AimThe neurocognitive basis of Developmental Coordination Disorder remains an issue of continued debate. This combined systematic review and meta-analysis provides a synthesis of recent experimental studies on the motor control, cognitive, and neural underpinnings of DCD.MethodsThe review included all published work conducted since September 2016 and up to April 2021. One-hundred papers with a DCD-Control comparison were included, with 1,374 effect sizes entered into a multi-level meta-analysis.ResultsThe most profound deficits were shown in: voluntary gaze control during movement; cognitive-motor integration; practice-/context-dependent (...) motor learning; internal modeling; more variable movement kinematics/kinetics; larger safety margins when locomoting, and atypical neural structure and function across sensori-motor and prefrontal regions.InterpretationTaken together, these results on DCD suggest fundamental deficits in visual-motor mapping and cognitive-motor integration, and abnormal maturation of motor networks, but also areas of pragmatic compensation for motor control deficits. Implications for current theory, future research, and evidence-based practice are discussed.Systematic Review RegistrationPROSPERO, identifier: CRD42020185444. (shrink)

In the fourth line of her first speech in Book 1, to Ilioneus and the Trojan castaways, Dido quotes the first word of the first line of Lucretius’ De rerum natura, and in the fourth line of her second speech, to Aeneas, she quotes the first words of the second line of the De rerum natura. This is not a coincidence but a signal of the importance of Lucretius and Epicureanism for the characterization of Dido in the Aeneid.

Commentators since antiquity have seen connections between Virgil's Dido and the philosophy of the Garden, and several recent studies have drawn attention to the echoes of Lucretius in the first and fourth books of the Aeneid. This essay proposes that there is an even richer and more extensive Epicurean presence intertwined with the Dido episode. Although Virgilian quotations of Lucretius provide the most obvious references to Epicureanism, too narrow a focus on the traces of the De Rerum Natura (...) obscures important resonances with Virgil's more obvious models: the Odyssey and Apollonius' Argonautica. Reversion to Homer and Apollonius, however, does not dim the Epicurean aura around Dido. Rather: echoes of Nausikaa and other Phaeacian traditions reinforce Dido's links with the Garden. At play here is a widespread ancient tradition of disparaging Epicurus by calling him "the Phaeacian philosopher." But by evoking this tradition, Virgil is not necessarily engaging in a standard polemic against the Epicureans. Instead of foreclosing any particular reading, the intertextual modes of the Aeneid turn various possibilities of interpretation over to the reader. (shrink)

Vasari said that Marcantonio Raimondis first engraving after a design by Raphael was the Suicide of Lucretia, but he most likely confused it with the similar but much smaller Suicide of Dido, also engraved by Marcantonio. Following the Didos success Raphael no doubt wished Lucretia to be larger and bolder. The two figures were probably recycled from a group of dancers, perhaps the Muses, projected for a mural decoration; a drawing by Raphael adapted to Lucretia is precisely in the (...) style of his Parnassus studies The hypothesis that Dido and Lucretia were initially conceived as dancers is supported by a montage of the two figures silhouetted and by a glance at contemporary representations of dancing Muses. (shrink)

Dido's Epicureanism is as complex and problematic as Aeneas' much-discussed Stoicism. This paper argues that Virgil's allusions to Lucretius form a consistent pattern: Dido embodies the ironies inherent in Epicureanism as practiced by Virgil's contemporaries, mouthing apparently Lucretian sentiments even as she comes to personify a Lucretian exemplum malum. Yet her fall is largely due to the pervasive supernatural machinery of the Aeneid-divine intervention which Lucretius declares impossible. In Book 1, Virgil employs Lucretian allusions in distinctly un-Lucretian contexts (...) to suggest in Dido a disjunction between words and actions. There is a Lucretian flavor in the description of her initial equanimity, in her injunction to the Trojans to put away fear and cares, and in the scientific rationalism of the song of Iopas. These passages contrast with the sensualism evident in her lavish court and her growing passion for Aeneas-excesses of luxury and love described in words that Lucretius used to condemn them. In Book 4, Virgil more directly refutes Lucretian doctrine about the mortality of the soul and the indifference of the gods. The sarcastic questions of Anna and Iarbas are implicitly answered in such a way as to refute the Epicurean stance. Dido points to the gods' indifference a few seconds before she invokes their aid, and her final submission to Fate occurs in words that Lucretius used to deny its existence. Finally, the departure of Dido's soul recalls Lucretius' atoms of "heat and wind," in ironic contrast to the immortality of her Shade. (shrink)

Les recueils de Vies de femmes illustres, genre littéraire à succès à la Renaissance, utilisent l’exemplarité à des fins didactiques tout autant que polémiques. L’étude de la figure particulière de Didon permet d’envisager les enjeux et modalités de la construction de l’exemplarité féminine. Entre l’amoureuse éplorée de Virgile et l’intransigeante uniuira de Justin, la balance n’est pas égale. Seule Christine de Pizan entreprend de louer l’héroïne virgilienne, tandis que Champier mélange les sources pour en faire une digne épouse. De nombreux (...) auteurs dont Boccace, retiennent l’exemple de cellequi se sacrifia pour garder sa chasteté et sauver sa cité, indiquant par là les cadres fixés à l’héroïsme au féminin. (shrink)

In the so-called ‘Iliadic’Aeneid, Dido is scarcely mentioned. At first sight, Aeneas’ dalliance at Carthage is forgotten when he gets down to the serious business of establishing the Trojans in Italy. But the poem's last mention of Dido is enmeshed in a network of parallel passages elsewhere in theAeneidrelating to tunics and adoption. In the light of similarities between Aeneas and the superficially unimportant Trojan warrior Nisus, these passages bear crucially on the contrast between Aeneas’ public and privatepietas: (...) his obedience to imposed commitments and to chosen ones. In this way, Virgil provides guidance on what motivates Aeneas’ fury in Books 10 and 12. (shrink)

This note brings to light some instances of Vergilian borrowings from Lucretius and Catullus in the composition of the Dido episode. The way in which Vergil adapts these sources and combines them in the depiction of tormented love is discussed and it is suggested that a consequence of this is to invest the image of love eating Dido internally with a significance beyond that of an erotic topos.

Pompey has been treacherously killed, his body decapitated and thrown into the surf. The faithful Cornelia cannot give her husband a proper funeral, but must be content to place on the pyre all that is left of his greatness. Commentators are not of much help in this place, most caught up in tralatician glossing and hence content to echo the scholiastic reference to Pompey's three triumphs. Thomas Farnaby thought of the funeral of Misenus in Aeneid 6; but one looks in (...) vain to Grotius , Oudendorp , Burman , Bentley , Weber , Francken , Heitland-Haskins , Housman , Bourgery-Ponchont , and Luck for the most important parallel, which is to Dido in Aeneid. I adduce the passages Heinze well described as examples of ‘das Idealbild eines heroischen Weibes’: tu secreta pyram tecto interiore sub auras erige, et arma uiri thalamo quae fixa reliquit impius exuuiasque omnis lectumque iugalem, quo perii, super imponas: 494–7) super exuuias ensemque relictum effigiemque toro locat haud ignata futuri. hie, postquam Iliacas uestis notumque cubile conspexit, paulum lacrimis et mente morata incubuitque toro dixitque nouissima uerba: ‘dulces exuuiae…’. (shrink)

Shortly after his arrival at Carthage, while he is waiting for Dido to meet him, Aeneas finds that the walls of her temple are adorned with pictures of the Trojan War. Sunt hie etiam sua praemia laudi, he cries to Achates, sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt. The description of the pictures which follows is a remarkable example of Virgil's ability to use a traditional device in such a way as to strengthen and illuminate the main themes of (...) his poem. It is my object here first to reinterpret one of the scenes which has been misunderstood, and then to discuss how Virgil has chosen and arranged his episodes so that the description of a picture gallery becomes a part of an epic poem. (shrink)

According to many realist philosophers of fiction, one needs to posit an ontology of existing fictional characters in order to give a correct account of discourse about fiction. The realists' claim is opposed by pretense theorists for whom discourse about fiction involves, as discourse in fiction, pretense. On that basis, pretense theorists claim that one does not need to embrace an ontology of fictional characters to give an account of discourse about fiction. The ontolog-ical dispute between realists and pretense theorists (...) is mainly a dispute in the realm of the phi-losophy of language concerning the status relative to pretense of discourse about fiction. Realists are persuaded that there is a sharp line between discourse in fiction and discourse about fiction while pretense theorists deny there exists such a line. I suggest that realists may have a wrong picture of discourse in fiction since, in many cases, discourse in fiction already contains many occurrences of discourse about fiction. Consequently, discourse about fiction, instead of ending fiction, should be regarded, following pretense theorists, as adding extra lay-ers of fiction. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 126.4 (2005) 613-622 [Access article in PDF] The Triumph of Cupid: Marlowe's Dido Queen of Carthage Mary-Kay Gamel University of California, Santa Cruz e-mail: [email protected] is a lot for classicists to like in Marlowe's The Tragedy of Dido Queen of Carthage. There was a lot for theatergoers to like in Neil Bartlett's production of this play at the American Repertory Theatre (ART) in (...) Cambridge, Massachusetts (March 5–26, 2005).The script of Dido is based primarily on the Aeneid (Books I, II, and IV). Vergil's text contains many formal and thematic allusions to tragedy, especially in IV: the agonistic speeches; Anna's role as nutrix/confidante; comparisons of Dido to a raging Bacchant (301–3), Pentheus (469–70) and scaenis agitatus Orestes 471; and her thoughts of imitating the savage violence of Medea and Atreus 600–602. Aeneid IV raises the possibility that the poem will metamorphose from epic to tragedy, with Dido taking center stage from Aeneas.That is what happens in Ovid's Heroides 7, and it happens again in Dido Queen of Carthage. Marlowe probably wrote this play—his first—in 1585, when he was a twenty-one year old student at Cambridge University. An excellent Latinist, Marlowe did a superb translation of Ovid's Amores, probably before writing Dido. In writing Dido, Marlowe focused on Aeneid I, II, and IV, the books of the poem best known to ancient, Elizabethan, and modern audiences, and in a few places his characters speak Latin lines from the Aeneid. In dramatizing this material, Marlowe did not simply translate but made many changes in structure, characters, and language. Aeneas' account of the fall of Troy, for example, condenses all of Aeneid II (more than 800 lines) into 163 lines (still a very long speech, which includes horrific details not in Vergil: "young infants swimming in their parents' blood, / headless carcasses piled up in heaps" [II.i.193–94]).1 [End Page 613]Most significantly, Marlowe makes his gods Ovidian rather than Vergilian—selfish and petty, concerned only with status and pleasure, using human beings only to satisfy their desires. Jupiter is a middle-aged man making a fool of himself over a teenager: in the first scene he is not, as in the Aeneid, looking down from Olympus and already thinking about Aeneas, but rather trying to seduce Ganymede, a "female wanton boy," when Venus indignantly interrupts with "Ay, this is it!" (I.i.50).Venus' encounter with Aeneas in Carthage (Aeneid I.314–417) ends with Aeneas' unanswerable question, "Why talk we not together hand in hand / And tell our griefs in more familiar terms?" (I.i.245–46). Venus and Juno's plot to unite Dido and Aeneas is complete with sexual double-entendre: in the cave, Juno says, they will "interchangeably discourse their thoughts / Whose short conclusion will seal up their hearts" (III.ii.93–94). Costumes in the ART production reflected the gods' iconic status, though more in terms of Hollywood than ancient representations: Juno was a drag queen, Hermes an unearthly figure in gold paint with huge wings, while Venus was played by an African-American actress in white satin and spike heels (including her hunting outfit) with exaggeratedly "black" gestures and intonations—waving her long fingernails, arching her neck, posing her head, and calling Juno "sistah!" Bartlett was clearly not worried about using sexual and racial stereotypes to make an impact.Marlowe's mortals are dignified, yet wounded and vulnerable. His Dido is proud, independent, initially uninterested in Aeneas; his Iarbas genuinely loves Dido, warmly welcomes Ilioneus and the others; Anna is in love with Iarbas. All try to behave reasonably and honorably but are invariably thwarted by the gods' games. The ART Aeneas was deeply damaged by his experiences in Troy. A craggy man, wearing a scoured breastplate over worn fatigues, he staggered on, stooped, beaten. The text supports this interpretation: before beginning his speech about the fall of Troy, he says "memory... beats forth my senses from this... (shrink)

In his second appearance to Aeneas in Aeneid 4 Mercury drives the hero to flee Carthage with a false allegation that Dido is planning an attack, capping his warning with an infamous sententia about the mutability of female emotion. Building on a previous suggestion that Mercury's first speech to Aeneas is modelled on Athena's admonishment of Telemachus at the opening of Odyssey 15, this article proposes that Mercury's second speech as well is modelled on Athena's warning, in which the (...) goddess uses misdirection about Penelope's intentions and a misogynistic gnōmē about the changeability of women's affections to spur Telemachus’ departure from Sparta. After setting out how Virgil divides his imitation of Athena's speech verbally and thematically between Mercury's two speeches, the discussion turns to why both Athena and Mercury adopt these deceptive tactics. The speeches are shown to be culminations of the poets’ similar approaches to creating doubt and foreboding around the queens’ famed capacities for using δόλος. Common features in the ensuing hasty departures of Telemachus and Aeneas further confirm Virgil's use of Odyssey 15 in devising Aeneas’ escape from Carthage. (shrink)

This is the review of a book by Paula Byrne on Lord Mansfield's great-niece, Dido, whom he raised as his own daughter. Lord Mansfield was the Lord Chief Justice of England in the Eighteenth Century. The child was brought to him as an infant and grew up to become what we would today term his paralegal clerk in his Library at Kenwood House. His great-niece was the child of a black slave and his sister's son, Sir John Lindsay. This (...) is also a narrative of the British Slave trade including some of Lord Mansfield's judgements at the King's Bench Division, Royal Courts of Justice. (shrink)

Dido Belle was the illegitimate daughter of Captain Lindsay, the aristocratic nephew of William Murray, Scottish by birth and Lord Chief Justice of England for many decades. The book tells the story of Dido's life in Lord Mansfield homes, from the time her father begged Lord and Lady Mansfield to be wards of the child Dido to the death at age 88 of Lord Mansfield, mainly cared for by Dido and to Dido's young death at (...) age 43. It also raises issues of financial queries, Wills, Probate, and the place of a woman in society in those days, not quite chattel but not equal to men. (shrink)

What follows is an experiment in reading practice. I propose that we read some key passages of theAeneidand theMetamorphosesin the active pursuit of acrostics and telestics, just as we have been accustomed to read them in the active pursuit of allusions and intertexts; and that we do so with the same willingness to make sense of what we find. The measure of success of this reading practice will be the extent to which our understanding of these familiar and well-studied texts (...) can be usefully enriched by our interpretation of our discoveries (or rediscoveries). These will include an undiscovered authorial signature NASO in the ‘second proem’ of theMetamorphoses; an unnoticed self-referential response to Horace with NITIDO at the centre of Ovid's epic and a similarly self-referential AVSVM at the centre of Virgil's epic; in theAeneidwe will also find glances to Aratus with LEPTE and an Aratean anagram on Aeneas’ shield; and two new acrostics connecting Dido, Ajax and Lavinia. (shrink)

This note makes a new argument for van Lennep's conjecture di at Ovid, Heroides 7.21 against the manuscript reading te.

This is an investigation of an aspect of Virgil'sAeneid—ultimately, of the ways in which the poet guides his reader's response to Aeneas’ stay in Carthage—and, while it touches on Roman religious practice, clothing codes, late antique Virgilian commentary and Augustan ideology, it hinges on a single word inAeneidBook 4 and its implications for Virgil's depiction of his hero in this book. That word islaena, and it features in one of the most celebrated scenes of the poem, when Mercury descends to (...) earth to find Aeneas busily engaged in founding Carthage (Aen.4.259–64):ut primum alatis tetigit magalia plantis,Aenean fundantem arces ac tecta nouantemconspicit. atque illi stellatus iaspide fuluaensis erat Tyrioque ardebat murice laenademissa ex umeris, diues quae munera Didofecerat, et tenui telas discreuerat auro.As soon as Mercury with winged feet touched the Carthaginian huts, he caught sight of Aeneas founding the citadel and raising new buildings: his sword was studded with stars of yellow jasper, and alaena, hanging from/let down from his shoulders, blazed with Tyrian purple, a gift that Dido with her wealth had made, interweaving in the web a subtle cross-thread of gold.Line 4.262 is the only place in theAeneidwhere this word is used, and I shall be suggesting thatlaenarepresents an unusually evocative piece of clothing to put on Aeneas, even aside from the particular character, its decoration and origin, that Virgil attributes to the example Aeneas is wearing at lines 4.262–4. What I offer is a cumulative argument, as a whole (I believe) persuasive but also necessarily speculative given the limited state of our knowledge in various areas from religion to clothing. My essential claim is that Virgil is encouraging his reader at this point in the poem to associate Aeneas with, and judge his behaviour in comparison to, one of the most important members of the Roman priesthood. (shrink)