Twenty Epithets for Dionysus
|December 31, 2012|
Drinking Bacchus, Guido Reni, 1623
Acratophorus, (“giver of unmixed wine”), at Phigaleia in Arcadia.
Acroreites at Sicyon.
Adoneus (“ruler”) in his Latinised, Bacchic cult.
Aegobolus (“goat killer”) at Potniae, in Boeotia.
Aesymnetes (“ruler” or “lord”) at Aroë and Patrae in Achaea.
Floor mosaic of the legend of Pyramus and Thisbe, from the House of Dionysus, 3rd century A.D.
Agrios (“wild”), in Macedonia.
Bromios (“the thunderer” or “he of the loud shout”).
Dendrites (“he of the trees”), as a fertility god.
Bacchus, Peter Paul Reubens, 1638-40
Dithyrambos, form of address used at his festivals, referring to his premature birth.
Eleutherios (“the liberator”), an epithet for both Dionysus and Eros.
Endendros (“he in the tree”).
Enorches (“with balls,” with reference to his fertility, or “in the testicles” in reference to Zeus’ sewing the baby Dionysus into his thigh, i.e., his testicles). Used in Samos and Lesbos.
Bacchus, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1595
Erikryptos (“completely hidden”), in Macedonia.
Eviüs, in Euripides’ play, The Bacchae.
Iacchus, possibly an epithet of Dionysus and associated with the Eleusinian Mysteries. In Eleusis, he is known as a son of Zeus and Demeter. The name “Iacchus” may come from the Ιακχος (Iakchos), a hymn sung in honor of Dionysus.
Liknites (“he of the winnowing fan”), as a fertility god connected with the mystery religions. A winnowing fan was used to separate the chaff from the grain.
Lyaeus (“he who unties”) or releases from care and anxiety.
Melanaigis (“of the black goatskin”) at the Apaturia festival.
Oeneus, as god of the wine press.
Pseudanor (“false man”), in Macedonia.
Inherent Vice’s Two Directions
The jokes certainly strike one as sophomoric and the latter one as clichéd, further below Pynchon’s intelligence than one would like to think he would stoop, at least in print. Discounting them and moving on, or throwing the book across the room as Parker half implies we should do, however, would be to lose sight of “that high magic to low puns”.
Auden, Larkin and Love
I was prompted to revisit these ancient questions anew by a long footnote about a single line in the new Complete Poems edition of Philip Larkin’s poetry. The footnote refers to “An Arundel Tomb” contains a provocative remark about that the poem’s celebrated, controversial, closing line, the one about the true nature of immortality: “What will survive of us is love.”
Plato, Our Comrade?
Not surprisingly, there have already been critics of Badiou’s translation. The first is that his translation breaks the formal rules of translation to such a degree that the original meaning of the text has lost its significance. But this critique is inadequate at face value because Badiou’s hyper-translation is forthright in its intention of taking Plato’s concepts and modifying them into his own lexicon.
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