and institutional libraries, world-wide, and the author’s devotion and passion for his subject presents an end-product worthy of emulation in any field of academic enquiry. It is hoped that the author will continue to pursue his in-depth studies on the subject of the Evil Eye in antiquity, perhaps even regularly informing interested readers with the latest new findings, articles, and bibliographies in the form of updates, bibliographical surveys, and additional research papers.

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Borghouts, The Evil Eye of Apopis = J.F. Borghouts, The Evil Eye of Apopis, in Journal of Egyptian Archaeology, 59 (1973), p. 114-150. Brashear, Wednesday’s Child = W.M. Brashear, Wednesday’s Child is Full of Woe, Or: The Seven Deadly Sins and Some More Too! Another Apoteles- matikon: P. Med. inv. 71.58 (Nilus, 1), Wien, 1998. Chinelli, Gegen den Bösen Blick = R. Chinelli, Gegen den Bösen Blick ... Ein Goldamulett aus Wien 1, am Hof, in Fundort Wien. Berichte zur Archäo- logie, 13 (2010), p. 76-103. Cunliffe, Lexicon of the Homeric Dialect = R.J. Cunliffe, A Lexicon of the Homeric Dialect, Norman, OK, 1977 [1924]. Daniel – Maltomini, Supplementum Magicum = R.W. Daniel and F. Maltomini, Supplementum Magicum, Opladen, 1990. Drower, A Mandaean Book = E.S. Drower, A Mandaean Book of Black Magic, Sequim, WA, 2005. Edwards, Hieratic Papyri = I.E.S. Edwards, Hieratic Papyri in the British Museum, IVth Series: Oracular Amuletic Decrees of the Late New Kingdom, 2 vols., London, 1960. Elliott, Beware the Evil Eye = J.H. Elliott, Beware the Evil Eye. The Evil Eye in the Bible and the Ancient World, Vol. 1. Introduction, Mesopotamia, and Egypt, Eugene, OR, 2015; Vol. 2. Greece and Rome, Eugene, OR, 2016; Vol. 3. The Bible and Related Sources, Eugene, OR, 2016; Vol. 4. Post- biblical Israel and Early Christianity through Late Antiquity, Eugene, OR, 2017. 236 R.D. KOTANSKY

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Abstract — This article reviews John H. Elliott’s four-volume opus, Beware the Evil Eye (2015-17), bringing attention to the enormous value of the author’s detailed and far-reaching analysis, while at the same time critically evaluating the author’s contention that the Evil Eye embodies a ‘less magical’ concept in terms of its therapeutic approach. The article also reinforces the presence of Evil Eye beliefs in earlier Dynastic Egypt; challenges some of the supposedly early con- cepts of the Evil Eye in Greek literature; re-evaluates a critical reference in Ps.- Aristotle’s Problemata 20; and reviews the Greek ‘Bask-’ terminology for the notion of the Evil Eye / Slander.