A. Dissertation Final (Revised)

The Focus of Magic:
Was Ancient Greek Love Magic

Primarily Concerned with
Obtaining Control of the Partner?
Richard Manklow
1300342
Word Count: 10,997
Undergraduate Dissertation, Ancient & Medieval
History BA (Hons).
School of Classics at the University of Wales
Trinity Saint David
Preface
The subjects of love and magic are those which continually capture the imagination
and minds of researchers and writers today, indeed, it seems that behind every story,
both fiction and non-fiction, there are aspects of at least one or the other. This was no
different in the antique period, as proven by the great number of examples given in
classical literature. The feelings and emotions that drive people to relate to these
stories, are ones that were also felt on a personal level, and in the case of love, a very
powerful and conspicuous emotion. Magic, on the other hand, was a means to an end,
and when love and magic were infused to create the tradition of Ancient Greek erotic
magic, one might raise the question: To what was this end? This article seeks to
understand the purpose of Greek love magic as it existed up until the fourth century
A.D, and qualitatively assesses four examples of it, all of which display significantly
different aspects in either their material nature, the intentions of its creator, or the time
period in which they can be found. The hypothesis is that, much like in the stories in
which one finds both love and magic, the purpose of Ancient Greek love magic was to
enable one partner to gain control over the other via these means.
2|Ric hard Manklo w

Acknowledgement
This dissertation is the culmination of the three years that I have spent at
UWTSD Lampeter, and is the sum and testament of my education there. My research
and work would not have been possible without all of the staff at the university, but in
particular those from Medieval Studies, Student Support, and the School of Classics,
who have been my inspiration and my guides. Special thanks must go to Dr Jane
Draycott, who provided me with the impetus and ability to write on the subject of
ancient magic, and who has diligently supervised my work throughout. A great deal
of credit and thanks must also go to Sylvia Fairclough, someone who has pushed me
to do the best that I can in all of my work, and who has spent hours working with me
to consolidate and improve my ideas, and was laboured with the tedious task of
reviewing the end product. I would also like to thank Philip Curtis, for the good
advice and constant reminders to remain focused, as well as the plethora of
knowledge he has brought for various other subjects. My parents, both Valerie and
Stephen, Mum and Dad, have supported me all the way through from the very
beginning, and without them I would not be here. Their contribution to this work is
not direct, but yet innumerable, and I am very grateful for the opportunities they have
given me, and I will be eternally grateful. Last but not least, I would like to thank
Sophie Etheridge for her support and contribution to my work, for it has been much
easier to research and write this dissertation with someone else in the same boat, to
have an academic distraction which allowed me to develop my own ideas, and to have
someone to lean on when work has become overwhelming.
3|Ric hard Manklo w

Contents
Preface 2
Acknowledgement 3
Contents 4
Table of Images 5
Abbreviations 6
Chapter 1
‘Introduction’ 8
Chapter 2
‘Analysing the Late Antique Agōge Spell: PGM XIXa 1-54’ 11
Chapter 3
‘A Unique and Early Defixione from Attica’ 20
Chapter 4
‘The Cultural and Magical Connotations of Apple Throwing’ 26
Chapter 5
‘The Kestos Himas and Associated Discussions’ 34
Chapter 6
‘Conclusion’ 43
Bibliography 48
4|Ric hard Manklo w

Table of Images
Figure:
1: PGM XIXa.1-54. Translation: E. N. O’Neil & R.

Kotansky, from Betz, 1986: 256-257. 19
2: Qedeshet, Astarte, Anat. Illustration: S. Beaulieu, from

Cornelius, 2004: Plate 5.16. 41
3: Nude Woman with Body Jewellery. Photograph:

Christian Larrieu, from Bahrani, 2001: Plate 36. 41
4: Marble Cult Statue of Aphrodite Hypolympidia.

Photograph: Carole Raddato, 2012. 42
5|Ric hard Manklo w

Abbreviations
BNJ I. Worthington & F. Jacoby. 2007-2017. Brill’s New Jacoby. Leiden:

Brill.
DT A. Audollent. 1904. Defixionum Tabellae. Paris: University of Paris.
DTA R. Wünsch. 1897. Defixionum Tabellae Atticae, Inscriptiones Graecae.

3.3. Berlin.
FGrH F. Jacoby. 1923. Die Fragmente der Griechischen Historiker. Berlin:

Weidmann.
GMPT H. Betz. 1986. The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation. Chicago:

University of Chicago Press.
KAR E. Ebeling. 1915-1923. Keilscrifturkunden aus Assur Religiösen

Inhalts, 1 & 2. Leipzig.
LSJ H. Liddell, R. Scott, et al. 1940. A Greek-English Lexicon. Oxford: The

Clarendon Press.
PGM K. Presendanz & A. Henrichs. 1973-1974. Papyri Graecae Magicae:

Die Griechischen Zauberpapyri. Stuttgart: Teubner.
SEG A. Chaniotis, T. Corsten, N. Papzarkadas & R. Tybout. 1923-.

Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum. Leiden: Brill.
6|Ric hard Manklo w

‘The Greeks regarded love as an obsession, a
disease.’
Brusendorff & Henningsen, 1963: p.11
7|Ric hard Manklo w

1
Introduction
The purpose of this research is to delve into the debate around the purpose of
love magic in Ancient Greek language spells. Clearly, love magic is heavily
influenced by a person separate from the magic user, but whether or not the magic
itself is designed to control this person is not clear. In order to adequately make an
assessment of the wide variety of examples of erotic magic one must first define what
the criteria for love magic is, and secondly, be aware of the perceptions of sexuality
and gender held by Ancient Greek society. The fact that there is much debate about
how magic was used, and by whom, makes it obvious that these aspects are not
agreed upon, and reflects the post-modern nature of classicist opinion. For the
purposes of this research, love magic will be defined as spells that are inspired equally
by feelings of eroticism and affection towards the object of the spell. However, due to
disputes over what exactly constitutes erotic magic, or love magic, the examples
analysed will consist of four spells. Two of these spells cover eros, known in modern
terms as erotic and carnal love (PGM XIXa and mēla).1 Another, a separation tablet
concerned with the protection of a relationship, covers storge, a love deemed to be
fostered between those who either aim for a long term relationship or are permanently
connected, i.e. familial love (DTA 78).2 The fourth and final example covers philia,
affectionate love (the kestos himas).3 In reality, the spells may have been inspired by a
mixture of these loves, especially the examples of philia and storge, as the boundaries
1
LSJ, 1940: ἔρος; Moseley, 2016.
2
LSJ, 1940: στοργ-ή; Lee, 1973.
3
LSJ, 1940: φιλία; Moseley, 2016.
8|Ric hard Manklo w

Introduction
between them are uncertain. Love magic and erotic magic are used as inter-
changeable terms; this combining of terms means that magic designed for the
procurement of sexual intercourse alone also falls under the category of love magic,
as it is motivated by eros.
There are further and equally complex issues related to the study of this
subject, specifically those of gender in Ancient Greece, something which is discussed
in depth by Leslie Dean-Jones, and secondly, the ancient outlook on love, discussed
by Ove Brussendorff and Poul Henningsen.4 Relating to gender, Dean-Jones is able to
achieve an understanding of the ancient perception of women in a biological sense,
however it would be too simplistic to categorise women purely from a biological
standpoint, and this necessitates further discussion.5 Christopher Faraone, Matthew
Dickie, Esther Eidinow and David Frankfurter, whose work will be reviewed later,
have also attempted to identify and understand the role of women in the context of
magic and love. However, one must be mindful of the effect that the twentieth century
has had on our perception of gender and its related discussions, something which
colours the opinions of all modern day classicists. Therefore, the focus of this article
is not to deconstruct the roles of women within magic, as that subject merits a great
deal more discussion than will be had here, but will instead critique the opinions of
the four previously mentioned scholars, in order to attempt to clarify the intentions of
spells and thus their purpose. Brussendorff and Henningsen’s work on ancient love
and sexuality is able to give a window into the workings of relationships in the
ancient world, and their work on the ancient world reflects the diversity of emotions
which are still present in love today. Therefore, it is important to remember that while
one might categorise love, as does John Lee, and while one might attempt to view
4
Dean-Jones, 1991: 111-138; Brussendorff & Henningsen, 1963.
5
Dean-Jones, 1991: 111-138.
9|Ric hard Manklo w

Introduction
ancient relationships through a lens in order to distil them and understand them better,
it is as difficult to fully empathise with an ancient lovesickness, anxiety, envy or
jealousy as it is a modern one.6
In order to be more effective in this research, and to establish how closely
linked the various aspects of love magic are, it is important to take care in the choice
of case studies. Therefore, the original criterion for each object were laid out thus: to
identify four objects of comparative dissimilarity, in terms of location, medium of
magic and user. This will, in theory, help make clear whether the wide variety of love
magic holds common themes, and shed light on the purpose of the spells. It will also
allow any further research to build upon the findings of each individual piece, either
from the same perspective or another. The four cases studies, two defixiones (a
common type of spell, usually inscribed on lead tablets, designed to bind the subject
of the spell to the wishes of the spell caster), the tradition of apple throwing, and the
form and origin of the kestos himas (an embroidered leather strap, worn by the
goddesses Hera and Aphrodite) represent this methodology. The hypothesis is that
love magic is primarily concerned with gaining control of a partner, and that this takes
the form of direct control (i.e increasing influence over them) related to eros, and
indirect control (i.e decreasing outside influence on them) related to the other types of
love.
6
Lee, 1973.
10 | R i c h a r d M a n k l o w
2
Analysing the Late Antique Agōge Spell: PGM XIXa 1-54
In many of their forms, defixiones, or κατάδεσμος, provide a strong example of
magic that seeks to control the subject of the spell. It is in relation to love magic that
we find some of their most extreme uses, with vibrant descriptions of both physical
and mental torture being wished upon the specified object. This tradition of Greek
binding magic spans from Macedonia down to Egypt, and is used well into the third
century A.D., until Christianity superseded Graeco-Roman paganism.7 These agōgai
spells appear first in Pindar’s Pythian, in which Aphrodite instructs Jason on the use
of iunx birds (a wheel, pirouetting on string, with a bird at the centre) and other
magical ‘prayers and charms’.8 Agōgai spells are defined by John Winkler as ‘rituals
designed to bring a desired person to one’s house and bed.’9 However, this definition
is all too inclusive for such a distinct type of spell, since there are such a variety of
magics that fit Winkler’s definition, one of which (mēla) is discussed in chapter 4.
Faraone argues that the description of the use of the iunx spell taught to Jason, and
some very specific and extraordinary attributes from that description, form a common
theme amongst certain spells which fall into Winkler’s categorisation. Therefore,
agōge spells, as defined by Faraone, only make up a smaller subset of this group.10
Jason’s iunx spell is described as intending to cause some degree of forceful change in
the mind of Medea, bringing about a maelstrom of feelings so that she might feel
7
Ogden, 2002: 227-236; Gager, 1992: 79-115; Faraone 1999: 43.
8
Pind. Pyth. 4.213-219.
9
Winkler, 1991: 215-216.
10
Faraone, 1999: 57.
compelled to do his will, driven by pain and discomfort.11 Therefore, the iunx is an
example of an agōge spell, not just because Medea falls in love with Jason, but
because she does so due to the violence of the driving forces behind it.
The extent to which this sort of spell can be deemed a ‘love’ spell is disputed
by Winkler, who hypothesizes that the word love is simply not the correct term for
categorising agōge spells, at least by modern meaning.12 Yet, as John Gager points
out in his appraisal of this opinion, some of the spells considered as love magic have a
‘reverse spin’ played on them, with jealous and envious lovers attempting to bring the
partner round to some sort of ideal relationship, which fits within Gager’s personal
visions of love.13 This does not account for the ‘fantasies’ or adulterous relationships
that are found commonly amongst agōgai spells.14 It is a flaw in Gager’s
pronouncement of this misnomer that he makes no effort to remedy any potential
misunderstanding that might take place, for he neither provides an alternative
classification for these types of spells, nor expands the scope of his investigation to
properly include them, instead using them as if the question had not been first raised.
It is clear from Winkler’s conclusion that he distinguishes between the perception of
love in ancient Greece and love in the modern day, but overall his argument is overly
apologetic to extremes of Greek love magic.15 Instead, it would be more pertinent to
assess the aims of agōgai spells, and erotic defixiones as a whole, which Winkler and
Faraone wrongly attribute to an almost solely male sphere.16 Eidinow argues that, in
fact, Greek understanding of relationships and sexual activities were much more fluid
11
Pind. Pyth. 4.216-219; Sullivan, 1983: 19; Borgeaud, 1988: 85.
12
Winkler, 1991: 217.
13
Gager, 1992: 83; For an example: No.36, Gager, 1992: 112-113.
14
Gager, 1992: 83.
15
Winkler, 1991:217.
16
Eidinow, 2007: 208.
than we are like to interpret.17 This view must be combined with the assertion from
Gager himself that ‘the language [of agōgai spells] is deeply symbolic and will
simply not allow for an overly literal translation.’18 What is left is that symbols of
love, desire and control are being translated into violent formulaic language to
achieve control over relationships that were quite often defined based on the attitudes
of spell caster, rather than anything more concrete. These underlying themes of love,
desire and control manifest themselves in the Greek imagination as eros, which Plato
argues is ‘the desire to possess what is beautiful.’19 Therefore, despite the literal
interpretation of these spells in the modern day signifying that everything but love
went into these spells, perhaps an unconscious admittance in the scholarly
community, by labelling them under erotic magic, shows that they were a by-product
of what was considered irresistible love in ancient times, and therefore validates their
categorisation.
PGM XIXa 1-54 (Figure.1) is an example of a late antique Greek language
agōge spell, dating from the fourth century A.D., found in Hermopolis Magna, and it
exemplifies this category.20 PGM XIXa is a strong example of what a typical agōge
spell amounted to, and provides a sizeable amount of surviving script (30 x 22.8
cm).21 It has not been overly commented on, due to its position as one of the less
elaborate examples of defixiones, and comes with a multitude of points which can be
discussed, some of which are used in debates on other spells by academics such as
David Jordan and Florent Heintz.22 The identifiable and translatable parts of this
scroll, found implanted into a corpse’s mouth, make it explicitly clear that the
17
Eidinow, 2007: 211.
18
Gager, 1992: 81.
19
Plato, Symp, 212b.
20
Heintz, 1996: 297; Betz, 1986: PGM XIXa 1-54.
21
Heintz, 1996: 297.
22
Jordan, 1988: 232.
intentions motivating the use of magic, and the language of the formula itself indeed
classifies it as an agōge spell. The translation from Edward O’Neil and Roy Kotansky
in the GMPT is both acute in its analysis of the original text, and well commented on;
as such, their work is held in high esteem by Faraone.23 Evocative language
punctuates the translation, as Apalos (either the creator or motivator) intends for the
spell to:
attract, inflame, destroy, burn, cause her to swoon from love as she is being
burnt, inflamed. Sting the tortured soul, the heart, of Karosa, whom Thelo
bore, until she leaps forth …24
The subjugation of Karosa to the intended will of Apalos, by proxy of the
corpse’s spirit, manifests itself in vivid description throughout, and it is easy to
understand how the seemingly sadistic nature of the spell reflects in Winkler’s
hypothesis, that love is not present here. However, the theme of burning is concurrent
with the developing magical tradition of erotic spells in the antique period, with the
majority coming after Roman intervention into Greece rather than earlier, indicating
that the fusing of the two cultures led to a surge in material, and potentially increased
the rate of development in the complexity of spells.25 As Faraone correctly points out,
this specific example is of interest because of its descriptive nature, the extent of
control, the driving emotion behind its creation, and its place in the wider scope of
agōge spells generally.26 Its extreme description is the product of someone who is
very exacting and in some degree of desperation; Apalos holds this intention close to
his heart because of the sheer amount of effort it would have taken for this spell to be
created. The elaborate nature of the writing, as well as the copious amount of voces
mysticae (magical gibberish) would not be possible without some thought or learning,
23
Betz, 1986: 256-7; Faraone, 1999: 59.
24
Betz, 1986: 257.
25
Faraone, 1999: 58.
26
Faraone, 1999: 59.
and it is likely that the spell was prepared for his use by a professional. The
specification of ‘Apalos, whom Theonilla bore’ perhaps marks this as such. However,
this theme of naming develops over time, as notably in earlier examples such as DTA
78 (analysed in chapter 3), the tradition is absent. What is clear is that the situation in
which Apalos finds himself would have been considered reprehensible; Karosa,
clearly a married woman with family, had not voluntarily fallen into the temptations
of an adulterous relationship with Apalos, leaving him helpless by what may be
considered normal means. Greek love is often characterised by terrible obsessions,
extreme emotion, and can be deemed as the battle for possession over beauty in many
instances.27 Indeed, what greater parallel can be used than Homer’s Iliad, in which the
beautiful figure of Helen is the centre-point for a battle of control, and can be seen as
either being seduced or stolen away by her unlawful lover.28 PGM XIXa reflects
Apalos in this role, as Karosa’s Paris, trying to steal her away, and perhaps the
existence of such stories in Greek literature indicates that this was a common outcome
of love, a sign of the obsession associated with eros, and an example of the irresistible
love mentioned earlier.
The use of the spell itself relates to Apalos’s desperation and lack of ability to
control Karosa. Presumably unable to approach her directly, the spell indicates that
she must be brought to his house or bed, as specified in the translation and as defined
by the term agōge.29 However, the spell not only seeks to control Karosa, but also the
figure of the ‘guardian (μελητής) of strong Destiny’, and through it, the corpse the
scroll was placed in the mouth of. Μελητής has been translated as guardian by O’Neil,
but he points out that usually this would be written as έπιμελητής, signifying that this
27
Brusendorff & Henningsen, 1963: p.11; Plato, Symp, 212b.
28
Hom. Il.
29
Betz, 1986: 257.
could indeed be some sort of error, or a special derivative of the word when used in
this context.30
However, PGM XIXa cannot be said to be unique, because of many parallels
that can be drawn between it and other binding love spells. The phrasing of lines 50-
54 draws upon the tradition of a compelling maelstrom of feelings causing a leap or
whirling motion amongst those affected, as found in Euripides’ Bacchae, PGM
XXXVI.69-70 and Jason’s iunx spell.31 It also draws many elements from the
Egyptian magical tradition, and many of the references to deities such as Horus and
Mouisro are Egyptian in origin. Spells such as this were frequent, and potentially
dangerous enough to merit the need for protection charms, such as a silver magical
phylactery, originating from the fourth century A.D. Levant, also written in Greek.32
Much of the language is the same as PGM XIXa, to the extent that Heintz uses it as a
comparison of script, stating that the ‘chthonic and infernal nature is undeniable’ in
both.33 From this, one can infer that the extent to which someone wished to remain
free from magical subjugation is as extreme as the will to enforce it, and that the fear
of supernatural control was very real, even if the magical effects were not. Apalos’
use of a corpse is another parallel with other spells of a similar ilk. Jordan comments
that the use of a spirit which may not rest easy is seen as more dangerous than one
that has been able to lie in peace, and therefore more effective.34 This accounts for
the frequency of which curses are found in graves or near to tombs.
PGM XIXa is also a good example of palindromes, or wing-shaped amulets, in
which spells lose each end character until the last letter at the point of the triangle, a
30
Betz, 1986: 256.
31
Levaniouk, 2007: 184; Betz, 1986: 270; Eur. Bacch. 324, 446 & 1094-1095.
32
Heintz, 1996: 295-298.
33
Heintz, 1996: 297.
34
Jordan, 1988: 232.
tradition in Greek magic.35 It is referred to as a heart by Gager, who considers the
recipe preserved in PGM IV.296-466 (an exact copy of the palindrome from PGM
XIXa.1-54).36 Due to the nature of the spell following that shown in the recipe of
PGM IV, and the importance of binding the various parts of the partner to oneself via
the use of dolls in PGM IV, the other palindromes of PGM XIXa may indeed
represent other parts of the body. As PGM XIXa was found without a correlating clay
figure, which is specified in PGM IV, it is likely this is the case, especially
considering the amount of shaped voces mysticae present on the scroll, substituting
what a doll would otherwise specify.37
Due to PGM XIXa being the result of a developing and adaptable Greek
magical tradition, it is clear to say that, in general, typical agōgai spells confirm the
hypothesis that Greek love magic is designed primarily for gaining control over the
partner.38 Despite this assertion, it is worth investigating earlier forms of this type of
spell and in the future expanding this investigation by including case studies of single
sex interaction and non-single target spells, which Gager does to the extent of
providing a small selection of examples.39 Faraone, Dickie and Winkler analyse
examples such as these, but their analysis is compromised by their implied views on
the role of women which are, arguably, over-simplified.40 On the other hand, Eidinow
gives an astute critique of Faraone and Winkler, but in her attempt to reject their
argument goes too far the other way and fails to substantiate her assumptions.41
Frankfurter more successfully attempts to balance the discussion, and is successfully
35
Hernández, 2010: 221.
36
Gager, 1992: 95.
37
See the Louvre Doll: Suppl. Mag. 47.
38
Gager, 1992: 80; Winkler 1991: 94.
39
Gager, 1992: 80-106.
40
Eidinow, 2007: 209-211; Frankfurter, 2014: 1-20; Dickie 2000: 565; Faraone, 1999: 140, 147-8;
Winkler 1991.
41
Eidinow, 2007: 211.
able to elaborate on the role and social context of women within spells, something
which could provide a basis for ‘subtler, more empathetic understanding of magic in
everyday life.’42 This is discussed further in chapter 3.
42
Frankfurter, 2014: 1-20.
Figure 1: PGM XIXa.1-54. Translation: E. N. O’Neil & R. Kotansky, from Betz, 1986: 256-257.
3
A Unique and Early Defixione from Attica
In order to attempt to create some sensible chronological definition, it is also
important to look at the earliest examples of love magic that are available. PGM
XIXa, and PGM IV represent the cumulative process of what was a millennia of
Greek magical development. However, while they provide many different and
elaborate aspects to discuss, it can be argued that they are no longer entirely Greek,
and that our understanding of Greek magic is coloured by what it came to represent
from the Hellenistic period onwards, rather than what existed before. DTA 78 is an
example of a separation curse, which makes up one of the two sub-categories of love
magic according to Eidinow (the other category being attraction, which agōgai spells
fall into).43 It is a fourth century B.C. primitive curse tablet found in Attica, and it
gives a good basis from which one can expand into seeing in what ways early Greek
erotic separation magic attempted to control the partner of the spell’s creator.44 DTA
78 an important example of storge, the type of love which is based around long-term
and committed relationships, and although there are multiple examples of this type of
spell published, DTA 78 is special for a number of reasons. Faraone heralds it as a
unique example in that it is both a form of the ‘earliest technique’ of spell invocation
and rare because of the simplicity of the spell’s construction.45 Despite this
uniqueness, its material existence and place of discovery are very much in line with
other finds of early defixiones. Inscribed on a folded lead tablet found in Attica, one
43
Eidinow, 2007: 207.
44
Eidinow, 2007: 219-221; Faraone, 1991: 14.
45
Faraone, 1991: 14.
of the three places where curse tablets are most often found dating from the classical
period, it makes up part of a great collection of this type of spell, which begins to
spread further around the Mediterranean by the mid-Hellenistic period (second
century B.C onwards).46
Ἀρι[σ]τοκύδη καὶ τὰς φανο(υ)μένας αὐτῶι γυναῖκας

μήποτ’ αὐτὸν γῆμαι ἄλλην γυναῖ<κα> μηδὲ παῖδα.
[I bind?] Aristocydes and the women who will be seen about with him.
Let him not marry another matron or maiden.47
This early form of spell invocation, which involves simply naming the subject
of the spell, compared to the naming of the maternal heritage found in spells such as
PGM XIXa, indicates a creator-centric view of magic. Aristocydes, the partner of the
fiancé or wife who presumably created the spell, is the only reference point that is
given in DTA 78, and is someone who clearly cannot be mistaken or replaced for
another Aristocydes. This observation, although seemingly innocuous, is important to
the understanding of spell motivation and development that can be found in PGM
XIXa. In comparing the two, one can see the large distance in magical tradition and
lore understood by the respective magical users. DTA 78’s lack of complex formulae,
and its creators’ faith in the supernatural to enact her will on the correct Aristocydes,
is a prime example of a colloquial early defixione; created by a woman with a simple
request, who had no pretence of being an expert, and therefore no knowledge or need
to adhere to the more complex spell structures found in examples such as The Getty
Hexameters.48 It is possible that, at this time, unlike in the later centuries, there was
46
Faraone, 1991: 3.
47
Wilhelm, 1904: 113; Eidinow, 2007: 368.
48
Kotansky, 2016. The Getty Hexameters are also tablets of folded lead, dating from late 5 th Century
BC Selinous, a Greek polis in Sicily. They are complex in their formula, referring to mythological
beliefs and are comprised of significant verses rather than a simple wish. However, it does share the
simple naming technique used in DTA 78 and other early magical spells when referring to the subject
of the spell.
no shared tradition of magic, and that magical practitioners were few and far between
resulting in spells such as this representing the earliest forms of binding spells.
The translation of this separation spell has been disputed, especially the word
γῆμαι, which most often means ‘to marry’.49 Faraone initially translates it as
specifically ‘Let him not marry another matron or maiden.’50 However, this
translation is disputed by Emmanuel Voutiras, who instead argues that the magic user
is a ‘courtesan’, and that γῆμαι translates as ‘fornicate’ and that τὰς φανομένας αὐτῶι
γυναῖκας is in fact ‘women that will show themselves to him’.51 Faraone concedes the
possibility of Voutirias’ judgement in his book Ancient Greek Love Magic, however
he still translates γῆμαι as marry, citing the potential for a slang definition of sexual
intercourse.52 Eidinow comes to a similar conclusion as Voutirias, and points to the
possibility of the spell being created by a hetairai (a prostitute who would serve only
a small selection of clients, and entertain them mentally and physically, more akin to
an escort), in this she rejects the possibility of the creator being a ‘respectable’
woman.53 Considering the simple and colloquial format of the spell, it is likely that
γῆμαι would resemble the meaning given by Voutirias and Eidinow. However, to
assume that the creator of the spell is a form of prostitute or hetairai is a step too far
into the realm of speculation to be able to confirm, but the conclusion is perhaps
justified by the contemporary belief and evidence of prostitutes most commonly using
aggressive erotic magic, a factor in the interpretation of mēla.
Eidinow speaks of DTA 78 within the context of the use of aggressive erotic
magic by women, saying that her selection of spells (DTA 5, 68, 78, 85, 86, and a
49
LSJ, 1940: γῆμαι.
50
Faraone, 1991: 14.
51
SEG. 48-361.
52
Faraone, 1999: 13.
53
Eidinow, 2007: 215-216; Kurke, 1997: 107-108.
tablet from Pella), although sometimes unclear in their origin, are clear evidence of
‘women seeking to control the behaviour of men.’54 The nature of binding as an
action, as shown in the second chapter, is bent towards the manipulation of a person
without their consent. However, Eidinow confines her ideas of aggressive erotic
magic in the same way as Faraone and Dickie, whom she previously criticises for
basing their ideas on the creation or deconstruction of the idea of women as sexually
passive in ancient times.55 She concludes that it would be appropriate to consider
women using erotic magic primarily as a way to directly control those who might
pose a ‘risk’ to a woman’s sexual ambitions, rather than to enact their will on the
focus of those ambitions directly.56 This is a slight misrepresentation of the capacity
of women and erotic magic, and although there is much less evidence for the direct
use of aggressive erotic magic from female sources, it does exist to the detriment of
Eidinow’s conclusion. Frankfurter discusses these issues in his article The Social
Context of Women’s Erotic Magic in Antiquity, once again referring to the effective
but all too simple arguments of Faraone and Dickie, and refers to a fifth century
agōge spell created by one Septimia.57 In the context of control over the subject of a
spell in Ancient Greek erotic magic, the evidence of women using these sorts of
offensive spells is unclear. John Chrysostom, an early Christian bishop of Antioch,
speaks of ‘many women’ utilising all sorts of spells of an aggressive nature, and the
variety of spells published prove this to be true (even if his record was created as
exaggerated Christian rhetoric).58 This is shown in an earlier example analysed by
Daniel Ogden, who argues specifically that Faraone’s conclusion is incorrect.59 It
54
Eidinow, 2007: 221.
55
Eidinow, 2007: 209, 221.
56
Eidinow, 2007: 221.
57
Frankfurter, 2014: 3; DT. 270.
58
John Chrysostom, Hom. Rom. 24.
59
Theoc. Idylls. 2; Ogden, 2002: 108-111.
would therefore be unwise to assume that Greek speaking women were not taking part
in the practice of direct and aggressive erotic magic, and equally unwise to say that
they engaged with it as frequently as men, or to attribute it solely to women of the
sexual profession. This opinion is backed up by the research of Eleni Pachoumi, who
finds the evidence flexible in terms of ascribing magical formulae to gender (that is,
in the majority of cases of Greek and Demotic erotic spells, they could be practised by
both men and women, rather than one or the other) and literary traditions, which place
men and women equally in positions of magical power.60
With the extent of the engagement of Greek women in aggressive erotic magic
therefore specifically unclear but generally evident, DTA 78 and the other examples
given by Eidinow show that women were involved in the controlling aspect of erotic
magic. This could take place in terms of controlling the partner directly, or through
controlling influences which may affect the partner, and thus hold a great deal more
influence over him or her. Despite the less vivid and violent language used in this
simple tablet, compared to PGM XIXa, it is clear that the freedom of the subject is
equally impaired. Although less demanding than the more complex agōge spell, the
effects of DTA 78 are much less definite and cover a wider area, and thus over a long
period of time it would aim to constrain the partner more and more. The creator of the
binding curse does not seek short term satisfaction and emotional dominance, unlike
PGM XIXa, but instead long term influence and physical control.
Therefore, DTA 78 is an example of both a colloquial and early form of erotic
binding spell being used to enact control over the partner. Its intention to prevent and
separate relationships with the man, Aristocydes, (other than the one the creator
shares with him) places the creator of the spell in an emotionally influential and stable
60
Pachoumi, 2013: 314-315.
position. Its ill-defined make up, which is easily interpreted in different ways,
indicates the inexperience of the spell caster, and perhaps the lack of a well-known
magical tradition. There are a great number of similarities between DTA 78 and PGM
XIXa in their will to control and the binding aspect of them both, but they also
represent the two sides of erotic binding, attraction and separation. Together, they also
form the primitive and sophisticated ends of the tradition of Greek erotic defixiones in
antiquity, and one may begin to discern a cogent tradition of spells that seek great
amounts of control over a potential partner. Although one may not come to any
concrete conclusions, as the evidence is too sparse, it would be intriguing to
investigate whether magic involving perishable components, and pseudo-social and
religious customs (as in the case of mēla, discussed in chapter 4) was more common
in the early antique and archaic period compared to the dense, sophisticated and
distinct magical traditions that were apparent in the later period, as shown by agōgai
spells including PGM XIXa, and how this affects the tradition of defixiones.
Furthermore, in the period between the creation of DTA 78 and PGM XIXa it
becomes transparent whether the general consensus of women being more clearly
associated with philia magic is correct or not. The discussion in chapter 5 on the
kestos himas will seek to address this to the extent of control, but it is only through
detailed analysis of all examples of erotic magic available that a reasonably
conclusive assumption can be made.
4
The Cultural and Magical Connotations of Apple Throwing
The evidence for the use of love magic is present not only in the physical
evidence that has been found, such as the lamellae (metal tablets or plaques) and
defixiones discussed, but also present in literature and cultural expression.61 Indeed,
the first example of love magic given originates from Pindar’s Pythian, and the last
case study will be discussing the kestos himas, an example from the Iliad. It is
important to note that while these spells did have the potential to exist through
physical manifestation, the evidence for them might often not survive down to the
modern day. This is either due to the perishable nature of the ingredients involved
with a spell, or also that spells may not have always required physical or tangible
components. The word mēlon or μηλον, ‘apple’, refers to many different types of fruit
such as quinces, pomegranates and peaches, and their use in magic is a good example
of a perishable component, for which one must look to literature, art or sculpture for
evidence.62 Mēla have often been attributed to Persephone and Hera, which Faraone
argues is based on their connection to marriage.63 However, this association is also
punctuated by literary traditions, and from examples to be addressed later, it is clear
that Aphrodite is also heavily connected to mēla, which Antony Littlewood points out.
These three goddesses share a great deal in terms of their patronage, something which
their epithets reflect, and it is clear that where these overlaps take place there are also
references to the purpose of mēla.

61
Bissera, 2010: 33.
62
Faraone, 1999: 69; Littlewood, 1968: 147.
63
Faraone, 1999: 69.
Persephone, wife of Hades and daughter of Demeter, was worshipped because
of her mythical parallel in relation to the roles of women in Greek society.64 In
particular, she was valued as the ‘protector of marriage and of the female domain’,
hence her epithet ἀνακᾰλυπτήρια.65 Aνακᾰλυπτήρια, or the festival of unveiling, is a
ritual part of the marriage ceremony where the bride reveals herself and has gifts
bestowed upon her by her husband to be.66 Alongside this, as can be inferred from the
unveiling process, she is also much associated with youth and virginity, and was
known as Κόρη (Kore), most often when spoken of in relation to Demeter.67 In fact,
the name Περσεφόνη (Persephone), is used when stressing her connection to Hades,
and so she carries a dualistic and contradictory nature, which correlates with her
myth, and also with the problems which girls faced going into marriage.68
Pomegranate seeds, part of mēla, are the food which Persephone eats in order for
Hades to keep her for half of the year in the underworld, thus consolidating her
marriage.69
Hera, wife of Zeus and Queen of the Gods, is also strongly connected with
women and marriage.70 Graf Fritz describes Hera as being a goddess ‘whose mythical
biography reflects the regular life of women’ and thus her epithets are: παῖς (maiden),
νιμφηυομν (bride), τέλειος (wife), κουροτρόφος (child nourishing) and χήρα
(widow).71 Much like Persephone, it is in relation to marriage that Hera is primarily
associated with mēla, in fact, the famous mythical golden apples originate from a tree
in Hera’s orchard in the Garden of the Hesperides, and was planted from a wedding
64
Inwood, 2016.
65
Inwood, 2016.
66
LSJ, 1940: ἀνακαλυπτήρια.
67
Inwood, 2016.
68
Inwood, 2016.
69
Inwood, 2016.
70
Fritz, 2016.
71
Fritz, 2016.
present gifted to Hera by Gaia.72 It is one of these apples that was used as a prize in
the judgement of Paris, in which Hera took part, alongside Athena and Aphrodite.73
Aphrodite, the chosen of Paris, is said ‘to represent all of the ambiguity of
femininity’.74 Pausanias refers to maidens providing sacrifices to Aphrodite for a
favourable sexual experience, and Pirenne-Delforge argues that while this is once
again relating to marriage, it sets Aphrodite apart from Hera, Demeter and
Persephone, presumably because it focuses on the favourable sexual and reproductive
aspects of union, rather than the dutiful.75 She is given the epithets of ἐν κήποις (in the
gardens), hεταρα (courtesan), πρν (prostitute), ουρανια (divine [love]), μιγωντις
(marital union) and πραξις (sexual action).76
Persephone, Aphrodite and Hera’s primary similarity is their connection
through marriage and bounty. As previously mentioned, Hera and Persephone
represent the dutiful aspects of union, and the way mēla are connected via marriage
gives insight into the spell’s use. Aphrodite, of course, is the other side of the coin,
and it is perhaps her involvement in the story of Atalanta and Hippomenes which is
the most overt of all mythological references to mēla.77 The story is retold by Ovid
through Aphodite’s (Venus’s) eyes, where Atalanta challenges her suitors to a race,
the prize being her hand in marriage and the price of losing, their life.78 Hippomenes,
despite at first condemning the contest, decides that Atalanta is to be his, following
the pattern of great beauty inciting a wish for control, as in the example of Paris and
72
Pherec. FGrH/BNJ. 3. F16.
73
Apollod. Bibl. E. 3. 2.
74
Prienne-Delforge & Ley, 2016.
75
Pirenne-Delforge & Ley, 2016; Paus. 2.32.7; 2.34.12; 3.13.9.
76
Pirenne-Delforge & Ley, 2016; Theoi Project, 2015.
77
Hes. Catalogues of Women Fragments 14c. II.30-36.
78
Ovid. Met. X. 560-570.
Helen.79 Hippomenes invokes the assistance of Aphrodite to ‘encourage the fire of
love that you lit’, and so Aphrodite provides three golden apples (mēla) for
Hippomenes to use.80 Hippomenes’ throws the apples for Atalanta to retrieve, thus
delaying her long enough for him to win the race and her hand, and this is the basis of
the tradition that will be discussed.81
The use of mēla and the throwing of apples has been confirmed by many
examples, as can be found in Littlewood’s expansion of Benjamin Foster’s Notes on
the Symbolism of the Apple in Classical Antiquity.82 Littlewood describes the use of
apples in relation to the myth of Hippomenes and Atalanta as having potentially built
up from an earlier myth relating to marriage outside of the social group, or female
independence.83 Alternatively, Littlewood states that it may also have originated as
part of a tradition which involved the throwing of fruit at a newly married couple,
much like the throwing of confetti today.84 This second theory is simple, and backed
up by more than mere gesticulations in the direction of what the myth might have
stemmed from, as there is a clear reason for the societal function of fruit throwing.
Using the example of the quinces thrown at the marriage chariot of Helen and
Menelaus by Stesichorus, Littlewood theorises that mēla were used to encourage
fertility through passive magical means.85 The throwing of the apples as part of the
marriage ceremony developed into the well-known and seemingly widespread
practice of using apples as part of the courting process, and Littlewood’s explanation
for this revolves around ‘religious evolution’. 86 Although he does not divulge his
79
Ovid. Met. X. 565-572.
80
Ovid. Met. X. 638-650.
81
Ovid. Met. X. 650-660.
82
Littlewood, 1968: 147; Foster, 1899.
83
Littlewood, 1968: 152.
84
Littlewood, 1968: 152 & 155.
85
Littlewood, 1968: 155; Stesich. Frag. 10 (page) apud Athen. 3.21D.
86
reasons for this assertion, it is clear that the links between the three goddesses, the
mythical use of apples in marriage ceremonies (relating to Persephone and Hera), and
their use in the procurement of beauty, explain this.87 By the time of Aristophanes, the
practice of apple throwing had manifested itself as a common and significant
occurrence used to inflame attraction and arousal in a subject. In his play, Clouds,
Aristophanes uses Just Discourse to describe the metaphoric use of an apple by the
courtesans of the era.88 Faraone ascribes this to the fear that prostitutes would often
use erotic magic to entrap potential mates, and therefore income, supported by the
specific reference to their use of erotic magic by Xenophon in his Memorabilia.89
This reaction of fear is evidence that an extent of control was exerted over the
receiver of the apple, and especially framed by the discussion in Clouds. There is
much left to be desired in the extent to which this can be fully asserted, due to a
scarcity of evidence which would confirm that this was as widespread as these
classical sources indicate.
The examples from Plato in the Greek Anthology, further develop the idea that
the practice of apple throwing had become part of courtship, and provides a counter-
balance to the examples given of prostitutes by providing an obviously male
perspective.90
I throw the apple at thee, and thou, if thou lovest me from thy heart,
take it and give me of thy maidenhead; but if they thoughts be what I pray
they are not, take it still and reflect how short-lived is beauty.91
Clearly, the gift of the apple is a show of intention by the masculine
element, and the magical connotations are nearly negligible, utilised as a social
87
88
Ar. Clouds. 997.
89
Faraone, 1999: 69; Xen. Mem. 3.11.16.
90
Pl. Greek Anthology. 5.79-80; Diog. Laert. Lives. 3.32; Rynearson, 2009: 342.
91
Pl. Greek Anthology. 5.79.
device rather than a supernatural one. It is worth noting that in both 5.79 and 5.80
there is a reference to the fleetingness of life and beauty, and the implications this
has when the apple is seen in connection to the goddesses Aphrodite and
Persephone, who represent the epitome of youth and good-looks, and also how the
apples are generally used in the procurement of beauty, as previously stated.92
However, arguably, this example is not magically motivated; the apple is simply
offered to the female subject free for her to reject or take, thus representing the
transference of control from the giver to the receiver. Indeed, the giving of a gift in
a simply tangible form is not an example of asserting dominance, especially as the
apple is not forced upon either the anonymous woman, or Xanthippe (a named
woman in the second example).93 As such, in this instance it has become a social
device enabling a partner to acceptably ask for sex, yet does carry the undertones
of unwanted consequences should it be rejected.
The later example of a recipe for enchanting an apple is the most explicit
evidence available to verify the use of magic in relation to throwing mēla.94 Written
as part of a larger document containing other Greek magical recipes, and dating from
the reign of Emperor Augustus, SM 72 invokes the power of Aphrodite to enchant an
apple.95 The throwing of the apple is designed to inspire a mad love, drawing on
language similar to, but not exactly the same as that found in PGM XIXa.96 However,
crucially in terms of the extent to which control over the subject is exerted, the subject
92
Pl. Greek Anthology. 5.79-80.
93
94
Faraone, 1999: 73.
95
SM 72. 1.5-14.
96
SM 72. 1.5-14.
is relied upon to comply with either of two conditions: that of receiving the apple and
eating it, or setting it ‘in her bosom.’97
Faraone uses this to argue that the female ‘victim[(s)]’ are aware of the apple’s
significance, but that the process of receiving it indicates a willingness which is not
apparent in agōge spells generally.98 Consequently, mēla should not be categorised as
an agōge spell, as they lack the violence and the exertion of direct control necessary
to be classed as one. However, they are still motivated and caused by the feeling of
eros. Faraone’s argument is inspired by his knowledge of the origin of the use of
apples and other fruit in magic, but his language, in terms of the level of control
insinuated by the spell, is too strong, and finds less basis in the extant examples
produced in the contemporary period.99 It is likely that the typical use of mēla in the
Greek tradition takes more inspiration from the tradition of its use in marriage, with
the caveat that it should inspire sexual attraction, and therefore may also be applied to
situations outside of marriage, hence the examples from Plato, Aristophanes, and SM
72. However, contrary to the use of agōgai spells, mēla place much less emphasis on
the control and compelling of the ‘victim’, and in a tangible sense place the control in
the hands of the receiver of the apple. The spell cannot act its work on the receiver
unless it is wilfully taken, and in the case of marriage which might have been forced,
it is a ceremonial gift rather than another forced action. Due to the use of mēla being
reasonably well documented, it would not be unusual for the subject to be aware of
the significance of the apple in the first place, and although the apple might seek to
passively foster a state of artificial arousal, the subject would full well know the
97
SM 72. 1.5-14.
98
Faraone, 1999: 77-78.
99
Drawing from examples and comparisons of Aphrodite and Ishtar, as well as two Assyrian spells
(KAR 61.8-10; 69.4-5), Faraone attempts to marry the two traditions together. However, although he
does discuss the use of mēla in marriage, and reaches the right conclusions, his emphasis is coloured by
this attempt and one should take care when creating a simple and coherent overlap between agōge
spells and mēla in Greek magic, as touched on in Chapter 5.
purpose of the spell. Thus the taking of mēla represents in some ways the signing of a
contract and, as mentioned earlier, a socially acceptable device to use in the
procurement of a booty call, useful in terms of marriage, sexual relationships outside
of wedlock, and prostitution.
5
The Kestos Himas and Associated Discussions
An as yet unexplored factor in Ancient Greek love magic is philia inspired
magic. This type of love magic revolves less around the emotions of desire and lust,
but instead is focused on affection and appreciation.100 This does not mean that desire
and lust are absent from the aims and motivations of those who dabble in the
supernatural fostering of philia, sometimes it can be quite the opposite, or that the
effect of causing appreciation and affection does not intentionally or inadvertently
lead to erotic feelings. The kestos himas (κεστὸν ἱμάντα) is one such example, a spell
with evidence drawn primarily from its use in Assyrian and Persian magic, and its
presence and use in the Iliad.101 The nature of the kestos himas and similar spells are
disputed both in their intentions and their physical manifestation, with opinions that
have changed over time.102 For the Greek magical tradition, it is the passage in the
Iliad which must be analysed thoroughly and then compared to any physical evidence
that might be found both within and outside of Greek culture. It is, of course, useful to
analyse the magical traditions of the Levant and Mesopotamia, whose cultural
influence indirectly spread to Greece, but one should be wary of over-interpreting
how far this influence runs, so as not to unintentionally disinherit other Ancient Greek
cultural influences, hence the need to refer back to Homer’s example so often.
100
Faraone, 1999: 96.
101
Homer. Il. 14.214-217.
102
Faraone, 1999: 97-98.
The garment, if it can be described as such, is clearly stitched, as per the
κεστὸν description which the Liddell-Scott-Jones (LSJ) and Autenrieth lexicons
generally agree translates as ‘embroidered, stitched or of needle work.’103 Iμάντα, on
the other hand, is much more debated and vague in its uses. Described as a leather
strap or thong by LSJ, there are a variety of examples where the word has come to
represent a specific use for these straps of leather, such as reins or a boxing glove.104
LSJ also makes the bold move to assign ἱμάντα as a ‘girdle’ something which has
come to define the item in popular culture, but the extent to which it can fully be
deduced means that it is no more likely to be a girdle than a saltire brassiere as
Bonner argues, or a magical decorative veil, similar to that worn by Leukothes in
Odyssey, as Onians argues.105 Neither is the vagueness of the description of the
embroidery conducive to a clear idea of what the κεστὸν ἱμάντα was. Homer describes
it as containing enchantments relating to philia (φιλότης), longing (ἵμερος), and
allurement (παράφασις), yet these enchantments are not given any form other than
that they are imbued in the κεστὸν ἱμάντα.106 It is in this vagueness that one must
decide whether to take inspiration from the Assyrian tradition, which Miroslav
Marcovich argues is the birthplace of Ishtar, the predecessor of Aphrodite, and who
came to Greek religion via the Phoenician colonisation of Cyprus c.1200 B.C; or
103
LSJ, 1940: κεστὸν; Autenrieth, 1891: κεστὸν.
104
LSJ, 1940: ἱμάντα; Hom. Il. 23.324; Pl. Prt. 342c.
105
Faraone, 1999: 98; LSJ, 1940: ἱμάντα; Bonner, 1949: 1-6; Hom. Od. 5.333-335; Onians, 1951: 368-
369; Brenk, 1998: 209-212.
106
Φιλότης is in fact translated as love by Faraone, 1999: 97, but this is too simplified as the nuance of
the word is lost. Φιλότης is related to affection and friendship, and a great but not inherently sexual
love of others, and therefore while philia is not a like for like substitute, its meaning here is more akin
to the Greek than simply love or affection. ἵμερος is also mistranslated by Faraone, who again applies a
more sexual connotation to the phrase than is necessary, as it comes to represent a variety of emotions
in the majority of its examples which result in a yearning for someone. LSJ, 1940: φιλότης, ἵμερος,
παράφασις; Autenrieth, 1891: φιλότης, ἵμερος; Slater, 1969: ἵμερος; Hom. Il. 14.214-217.
whether this κεστὸν ἱμάντα, and perhaps Aphrodite as a Greek goddess, is more of an
original belief than Marcovich gives credit for.107
Figure 2 is an illustration of an amalgamation of the goddesses Qedeshet,
Astarte and Anat, of which Astarte is Ishtar. The saltire cross is very obvious here,
along with a third girdle strap. Figure 3 is thought to be a depiction of Ishtar, but this
has not been confirmed, and one can see the style of cross-chest jewellery, but this
time without the third girdle strap. These two pieces of evidence, both from c.1300-
1200 BC, the latter dating from around the time of the Phoenician colonisation of
Cyprus, are obviously sources which could influence the thinking of those such as
Bonner and Marcovich.108 There is a general consensus that Ishtar is often shown, or
always shown, with these crossed leather straps.109 However, there are two alternate
views on the use of the saltire halter, reflected in the depictions of them in Fig. 2 and
Fig. 3.110 The first, linked to Fig. 2, is that the saltire and girdle was linked to
weaponry and their holstering, as Ishtar was known for her warlike attributes as much
as her sexual ones.111 This seems practical, as leather straps such as these would have
provided a good deal of support for something to have been carried on the back, and
for supplies to have been attached to the front, much like modern day ammunition
belts. They would also have not restricted movement of the wearer, an important
aspect for any soldier. On the other hand, Fig. 3 shows the saltire without the support
of the girdle and as jewellery, which is bound in the cleavage of the breasts. Bahrani
argues that the ‘crossed halter seems to be portrayed as an article of adornment’, and
specifically refers to the jewellery augmenting the ‘sexual allure’ of the wearer.112
107
Marcovich, 1996: 46.
108
Cornelius, 2004: Plate 5.16; Bahrani, 2001: 156.
109
Bahrani, 2001: 155.
110
Bahrani, 2001: 155.
111
Cornelius, 2004: Plate 5.16.
112
Bahrani, 2001: 155.
These two sides to the symbolism of the crossed halter find common ground in the
duality of Ishtar, where the goddess ‘always’ wears the saltire, but its purpose (and the
appearance of the girdle) changes, depending upon whether she is displayed primarily
for reasons of fertility and sexuality, or as a symbol of authority and power.113
Although it is in reality rather speculative, Marcovich does present a
compelling case for the direct influence of Ishtar as the primogenitor of Aphrodite,
and thus, in the absence of equally compelling evidence that Aphrodite and the κεστὸν
ἱμάντα spawned from another source, there is little option but to build from this
theory. The vagueness of the description in Homer may indeed be due to the ill-
translated duality of Ishtar into that of Aphrodite, who is without a doubt more
associated with sex, beauty and fertility (as discussed in chapter 4) than power and
war. The κεστὸν ἱμάντα might have sometimes been displayed as solely a girdle (as in
Fig.4), without a girdle (as in Fig.3), or as the girdled saltire brassiere (as in Fig.2). It
may have been that the κεστὸν ἱμάντα in fact was represented based on the developing
fashion of the time, especially with perception of beauty and fashion being
intrinsically linked, and so it became more associated with being a girdle or similar
item, such as in the example of Aphrodite Hypolympidia (Fig.4.) dating from the
much later second century B.C.
The spell itself is as flexible in its description as the item itself; enchantments
that cause philia related emotions, evoking a sense of longing and allurement that was
powerful enough to pacify and make Zeus respond positively towards Hera’s
advances. The evidence of the κεστὸν ἱμάντα being used in the magical tradition
comes to the Greek world via Asclepiades, a third century B.C poet who mentions a
113
Bahrani, 2001: 155.
girdle worn by an ‘easy Hermione’.114 The girdle itself is described by Asclepiades as
having two aims, the first is for her partner to ‘keep loving me forever’, both a
demanding and non-definitive enchantment, if not the most unusual.115 These sorts of
requests, when used without the awareness of the partner are arguably more
controlling, if less exacting, than the agōge type of spells, as discussed in chapter 3.
The second aim is to prevent anger towards the wearer, especially in the case of
infidelity, something which is more exacting, and also controlling.116 The κεστὸν
ἱμάντα therefore raises another discussion on love magic, which is as yet unexplored,
but also present to a more limited degree in PGM XIXa, DTA 78 and mēla, that is the
ease of which these spells can be used, and how they might manipulate a partner.
With the first three examples, especially the defixiones, it is clear that the spell is
designed to remain active for either a specified period of time, or forever. However,
with the κεστὸν ἱμάντα being a worn garment, it can be taken off, and also given to
someone else, as in Homer, where its power is transferred from Aphrodite to Hera.117
This places the power to be able to control when the subject of the spell is affected
and when they are not, into the hands of the wearer, a sort of control which indirectly
gives the user another layer of power over the subject. The wearer can potentially
manipulate situations further due to this. Indeed, the entire use of the κεστὸν ἱμάντα in
the Iliad revolves around Aphrodite’s ability to transfer her power to Hera, who in
turn is able to deceive Aphrodite first, as to its intended use, and then deceive Zeus
via the enchantments.118
114
Gow & Page, 1965: 45.IV.AP.5.158.
115
Gow & Page, 1965: 45.IV.AP.5.158.
116
Gow & Page, 1965: 45.IV.AP.5.158.
117
Hom. Il. 14.
118
Hom. Il. 14.
Despite this, as Faraone suggests, it is easy to interpret this inscription as a
warning rather than a spell.119 The ease with which Asclepiades is able to recount the
exact inscription, and what it was attached to, indicates how obvious it was to him.
Therefore, it is clear that rather than being unaware of an enchantment, it may have
been that men such as Asclepiades saw this as a sort of contract; that if a man was to
couple with Hermione, he should not be surprised if she is not faithful, and that there
might be consequences if he does not love her all the same.120 This draws parallels
with the similar potentiality shown in the use of apple throwing, and perhaps this
indicates there is an entire subject of Greek social cues that should be investigated.
However, the inscription is not written in terms of a contract, nor a warning, but rather
as a request or a plea, which is more akin to what can be found on DTA 78.121 This
action may seem a contradiction to the magic used in curses (which is usually
conducted privately), but is a case of Hermione placing great faith in her ability as a
sorceress. A man might either be aware of but be unable to change the effect of the
girdle on him, or due to its effect might be unaware of it at all, at least in the mind of
Hermione, potentially a naïve hetairai trying to avoid the wrath of her customers.
As such, while the κεστὸν ἱμάντα is materially ambigious, the wording of the spell
indicates an attempt to gain social control over the partner. This occurs either through
the overt warning of the partner, and the contractual obligation to understand the
warning, or the implications that this was indeed a spell which was designed to
covertly pacify and control the subject. In the mythological example from Homer, it is
certainly the second case, which would indicate that the example provided by
119
Faraone, 1999: 101.
120
The text is translated as ‘if another man holds me’ indicating that it was men that this was directed
at. Faraone, 1999: 101; Gow & Page, 1965: 45.IV.AP.5.158.
121
Gow & Page, 1965: 45.IV.AP.5.158.
Asclepiades is an imitation of that. Either way, the garment itself would not have been
worn to reduce the alluring nature of the wearer, similarly to that of Ishtar in Fig.3.
The κεστὸν ἱμάντα, therefore, represents a good deal of the ambiguity present
in the wider range of Ancient Greek love magic, so it is fortunate indeed that we have
examples of defixiones such as PGM XIXa, which are un-ambiguous in their nature.
The sometimes saltire, sometimes girdle, often interpreted differently, kestos himas,
potentially finds its use in this ambiguity. The power of the enchantments used in the
Iliad are both vague enough to be applicable in a wide variety of situations, and
powerful enough to fill the user with confidence, as in the case of Hermione.
Although the examples of them being used are few and far between, this may reflect
their material nature, as all organic material is susceptible to the passage of time in a
similar way to mēla. The link between Assyrian and Greek traditions merits further
discussion, as they clearly crossover to some degree. However, the sense that one can
rely on the Assyrian tradition to fill gaps in the evidence of Greek magic sits ill with
the need for factual evidence to back it up, and despite the convincing ability of those
such as Marcovich and Faraone to link them together, it relies on the assumption that
the Greeks took their cultural inspiration from them alone, which is simplistic and
unrealistic.
Figure 2: Qedeshet, Astarte, Anat. Illustration:

S. Beaulieu, from Cornelius, 2004: Plate 5.16.
Figure 3: Nude Woman with Body Jewellery.

Photograph: Christian Larrieu, from Bahrani,
2001: Plate 36.
Figure 4: Marble Cult Statue of Aphrodite Hypolympidia.

Photograph: Carole Raddato, 2012.
6
Conclusion
Any conclusion reached in the pursuit of whether the purpose of Greek love
magic was to control the partner is susceptible to a great deal of scrutiny, as proven by
the multiple discussions that surround the topic. This is due to the qualitative nature of
the research undertaken. However, overall, it seems the purpose of magic, and the
purpose of the magical examples analysed, is control. This is manifest in different
ways, according to the motivations of the spell-caster and the use of the spell.
It is clear that, without exception, the typical agōge spell, and thus a great deal
of the material evidence of the use of love magic, strictly compels the subject of the
binding to submit to the demands of the potential beneficiary, although on a case by
case analysis, the extent of this violent form of control changes. The extremism of the
language, and the nature of spells that are motivated by eros in this way, make it
abundantly clear that people such as Apalos (PGM XIXa), or Septimia (DT 270) had
very specific demands and intentions, ones that revolved solely around obtaining
control where it was otherwise difficult to do so.122 Agōgai spells however, as has
been discussed, do raise the question of what love actually means, and whether,
therefore, they can be categorised as love magic. However, despite the back and forth
discussion of this subject between those such as Winkler, Gager and Eidinow, it is
clear that it is the modern understanding of love that problematizes the ancient
122
Betz, 1986: PGM XIXa 1-54; Frankfurter, 2014: 3; DT. 270.
Conclusion
evidence.123 The complexity of relationships, as discussed by Brussendorff and
Henningsen, the admittance from Gager that these spells cannot be fully understood
literally, the presence of symbols of love alongside the motivation of eros, the sheer
amount of material evidence that is extant, and the assertion that Greek relationships
were fluid in both their structure and emotion, make agōgai spells a justifiably
important aspect of the subject.124
Defixiones as a whole, however, are not quite so explicit in the nature of the
control that they seek to exert over the partner. DTA 78, and separation curses of the
same nature, retain the same sense in that they seek to gain control over a situation
where there is none, yet the way this takes form develops over time. The usefulness of
comparing the later example of PGM XIXa to DTA 78 has been shown by indicating
both the similarities and differences between them, such as the binding aspects of
both, and the change in the tradition of naming a person’s maternal lineage, which
developed as the magical tradition became more established and complex. They also
differ in terms of the intended beneficiary of the spell, and the motivations of that
person, (one being experienced in the use of magic, or employing the services of one
who is, and one not) yet they attempt to reach a similar objective. DTA 78's attempt to
control the partner is obvious, but akin to other spells of its type (and in Eidinow's
opinion, women's erotic magic) there is a sense that the control is indirect, and that
instead it is the potential ‘risks’ to the influence of Aristocydes' partner that are
directly challenged.125 This is no less controlling than the first example, although the
focus is applied to those surrounding Aristocydes rather than on him specifically.
However, as the spell necessitated naming the subject in the primitive early form, it is
123
Winkler, 1991: 217; Gager, 1992: 83; Eidinow, 2007: 208-211.
124
Gager, 1992: 81.
125
Eidinow, 2007: 221.
Conclusion
true that this binding spell is indeed motivated by a will to gain control over him
alone.
Both the example of apple throwing and the kestos himas also demonstrate
degrees of control but, unlike the binding spells, they pose much more vague
questions as to their intentions, something which can be manipulated on a case by
case basis by the user, and might also indicate that, in some instances, they were not
used as a means for gaining control, but instead as a means for transferring control on
to the subject. In the case of mēla it is unclear exactly how the apple might have been
used in every situation. It is clear from Plato’s examples that sometimes there was a
complete lack of magical connotation, as the Greek Anthology provides merely the
intentions of the apple-giver.126 This is useful in analysing the intentions of the apple
thrower, and how apples might have played a social role in courting, but indicates that
potentially this enchantment, if there was one, was not focused on the control of the
receiver. However, in the magical examples that we have available, such as SM 72,
there is a clear trend that the apple seems to have a potentially unwanted and strongly
compelling magical nature, paralleling it with agōge spells.127 Despite this, and the
clear parallels when the apples are indeed used with a magical aspect, it is arguable
that the subject has a layer of control absent in the other examples. In many of the
cases, including that of Atalanta and Hippomenes, the examples of apples being used
in marriage, and the example of communal passive magic given by Littlewood, the
apple must first be accepted.128 Considering the ability of Aristophanes (a comparably
early author), to satirise the use of a prostitute throwing an apple in his play Clouds, it
is also likely that the receiver would be aware of the potentialities regarding the
126
127
SM 72. 1.5-14.
128
Ovid. Met. X. 650-660; Littlewood, 1968: 155; Stesich. Frag. 10 (page) apud Athen. 3.21D.
Conclusion
apple.129 Therefore, it is only in the cases in which the apple does not have to be first
accepted (as in the case of Clouds), that total control over the subject and partner is
sought.130 In the other cases, and the materially evident majority, the apple represents
a conscious decision to accept the offering. A caveat to this is that although the initial
decision is the recipient’s, the desire to control and cause supernatural force to incite
otherwise absent feelings is occasionally extant, meaning that this spell attempts to
exert control over the partner, but that this is accepted by the partner in turn.
The κεστὸν ἱμάντα, on the other hand poses questions as to its interpretation by
being ambiguous in both its form and its exact use. Due to the discussion on its origin
not being resolved, it is arguable that the analysis of this object is not complete. To
compound the problems relating to the κεστὸν ἱμάντα, the evidence provided by
Asclepiades only exacerbates the potential ambiguity.131 This article finds that the
most likely way the embroidered strap(s) were used, was to influence the thoughts of
the partner, and predispose him or her to appreciate the wearer in ways that they
would not otherwise be capable of. Whether this was done with the knowledge and
acceptance of the partner is unclear, and therefore again, unresolvable, but either way,
some degree of control was sought. The fact that the original and most important
source for the κεστὸν ἱμάντα, Homer’s Iliad, illustrates it being utilised maliciously
and unbeknownst to Zeus, sways the argument towards treating it as if it attempted to
gain a great deal of control over the partner.132
Returning to the question of whether the focus of magic was primarily
concerned with obtaining control over the (potential) partner, the findings of this
129
Ar. Clouds. 997.
130
Arguably the context of the argument within the play might imply that first the decision to become
vulnerable to the use of mēla is conscious, and therefore within the control of the subject to influence.
131
Gow & Page, 1965: 45.IV.AP.5.158.
132
Hom. Il. 14.197-217.
Conclusion
research indicate that, yes, this was the primary purpose. At this stage, without the
complete accounting for the plethora of spells that remain to be analysed, the potential
exceptions account for small a minority. However, the intentions, means and
timeframe in which these spells are used are equally varied, developing over time in
the case of defixiones, or ambigious throughout their existence in the case of mēla and
the kestos himas. This assertion is testament to the complexity of relationships in the
antique period, much the same as relationships in the modern era, but it is only
through further exploration into topics such as this, the role of women in love and
magic, the origin of Greek magical tradition, and its material nature that one might
attempt a more complete and universal answer.
Bibliography
Part a: Ancient Scholarship.

Apollodorus, Bibliotheca. R. Hard (trans.). 1997. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Aristophanes, Clouds. K. J. Dover (trans.). 1989. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Aristotle, De Anima. D. W. Hamlyn & C. Shields (trans.). 1993. Oxford: Clarendon
Press.
Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics. T. Irwin (trans.). 1999. Indianapolis: Hackett.
Athenaeus, The Deipnosophists. C. D. Yonge (trans.). 1854. London: G. Bohn.
Chrysostom, Homilies on Romans. J. Walker, J. Sheppard & H. Browne (trans.).
1889. Buffalo: Christian Literature Publishing.
Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Eminent Philosophers. R. D. Hicks (trans.). 1925.
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Euripidies, Bacchae. S. Mills (trans.). 2006. London: Duckworth.
Hesiod, ‘The Catalogue of Women and the Eoiae’. Hesiod, The Homeric Hymns, and
Homerica. H. G. Evelyn-White (trans.). 1914. Cambridge, MA: Loeb Classics.
Homer, Iliad. P. V. Jones, D. C. H. Rieu & E. V. Rieu (trans.). 2004. Alnwick:
Achilles Press.
Homer, Odyssey. G. S. Kirk. (trans.). 2008. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Ovid, Metamorphoses. A. D. Melville (trans.). 1998. Oxford: Oxford University
Press.
Pausanias, Description of Greece. W. H. S. Jones & H. A. Ormerod (trans.). 1918.
London: William Heinemann.
Pherecydes, Author 3 in FGrH/BNJ.
Pindar, Olympian Odes, Pythian Odes. W. H. Race (trans.). 1997. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.
Plato, Greek Anthology. W. R. Paton (trans.). 1993. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press.
Plato, Protagoras. J. Burnet (trans.). 1903. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Plato, Symposium. R. L. Hunter (trans.). 2004. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Theocritus, Idylls. R. J. Cholmeley (trans.). 1919. London: Bell.
Xenphon, Memorabilia, Oeconomicus. J. Henderson, E. C. Marshall, G. A. Sauppe &
O. J. Todd (trans.). 2013. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Bibliography
Part b: Modern Scholarship.

Audollent, A. M. H. 1904. Defixionum Tabellae. Paris: University of Paris.
Autenrieth, G. 1891. A Homeric Dictionary for Schools and Colleges. New York:
Harper and Brothers.
Bahrani, Z. 2001. Women of Babylon: Gender and Representation in Mesopotamia.
New York: SUNY Press.
Betz, H. D. 1986. The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press.
Bonner, C. 1949. ‘KESTOS HIMAS and the Saltire of Aphrodite’ American Journal
of Philosophy. 70. 1-6.
Borgeaud, P. 1988. The Cult of Pan in Ancient Greece. Atlass, K & Redfield, J
(trans.). University of Chicago Press: Chicago.
Bissera, V. 2010. The Sensual Icon. Pennsylvania: Penn State University Press.
Brenk, F. E. 1998. Relighting the Souls: Studies in Plutarch, in Greek Literature,
Religion, and Philosophy, and in the New Testament Background. Weisbaden: Franz
Steiner Verlag.
Brussendorf, O. & Henningsen, P. 1963. A History of Eroticism. New York: Lyle
Stuart.
Chaniotis, A.; Pleket, H. W.; Stroud, R. S. & Strubbe, J. H. M. 2016. ‘SEG 48-361.
Attica. Lead Curse Tablet, 4th Cent B.C.’ Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum.
Leiden: Brill.
Cornelius, I. 2004. The Many Face of the Goddess: The Iconography of the Syro-
Palestinian Goddesses Anat, Qedeshet and Asherah c.1500-1000 BCE. Fribourg:
Academic Press.
Daniel. R. W. & Maltomini. F. ‘Supplementum Magicum’ Papyrologica Coloiensia.
16.1 & 2. Opladen: Verlag.
Eidinow, E. 2007. Oracles, Curses and Risk amongst the Ancient Greeks. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Faraone, C. 1999. Ancient Greek Love Magic. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press.
______, C. 1991. ‘The Agnostic Context of Early Greek Binding Spells’ in C.
Faraone & D. Obbink (eds.). Magicka Hiera. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Foster, B. O. 1899. ‘Notes on the Symbolism of the Apple in Classical Antiquity’.
Harvard Studies in Classical Philology. 10. 39-55.
Frankfurter, D. 2014. ‘The Social Context of Women’s Erotic Magic in Antiquity’ in
Daughters of Hecate: Women and Magic in the Ancient World. K. Stratton & D.
Kalleres (eds.). Oxford: Oxford University Press Scholarship Online. 1-20.
Fritz, G. ‘Hera’. 2016. Brill’s New Pauly.
http://referenceworks.brillonline.com.ezproxy.uwtsd.ac.uk/entries/brill-s-new-
pauly/hera-e508040. [Accessed: 10th March 2016].
Bibliography
Gager, J. G. 1992. Curse Tablets and Binding Spells from the Ancient World. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Gow, A. S. F. & Page. D. 1965. The Greek Anthology: Hellenistic Epigrams.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Heintz, F. 1996. ‘A Greek Silver Phylactery in the MacDaniel Collection’ Zeitschrift
für Papyrologie un Epigraphik. 112. 195-300.
Hernández, R. M. 2010. ‘A Magical Amulet at the Abbey of Montserrat’. Zeitschrift
für Papyrologie und Epigrafik. 172. 220-222.
Inwood, C. ’Persephone, Kore’. 2016. Brill’s New Pauly.
pauly/persephone-kore-e914950. [Accessed: 10th March 2016].
Jordan, D. R. 1988. ‘A New Reading of a Papyrus Love Charm in the Louvre’.
Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigrafik. 74. 231-243.
Kotansky, R. 2016. ‘Getty Hexameters, the.’ Oxford Research Encyclopedia,
Classics. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Kurke, L. 1997. ‘Inventing the Hetaira: Sex, Politics and Discursive Conflict in
Archaic Greece’. Classical Antiquity. 16. 1. 107-108.
Lee, J. A. 1973. Colours of Love: An Exploration of the Ways of Loving. Toronto:
New Press.
Levaniouk, O. 2007. ‘The Toys of Dionysos’. Harvard Studies in Classical Philiogy.
103. 165-202.
Levy, D. 1979. ‘The Definition of Love in Plato’s Symposium’. Journal for the
History of Ideas. 40. 2. 285-291.
Liddell, H. G. & Scott, R. 1940. A Greek-English Lexicon. Oxford: The Clarendon
Press.
Littlewood, A. R. 1968. ‘The Symbolism of the Apple in Greek and Roman
Literature’. Harvard Studies in Classical Philology. 72. 147-181.
Marcovich, M. 1996. ‘From Ishtar to Aphrodite’. The Journal of Aesthetic Education.
30. 2. 43-59.
Moseley, A. ‘Internet Encyclopaedia of Philosophy’. 2015. Philosophy of Love.
http://www.iep.utm.edu/love/#H1 [Accessed: 8th January 2016].
Németh, G. 2013. The Corpse Daemon Antinoos. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press.
Ormand, K. 2014. The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women and Archaic Greece. London:
Cambridge University Press.
Ogden, D. 2002. Magic, Witchcraft and Ghosts in the Greek and Roman Worlds: A
Sourcebook. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Onians, R. B. 1951. The Origins of Western Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Bibliography
Pachoumi, E. 2013. ‘The Erotic and Seperation Spells of the Magical Papyri and
Defixiones’. Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies. 53. 294-325.
Pirenne-Delforge, V. & Ley, A. ‘Aphrodite’. 2016. Brill’s New Pauly.
pauly/aphrodite-e127370. [Accessed: 10th March 2016].
Raddato, C. ‘Marble cult statue of Aphrodite Hypolympidia, from the santuary of Isis,
2nd c. BC, Archaeological Museum, Dion’. 2012. Wikimedia Commons.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Marble_cult_statue_of_Aphrodite_Hypoly
mpidia,_from_the_santuary_of_Isis,_2nd_c._BC,_Archaeological_Museum,_Dion_(7
079958443).jpg. [Accessed: 15th April 2016].
Rynearson, N. 2009. ‘A Callimachean Case of Lovesickness: Magic, Diesease and
Desire in “Aetia”’. The American Journal of Philology. 130. 3. 341-365.
Sullivan, S. D. 1983. ‘Love Influences Phrenes in Greek Lyric Poetry’. Symbolae
Osloenses. 58, 15-22.
Slater, W. J. 1969. Lexicon to Pindar. Berlin: De Gruyter.
Theoi Project ‘Cult Titles of Aphrodite’ 2015.
http://www.theoi.com/Cult/AphroditeTitles.html. [Accessed: 10th March 2016].
Wilhelm, A. 1904. ‘Über die Zeit eingier Attische Fluchtefeln’. Jahreshefte des
Österreichischen Archäologischen Institutes in Wien. 7. 105-126.
Winkler, J. J. 1991. ‘The Constraints of Eros’ in C. Faraone & D. Obbink (eds.).
Magicka Hiera. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Wünsch. R. 1897. Defixionum Tabellae Atticae, Inscriptiones Graecae 3.3. Berlin.

A. Dissertation Final (Revised)

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

A. Dissertation Final (Revised)

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Description:

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

A. Dissertation Final (Revised)

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

The Focus of Magic:

Was Ancient Greek Love Magic

2|Ric hard Manklo w

advice and constant reminders to remain focused, as well as the plethora of

someone to lean on when work has become overwhelming.

3|Ric hard Manklo w

4|Ric hard Manklo w

1: PGM XIXa.1-54. Translation: E. N. O’Neil & R.

2: Qedeshet, Astarte, Anat. Illustration: S. Beaulieu, from

3: Nude Woman with Body Jewellery. Photograph:

4: Marble Cult Statue of Aphrodite Hypolympidia.

5|Ric hard Manklo w

BNJ I. Worthington & F. Jacoby. 2007-2017. Brill’s New Jacoby. Leiden:

DT A. Audollent. 1904. Defixionum Tabellae. Paris: University of Paris.

DTA R. Wünsch. 1897. Defixionum Tabellae Atticae, Inscriptiones Graecae.

FGrH F. Jacoby. 1923. Die Fragmente der Griechischen Historiker. Berlin:

GMPT H. Betz. 1986. The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation. Chicago:

KAR E. Ebeling. 1915-1923. Keilscrifturkunden aus Assur Religiösen

LSJ H. Liddell, R. Scott, et al. 1940. A Greek-English Lexicon. Oxford: The

PGM K. Presendanz & A. Henrichs. 1973-1974. Papyri Graecae Magicae:

SEG A. Chaniotis, T. Corsten, N. Papzarkadas & R. Tybout. 1923-.

6|Ric hard Manklo w

Brusendorff & Henningsen, 1963: p.11

7|Ric hard Manklo w

concerned with the protection of a relationship, covers storge, a love deemed to be

8|Ric hard Manklo w

subject, specifically those of gender in Ancient Greece, something which is discussed

by Ove Brussendorff and Poul Henningsen.4 Relating to gender, Dean-Jones is able to

achieve an understanding of the ancient perception of women in a biological sense,

however it would be too simplistic to categorise women purely from a biological

standpoint, and this necessitates further discussion.5 Christopher Faraone, Matthew

9|Ric hard Manklo w

it is as difficult to fully empathise with an ancient lovesickness, anxiety, envy or

jealousy as it is a modern one.6

In order to be more effective in this research, and to establish how closely

identify four objects of comparative dissimilarity, in terms of location, medium of

In many of their forms, defixiones, or κατάδεσμος, provide a strong example of

century A.D., until Christianity superseded Graeco-Roman paganism.7 These agōgai

that are found commonly amongst agōgai spells.14 It is a flaw in Gager’s

pronouncement of this misnomer that he makes no effort to remedy any potential

misunderstanding that might take place, for he neither provides an alternative

It is clear from Winkler’s conclusion that he distinguishes between the perception of

apologetic to extremes of Greek love magic.15 Instead, it would be more pertinent to

went into these spells, perhaps an unconscious admittance in the scholarly

PGM XIXa 1-54 (Figure.1) is an example of a late antique Greek language

as such, their work is held in high esteem by Faraone.23 Evocative language

The subjugation of Karosa to the intended will of Apalos, by proxy of the

corpse’s spirit, manifests itself in vivid description throughout, and it is easy to

of an adulterous relationship with Apalos, leaving him helpless by what may be

considered normal means. Greek love is often characterised by terrible obsessions,

love mentioned earlier.

However, PGM XIXa cannot be said to be unique, because of many parallels

54 draws upon the tradition of a compelling maelstrom of feelings causing a leap or

whirling motion amongst those affected, as found in Euripides’ Bacchae, PGM

the frequency of which curses are found in graves or near to tombs.

PGM XIXa is also a good example of palindromes, or wing-shaped amulets, in

tradition in Greek magic.35 It is referred to as a heart by Gager, who considers the

what a doll would otherwise specify.37

providing a small selection of examples.39 Faraone, Dickie and Winkler analyse