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Title: Antimachus of Colophon and the Position of Women in Greek Poetry: A fragment printed for the use of scholars
Author: Benecke, Edward Felix Mendelssohn
Language: English
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THE POSITION OF WOMEN IN GREEK POETRY ***
ANTIMACHUS OF COLOPHON
AND THE
_POSITION OF WOMEN IN GREEK POETRY_
ANTIMACHUS OF COLOPHON
AND THE
_Position of Women in Greek Poetry_
_E. F. M. BENECKE_
A Fragment
PRINTED FOR THE USE OF SCHOLARS
[Illustration]
_LONDON_
SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO., LIM.
1896
CONTENTS
PAGE
ESSAY I. WOMEN IN GREEK POETRY 1
” II. WOMEN IN GREEK COMEDY 117
EXCURSUS A. THEOGNIS (l. 261 _seqq._) 199
” B. THE “PHAEDRA” OF SOPHOCLES 201
” C. THE “ANDROMEDA” OF EURIPIDES 203
” D. THE “HIPPOLYTUS” OF EURIPIDES (Two Emendations) 206
” E. THE SECOND BOOK OF THEOGNIS 207
” F. WOMEN IN THE MIDDLE COMEDY 210
” G. WOMEN IN THE MIDDLE COMEDY FRAGMENTS (Analysis
of passages) 219
” H. WOMEN IN THE FRAGMENTS OF THE EARLY NEW COMEDY
(Analysis of passages) 233
” I. “WOMEN’S RIGHTS” IN THE MIDDLE COMEDY 243
” K. SOME FURTHER NOTES ON FAMILY RELATIONS AS TREATED
IN MIDDLE AND NEW COMEDY 245
INDEX A. OF AUTHORS AND SUBJECTS REFERRED TO 247
INDEX B. OF PASSAGES EMENDED OR DISCUSSED 252
TABLE OF COMIC FRAGMENTS 253
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
The author of the following pages met with his death in Switzerland on
July 16th, 1895, in his twenty-sixth year. Had he lived to complete the
whole work of which they form part, he might have recast it throughout;
and some apology is, perhaps, needed for its appearance in the present
form. Several scholars have, however, expressed their opinion that the
material contained in the extant fragments might be useful to those
engaged in similar studies, and they are accordingly published, in the
hope that this may prove to be the case.
From the author’s papers it appears that his work was, if completed, to
have been entitled “Women in Greek Poetry: being an Enquiry into the
Origin of the Romantic Element in Literature.” It was to have contained
three divisions, dealing respectively with (1) the position occupied by
women in the Greek lyric and tragic poets, (2) the part played by women
in Greek comedy, (3) the Alexandrian ideal of woman. The former of the
two essays contained in this volume (“Women in Greek Poetry”) no doubt
includes much that would have been incorporated in the first of these
three divisions. At the same time, as it was, in all probability, written
before the whole scheme was arranged, and was intended to be complete
in itself, it contains allusions to certain subjects which would more
naturally have fallen into the third, and would have received fuller
treatment there, while several points which belong properly to the first
division have not been treated on the scale which would finally have
belonged to them. The second essay (“Women in Greek Comedy”) corresponds
more nearly in subject to the author’s matured plan, but had still less
than the first essay the benefit of his final correction and revision.
This much is said, not in order to deprecate criticism (a result which
the author would have been the last to desire), but merely in explanation
of the occasional repetitions, and possibly also inconsistencies, which
are to be found in this volume.
In preparing the work for the Press as few alterations as possible have
been introduced, and the essays appear substantially in the form given
them by the author. Thus the second essay is divided into nine chief
sections, while the first has no such sub-divisions. Again, Excursus
F (which was originally written for the first essay) contains much
material which is elaborated in the second essay. In several places also,
especially towards the close of the volume, reference is made to parts
of the work which seem never to have been written. It is believed that
the reader will be anxious to possess the author’s own words so far as
possible, and, accordingly, the changes which have been adopted are only
such as the author would probably have made himself when revising his
work.
In references to the Greek lyric poets, the numbers are those of Bergk’s
_Poetae Lyrici Graeci_ (4th edition, 1878-82). The fragments of the
tragedians are cited from Nauck’s _Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta_
(2nd edition, 1889). For the comic fragments the author used Meineke’s
_Fragmenta Comicorum Graecorum_ (five vols. 1839-57). Meineke’s
numbering has been kept in the text, but a list will be found on page
253, giving the corresponding references to Kock’s _Comicorum Atticorum
Fragmenta_ (three vols. 1880-88) in all cases where the two editions
differ seriously. The references to Theocritus, Plautus, and Terence
have been verified from the editions of Ziegler, Ritschl, and Dziatzko,
respectively; but where the text is doubtful, the author appears to have
adopted what seemed to him the most probable reading, without following
any editor exclusively.
Additions by the editor of this volume are enclosed in square brackets.
He has to acknowledge most gratefully his indebtedness to several friends
for advice and assistance on various points.
WOMEN IN GREEK POETRY
Greek literature may be divided roughly into two parts, the earlier
school which culminated at Athens, and the later school which culminated
at Alexandria. The obvious differences between these two schools of
art have often been described, and there is no need to dwell on them
here; but the great, the essential difference between them has been too
generally ignored.
The chief inspiring element of all art is love; and it is in their
inspiration—that is to say, in their view of love—that the real
difference between the two schools consists. The love of the later poetry
is the love of man for woman; the love of the earlier poetry is the love
of man for man.
By “love” I mean here love in the modern sense. A man of the Alexandrian
Age might say “I love you” to a woman, and mean by that what a man may
mean if he says as much to-day; before that time a man could only have
said “I love you” in this sense to a friend of his own sex. There is no
trace in literature of what we now understand by the word “love” earlier
than the end of the fourth century.
This phenomenon has been noticed before—indeed, it is one that could not
very well escape notice—though its true importance has not always been
appreciated; and the general consensus of opinion has agreed to ascribe
this great change, the greatest change perhaps that has ever come over
art, to the influence of two men, Euripides and Menander. My object in
writing now is to endeavour to show, firstly, that this general view is
a mistaken one, arising from an insufficient appreciation of the true
nature of the change; and secondly, that the real originator of that new
feeling which we encounter in Alexandrian literature,—in other words, the
first man who had the courage to say that a woman is worth loving,—was
Antimachus of Colophon.
The commonly accepted view as to the origin of that “romantic” feeling
(for so, for briefness’ sake, it will be convenient to call it)[1] which
meets us in Alexandrian literature, would seem to be due to a confusion,
arising from a misunderstanding of what that feeling really is. This
confusion takes two distinct forms. Thus, in the case of some writers,
the improved tone with regard to women which appears in Greek erotic
literature from the fourth century onwards, has been confounded with
that improvement in their social and intellectual position which was
so marked a feature of the latest period of the history of classical
Greece. In other words, romantic feelings have been spoken of as if they
were identical with feelings of social and intellectual respect. That
they are not, scarcely requires even to be stated. Others again, while
perceiving the distinction between these two entirely different things,
have yet argued as if the one were the natural and inevitable outcome
of the other, and inseparably connected therewith; as if, in fact, all
that was necessary to purify and elevate the feelings of men towards
women had been the social emancipation of the latter. This view is of
course possible, and as such is entitled to consideration rather than
the previous one; but not only is it improbable in itself, but it is
also in direct opposition to the teaching of history: for while no one
would deny that this emancipation, if more or less simultaneous with the
appearance of the romantic feeling, would serve at once to disseminate
and to dignify it, how entirely independent the one is of the other is
sufficiently proved by the conditions prevailing in the Middle Ages.
It is surely a fact which cannot well be ignored in discussing this
question, that just during that period of history when “chivalry” and
“romance” were at their height, the social and intellectual position of
women, both absolutely and relatively, was perhaps lower than at any time
before since the creation of the world.[2]
When once the romantic element is cut clear from all extraneous
entanglements, so that it is possible to recognise what it really is, it
becomes, I think, immediately evident that neither Euripides nor Menander
can have much to do with its origin. The leading motive of romance is the
idea that pure love for a woman may justifiably form the chief interest
in a man’s life. But this idea, as I hope to be able to show clearly,
does not appear in literature until after the time of Euripides, while it
is already to be found fully developed before the time of Menander. This
being so, it seems impossible to regard either of these writers as the
originators of it.
In the course of the following pages, I shall therefore endeavour to
show, by a detailed examination of such parts of the contemporary
literature as bear upon the subject, that low as was the social position
of woman in most parts of Greece during the so-called classical period,
the place which she occupied in the minds of men and in their art was
even lower, and that her subsequent social emancipation did not by any
means immediately lead to her being regarded with any more real respect.
In the course of this argument, I purpose to dwell especially on the
influence of Euripides, and hope to succeed in making it clear that
though he, as judged by his works, was strongly in favour of giving
women larger liberties, and firmly convinced that their capacities both
for good and evil were far greater than the more old-fashioned among
his contemporaries supposed, there is yet nowhere in his plays any real
love-element as between man and woman, nor is it anywhere suggested that
love for a woman may be a determining factor in a man’s life.
Secondly, I purpose by a similar process to show that that place which
in later Greek art and in modern times is occupied by the love of man
for woman, was occupied among the earlier Greeks by the love of man for
man—a fact which, though it may at first sight appear foreign to the
immediate subject of our enquiry, is yet of such extreme importance for a
true understanding of the history of the origin of the romantic feeling,
that a consideration of it can on no account be omitted from any work
professing in any way to deal with that question. For it cannot be too
strongly emphasised that those who wish to study the development of love,
as we now know it, must commence their studies with an examination of
this essentially primitive emotion. It cannot be too strongly emphasised
that love, as it now exists, has been evolved, not from the sexual
instinct, but from the companionship of the battle-field, that the first
real lovers the world ever knew were comrades in arms. The _Iliad_ of
Homer is a love story, its heroes Achilles and Patroclus; the _Ajax_ of
Sophocles is a love story, its heroes Ajax and Teucer. To ignore such
facts as these is wilfully to misunderstand the meaning of Greek poetry
and the meaning of Greece in the history of the world.
Having thus cleared the ground, I hope finally to show that it was
Antimachus who first taught that that love which was possible between man
and man was possible also between man and woman.
Antimachus stands at the junction of the two great tendencies of
his time. The influence of Sparta and of Euripides was gradually
re-emancipating women, and showing that their powers and their passions
were at least equal to those of men; the steady growth and development
of that relation between man and man which found its highest exponent in
Plato had made it clear, even to the blindest, that love was possible as
distinct from lust. It was left to Antimachus to unite the two streams
of thought in one, and to show that woman, with her newly-awakened
capabilities, was a worthy object of pure and chivalrous devotion.
The works of Antimachus are lost, and none of the few fragments which
survive are of any importance. All discussion with reference to them
must therefore be based on suppositions and an examination of relative
probabilities. The risks of error in entering on such doubtful ground
are manifestly infinite, and conclusions can be reached only through the
accumulation of a mass of evidence, the separate particles of which are
often in themselves of very little weight; the veil of darkness covering
all such Greek literature as does not bear the hall-mark of Athens is so
thick that it is perhaps no longer possible for the real truth about it
ever to be known. _Ceterum, fiat justitia._ It is a bold claim, I know,
that I am making for Antimachus; it is a claim which, if established,
would give him right to rank among the greatest poets of the world: it
would give him right to rank as the founder of modern literature. How
great a poet he really was we do not know. Perhaps my estimation of his
importance is altogether exaggerated. His contemporaries, we know,
preferred Choerilus; perhaps they were right; for myself, _Malo cum
Platone errare_.
* * * * *
It is generally agreed that in prehistoric times the position of women
among the Greeks was a much higher one than was the case subsequently.
There seems every reason to believe that the social conditions of the
Lesbians and the Dorians and the other nations which did not come under
the influence of the history-writing Ionians, were but the survivals of
what was originally a more or less general state. It is of considerable
assistance for a proper comprehension of the earliest literature, if one
remembers that at the time of its production the enslavement of women had
only comparatively recently taken place.
The reason of the influence of primitive woman over primitive man is
probably not very far to seek. In early times women were regarded with
superstitious reverence[3]—one need only watch a woman making lace,
say, to be able nowadays still to quite appreciate the feeling—and with
natural woman’s wit for a time kept up the illusion, the hard head of man
taking some time to come to maturity. But when man did at last wake to
the fact that he was physically, and therefore, for practical purposes,
generally superior, an inevitable reaction set in, and the history of
early Greece shows women as occupying on the whole a very low position—a
position, too, which became lower still with advancing civilisation.[4]
That the original state of women was not one of slavery is clearly
shown by the early epics. The _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ are pictures of
an earlier state of society than that of the poet who describes them.
A man living in a society in which women were despised, had to deal
with legends belonging to an earlier social condition, in which women
played a prominent part. Traces of this anomaly are easy to find in both
poems. The Trojan war was the work of a woman, but how very little that
woman appears in the _Iliad_! A woman has been managing the affairs of
Odysseus for twenty years in an exemplary fashion; but the hero of the
_Odyssey_ on his return prefers to associate with the swineherd. It is
by this contradiction between the actual experiences of the poet and
the social conditions which he was called upon to depict, that the many
inconsistencies in the treatment of the Epic woman must be explained.
Another excellent illustration of this conflict between the primitive and
the subsequent views of the nature and importance of women is furnished
by the elaborate treatment of the Pandora legend in the _Opera et Dies_
of Hesiod. On the one hand is the early conviction of the power of
women’s influence—it is only by the help of a woman that Zeus can outwit
man: on the other the later conviction that this influence must be for
evil—before Pandora came
ζώεσκεν ἐπὶ χθονὶ φῦλ’ ἀνθρώπων
νόσφιν ἄτερ τε κακῶν καὶ ἄτερ χαλεποῖο πόνοιο. (l. 90)
And a like contradiction runs through all the details of the description.
Woman will be man’s ruin, but he cannot fail to love her all the same—
τοῖς δ’ἐγὼ ἀντὶ πυρὸς δώσω κακὸν ᾧ κεν ἅπαντες
τέρπωνται κατὰ θυμὸν ἑὸν κακὸν ἀμφαγαπῶντες. (l. 57)
Woman will gain man’s heart by her beauty, which is like that of the
immortals—
ἀθανάταις δὲ θεαῖς εἰς ὦπα ἐΐσκειν
παρθενικῆς καλὸν εἶδος ἐπήρατον (l. 62),
by her skill and by her charm; it is but as an afterthought that the poet
adds—
ἐν δὲ θέμεν κύνεόν τε νόον καὶ ἐπίκλοπον ἦθος
Ἑρμείαν ἤνωγε διάκτορον ἀργειφόντην. (l. 67)
And, lastly, it is through a woman that trouble comes into the world; but
it is this same woman’s doing that Hope at least is left. It was Pandora
herself that shut down the lid of the casket before Hope had flown; it
was she that preserved this “dream of waking hours” for mankind.[5]
But if we pass from the general condition of women, as depicted in
Homer or Hesiod, and come to our own more immediate subject, it must be
admitted that neither in the prehistoric legends, nor in their subsequent
development, is there any trace whatever of a romantic sentiment existing
between men and women to be found. Considering the important position
occupied by women in these poems, the absence of the love element is most
remarkable.
The insignificant part played by Briseis has always struck those who
have wished to regard the _Iliad_ as an Achilleis, of which she is the
heroine; nor can Agamemnon’s love for the daughter of Chryses be said to
go very deep. He is distressed at losing her, no doubt, but the loss is
far from irremediable. He evidently agrees with Antigone, πόσις ἄν μοι
κατθανόντος ἄλλος ἦν.
Paris again had originally been a celebrated warrior, and it was to
this that he owed his position and his name. But his love for Helen,
instead of inspiring him, seems to have had the very opposite effect. One
exception there is, no doubt, to all this—the relation between Hector
and Andromache. But the relation between Hector and Andromache (as
illustrated by _Iliad_ vi. 392, _seqq._) is unparalleled in all Greek
literature, and it is not, perhaps, without significance that they are
Trojans and not Greeks. How great was the impression that they made is
visible in the way in which the later literature cites Andromache rather
than any Greek woman as the ideal of a wife. At the same time, how little
really sympathetic to the Greek of the period was this wonderful and
unique passage is sufficiently shown by this very fact, that no attempt
was ever made to imitate or develop it. It may sound strange to say so,
but in all probability we to-day understand Andromache better than did
the Greeks for whom she was created; better, too, perhaps than did her
creator himself.
In the _Odyssey_, well nigh the entire action is in the hands of women.
What with Athene and Leucothea, Circe and Calypso, Nausicaa and Penelope,
Odysseus himself hardly comes to the fore at all; and yet it cannot be
said that anywhere from beginning to end is there so much as a suggestion
of a love-motive.
Nausicaa is always regarded as a charming type of woman, but, after all,
how one naturally thinks of her is as a charming type of washerwoman.
Penelope again is merely the ideal housekeeper: she longs for the return
of her husband, no doubt, but what really grieves her about the suitors
is not their suggestions as to his death, but the quantity of pork they
eat.
As for any idea that her devotion requires similar constancy on the part
of Odysseus, it is not so much as suggested. The _Odyssey_ opens, it is
true, with its hero longing to see even the smoke of his home rising in
the air; but it must be remembered that he has been spending seven years
alone with Calypso on a desert island, which for a man of his tastes was
doubtless exceedingly tedious. There is no reason to suppose that he did
not enjoy the first year or so of his stay quite as much as his visit to
Circe or Aeolus.
An examination of other Greek myths and legends that have any claim to
antiquity will furnish a very similar result. Whether in those myths
of gods and heroes which found their way into literature from its
beginning, or in those local legends which, though first appearing in
the Alexandrian writers, are evidently in reality much older, wherever
the antiquity of the story can be proved, two characteristics are very
noticeable. The first is the importance of women as the originators
of the action; the second is the absence of the romantic element. The
capabilities of women are thoroughly recognised, though the tendency of
the time is to describe their influence as for evil rather than as for
good; their importance is everywhere admitted: but that a man should be
really or seriously in love with a woman is a thing unknown.
This is certainly at first sight a strange anomaly, and yet it is,
perhaps, capable of explanation. The developer of the myth could not fail
to be confronted by a great contradiction—the traditional importance of
women and their actual condition of repression. He saw in the stories
the women, like Medea or Ariadne, profoundly influencing the career of
their lovers, while the men, like Jason or Theseus, stood helplessly and
more or less apathetically on one side. The converse of such positions
he naturally did not find. His surroundings forbade his drawing the true
deduction, that the stories were intended to illustrate the helplessness
of men without a woman to direct them; he drew therefore the contrary
deduction, that the dignity and superiority of man prevented him from
taking an active interest in any matter where a woman was concerned. From
this deduction, combined with all that was known of the emotional and
passionate character of feminine nature, there followed that view of the
relation between man and woman which is so noticeable in all the myths
and legends as we find them in literature. A woman may be desperately in
love with a man, but the converse is impossible.[6] Love may lead women
to humiliation, to treachery, to crime, and to suicide, but never, except
under the most extraordinary circumstances, men.[7]
The most cursory examination of the ordinary and most familiar Greek
legends will sufficiently illustrate this.
Ἐκ Διὸς ἀρχώμεσθα. Of the many amours of Zeus, the only one of at all a
permanent character, the only one which he thought it worth his while to
legalise, was that for Ganymede.[8] His treatment of Minos, again, was
very different from that which any of his female friends received.[9]
The goddesses suffer for their indiscretions, never the gods. Aphrodite’s
pathetic confession to Anchises,[10] or her agony for Adonis, the
helpless devotion of Luna to Endymion, or of Aurora to Tithonus, can find
no parallels among the stories of the gods. Love may drive Apollo to tend
cattle, but it is love for Admetus.
In the lower stratum of humanity, the treachery of Medea or Ariadne, the
story of Scylla[11] with its dozen variants, the guilt of Stheneboea, of
Myrrha, of Pasiphae, the deaths of Byblis or Phyllis,[12] are but a few
of the more obvious examples.
The idea that a man could be subject to such passions is not to be found
till much later in the history of the legends. The original version of
the story makes Eriphanis follow Menalcas through the forest and die
for his disdain;[13] that Menalcas should afterwards die of love for
Euhippe is an addition by Hermesianax.[14] In the old legend, Daphnis is
the companion of Artemis, and the nymph who loves him seeks him in vain
by every fountain and by every grove;[15] it is Sositheus who tells of
his search for his lost Pimplea,[16] and Alexander Aetolus, or whoever
Tityrus may be, who sets him wandering over the mountains after Xenea.[17]
A good commentary on all this is furnished by the stories selected,
apparently more or less at random, by Parthenius in his Περὶ Ἐρωτικῶν
Παθημάτων, and an examination of this work (dedicated to the Roman
Cornelius Gallus) may serve to show how tenaciously the original idea of
the relative positions of men and women retained its hold even among the
“romantic” Alexandrians.
The stories narrated by Parthenius number 36 in all.
In three cases, those of Leucophrye (5), Peisidice (21), and Nanis (22),
love induces women to betray their country to the enemy; in each case the
suggestion of treachery is made by them. In one case a man, Diognetus
(9), is guilty of similar treachery, but here he is trapped into it by
an oath to his lady to do whatever she asks him—an oath which he swears
without thinking what it may imply; and, besides, he betrays, not his own
countrymen, but merely his allies.
Of other sorts of treachery there is enough and to spare, and always
attributed to the woman. Penelope (3), out of jealousy, induces Odysseus
to kill his son Euryalus; Erippe (8), owing to her love for a barbarian,
plots against her husband’s life; Cleoboea (14) tries to seduce Antheus,
and, failing, murders him.
Where a man is led by love to any unnatural crime, it is invariably
excused as being the result of temporary insanity or the vengeance of
some deity. Leucippus (5) falls in love with his sister κατὰ μῆνιν
Ἀφροδίτης; for Byblis (11) no such excuse is alleged. Clymenus (13)
violates Harpalyce διὰ τὸ ἔκφρων εἶναι; Orion, Hero (20) ὑπὸ μέθης
ἔκφρων; Assaon’s love for his daughter Niobe (33) is a punishment from
Leto; Dimoetes’ love for a corpse (31) is brought on by a curse. The sins
of Neaera (18) and Periander’s mother (17) have no such palliative. The
unique case in which Alcinoe (27) is driven κατὰ μῆνιν Ἀθήνης to elope
with a stranger (as a punishment for sweating her sempstress) is derived
from Moero, who would naturally regard women from a peculiar point of
view.
Lastly, Rhesus (36) and Leucippus (15) are, it is true, induced,
like Eriphanis, to follow the objects of their affection into the
hunting-field, but in each case their devotion is very promptly rewarded.
The foregoing examination of the myths and legends of early Greece has
led to certain definite results; but the importance of these results
has been in many cases discounted by the impossibility of assigning any
even approximate date to the myth or legend from which they have been
drawn. Even if, in the case of any given legend, one could determine
with certainty the occasion of its first appearance in literature, one
would in reality be very little nearer determining the date of the
legend itself. To the stories in Homer everyone is willing to allow a
respectable antiquity; but who can say how long the story of Phaedra had
been current at Troezen before Sophocles adopted it? It is satisfactory
therefore to be able to leave this doubtful ground, and come to something
more definite, in the shape of the actual words of the subjective lyric
writers, who belong to the second stage of Greek literature.
It is, perhaps, generally agreed that romantic love-poetry was not
produced by the early Greek lyric writers. What is less generally
appreciated is the fact that these writers, at any rate before the time
of Anacreon, wrote practically no love-poetry (addressed to women) at
all.[18] So little indeed has this fact or its meaning been understood,
that not a few passages in the fragments of these writers have been
misinterpreted or strained; but really, if one comes to think of it, this
absence of love-poetry is quite capable of explanation. The subjective
lyric literature of early Greece, which extends roughly over the seventh
and sixth centuries, and lasts on, in a desultory sort of way, into
the fifth, is chiefly Ionian, and introduces one to a very different
state of society from that of the heroic age. The actual social and
intellectual position of women is, in the main, a very low one; and in
other respects also the place which they occupy in the interests of
men is very insignificant. But this is not all. The ideal woman of the
time is not one to whom love-poetry could be addressed. The Greek of
this period looked upon a woman as an instrument of pleasure, and as a
means of creating a family, nothing more. The comparison of marriage to
cattle-breeding sounds quite natural.[19] Now such feelings as these can
neither of them provide the material for love-poetry of even the most
rudimentary kind.[20]
The former of these two ideals we shall have frequent opportunities
of encountering in the next few pages. A striking commentary on the
latter, and, of course, more general one, is furnished by that important
document for the early history of women in Greece, the “satire” of
Simonides. If one examines the types of women that Simonides describes,
and the objections that he urges against them, and compares these with
the types one encounters in Juvenal, for instance, a noteworthy fact
at once becomes apparent. The faults which Simonides blames, as well
as the virtues he somewhat grudgingly commends, are simply those which
concern woman as a housekeeper; those faults and vices which provoke the
indignation of Juvenal are but lightly touched upon, or not mentioned at
all. One woman is slovenly, another talks her husband’s head off, another
is always eating, another is a thief, another is too fine a lady to do
any cooking or sweeping; and the only three definite virtues of the woman
“like a bee” are, that her husband’s income increases, that her children
are satisfactory, and that she does not waste her time gossiping with the
neighbours.
Indeed, the famous lines (_Fr._ 6)—
γυναικὸς οὐδὲν χρῆμ’ ἀνὴρ ληΐζεται
ἐσθλῆς ἄμεινον οὐδὲ ῥίγιον κακῆς,
might almost be translated, “There is nothing better in the world than a
good cook, and nothing worse than a bad one.”[21]
Simonides grumbles a great deal, and thinks most women a great nuisance;
that a woman could be more than a nuisance, or, if God were good,
possibly a convenience, does not enter his head.
A century and a half later we find little change. Phocylides divides
woman into four types: three bad—the flirt, the slattern, and the shrew;
one good, the efficient housekeeper.[22] Another hundred years later the
ideal of a wife is still unchanged.[23]
There was little reason, then, for these Greeks to address love-poetry to
their women, or, indeed, to sing of “love,” otherwise than in its purely
animal aspect, at all. It remains to convince oneself, by an examination
of what remains of their works, that they actually did not. It is, of
course, a very general opinion that Archilochus, the earliest lyric poet
about whom we know anything of moment, addressed love-poetry to a woman,
Neobule.
This view rests mainly on two fragments (_Fr._ 84, 103), which it is
customary to consider as having been addressed by the poet to his lady at
an early stage of their acquaintance, or as being, perhaps, recollections
of this happy state.[24] Where all is uncertain, one does not like to
speak with confidence, but there really seems to be no adequate reason
for supposing that they are anything of the kind. There is nothing,
whatever in _Fr._ 84
δύστηνος ἔγκειμαι πόθῳ
ἄψυχος, χαλεπῇσι θεῶν ὀδύνῃσιν ἕκητι
πεπαρμένος δι’ ὀστέων,
to prove that it was addressed to a woman, or, indeed, referred to one at
all. It is at least as probable that it was addressed to the same person
as _Fr._ 85
ἀλλά μ’ ὁ λυσιμελής, ὦ ’ταῖρε, δάμναται πόθος,
or someone similar.[25] _Fr._ 103 again must be taken in conjunction with
those that go before and those that follow it. The whole scene described
in these fragments[26] is very suggestive of the story in Proverbs vii.
6 _seqq._ A lady of mature charms (100) and somewhat doubtful character
(101, 102) receives a youthful visitor, whose feelings are described in
_Fr._ 103
τοῖος γὰρ φιλότητος ἔρως ὑπὸ καρδίην ἐλυσθείς
πολλὴν κατ’ ἀχλὺν ὀμμάτων ἔχευεν
κλέψας ἐκ στηθέων ἀταλὰς φρένας.
The subsequent fragments deal with the arrival of the husband, and the
change to the more rapid metre must have been very effective. This
context, of course, makes it clear that φιλότητος ἔρως means simply
_coitus cupido_, and there is no reason to suppose that this fragment
ever formed part of what could properly be called an erotic passage.[27]
As a matter of fact, all that we know of Archilochus tends to make it
extremely improbable that he addressed love-poetry in any sense of
the word to women. There is no evidence that he addressed any poems
to Neobule (or for that matter to any other woman) except satires. In
these satires we know that he referred to Neobule in terms of the vilest
abuse. There is no evidence in his fragments that he ever referred to
her otherwise. What reason, then, is there to suppose that he did? His
love for her, such as it was, was confessedly purely animal.[28] This
is not the kind of love that finds consolation in reminiscences and
regrets. His pride was hurt, and he determined to take vengeance on the
persons who had offended him. If one of these persons happened to be a
woman, that was just as much a matter of chance as the fact that one of
the enemies of Hipponax was a sculptor. The woman, like the sculptor,
had tried to make the poet ridiculous, and the poet proceeded to have
his revenge by satirising her. The fact that she was a woman may have
given the satires a certain peculiar colouring, but it certainly did not
make them love-poems. Under the circumstances it was not to be expected
that Archilochus should express his feelings in erotic poetry, and, as
a matter of fact, on the present evidence there is no reason to believe
that he did.[29]
The claims of Alcman in this respect seem at first sight somewhat
stronger.[30] He has been described as ἡγεμὼν ἐρωτικῶν μελῶν;[31]
this has been supposed to mean that he was the first poet who wrote
love-poems, and it has been assumed that these poems were addressed to
women. This is not, however, all so certain as one might at first be
inclined to suppose.
It has been said that Alcman was ἡγεμὼν ἐρωτικῶν μελῶν; but in how far
were these μέλη ἀκόλαστα love-poems as we now understand them? All that
the words of Archytas imply is that Alcman wrote melic poems, of which
“love” was the chief subject. There is nothing whatever to prove that
these μέλη were personal, or addressed to any particular woman; it is a
misuse of words to call them “love-poems,” and then think of them as if
they were what modern love-poems are. As soon as subjective poetry came
to be written at all, it is obvious that the sexual passions must have
appeared in it in some form. This no one would wish to deny. But there is
a great gap between singing of “love” in general, of the pleasures of
κρυπταδίη φιλότης καὶ μείλιχα δῶρα καὶ εὐνή,
and singing of love as existing between two particular persons. It is a
commonplace that every new lover loves as no one has ever done before.
Until a poet speaks of himself in this way, until he emphasises the
individuality of his own particular passion, he cannot be said to write
real love-poetry. And certainly the fragments, at any rate, do not supply
any proof that Alcman ever wrote such love-poetry. He may have been in
love with Megalostrate; as far as we know, he never said so.[32]
Again, it must not be forgotten that Alcman also wrote poems addressed
to boys, and it is at least possible that some of those erotic fragments
which are preserved may have belonged to these.[33]
As for the _Parthenia_, they are not love-poems in any sense of the word.
The poet is merely ὁ τῶν παρθένων ἐπαινέτης τε καὶ σύμβουλος,[34] which
was possible in the happy condition of Spartan society, quite without
anything further being implied.
“Multa tuae, Sparte, miramur iura palaestrae.”
One of these poems was written in old age;[35] perhaps all of them
were.[36] Besides, they celebrate a number of girls indifferently;
love-poems would not do that.[37]
Till Egypt renders up some more Alcman, it will be impossible to prove
that he ever addressed a love-poem to a woman.
Strange as it may perhaps seem, it is almost an equal misuse of words to
call Mimnermus a love-poet. It has so long been customary to regard him
as such, that it is at first hard to realise that, in all probability,
he was never anything of the kind. As a matter of fact, it seems
naturally reasonable to suppose, and there is at any rate nothing in the
fragments to contradict this view, that Mimnermus was, like the other
elegiac writers of his age, purely didactic.[38] The philosophy which
he inculcated differed from that of Tyrtaeus or Solon, no doubt, but it
was none the less a philosophy. Mimnermus argued that, considering the
shortness of life, and especially of youth, it was advisable to devote
one’s self immediately and strenuously to sensual pleasures, before the
power of enjoying them was lost. The argument was quite general. “What is
life without love?” he says; he does not say, “What is life without your
love?”[39] This enunciation of general principles is not love-poetry. As
has already been remarked, no poetry can properly be so described until
the personal element has entered into it, and of this personal element
there is no evidence in the case of Mimnermus.
As for the actual poems themselves, there is no evidence that any of them
were, as is generally tacitly assumed, addressed to Nanno or any other
woman; and indeed, if one considers their nature, one will see that there
is really no reason why they should have been. It is worthy of note, in
the first place, that the only definite evidence of the existence of such
a person as Nanno is that furnished by Hermesianax,[40] and that this
writer’s information as to the early poets was not always very accurate,
is sufficiently shown by what he says of Homer, Sappho, Anacreon, and
others.[41] But granted that the story of the poet’s love for Nanno was
true, that is very far from proving the fact that he addressed his poems
to her. What seemed only natural in the fourth century, was by no means
so in the seventh. But besides this (as it ought to be superfluous to
remark, and probably is not), Hermesianax never states that Mimnermus
did so; he does not even go so far as to say that the latter alluded to
Nanno in his elegies. Hermesianax makes three definite statements about
Mimnermus:—(1) that he invented or utilised the pentameter; (2) that
he was in love with Nanno, and used often (in consequence?) to attend
entertainments; (3) that he suffered from the enmity of Hermobius and
Pherecles. More than this is not to be found in the passage, however
one may emend or explain it. As for the supposition that Mimnermus
gave to his collected elegies the title of Nanno, there is no evidence
of a collection so entitled before the time of Strabo, by which time,
of course, the influence of writers like Hermesianax had long been at
work.[42] In short, there is no evidence whatever to lead one to suppose
that the elegies of Mimnermus were anything but purely impersonal
didactic moralisings on the shortness of youth, and the consequent
advisability of making the best possible use of it.[43] Mimnermus was a
philosopher;[44] to call him a love-poet is a misuse of words. He wrote
exquisite poetry, and his service in developing the forms of art was
unquestionably very valuable, but he brings us very little farther in the
history of the treatment of women in literature.
It is in Anacreon that we find for the first time love-poetry addressed
to women;[45] though one must never forget, as some modern writers seem
inclined to do, that this writer also addressed a number of love-poems
to boys, and that, in fact, these formed the bulk of his work.[46] The
poems addressed to women were many of them, perhaps all, the work of the
poet’s old age,[47] and their general tone is sufficiently indicated by
such fragments as 55, 59, 161, etc.:[48] these two features serve, of
course, to connect Anacreon with his predecessors; at the same time, the
individualisation of this particular emotion, which we find here for the
first time clearly indicated, was obviously a great advance in the art of
the subject. Purely animal emotions, however highly developed or refined,
could never lead to that feeling which we have called the romantic, and
hence the direct importance of Anacreon for our immediate subject is but
small; but the individualisation of these animal emotions was obviously
of inexpressible importance for the development of the literature that
dealt with them. The first essential of art is accurate observation, and
the essence of accurate observation is attention to a definite object.
By appreciating this fact, and concentrating upon a definite object
the general emotions described by Mimnermus and the like, Anacreon
created love-poetry as between man and woman, and thereby created that
form of art in which the romantic feeling, when it arose, found the
readiest means of expression. Thus, though in no sense of the word a
romantic writer, or one who would have been likely to sympathise with
romantic ideas, Anacreon was yet, unconsciously and indirectly, doing an
unquestionable service in preparing the way for the dissemination, if not
for the evolution, of this later feeling; and in so far this γυναικῶν
ἠπερόπευμα deserves, at least, recognition, if not respect.
The last of the personal lyric writers on whom it will be necessary to
dwell is Theognis.
On the general theory that the book of Theognis is a collection of poems
by a number of writers of various dates, scholars have agreed to agree;
on the details of the theory, they seem to have agreed to differ. For
the present purpose, however, these details are unimportant, and it will
be sufficient to assume that, while some of the poems are doubtless
earlier, and others again later, the great bulk of the first book of the
“Theognis” poetry belongs to the first half of the fifth century, while
the second book is considerably later.[49]
It is equally indifferent for us how this heterogeneous collection arose;
whether it was a chrestomathy “for the use of schools,” or whether, as
has been argued with great force, it is in reality a volume of songs to
be sung at social gatherings, and the forerunner of the later collections
of epigrams.[50]
What is of importance for us is that, in any case, whatever theory as
to its origin may be adopted, this book may be taken as presenting on
the whole[51] a collection of those opinions and views of life which
were generally held and generally accepted during the fifth century or
thereabouts; for neither the schoolroom nor the dinner table is exactly
the place where new and startling theories are welcomed.
Looking at this volume, then, as containing a collection of the ordinary
and more or less commonplace views of the time, it is interesting,
though, of course, not really surprising, to find that, while boy-love is
universally acknowledged and forms the subject of not a few of the poems,
women’s love is well-nigh entirely ignored;[52] and where the latter is
mentioned, its sensual side merely is touched upon.[53]
Indeed, all the allusions of any importance to women can be very briefly
dismissed.
In l. 183 _seqq._ marriage is compared to cattle-breeding, the folly of
marrying for money being deprecated as spoiling the breed.
Ll. 257 _seqq._ are possibly the complaint of a woman with an unsuitable
husband, though what is the nature of the objection to him, and indeed
the whole allusion, is not clear.
Ll. 261 _seqq._ appear to deal with the behaviour of a man towards a
woman on some occasion; but, what with the doubtfulness of the reading
and the uncertainty as to whether the lines belong to one poem or two,
the exact sense has never yet been ascertained.[54]
In l. 457 _seqq._ the infidelity of a young wife to an old man is tacitly
assumed. “Girls will have boys.”
Ll. 547 _seq._ express vague disapprobation of dissolute habits.
Ll. 1063 _seqq._ are merely a reiteration of the philosophy of Mimnermus,
the value of which philosophy for the development of love we have already
discussed.
Ll. 1225 _seq._, “Nothing is sweeter ἀγαθῆς γυναικός.” So said also
Simonides, and what he meant we know.
And this is all. The result is truly remarkable in its barrenness.
Perhaps in no other literature would it be possible to find a collection
of short poems on general subjects, of equal length, in which the
relations of men to women are so utterly ignored.
Nor is there anything peculiar or exceptional in this. In the somewhat
similar _Scolia_, absolutely the same is the case. The democrat sings of
Harmodius, the aristocrat of Admetus;[55] the rare allusions that there
are to women are regularly trivial or coarse.[56]
In the choral lyric writers, with whom it will now be necessary to deal,
the character of the evidence to be examined is widely different from
that of the evidence which we have hitherto been considering. The Greek
choral poets were (with one notable exception) hardly ever subjective
in their treatment of erotic matter. The erotic element, such as it is,
consists in these writers almost entirely of erotic legends or myths,
which would seem to have been recounted without special comment on the
part of the poet and, in most cases, without elaborate analysis of the
emotions of the characters introduced. The stories therefore that these
writers tell, rather than the actual words in which they tell them, will
require consideration in the present connection. The subjective lyric
writers were, as we have seen, in the main Ionian. The choral writers, on
the other hand, are in the main Dorian; consequently, one would naturally
expect to find women occupying a more prominent place in their works. And
this is, in fact, also the case. From the very beginning, already we find
stories about women repeated with an interest and an appreciation which
would have startled what one is generally taught to regard as orthodox
Greece. At the same time, however, the true nature of this feature of
choral poetry must not be overlooked. Though the efforts of these writers
to re-awaken interest in women were unquestionably of importance for
the ultimate development of the romantic element in literature, it is
unjustifiable to suppose, as is too commonly done, that these writers
were in themselves “romantic,” or, indeed, that they had any idea of
what romantic feelings are. An examination of their works, as far as we
know them, will show with sufficient clearness that in its essence their
view of women differed little, if at all, from that of their Ionian
predecessors and contemporaries. They thought more about women, perhaps;
they did not think more of them.
A case in point is Stesichorus. In spite of the important part that
female characters play in his poems, a result, no doubt, of his Boeotian
connections and his freedom from Ionian influences, the poet’s way of
regarding women is practically identical with that which we have already
encountered among the Ionians. In the first place, Stesichorus appears
always, professedly at least, as a misogynist. The legends in which he
delights are those which relate the ruin caused by women’s influence.
Besides the famous _Ilii Persis_, one need but mention the stories of
Scylla, of Eriphyle, of Clytemnestra (in the _Oresteia_).[57] Even in the
story of Artemis and Actaeon, he will not admit that the vengeance of the
goddess was due to those feelings of outraged propriety to which it was
generally ascribed.[58] As for his palinode of Helen, composed late in
life, he was evidently induced to write it by strong private pressure of
some kind, perhaps on the part of “Helen of Himera”;[59] but how isolated
an expression of opinion this was, and how very unusual were the whole
circumstances of the case, is shown by the great interest which the poem
excited in antiquity.
In the more purely erotic legends again, it is striking how he conforms
to those views as to the relative positions of men and women which, as
has been already pointed out, were current in all Greek erotic stories of
early date; the woman falls in love with the man, never, apparently, the
reverse. Striking examples are the stories of Calyce, and probably also
of Scylla; another, perhaps, that of Daphnis;[60] that of Rhadina seems
at first sight a contradiction, but it must be noticed that Strabo (viii.
347) gives no information as to how the intrigue first began.[61]
That in addition to these poems concerned with women, Stesichorus
interested himself also in the treatment of love in its more
characteristically Greek aspect, may be gathered from Athenaeus xiii.
601 A, though, perhaps, no fragment dealing with this subject is
preserved.[62] This side is, however, very strongly developed in his
fellow-countryman Ibycus, who is again a most interesting figure in the
history of the artistic development of Greek love.
Ibycus would seem to have been the first of the choral lyric poets who
made use of this form of art for the expression of personal emotion.
All the important fragments of him that remain seem to have belonged to
passages of this kind. Two at least we know of as being addressed to
particular individuals. Those who have been following the development of
Greek feeling on this matter will not be surprised to find that these
poems were addressed exclusively, as far as we know, to boys. It was a
bold thing to introduce personal feelings at all into these choral odes,
for a certain odour of sanctity was still hanging about them, and the
Greeks had a natural aversion to the public expression of all violent
emotions; but to have introduced anything so entirely sensual as woman’s
love was then felt to be would not have been allowed. If love was to
be tolerated at all, it must be that form of love which was generally
recognised as dignified and ennobling. This amalgamation of ceremonial
and personal poetry does not seem to have been popular or to have found
imitators. The Greeks probably felt, what the modern glee-singer does
not, the absurdity of a whole chorus expressing their undying devotion to
one and the same person; but it is at least a very characteristic fact,
and, for those that will not learn, a very instructive one, that boy-love
was the only form of the passion which it was considered possible to
attempt to treat in this way.
Of Ibycus’ views on women we know little.[63] That he followed the
tendencies of Stesichorus, sometimes rather wildly,[64] and gave
considerable prominence to love stories between women and men, is clear
enough; but there is no evidence to show that these stories of his
were any different in their essential characteristics to those of his
predecessor.
The other choral lyric poets have remarkably little to say on this
subject.
Myrtis’ story of Ochne is but one of the usual type, showing to what
_spretae iniuria formae_ may lead a woman. If Corinna tells of the
heroism of the daughters of Orion, it is, after all, only what one would
expect occasionally from a poetess.
Neither Pindar nor Simonides has anything of interest to say about women.
For Bacchylides the climax of the charms of peace is
παιδικοί θ’ ὕμνοι φλέγονται.[65]
Among the dithyrambic writers, Licymnius tells the story of the treachery
of Nanis, but the sort of legends which seem to interest him more are
those of Hypnus and Endymion, Hymenaeus and Argynnus, and the like.
The same was perhaps true of Cydias. But one interesting figure these
writers do supply; that is the Cyclops of Philoxenus. A good deal has
been written about this “romantic” conception, and it has been generally
considered as a proof of how strongly the romantic feeling must have been
already developed that it was possible to represent Polyphemus as in
love with Galatea. Those who have considered what has already been said
may perhaps be tempted to come to a somewhat different conclusion. The
barbarous and boorish Polyphemus spends his time in singing of his love
to Galatea, because no one who was not a barbarian and a boor would be
such a fool as to waste so much time about a woman. This view spoils the
idyllic charm of the picture rather, perhaps, but it may be the true one
for all that.[66]
In the foregoing examination of the remains of the lyric writers, it was
always necessary to regard, not only the date of each writer, but also
the country to which he belonged; for, as we have already had occasion
to notice, the social position of women differed widely in different
parts of Greece, and this fact could not fail to be, to a certain extent,
reflected in such literature as dealt with them.
In examining the work of the tragedians, this necessity will no longer
be present. Early Greek tragedy is entirely under the influence of
Athens. The only tragedians whose works have been to any considerable
extent preserved were Athenians; and such fragments of the non-Athenian
dramatists as have survived do not in any way lead one to suppose that
their work was in any essential characteristic different from that of
their Athenian contemporaries.
At Athens the social position of women was, on the whole, a very low
one, and consequently the relations between men and women were not on a
particularly high level. The men cared very little either for or about
the women, and there is nothing therefore surprising in the generally
admitted fact that the love-element as between the sexes plays but a very
unimportant part in the early tragedians. Aeschylus seems well-nigh to
have ignored it; in Sophocles it played a prominent part in but two, or
at most three tragedies;[67] even in Euripides the proportion of plays in
which love of any sort supplies the main interest is very small.[68]
But one question may very naturally be asked. Assuming that the way
of regarding women at Athens rendered it difficult or impossible to
interest an Athenian audience with a love-story, as between man and
woman, why should not the tragedians have made more use of the many
stories that told of the love of men for men? If, it may be argued, this
form of love was really so important an element in the life of the time,
if it really occupied that place in the hearts of men as a whole that is
now occupied by the love of women, why did Aeschylus and Sophocles only
devote a couple of plays between them to its treatment?[69] Sophocles, at
any rate, ought to have understood all about it.
The answer is probably to be found in the fact that the passion of love,
in any shape or form, is foreign to the true spirit of Greek tragedy. The
taste of the Greeks, refined in this as in most other things, considered
love as essentially unfitted for the stage. That two people should stand
up and make love to one another with a crowd looking on was, to the
Greek mind, essentially unfitting. Love was an emotion which concerned
individuals; it was an emotion which ought to be controlled in public,
and only find expression in private.
The whole history of Greek poetry is so much commentary on this one fact.
The love-poems of Sappho or Anacreon, just like the later love-poems of
Asclepiades or Poseidippus, were meant to be sung by a single singer
to a small and select audience. In the choral poetry, which required
a number of performers, and was listened to by a large audience, the
personal love-element is well-nigh non-existent. The attempt of Ibycus to
introduce it, and his failure to find imitators, we have already noticed.
And in the choral poetry sung in honour of Dionysus, from which tragedy
had its rise, it is obvious, when one considers the intimate connection
between the rites of Dionysus and Artemis, and the ascetic principle
underlying their worship, how especially out of place a love-element
would have been.
The fact, therefore, that love as between man and man does not play any
very prominent part in the early tragedies, must simply be explained by
the Greek dislike to the public display of violent private emotions.
It took a long time to overcome this old-fashioned prejudice, and
establish the love-element as an integral part of tragedy; and it is not
uninstructive to observe how the movement began. The earliest love-story
admitted on the Greek stage was the story of Achilles and Patroclus.[70]
But before entering upon the more detailed examination of the relations
between the sexes, as illustrated by the Attic tragedians, it is
necessary once more to call attention to, and warn against, a very
fertile source of confusion.
It is above all things necessary that the reader should carefully
distinguish between two very different things, two very different ways of
regarding women, which are not uncommonly confused—woman as an object of
interest, and woman as an object of love. As objects of interest, we find
the female characters of the tragedians steadily developing throughout
the fifth century; as objects of love, we do not find them develop at
all. The relations between women and men are, in reality, as far from
the modern in the last plays of Euripides as in the first of Aeschylus.
Towards the close of the century, a very considerable proportion of the
tragedies concern themselves with studies of female character in its
various phases; the power of women for good and evil (especially the
latter) is very generally acknowledged; their passions and their emotions
are carefully analysed and elaborately discussed; and yet in all this
analysis and discussion the love-element, in any modern sense of the
word, plays no part whatever. By this time, woman at Athens held an
important place in the mind of man; as yet she held no place in his heart
at all. From end to end of the three great tragedians, there can hardly a
single passage be quoted which so much as suggests the possibility of an
unselfish and unsensual attachment between man and woman, playing at all
an important part in the life of either; and this important fact it will
be the object of the following pages to make clear.
Aeschylus, as has been said often enough, never brought on the stage a
woman “in love.”[71] That he should never have brought on the stage a man
in such a condition went of course without saying; even Euripides was
never accused of that. Indeed, Aeschylus’ characters do not think much
of women at all. That girls should not misbehave, if left to themselves,
even their own father finds it hard to believe;[72] that in any sort of
difficulty they should be a hindrance rather than a help, is only what
one would expect.[73] Women are certainly not worth fighting about;[74]
what really acquits Orestes is the fact that, after all, it was only a
woman he killed.[75]
An apparent exception to all this is of course Clytemnestra. Why should
Aeschylus, having so poor an opinion of women, have given so prominent a
place to Clytemnestra in the murder of Agamemnon? The answer is doubtless
to be found in the very significant fact that between Homer and Aeschylus
the story had been treated by Stesichorus, to whom the prominence of
Clytemnestra was beyond all reasonable doubt due.[76]
Aeschylus, then, has little enough to say about women; but in Sophocles
there is fortunately somewhat more to be found; indeed, it is probably
the female characters of Sophocles that are most generally appreciated by
modern readers. And yet, for all the great part played by women in the
Sophoclean drama, the part played by women’s love is wonderfully small.
Take a woman like Deianira; the man who can listen to her without feeling
a positive shock must be more in sympathy with Athens than I ever wish to
be.
She guesses the truth from Lichas about Heracles and Iole (_Trach._
436), and begs him to tell her all, for she is no coward, nor yet is
she the sort of woman who would refuse to admit a husband’s right to an
occasional infidelity.
οὐ γὰρ γυναικὶ τοὺς λόγους ἐρεῖς κακῇ,
οὐδ’ ἥτις οὐ κάτοιδε τἀνθρώπων, ὅτι
χαίρειν πέφυκεν οὐχὶ τοῖς αὐτοῖς ἀεί.
“Love is irresistible,” she says; “if I were to blame my husband or this
woman for falling victims to it, I should be a fool. Do not be afraid
to tell me all. Has not Heracles often done this sort of thing before
without making me jealous? Why should he make me jealous now? And as for
the woman, why, I can only pity her, when I see how her beauty has made
her lose her home and her home comforts, for which, _expertae crede_, the
love of Heracles is hardly a sufficient compensation.”
ᾤκτειρα δὴ μάλιστα προσβλέψασ’ ὅτι
τὸ κάλλος αὐτῆς τὸν βίον διώλεσεν.[77]
When this is Sophocles’ ideal wife, one can hardly wonder that Haemon
owes the only word of sympathy he gets from his Antigone to the
editors.[78]
But even Deianira has her human moments, and in one of these she utters
that wonderful lament of hers for the joys of her lost maidenhood, and
the sorrows of her married life (_Trach._ 144 _seqq._), a passage which
may well be compared with one from the _Tereus_. (_Fr._ 524, Nauck). Both
these dwell sympathetically on the slavery of married life, and almost
make one think at first sight that the poet must have felt what a mockery
his “ideal wife” really was. But a little further examination will show
clearly enough that Sophocles is not expressing his own views in either
of these two passages. The protest in the _Tereus_ is merely the direct
outcome of the decidedly exceptional circumstances in which Procne finds
herself—a woman who has just cooked her only son is hardly likely to have
unprejudiced views on matrimony—and as such it is not meant to be more
than one of those outcries against irresistible destiny, which one may
pity if one likes, or even pardon, but which one cannot pretend to treat
seriously. For a girl to complain of having to marry was as reasonable as
for a man to complain of having to die.
τί ταῦτα δεῖ
στένειν, ἅπερ δεῖ κατὰ φύσιν διεκπερᾶν;
As for the passage from the _Trachiniae_, that seems to be simply an echo
from Sappho, and Sappho’s views on marriage were naturally different from
those of Sophocles.[79]
To suppose from these passages that Sophocles saw anything inappropriate
in the existing conditions of married life, or that he would have
welcomed any change in them, is an unjustifiable inference.[80]
But the one play of Sophocles which is generally considered to be of
supreme importance for this particular subject is the _Phaedra_. This
play, which is supposed to have been the model for the _Hippolytus_ of
Euripides, is generally looked upon as the first “love-tragedy” of the
Greeks. But was it a “love-tragedy” at all, in any sense in which the
words are now understood? To judge by analogy, there is every reason to
suppose that it was not.
The fragments unfortunately prove little, for no very important ones are
preserved, and the one or two of them that do speak of love, merely speak
of it in the regular Sophoclean way, not as a human passion, but as an
unavoidable kind of disease, something like measles or distemper.[81]
But in spite of the paucity of the fragments, the main principle on
which the legend (of which we have already spoken)[82] was treated,
is sufficiently clear; and this principle is such as is, I venture
to submit, incompatible with the presence in the play of any real
love-element.
Phaedra’s love is not passion but madness, it is not an emotion but a
disease. Aphrodite treats her in exactly the same way as Athene treats
Ajax. Her love is so entirely outside her control, it is so entirely the
result of external influences, that while one can perhaps pity her, one
certainly cannot sympathise with her, for the simple reason that her
misfortune is entirely outside human experience. She loves Hippolytus,
as Oedipus kills Laius, for no earthly reason except that the story said
the god made her do so. The Phaedra of Sophocles, like the Clytemnestra
of Aeschylus, is made an instrument of divine vengeance for reasons which
do not concern her personally in the least; one pities her, not as an
unhappy lover, but as the victim of fate. She is no longer a human being
influenced by human emotions; she is simply a tool in the hands of a
relentless deity. In other words, she is never in love with Hippolytus at
all, in any commonly-accepted sense of the term.
And thus it must be sufficiently clear to anyone who is able to get rid
of preconceived ideas on the matter, that the _Phaedra_ was in reality
no more “romantic” than the _Trachiniae_ or the _Antigone_. Like the
rest of the plays of Sophocles, it merely drew the usual picture of the
gods playing shove-halfpenny with human souls; the fact that Aphrodite
for once took a hand in the game gave it on this occasion a peculiar
character of its own, but of anything in any way resembling a modern
love-element there is no more trace here than there is anywhere else.[83]
But what really affords a more conclusive proof than any other of how
utterly anything of the nature of modern love between man and woman was
unknown to Sophocles, is the remarkable prominence given in his plays
to the affection between brother and sister.[84] The relations between
Electra and Orestes, or Antigone and Polynices, are absolutely those
of modern lovers; but Sophocles could not conceive of such relations
as existing between people whom he would have called “lovers,” and,
therefore, he had to think of the parties to them as brother and sister.
He wished to draw a picture of pure, noble, and unselfish devotion
existing between man and woman; the only conditions under which such a
thing seemed to him possible were that the man and the woman should be
close blood relations.
There are those who complain of the indifference of Electra to Pylades,
or of Antigone to Haemon, and think that a little love infused into
these heroines would make them more human. These people have overlooked
the fact that Electra and Antigone are in reality quite as much in love
as ever woman was; but they are in love with their brothers. They did
not know it perhaps; Sophocles did not know it; but the fact remains.
Antigone despises love—what she and her audience thought was love.
Between Polynices and Haemon there is never a moment’s hesitation; almost
her last words are an exclamation of the bitterest contempt for marriage:
“If my husband had died, I could have married another; if he had failed
to get me children, I could have committed adultery; but—my brother is
dead!”[85]
And yet, Antigone comes far nearer to a modern lover than Phaedra ever
does.
This is a fact of the greatest importance in the present connection,
and one that cannot be too much emphasised. The relation of the sexes
was such among the early Greeks that a pure love between man and woman
seemed to them a sheer impossibility, and yet their instinct told them
that pure love was not really an impossible thing. The ways in which the
difficulty was surmounted were various. Of the love of man for man and of
woman for woman we have already spoken; in Sophocles a third alternative
is suggested. The lovers are made man and woman, but the possibility of
sensuality is first removed by making them brother and sister. A woman
who loves a man may love him purely, says Sophocles, if she is in such a
position that she cannot love him otherwise.[86]
In the first two of the Athenian dramatists there are then, as we have
seen, practically no traces whatever to be found of a love-element in any
real sense of the term. But this, it may be said, is nothing wonderful.
This everyone will admit. For the love-element one looks to Euripides. In
the following examination of Euripides, I hope to show that not only is
love, in any modern sense, quite unknown to his characters, but also that
the whole “romantic” element of his plays, on which it is the custom to
lay such stress, is much less pronounced than is generally supposed; in
other words, that his men take really very little interest in his women.
But before discussing what Euripides did not do, it is well to have a
clear conception of what he did do; for he did do a great deal. The
great service of Euripides to art was that he emphasised unmistakably
the importance of women. He seems to have been the first emphatically
to enunciate that doctrine of _cherchez la femme_, which has been the
groundwork of all modern art. He was not the first man to discover it;
the men who made the story of Troy knew it as well as he did; but he was
the first, as far as we know, consciously to adopt it as an artistic
canon. He was the first deliberately to maintain that the highest
artistic effects were to be obtained by the contrast of the sexes. The
women of the earlier tragedians, as far as they are of any interest,
are merely women, as it were by accident; they are men in everything
but their dress. The women of Euripides, however unpleasant they may
be, are always intensely feminine. The emphasis which Euripides laid on
the feminine as opposed to the masculine element is at once his chief
characteristic and his chief merit.
The ways in which he emphasises the importance of women are various.
Everyone knows the stress he lays on their power of doing harm; the
“misogyny” of Euripides need hardly be illustrated here.[87] At the same
time, he is fully aware of their power for good.[88] He dwells on their
cleverness repeatedly: “If supremacy were a matter of brains, and not
of brute force, men would not have a chance.”[89] He is convinced of
their heroism: Iphigeneia goes to her death with far more dignity than
Antigone. He is even convinced, in a way that not all his successors have
been, of their reasonableness: there are few men who could discuss their
own deaths as calmly and clearly as Phaedra[90] or Polyxena.[91] It would
be easy to multiply instances if there were any need to do so.
All this Euripides did. He made his women powerful, intelligent, heroic,
reasonable. He did not make them loved or loveable. In this Euripides is
well-nigh as old-fashioned as any of his predecessors. In all the extant
plays there is not a single instance of a man in love with a woman;
there is no evidence, except perhaps in one isolated case,[92] of such a
character in any of the plays that have been lost. So far from Euripides
being the poet of love between man and woman, there are numerous
situations in his plays where it seems simply extraordinary to the modern
reader how such obvious opportunities for the introduction of such love
can have been missed or ignored.[93]
A detailed examination of some of the plays will bring this out clearly;
but before proceeding to this, it would be well to observe certain of
the more general features of the Euripidean conception of the relations,
other than social and intellectual, existing between men and women.
The first point to be noticed is that Euripides, too, just like
Sophocles, speaks of love as a sort of irresistible madness or
disease,[94] which seizes on its victims without any particular reason,
and can only be cured or borne by being allowed to have free course.
It is, as I have said before, exactly like measles; the only proper
treatment is to help it as much as you can to “come out,” as then it is
less painful at the time, and less likely to have serious consequences.
Instances of this view are sufficiently numerous. It forms the chief
framework of the _Hippolytus_, and all attempts to interpret the emotions
of that play in accordance with more modern notions, are without success.
The same was still more the case in the _Phoenix_, as Suidas distinctly
implies by his use of the words τῷ υἱῷ ἐπέμηνε τὴν παλλακήν in this
connection.[95] It is enunciated by Jason to Medea in the _Medea_
(526 _seqq._) as a proof that he owes nothing to her, as she was not
responsible for her actions in saving him; by Helen to Menelaus in the
_Troades_ (945 _seqq._) as a perfect excuse for her conduct with Paris.
Now it is just here, one may as well notice at once, that the difference
between Euripides and modern writers, with the Alexandrians at their
head, is so striking. The lovers in Euripides, as far as they are lovers
at all, are carried along by a forcible external impulse, the direction
of which is entirely sensual and entirely selfish. If, or as soon as,
they fail in achieving the gratification of their sensual desires, their
“love” immediately turns to hate. The idea of devotion or self-sacrifice
for the good of the loved person, as distinct from one’s own, is
absolutely unknown. “Love is irresistible,” they say, and, in obedience
to its commands, they sit down to reckon how they can satisfy themselves,
at no matter what cost to the objects of their passion.
Love is irresistible still, one knows, as irresistible now as ever it was
in Greece, but the impulse it gives has a different direction. To put it
perfectly crudely, the Euripidean woman who “falls in love” (it is of
women we are speaking now) thinks first of all, “How can I seduce the man
I love?” The modern woman thinks, “How can I die for him?” This is the
difference between ancient and modern love, and in Euripides the old is
still untouched by the new.[96]
It is this sensual, this well-nigh mechanical view of love which makes
possible that conception of the ideal wife, of which we have already
spoken in the case of Sophocles’ Deianira, and which is so strongly
insisted upon in the Andromache of Euripides.
Andromache regularly appears as the model wife, not only in the play
which bears her name, but also in the _Troades_. Her views on married
life have, therefore, a peculiar weight of their own.
οὐ τὸ κάλλος, ὦ γύναι,
ἀλλ’ ἁρεταὶ τέρπουσι τοὺς ξυνευνέτας,
she explains to the youthful Hermione.[97] “Now the greatest of these
virtues is, to be content with your husband and not to be jealous. You
are jealous of me. What would you do, supposing you were married to a
Thracian king with twenty wives instead of only two? You would murder
them all, I suppose, in your jealousy, _showing thereby how utterly
unbridled was your lust_. I was never jealous; _I used to act as
foster-mother to Hector’s illegitimate children_.
καὶ ταῦτα δρῶσα τἀρετῇ προσηγόμην
πόσιν.
“But you, you are afraid to let a drop of rain fall on your husband’s
head.
μὴ τὴν τεκοῦσαν τῇ φιλανδρίᾳ, γύναι,
ζήτει παρελθεῖν.”
φιλανδρία![98]
This is not irony; it is just sober earnest, the sober earnest morality
of respectable Athens. The view is by no means confined to Andromache.
It is deliberately propounded by Electra to her mother,[99] and Jason
twice taunts Medea with her failure to live up to its level.[100] Indeed,
it may be said to colour, to a certain extent, the whole conception of
married life. For a woman to wish to keep her husband to herself was a
sign that she was at once unreasonable and lascivious.
This doctrine of the absolute subjection of the wife[101] is emphasised
in various ways. That a really respectable wife not only always stays at
home, but also never sees visitors, is more or less of an axiom.[102] To
give a woman her head is dangerous in the last degree, and if you do, you
will probably get murdered for your pains.[103] Suicide for a husband’s
sake is only respectable on the part of a woman,[104] for her husband is
her life.[105]
But where is one to find such a model wife? for marriage is such a
lottery that one ought really to be allowed, if one can afford it, to
have several tickets, in case the first doesn’t turn out well.[106] The
only chance is to marry a woman of good family; in other words, the only
thing worth marrying for is rank.[107] To prefer to marry for love is not
only foolish, but unfair on one’s children.[108]
It is this view of married life, this devotion to an ideal of drudgery
on the part of the woman, and the calm acceptance of such devotion as
a matter of course on the part of the man, which explains such a play
as the _Alcestis_.[109] The woman is devoted to the man, not because
he is himself, but because he is her husband. For the man she does not
care in the least, but for the husband—for the ideal of the family—she
is perfectly ready to die. It is this which at once makes the story
of Alcestis possible, and robs it of half its pathos. Had Alcestis
loved Admetus as a man, she could not but have felt the bitterest
disappointment at his accepting her offer. As it is, she seems to regard
his conduct almost as much as a matter of course as he does.[110]
The brief examination of one further point in the Euripidean view of
women may serve as introduction to the more detailed discussion of the
romantic element in his plays, or, rather, of its absence. Euripides
speaks frequently as if there were a sort of freemasonry existing among
women, which makes one woman always ready to side with another as against
a man. Instances of this are common, especially in the relations between
the heroine and the Chorus, when the latter, as mostly in Euripides,
consists of women.
Thus Medea, when asking the Chorus not to reveal her plans, says—
λέξῃς δὲ μηδὲν τῶν ἐμοὶ δεδογμένων,
εἴπερ φρονεῖς εὖ δεσπόταις γυνή τ’ ἔφυς. (_Med._ 822.)
Similar in spirit is a line from the _Alope_ (_Fr._ 108):
γυνὴ γυναικὶ σύμμαχος πέφυκέ πως,
or l. 329 of the _Helen_:
γυναῖκα γὰρ δὴ συμπονεῖν γυναικὶ χρή.
In this same play, too, Menelaus decides that _his wife_ is the proper
person to go and ask help of Theonoe:
σὸν ἔργον, ὡς γυναικὶ πρόσφορον γυνή. (_Hel._ 830.)
A “romantic” writer might have thought that the prayers of Menelaus
himself would have been more effectual with a lady.[111]
The most important of the extant plays of Euripides is, for the
student of the development of the romantic tendency, undoubtedly the
_Hippolytus_. But, in thinking of this play, the reader must first of
all guard against a very common and, for a modern, very natural mistake.
He must remember that the interest of the piece is intended to centre,
not on Phaedra, but on Hippolytus. The main interest of the plot is the
struggle between asceticism and self-gratification, as personified in the
maiden Artemis and the sensual Aphrodite.[112] Phaedra is only made to
fall in love with Hippolytus in order that he may reject her advances,
and thereby irritate her into working his ruin. As has already been
pointed out, she is dragged into a quarrel which does not concern her,
for a purpose which does not interest her personally in the least.[113]
Bearing this in mind, the reader will be able to understand that
combination of passionate desire and cold-blooded reasoning which marks
the utterances of Phaedra. She has come to the conclusion, she says at
last (l. 391 _seqq._), that love is an irresistible disease; and since
her position as a married woman makes impossible the only means of cure
with which she is acquainted, she decides that, _for the sake of her
husband and children_, she had better die. She will never dishonour her
children, for, next to money, there is nothing so valuable as a good name.
To this the Nurse replies (l. 433 _seqq._) that of course love is
irresistible, and there is only one way to cure it; but she points out
that this way may perfectly well be adopted. The fact that Phaedra is
married need not be any obstacle, for husbands are used to seeing more
than they say.
“ἀλλ’, ὦ φίλη παῖ, λῆγε μὲν κακῶν φρενῶν,
λῆξον δ’ _ὑβρίζουσ’_: οὐ γὰρ ἄλλο πλὴν ὕβρις
τάδ’ ἐστὶ, κρείσσω δαιμόνων εἶναι θέλειν,
τόλμα δ’ ἐρῶσα· θεὸς ἐβονλήθη τάδε.”
“Leave the matter to me, and if women can’t effect a cure, perhaps men
can.”
Phaedra protests. The Nurse answers with a little very natural impatience
(l. 490)
“τί σεμνομυθεῖς; οὐ λόγων εὐσχημόνων
δεῖ σ’, ἀλλὰ τἀνδρός.”
Phaedra admits this, but insists that it would be more respectable to
die. The Nurse, however, persuades her to try a love-potion first, and
with this excuse leaves her to look for Hippolytus. Hippolytus, as
one knows, rejects the Nurse’s proposals, and Phaedra takes refuge in
suicide, making, as she dies, one last desperate attempt to save her own
good name at the expense of the man she is supposed to love (l. 715).
This, then, is the story of Phaedra. Where in all this is there a trace
of what we now call love? Where is there a single expression of affection
for Hippolytus, a single expression to show that she thinks of him
otherwise than of one who has done her a great and irretrievable injury?
She seems to think of him as one would think of a man from whom one had
caught the cholera. “Love is all bitterness,” she says (l. 349); “and he
is the cause.” The catastrophe comes, and she walks off quietly to murder
him,
“ὥστ’ εὐκλεᾶ μὲν παισὶ προσθεῖναι βίον,
αὐτή τ’ ὄνασθαι πρὸς τὰ νῦν πεπτωκότα.”
If this is love, the world must be a poorer place than I gave it credit
for.
Then follows the great argument between Hippolytus and his father, which
to the Athenians was doubtless the chief point of the play. On the speech
of Theseus we need not dwell, though it is perhaps just worth noticing
the way in which he enunciates, as a sort of great discovery which his
own experience and observation have enabled him to make, the theory that
it is possible for the initiative in a criminal liaison to come from the
side of the man (l. 966 _seqq._).
The answer of Hippolytus, however, is well worth study. For the first
24 of his 52 lines he describes in general terms his own blameless
character, and it is only at the 25th that he condescends to discuss
the particular incident. “But you do not perhaps believe all this
about my chastity,” he says (l. 1007); “but do tell me, then, what was
the temptation in this particular instance? Was this woman’s body so
especially beautiful? (1½ lines.) Or did I wish by my conduct to become
your heir? (2½ lines.) Or to become king? (3 lines.) Surely you know my
only interest is in athletics.” (5 lines.) Then, having finished the
arguments which he is able to bring forward, he proceeds to swear, and so
concludes. In other words, in a speech of 52 lines, the suggestion that
he might have been in love with Phaedra, even in the most rudimentary
sense of the words, is contemptuously dismissed in a line and a half, and
no one seems to think that this part of the subject ought to have been
treated at greater length. Now this one fact seems to me in itself almost
a sufficient proof that “romantic” ideas, even as they were understood at
the end of the fourth century, were utterly foreign to Euripides.[114]
To come to another play. There are probably few things in all literature
so strange, not to say comic, to modern ideas, as the relations between
Achilles and Iphigeneia in the _Iphigeneia in Aulis_.
Clytemnestra has been trapped into bringing her daughter to Aulis, on
promise of marriage with Achilles, and when, in the scene which begins
at l. 801, she discovers the truth, she appeals to him for protection.
Achilles, “the nearest approach to a modern gentleman of all the Greek
tragic characters,”[115] replies as follows (l. 919 _seqq._):
“I am a person of the highest breeding, and therefore you may trust me
to give you the correct answer under the circumstances. Your daughter,
having been betrothed to me, shall not be killed; it would reflect
discredit on me if she were, and that I cannot permit. No one shall so
much as touch the hem of her garment. _It is not, of course, for her
sake that I undertake to do this_, but because I consider that Agamemnon
has treated me shamefully. He used my name to trap you into coming here
without asking my consent; _of course I should have allowed him to use it
if he had asked me_, for I always put patriotism before everything; but
he did not ask me. I feel grossly insulted, and he will touch Iphigeneia
at his peril.”
“Your sentiments, Achilles,” remarks the Chorus, “are worthy alike of you
and of your divine descent.”
“How can I thank you enough,” replies Clytemnestra, “for all the trouble
you have promised to take in this matter, which cannot interest you
personally in the least?”
There is a moment’s pause; then she suggests timidly, “But would you like
the girl to come to you herself?”
“God forbid!” exclaims Achilles with horror. “How can you suggest
anything so improper?” Then after a little he adds, “You must first of
all go and argue the case with Agamemnon.”
“Why that?” asks Clytemnestra. “There is no chance there.”
“Perhaps not,” he answers, “but still I wish you to try; _for I should
very much prefer, if possible, that my name should be kept out of the
business altogether_.”
“What you say does you credit,” she answers. “I will do my best to obey
you.”
For the modern reader who studies this scene, and then leans back and
thinks a little what he would have done or thought in Achilles’ place,
comment is, I imagine, superfluous.[116]
Or look at Andromache’s speech in the _Andromache_. (l. 184 _seqq._) She
is accused of occupying too high a place in the favour of Neoptolemus.
“Tell me,” she answers to Hermione, “what reason could I possibly
have for wishing to stand well with your husband? Do I wish to reign
in your place, or to have more children, or to make my children kings?
Or what reason could he possibly have for preferring me? Is my native
city so powerful? Have I such influential friends?” &c. &c. As in the
_Hippolytus_, the idea that there may be love on either side is dismissed
without discussion.
Or look at the character of the Autourgos in the _Electra_. He has
married Electra, but refuses to touch her, and why?
αἰσχύνομαι γὰρ ὀλβίων ἀνδρῶν τέκνα
λαβὼν ὑβρίζειν, οὐ κατάξιος γεγώς. (l. 45.)
He is distressed that the daughter of such wealthy parents should have
made so poor a match. It is pity for the house of Agamemnon that affects
him, not pity for Electra.[117]
Hecuba again, in the play that bears her name, does not think that it is
much use to appeal to the “romantic” feelings of Agamemnon.
καὶ μὴν ἴσως μὲν τοῦ λόγου κενὸν τόδε,
Κύπριν προβάλλείν κ.τ.λ. (l. 824.)
In the _Phoenissae_ there is not much love lost between Antigone and
Haemon (cp. l. 1672 _seqq._). In the _Orestes_ the only incident
which causes Pylades to take the slightest interest in Electra is her
suggestion that they should murder Hermione. (l. 1191 _seqq._) In the
_Helena_ the first exclamation of Menelaus, when his wife assures him
that she has really been faithful to him all the time, is, “How can you
prove it?”[118] In the _Medea_ again the absence of the love-element is
a distinct loss. No one can doubt that the character of Medea would have
gained at once in probability and in pathos, if she had been allowed to
recur, if only for a moment, to the memory of her early love for Jason.
If more plays had been preserved, it would, doubtless, have been easy
still further to multiply instances; but what has been said already is
perhaps enough to show that the romantic element in Euripides is really
most conspicuous by its absence. And this cannot be a surprise to anyone
who cares to go to the root of the matter. That relation between men and
women which we call the “romantic” is founded upon sentiments and ideas
which are entirely distinct from the sexual emotions. Euripides, as we
have had occasion to notice again and again, though he had carefully
studied the sexual instinct in all its workings, had never been able
to conceive of a relation between man and woman which had not this
for its basis.[119] Without pure—I had almost said Platonic—love for
its fundamental principle, romance is an impossibility. The romantic
Alexandrian writers may not have themselves loved purely, but they knew
what pure love was, and such love was their ideal. With Euripides it was
not so, and this one fact is enough to show that he belongs to the old
literature and not to the new. That Euripides, by the emphasis which he
laid on the female character, contributed largely towards preparing men’s
minds for the growth of romance and what we now call love, cannot be
denied; but that he himself had more than the very faintest glimmerings
of what such love really was, cannot be maintained by anyone who has ever
read his works.
* * * * *
And here we may close this first part of our enquiry. The foregoing
examination of the Greek writers, though it has made no mention of
various well-known names, has yet been for our present purpose a
practically complete one. Pindar was prevented by the nature of his
works from dealing to any large extent with the position of women or
their relations with men;[120] and even where he has an opportunity of
so doing (as, _e.g._, _Fr._ 122), the result is very disappointing,
especially in view of his Boeotian origin. The fragments of the early
tragedians, other than the three discussed, are strangely deficient in
references to women. Nor need the old Attic Comedy detain us. The general
spirit of this thoroughly Athenian product is sufficiently summed up
in what profess to be the earliest words of it extant, the fragment of
Susario,
ἀκούετε λεῴ· Σουσαρίων λέγει τάδε,
υἱὸς Φιλίνον Μεγαρόθεν Τριποδίσκιος·
κακὸν γυναίκες,
while it may be doubted whether in the whole course of this literature a
female character was ever introduced on the stage, except with the view
of leading up to some form of indecency.[121]
The net results of this examination, though chiefly negative, are yet
fairly clear. It has, I hope, been shown that—
(1) That relation between men and women which is now called “love” was,
as far as can be gathered from literature, non-existent among the Greeks
down to the end of the fifth century.
(2) The position occupied by women in the consideration of men was
so unimportant, that even the sensual relation of the sexes was but
little treated of in literature till a comparatively late period, and
was always, down to the end of the fifth century, looked upon by a
considerable section of society as unfitted for public discussion and
representation. In other words, love-poetry in the modern sense is
non-existent in classical Greek literature; while love-poetry in any
sense, addressed to women, is a far more insignificant element in that
literature than is commonly supposed.
That what has just been said does not hold good of the “Alexandrian”
poets is so obvious that it hardly needs to be stated. Equally true,
however, and not equally obvious, is the fact that, from the very first,
these writers talk of women and women’s love in an entirely different
tone to that adopted by those of whom we have hitherto been speaking.
The line of cleavage between, say, Asclepiades and Euripides, is in
reality quite as marked as that between Euripides and Apollonius. On
this subject, therefore, it is perhaps worth while to say a few words,
though the terribly mutilated condition in which the works of the earlier
Alexandrians especially have come down to us, makes it very difficult to
point to striking examples of what has been said.
The first representatives of the “Alexandrian” school of poets—that is,
of the school of women-lovers—are Asclepiades and Philetas;[122] and in
both cases the mere nature of their works (quite apart from their tone)
is sufficiently striking when compared with the literature that had gone
before.
Whether Philetas actually gave the title of Battis to a collection of his
poems is difficult to say—it is, perhaps, on the whole, not improbable
that he did—but in any case there can be no doubt that a considerable
number of his elegies were either actually addressed to Battis, or
else treated of her. The erudite and elaborate style of these poems is
equally indisputable. Now, whatever may have been the actual tone of
address in these elegies—the fragments unfortunately tell us nothing,
and such other evidence as there is on the subject is of the scantiest
description[123]—the two facts above-mentioned form of themselves a
combination quite without parallel in the Greek literature of which we
have hitherto been speaking. That anyone should have taken the trouble
to devote erudition and elaboration to the praise of a woman, would have
been an unheard-of thing in early Greece.
Asclepiades is an equally striking figure in the early Alexandrian
literature; for it was he who was the first to introduce woman-love
into the epigram—the first, in fact, to give it that social recognition
which we have seen already accorded to boy-love, well-nigh two centuries
before.[124]
But what renders Asclepiades particularly important for us just now—far
more so than Philetas—is the fact that some forty of his epigrams have
been preserved, and that it will therefore be possible, by examining
these, to study at close quarters the points in which the tone of this
new love-poetry differs from that of the old.
In the epigrams of Asclepiades we find, for the first time, love for a
woman spoken of as a matter of life and death:—
οἴχομ’, ἔρωτες, ὄλωλα, διοίχομαι· είς γὰρ ἑταίραν
νυστάζων ἐπέβην, ἠδ’ ἔθιγόν τ’ Ἀΐδα.[125]
_Anth. Pal._ v. 162, 3-4.
Here, for the first time, such love appears as an end in life—as an
object for which a man may well brave death:—
νῖφε, χαλαζοβόλει, ποίει σκότος, αἶθε, κεραύνου,
πάντα τὰ πορφύροντ’ ἐν χθονὶ σεῖε νέφη.
ἢν γάρ με κτείνῃς, τότε παύσομαι· ἢν δὲ μ’ ἀφῇς ζῆν,
καὶ διαθεὶς τούτων χείρονα, κωμάσομαι.
_Anth. Pal._ v. 64, 1-4.
Similar in spirit to this is the epigram in _Anth. Pal._ xii. 166:—
τοῦθ’ ὅ τι μοι λοιπὸν ψυχῆς, ὅ τι δή ποτ’, Ἔρωτες,
τοῦτό γ’ ἔχειν, πρὸς θεῶν, ἡσυχίην ἄφετε.
εἰ μή, ναὶ τόξοις μὴ βάλλετέ μ’, ἀλλὰ κεραυνοῖς·
ναὶ πάντως τέφρην θέσθε με κἀνθρακίην.
ναί, ναί, βάλλετ’ Ἔρωτες· ἐνεσκληκὼς γὰρ ἀνίαις,
ὀξύτερον τούτων εἴ γ’ ἔτι, βούλομ’ ἔχειν.
or another—perhaps the most beautiful of all his poems that we know—so
like, and yet so utterly unlike, the elegies of Mimnermus:—
πῖν’, Ἀσκληπιάδη· τί τὰ δάκρυα ταῦτα; τί πάσχεις;
οὐ σὲ μόνον χαλεπὴ Κύπρις ἐληΐσατο,
οὐδ’ ἐπὶ σοὶ μούνῳ κατεθήξατο τόξα καὶ ἰοὺς
πικρὸς Ἔρως· τί ζῶν ἐν σποδιῇ τίθεσαι;
πίνωμεν Βάκχου ζωρὸν πόμα· δάκτυλος ἀώς·
ἢ πάλι κοιμιστὰν λύχνον ἰδεῖν μένομεν;
πίνωμεν γαλερῶς· μετά τοι χρόνον οὐκέτι πουλὺν,
σχέτλιε, τὴν μακρὰν νύκτ’ ἀναπαυσόμεθα.
_Anth. Pal._ xii. 50.[126]
The love of Mimnermus was hardly of a kind to bring tears to the eyes!
Yet, though this love has reached to such a passionate height, it does
not forget to be gallant and courteous;[127] and there is a striking
absence of that jealousy and that savage spirit of revenge which may
almost be said to be the one motive of the “lovers” in Euripides. A
remarkable instance of this most un-Greek willingness to forgive, is the
epigram in _Anth. Pal._ v. 150:—
ὡμολόγησ’ ἥξειν εἰς νύκτα μοι ἡ ’πιβόητος
Νικώ, καὶ σεμνὴν ὤμοσε Θεσμοφόρον·
κοὐχ ἥκει, φυλακὴ δὲ παροίχεται· ἆρ’ ἐπιορκεῖν
ἤθελε; τὸν λύχνον, παῖδες, ἀποσβέσατε.
while the sudden bathos of _Anth. Pal._ v. 7, is quite in the same
spirit. Even where a more real punishment is suggested, its execution is
put off into a very vague and distant future:—
ταὐτὰ παθοῦσα
σοὶ μέμψαιτ’ ἐπ’ ἐμοῖς στᾶσά ποτε προθύροις.[128]
_Anth. Pal._ v. 164, 3-4.
Striking, too, is the note of resignation that marks poems like _Anth.
Pal._ v. 189, xii. 153.[129] Still more striking, to those who remember
the brutality of Epicrates’ attack upon Lais,[130] is the tone in which
the aged courtesan is spoken of in _Anth. Pal._ vii. 217. The two little
pictures of happy lovers, so suggestive of the Acme and Septimius of
Catullus, in _Anth. Pal._ v. 153, xii. 105, are also very far indeed away
from anything of the kind that had ever gone before.[131]
We are thus confronted by a very remarkable fact. That way of regarding
women which we may call the romantic feeling—a feeling which we have
noticed to be conspicuous by its absence in Euripides—appears suddenly
developed to a high degree, in what is practically the first poetry
extant after him. The full meaning of this fact we shall come to consider
later; but before it is possible to do this, it will be necessary to
institute some further preliminary enquiries.
* * * * *
Attention has already been sufficiently drawn to the almost entire
absence from the early Greek literature of love-poetry of any kind
addressed to women; at the same time, it has been briefly pointed out
more than once that love-poetry addressed to boys or men is a very common
phenomenon in this literature. This mere fact in itself would be one
requiring some investigation, in an examination of this kind; but when
the nature of this love-poetry comes to be considered, it will be seen
how particularly important, in the present connection, is this phase of
the Greek mind. For it is a fact which becomes immediately apparent, and
grows more and more evident, the more the matter is looked into, that
while such little love-poetry as does exist, addressed by men to women,
is entirely concerned with the purely sensual aspect of the matter, in
the very considerable volume of poetry addressed by men to men, this
aspect is well-nigh entirely ignored. But obvious though this fact must
be to everyone who reads the early Greek poetry with open eyes, the
influence of our present methods of thought and training has been so
strong, that not only has its importance been strangely ignored by modern
writers, but even the fact itself has been questioned or denied. Under
these circumstances, it will not be superfluous to go into the matter at
some length, for reasons which will appear more clearly when the truth
has been established.[132]
The story of the _Iliad_ is a story without a heroine, a feature which
makes it well-nigh unique among national legends. This fact has struck
various people, and has been accounted for in various ways, the favourite
explanation, perhaps, being that the Greek imagination was severer and
more self-controlled, more statuesque, one may almost say, than that of
other primitive peoples, and was therefore content with a hero whose
sole inspiration lay in love of glory and love of battle, apart from any
gentler emotion whatever.[133] This estimate of the Greek imagination
is no doubt a just one, but there is none the less a strong objection
to seeking in it an explanation of the peculiarities of the _Iliad_. To
regard the Achilles of Homer as a person animated solely by ambition and
military enthusiasm, is, in face of the facts of the case, impossible. As
is well known, Achilles sulks because deprived of Briseis, and is only
roused again by the death of Patroclus; that is to say, his two main
actions are influenced entirely by motives outside of those which are
looked upon as his chief characteristics.[134] In other words, Achilles
is not a military hero at all; the interest one feels in him is due
almost entirely to the emotional side of his character. But while this
much is clear, the question still remains: Why has this emotional hero no
corresponding heroine? for, of course, one cannot regard Briseis as such.
The answer to this is one that will not please a certain class of modern
minds, but that is no proof that it is not true. There is a heroine in
the _Iliad_, and that heroine is Patroclus. The Achilleis is a story of
which the main motive is the love of Achilles for Patroclus.[135] This
solution is astoundingly simple, and yet it took me so long to bring
myself to accept it, that I am quite ready to forgive anyone who feels a
similar hesitation. But those who do accept it, cannot fail to observe,
on further consideration, how thoroughly suitable a motive of this kind
would be in a national Greek epic. For this is the motive running through
the whole of Greek life, till that life was transmuted by the influence
of Macedonia. The lover-warriors Achilles and Patroclus are the direct
spiritual ancestors of the Sacred Band of Thebans, who died to a man on
the field of Chaeronea.
Those who have made any study of the social life of early Greece, will
hardly need to be reminded how important a part this relationship between
older and younger men played there. In some states, such as Megara, it
was specially patronised by the government. Among the Cretans, and to a
certain extent also among the Lacedaemonians,[136] it formed the basis
of the military organisation.[137] At Thespiae, the festival of the
Erotidia was consecrated to this form of love.[138] At Elis there was a
periodical beauty-competition among the youths, the prizes consisting of
arms and armour.[139] A somewhat similar contest took place every spring
at the tomb of the hero Diocles at Megara.[140] Nor was this all. In many
states this relationship came to be looked upon as well-nigh an emblem
of constitutional liberty;[141] so much so, that the tyrants used to
regard it as a standing menace to themselves, and actually took steps to
suppress it.[142] Thus Polycrates destroyed the gymnasium[143] at Samos
ὥσπερ ἀντιτείχισμα τῇ ἰδίᾳ ἀκροπόλει, and others are said to have behaved
in a similar way.[144]
But while the social importance of this relationship cannot be
questioned, its character is equally unmistakable. In principle, and also
in practice, it was pure. Its first and most striking feature, a feature
specially emphasised by almost every ancient writer who alludes at all
to the subject, is its perfect purity. The very idea of sensuality in
connection with it is almost invariably vigorously repudiated,[145] and
the author of the “Erotic Oration” of Demosthenes is but expressing the
universal convictions of his predecessors when he says, δίκαιος ἐραστὴς
οὔτ’ ἂν ποιήσειεν οὐδὲν αἰσχρὸν οὔτ’ ἀξιώσειεν.[146]
How entirely this was the case will be still more apparent when we come
to examine the writers who dealt with the subject. Here it may suffice to
remark that, apart from that main sewer, the Old Attic Comedy, there are,
in all the Greek poetry extant down to the end of the fifth century, but
a couple, or at most three, passages in which sensuality is so much as
suggested in this connection.[147]
To trace the growth and development of this form of love—for love it was
in the most modern sense of the word—would be extremely interesting; but
it would be a long and difficult undertaking, which cannot be attempted
here. The main outlines of its history are, however, sufficiently clear.
Originating in the companionship of the battle-field, where the younger
and weaker combatants would naturally look to their elders for help and
support, it introduced itself also, as we have seen, into those peaceful
exercises which serve to train the soldier; and hence, as soon as we find
civilised communities, we find both the army and the gymnasium organised
with reference to it. When a somewhat more settled condition of affairs
had succeeded to the constant warfare of earlier times, we find it losing
to some extent its distinctively military character, though this never
entirely disappears, as is clear from the institution by Epaminondas of
that “Sacred Band” of which we have had occasion to speak already. And
so, in peace and war alike, it continues throughout classical times a
dominating element in Greek society. Its highest development was due,
of course, to Socrates and his followers; but from the end of the fifth
century onwards it was beginning to lose its hold upon the Greek mind.
The improved position of women, and that improved way of regarding
them which was gradually springing up about this time, could not fail
to affect it prejudicially, while other equally potent causes were at
work to bring about its overthrow; indeed, it is not long before we find
writers speaking in open disparagement of it.[148] And in all probability
this contempt for the “hypocrisy of the philosophers” was now, to a great
extent, justified; for there is little reason to suppose that at this
period that high standard of moral purity, with which this form of love
had been originally associated, was any longer a prominent feature of it.
The Macedonians, in destroying the old Greek states, were destroying at
once the home of its birth and the cause of its existence. It is small
wonder that it failed, like so many other of the old Greek institutions,
to adapt itself to its new surroundings, and that it could not survive
the downfall of those virtues of patriotism and independence of which it
was at once the outcome and the emblem.
But the fragrance of its early purity and beauty was never quite lost,
as long as the classical world remained. In well-nigh all the poetry
dealing with it there is a tone of dignity and chivalry to which the
poetry addressed to women never, perhaps, wholly attained. The charming
grace of the 12th Idyll of Theocritus is unsurpassed in any of his other
works; the passionate despair of the 23rd is unequalled. The contrast in
tone between the 12th and the 5th books of the _Anthology_ is one of the
most remarkable features of that remarkable collection of poems.[149]
Even Catullus, when striving to give expression to a love purer and more
intense than any Roman had ever known, still feels the spell of early
Greece upon him.
“tunc te dilexi, non tantum ut vulgus amicam,
sed pater ut natos diligit et generos,”
he exclaims. “I loved you, not as a man loves a woman, but as a man loves
a youth!”[150]
We have hitherto been speaking chiefly of the social aspect of this
form of love; we can now proceed to examine somewhat more in detail its
influence upon literature. And here two striking facts will at once
present themselves to us, the exact converse of those which met us when
examining the early literary treatment of woman-love. From the earliest
period onwards we shall find the love of man for man taking a prominent
place in poetry, while at the same time this love as there depicted is
remarkable for its chivalrous and unsensual character. In other words,
while the love of man to woman was among the early Greeks a love of the
senses, the love of man to man was a love of the soul.
Of the _Iliad_ we have spoken already, and we need not speak further, for
though, as we have already pointed out, the relations between various
of the Greek heroes there described are strong presumptive evidence of
a state of affairs parallel to that which we know to have existed in
historical times,[151] it is in the nature of an epic to be unable to
supply proof of so positive a kind as is to be found in lyric poetry,
which is generally, anyhow in early times, the expression of the writer’s
actual feelings with reference to actual surrounding circumstances.
In dealing with the lyric writers we shall therefore be on firmer ground.
Here, in the fragments of Archilochus already we find very strong
evidence of the existence of love-poems addressed to men; indeed, it is
impossible satisfactorily to explain _Fr._ 85—
ἀλλά μ’ ὁ λυσιμελής, ὦ ’ταῖρε, δάμναται πόθος,
on any other supposition. This being so, and there being no evidence of
any erotic poems addressed to women, it is justifiable to consider that
_Fr._ 84 also belonged to this same class of poetry[152]; while there
is further no reason to believe that these two passages were unique in
the works of Archilochus. In other words, love-poems addressed to men are
among the earliest known forms of subjective Greek poetry.
But while both Archilochus and Alcman[153] produced works of this kind,
the fragments of these which remain are too scanty for it to be possible
to feel any real certainty as to their exact nature; nor again was either
of these two authors particularly celebrated in ancient times for this
class of composition.
It is different with Alcaeus. Alcaeus was recognised throughout antiquity
as the master _par excellence_ of this form of poetry, and though the
actual fragments of his works on this subject which remain are not much
more satisfactory than is the case with his predecessors, we have most
valuable evidence as to their nature in two poems of Theocritus, the one
professedly and the other evidently imitated from them.[154] These poems
contain certain evidently Alexandrian elements,[155] and, consequently,
it would be unjustifiable to press any particular detail of them as
illustrating Alcaeus, but, at the same time, there seems every reason
to believe that in their general tone they reflect the spirit of their
originals, and it is to their general tone that I wish to draw the
reader’s attention.
To take the first of them (_Idyll_ xxix.). The speaker is about to tell
some unpleasant truths, but he feels constrained to apologise for so
doing (1-4). After a passionate but dignified protestation of his love
(5-8), he appeals to his friend’s better feelings (9), and urges him to
be constant in his affections (10-20).
ποίησαι καλιὰν μίαν εἰν ἑνὶ δενδρίῳ,
ὅπᾳ μηδὲν ἀπίξεται ἄγριον ὄρπετον.
“If you do so,” he continues—
“ἀγαθὸς μὲν ἀκούσεαι
ἐξ ἀστῶν,
and Love will deal kindly with you, and save you from such pangs as I
have suffered (21-24). For we grow older every day, and youth is the
season for forming those friendships which last a lifetime (25-34). Now,
I would readily do anything for your sake, but if you disregard my words,
the time may come when even if you call me I will not answer” (35-40).
But anyone who has ever read this charming little poem will not need to
have its character further forced upon him. The manliness, the dignity,
the courtesy of it, are patent in every line; more striking still to
those who know Greek literature is the spirit of self-negation which
pervades the whole; and all this, combined with a passion which is none
the less real because it is kept rigorously under control. Even in
Alexandrian times it would be hard to find a poem addressed to a woman
which can equal this in its chivalrous tone; to look for such a poem in
early Greek literature would be vain indeed.
In the second of these two pieces (_Idyll_ xxx.), also in all probability
modelled on Alcaeus, the purely erotic side of the matter comes more to
the front than in the one we have just been discussing, but here, too,
one cannot fail to be struck by the quiet earnestness of the tone, which
is as far removed from the good-humoured banter of Asclepiades as it is
from the outspoken brutality of Archilochus.
But perhaps the most striking commentary on this state of feeling is
that furnished by the other section of the Lesbian school of poets. It
has troubled the minds of many modern commentators to think why Sappho
should have addressed love-poems to Anactoria; for those who have formed
a true idea of what “love” between a man and a woman meant in Greece of
the seventh century, and compared this with the love then existing among
men for one another, the question answers itself. Sappho, in addressing
love-poems to Anactoria, was but adapting to her own circumstances and
sex the universal contemporary principles of love-poetry. It seemed so
unnatural then, and so impossible, to connect the sexual instinct with
any pure or noble feeling, that Sappho, because her love was pure and
its ideal a noble one, instinctively and inevitably chose as the object
of this love her fellow-women, just as the men of her time chose their
fellow-men.[156] To the Greek of the period the association of the sexes
inevitably suggested sensuality; Sappho loved Anactoria, just as Alcaeus
loved Lycus, in order that this suggestion might be as far as possible
excluded. Sappho loved a woman because her love was too pure to allow her
to love a man. All this sounds strange—monstrous almost—to modern ears;
and yet, of all the scandal of the centuries which has heaped itself up
around the name of Lesbos, what Sappho herself would have resented most
would perhaps have been the story that she was in love with Phaon.
We have already had occasion to notice that Anacreon, while he was the
originator of love-poetry addressed to women, at the same time addressed
a large number of his poems, in fact, the majority, to boys. In his
case, therefore, it is possible for the first time to compare the two
forms of “love” in the same individual. The comparison is not much to
the advantage of the newer feeling. While the outspoken sensuality of
the poems devoted to women cannot be matter of dispute, even judging
from such fragments of them as remain, the chaste and sober nature of
Anacreon’s relation to his boy-lovers is not only a feature of the extant
fragments, but is also alluded to more than once by ancient writers, who
had his complete works from which to draw their inferences. Thus Aelian
(_Var. Hist._ ix. 4), speaking of the love of Anacreon for Smerdias (cp.
Anacreon, _Fr._ 48) says—
εἶτα ἥσθη τὸ μειράκιον τῷ ἐπαίνῳ καὶ τὸν Ἀνακρέοντα ἠσπάζετο
σεμνῶς εὖ μάλα, ἐρῶντα τῆς ψυχῆς, ἀλλ’ οὐ τοῦ σώματος. μὴ γάρ
τις ἡμῖν διαβαλλέτω, πρὸς θεῶν, τὸν ποιητὴν τὸν Τήϊον, μηδ’
ἀκόλαστον εἶναι λεγέτω.
Maximus Tyrius again, who several times alludes to Anacreon (and always
under the title of ὁ σοφός or ὁ σοφιστής), expressly compares his love to
that of Socrates (xxiv. 9)—
ἡ δὲ τοῦ Τηΐου σοφιστοῦ τέχνη τοῦ αὐτοῦ ἤθους καὶ τρόπου, καὶ
γὰρ πάντων ἐρᾷ τῶν καλῶν καὶ ἐπαινεῖ πάντας. μεστὰ δὲ αὐτοῦ
τὰ ᾄσματα τής Σμερδίου κόμης καὶ τῶν Κλεοβούλου ὀφθαλμῶν καὶ
τῆς Βαθύλλου ὥρας· ἀλλὰ κὰν τούτοις τὴν σωφροσύνην ὅρα. ἔραμαι
δέ τοι κ.τ.λ. (_Fr._ 44) καὶ αὖθις, καλὸν εἶναι τῷ ἐρῶντι τὰ
δίκαια φησί.
A similar compliment to Anacreon seems to glimmer through Athenaeus’
account of Polycrates, (xii. 540 E.)
How deep the difference really went, it is of course impossible, in the
absence of the poet’s complete works, to show, but, as already remarked,
even in the few fragments we have, the distinction between the strong
passion with which he speaks of his boy-loves and the frivolous tone of
his addresses to women is very noticeable.
On the deep significance of the attempt of Ibycus to introduce personal
erotic poetry into the choral hymns, we have also dwelt,[157] so that we
can proceed without further delay to the works which bear the name of
Theognis, a body of poems which, in the present connection, are perhaps
the most interesting in all early Greek literature.
The great mass of these poems are in the form of short pieces addressed
by the writer to his youthful friend Cyrnus, and, as such, are one long
commentary on the subject we are discussing. Regarded from this point
of view, several features at once force themselves upon the attention.
Notwithstanding the fact that many of them are thorough love-poems, yet
not only is the sensual side of the matter entirely ignored, but even
the erotic, as far as that is subjective, is kept rigorously in the
background. The counsel Theognis gives is such as a father might give to
his son—[158]
σοὶ δέ τοι οἷά τε παιδὶ πατὴρ ὑποθήσομαι αὐτός
ἐσθλά. (l. 1049.)
Indeed, he is afraid lest Cyrnus’ eagerness may lead him into temptation,
and so even urges him not to be over-loving.
μή μ’ ἀέκοντα βίῃ κεντῶν ὑπ’ ἄμαξαν ἔλαυνε,
ἐς φιλότητα λίην, Κύρνε, προσελκόμενος.[159] (l. 371.)
He will not thrust himself upon his friend if the latter is unwilling; he
will rather himself bear the pang of parting—
ἀργαλέως μοὶ θυμὸς ἔχει περὶ σῆς φιλότητος·
οὔτε γὰρ ἐχθαίρειν οὔτε φιλεῖν δύναμαι,
γινώσκων χαλεπὸν μέν, ὅταν φίλος ἀνδρὶ γένηται,
ἐχθαίρειν, χαλεπὸν δ’ οὐκ ἐθέλοντα φιλεῖν. (l. 1091.)
Yet he is always ready to sympathise with him when in trouble—
σὺν σοί, Κύρνε, παθόντι κακῶς ἀνιώμεθα πάντα. (l. 655.)
Though Cyrnus does not heed him, he will yet make him immortal by his
songs.[160]
Much more there is, similar in tone, chiefly advice as to the choice of
friends and the like, but it would be an endless task to examine all this
in detail. The reader may open the collection at random, and at once
find further proof of what has been said here. Whatever the subject of
the poems and whatever their occasion, they are all well-nigh equally
remarkable for their dignity, their temperance, their manliness, and for
their most un-Greek virtue of unselfishness, and remarkable, no less,
for the absence from them of that meanness and spitefulness which even
in modern times so often mark the unfortunate lover. It does one good to
read these poems; they are keen and clear like a mouthful of mountain
air; and it does one good, too, to think of the θοῖναι καὶ εἰλάπιναι
where they were sung and where the spirit of them was understood. After
all, modern writers may decry and defame these _amantes contra naturam_
as much as they please, but they cannot deny that they were the first to
teach that the mission of love was to make men better.[161]
The intimate connection between the poems that bear the name of Theognis
and the _Scolia_ has already been noticed; it will not therefore be
surprising to find that the latter are almost as full as the former of
references to our present subject, though, as it is in their nature to be
commonplace, they need not detain us long.
Of the 25 _Scolia_ preserved by Athenaeus,[162] 15 deal with friendships
of this kind;[163] these may be roughly divided into two classes: those
which sing the praises of famous pairs of friends, and those which
contain general remarks on the subject. A striking instance of the first
class is, of course, the well-known _Scolion_ of Callistratus (9-12),
in which it may be observed that in the second verse, where Harmodius
is promised immortality among the celebrated heroes of antiquity, the
two of these specially mentioned are Achilles, the lover of Patroclus,
and Diomed, the lover of Sthenelus. Other examples are _Scol._ 21,
referring to Admetus, and _Scol._ 17, 18 referring to Ajax, the latter
of whom is a hero in the _Scolia_ as early as the time of Alcaeus. In
the second class, perhaps the most interesting are _Scol._ 23, with its
very Theognis-like advice, and _Scol._ 19, of which we have already
spoken.[164]
As is, of course, only to be expected, these poems do not add much to
our knowledge of the subject or its treatment; but it was none the less
worth while to call attention to them, owing to the fact that verse or
doggerel of this kind, though it may not be of much importance itself, is
yet able to furnish important evidence as to the nature of the popular
feeling to which it owes its origin. The views expressed in these poems
are not those of individual authors, they are the views of the whole
community; and it is this fact which gives to the _Scolia_ a far deeper
significance than would at first sight appear to belong to them.
So far, the examination of such fragments of the early Greek literature
as have survived, has resulted in the discovery of a body of evidence
which, if not very voluminous, is yet remarkably unanimous. It remains
to be seen in how far it is possible to supplement this from the works
of the Attic tragedians, which have been preserved in a more perfect
condition. At the first glance the prospect is not very promising; love
altogether, as we have seen, plays a very subordinate part in the Attic
drama, while that form of love which we are immediately considering,
seems at first sight to be especially neglected. And indeed, to a certain
extent, this is really the case, for very obvious reasons. In the early
days of tragedy, when the love-element was well-nigh entirely excluded,
in obedience to the then artistic canons, it was not to be expected that
exception would be made in favour of this particular form of it;[165]
later, when the love-element was gradually forcing itself into the drama,
the playwrights were all, whether they cared to confess it or not, under
the influence of Euripides, who, as we know, was a special student of
feminine nature, and as such, felt only a qualified interest in the
mutual relations of men.[166] But at the same time, a closer examination
of the Attic tragedians will perhaps reveal that this characteristically
Greek emotion has had a greater influence on their work than one would,
at the first moment, be disposed to believe.
Two plays, the _Myrmidones_ of Aeschylus and the _Niobe_ of Sophocles,
are specially mentioned by Athenaeus[167] as introducing ἀρσενικοὶ
ἔρωτες; unfortunately, however, in neither case are the fragments
preserved of a kind to throw much light on the method of treatment
adopted.
The _Myrmidones_, which seems to have been the first play of a trilogy,
treated of the death of Patroclus and Achilles’ lament for him,[168]
which seems, to judge by such expressions as those preserved in _Fr._
135,[169] 138, to have been of a passionate character; but whether the
erotic element was the only interest in the play, and whether it was in
any way developed in the latter part of the trilogy, it is impossible
now to say. The _Niobe_ recounted the misfortunes of that heroine, with
her subsequent grief and exile from Thebes, the scene of the tragedy,
to Lydia. But a striking feature, the most striking, perhaps, if we
may draw any inference from the statement in Athenaeus[170] that this
play was commonly known as ἡ τραγῳδία ἡ παιδεράστρια, was the relation
represented as existing among Niobe’s sons.[171] This would appear to
have been especially emphasised in the account of the death-scene[172]—a
passage which we can gather indirectly to have been the most popular in
the play;[173] whether it was at all prominent in the previous action we
cannot tell; and, indeed, the fragments of the _Niobe_ are of a quite
particularly meagre description.
To these two plays mentioned by Athenaeus must be added a third, the
_Chrysippus_ of Euripides, a work which is peculiarly interesting
for two reasons—its author and its subject. The _Myrmidones_ and the
_Niobe_, of which we have just spoken, seem, as far as can be judged
by the little of them that remains, to have dealt with what may be
called simple straightforward love-stories. Men are introduced as in
love with other men, and this love is brought to a climax by the most
usual of expedients—the death of the loved object. Euripides, on the
other hand, was, as we have seen, above all things a student of the
emotions in their more complex phases, and a _dénouement_ of so ordinary
a kind could not have failed to appear commonplace to a writer who took
such an interest in the pathology of the senses, even when he for once
abandoned his favourite field of the feminine passions, and undertook the
examination of a form of love, the symptoms of which are notoriously more
easily capable of diagnosis. And, as a matter of fact, the _Chrysippus_
introduces us to a novel and most interesting side of the question. The
story on which the play is founded is, to quote the words of the Argument
to the _Phoenissae_, as follows:
οὗτος (ὁ Λάϊος) ἀφικόμενός ποτε εἰς Ἦλιν καὶ τὸν τοῦ Πέλοπος
υἱὸν Χρύσιππον ἰδών, ὃς ἦν ἐξ ἄλλης αὐτῷ γυναικὸς καὶ οὐκ ἐκ
τῆς θυγατρὸς Οἰνομάου Ἱπποδαμείας, καὶ ἁλοὺς τούτου κατάκρας
τῷ ἔρωτι, ἁρπάσας εἰς Θήβας ἤνεγκεν. καὶ συνῆν αὐτῷ τὰ ἐρωτικὰ
πρῶτος ἐν ἀνθρώποις τὴν ἀρρενοφθορίαν εὑρών, καθὼς δὴ καὶ ὁ
Ζεὺς ἐν θεοῖς τὸν Γανυμήδην ἁρπάσας. ὁ δὲ Πέλοψ μαθὼν τοῦτο
κατηράσατο Λάϊῳ μηδέποτε μὲν παῖδα τεκεῖν, εἰ δ’ ἄρα καὶ
συμβαίη, ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ τοῦτον ἀναιρεθήσεσθαι.
Or, according to a slightly different version found in “Peisander”:
ἱστορεῖ Πείσανδρος, ὅτι κατὰ χόλον τῆς Ἥρας ἐπέμφθη ἡ Σφὶγξ
τοῖς Θηβαίοις ἀπὸ τῶν ἐσχάτων μερῶν τῆς Αἰθιοπίας, ὅτι τὸν
Λάϊον ἀσεβήσαντα εἰς τὸν παράνομον ἔρωτα τοῦ Χρυσίππου, ὃν
ἥρπασεν ἀπὸ τῆς Πίσης, οὐκ ἐτιμωρήσαντο ... πρῶτος δὲ ὁ Λάϊος
τὸν ἀθέμιστον ἔρωτα τοῦτον ἔσχεν. ὁ δὲ Χρύσιππος ὑπὸ αἰσχύνης
ἑαυτὸν διεχρήσατο τῷ ξίφει. (Schol. _ad Eur. Phoen._ 1760.)
The moral of both these stories is obvious. The behaviour of Laius
towards Chrysippus was a crime deserving the most exemplary punishment.
Now this fact at once affords us a clue as to the real nature of Laius’
conduct. It seems impossible that the statement that Laius πρῶτος τὸν
ἀθέμιστον ἔρωτα τοῦτον ἔσχεν can be taken to mean that he was the founder
of love as between man and man in the same way as this is related of,
for instance, Orpheus. It seems impossible to believe that any legend
should have described the originator of that form of love with which,
as we know, the highest thoughts and ideals of the early Greeks were
so intimately associated, as a criminal worthy of divine punishment.
Euripides himself might not have shrunk from such a course, but it does
not seem conceivable that he should have found any existing legend on
which to begin to work;[174] and it seems, therefore, unquestionable that
the meaning of the story cannot have been this. As a matter of fact, a
careful examination of such evidence as we have, affords every reason
for believing that its meaning was a very different one.
The true meaning of the legend is this. Laius was the first to violate
the universal law that the love between man and man must be pure; and it
was this transgression that involved himself, his family, and his country
in such universal ruin.
That this meaning is in itself a more likely one than the other, will
probably not be disputed by anyone who has formed a true conception of
early Greek feeling on the subject; more than this one cannot expect. But
while actual proof on the point is impossible, it may not be inapposite
to draw attention to the way in which the sensuality and unreasoning
animalism of Laius are emphasised at every turn, with the view doubtless,
in the first case, of preventing any conceivable misunderstanding of the
true purport of the tradition.
In the play itself, the nature of his passion is shown only too clearly
by the famous distichs (_Fr._ 840, 841):
λέληθεν οὐδὲν τῶνδέ μ’ ὧν σὺ νουθετεῖς,
γνώμην δ’ ἔχοντά μ’ ἡ φύσις βιάζεται.
αἰαῖ, τόδ’ ἤδη δεινὸν ἀνθρώποις κακόν,
ὅταν τις εἰδῇ τἀγαθόν, χρῆται δὲ μή.
Cicero says as much (_Tusc._ iv. 33, 71): Quis ... non intellegit quid
apud Euripidem et loquatur et cupiat Laius? Aelian, too (_N. H._ vi. 15),
draws an unconscious comparison between this play and the pure old-Greek
_Niobe_ of Sophocles when, after describing how the dolphin that loved
a boy ἐπιβιῶναι τοῖς παιδικοῖς οὐκ ἐτόλμησεν, he adds, Λάϊος δὲ ἐπὶ
Χρυσίππῳ, ὦ καλὲ Εὐριπίδη, τοῦτο οὐκ ἔδρασεν.
The sensuality of the passion is clearly shown, too, by various features
of the legend as recorded by various writers, above all by the fact that
Hera is the goddess outraged, and by the peculiar nature of the curse of
Pelops. The actual words, moreover, of the Scholiast of the _Phoenissae_
(τὸν Λάϊον _ἀσεβήσαντα_ ἐς τὸν _παράνομον_ ἔρωτα τοῦ Χρυσίππου) and
of the argument of that play (καὶ _συνῆν αὐτῷ_ τὰ ἐρωτικὰ πρῶτος ἐν
ἀνθρώποις τὴν ἀρρενοφθορίαν εὑρών), seem all to point the same way.[175]
In fact, the sensuality of Laius is made such a feature of the story in
every case in which it is narrated, that it cannot well be doubted that
this sensuality was a feature of the story in its earliest form; and if
this be granted, there can be very little question as to the meaning of
the story itself, as originally current.
We thus have three plays, one by each of the great dramatists, dealing
with this subject, two of them dwelling upon the intense and unselfish
nature of the passion in its true form, the third emphasising the
disastrous consequences of any transgression of that purity which was so
integral a part of it; but are these three the only ones of their kind?
They are the only three, perhaps, that dealt with the purely erotic
side of the matter; but its general influence evidently extended over a
far wider field. This influence makes itself felt in various ways and
in varying degrees, and it would be a lengthy task, and one beside the
present purpose, to endeavour to trace its workings wherever they are
visible in Attic tragedy; but a few noticeable instances of it are well
worthy of attention.
One of these is the _Ajax_ of Sophocles. It is a common complaint against
this play that the second half of it is inferior in interest to the
first. The admirers of Sophocles, however, contend that, to an Athenian
audience, the details of funeral arrangements were matters of such
paramount importance that, in a play intended for the Athenian stage, a
second act dealing entirely with this subject would not by any means be
of the nature of an anti-climax. I am no great admirer of Sophocles, and
still less am I an admirer of the mob that pelted Aeschylus and hooted
Euripides, but yet I should be disposed to give the Athenians credit for
rather higher tastes than this would seem to imply; while, even had the
predilections of his audience been so strongly those of the undertaker,
it might surely have been hoped that a poet of Sophocles’ genius would
have had the courage to ignore them. Indeed, as long as the interest
of the second half of the _Ajax_ is considered as centred on the dead
body of the hero, it is impossible successfully to refute the charge of
bathos; but a more careful consideration of this part of the play will,
perhaps, show that the interest is by no means intended to be attached
in this Mezentius-like manner to a corpse. The interest is meant to
centre on Teucer, the _amasius_ of the dead Ajax,[176] and on his efforts
to prove himself worthy of his heroic lover; for his lover’s sake, in
spite of every obstacle, and in the face of what looks like certain
death, he insists that due respect shall be paid to the dead; in fact,
there are in this situation the germs of the situation which excites
such general interest in the _Antigone_.[177] There the character whose
weakness is made strength through love, is a woman, and so we moderns
admire; here it is a man, and so we misunderstand; but it does not follow
that the Greeks were equally narrow in their sympathies.
Another instance, less obvious at first sight, but equally convincing on
nearer examination, is the _Alcestis_. The _Alcestis_ is a very difficult
play to understand, as far as the motives of its leading figures are
concerned; nor is it enough to say that, because the play has been
described as “something of a satyric drama,” therefore all its characters
are meant to be grotesque. The self-concentration of Admetus and the
complete acquiescence therein of Alcestis, must surely be capable of some
more satisfactory explanation.[178] This explanation is, perhaps, to
be found in the relation existing between Admetus and Apollo. The story
of the love of Apollo for Admetus is sufficiently familiar,[179] and
has been alluded to on various occasions in the preceding pages. Both
at Athens and Sparta the legend seems to have been well known,[180] and
there can be no doubt that an audience, when called upon to listen to a
play dealing with Admetus, would instinctively call to mind this incident
in his life.[181] Granted this, it is not, perhaps, too bold to say that
it is equally unquestionable that this recollection on their part must
have influenced their view of the hero’s character. He was unwilling to
die; for any Greek to be unwilling to die was excusable in a way which
we who live in English fogs can never understand; but for Admetus, the
beloved of the Sun-god! If he, who for nine years had met Apollo face to
face, shrank from the mould and the mud of Hades, what reason to wonder
at it? To a Greek, to live was to see the sun; surely then, to one whom
the Sun-god loved, life must be doubly precious, precious to a degree
that less happy mortals could never comprehend.[182] Then, again, if one
thought of who Admetus was. Surely the man whom the Sun-god loved was a
man whom the world could not spare, a man for whom it was a privilege
to be considered worthy to die. Patriotism, too, no less than personal
affection, would seem to compel a sacrifice on behalf of the man in whose
kingdom a god took such a special interest;[183] nor, again, was the
gift of a divine lover a thing that it was safe lightly to put aside.
All this, and much more of a kindred nature, must have been present in
the minds of those who first saw this strange play, and must have served
in part to mitigate its strangeness. It could not, perhaps, explain the
central mystery; but then, the mystery of self-sacrifice has never been
explained yet.
Another striking instance is the persistent way in which Orestes and
Pylades figure in the Athenian drama. They play a prominent part in no
fewer than five tragedies, in one of which, the _Iphigeneia in Tauris_,
the scene between them became proverbial;[184] and thus we get repeated
again and again the, to modern minds, almost grotesque situation of the
intense affection between Orestes and Pylades, and the intense affection
between Orestes and Electra,[185] and the supreme indifference between
Pylades and Electra, the two lovers who are going to marry one another
as soon as the curtain comes down. And yet, those who have read what has
gone before will know that not only did this situation seem natural to
the Athenian audience, but any other situation under the circumstances
would have seemed to them monstrous or absurd.
It is hardly necessary to follow this subject further, for enough has
been said already to make its main features perfectly clear. Still less
is it necessary, for our present purpose, to study the history of this
emotion during the succeeding centuries. As we have already pointed out,
from the end of the fifth century onwards it begins to lose its hold
on the popular imagination, and ceases to be a national institution;
and when next we find traces of it in literature, we see at once that
its nature has entirely altered. Paederastic poetry there is enough and
to spare among the Alexandrians, but it is poetry which looks strange
indeed by the side of Theognis.[186] What were the causes that led
to this change, a change as great as that which about this time came
over the relation between man and woman—how far it was due to Persian
influence, how far to the employment of professional soldiers instead of
the citizen-armies of an earlier period—all these are questions of the
greatest interest in themselves, but they cannot be discussed here. The
fact remains that that purity and self-devotion which had been the rule
in one generation became the exception in the next, and that the downward
course was never again fully arrested throughout classical times.
And yet, even the most sensual of the later poets, somehow, sometimes,
when speaking of this, rise to strange heights of beauty. Listen to
Rhianus:
ἰξῷ Δεξιόνικος ὑπὸ χλωρῇ πλατανίστῳ
κόσσυφον ἀγρεύσας, εἷλε κατὰ πτερύγων·
χὡ μὲν ἀναστενάχων ἀπεκώκυεν ἱερὸς ὄρνις.
ἀλλ’ ἐγώ, ὦ φίλ’ Ἔρως, καὶ θαλεραὶ χάριτες,
εἴην καὶ κίχλη καὶ κόσσυφος, ὡς ἂν ἐκείνου
ἐν χερὶ καὶ φθογγὴν καὶ γλυκὺ δάκρυ βάλω.
(_Anth. Pal._ xii. 142.)
Listen to Meleager, the last of the Greek poets:
οὐκ ἐθέλω Χαρίδαμον· ὁ γὰρ καλὸς εἰς Δία λεύσσει,
ὡς ἤδη νέκταρ τῷ θεῷ οἰνοχοῶν.
οὐκ ἐθέλω· τί δὲ μοὶ τὸν ἐπουρανίων βασιλῆα
ἄνταθλον νίκης τῆς ἐν ἔρωτι λαβεῖν;
αἱροῦμαι δ’, ἢν μοῦνον ὁ παῖς ἀνιὼν ἐς Ὄλυμπον
ἐκ γῆς νίπτρα ποδῶν δάκρυα τἀμὰ λάβῃ,
μναμόσυνον στοργῆς· γλυκὺ δ’ ὄμμασι νεῦμα δίϋγρον
δοίη, καί τι φίλημ’ ἁρπάσαι ἀκροθιγές.
τἄλλα δὲ πάντ’ ἐχέτω Ζεύς, ὡς θέμις. εἰ δ’ ἐθελήσει,
ἦ τάχα που κἀγὼ γεύσομαι ἀμβροσίας.
(_Anth. Pal._ xii. 68.)
δάκρυα σοὶ καὶ νέρθε διὰ χθονός, Ἡλιοδώρα,
δωροῦμαι.
The foregoing discussion has covered a quantity of ground and dealt with
a large variety of topics, some of which may have appeared but remotely
connected with our immediate subject; but in the end it has succeeded
in establishing certain facts very clearly. We have learnt from an
examination of such parts of the early Greek literature as have survived,
and from a consideration of the probable nature of the rest, that
(1) Love in the modern sense, as existing between men and women, was
unknown in early Greece.
(2) Such love on the part of men for men was not only a fact, but
was generally recognised as a social, and in some cases a national,
institution.
From this it would seem inevitably to follow, that the change which we
find at a later period to have come over the way of regarding women, was
due to a transference to the sexual instinct, and an amalgamation with
it, of that form of emotion which had previously been confined to the
mutual relations of men. In other words, men first began to look upon
women as fit objects of pure and chivalrous devotion, when they began
(to quote the expression of Alcman)[187] to look upon them as “female
boy-friends.”
Now, my reason for calling attention to this point is the following:
If one regards the origin of what, for briefness’ sake, we have called
the romantic feeling, as entirely a new growth of the fourth century,
unconnected with anything that had gone before, it is obvious that such
a growth, if indeed possible at all, can only have been made possible by
a simultaneous movement on the part of a large number of persons; for it
is inconceivable that any one man, however great his influence, could
invent and popularise an entirely new emotion. But if, on the other
hand, we regard the romantic feeling as simply due to the readjustment of
an already existing emotion, it is no longer absurd to suppose that the
original suggestion of this readjustment may have been due to some single
individual. Indeed, the probabilities rather point in that direction,
for it is a commonplace that revolutions of thought are generally due to
the discovery, on the part of some individual, of the apparently obvious
formula for which the rest of mankind have long been seeking in vain.
This being so, it will be justifiable to apply the general principle to
the case before us, and it will no longer seem a fruitless task to look
about among the literary names of the close of the fifth century and the
beginning of the fourth, for the man who gave the first impulse to that
remarkable movement with which we are at present concerned.
The great obstacle which here confronts us at the outset, and, indeed,
makes this whole investigation one of exceptional difficulty, is the
fact that, of all the periods of Greek poetry, that which covers the
first part of the fourth century—in other words, that which forms the
transition from the classical to the so-called Alexandrian era—is just
that of which the fewest monuments of importance have been preserved.
From the death of Aristophanes to the time when Asclepiades began
to write is pretty well 70 years,[188] but all the poetry which has
come down to us from this whole period consists of a few fragments of
comedy,[189] most of which it is impossible even approximately to date,
and a few epigrams, the history of which is often more obscure still.
There is thus a great gap in our knowledge, and it is just during this
interval of darkness that the romantic feeling must first have found
expression, for while in Euripides, confessedly the most “modern” of the
classical poets, no real trace of it is to be found,[190] in Asclepiades
and his immediate contemporaries and followers we find it already so
thoroughly established as a noteworthy factor in their work, that it is
impossible to doubt that its origin must belong to a considerably earlier
period. This being so, it is impossible to speak with any certainty. It
seems, however, most probable that the initiation of the movement was due
to Antimachus of Colophon.
Antimachus was a distinguished man in various ways. The author of an
important critical edition of the text of the Homeric poems, he was
himself an epic poet second only in the general estimation to Homer, and
his _Thebaid_ was still read and admired more than 500 years after his
death.[191] But the work on which his present claim rests is his elegiac
poem, _Lyde_. It may not be amiss briefly to recall the circumstances and
nature of this poem.[192]
Antimachus, falling in love with some Lydian lady, married her, and went
to live with her in her native country. Afterwards, on her death, he
returned to Colophon, where he composed, in her memory, the elegy _Lyde_,
a poem containing, in the form of digressions, accounts of most of the
unhappy lovers of tradition or mythology.[193]
Now, in this there are two features which it is impossible to parallel
in any previous Greek poem. The _Lyde_ of Antimachus was a love-poem
addressed to his wife, and written after her death. In these two facts
we recognise, on the part of the writer, a view both of married life
and of women in general, which is entirely new. Mimnermus had said that
life without love was not worth living, but his was hardly the love
to last after his lady’s death. Simonides had sung the charms of the
ideal housekeeper, but one would not expect to find emotional poetry
addressed even to the most perfect housekeeper, as such. Euripides had
expatiated on the powers and the capabilities of women; but there is
a difference between regarding a woman as a particularly cunning and
dangerous sort of beast, and regarding her as a fit object for a life’s
devotion. In Antimachus, for the first time, we meet with the new spirit
which animates the new literature and forms the foundation of the Greek
romantic conception; for it is respect for women and, above all, for
marriage, that constitutes the fundamental principle of the romantic
feeling throughout the later Greek poetry.[194] It was this spirit which
rendered possible the artistic treatment of the story of Acontius and
Cydippe, and the growth of the novel, with its one inviolable canon that,
whatever trials or temptations might befall them, the two lovers must
throughout remain pure and faithful to one another.[195] It was this that
rendered possible the New Comedy, with its endless variations on the
ever-fresh theme of the unhappy lover, made happy at the last by marriage
with his lady.[196] It was this that rendered possible the Battis of
Philetas and the Leontium of Hermesianax, just as it rendered possible
the Delia and the Lycoris of a later time. Under the old _régime_ none
of these things could have been. When Antimachus first sat down in his
empty house at Colophon to write an elegy to his dead wife, consciously
or unconsciously, he was initiating the greatest artistic revolution that
the world has ever seen.
The circumstances under which the _Lyde_ was produced were thus in
themselves sufficiently unusual to have made a deep impression, and
there is reason to believe further that the way in which Antimachus
there treated his subject was also strikingly original. Not only was the
actual literary form a novel one, and one that subsequently became very
popular, but the general tone evidently differed in a marked manner from
that of any love-poetry which had gone before. It was, above all things,
noticeable for its seriousness, its gravity, and its self-restraint,
characteristics entirely foreign to any previous love-poetry addressed to
women. Thus Poseidippus expressly contrasts the temperate Antimachus with
the licentious Mimnermus.[197] Something similar seems equally implied by
the epithet σεμνοτέρη in the epigram of Asclepiades (_Anth. Pal._ ix. 63,
2). Indirect evidence of the same nature is to be found in the remark of
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who refers to Antimachus as an instance τῆς
αὐστηρᾶς ἁρμονίας.[198] Lastly, it is not, perhaps, too far-fetched to
suppose that in Catullus xcv. the contrast between the _Smyrna_ and the
_Lyde_ is not intended to be confined merely to the literary form, but is
meant to further imply the poet’s preference for the story of Myrrha over
the less highly spiced anecdotes in Antimachus. Very interesting too,
from this point of view, are the relations of mutual admiration which are
known to have existed between Antimachus and his younger contemporary
Plato, an admiration illustrated by several striking anecdotes.[199]
That the philosopher’s views on love were directly influenced by the
poet cannot, of course, be absolutely proved. At the same time, the
well-authenticated story of this intimacy, coupled with all that we
know of the _Lyde_, is very suggestive of this, and might well furnish
the subject for more elaborate research on the part of some Platonist.
In spite therefore of the very scanty references to the _Lyde_, and
the still scantier remains of the poem itself, it seems to be clear
beyond doubt that, both in its circumstances of origin and its style, it
was entirely different from any love-poem which had preceded it; and,
further, that both circumstances and style may justly be described as
romantic. In other words, the _Lyde_ was a romantic love-poem.
But this is not in itself enough to show that the origin of the romantic
feeling which appears in Alexandrian literature was due to its influence.
It is further necessary to prove that those writers in whose works this
feeling first appeals—viz. Asclepiades and Philetas—were actually readers
and admirers of Antimachus.
This it is, perhaps, possible to do more conclusively than the general
absence of evidence on the whole subject would have led one to expect.
It is just Asclepiades and his particular followers who speak with the
greatest enthusiasm of Antimachus. Very noteworthy are the words of
Asclepiades himself—
Λύδη καὶ γένος εἰμὶ καὶ οὔνομα· τῶν δ’ ἀπὸ Κόδρου
σεμνοτέρη πασῶν εἰμὶ δι’ Ἀντίμαχον.
τίς γὰρ ἔμ’ οὐκ ἤεισε; τίς οὐκ ἀνελέξατο Λύδην,
τὸ ξυνὸν Μουσῶν γράμμα καὶ Ἀντιμάχου;
_Anth. Pal._ ix. 63.
And the passage in Poseidippus, where Antimachus and Mimnermus, coupled
but contrasted, are spoken of as the first two love-poets, is scarcely
less emphatic.[200]
In the case of Philetas, the evidence is also strong. His elegies
addressed to Battis are generally admitted to have been modelled, in
form, at any rate, on the _Lyde_ of Antimachus; and it does not seem
unjustifiable to infer from this that their spirit and their general
character were also, in the main, similar. The way in which the two poets
are coupled by Ovid (_Trist._ i. 6, 1) seems to support this view, and,
as we have already seen, there is no evidence to the contrary.[201] To
sum up, then: the conclusions arrived at are briefly as follows:
(1) In extant Greek poetry there is no trace of romantic love-poetry
addressed to women, prior to the time of Asclepiades and Philetas.
(2) In the works of these writers this element suddenly appears, not in
the nature of an experiment, but as a leading motive—an almost sure proof
that they were not the originators of it.
(3) The _Lyde_ of Antimachus was a work of such a kind, both in nature
and in circumstances of production, that there is every reason to believe
that it was a romantic love-poem.
(4) Philetas and Asclepiades were notoriously admirers of the _Lyde_ of
Antimachus.
(5) Therefore there is reason to believe that the romantic element
appearing in their poems was due to the influence of Antimachus, who may
thus be regarded as the originator of the romantic element in literature.
_Vale, lector benevole, si quidem huc usque mecum perveneris._
WOMEN IN GREEK COMEDY
I. THE CLASSIFICATION OF COMEDY
The classification of Greek Comedy has been, from the earliest times,
a subject of dispute. The ancient critics, for the most part, divided
comedy into two classes only—the Old Comedy, which has a _parabasis_, and
the New Comedy, which has none. According to these critics, the acme of
the Old Comedy was reached during the Peloponnesian War, that of the New
Comedy during the reign of Alexander. That this system of classification,
though sound as far as it goes, is not an adequate one, will be admitted
by every student of the subject, and need not be further discussed.
The alternative division of comedy into three classes, corresponding
roughly to the sixth, seventh, and eighth so-called periods of Greek
literature[202]—a scheme of arrangement that has on the whole been most
generally accepted in modern times—is also not a very satisfactory
one; for, apart from the initial objection that it, like all similar
chronological arrangements, is far too rigid to be applied to anything
so intangible as a literary tendency, there is the further and graver
objection that there is really no essential difference whatever between
the comedies performed at Athens during the reign of Philip and those
performed there in the time of Alexander.
The _Orge_ of Menander, produced in the year after the death of the
latter monarch, might have been produced, as far as one can judge of its
character by its remains, in any year of the previous fifty.
At the same time, however, it is certain that a division of comedy
into three classes rather than two is necessary; for that the work of,
say, Apollodorus Carystius, differs as much from that of Antiphanes as
anything the latter ever wrote does from the work of Eupolis, is a fact
that no one acquainted with the subject is likely to question.
The only satisfactory system of classification is that based, not on
style or chronology, but on subject. Greek comedy falls naturally into
three great divisions—the Political, the Social, and the Romantic,[203]
and, to come at once to the point, these three divisions are
characterised by three distinct ways of regarding women. The Political
Comedy practically ignores women altogether; the Social Comedy admits
the fascination of woman’s society as an incident in a man’s life;
the Romantic Comedy claims woman’s love as the one topic of absorbing
interest for men.
And here it may at once be observed that the relation between the first
two forms of art is somewhat different from that which exists between
them and the last. The Social Comedy was the natural and logical
development of the original primitive comedy, and the Comedy of Cratinus,
with its political motive, was but a temporary branch of the art, which,
though growing at one time to such striking proportions as well nigh to
conceal the parent stem, yet never actually prevented the growth and
development of the latter. The Romantic Comedy, on the other hand, was
the result, not of development, but of revolution. It was a deliberate
attempt (undertaken in the first instance, it would seem, by a single man
of genius) to inoculate the old Athenian drama with those romantic ideas
which were by this time beginning to be freely expressed in various other
parts of Greece, and to combine the teaching of the epic erotic legends,
which were in essence ideal, with the realism of Social Comedy.[204]
This being the case, one would not unnaturally expect to find a more
decided line of cleavage between the writers of the two last phases of
Comedy than is apparent in the previous case. And this is unquestionably
so. Throughout the fifth century we find political and social comedy
flourishing side by side, the great mass of the comedians being equally
at home in either branch of the art, while, towards the close of that
century and at the beginning of the next, the boundary line between the
writers of “Old” and “Middle” Comedy is notoriously a very faint one.
At the end of the fourth century, on the other hand, the victory of
the Romantic Comedy was rapid and well-nigh complete, while there is
generally no difficulty in saying without hesitation to which of the
two classes, the modern or the old-fashioned, any given play of the
transition belonged.[205]
But while the most satisfactory classification of Greek Comedy is
unquestionably one on the lines suggested above, the ordinary division
into Old, Middle, and New Comedy, is so generally recognised that it has
seemed to me inadvisable to ignore it altogether, and so these terms
will be found occurring repeatedly in the following pages. To avoid the
possibility of any misunderstanding, however, it may be remarked that
the term, “New Comedy,” will always be used in the sense of romantic
comedy. The term, “Middle Comedy,” will be used in its ordinary sense,
except that it will be extended to cover all works, irrespective of
author, which are akin to the school of Antiphanes and Eubulus. The
unsatisfactory term, “Old Comedy,” will only be used in those passages
where the context renders its meaning unmistakable.
II. THE ORIGIN OF COMEDY.
Comedy was, in its origin, as seems indeed necessary from its nature,
social rather than political. The scenes which the first comic actors
aimed at depicting appear, beyond doubt, to have been representations of
amusing incidents in the everyday life of ordinary people, and were in
no way concerned with state policy; while the personalities with which
this form of entertainment originally abounded, were aimed rather at
rival actors than at well-known public characters, and had nothing at
all in common with political lampoons. It is true that Comedy generally
received its chief impulses at times of great popular license under
democracies,[206] but this fact really means no more than that, at
such periods, the amusements of the people received greater attention
than would be the case under a tyranny or an oligarchy. No doubt these
extempore slanging-matches became, at an early time already, very
general in character, and contained, among other promiscuous allusions,
occasional references, probably none too complimentary, to important
contemporary events or personages; but that this was not their main
feature, nor that which supplied their chief interest, seems shown,
_inter alia_, by the fact that the first artistic development they
received at the hands of Epicharmus was by no means in this direction.
Nor, indeed, do the earliest Attic comedies appear to have been political
in character, the few fragments of them which survive seeming, in every
case, to deal with social subjects.[207]
The first writer to make Comedy political—that is, the first writer to
give to the “Old” Comedy of Athens that which is, by modern readers,
generally regarded as its most essential characteristic—was Cratinus.
He, abandoning in great part that endeavour to amuse which had been the
primary object of his predecessors, deliberately made use of Comedy as a
political party engine, or, as he would perhaps have preferred to call
it, as a means of attacking those who did harm to the state.[208] The
success of the new element thus imported seems to have been very great;
but, at the same time, it must not be supposed that the work of Cratinus
was all of this nature. In the first place, some of his plays were of
a distinctly general character. Thus the _Odysses_ was a simple parody
of the _Odyssey_ of Homer, and, as such, was the distinct forerunner
of a class of piece very common in the Social Comedy of the fourth
century.[209] The _Cleobulinae_, with its enigmas, is equally suggestive
of another feature of the same period of art. In like manner, the
_Panoptae_, with its attacks on the philosopher Hippo, the _Seriphii_,
with its mythological allusions, and the _Horae_, with its apparent
discussions of tragedy, all point to the direction in which lay the true
development of the art of Comedy.[210]
But, popular as the indiscriminate mud-throwing of Cratinus undoubtedly
was with a large section of that cultured Athenian audience which one
is taught to admire, a certain reaction was, in course of time, almost
inevitable; and such a reaction was actually furnished by the comedies of
Crates. Crates is described as the first Attic comedian to develop Comedy
on the lines of Epicharmus, and to introduce a plot with apparently
fictitious or allegorical characters, instead of merely bringing public
characters on the stage and making them ridiculous.[211]
From a very early period, therefore, Comedy at Athens falls into two
classes, the personal, which is usually also political, and the general
or social, though the line of demarcation is not, of course, a very rigid
one, since writers of the latter class would seldom feel much hesitation
in attacking anyone who had made himself particularly obnoxious to them,
even if he were a political character, while those of the former were
also frequently compelled, for equally personal reasons, to set a limit
to their righteous indignation. Thus Pherecrates, the most important
of the actual imitators of Crates,[212] is by no means averse to an
occasional personality, while a writer of the very opposite school,
Hermippus, was yet the author of the _Athenas Gonae_.[213] Plato and
Aristophanes are, of course, equally striking instances of the same fact
occurring at a later date.
From the preceding paragraphs, which might have been considerably
extended, had it not lain somewhat outside the present subject to extend
them, one fact at least will be abundantly clear. That system of treating
subjects rather than persons as material for comedy which is sometimes
spoken of as a distinctive feature of “Middle” Comedy (using that term in
its chronological sense), had already been in vogue at Athens from the
very earliest times; in fact, what are commonly called “Old” and “Middle”
Comedy are, in spirit, intimately associated with one another, and the
most important differences between them are in purely external matters,
brought about by external causes.[214]
This fact will not be without its importance in considering our immediate
subject. In the first place, it will cause us to find in the early
Athenian comedy two distinct ways of regarding women, which, while
contemporaneous, have very little else in common with one another.
The comedy of the school of Cratinus,[215] being concerned with
public characters and with them alone, naturally ignores women almost
entirely.[216] The comedy of the school of Crates, on the other hand, is
very similar in its treatment of women to the comedy of the beginning
of the fourth century, except that, in so far as the position of women
in Athenian society was a less important one in the middle of the fifth
century than it was some seventy years later, the female element is not
such a pronounced feature of these early works as it is of the later.
A detailed examination of the treatment of women in early comedy, as far
as such is possible by means of the fragments, will serve to illustrate
the foregoing somewhat general remarks.
III. EARLY COMEDY.
Cratinus, in that work at any rate which is truly characteristic of his
genius, is entirely engrossed in public affairs, and in attacking the
characters of public men. It is not, therefore, surprising to find that
in his plays women are almost entirely ignored. The one notable exception
is Aspasia, who is, it is true, alluded to more than once, and that in
no very complimentary terms; but this is, of course, only what one would
expect of an opponent of Pericles.[217] The poet’s views of married
life are sufficiently illustrated by his _Pytine_. It is, however,
to be observed that, in those of his plays which, from legislative
causes, approximated more closely to the contemporary social comedy, the
female element is more apparent, though even here it is never really
prominent. Thus the _Cleobulinae_ appears to have introduced a chorus of
women propounding enigmas, while both the _Nemesis_ and the _Seriphii_
contained at least allusions to erotic mythological incidents.[218]
The other early poets of the political school are still more barren of
references to women; indeed the fragments of Teleclides, Hermippus, and
Eupolis,[219] put together, do not furnish a single noticeable instance.
It is otherwise, as already remarked, with the school of Crates. The
fragments of Crates himself do not indeed furnish much of interest in
this connection, except, perhaps, the rather _risqué_ remarks in _Fr.
Incert._ 3 and 4, but from Pherecrates there is more to be learnt. In
the first place, three of his plays, the _Corianno_, _Thalatta_, and
_Petale_, are named after Hetaerae, a common enough feature in later
times, but rare at this early period; while the first two of these, at
any rate, were evidently devoted to a study of the life of this class of
person. Thus the _Corianno_ describes (_Fr._ 1, 2, 3, 4) the drinking
propensities of its heroine;[220] while the _Thalatta_ gives one even
further particulars, _Fr._ 7 describing the arrival at Thalatta’s house
of her lover[221] (perhaps the Epilesmon, the “Absent-minded Man,” from
whom the piece had its second title), and _Fr._ 2, 3, and 5 their supper
together, while _Fr._ 4 shows clearly that a lover’s quarrel of some sort
duly found its place in the piece.[222] Of the _Petale_ no important
fragment remains. Whether the _Pannychis_ dealt with one of those
incidents which are so common in New Comedy, it is impossible to say.
IV. ARISTOPHANES.
The remains of Pherecrates, therefore, notwithstanding their very meagre
character, supply ample evidence that, at this period already, some of
the most popular characters and scenes of early fourth-century comedy had
found a place on the Athenian stage[223]; but a still more interesting
field of study is furnished by those poets who belong to the period of
transition which commences with the decline of the Athenian power, and
more especially by those who began life as adherents of the personal and
political school of Cratinus, and were afterwards compelled, by force
of circumstances, to identify themselves with a different style of art.
Foremost among these is, of course, the name of Aristophanes. The earlier
plays of Aristophanes contain few allusions to women, and throughout his
works it may be doubted whether he ever introduced a female character on
the stage except with the ultimate intention of leading up to some form
of indecency. At the same time, since the fact that his plays have been
preserved affords a better opportunity of judging of his views than is
to be had in the case of any other writer of the period, it will perhaps
be well to examine some of his characteristics in greater detail.
The first and, perhaps, the most striking feature in the Aristophanic
treatment of women—a feature which is very prominent indeed in certain
plays—is the respect which the poet professes to feel for women’s
judgment and powers of organisation. Thus, in the _Lysistrata_, the
treaty between Athens and Sparta, which is admitted on all sides to be
desirable, can only be brought about through the intervention of a woman.
Similarly, in the _Ecclesiazusae_, when the government of the city has
fallen into a deplorable state, it is reorganised by the women, and their
scheme of reorganisation is, we are given to understand, a complete
success, for the time being at any rate. Again, in the lost play of the
_Scenas Catalambanusae_, there seems little doubt that the motive of the
action was an appeal on the part of the poet from the male audience who
had not appreciated him, to a female audience which he expected to find
endowed with better taste.
All this is very pleasing as far as it goes. The question is:—How far
is this respect professed for women, genuine? Enquiry would seem to
show that very little of it, if any, is genuine at all. Of the _Scenas
Catalambanusae_ it is impossible to speak with certainty,[224] but, as
for the other two plays mentioned above, it is hard to believe that the
women are introduced for any other purpose than that of leading up to
the various scenes of indecency which afford the main interest of both
pieces. The climax of the _Lysistrata_ is the pathetic speech of Cinesias
(865 _seqq._), that of the _Ecclesiazusae_ the struggle between the γραῦς
and the νεανίς (877 _seqq._), and neither of these scenes can be said to
show much respect for female nature. As for the success of the women’s
efforts in both these plays, it is perhaps sufficient to observe that in
each case the poet’s main object was to point out the advantages of a
particular course of action, not to suggest any novel method of procedure
by means of which this course was to be adopted. The political object of
both comedies is merely to attack the government of the day. No one who
has ever read these plays would be likely to argue that they advocated
the extension of the franchise to women, or indeed concerned themselves
in any way with any subject of the kind. To put it shortly, the women are
introduced for indecency’s sake, and their revolutions succeed simply
because they are revolutions against the existing order of things, an
order of which Aristophanes did not approve. It would be as reasonable to
suppose that the _Aves_ was a serious piece of advice to the Athenians to
consult with birds about the management of the State, as to assume that
the _Ecclesiazusae_ meant to imply that the views of women were really
worthy of consideration or adoption.
The incessant allusions in these plays, no less than in others, to
the incontinence,[225] the drunkenness, and the various other faults
with which it was usual at the time to tax women—allusions which
frequently take the form of frank confessions on the part of the women
themselves—are so numerous that there is no need to quote any of them.
Another rather striking feature is the way in which several of the plays
of Aristophanes conclude with the wedding of one of the characters—a
feature at first sight very suggestive of the comedy typical of a much
later period. The best known instance of this is perhaps in the _Eirene_,
but the same seems to have been the case in the _Polyidus_ (where the
successful soothsayer is rewarded with the hand of the king’s daughter,
Phaedra), and in the _Geras_, where the hero, having been miraculously
restored to youth, repudiates his former wife, and marries one more
suited to his recently acquired—or lost—years. It must, however, be
observed that in none of these plays, as far as one can see, is the
wedding of the hero by any means the logical result of the action of the
piece; it is merely an incidental episode introduced, in the _Eirene_ at
any rate, and very possibly also in the others, simply with the view of
providing the chorus with an effective exit. In the _Polyidus_, moreover,
it is clear that though Minos gives his daughter as a reward, he has his
own opinion as to the value of the gift, an opinion which is hardly
complimentary to Phaedra[226]; while in the _Geras_ there can be little
reasonable doubt that the connubial arrangements were made the occasion
for a plentiful supply of obscenities, _quae nunc desiderantur_, if
one can use the words in such a connection.[227] One must be careful,
therefore, not to exaggerate the importance of this feature in the
Aristophanic treatment of women, though it cannot, of course, be denied
that to introduce a wedding at all on the stage was a distinct advance on
strict Athenian views with reference to such events.[228]
Aristophanes was above all things, by profession at least, a
conservative and a _laudator temporis acti_; but, strangely enough,
this characteristic of his is but little noticeable in his treatment of
women. Nothing would have been more natural, one would have thought, than
that he should, in the course of some of his highly-coloured pictures
of primeval felicity before the days of Euripides and the philosophers,
have dwelt upon the purity of ancient family life and the chastity of
a previous generation of women, in contrast to that present depravity
to which he makes such frequent allusion. But, true to his Athenian
temperament, he never follows any such line, nor indeed does he ever take
up high ground on this subject. Ready as he is to moralise seriously on
other matters, even on matters so distinctly erotic as the relations of
man to man,[229] his tone with regard to women is invariably flippant.
Women are, above all things, conservative:
μοιχοὺς ἔχουσιν ἔνδον ὥσπερ καὶ πρὸ τοῦ. (_Eccles._ 225.)
Euripides may have made rude remarks about women, but his suggestions are
politeness itself compared with what might have been said.[230] Indeed,
the main charge of the women against Euripides in the _Thesmophoriazusae_
is not that he has maligned them, but that he has opened the eyes of
their husbands to what they actually do.[231] It is needless to multiply
instances; the general tendency is plain. Woman in Aristophanes is
invariably an object of ridicule. So incapable was he of treating her
otherwise, that his one ideal woman, Eirene, for whom the knight-errant
Trygaeus flies up to heaven on the dung-beetle, was a colossal failure,
a κολοσσικὸν ἄγαλμα that was the general laughing-stock of his
contemporaries.[232]
This being so, there is but little need to dwell on such “erotic”
passages as do occur, here and there in his works, between men and
women. Such scenes, of which the best instance is perhaps that in the
_Ecclesiazusae_ (877 _seqq._), are never the main motive of the plot;
they are merely more or less irrelevant incidents, developed or not
according to the chances they afford for the introduction of amusing
indecencies. In these scenes Aristophanes is often to be seen at his
very best, but they cannot of course be drawn upon with the object of
supplying evidence as to his real views of women, except in so far as
they serve still further to emphasise what has already been said as to
the poet’s disinclination to deal seriously with the subject of women
at all. Indeed, his view of the proper relation between love and art is
sufficiently illustrated by the famous argument in the _Ranae_ (1043
_seqq._) between Aeschylus and Euripides, where, after the former has
stated with pride:
οὐδ’ οἶδ’ οὐδεὶς ἥντιν’ ἐρῶσαν πώποτ’ ἐποίησα γυναῖκα,
and the latter has defended his own erotic treatment on the ground that
it is realistic:
πότερον δ’ οὐκ ὄντα λόγον τοῦτον περὶ τῆς Φαίδρας ξυνέθηκα;
the answer comes back:
μὰ Δί’, ἀλλ’ ὄντ’· ἀλλ’ ἀποκρύπτειν χρὴ τὸ πονηρὸν τόν γε ποιητήν.
The treatment of erotic subjects in a realistic manner is not the
business of a true poet!
V. THE COCALUS.
With this before one, it would seem hardly necessary to say anything
further about the erotic element in Aristophanes. There is, however, one
play of his—the last, or last but one, that he wrote—which seems at
first sight to differ so entirely in spirit from the rest, that it is
well worthy of separate notice.
This play is the _Cocalus_, a work of which it is distinctly stated by
ancient authorities that it anticipated one of the most characteristic
features of romantic comedy—nay more, that it actually served as the
model for Menander and Philemon. Thus, in the _Vita Aristophanis_, p.
xxxviii., it is said: ἐγένετο δὲ καὶ αἴτιος ζήλου τοῖς νέοις κωμικοῖς,
λέγω δὴ Φιλήμονι καὶ Μενάνδρῳ ... ἔγραψε Κώκαλον, ἐν ᾧ εἰσάγει φθορὰν καὶ
ἀναγνωρισμὸν καὶ τἄλλα πάντα ἃ ἐζήλωσε Μένανδρος, and again, p. xxxv.:
πρῶτος δὲ καὶ τῆς νέας κωμῳδίας τὸν τρόπον ἐπέδειξεν ἐν τῷ Κωκάλῳ, ἐξ οὗ
τὴν ἀρχὴν λαβόμενοι Μένανδρός τε καὶ Φιλήμων ἐδραματούργησαν.
Of these statements, the one part, startling as it is, must presumably
be accepted without question. In the face of such definite evidence,
it would be rash to attempt to deny that one of the features of
Aristophanes’ play was φθορὰ καὶ ἀναγνωρισμός—a feature which is, as is
well known, not only one of the commonest in romantic comedy, but also
peculiarly characteristic of the love-element as there treated. The sort
of story of which we are speaking is sufficiently familiar to every
reader of Terence. A man seduces a girl, either without knowing at all
who she is, or else under the impression that she is a foreigner or a
slave. Afterwards she is proved to be an Athenian citizen, and he, being
still in love, marries her, with the double object of atoning for his
fault and of continuing his amour on a legitimate basis.[233]
But here a question arises. Granted that Aristophanes anticipated one of
the most characteristic situations of the romantic comedy, in how far, if
at all, did he anticipate the romantic treatment of that situation, such
as we subsequently find it? Aristophanes, as we have seen, has the first
part of the romantic love-story in his _Cocalus_; is it probable that
he also had the second? He has the seduction and the recognition; is it
probable that he had also the _amende honorable_ prompted by feelings of
respect and devotion? And, as a natural pendant to this, is it probable
that the _Cocalus_ was really, as asserted, the model after which the
later romantic comedy was formed?
It is not probable. No one who knows the works of Aristophanes, and
considers the character of the Athenians of his day, would expect such
a thing; and, apart from this inherent improbability, there are various
reasons which seem to suggest that the second part of the anonymous
grammarian’s statement was based upon a misconception. But, before
discussing any of these points, it will be necessary to investigate, as
far as possible, the exact nature of this play of Aristophanes, for which
so much is claimed.
An examination of the actual remains of the _Cocalus_ will not afford
very much information, for the fragments preserved are few and
unimportant, while the mercurial nature of Aristophanes’ plots, as we
know them from existing plays, makes it obviously hazardous to venture
conjectures as to what they may or may not have included. Certain facts,
however, seem sufficiently clear. For one thing, the play was based, at
any rate originally and ostensibly, on the legendary history of Cocalus,
Daedalus, and Minos. This history was, briefly, as follows:—
Daedalus, after his flight from Crete, took refuge with Cocalus, king of
Sicily, and rose to high favour at his court. When Minos, having learnt
his whereabouts, demanded his surrender, Cocalus at first seemed willing
to comply, and invited Minos to his palace. The latter, suspecting
nothing, accepted the invitation, and was at once murdered in his bath,
either by Cocalus himself or by his daughters.[234]
That the latter version of the final incident was accepted by
Aristophanes seems probable, but even so it is hard to see how the
φθορὰ καὶ ἀναγνωρισμός can be brought into the story. It is, perhaps,
justifiable to assume that the hero of the amour was Daedalus, and that
the lady was subsequently recognised as a daughter of Cocalus; but how
this all came about, it is well-nigh impossible to say. In some of the
fragments we are apparently introduced to a regular Hetaera (_e.g._ 2,
10; and, perhaps, 6, 7); in another, however (_Fr._ 3), a woman seems
vigorously repudiating some slur cast on her character. It cannot, of
course, be proved that the plot[235] was not one of the regular New
Comedy kind: The daughter of Cocalus, being stolen as a child, became the
property of a _leno_, and was thus brought in contact with Daedalus, &c.
But it seems to me much more probable that the structure of the story was
somewhat of the following kind. The daughter of Cocalus is violated by
Daedalus on the occasion of a nocturnal orgy, without being recognised by
her lover. She, however, is aware of his identity, and consequently, when
the time comes, murders Minos, an event which necessitates explanations
(the ἀναγνωρισμός of the grammarian).[236] One thing there is to be said
in favour of this scheme of reconstruction, though, of course, when the
evidence is so slight, it is impossible to feel anything like confidence
with regard to this or any other suggestion. If this view be adopted,
Aristophanes may be assumed to have chosen his story with the object of
satirising the _Pannychides_ and other similar orgies, which were always
a favourite subject of attack with him, and which he had already abused
in the _Horae_,[237] the _Lemniae_, and, perhaps, elsewhere.
But, be this as it may, one thing is plain. There is nothing, either in
the story of the _Cocalus_ or in its treatment, as far as the fragments
allow one to judge of this, which has any real sympathy with that later
feeling which inspires the romantic comedy. For one thing, the erotic
incident, such as it is, belongs entirely to that primitive class in
which the action is all on the side of the woman. The daughter of Cocalus
saving her lover is but a reflection of Medea or Ariadne. In the later
romantic comedy, on the other hand, the action is regularly on the side
of the man; for, as is well known, the attempts of the lover to outwit
his father or the _leno_ supply pretty well the whole stock of the
incidents of New Comedy. Again, there is no suggestion whatever, as far
as one can judge, of any marriage by way of reparation, or, indeed, of
any marriage at all;[238] and marriage, as we shall see very clearly
later on, is the fundamental principle of Greek romance. Again, there is
no suggestion—and this is still more important—that the love of Daedalus
was described as more than a mere temporary emotion; and here is another
point of difference between this play and the romantic New Comedy. In
fact, if one comes to examine the story of the _Cocalus_ carefully,
it becomes apparent that the essential features of Greek romance are
entirely wanting. Indeed, the only real affinity of this play to the New
Comedy seems to be that it anticipated, or possibly suggested, some of
the rather cumbrous conventional machinery of the latter form of art.
A further fact, which well-nigh precludes the possibility of regarding
the _Cocalus_ as the real model of New Comedy, is furnished by the dates.
The date of the _Cocalus_ cannot be fixed later than the year 380 or
thereabouts. The first play of Philemon, admittedly the most ancient
poet who wrote romantic comedies, appeared in 330. Thus, even if it were
granted that such romantic comedies were among the earliest of Philemon’s
works, which was almost certainly not the case,[239] there would still
be an interval of at least fifty years during which the “romantic”
_Cocalus_ of Aristophanes did not find a single imitator. The works of
Antiphanes, Eubulus, and, indeed, all the typical writers of “Middle”
Comedy, do not contain so much as a suggestion of a romantic element, and
yet, before the time of all of them, there was in existence a perfect
romantic comedy, which only needed to be revived by Philemon to bring
about a complete revolution of the canons of dramatic art. In fact, the
introduction of the romantic element into comedy—that is, the birth of
the modern drama—was due to a chance resuscitation by Philemon of an
obscure piece that had been lying unnoticed for more than fifty years.
_Credat Apella._
Moreover, if one comes to consider the matter, there were powerful causes
at work in the minds of the early critics, which may very well have led
them to assign an undue degree of importance to the _Cocalus_. Such
causes would be mainly of two distinct kinds.
In the first place, there was the tendency, with which every student of
ancient and mediaeval criticism is familiar, to exaggerate the merits of
certain individuals, and to ascribe to certain admittedly great names
an even more extended influence than they actually possessed.[240] It
seemed only natural, therefore, to the ancient critic to expect that
Aristophanes, being admittedly the greatest of the comedians, should
not only have profoundly influenced his own immediate field of art, but
should also have laid the foundations of every subsequent form of comedy.
The grammarian, therefore, who found in the story of the _Cocalus_ a
certain resemblance to stories with which he was familiar in the plays of
the New Comedy, felt no hesitation in affirming that the _Cocalus_ was
actually the model on which these plays of the New Comedy were based,
just as Platonius (p. xxxiv.) speaks of the _Aeolosicon_ as ὁ τῆς μέσης
κωμῳδίας τύπος.
In the second place, the story of the _Cocalus_ had actually
been converted into a “New” Comedy play—the _Hypobolimaeus_ of
Philemon[241]—and the existence of this neo-comic version of the story
may very possibly have influenced the recollections of the original; for
it is more than probable that the play of Philemon, while adopting the
main features of the story as it appeared in Aristophanes, yet differed
considerably in its general treatment of the erotic incidents. In other
words, there is little reason to doubt that Philemon, actuated by the
changed spirit of his time, developed the romantic capabilities of the
story to the utmost, and gave a romantic interpretation to various
situations, where nothing of the kind had been done or intended by
Aristophanes. And hence the fact that a romantic version of the _Cocalus_
was familiar, served to spread the idea that the original _Cocalus_ was
romantic also, and, as such, a forerunner of the romantic element in
New Comedy, whereas, as a matter of fact, it was nothing of the kind,
owing its romantic colouring entirely to the influence of the ideas
disseminated by that New Comedy which it was erroneously supposed to
inspire.
To sum up, then: There seems little reason to believe that the _Cocalus_
is really as important for the history of the romantic element as would
at first sight appear. Apart from the strong _prima facie_ improbability
of finding a romantic love-story in a play by Aristophanes, there is the
further remarkable fact that the Aristophanic suggestion, if really
given, found no one to take it up for more than fifty years. Again, while
the legendary history of Cocalus and the fragments of the play, as far
as such have been preserved, do not actually preclude the possibility
that the erotic incident may have been treated in a romantic manner, they
certainly furnish no evidence whatever in favour of such a view. There
are, besides, various reasons which may have induced the ancient critics
to see a greater resemblance between the _Cocalus_ and the plays of the
New Comedy than was actually present. On the whole, therefore, it would
appear that the similarity between this work of Aristophanes and the
romantic comedies of Menander and his followers, is merely an accidental
and superficial one, and that it is incorrect to say, as some have done,
that the latter class of composition was derived from or inspired by the
former.
VI. THE POETS OF THE TRANSITION.
To return after this somewhat lengthy digression to our examination of
the poets of the transition.
Plato, even more than his model Aristophanes, was a follower of the
political school of Cratinus, revelling in personal attacks of the most
violent kind, and hence there seems little reason to doubt that such of
his plays as bear the stamp of Middle Comedy belong to his later period,
and were only produced, decidedly _invita Minerva_, when the free license
of abuse had been artificially checked. Hence the allusions in his works
to women or erotic subjects seem to have been unusually scarce. In the
_Adonis_, mention is made of the rival lovers of the hero, Aphrodite
and Dionysus; but there is nothing to indicate that this play contained
anything of the nature of a serious exposition of the respective claims
of male and female love. The _Zeus Cacumenus_ very probably introduced
Zeus in his usual comic character of the adulterer, as did the _Nyx
Macra_,[242] and the _Europe_ may very possibly have treated of a
similar subject. More original, however, and interesting than these is
the _Phaon_, which seems to have been one of the poet’s latest works,
and which furnishes a good specimen of his manner of treating women.
Phaon, having been presented by Aphrodite with the cosmetics which
were to inspire universal passion, appears surrounded by a crowd of
admiring women, who are, however, refused access to his presence, unless
they perform certain propitiatory rites (_Fr._ 2), and otherwise prove
themselves worthy of the honour. The means by which one lady eventually
qualifies (_Fr._ 4) can only be guessed, but the language of _Fr._ 3
seems to suggest that the contest was somewhat after the manner of those
described in _Anth. Pal._ v. 35 or Alciphron i. 39, 4 _seqq._[243]
The interest of this piece lies in the fact that the plot is, despite
its ribald handling, unequivocally a love-story, and, as such, perhaps
distinct from any piece that we have hitherto had occasion to examine.
That the love-story is, however, of the kind which belongs essentially to
Middle Comedy, and has nothing whatever in common with those of the later
romantic comedy, will become abundantly clear when we come to deal with
the points of difference between these two schools of art.[244]
The information to be gained from the remains of the other poets of
the transitional period is sadly scanty. The _Moechi_ of Ameipsias, a
play which, to judge by the title, might have thrown much light on the
present subject, is hopelessly lost. Of the _Sappho_ even the title is
doubtful. The celebrated _Ichthys_ of Archippus seems to have contained
punning allusions to the Hetaerae Sepia and Aphye, a sign of the growing
inclination to discuss this class of persons on the stage. The latter
lady, or a namesake of hers, is mentioned by Callias in his _Cyclopes_.
Of the _Atalanta_ of the same writer, one line is preserved:
κέρδος αἰσχύνης ἄμεινον· ἕλκε μοιχὸν ἐς μυχόν,
which seems in some sort to suggest that episode in the life of
the mythical Atalanta, daughter of Schoeneus, which led to her
metamorphosis[245]; but, seeing that even the title _Atalanta_ is
doubtful, this conjecture cannot be considered as very certain. Strattis
appears to have introduced Lais on the stage in his _Macedones_ (_Fr._
5), and in his parodies of the _Medea_, the _Phoenissae_, &c., the
female characters of Euripides doubtless came in for their full share of
ridicule, though no definite evidence to this effect has been preserved.
A little more information is to be gained from the works of those
poets who belonged to the very end of the period of transition. Thus,
the plays of Theopompus, which deal almost exclusively with Middle
Comedy subjects, furnish several instances of that treatment of female
characters with which one is familiar in the plays of the Middle Comedy
proper. The _Aphrodisia_ introduces us to the Hetaerae celebrating their
customary festival. _Fr._ 1 affords a specimen of the remarks passed
on absent friends on such occasions,[246] while _Fr._ 2 gives further
details of the festivities. The solitary but considerable fragment of
the _Nemea_ (called after the Hetaera of that name) gives a lively
description of a scene in which an intending lover is doing his best to
gain the approval of the lady’s _lena_, a class which was, doubtless,
as devoted then to the _curto vetus amphora collo_ as it was 400 years
later.[247] In the _Capelides_ it is equally possible to get a glimpse
of the action of the piece. A man dropping in at the bar of a house he
has been in the habit of frequenting, and finding himself less effusively
welcomed than he had had reason to hope (_Fr._ 3, 4), threatens to
attack the proprietress and the rival of whom he is jealous (_Fr._
5). Of the rest, the _Hedychares_ described a wedding ceremony (_Fr._
3),[248] the _Callaeschrus_ contained an allusion to the expensiveness
of certain Hetaerae, and general erotic allusions are not uncommon
(_e.g._ _Odysseus_ 1, _Medus_ 2). The _Stratiotides_ seems to have had
some points in common with the _Ecclesiazusae_ of Aristophanes. Alcaeus,
who is one of the very latest in date of the writers usually ranked as
belonging to the “Old” Comedy, deals in nearly all his plays with erotic
subjects, mostly in the shape of mythological stories burlesqued. To
this class belong the _Pasiphae_, the _Hierus Gamus_, the _Endymion_,
the _Ganymedes_, and perhaps the _Callisto_, unless this be, like the
_Palaestra_, named after an Hetaera. From this list of titles it may
be seen that every style of love came in for treatment, but in no case
are the fragments sufficiently numerous, for it to be possible even to
hazard a guess as to what the nature of that treatment may have been.
As to the plot of the _Adelphae Moecheuomenae_, we are equally in the
dark, though the title seems to suggest the _Aeolosicon_ of Aristophanes
and the _Canace_ of Euripides. Lastly, in the _Antea_ of Eunicus and the
_Thalatta_ of Diodes, both named after Hetaerae, we have two further
instances of a class of piece with which we have been steadily growing
more familiar, the nearer we have approached the confines of the typical
“Middle” Comedy.
VII. THE MIDDLE COMEDY.
The poets of the transition, of whom we have just been speaking, have
introduced us, more or less, to most, if not all, of the features which
belong to the Middle Comedy proper; at the same time, it may not be
amiss, for clearness’ sake, to recapitulate briefly those features, in so
far as they affect our immediate subject.
The points on which it is essential to concentrate the attention are
three in number:—
(1) In Middle Comedy, the preponderance of politics as the main dramatic
interest—a preponderance which, naturally, tended to exclude women
from the stage—disappears, and, consequently, female characters step
inevitably into a more prominent position.
(2) The restriction of the original license of Comedy, had led the
comedians to devote their talents to parodying mythological subjects; the
parodists of mythology would naturally find their readiest materials in
the stories of the amours of the various gods, and hence erotic stories
of a sort at once come to the fore.
(3) Middle Comedy being in great part, if not entirely, devoted to the
realistic treatment of contemporary social life, the Hetaerae, who
formed an important feature in that life, were necessarily brought into
prominence.[249]
Of these three main features,[250] the first two will not require special
illustration,[251] but the last is one on which it will be necessary to
dwell for some time.
The Hetaera-plays[252] are one of the most characteristic features of
the fourth century; indeed, it may almost be said that admiration for
the Hetaera, and ridicule of the wife, were the two main social canons
of the period. These plays seem to have been realistic representations
of contemporary life, and their general character is sufficiently
demonstrated by the well-known retort of Antiphanes to Alexander;[253]
but while they all thus have, as it were, a certain family likeness,
it would appear, beyond doubt, that they may be also divided into two
distinct classes, viz., those that have a distinct erotic plot, and those
that have none, the latter naturally belonging to an earlier period of
development than the former.
Plays dealing with Hetaerae were not, as we have already seen,
exclusively a feature of the fourth-century Comedy, though the majority
of such plays does, of course, belong to this period. In the very
beginnings of Comedy at Athens, we have at least three plays of this
class from the pen of Pherecrates,[254] while, at a later period of the
fifth century, other works of a similar character seem certainly to have
appeared.
The general character of these plays, however, seems, in spite of the
modernity of their subject, to have been essentially that prevailing
during the early period to which they belong. Pherecrates and his
imitators seem to have been merely concerned in drawing a picture—perhaps
a somewhat burlesque one—of the general life of an Hetaera and her
followers, and in dwelling upon the various comic incidents which might
occur in her environment, without troubling to connect these incidents
by means of any very definite story. In other words, the Hetaera-play
of Pherecrates was still, in the main, that mixture of pantomime and
variety-show with which one is familiar in Aristophanes, and with which
one’s ideas of the early Athenian Comedy are usually associated. And that
plays of this class continued to be produced with success till well into
the fourth century, there seems no reason to doubt.
The typical Hetaera-play of the Middle Comedy, however, is of an entirely
different character. In this there is a definite plot, of which the
Hetaera is the heroine, while the action of the piece is supplied by the
struggles _de nocte locanda_ of her various rival lovers. In fact, the
Hetaera-play of Antiphanes or Alexis is a comedy in the modern sense of
the word, while the Hetaera-play of an earlier period is still nothing
but an extravaganza. The author of this great change is not known;
perhaps it was Anaxandrides.
It is stated of Anaxandrides that he was the first to introduce ἔρωτας
καὶ παρθένων φθοράς[255] into Comedy. This statement is, at first sight,
rather difficult to understand, when one considers plays like the
_Nemesis_ of Cratinus, or the _Cocalus_ of Aristophanes, not to speak
of erotic episodes like the one which terminates the _Ecclesiazusae_ of
the latter writer; and it must be apparent that the mere introduction
on the stage of such subjects cannot be the merit claimed by Suidas
for Anaxandrides. The most simple explanation of the apparent anomaly
would therefore seem to be, that what Suidas means to imply, is that
Anaxandrides was the first to make erotic subjects the main interest
of his plot, and to introduce his principal characters as taking part
in them; for this, as we have already seen, was not the case with the
earlier plays which dealt with erotic matters.
Whether this great advance was really due to Anaxandrides cannot,
unfortunately, be proved with anything like certainty, for such fragments
of his works as have survived are remarkably reticent on this particular
subject;[256] but there can be no doubt that it took place about
his time, so that there is at least a strong probability, under the
circumstances, that it was the result of his influence.
On the first and older class of Hetaera-play, it is useless to dwell
further; a certain vague idea of their general nature is all that can
be gained by the study of their fragments, and the external evidence
as to their character is equally meagre, while the intentional want
of coherence which marked their action makes it obviously absurd to
endeavour in any way to reconstruct them. The character of the second
and, for our purposes, more important class, will be best explained by a
brief examination of one or two striking specimens, the remains of which
are sufficiently important to render it possible to follow their story,
at any rate for a certain distance.
Thus, in the _Campylion_ of Eubulus, we are introduced to two men, one of
whom sighs with quite modern plaintiveness over the heavy burden of his
love for a certain κοσμία ἑταίρα:
τίς ἦν ὁ γράψας πρῶτος ἀνθρώπων ἄρα
ἢ κηροπλαστήσας Ἔρωθ’ ὑπόπτερον;
ὡς οὐδὲν ᾔδει πλὴν χελιδόνας γράφειν,
ἀλλ’ ἦν ἄπειρος τῶν τρόπων τῶν τοῦ θεοῦ.
ἔστιν γὰρ οὔτε κοῦφος οὔτε ῥᾴδιος
ἀπαλλαγῆναι τῷ φέροντι τὴν νόσον,
βαρὺς δὲ κομιδῇ· πῶς ἂν οὖν ἔχοι πτερά
τοιοῦτο πρᾶγμα; λῆρος, εἰ καὶ φησί τις.
(_Fr._ 3 _ap._ Athen. xiii. 562C.)
Through the agency of the friend, who is evidently more of a man of the
world, the lovers meet at a supper party, which was probably at least a
_partie carrée_. Here the friend gives vent to various cynical remarks on
women:—
ὦ γαῖα κεραμί, τίς σε Θηρικλῆς ποτὲ
ἔτευξε κοίλης λαγόνος εὐρύνας βάθος;
ἦ που κατειδὼς τὴν γυναικείαν φύσιν
ὡς οὐχὶ μικροῖς ἥδεται ποτηρίοις.
(_Fr._ 2 _ap._ Athen. xi. 471 E.)
and, evidently a little sceptical as to the inviolable κοσμιότης of the
lady, makes various efforts to induce her to commit herself, either by
eating or drinking to excess[257] (_Fr._ 1, 5), or by displaying her
talents in a questionable “song and dance.” (_Fr._ 6.) His efforts seem,
however, to be unsuccessful, and at the end of the evening the hero is as
hopelessly in love as ever:—
ὡς δ’ ἐδείπνει κοσμίως, he exclaims,
οὐκ ὥσπερ ἄλλαι, τῶν πράσων ποιούμεναι
τολύπας, ἔσαττον τὰς γνάθους καὶ τῶν κρεῶν
ἀπέβρυκον αἰσχρῶς, ἀλλ’ ἑκάστου μικρὸν ἂν
ἀπεγέυεθ’ ὥσπερ παρθένος Μιλησία.
(_Fr._ 4 _ap._ Athen. xiii. 571 F.)
The _dénouement_ of this interesting little story we do not know; let us
hope it was a satisfactory one.
In the _Agonis_ of Alexis again, we find a girl remonstrating with her
mother, who wishes her to accept a rich but dissolute lover in preference
to the νεανίσκος of her choice.
ὦ μῆτερ, ἱκετεύω σε, μὴ ’πίσειέ μοι
τὸν Μισγόλαν· οὐ γὰρ κιθαρῳδός εἰμ’ ἐγώ.
The mother, however, insists, in spite of the young man’s professions of
(imaginary?) wealth (_Fr._ 2), in carrying off her daughter to the rich
lover’s house, where, however, the hero also manages to turn up and make
some cutting remarks on the family portraits (_Fr._ 3).[258] He then
succeeds in making the mother drunk (_Fr._ 4), and so, we are led to
believe—for the end is again veiled in obscurity—is enabled to elude her
vigilance.[259]
Further evidence as to the character of this style of art may be obtained
by studying several of the plays of Plautus, such as the _Truculentus_,
the _Mercator_, or the _Mostellaria_, which seem to have been adapted
directly from Greek works of this class, without being in any way
influenced by the later romantic ideas.
But while the incidents which occur in the individual plays are naturally
of an endless variety, certain broad features are recognisable throughout
this literature.
Firstly, not only is love for an Hetaera enthusiastically praised, but
it is specially described as the one love in life worth loving. The
advantage of the Hetaera over the wife is such a stock subject, that
it will be unnecessary to do more than mention one or two of the most
striking passages in which the feeling finds expression, such as that
cited in Athenaeus, xiii. 559 A, from the _Athamas_ of Amphis:
εἶτ’ οὐ γυναικός ἐστιν εὐνοϊκώτερον
γαμετῆς ἑταίρα; πολύ γε καὶ μάλ’ εἰκότως.
ἡ μὲν νόμῳ γὰρ καταφρονοῦσ’ ἔνδον μένει,
ἡ δ’ οἶδεν ὅτι ἢ τοῖς τρόποις ὠνητέος
ἄνθρωπός ἐστιν ἢ πρὸς ἄλλον ἀπιτέον.
or that quoted in the same place from the _Corinthiastes_ of Philetaerus:
ὡς τακερόν, ὦ Ζεῦ, καὶ μαλακὸν τὸ βλέμμ’ ἔχει.
οὐκ ἐτὸς ἑταίρας ἱερόν ἐστι πανταχοῦ,
ἀλλ’ οὐχὶ γαμετῆς οὐδαμοῦ τῆς Ἑλλάδος.
But this is not all. The advantages of Hetaera-love over adultery are
expounded after a fashion that cannot fail to be startling to anyone who
has not formed a clear conception of what “love” meant in the Athens
of Demosthenes. A striking instance of this occurs in the _Nannion_
of Eubulus,[260] and the same idea is still further developed in the
_Pentathlus_ of Xenarchus.
As for that “love of a man for a maid,” which is, so to speak, the very
essence of the love-element in later Greek literature, it is simply
ignored in Middle Comedy. A girl that one is going to marry has all the
disadvantages of a wife, but for one thing. While the wife _in esse_ is,
as a later writer feelingly expresses it, “an immortal necessary evil,”
and, therefore, cannot be altogether escaped from, there is no need to
meet troubles halfway by drawing attention to the wife _in posse_. Let us
eat and drink, for to-morrow we marry; and while we do so, let us have no
Alexandrian skeleton at the feast to remind us of the fatal hour. And so,
if the question be asked, “What did the Middle Comedy writers think of
such love?” the answer is, “They did not think of it at all.”[261]
And this will serve to introduce us to a further question, in the answer
to which lies the key to the whole of this part of our subject. What
is actually meant by the “love” which we hear so often expressed for
these Hetaerae? The answer may be simple and brief: _ornari res ipsa
vetat, contenta doceri_: the love of the Middle Comedy is animal passion,
pure and simple; the Hetaera caters for the appetites of the time in
exactly the same way, even if in a different sphere, as the cook and the
fishmonger, of whom we also hear so much, both to praise and blame, in
this literature.[262] Of love in the modern sense of the word, of love as
distinct from lust, there is nowhere any suggestion in the writers of the
Middle Comedy. This fact is so patent to anyone who is familiar with the
plays of this period, that one may, perhaps, be spared the trouble of its
illustration. If anyone is inclined to doubt it, let him open the third
volume of Meineke’s _Comic Fragments_ at random, and read; he will soon
be satisfied.
When this is the case, it is not surprising that we find “Platonic” love
held up to consistent ridicule during the time of the Middle Comedy. A
sufficiently striking example of this method is the passage quoted in
Athenaeus, xiii. 563 C, from the _Dithyrambus_ of Amphis:
τί φῄς; σὺ ταυτὶ προσδοκᾷς πείθειν ἐμέ,
ὡς ἔστ’ ἐραστὴς ὅστις, ὡραῖον φιλῶν,
τρόπων ἐραστής ἐστι, τὴν ὄψιν παρείς;
ἄφρων γ’ ἀληθῶς. κ.τ.λ.
[_Fr._ 2.]
But the clearest proof of all is that furnished by the fact that Plato
himself, and Sappho, whose style of love was, as we have already had
occasion to observe,[263] recognised as similar in spirit to that
advocated by the philosopher, are, perhaps, the two favourite butts
for the wit of the Middle Comedy. That the _Plato_ of Aristophon, like
the _Hedychares_ of Theopompus, of which we have already spoken, and
the _Sapphos_ of Antiphanes, Amphis, Ephippus, and Timocles, were, at
least some of them, in part devoted to this subject, it seems only
reasonable to believe, while sporadic allusions to the matter are,
of course, sufficiently common. The one possible exception to this
general rule appears in the _Helene_ of Alexis, where a character is
introduced upholding the Platonic view of love; but it would be bold,
in the face of so much evidence on the other side, to assert that this
isolated statement in any way indicates the general tone of the comedy in
question. It is far more likely that the champion of these views (perhaps
Theseus[264]) was made to see the error of his ways and repent his lost
opportunities before the play was out.
And akin in spirit to the above is the tendency, so common that it hardly
needs special illustration, to throw ridicule on the married state and on
family life in general.[265] When the man, who is called the originator
of the erotic element in Middle Comedy, can write words like these:
ὅστις γαμεῖν βουλεύετ’, οὐ βουλεύεται
ὀρθῶς, διότι βουλεύεται χοὔτω γαμεῖ,
(Anaxandrides, _Incert._ 1.)
and mean them, there can be little doubt as to the tendency of that
erotic element which he was the first to introduce. In fact, not only
is marriage a favourite subject of ridicule, but it is one on which the
writers of this period make some of their happiest remarks. There are few
things in Antiphanes as good as the passage in the _Philopator_, where
one man, meeting another, enquires after a friend, and hears that he has
got married.
τί σὺ λέγεις; he exclaims in horror. ἀληθινῶς
γεγάμηκεν, ὃν ἐγὼ ζῶντα περιπατοῦντά τε
κατέλιπον;
Alexis is seldom as amusing as when he proclaims (_Incert._ 34) marriage
worse than disfranchisement.
εἶτ’ οὐχὶ κρεῖττόν ἐστι τῷ γ’ ἔχοντι νοῦν
ἄτιμον εἶναι μᾶλλον ἢ γυναῖκ’ ἔχειν;
πολλῷ γε· τοὺς μὲν γοῦν ἀτίμους οὐκ ἐᾷ
ἀρχὴν λαχόντας ὁ νόμος ἄρχειν τῶν πέλας·
ἐπὰν δὲ γήμῃς, οὐδὲ σαυτοῦ κύριον
ἔξεστιν εἶναι.
Such, then, is the erotic element of the Middle Comedy—the praise of
sensuality and the ridicule of all that is ennobling or virtuous. Alexis
tells us all when he says:
τὰς ἡδονὰς δεῖ συλλέγειν τὸν σώφρονα.
τρεῖς δ’ εἰσὶν αἵ γε τὴν δύναμιν κεκτημέναι
τὴν ὡς ἀληθῶς συντελοῦσαν τῷ βίῳ,
τὸ πιεῖν, τὸ φαγεῖν, τὸ τῆς Ἀφροδίτης τυγχάνειν.
τὰ δ’ ἄλλα προσθήκας ἅπαντα χρὴ καλεῖν.
(_Incert._ 31.)
_Processit Vesper Olympo._ It was time the Macedonian barbarians swept
all this away and made place for cleaner things.[266]
VIII. THE NEW COMEDY.
The feeling on passing from the Middle to the New Comedy is like the
fresh air on coming out of the bar of a public-house. The Middle Comedy
is the last decaying branch of the old literature; the romantic New
Comedy is one of the earliest and most vigorous offshoots of that new
literature which sprang from the genius of Antimachus, and has continued
to the present day. In the Middle Comedy, we are still face to face with
the women of typical Athens, with the women of Aristophanes, at best with
the women of Euripides,—and with the way in which typical Athens treated
these women; in the New Comedy this is changed, and woman—the woman that
can be loved as wife and mother—steps into her true place as object of,
and partner in, the intensest and the purest passions of which humanity
is capable.
It will be remembered that the Middle Comedy treatment, of women and love
for women, had four main characteristics.
(1) The glorification of the Hetaera and of love for the Hetaera.
(2) The purely sensual nature of the love thus extolled.
(3) The ridicule of all love that was not sensual.
(4) The ridicule of family-life.
The New Comedy flatly contradicts every one of these principles. The love
of which it treats is love for a _virgin_,[267] and the consummation of
this love is _marriage_. Such love is by no means purely sensual; indeed,
at times it is almost of a “Platonic” character. And lastly, not only
is the sanctity of marriage strictly insisted upon, and the advantages
of marriage as a system strongly maintained, but the family relations,
anyhow among the younger generation, are often of a very pleasant
character.
In fact, while the action of the Middle Comedy is concerned with a love,
the consummation of which is a temporary sensual gratification, the
action of the New Comedy is supplied by the efforts of its heroes and
their adherents, to secure that the love which occupies so much of their
thoughts may be made at once legitimate and permanent. It was New Comedy
that first introduced on the stage the love of a life, as opposed to
the love of an hour. If anyone were to ask what was the chief merit of
Menander, the answer would be that he was the first to show the Athenians
that “love for ever,” with which every poetaster and novel-reader has
now been familiar for so many centuries.
But the differences between the treatment of women in the new literature,
and that to which they were exposed in the literature we have just been
studying, will be most readily made clear if we proceed at once to the
detailed examination of the former.
The first and most prominent feature of the New Comedy treatment of the
love of men for women is its insistance on marriage—that is to say,
on a definite guarantee of permanence and constancy—as the one proper
consummation of such love. In fact, as we have already had occasion to
observe in another place, the idealisation of marriage is the basis of
Greek romance.[268]
This insistance on marriage is, of course, most strikingly exemplified
in the typical New Comedy plot, which is sufficiently familiar to every
student of the Latin comedians. Thus, in five of these Latin plays, the
_Heauton Timorumenos_ (of Menander), the _Phormio_ (of Apollodorus),
the _Rudens_ (of Diphilus), the _Curculio_, and the _Poenulus_,[269]
the story is of exactly the kind that subsequently appears in the Greek
novel—a young man falls in love with a virgin, and, after various
misfortunes which threaten to separate the pair, they are eventually
married, and live happily ever afterwards.
On this class of plot it is unnecessary to dwell, except that it may be
worth while just to draw attention to the extremely passionate nature
of the love which makes these young men so anxious to marry. The modern
reader would instinctively expect that the confinement of love to these
legitimate and, as one would now consider them, commonplace channels,
would inevitably lead to a lessening of its charm, and a diminution of
its force. As a matter of fact, the result was the very reverse. Not only
has the character of man’s love for woman changed, but this love has
developed an intensity of poetry and passion which has never belonged
to it before.[270] Instances are easy to find; the most striking one
is perhaps shown us at the meeting of Phaedromus and Planesium, in the
_Curculio_ (i. 3):
PL. tene me, amplectere ergo! PH. hoc etiam est quamobrem cupiam
vivere.
quia te prohibet herus, clam hero potior. PL. prohibet, nec prohibere
quit,
nec prohibebit, nisi mors meum animum abs te abalienaverit.
PH. sibi sua habeant regna reges, sibi divitias divites,
sibi honores sibi virtutes sibi pugnas sibi proelia!
dum mi abstineant invidere, sibi quisque habeant quod suum est![271]
But there are others, almost equally forcible, in the _Rudens_ (iv.
8)—where particular enthusiasm is expressed at the prospect of marriage,
as opposed to the relation which had previously been the lover’s highest
possible ideal,—the _Poenulus_ (v. 4, 49)[272], and elsewhere.
But another and equally important type of story is that in which the man
first seduces the woman, and then subsequently marries her. Plays of
this description are the _Andria_, the _Eunuchus_, the _Adelphi_ (all by
Menander), the _Aulularia_, and the _Cistellaria_.[273]
Of these, the _Cistellaria_ is different from the rest. Here, the girl
Silenium, who, though supposed to be the daughter of a _lena_, has been
brought up as a virgin (i. 3, 24), is induced by a promise of marriage to
live with the man Alcesimarchus, a promise which is afterwards fulfilled
only after a considerable delay. (i. 1, 90-100.) In the other four cases,
however—and this is very important—the promise of marriage is subsequent
to the seduction, and takes the form, not of an inducement to, but of a
reparation for the latter. The lover regards the seduction as a crime,
for which he is willing to make amends to the utmost of his power, while
at the same time he is anxious to perpetuate and legalise his amour.
He therefore adopts what we are accustomed in modern times to call an
“honourable course,” and offers marriage to the woman whom he has loved
and still loves. The importance of this feature is twofold—firstly,
the close association thus brought about between marriage and love of
the most “romantic” and unconventional description; and secondly, the
perpetuation and legalisation of a form of love which is obviously by
nature temporary and illegitimate. And thus the love-stories of the New
Comedy may be said to begin where those of the Middle Comedy end; while
the heroes of the latter are concerned with achieving the temporary
satisfaction of their sensual desires, the heroes of the former are
occupied in striving to make permanent atonement for the indiscretions
which such desires have led them to commit.
To quote instances of what has been said: in the _Andria_ the promise
of marriage is distinctly an act of reparation, which the lover feels
himself in duty bound to make. This is evident from the argument of
Sulpicius Apollinaris,[274] and from various passages in the play.[275]
The same is the case in the _Adelphi_.[276] Here Aeschinus, as soon as
he considers what he has done, comes to the mother of Pamphila, and
begs with tears to be allowed to marry her by way of reparation.[277]
In the _Aulularia_, the petition of Lyconides to the miser Euclio is
animated by a very similar spirit.[278] In the _Eunuchus_ (which is,
it must be remembered, the love-story of a boy of sixteen)[279], there
is no opportunity for any such behaviour on the part of Chaerea, though
his sincere regret (ii. 3, 33 _seqq._), and his enthusiasm when the
possibility of marriage becomes apparent (v. 8, 1 _seqq._), show clearly
enough that he is not intended to be an exception to the general rule.
It must not, however, be supposed that the feeling, which prompts the
various characters of whom we have spoken to make reparation for their
wrongdoing, is merely a feeling of repentance, or a regard for public
opinion. It is love, and love of a most passionate kind, that makes them
so anxious to marry the women they have wronged. Of the enthusiasm of
the hero of the _Eunuchus_ at the prospect of marriage we have already
spoken; in the _Adelphi_, Aeschinus is equally elated under similar
circumstances;[280] in the _Aulularia_, the anxiety and persistency
of Lyconides are evidently inspired by the same feeling;[281] in the
_Andria_, Pamphilus protests that nothing short of death will divide him
from Glycerium.[282] That love which the Middle Comedy could not conceive
of as outliving its sensual gratification, appears in the New Comedy, not
weakened, but strengthened by time, and obstacles only serve to make the
lover more determined to perpetuate and to legalise those emotions which
had, to a previous generation, owed their chief charm to their freedom
from the restraints of constancy and propriety.
In the _Hecyra_ again, it is by marriage that, through a strange
coincidence, the hero is eventually able to repair the wrong done to the
heroine. In the _Stichus_, too, the plot turns on the constancy of two
wives to their absent husbands,[283] while, in the _Trinummus_, there
seems strong reason to believe, that it is not all love for Lesbonicus
which makes Lysiteles so anxious to marry the former’s sister.[284]
To this evidence from the plays themselves may be added some further
evidence of a more general kind. Marriage is mentioned by the anonymous
author of the epigram in the _C. I. G._ 6083, as the most characteristic
feature of Menander’s plays—
φαιδρὸν ἑταῖρον Ἔρωτος ὁρᾷς, σειρῆνα θεάτρων,
τόνδε Μένανδρον, ἀεὶ κρᾶτα πνκαζόμενον,
οὕνεκ’ ἄρ’ ἀνθρώπους ἱλαρὸν βίον ἐξεδίδαξεν,
ἡδύνας σκηνὴν δράμασι πᾶσι γάμῳ.
Still more emphatic is the testimony of Plutarch, who asserts (_Sympos._
vii. 712 C) that Menander is peculiarly suited for married men to hear
and read—
ἔχει δὲ καὶ τὰ ἐρωτικὰ παρ’ αὐτῷ καιρὸν πεπωκόσιν ἀνθρώποις καὶ
ἀναπαυσαμένοις μετὰ μικρὸν ἀπιοῦσι παρὰ τὰς ἑαυτῶν γυναῖκας ...
αἵ τε φθοραὶ τῶν παρθένων εἰς γάμον ἐπιεικῶς καταστρέφουσι.
κ.τ.λ.
Indeed, the essentially “proper” character of the Menandrean drama
is emphasised by more than one ancient writer. That Comedy could be
anything but indecent was a revelation to Athens of the fourth century,
and it was a revelation for which she does not seem to have been
particularly grateful; but the fact that it was a writer whose works were
fit “pueris virginibusque legi,” who revolutionized the dramatic art, is
one that a modern student of that revolution cannot afford to forget.[285]
Two of the plays mentioned above, the _Hecyra_ and the _Stichus_, lead
naturally to the consideration of another feature of the New Comedy
treatment of marriage—a feature which, though less strongly marked than
that of which we have just been speaking, is yet, if one considers
what Greek feeling had previously been on this matter, perhaps even
more remarkable. Not only is marriage held up as the lover’s ideal,
but the actual married state is described as a state of happiness, and
married people, even those who have been married for some time, are
introduced to us as strongly attached to one another. How complete a
revolution in Greek feeling such a state as this implies, need hardly
be emphasised.[286] Yet, in the _Stichus_, we have a plot based on the
determination of two women to remain faithful to their husbands (who
have been absent for three years) in spite of the efforts of their
father to induce them to do otherwise; they insist on remaining faithful,
though their husbands are poor (Plaut. _Stich._ i. 2, 75 _seqq._), and
though they are uncertain whether their devotion is returned (i. 1, 36
_seqq._). In the _Hecyra_ again, it is the behaviour of Philumena after
marriage which wins her husband’s heart (Ter. _Hec._ i. 2, 85 _seqq._)—a
remarkably modern form of love-story.
Various fragments, too, of Menander have a similar import, such as the
famous passage from the _Misogynes_ on the advantages of marriage—
ἐλθόντ’ εἰς νόσον
τὸν ἔχοντα ταύτην ἐθεράπευσεν ἐπιμελῶς,
ἀτυχοῦντι συμπαρέμεινεν, ἀποθανόντα τε
ἔθαψε, περιέστειλεν οἰκείως. (_Fr._ 1, 9.)
or Menand. _Incert._ 73, where the husband takes up the cudgels in his
wife’s behalf. _Incert._ 101, again, dwells on the close relationship
existing between man and wife—
οἰκεῖον οὕτως οὐδέν ἐστιν, ὦ Λάχης,
ἐὰν σκοπῇ τις, ὡς ἀνήρ τε καὶ γυνή,
_Incert._ 100 points out that a wife must rule her husband by love—
ἕν ἐστ’ ἀληθὲς φίλτρον, εὐγνώμων τρόπος.
τούτῳ κατακρατεῖν ἀνδρὸς εἴωθεν γυνή,
and a careful reader will have no difficulty in finding other more or
less important examples of the same spirit, both in Menander and in the
Latin Comedians.
One important exception there is, of course, to this state of affairs,
and that is the relation between the old men and their wives. The types
of the hen-pecked husband and the Xanthippe-like wife are too familiar
to need illustration. But here it is to be observed, that the husbands
who appear in this position, are always old or elderly men, and this
fact is probably not without its significance. In describing his elderly
married men as unhappy, Menander was ridiculing, not marriage, but the
_mariages de convenance_ which had, before his time, been the regular
thing at Athens. “These men are unhappy,” says Menander, “not because
they are married, but because they have married wives whom they never
loved, and whom they chose merely because of their money, or to please
their relations. If they had married for love, the case might well
have been different.” And thus the hen-pecked husband, who belongs to
the old _régime_, is only a further argument in favour of the romantic
love-matches of which Menander approved.
Of course the matter did not stop here. It was so easy to raise a laugh
with a row between husband and wife, that Comedy was sure not to abandon
the subject, even after its _raison d’être_ had disappeared; and a modern
audience, we know, is just as ready to laugh at the husband who has lost
his latch-key as were the Athenians of the fourth century. But the point
to be remembered is, that a pair of characters like Chremes and Sostrata
in the _Heauton Timorumenus_, or Laches and Sostrata in the _Hecyra_,
furnishes no real argument against the view that Menander and his
followers of the New Comedy regarded marriage, if properly entered upon,
as a state of happiness.
Another exception, and one that is perhaps in reality a more important
one, is furnished by Menander’s _Misogynes_, a work which gained very
great popularity, doubtless owing to the way in which it appealed to the
lower instincts of the audience whom its author was trying to educate
up; but here it has to be observed that, in the first place, as the
play is lost, it is impossible to say what the actual _dénouement_ was;
while, secondly, there was no reason why a man of Menander’s versatile
genius should not for once treat the subject of married life in an
unusual manner, without in any way abandoning his general views on the
subject.[287]
A further feature of the New Comedy treatment of marriage is the
universal respect for its sanctity.[288] The adulterer, who is the
favourite hero of mediaeval romance, is here invariably held up to
contempt and hatred. The most familiar instance of this is, of course,
the story in the _Miles Gloriosus_ of Plautus, but it is far from
being an isolated one. The _Halieis_ of Menander evidently treated
of a somewhat similar subject,[289] which appears once more in the
_Eunuchus_.[290] In the _Andria_ again, Charinus is horror-stricken at
the idea of committing adultery with the woman he loves, though, when
accused of seducing the same woman, his only regret is that he cannot
plead guilty to the charge.[291] An even more remarkable instance,
and one perhaps without parallel, is furnished by the _Hecyra_, where
the Hetaera Bacchis asserts that she had refused to admit her lover,
Pamphilus, as soon as she learned that he was married.[292] It may be
argued, of course, that she did this out of pique, but the very cordial
nature of the meeting between the two (Ter. _Hec._ v. 4, 16, _seqq._),
and the fact that Bacchis knew that her lover had abandoned her sorely
against his will (i. 2, 45 _seqq._), and was still devoted to her (i. 2,
82), seem to suggest that this is not the most natural explanation of her
conduct.[293]
The passages just described may serve to introduce us to a further
feature of our subject—a feature in which the New Comedy is, if possible,
even more remarkably unlike the Middle Comedy than in those which have
already been discussed. In the Middle Comedy, as we have already had
frequent occasion to observe, the wife and the husband are invariably
held up to ridicule when compared with the Hetaera and her lover; in the
New Comedy we may find this position exactly reversed. Instances are
rare, (as is indeed to be expected, when we consider, in the first place,
the strong current of popular feeling on the subject, and, secondly, the
personal relations between the leading writers of the New Comedy and the
prominent Hetaerae of the time,) but they do unquestionably occur. The
most striking example is perhaps that in the _Heauton Timorumenus_, where
not only is the Hetaera contrasted unfavourably with the virgin, (as she
herself admits,)[294] but her lover is made consistently ridiculous as
compared with the lover who contemplates marriage, and in the end comes
off badly in the extreme. Very similar evidence is furnished by the
_Hecyra_. In the struggle for the love of Pamphilus, which takes place
in that play between the wife and the Hetaera, the former is completely
successful, and her victory is gained by sheer amiability of temper (Ter.
_Hec._ i. 2, 85 _seqq._); indeed, so charming is she, that the Hetaera
is driven in the end to congratulate her husband on his good fortune in
having married her. (v. 4, 22.) And this victory of the wife becomes the
more remarkable, when we observe that the Hetaera is evidently intended
to be a very favourable specimen of her class, in every way deserving of
the lover she is compelled to lose.[295]
While on this point, it may not be amiss to remark that it is by no means
impossible that the famous _Thais_ of Menander really belonged to this
class of plays, and that the Hetaera, who gives her name to the piece,
is intended as a _parody_ on the typical Hetaera of Middle Comedy. This
view, which is not improbable in itself, receives some support from the
mock-heroic tone of _Fr._ 1 of the _Thais_,[296] and still more from
Mart. xiv. 187;[297] but cannot, of course, be regarded as more than a
possible suggestion.[298]
Of mere vulgar ridicule or abuse of the ordinary Hetaera, as
heartless,[299] mercenary,[300] and the like, there is, of course,
enough and to spare; but it would be unjustifiable to claim expressions
such as these as distinctive of New Comedy, in the face of passages like
Epicrates, _Antilais_, 2, or Anaxilas, _Neottis_, 1. Menander indeed
makes a more serious charge, perhaps, when one of his characters asserts
that an Hetaera cannot be good, for she makes a trade of sin:
οὐδέποθ’ ἑταίρα τοῦ καλῶς πεφρόντικεν,
ἣ τὸ κακόηθες πρόσοδον εἴωθεν ποιεῖν.
(_Incert._ 107.)
This is, however, an isolated expression, for Menand. _Incert._ 36, at
first sight similar, is really different.
But, though the writers of the New Comedy are careful, as a general rule,
to avoid anything that might have seemed too severe a stricture on that
system of Hetaera-worship which was so distinctive a feature of the age,
they are unmistakably emphatic in their assertion that such sensual love
is not the only kind of love of which a man is capable. The chivalrous
manner in which the lover of New Comedy often behaves to his lady, is one
of the clearest features of the change which the authors of the romantic
school had succeeded in bringing about on the Athenian stage.
At once the most striking and the most perplexing illustration of this
is furnished by the character of Thrasonides in Menander’s celebrated
play, the _Misumenus_. This Thrasonides, who belongs to the regular type
of the _Miles Gloriosus_, is in love with a slave-girl, whom he has
obtained in the course of his wars;[301] but he has so disgusted her
with his boasting (like Leontichus in Lucian) that she has conceived a
most violent hatred for him. He then, though she is his slave, and though
his passion is so great that he cannot sleep for thinking of her,[302]
instead of using his undoubted power to accomplish what he wishes,[303]
tries every means that he can imagine in order to conciliate her,
“sending her gifts, and weeping, and praying,”[304] that she may look
more favourably upon him.
The _dénouement_ of the play is lost. It is not impossible that in the
end the slave-girl was identified as an Athenian, and carried off by some
more acceptable lover, who thus profited by the chivalrous conduct of
his rival, or she may even have turned out to be the soldier’s sister,
as in the _Curculio_ or the _Epidicus_, in either of which cases the
scruples of Thrasonides would be necessary to the working of the plot.
But all this is, for our present purpose, of no importance. What is of
importance, and of the utmost importance, is the fact that Thrasonides,
though he is so violently in love with the girl, will not make use of his
unquestioned power to gratify this passion, because of the dislike which
she feels for him. In fact, his love is of such a kind that he does not
merely want to satisfy a sensual appetite—he wants to be loved. Unless
he can feel that she loves him, none of those privileges, which, to the
ordinary Hetaera-lover of the day, would have been of themselves the
complete consummation of love, are of any value to him. ἔξεστί μοι τοῦτο
καὶ βούλομαι, οὐ ποιῶ δέ.
The aim of the lover is not to gratify himself, but to inspire love.[305]
That we are here face to face with a form of love which is not only
actually absent from Middle Comedy, but is by nature absolutely foreign
to that literature and could not possibly appear in it, is too obvious to
need further emphasis.[306]
This much, then, is clear; but there remains a most perplexing question,
which, though it is a little aside of our immediate subject, is yet too
interesting to be passed by altogether. Why is it Thrasonides, the _Miles
Gloriosus_ whom all the Comedians are banded together to ridicule, who
appears as the most chivalrous lover of the whole of New Comedy?[307]
Why is a man who is universally regarded as a fool, made to give
expression to such elevated sentiments, and to follow such a noble line
of conduct? The first explanation that suggests itself is, of course,
“Because he is a fool.” This view is certainly advanced in a passage
of Plutarch, where Thrasonides is compared to the miser who starves
rather than make use of the food he has in the house,[308] and seems to
find favour too with Thrasonides’ own slave.[309] But this explanation
is not a very satisfactory one, somehow. However great a fool Menander
might wish to make of the mercenary soldier of the time, this does not
seem the natural line for his folly to take, nor was it the line, as we
know from historical evidence, that the folly of these people actually
did as a rule take. A Pyrgopolinices must, one would have thought, have
been a far more familiar figure to citizens who had enjoyed a Macedonian
occupation, than a Thrasonides. One might, perhaps, imagine that the
behaviour of Alexander to the wife and daughters of Darius—behaviour
which was regarded in Greece as somewhat remarkable[310]—had suggested
the character of Thrasonides, for, after all, the ideal soldier of
the age, whether for good or evil, is always Alexander; only it seems
doubtful whether a single action of an unusual kind could serve to form
so constant a type as the chivalrous soldier-lover. At one time I thought
that, as the soldier of New Comedy has generally served in Asia, perhaps
he might be supposed to have imported his advanced romantic ideas from
one of those Greek Asiatic cities which were, as we know, the original
home of Greek romance, and indeed of all important developments of Greek
erotic literature.[311] But there is to modern notions so great an
incongruity in the idea of, say, the Colonel of a West India regiment so
influenced by the latest school of literature as to model his life on it,
that, though such a character would not, perhaps, have seemed so absurd
to the Greeks as it does to us, still, in the absence of all definite
evidence, I have preferred not to lay undue stress upon what is, after
all, entirely a matter of conjecture. Indeed, the question remains to me
a very obscure one, and I cannot at present see any satisfactory solution
of it.
But, whatever may have been the causes which led to the creation of this
particular character, the soldier-lover of a more or less Thrasonides
type is an unquestionable feature of New Comedy. Besides the hero of
the _Misumenus_, of whom we have spoken, in the _Sicyonius_ (also by
Menander) we find another soldier, Stratophanes, who buys a slave-girl,
and then treats her as if she were a free woman.[312] To the same class
of feeling, though expressed in a somewhat different way, belongs the
remorse which the soldier Polemon (in the _Periceiromene_ of Menander)
feels for the wrong he has done to his αἰχμαλώτῳ ἐρωμένῃ.
A case in some respects similar, though in others different, is that of
the soldier Stratippocles, in the _Epidicus_, who falls in love with his
captive, but does not touch her.[313] The differences, of course, here
are that, firstly, the play belongs to Middle Comedy, its moral being
that Stratippocles will be happier with his _fidicina_ than with the girl
of high birth, for whom he has formed the chivalrous attachment;[314]
while, secondly, the continence of the hero is not so much a feature
of his character as a necessity for the development of the plot; and,
thirdly, the soldier is here not a mercenary, but an Athenian citizen,
who has been fighting against the Thebans. But though, therefore,
the case of the _Epidicus_ does not belong to the same category as
those previously discussed, the association in it of the soldier with
chivalrous behaviour towards women is yet worthy of notice, and, even if
only a coincidence, is still an interesting one.[315]
Apart, too, from these very remarkable instances, there are not a few
passages scattered about in the remains of the New Comedy which serve to
show that the “love,” of which there is so much talk in that literature,
is not the merely animal passion of an earlier period. Of these, a
striking one is that preserved in Plutarch, _ap._ Stob. _Flor._ lxiii. 34:
τῶν Μενάνδρου δραμάτων, says Plutarch there, οὐκ ἴσως ἁπάντων
ἓν συνεκτικόν ἐστιν ὁ ἔρως, οἷον πνεῦμα κοινὸν διακεχυκώς; ὃν
οὖν μάλιστα θιασώτην τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ ὀργιαστὴν ἴσμεν, τὸν ἄνδρα
συνεπιλαμβάνωμεν εἰς τὴν ζήτησιν, ἐπεὶ καὶ λελάκηκε περὶ τοῦ
πάθους φιλοσοφώτερον. ἄξιον γὰρ εἶναι θαύματος φήσας τὸ περὶ
τοὺς ἐρῶντας, ὥσπερ ἐστὶν ἅμα λαλεῖ. εἶτα ἀπορεῖ καὶ ζητεῖ πρὸς
ἑαυτόν·
τίνι δεδούλωταί (sc. ὁ ἐραστής) ποτε;
ὄψει; φλύαρος. κ.τ.λ....
... καιρός ἐστιν ἡ νόσος
ψυχῆς.
(Menand. _Incert._ 14.)
That is: Menander, a writer familiar with love in its most passionate
forms (θιασώτην καὶ ὀργιαστήν), gives us a sober and serious view of
the matter. After expressing his astonishment at the ways of lovers, he
furnishes us with a realistic account of love as it actually is (ὥσπερ
ἐστὶν ἅμα λαλεῖ),[316] and then proceeds to investigate its causes. For a
moment he is puzzled, and questions with himself, but soon he finds the
true answer. καιρός ἐστιν ἡ νόσος ψυχῆς. Love is an affection of the soul
as distinct from the body, and has only an accidental connection with the
latter.[317]
Equally forcible, though in another way, is a passage from the
_Poenulus_. The lover and his slave are watching the two girls, and
the slave expresses his utter contempt for his master’s “Platonic”
affection, to which the latter answers that he loves Adelphasium as
he loves the gods.[318] Another case is in the _Curculio_, where the
love of Phaedromus for Planesium is fed on nothing more substantial
than kisses;[319] another in the _Hecyra_, where it is distinctly
pointed out that the love of Pamphilus for his wife is induced by other
than sensual considerations.[320] Other instances, of more or less
significance, every reader of the Latin comedians will be able to supply
for himself; and it is further worth observing that when a New Comedy
character, as occasionally does happen, is made to speak slightingly of
“Platonic” love, such a character is always a slave, never a person of
refinement.[321]
To proceed to the final point of essential difference between Middle
and New Comedy, it will be remembered that, in the former class of
literature, family life and the mutual relations of members of a family
were among the stock subjects of ridicule, and that no remarks expressive
of any other views on this matter are to be found there, at any rate
before a very late period.[322] Family life, as depicted in the New
Comedy, is by no means ideal; indeed, as we have already had occasion
to remark, the unhappy relations between husband and elderly wife are,
under certain circumstances, a favourite subject of ridicule, even with
Menander.[323] But yet instances to the contrary are to be found, and
are, in fact, by no means very uncommon. Not to speak of the cases of
devotion of wife to husband and husband to wife—such as those in the
_Stichus_, &c., already sufficiently discussed[324]—the relations between
father and children, and, still more, mother and children,[325] are often
described as of the most delightful character.
Of the former, there are interesting examples in Menand. _Incert._ 59:
αἰσχύνομαι τὸν πατέρα, Κλειτοφῶν, μόνον,
ἀντιβλέπειν ἐκεῖνον οὐ δυνήσομαι
ἀδικῶν· τὰ δ’ ἄλλα ῥᾳδίως χειρώσομαι.
_Incert._ 108:
ὁ σκληρότατος πρὸς υἱὸν ἐν τῷ νουθετεῖν
τοῖς μὲν λόγοις πικρός ἐστι, τοῖς δ’ ἔργοις πατήρ.
_Incert._ 113:
μηδὲν ὀδύνα τὸν πατέρα, γιγνώσκων ὅτι
ὁ μέγιστον ἀγαπῶν δι’ ἐλάχιστ’ ὀργίζεται.
_Incert._ 117:
οὐδέποτ’ ἀληθὲς οὐδὲν οὔθ’ υἱῷ πατὴρ
εἴωθ’ ἀπειλεῖν, οὔτ’ ἐρῶν ἐρωμένῃ.[326]
The charming interview between the father and his two daughters in the
_Stichus_ (i. 2, 32 _seqq._), is a further, equally striking instance.
Of the latter relation, that between mother and children, there is a
good instance in this same play (i. 2, 51), where, after the father has
propounded his intention of marrying again, his daughter reminds him that
it will be hard for him to find a second wife like his first.
AN. pol ego uxorem quaero, postquam vostra mater mortua est.
PA. facile invenies et peiorem et peius moratam, pater,
quam illa fuit; meliorem neque tu reperies neque sol videt.
A still more striking case is that in the _Hecyra_, where the mother of
Pamphilus, thinking that it is her presence which renders it impossible
for her son’s wife to live with him, resolves to sacrifice herself, and
go into voluntary exile into the country.[327] The same idea, though
less pleasantly expressed, is apparent in Syrus’ remark in the _Heauton
Timorumenus_ (v. 2, 38):
matres omnes filiis
in peccato adiutrices, auxilio in paterna iniuria.
But it is needless to multiply instances of a state of affairs with
which every attentive reader of Plautus and Terence must be sufficiently
familiar.[328]
IX. THE ORIGINS OF THE ROMANTIC COMEDY.
The above investigation into the nature of New Comedy, and into the
points of difference between it and the earlier literature, leads
naturally to the consideration of a further and final question—that of
the origin of these differences which are so strikingly apparent. We
have seen that the romantic New Comedy differs entirely in its treatment
of women from every form of dramatic art which had preceded it.[329] In
fact, we have seen that, while the Middle Comedy belongs still entirely
to the first or classical period of Greek literature, the New Comedy,
with its striking romantic features, belongs essentially to that second
period, which it is usual to call the Alexandrian, and forms, indeed, one
of the departments of literature in which the romantic tendencies of that
period can be studied to the best advantage. What we have to consider is
therefore this: How did Athenian Comedy acquire these romantic features
which are so conspicuously absent from its earlier phases? when did it
acquire them? and to whom was the acquisition due?
The last of these three questions may be best considered first. There
seems every reason to believe that this introduction of the romantic
element was due to Menander rather than to Philemon.[330] There can be
no question that of the two writers, Philemon is the less distinctively
romantic. Of the typical New Comedy love-stories preserved in Plautus
and Terence, not one professes to be derived from him. The allusions to
women altogether are proportionately much fewer in his fragments than in
those of Menander; while a large proportion, again, of such allusions
as there are, are either references to Hetaerae, or else belong to the
old-fashioned misogyny of Middle Comedy. The detailed examination of his
style of art, which occurs in the _Florida_ of Apuleius, is altogether
strongly suggestive of Middle Comedy;[331] indeed, Apuleius actually
describes him as “mediae comoediae scriptor.” It is further to be
remarked that the number of coarse allusions to women is proportionately
far greater in Philemon than in Menander. Indeed, the whole study of
Philemon’s treatment of women leaves one with the impression, not only
that he was at heart a follower of the old school, but that even when
he did for any reason adopt the romantic principle, he developed this
principle from a more sensual point of view than Menander. That this
tendency to coarseness is in sympathy with the earlier spirit of Athenian
comedy, but is entirely foreign to its romantic development, need hardly
be emphasised, after all that has already been said on the subject. And
it may not be altogether beside the question here, to call attention
to Philemon’s invariable pessimism—pessimism most characteristic of a
conservative mind in an age of progress, but hardly consistent with such
qualities as would be required of the originator of a great artistic
and social revolution.[332] Furthermore, Philemon is regularly spoken
of as the rival of Menander;[333] the reverse is never the case,
notwithstanding the fact that the relative ages of the two playwrights
would have made the latter the more natural way of putting the case.
Again, the much greater success of Philemon at the time, notwithstanding
the well-nigh unanimous contrary verdict of subsequent ages,[334] seems
to show clearly that he was the more old-fashioned of the two; for, as
is well known, originality is seldom very welcome on the stage. And
lastly, the very large proportion of Philemon’s works which appear to
have belonged to Middle Comedy pure and simple—a point which will be
further discussed directly—seems to be further evidence that this was
his natural _métier_, and that it was only a spirit of rivalry with
Menander which made him turn his attention to a style of art with which
he had no real sympathy.[335] As for the _Hypobolimaeus_, that proves
nothing, for there is no evidence whatever by which to fix the date of
this resuscitation of the _Cocalus_ of Aristophanes; indeed, if anything,
it rather suggests that Philemon found such subjects so little congenial,
that he had to borrow his materials, instead of being able to produce
them himself.
All this, it may be argued, proves little as to the claims of Menander
over Philemon. Indeed, it may even be urged that the very fact that
Philemon is the less distinctively romantic of the two, renders it
probable that the first introduction of the romantic element was due
to him. But such an argument, though at first sight plausible enough,
rests on an imperfect comprehension of the real nature of the romantic
principle in Greek comedy. Were this principle a direct development of
tendencies characteristic of the earlier phases of the literature, it
would doubtless be right to assume that its first appearance in any
tangible shape would be of an unemphatic and tentative kind; but the
romantic principle is no such development of previous tendencies. It is
not a development, but a regeneration; it is not a growth from within,
but an annex from without. Whatever anyone may suppose to be the origin
of the romantic element, no one with any acquaintance with the subject
is likely to wish to maintain that the virgin-love of New Comedy is
developed out of the Hetaera-worship of its predecessor on the stage.
Indeed, there can be little doubt that, so far from New Comedy appealing
to those tastes which Middle Comedy had fostered, its remarkable success
was in great part due to a strong reaction against the latter. And thus
there is every reason to believe that, when once the new emotion found
expression on the stage, such expression was immediately clear and
unmistakable; and that therefore, in looking for the originator of the
movement, one must look for that writer of the period whose works exhibit
the romantic features most strongly and consistently, and must regard
those other writers, in whom such features are less prominent, as more
or less unwilling imitators. And if this be so, there can be little real
doubt as to the validity of Menander’s claim.
The next question to be considered is—When was this introduction of the
romantic element into Greek comedy first brought about? We know that
Philemon began to exhibit in 330, and that the date of Menander’s first
play is 322; but these facts do not of themselves furnish any information
as to the origin of New Comedy proper. For it is an unquestionable
fact, and one of the greatest importance in this connection, that both
Philemon and Menander wrote plays which are not romantic, and which
belong, therefore, to Middle, rather than to New Comedy. And on this fact
hinges the whole question of the date of the introduction of the romantic
element into Athenian Comedy.
Of the ninety-seven plays of Philemon, which Platonius states were
in his time extant,[336] hardly fifty titles are preserved, and of
these, well-nigh a third obviously belong to what were evidently Middle
Comedies.[337] When we consider how extremely probable it is that the
majority of the plays now entirely lost belonged also to this class (for
it is obvious that a later age would tend to preserve such plays as were
in harmony with the romantic tastes then prevailing, rather than those
that were not), it becomes clear that a very large proportion of the
plays of Philemon were not New Comedies at all. With Menander the same
is to a certain extent, though not in an equal degree, also true. Of
about a hundred plays that he produced during the thirty-two years of his
literary activity, while a dozen or so, presumably unsuccessful efforts
of his earlier years, are entirely lost, some twenty besides, of those
whose titles we know, must be ranked with the old, rather than with the
new form of dramatic art.
Now when we further reflect that it is not probable that, after a writer
has once taken to a new and successful development of art, he will
then fall back again to any considerable extent upon the old, and that
therefore the Middle Comedies of Menander, and also of Philemon,[338]
belong, in all probability, to their earlier period and are anterior to
the introduction of the romantic element, it becomes obvious that the
date of the introduction of this element into Comedy, (that is to say,
the date of the birth of New Comedy,) must be put considerably later than
is usually done, and that, instead of fixing this date at 330, or even
at 322, we must rather fix it somewhere between the years 315 and 310.
For assuming, as we seem in every way justified in doing, that about
a quarter of the plays of Menander belonged in spirit still to Middle
Comedy, and that his rate of production increased rather than diminished
with advancing years, a simple calculation will enable us to put the date
within these limits.
Granted then that the introduction of the romantic element into Comedy
was due to Menander, and took place about the year 312, there remains
the final question, Where did Menander get the idea from? It has,
I trust, been made sufficiently clear by this time that he did not
derive it from his predecessors in Comedy, nor yet from his favourite
model Euripides. He may, of course, have evolved it independently for
himself, but this, seeing that a similar conclusion had been arrived at
some hundred years before, is not very probable. It has already been
demonstrated that the romantic idea, (that is to say, the idea that a
woman is a worthy object for a man’s love, and that such love may well
be the chief, if not the only, aim of a man’s life,) had originally
been propounded by Antimachus of Colophon at the end of the fifth
century[339]; it seems, therefore, well-nigh certain that this idea must
have been communicated in some way to Menander from Antimachus, and the
only point that remains to be considered is the probable method of this
communication.
It is possible that the influence may have been direct. It is possible
that the accident of a copy of the _Lyde_ coming into Menander’s hands
may have suggested to him the idea which he subsequently developed with
such success. It is possible, and, in the absence of evidence, one way
or the other, it would be bold to assert that it was not the case; but,
at the same time, it seems on the whole more probable that the influence
was of a different kind, and that Menander’s attention was first called
to the views propounded by Antimachus through the medium of some third
person. While it is, of course, futile to expect proof in such a case as
this, there is, perhaps, one personality among those we know belonging to
the period, in favour of which, rather than of any other, the evidence
seems to tend. This is Asclepiades, the originator of the erotic epigram,
and a poet of great influence upon various contemporary writers. It is
true that it is usual to place the date of Asclepiades somewhat later
than that which we have decided must be fixed for the appearance of
the New Comedy, but this later date does not rest on any very strong
evidence. Asclepiades is mentioned along with Philetas in Theocritus vii.
40, in a way which, at any rate, does not exclude the possibility that
he was a contemporary;[340] Philetas, as we know, was born in the reign
of Philip,[341] say, 338; Asclepiades may have been born several years
later, even in 330, and yet have had an influence on Menander, for, as
we know, he began his career as an erotic poet at a very early age.[342]
It is by no means improbable that he may have visited Athens to complete
his education; his epigrams show an acquaintance with Athenian comedy and
life as there described which could hardly have been acquired elsewhere;
such visits were paid to Athens by Callimachus, Aratus, and others. It
will, of course, be urged that the influence may have been just the
reverse, and that Menander suggested the romantic idea to Asclepiades;
but this is improbable for two reasons. In the first place, Asclepiades
is known to have been a student of Antimachus,[343] while Menander, as
far as we know, was not; in the second, though Asclepiades shows, as has
been said, evident traces of the influence of comedy, such comedy is not
New, but distinctly Middle Comedy, as is sufficiently plain from the
drinking-scenes described in _Anth. Pal._ v. 181, 185, from the frequent,
or rather, constant allusions to Hetaerae in his epigrams, and from the
complete absence from them of those particular features of the romantic
idea which Menander himself developed. It is therefore well-nigh certain
that, if there was influence from either side,—and, when one considers
the close sympathy between the ideals of the two writers, the conclusion
that there was some more than merely fortuitous affinity between them is
almost irresistible—such influence came from the side of the brilliant
young Samian, who would thus deserve the credit of having originally
inspired not merely the romantic epigram, but also the romantic
drama.[344] That this was actually so, no one can of course affirm; but
that it may have been, no one who is familiar with the “wild-flowers of
Asclepiades” will be likely to deny.
EXCURSUS A.
[P. 31.]
_THEOGNIS_ (261 _seqq._).
The great difficulty in the way of a satisfactory reconstruction of
this passage lies in the fact that it is not certain whether it is to
be regarded as simply a description of an erotic incident, or whether
it is a γρῖφος; in the latter and, perhaps, more probable case, it is
impossible to emend without first finding the solution, and to guess a
riddle without knowing what that riddle is, rather requires a Daniel or
some similar commentator. It is not quite so impossible, however, to
improve the passage if it is looked upon as merely descriptive of an
actual event, in which case the account of apparently similar scenes in
the Romance of Eumathius may, perhaps, throw some light on the subject.
In the scene depicted in Theognis, the παῖς τέρεινα is fenced off from
her lover, not only by an objectionable suitor, but also by the presence
of her severe “water-drinking” parents. Under these circumstances,
it does not seem very probable that the lover would (as the ordinary
reading makes him do) throw his arms round her waist and kiss her on the
neck; such behaviour on his part (and its natural consequences) might,
it is true, account for the abrupt termination of the poem, but still
would not be, as I have said, exactly probable, especially after he had
been drinking only water. The scene actually described was, perhaps,
rather somewhat of the following kind. When the time for drinking was
come, the girl in question got up and went round, like the Hysmine of
Eumathius, to hand the cup to the guests,[345] going, however, first
to her parents;[346] as these were only drinking ψυχρόν, her office is
contemptuously described as being that of a water-carrier. The last two
lines I would then read:
ἔνθα μέσην περὶ παῖδα λαβὼν ἀγκῶν’ ἐφίλησα,
δειλήν, ἡ δὲ τέρεν φθέγγετ’ ἄνις στόματος.
_i.e._, as she came on her round to her lover, he put his arm on her
waist and kissed her on the elbow; and she, though she said nothing with
her lips, “her eyes were speaking.”[347]
Whether the actual words ought not to be still further emended, is
questionable; but, anyhow, the general sense thus given is a little more
complimentary to Greek “company” manners.
The chief objection to this interpretation is, of course, that it bestows
on the epigram a decidedly erotic character, which is not elsewhere to be
found in this book, and would certainly be an anachronism if the lines
belong to the fifth century.
EXCURSUS B.
[P. 48.]
The fragments of the _Phaedra_ of Sophocles (among which may be included
Soph. _Fr._ 855, and Eur. _Fr._ 431, which both very possibly belong
to this play) are interesting for the many parallels they show to the
Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (_Hom. Hymn._ iv).
There, too, special emphasis is laid on the universal sway of Aphrodite,
not only over men (l. 3), but also over animals (l. 4-6), and over Zeus
and the gods (l. 34 _seqq._). The animals fawn on her as she comes (l.
69, 70, cp. Soph. _Fr._ 625). From l. 7 one might guess that Soph. _Fr._
855, 13 was originally
τίν’ οὐ παλαίουσ’ ἔς τε τρεῖς σφάλλει θεῶν,
or something similar. Both l. 45 and Soph. _Fr._ 619 give Zeus as well as
Aphrodite the power of inspiring love; and other less important parallels
could be pointed out.
These parallels are very striking; and though one must, of course, beware
of drawing conclusions from what may be merely accidental or external, it
cannot be denied that, if it could be proved that Sophocles was working
with this hymn in his mind and with its conception of Aphrodite before
him, this fact alone would render it very unlikely that he would treat
his love-element in that “modern” way in which it has hitherto been the
fashion to assume that he did.
Anyhow, it may not be inapposite to glance at the love-incident which
occurs in this Hymn, for, if nothing else, it is interesting as a very
typical Greek “love-story.” What happens is briefly this:
Aphrodite, having fallen in love with Anchises, disguises herself as
a mortal maiden, and comes upon the object of her affection as he is
wandering alone among the byres, singing to himself.
At first he takes her for a goddess, and is duly humble; but she assures
him that this is not the case, but she is the daughter of the king of
Phrygia, and she asserts that she has been carried by Hermes away from
her home to be his (Anchises’) bride. In her helpless condition, she,
therefore, throws herself on his mercy, and begs him by Zeus and his
parents:
ἀδμήτην μ’ ἀγαγὼν καὶ ἀπειρήτην φιλότητος
πατρί τε σῷ δεῖξον καὶ μητέρι κέδν’ εἰδυίῃ. κ.τ.λ.
His answer to this appeal to his chivalrous feelings is prompt and to the
point:
“If you are really not a goddess, but only a mortal,
οὔτις ἔπειτα θεῶν οὔτε θνητῶν ἀνθρώπων
ἐνθάδε με σχήσει, πρὶν σῇ φιλότητι μιγῆναι
αὐτίκα νῦν.”
After this, perhaps even the last two lines of his speech are an
anti-climax.
EXCURSUS C.
[P. 52.]
_THE ANDROMEDA OF EURIPIDES._
Of all the plays of Euripides, the one which is generally looked upon as
especially “romantic” is the _Andromeda_,[348] and it must be confessed
that, at first sight, it does appear to have a certain character of its
own. The common view of the story is, that Perseus, seeing Andromeda
exposed, falls in love with her, and therefore rescues her. If this view
is correct, this play will furnish the solitary instance in Euripides of
a man’s falling in love with a woman.
But how far is this view correct? A careful examination of the fragments
will, perhaps, show that it requires at least to be modified.
When the play opens, Andromeda is found exposed on her rock, and after
she has made due lamentations, there appears Perseus, bearing evident
marks of his long journey, and generally in a deplorable condition.[349]
On learning from her the state of the case, he pities her, and, say
the modern critics, falls in love with her. I doubt it. This is not at
all the sort of occasion on which a Greek would be likely to fall in
love. Perseus is wet and dirty and hungry, and has the prospect of a
dangerous encounter before him. Love, to the Greek, is essentially the
child of ease and idleness;[350] to connect it with stress and struggle
is entirely a modern notion. The one and only thing which a Greek
in Perseus’ position would be likely to do, would be to try whether
he couldn’t find someone—a king by preference—to lend him some new
clothes;[351] and this, or something of the kind, is, in all probability,
what he makes the condition of his saving Andromeda.[352] Then, cheered
by the prospect of a warm bath and of a comfortable night’s rest, he goes
to face the monster.
But though he does not fall in love with Andromeda, _she falls in love
with him_, and begs him, when he returns victorious,[353] to take her
with him anywhere, if only as a slave. She will follow him anywhere,
she says, even through the sky if he likes.[354] In the improved state
of affairs,[355] Perseus is not averse to these advances; but an
obstacle arises in the shape of Cepheus, who objects to the disreputable
appearance of his would-be son-in-law. Perseus argues his case with
considerable fervour, but apparently without success; and it is Andromeda
again who, by some bold stroke, overcomes or outwits her parents,
and brings off what she wishes—οὐχ εἵλετο τῷ πατρὶ συμμένειν οὐδὲ τῇ
μητρί, ἀλλ’ αὐθαίρετος εἰς τὸ Ἄργος ἀπῆλθε μετ’ ἐκείνου εὐγενές τι
φρονήσασα.[356]
In other words, the initiative in the love-affair of Perseus and
Andromeda is again almost entirely on the side of the woman, and this
play forms in reality no exception to the general rule in this respect.
EXCURSUS D.
[P. 59.]
While on the subject of the _Hippolytus_, I cannot refrain from
suggesting a couple of emendations in the last scene of the play, which
certainly improve the present text artistically, and, perhaps, gain some
support from what we know of the two versions of the work.
The first version ended with the promise of immortality to Hippolytus as
a reward for his constancy (Eur. _Fr._ 446); in the second, this feature
has entirely disappeared, and the last words of the play are a lament
for the dead and a complaint of the injustice of heaven. Indeed, it may
be said that the injustice of heaven is the chief moral of this second
version.
Read therefore in l. 1415
εἴθ’ ἦν ἀραιὸν δαίμοσιν βροτῶν γένους.
“Were there but a little humanity in the gods!”
Could one but
Pierce the cold lips of God with human breath,
And mix his immortality with death!
And, once again, in l. 1440, when Artemis leaves Hippolytus with the
remark that she is very sorry, but she doesn’t like death-bed scenes, he
exclaims bitterly:
χαίρουσα καὶ σὺ στεῖχε, παρθέν’ ὀλβία.
μακρὰν δὲ λείπεις ῥᾳδίως ὁμιλίαν.[357]
I don’t much think that Euripides wrote either of these lines so, but I
think it is a pity he didn’t.
EXCURSUS E.
[P. 87.]
_THE SECOND BOOK OF THEOGNIS._
The second book of Theognis consists almost entirely of love-poems
addressed to boys, and might therefore be expected to furnish
particularly valuable evidence in the present connection, especially
as many of these poems are of a far more personal and purely erotic
character than those in the first book. The date of this book is,
however, disputed, and I personally am inclined to believe that it is
very much later than the time of Theognis—too recent, in fact, to belong
to the period we are discussing at all. This being so, I have naturally
not chosen to lay stress on its contents. For the sake of completeness,
however, I have added here a brief examination of its character, for the
benefit of anyone who may believe in it.
The general tone of these poems, though noticeably more passionate than
that of the earlier collection, is still chivalrous and dignified,
and occasionally rises to a very high level indeed. That spirit of
self-negation, which we have already observed to be peculiar among the
early Greeks to this form of love, is in places very marked. Few passages
in all classical poetry can equal the pathetic dignity of these words of
resignation:
οὐκ ἐθέλω σε κακῶς ἕρδειν, οὐδ’ εἴ μοι ἄμεινον
πρὸς θεῶν ἀθανάτων ἔσσεται, ὦ καλὲ παῖ·
οὐ γὰρ ἁμαρτωλῇσιν ἐπὶ σμικρῇσι κάθημαι,
τῶν δὲ καλῶν παίδων οὔτις ἔτ’ οὐκ ἀδικῶν.[358] (l. 1279)
or of this farewell:
καλὸς ἐὼν κακότητι φρενῶν δειλοῖσιν ὁμιλεῖς
ἀνδράσι, καὶ διὰ τοῦτ’ αἰσχρὸν ὄνειδος ἔχεις,
ὦ παῖ· ἐγὼ δ’ ἀέκων τῆς σῆς φιλότητος ἁμαρτών,
ὠνήμην ἕρδων οἷά τ’ ἐλεύθερος ὤν. (l. 1377)
or of this:
οὐδαμά σ’ οὐδ’ ἀπιὼν[359] δηλήσομαι, οὐδέ με πείσει
οὐδεὶς ἀνθρώπων ὥστε με μή σε φιλεῖν. (l. 1363)
Similarly, that fatherly attitude on the part of the older man, which
we have noticed both in Theognis and in the Theocritean imitation of
Alcaeus, is apparent in more than one place (_e.g._ 1351 _seqq._). This
lends a particular point to those passages which compare the lover to a
horse’s owner or rider (1249 _seqq._, 1267 _seqq._)
Again, there is the same appeal to the friend’s better feelings that
we have noticed in Theocritus (1319 _seqq._), the same appeal to his
care for his good name (1295 _seqq._), all marked, too, by the same
consideration and courtesy (1235 _seqq._); there is the same exhortation
to constancy, the same reproof of faithlessness (1257 _seqq._, &c.), the
same warning, full of earnestness, but withal full of tenderness, as to
the shortness of youth (1299 _seqq._, 1305 _seqq._).[360]
But it is needless to go further into detail. Enough has been said to
show the general character of these poems, and anyone who reads them can
easily supplement these instances with others. So, whatever value one may
be inclined to assign to the evidence here adduced, it must, at least,
be admitted that there is nothing in it which in any way contradicts
anything that has gone before.[361]
EXCURSUS F.
[P. 106.]
_WOMEN IN THE MIDDLE COMEDY._
[NOTE.—A considerable part of the contents of this Excursus
(originally written for the first of the two Essays in this
volume) is repeated in the second Essay. The Excursus is
printed here without alteration, but it should be noted that
the author did not regard it as having attained its final form.]
The fragments of the Middle Comedy, belonging, as they do, to the
earlier and middle part of the fourth century—that is, to the period of
transition between the two great epochs of Greek literature—might have
been expected to afford very valuable evidence as to the development
of the romantic feeling. Unfortunately, however, this is not the case;
indeed, the information to be gathered from them is, in this respect, of
so little importance, that it is hardly worth considering at all.
Various explanations suggest themselves to account for this somewhat
surprising fact. In the first place, the remains of the Middle Comedy are
very small compared with the enormous original bulk of this literature,
and, besides this, nearly all the more important fragments that we
possess are derived from Athenaeus, who generally quotes them with a
view to elucidating questions of cookery, or illustrating the habits of
fishmongers. But the real cause of the absence from these fragments of
all traces of a romantic element is probably a less fortuitous one, and
is to be found in the nature of dramatic literature in general, and of
comedy in particular. A play, to be successful, must be behind the times;
if it treats its subjects in an enlightened manner, it will be above
the level of the mass of its audience, and they will declare it dull,
or ridiculous, or both.[362] Dramatic authors know this well enough,
and, for the most part, carefully refrain from insulting the spectators
by telling them anything new. The writers of the Middle Comedy were no
exception to this rule; and so, while their plays dealt very extensively
with women, and not unfrequently, it would seem, with love-stories of
a sort, the treatment of these subjects was, out of deference to their
public, far more antiquated and unsympathetic than one would have been
inclined to expect from writers who were often well acquainted with the
works of the most enlightened thinkers of the time. Thus, therefore,
strange as it may at first sight appear, in all probability those
fragments which have survived furnish, on the whole, a very good general
idea of the relations between men and women, as depicted in the Middle
Comedy; and there is in reality little reason to believe that, even if
we possessed a far larger quantity of this literature, we should be able
to learn much more about this particular subject. The romantic element
is absent from these fragments because it was absent from the complete
works to which they originally belonged.
The main features of the Middle Comedy treatment of erotic subjects
(as illustrated by the fragments) are very plain. There is nowhere any
trace of the romantic feeling; where “love” is praised or recommended,
as is, of course, not unfrequently the case, what is understood thereby
is always merely sensual gratification. Plato and “Platonic” love are
stock subjects of ridicule. Marriage is invariably alluded to in terms
of contempt and dislike, and the women introduced are almost always
Hetaerae; but even these are hardly ever spoken of with any respect or
affection, being generally described as vulgar, drunken, and stingy, and
in some cases attacked with the most savage brutality. The effort which
the women at Athens were making about this time to gain larger liberties,
also comes in for its share of ridicule; and altogether, these comedies
show a want of sympathy with every honourable ambition of the age, which
throws a strange light on that cultured and artistic Athenian audience
which one is generally taught to admire.
I have before me an analysis[363] of all the passages in which women
are in any way referred to in this literature; but, as I have already
remarked, the amount of information to be gained from them is not
sufficient to warrant a lengthy discussion. A few specimens from the
best-known writers will serve to illustrate what has been said, and will
give a sufficiently clear idea of the nature of the rest.
ANAXANDRIDES is described by Suidas as having been the first to introduce
ἔρωτας καὶ παρθένων φθοράς,[364] and is therefore important as forming a
connecting-link between Old and Middle Comedy; but there is no important
example of this peculiar feature in any of the fragments of him that have
survived, though passages like that in the _Gerontomania_ (_ap._ Athen.
xiii. 570 D), and titles of plays like _Anteron_ or _Kitharistria_, serve
to give a very fair idea of the nature of the “erotic element” thus
introduced.[365]
ANTIPHANES again, though making frequent mention of women, yet does not
tell one anything of importance about them. His opinion as to their
untrustworthiness is at least emphatic,
ἐγὼ γυναικὶ δ’ ἕν τι πιστεύω μόνον,
ἐπὰν ἀποθάνῃ μὴ βιώσεσθαι πάλιν,
τὰ δ’ ἄλλ’ ἀπιστῶ πάνθ’ ἕως ἂν ἀποθάνῃ.
(_Incert._ 54.)
and his invectives against marriage are occasionally humorous—
_Α._ γεγάμηκε δήπου. _Β._ τί σὺ λέγεις; ἀληθινῶς
γεγάμηκεν, ὃν ἐγὼ ζῶντα περιπατοῦντά τε
κατέλιπον;
(_Philopator._)
but, on the whole, his allusions are not very interesting.
EUBULUS was notorious as a special student and parodist of Euripides, a
feature apparent in the misogyny, real or affected, in which he indulges.
A good specimen of this is the passage quoted in Athen. xiii. 559 B from
his _Chrysilla_. There is, besides, in the _Campylion_ an interesting
description of violent love for a certain κοσμία ἑταίρα, one of whose
chief charms, however, seems to be that she knows how to eat decently.
The same writer, in the _Nannion_, dwells on the folly of adultery,
supporting his view by arguments which hardly appeal to the “romantic”
sense.[366]
AMPHIS grows enthusiastic over the superiority of ἑταῖραι to γαμεταί,
ἡ μὲν νόμῳ γὰρ καταφρονοῦσ’ ἔνδον μένει,
ἡ δ’ οἶδεν ὅτι ἢ τοῖς τρόποις ὠνητέος
ἄνθρωπός ἐστιν ἢ πρὸς ἄλλον ἀπιτέον.
(_Athamas._)
and in the _Dithyrambus_ makes a contemptuous allusion to “Platonic” love:
τί φῄς; σὺ ταυτὶ προσδοκᾷς πείσειν ἐμέ,
ὡς ἔστ’ ἐραστὴς ὅστις, ὡραῖον φιλῶν,
τρόπων ἐραστής ἐστι, τὴν ὄψιν παρείς;
ἄφρων γ’ ἀληθῶς. οὔτε τοῦτο πείθομαι,
οὔθ’ ὡς πένης ἄνθρωπος ἐνοχλῶν πολλάκις
τοῖς εὐποροῦσιν οὐ λαβεῖν τι βούλεται.
(_Dithyrambus._ 2.)
EPHIPPUS gives us a pretty picture of a woman (an Hetaera, of course)
coaxing away a man’s trouble:
ἔπειτά γ’ εἰσιόντ’, ἐὰν λυπούμενος
τύχῃ τις ἡμῶν, ἐκολάκευσεν ἡδέως,
ἐφίλησεν, οὐχὶ συμπιέσασα τὸ στόμα,
ὥσπερ πολέμιον, ἀλλὰ τοῖσι στρουθίοις
χναύουσ’ ὁμοίως ἧσε, παρεμυθήσατο,
ἐποίησέ θ’ ἱλαρὸν εὐθέως τ’ ἀφεῖλε πᾶν
αὐτοῦ τὸ λυποῦν κἀπέδειξεν ἵλεων.
(_Empole._ 1.)
EPICRATES is chiefly noticeable for the brutality of his _Antilais_, a
considerable fragment of which is preserved in Athen. xiii. 570 B.
XENARCHUS’ best contribution to literature is, perhaps, his famous
ὅρκους ἐγὼ γυναικὸς εἰς οἶνον γράφω.
(_Pentathl._ 3.)
Lastly, there is ALEXIS, who, though he extends from the Middle well
into the New Comedy (388-284 are the dates—rather trying to the
credulity—given for his life), yet belongs very distinctly to the former,
and shows no signs of a newer spirit, unless it be in the revolt against
the artificiality of the Hetaerae, of which there is a specimen in his
_Isostasium_. He makes, however, a favourable allusion to “Platonic” love
(_Helene_), though he does not suggest the possibility of its application
to women. For the rest, he confines himself to the ordinary topics, and
his complaints against wives are, here and there, amusing, as when he
argues that marriage is worse than disfranchisement:—
τοὺς μὲν γοῦν ἀτίμους οὐκ ἐᾷ
ἀρχὴν λαχόντας ὁ νόμος ἄρχειν τῶν πέλας·
ἐπὰν δὲ γήμῃς, οὐδὲ σαυτοῦ κύριον
ἔξεστιν εἶναι· τὰς γὰρ εὐθύνας μόνον
ἐφημερινὰς τὰς τοῦ βίου κεκτήμεθα.
(_Incert._ 34.)
The examination of these fragments has been very barren of any but
negative results, but this very barrenness is not perhaps without a
certain significance. The Middle and the New Comedy kept the stage at
Athens (to the exclusion, in great part, of original tragedy) without a
check during the fourth century; but at the same time, the continuity
of the dramatic tradition that pervades them is by no means unbroken,
and the differences between the two styles of art are very marked.
Of all these differences, there is none more striking than that in
the treatment of the erotic element. This, which, though introduced
early enough into the Middle Comedy, yet never attained to any real
development there, appears suddenly in the New Comedy as a feature of
overwhelming importance. Nor is this all. The erotic element, which,
from henceforward, occupies so prominent a place in comedy, differs in
character _toto caelo_ from that which occurs in the earlier dramas.
Instead of the ἑταίρα, the New Comedy introduces us to the παρθένος;
instead of marriage being the stock subject of ridicule, it becomes the
hero’s ideal.[367]
This change of attitude is so marked, that it seems impossible to regard
the later feeling as a development of the earlier; the revolution is so
violent, that it seems inevitable to admit that it came in some manner
from without. And, as a matter of fact, if we consider the period from
which the New Comedy dates, it is by no means difficult to conjecture
what the source of this external influence may have been.
Menander brought out his first play, at a very early age, in 322; about
this time, Asclepiades and Philetas were already coming into prominence;
those influences which induced the Coan school to speak of women in
a manner so different from that of previous writers, may well have
impressed the Athenian also, and produced a body of poets who, though
differing in certain important points from the “Alexandrians,” were yet
distinctly romantic.
To this subject of the romantic element in the New Comedy, I hope at
some future time to be able to return,[368] so that I will not speak
of it further here, except so far as to point out that, firstly (an
obvious fact, but one that seems sometimes strangely ignored), the New
Comedy is distinctly later in date than the Coan school of poets, and
cannot therefore, under any circumstances, claim priority for the
introduction of the romantic element into literature; while secondly, if
the introduction of this element was really due, as is commonly asserted,
to the influence of Euripides, it seems strange that, while so many of
his views were common property at Athens from the very beginning of the
fourth century, not one of the Athenian playwrights, some of whom studied
him so thoroughly, should have felt this particular influence till nearly
a century after his death.
EXCURSUS G.
[P. 150.]
_WOMEN IN THE MIDDLE COMEDY FRAGMENTS._
(Plays in italics and marked with an asterisk are wholly lost. Of those
in italics no fragment of importance is preserved.)
ANTIPHANES.
Plays named after Hetaerae:—Antea?, _Archestrata?_, Chrysis, Malthace,
Melitta, Neottis, Philotis.
Plays dealing apparently with a similar class of society:—Acestria,
Aleiptria, _Anterosa_, _Auletris?_, Corinthia?, Curis?, Dyserotes,
Halieuomene?, Hydria, Mystis?, Neanisci.
Plays relating to erotic mythological subjects:—Aeolus, _Andromeda?_,
Antea?, Arcas?, _Caeneus?_, Glaucus, _Melanion_ (the misogynist, cp.
Aristoph. _Lys._ 784), _Meleager?_, Omphale?, _Phaon?_
Other plays, the titles of which suggest erotic incidents:
_Acontizomene?_, Aphrodisius?, Asoti?, _Delia?_, Epiclerus?, Gamus?,
_Harpazomene?_, Lemniae, Moechi, Sappho (in the fragments the poetess
merely appears as asking riddles).
Acontizomene. The drunkenness of women.
Aeolus 1. Parody of the prologue of the Canace of Euripides.
Agroecus 2. Meretrix magnum malum.
Aleiptria. The servant-girl threatens to pour hot water over
some rude visitors.
Arcas 2. Mention of the Hetaera Sinope, perhaps under her
nickname of Abydos.
Asclepios. An old woman induced to take medicine under the idea
that it is wine.
Asoti. Mulier ducit virum.
Bacchae. The drunkenness of wives.
Boeotia. A man urges a girl to try a citron at dessert. (Copied
by Eriphus, Meliboea 1. Cp. Eubulus, Campylion 5.)
Butalion. A girl (?) from the country is asked to order dinner.
Cp. Acestria (where read φιλτάτη in l. 3?), and Alexis, Homoea.
Cepurus. Mention of the Hetaera Sinope.
Chrysis. 1, 2. Description of a wealthy lover.
Coroplathus. An obscene allusion.
Drapetagogus. A woman’s way of eating.
Dyspratus 1. A woman’s stinginess to her slaves. (Cp.
Epicrates, Dyspratus.)
Glaucus. Reference to a vesticontubernium.
Halieuomene 1. A long fragment addressed by the fish-seller to
her slave (containing various puns on the names of Hetaerae and
their lovers.)
Hydria 1. The praises of a true Hetaera.
Malthace. The excuses of an Hetaera.
Melitta. A merchant who boasts of his wealth.
Metragyrtes. A girl washing a man’s feet.
Misoponerus. Complaints as to the trouble a baby is in the
house.
Mystis 3. A man inviting a woman to drink, apparently to
excess. (Cp. Athen. x. 441 C; Eubul. Campyl. 5; Anacreont. iv.
12, μύστις νάματος ἡ Κύπρις ὑμεναίοις κροτοῦσα.)
Neanisci 2. A girl arguing with her mother on the relative
values of her poor and her wealthy lover (?).
Neottis 3. Mention of Sinope.
Omphale 3. Heracles ordering his dinner of Omphale.
Philometor. Praises of a mother. (Cp. Alexis, Incert. 35.)
Philopator. Marriage compared to death.
Zacynthius. The pleasure of having one’s feet washed by a
woman. (Cp. Pherecrates, Thalatta, 7, and supra p. 128.)
Incert. 12. Love cannot be concealed.
13. Homoeopathic cure for a wife.
51. Praise of love. (Also in Theophilus, Philaulus.)
52. Marriage the last of ills.
53. The burden of a rich wife.
54. The one thing in which you can trust a woman is,
that when she is dead she will not come to life
again—nothing else.
55. The one advantage of ophthalmia is that you can’t
see your wife.
57. To tell a secret to a woman is like telling it to
the town-crier.
71. An old man must forego the pleasures of love.
95. κασωρὶς ἡ πόρνη.
ANAXANDRIDES.
The following titles of plays suggest erotic subjects:—Aeschra (name of
an Hetaera), Anchises, _Anteron_, _Citharistria_, Helene, _Locrides?_,
Melilotus?, Protesilaus.
Gerontomania 1. Two old men discuss Lais and the other ladies
they used to know in their youth.
Odysseus 1. Women are attracted by good dinners.
Tereus 2. An allusion suggestive of Theocr. i. 87.
3. A royal bride.
Theseus 2. A girl is easily pleased.
Incert. 1. The troubles of being married.
5. A father tells his daughter that a wife should not leave
her husband.
9. Women are slaves of pleasure.
10. Love the best schoolmaster. (Cp. Alex. Incert. 38, where,
however, the image is somewhat different.)
13. An unmarried daughter is a terrible thing. (Cp. 17.)
EUBULUS.
Plays named after Hetaerae:—Chrysilla, _Clepsydra_* (so called because
she used to regulate the duration of her favours by the clock), Nannion,
Neottis, _Plangon_.
Plays dealing with mythological erotic subjects:—_Anchises?_, Echo?,
Europe?, Ixion?, Nausicaa?, Pelops?, Procris?
Other plays which seem to have dealt with erotic subjects:—Astyti?,
Campylion, Mylothris?, Orthane, Pamphilus, Pannychis, Pornoboscus,
_Psaltria_, Stephanopolides.
Ancylion 3. Kisses mentioned among the prizes at a “pannychis.”
Campylion. _Vide supra_, p. 155.
Cercopes 1. The dangerous attractions of Corinth, narrated by a
traveller.
Chrysilla 1. The folly of marrying again.
2. An attempted defence of women breaks down.
Nannion. The folly of adultery. (_Vide supra_, p. 158.)
Orthane. A party of ladies and gentlemen come together to celebrate a
sacrifice to Orthane.
Pamphilus 1. A man takes up his station at the window of an inn to watch
the proceedings of a lady opposite. (Cp. Ter. _Phormio_ i. 2, 38 _seqq._)
3. The drinking capacities of the lady’s chaperone.
Pannychis. A description of Hetaerae, in part the same as in Nannion.
Pornoboscus 1. A woman describes her keeper.
Sphingocarion 2. Women anointing a man’s feet.
3. A lady excuses her absence on the previous evening (?).
Stephanopolides 1. A flower girl (?) ridicules the cosmetics of the
professional Hetaerae.
2. The pleasures of love from a woman’s point of view.
(A very graceful passage, with an allusion to the
legend of Cissus and Ololygon.)
3, 4. The flower-girls making up and selling their garlands.
(Another pretty passage, with perhaps an allusion to
the Hetaera Nannion under her name of Aegidion.)
Incert. 3. Why do girls prefer old wine, but young men?
9. A woman in a passion.
20. A man excuses himself and goes home.
25. Mention of the festival Stenia, at which the Athenian women
used to abuse one another. (Cp. Theopompus, Aphrodisia 1;
_supra_, p. 148.)
ALEXIS.
Plays named after Hetaerae:—Agonis, Atthis?, Choregis, Dorcis?,
Isostasium, Lampas, Meropis?, Opora, Pamphile, _Pezonice_, Polycleia,
Ponera?
Plays on mythological erotic subjects:—Atalanta, Galatea, Helenes
Harpage, Helenes Mnesteres, Hesione, _Iasis?_.
Other plays apparently dealing with erotic subjects:—Achaeis?,
Apocoptomenus, Bostrychus?, Brettia?, Cnidia?, Curis, Epiclerus?, Hypnus,
Lemnia?, Leucadia? (can this play have dealt with the proceedings of
the comic poet Nicostratus?), Mandragorizomene, Olynthia, Orchestris,
Pallace, Phaedrus, Philocalus, Philusa, _Poëtria?_, Traumatias.
Agonis. _Vide supra_, p. 156.
Apocoptomenus 1. Lovers have wings and Love has none.
Cleobuline. A mention of the Hetaera Sinope.
Curis 1, 2. A father of two sons, one highly respectable, the
other less so.
Dropides. An Hetaera brings in a decanter of sweet wine during
dinner.
Graphe. The story of the man who fell in love with the statue
at Samos. (It would be obvious to suggest that in this play
a man is introduced who falls in love with a picture. More
probably, however, this passage comes from the speech of some
painter who is extolling his art, possibly to some lady, in
the way Ovid used to do. Cp. _Ars Amat._ iii. 397 _seqq._, 533
_seqq._, etc.)
Gynaecocratia. Perhaps introduced women in the theatre, like
the Scenas Catalambanusae of Aristophanes.
Helene. A mock (?) Platonic view of love. (_Vide supra_, p.
161.)
Hesione 2. The heroine complains that, as soon as Heracles saw
that his dinner was ready, he ceased to take any notice of her.
Homoea. A girl is asked to order dinner.
Hypnus 1. Two women asking one another riddles.
Isostasium 1. An attack on the artificiality of Hetaerae.
Lampas. The protest of an angry father at his son’s
extravagance. (Cp. Mnesimach. Dyscolus.)
Lyciscus 1. A mention of the Hetaera Pythionice.
Mandragorizomene 5. A lover visits his sick lady. The whole
play seems to have turned on a subject of this kind (cp. Fr.
2), and calls to mind pictures like that in Ovid, _Ars Amat._
ii. 319 _seqq._, especially 333 _seqq._
Manteis. The slavery of marriage.
Meropis. A lady complains of the late arrival of someone,
perhaps her maid.
Olynthia 1, 2. The poor circumstances of the heroine’s family.
Orchestris. All that women want is plenty of wine.
Pallace. Perhaps the answer of the husband to his indignant
wife.
Pamphile. The proper food for a lover. (Cp. _Incert._ 18.)
Phaedrus 1. The nature of love.
Philocalos. A stingy man inviting ladies to dinner.
Philusa 1. The Aphrodisia.
Tarantini 5. An allusion to the Hetaera Nannion.
Thrason. A talkative woman.
Traumatias 2. Only lovers really live.
Incert. 14. A repetition of the remark of Eubulus (_Incert._ 3)
on the inconsistency of women in preferring old wine and young
men.
18. The proper food for a lover. (Cp. Pamphile.)
26. Inviting a woman to drink.
31. The three pleasures of life.
34. Marriage worse than disfranchisement.
35. One’s mother is deserving of the highest respect. (Cp.
Antiphanes, Philometor.)
38. Love the best tutor. (Cp. Anaxandr. _Incert._ 10, where,
however, the image is slightly different.)
39. Nothing is more shameless than a woman—as I know from
my own wife.
40. Nothing is so difficult to guard as a woman.
53. The word διαπεπαρθενευκότα.
AMPHIS.
Several plays satirising women, such as the _Acco_* (the silly woman),
the Gynaecocratia and the Gynaecomania.
The Scholiast of Germanicus’ _Aratea_ quotes the legends of Zeus and
Callisto (p. 38), and of the Dog Star and Opora (p. 76) from Amphis;
these legends seem to have occurred in plays now lost.[369]
Of the Sappho no important fragment is preserved.
Amphicrates. A confidential slave arguing with his young master
on the folly of the latter’s attachment to a certain lady.
Athamas. The inevitable superiority of the Hetaera over the
wife.
Curis 1, 2. An Hetaera who deserves to be rich, more than
Sinope and the others who are.
Dithyrambus 2. Ridicule of “Platonic” love.
Gynaecocratia. The liberated husband. (It is easy to imagine
how the outraged wife breaks in upon this happy party,
something after the manner of Cynthia in Prop. iv. 8.)
Gynaecomania. Seems to suggest a similar scene, if indeed, the
two plays be not one and the same.
Ialemus 1. An invective against lettuces.
ARAROS.
The Adonis and the Caeneus dealt with erotic legends, as is plain from
Fr. 1 of the former and Fr. 4 of the latter. The same is perhaps true
of the Panos Gonae (Fr. 2.) The Hymenaeus contained a description of a
wedding (Fr. 2), and the _Parthenidion_* may also have dealt with erotic
subjects.
NICOSTRATUS.
The Pandrosus introduces (Fr. 2, 3) an elderly gentleman supping with a
lady, among whose acquaintances is numbered Ocimum (Fr. 1).
_Incert._ 9 describes a prude.
Besides these, the titles _Anterosa_, Habra, and the corrupt _Otis_,*
seem to suggest erotic subjects.
PHILETAERUS.
In the Atalanta, the fragment which it is usual to assign to a parasite
might perhaps be assigned to the heroine of the piece, who would thus
appear in her legendary character of the “advanced woman,”, something
like the lady in Juvenal vi. 246 _seqq._, 425 _seqq._
Corinthiastes. The superiority of Hetaerae to Gametae. (He
repeats the remark in Cynagis 3.)
Cynagis 1. A list of veteran Hetaerae.
2. Old age is no excuse for giving up pleasure.
Meleager. A dance not suitable for unmarried ladies.
EPHIPPUS.
Empole 1. A pretty picture of a woman (an Hetaera, of course,)
coaxing away a man’s trouble. Empole 2. The same (?) urging on
a disorderly member of the party the advantages of harmony.
Ephebi 3. Proceedings commence with the ladies having a drink
all round.
Philyra (named after the Hetaera) 2. The heroine (?) coaxing an
elderly gentleman to commit what he considers an extravagance.
(Fr. 3 seems to suggest that a younger lover appeared on the
scene and expressed himself as jealous.)
Sappho. How to recognise a πόρνος.
ANAXILAS.
Neottis 1. A violent invective against the whole race of
Hetaerae, mentioning various names.
2. The difference between an Hetaera and a Porne.
Incert. 2. Rebuke of a jealous lover (?).
3. The sign of an abandoned woman.
4, 5. Remarks on a woman’s toilet.
6. A system of coiffure.
ARISTOPHON.
Callonides. The folly of marrying a second time.
Iatrus 2. An Hetaera’s door is shut to a man without money (l.
1, _leg._ διαπετεῖς pro διοπετεῖς).
Pythagoristes 2. The gods have driven Love out of heaven, and
clipped his wings, so that he stays on earth.
EPICRATES.
Antilais 2. A savage attack upon Lais.
3. A list of erotic writers whose poems one learns by
heart.
Chorus. A man cheated by a _lena_.
Dyspratus. Women’s stinginess towards slaves (cp. Antiphanes, Dyspratus).
_O demens, ita servus homo est?_
CRATINUS IUNIOR.
Omphale. The heroine (?) appears dilating on the pleasures of a
life of ease, with a view to seducing Heracles.
The Titanes also seems to have dealt with erotic subjects.
AXIONICUS.
Philinna. One thing, at least, you can trust a woman—that she
won’t drink water.
CALLICRATES.
Moschion. A mention of Sinope.
DIODORUS.
Incert. Better a well-educated wife without money than one who
does not know how to behave with.
ERIPHUS.
Meliboea 1. A man giving a girl some citrons at dessert. (Cp.
Antiphanes, Boeotia.) Fr. 2 seems to belong to the same scene.
HENIOCHUS.
Incert. The cities of Greece, allegorised as women are
entertained and made drunk by Abulia, Democratia, and
Aristocratia.
HERACLITUS.
Xenizon. Mention of a certain gluttonous Helen.
PHILISCUS.
Philargyri. A woman’s powers of persuasion.
SOPHILUS.
The Paracatathece and the Syntrechontes both seem to have had erotic
plots.
TIMOTHEUS.
Incert. An elaborate eulogy of Love, which does not read like
the work of a comic poet.
TIMOCLES.
Epistolae 1. A lover’s comic enthusiasm.
Icarii 1, 2. Pythionice and her lovers.
Marathonii. The pleasures of seduction. (Cp. p. 159, note.)
Neaera 1. An unfortunate lover of Phryne.
Orestautocleides 1. Autocleides the paederast appears
surrounded by Hetaerae, in the character of Orestes and the
Erinnyes. (Cp. Mein. _Com. Fr._ i. 432.)
Philodicastes. Mention of a new regulation by which the
γυναικονόμοι had to inspect entertainments, to see that they
were respectable.
Sappho. An allusion to Misgolas (cp. _supra_, p. 157).
XENARCHUS.
Butalion. A childless house.
Hypnus. Happy cicadas, for their females are dumb.
Pentathlus 1. The folly of adultery (cp. Eubulus, Nannion).
2, 3. Woman’s power of drinking.
Priapus. An earnest drinker.
Scythae 1. The effects of a rival (?).
THEOPHILUS.
Neoptolemus 1. A young wife does not suit an old husband.
Philaulus 1. Love for a maiden (a _citharistria_) described
with considerable enthusiasm. (The first four lines = Antiph.
_Incert._ 51.)
2. An anxious father (?) hopes that his son will not
fall into the hands of the Hetaerae.
EXCURSUS H.
[P. 163.]
_WOMEN IN THE FRAGMENTS OF THE EARLY NEW COMEDY._
In the case of Menander, only the more important allusions are
chronicled. In the case of the other writers, everything that bears on
the subject is mentioned.
MENANDER.
Adelphi 1. The happiness of never marrying. (Adapted by Terence
in his _Adelphi_.)
Andria 1. Love makes blind. (Adapted by Terence in his
_Andria_.)
Androgynus 2. An allusion to a wedding ceremony.
Anepsii 1. Love is, by nature, deaf to advice.
2. A daughter is a troublesome thing.
Aphrodisia 1. Love makes fools of men.
2. A girl, while delirious, lets out unfortunate secrets.
Arrephorus 1. The dangers of marriage.
3. A talkative woman.
Carchedonius. (Adapted by Plautus in his _Poenulus_?)
Chalceia 3. Youth is the time for love.
Colax 4. A list of various well-known Hetaerae. (Adapted by Terence in
his _Eunuchus_.)
Cybernetae 2. The man who is counted lucky in public, but tyrannised over
at home.
Dactylius 1. The obstinate father who refuses his daughter.
2. A bridegroom who wants no dowry. (For the plot cp. Ter.
_Hecyra_.)
Didymae 1. The Cynic Crates’ wife. (Cp. Apul. _Florid._ xiv.)
Empipramene 1. Invective against marriage.
4. A father’s joy (at the recognition of his daughter?).
Epitrepontes. (Similar in plot to the _Hecyra_ of Terence.)
Eunuchus 7. The violent joy of the successful lover in Ter. _And._ v. 5,
3, is translated literally from this play. (Adapted by Terence in his
_Eunuchus_.)
Georgus 6. The unpractical lover.
Halieis 6. A daughter is an awkward thing.
10. The flight of the adulterer.
Heauton Timorumenus 3. The respectable girl’s home. (Adapted by Terence
in his _Heauton Timorumenus_.)
Heros 1. Love is omnipotent.
Hiereia 2. A respectable woman should not leave the house. (The plot
deals with a married woman who follows the priests of Cybele about the
streets.)
Hypobolimaeus 4. The husband should rule the wife.
8. μέγιστον θηρίον γυνή.
Leucadia 1. Sappho’s leap.
Misogynes 1. The advantages of a wife.
2, 3, 4, 5. The expense of keeping a wife.
4, 5. A woman’s superstitions.
9. The husband seeks refuge with an Hetaera. (The plot is
concerned with a man who marries a woman, and then conceives
a most violent hatred for her.)
Misumenus 3. The slavery of love.
5. Platonic love.
6. The lover’s misery.
7. The lover in his lady’s absence.
8. An unsympathetic listener.
10. The lover cannot sleep.
12. Jealousy.
(The plot deals with a Miles Gloriosus, who is in love
with a slave girl of his, but will not touch her because
she does not love him.)
Nauclerus 4. A lover is always easily led.
Olynthia 4. Artificial hair.
Orge 5. An adulterer is an expensive luxury.
Paedion 2. A man who goes round offering amulets to men when they get
married.
Periceiromene. (The soldier who, in a fit of jealousy, cuts off the hair
of his slave girl, and afterwards repents.)
Perinthia. (Adapted by Terence in his _Andria_, especially for the first
scene.)
Plocion 1. The rich, ugly, and jealous wife.
2. The disagreeableness of the same.
3. The results of a κωμικὴ παννυχίς.
4. The trouble that they bring on a house.
Sicyonius. (The soldier who buys a girl, and then treats her as if she
were a free woman.)
Synaristosae 1, 2. The strange behaviour of some women (Hetaerae?) at
dinner.
4. Love makes one perjure oneself.
Thais 1. The ideal Hetaera, faithful to none.
Thesaurus 1. Love is a severe god, especially to the old.
2. Music is the food of love.
3. The lover must be bold.
(In order to estimate at its true value the prominence of misogyny in the
following passages, it is well to remember that a large proportion of the
_Fragmenta Incerta_ of Menander are found in Christian collections of
apophthegms.)
Incert. 1. If you have once married, then you must put up with
it.
3. A man ought to be allowed the chance of getting to know his
wife before marriage; for every woman is an evil, but then one
could choose the least. (Cp. 102.)
6. Invective against Prometheus for creating women.
7. The sudden effects of a kiss.
8. The polygamous habits of the Thracians.
14. Of the nature of love.
16. Women are afraid of death, and seek comfort for trouble in
tears.
27. Women have no gratitude.
32. A girl’s wooing. (Transl. in Plaut. _Cist._ i. 1, 91.)
36. The advantages of a πόρνη over a respectable woman.
πλείονα κακουργεῖ, πλείον’ οἶδ’, αἰσχύνεται
οὐδέν, κολακεύει μᾶλλον.
54, 55, 57. One should not marry money.
58. The man who contemplates marriage must consider whether he
prefers beauty or worth.
73. A man stands up for his wife.
99. Virtue doubles the value of beauty.
100. A woman must try to lead her husband, not drive him.
101. None are so closely related as man and wife.
102. A man who marries, may count it as a great good if his
wife is only a slight evil.
103. The troubles of a family man.
104. Advice against marriage.
105. Marriage is a necessary evil.
106. A woman’s fair words are most to be feared. (Cp. 197.)
107. An Hetaera cannot be expected to be good, for she makes
her living out of mischief.
112. A mother loves her children more than a father.
114. The unmarried daughter in the house.
117. A lover’s threats are not serious.
133. A respectable woman does not dye her hair.
154. Educating a woman is like giving poison to a viper.
155. The dangers of beauty.
156. Your wife will be nasty without being taught.
185. A bit of the marriage ceremony.
196. Love cannot be controlled by reason.
198. Women are consistent liars.
199. Night is the time for love.
241. An Hetaera’s dress.
256. One must not trust a woman.
258. It is safer to stir up a dog than an old woman.
259. Women are irritable. (Cp. 499.)
294. The behaviour of a low woman.
346. Stupid women.
469. An oath to a woman is not binding.
I have added an analysis of the _Gnomae Monostichi_, for the sake of
completeness. No one will, of course, attach any importance to the views
expressed in this nondescript collection. [Cp. Kock, _Com. Att. Fr._ vol.
iii. praef.]
56. The happiness of being unmarried. (Cp. 78, 437, 468, 595.)
77. The expensiveness of wives.
83. Women are the better for being silent.
84. The ideal woman is the good housekeeper.
85. A woman may save or ruin a house.
86. Do not trust a woman. (Cp. 633.)
87. Women consider nothing but their own wishes.
90. There is nothing so wretched as an old man in love.
91. The man who wants to marry changes his mind.
92. Virtue, not gold, adorns a woman.
93. A good wife saves a man’s position.
94. It is not easy to find a good woman.
95. It is better to bury a woman than to marry her.
97. A wife is an expensive luxury.
98. Marry your wife, not her money.
99. A good wife is the helm of a household.
100. A woman cannot rule; it is against nature.
102. Marriage is an evil men bring on themselves.
103. When about to marry you should consider your neighbours.
106. Women are bad counsellors.
109. All women are alike.
134. Woman is the source of every ill. (Cp. 541, 623.)
156. Love cannot withstand poverty. (Cp. 159.)
160. Some women are virtuous.
161. Women are faithless. (Cp. 560.)
181. Women are a cause of ruin.
195. A woman’s jealousy.
197. A married man is a slave.
199. Try and get a woman as your ally.
211. Don’t marry mere money.
215. A man must rule his wife.
231. Women are as dangerous as sea and fire.
233. A bad woman is a treasure-house of evil.
248. Women are fiercer than beasts.
260. A woman should stay at home.
261. A bad woman is like poison.
264. Woman is like the sea.
267. Woman is as fierce as a lioness.
304. Woman is a necessary evil.
324. A wife is a constant cause of grief.
327. A woman is worse to live with than a lion.
333. A woman’s virtue is worth more than her beauty.
334. A woman is full of evil.
353. Never abuse or advise a woman.
355. Never let a woman into your counsels.
361. Never waste anything good on a woman.
382. Marriage is slavery.
410. A lover’s anger is short-lived.
413. There is nothing worse than a pretty woman.
426. A harlot’s weeping is like a lawyer’s.
469. A woman is dirt silvered over.
493. Woman is a pleasant ill.
540. A bad woman is like a storm in the house.
575. A woman is like a fire.
600. Women flatter with an object.
634. The value of a good wife. (Cp. 675.)
684. May my friends never marry.
700. Women ruin many men.
734. Pretty women are conceited.
735. Your wife is worth taking trouble for.
750. A daughter is hard to dispose of.
757. A poor man should not marry.
PHILEMON.
Adelphi 1. Praise of Solon for having introduced prostitution.
Babylonius. An Hetaera’s prospects.
Pyrphorus. Greater beauty than any painter could depict.
Synephebus. An Hetaera’s dress.
Incert. 31. A lady going out with a pretty servant. (Cp. Plaut.
_Mercator_, ii. 3, 69.)
32. The affectations of a μῦς λευκός.
35. The man who fell in love with the statue.
44. A good wife obeys her husband.
49. The growth of love.
64. A dutiful son and his mother.
76. Where women meet, there is sure to be mischief.
77. Worth is better than beauty.
78. There is no need to teach a woman mischief.
85. The folly of taking counsel with a woman.
95. A conceited woman.
103. Woman is an immortal necessary evil.
105, 106. Advice not to marry.
124. A city of beautiful women.
DIPHILUS.
Pallace. A woman’s ornament.
Synoris 1, 2, 3. A parasite and an Hetaera playing dice.
Theseus 2. A Samian lady’s riddle.
Zographus 1. An Hetaera entertains lavishly.
Incert. 2. An outburst against the trade of the πορνοβοσκός.
6. An ugly girl, from whom even a dog won’t take a
piece of bread.
16. The oath of an Hetaera is not to be believed.
33. It is hard to find a good woman.
34. A virgin is a treasure that it is not easy to guard.
47. A woman described as a carcase.
ARCHEDICUS.
Dihamartanon. A dishonest Hetaera.
The fragments of HIPPARCHUS, LYNCEUS, and APOLLODORUS GELOUS contain no
allusions to women.
EXCURSUS I.
[P. 163.]
_THE QUESTION OF WOMEN’S RIGHTS IN THE MIDDLE COMEDY._
It is usual to assume that there was, during the earlier part of
the fourth century, a strong agitation at Athens in favour of
“women’s rights.” The social status of the Theban, as well as of the
Lacedaemonian, women, had been brought, owing to political events,
under the notice of even the most consistent Athenian, and advantage
is supposed to have been taken of this fact by the advocates of female
liberty at Athens, to endeavour to obtain for the women there some of
those privileges which notoriously belonged to their neighbours. This
being so, it will be interesting to consider in how far, if at all, this
movement is reflected in the literature of the period.
The general treatment of women in the Middle Comedy being such as it
is, there would be every reason to expect to find plays in which these
efforts of women to obtain more general recognition from men, would be
made the subject of more or less contemptuous ridicule. The fashion
started by Aristophanes in the _Ecclesiazusae_ must have been, one would
have thought, too fascinating to be abandoned.
The fact, however, remains that, in such portions of the Middle Comedy
as still exist, there is practically no trace of anything of the kind.
There are, it is true, one or two titles of plays which seem at first
sight suggestive, but further investigation generally reveals little.
Thus the _Gynaecocratia_ and the _Gynaecomania_ of Amphis both seem
aimed, not at the tyranny of women in general, but at the tyranny of
wives.[370]
As for the _Gynaecocratia_ of Alexis, all that can be gathered from the
fragments is that it seems to have had certain features in common with
the _Scenas Catalambanusae_ of Aristophanes; as to its tone or tendency,
there is no clue in the two short passages that remain.
The suggestion made above (p. 228) as to the meaning of the fragment of
the _Atalanta_ of Philetaerus is, of course, purely conjectural, and
cannot, therefore, bear evidence either way.
And that is all. This almost entire absence from the Middle Comedy of
plays dealing with the question of “women’s rights,” would seem to
justify a certain hesitation in accepting the common view that this
question was at the time a burning one. So general a silence on the
point, in a literature which deals exhaustively with every other phase of
contemporary life, seems not unreasonably to suggest that the extent and
influence of the movement have been exaggerated, and that, as far as it
existed at all, it was confined to a small body of enthusiasts, and was
well-nigh without effect on the body of the nation at large.
EXCURSUS K.
[P. 187.]
_SOME FURTHER NOTES ON FAMILY RELATIONS AS TREATED IN MIDDLE AND NEW
COMEDY._
Though it has nothing to do with our immediate subject, it may be
interesting to notice briefly the attitude of the New Comedy towards
that description of family problems which the _Canace_ of Euripides and
similar works had made popular among certain classes of art-lovers. That
such works had ever any great hold over the public at large is neither
proved nor probable.
In the first place, we may notice the unpleasant accident by which, in
the _Curculio_, the soldier is made unconsciously to buy his sister
as his mistress. Here, however (Plaut. _Curc._ v. 2, 55 _seqq._), as
soon as the recognition takes place, Planesium is at once given in
marriage by her brother to her lover—as soon, that is to say, as her
consent has been obtained to this course (_ibid._ 73). In the Middle
Comedy _Epidicus_, where a similar incident occurs, the behaviour of
Stratippocles is somewhat less correct (Plaut. _Epid._ v. 1, 42 _seqq._),
though here, too, the side of propriety is at once championed by the
slave, and prevails without any real delay. That incidents of this kind
were not uncommon in New Comedy seems probable from the nature of that
class of drama, but there is no reason to suppose that they ever had
any other conclusion than that which occurs in the cases quoted above.
Cases of rivalry between father and son, such as occur in the _Casina_
and the _Mercator_, belong to a class of drama which has nothing to do
with romantic New Comedy. The _dénouements_ of the _Asinaria_ and the
_Bacchides_, which are so little sympathetic to modern ideas, are both to
some extent apologised for by their authors,[371] and also, as will be
observed, occur in plays which have Hetaerae for their heroines.
A certain lack of regard for decency on the part of the father in the
son’s presence, and _vice versâ_, (which is rather startling to the
modern reader in such passages as Plaut. _Asin._ v. 2, 30 _seqq._, Ter.
_Heaut. Timor._ iii. 3, 1, and elsewhere,) is probably most simply
explained by _autres temps autres moeurs_. Altogether, it would seem that
the privacy which is to modern ideas somewhat of an essential in these
matters, was at a considerable discount at this period of society. Cp.
Plaut. _Bacch._ iii. 3, 73 _seqq._, _Curc._ i. 3, 16 _seqq._, etc.
Lastly, attention may be called to Hanno’s rather remarkable method of
searching for his lost daughters. (Plaut. _Poen._ prolog. 106 _seqq._).
Whether this is intended for a realistic study of Semitic habits, can be
left to others to decide.
FOOTNOTES
[1] The expression is, of course, an awkward one, for the word “romance,”
like “chivalry,” embodies the old superstition that such feelings were a
product of the Christian Middle Ages; but this and similar expressions
are so generally used in this connection, that there is little real risk
of misunderstanding, and I cannot think of anything better.
[2] Among the many arguments in favour of the social emancipation of
women at the present day, I have never heard it suggested that such an
emancipation would inevitably lead to an increase of chivalrous feelings
on the part of men; the general view seems to be that it would have just
the contrary effect.
[3] Very noticeable is the preponderance of goddesses in the Greek
Pantheon. The powers of nature, whether of sea, mountain, river, or
forest, were almost invariably incarnated in the form of women.
[4] This change, retrograde or not, according to taste, may be exactly
paralleled from the social history of the Arabs.
[5] It is both instructive and amusing to compare this primitive ideal
woman with the contemporary Greek woman, as Hesiod himself knew and
described her. A striking passage is _Op._ 693 _seqq._, and others will
be mentioned in the next few pages.
[6] That this was the general character of the erotic legends introduced
into the celebrated “Catalogus” ascribed to Hesiod, seems shown by the
remark in Serv. _ad. Aen._ vii. 268: “Hesiodus etiam περὶ των γυναικῶν
inducit multas heroidas optasse nuptias virorum fortium”; cp. the whole
note.
[7] The parallel view, that if a man wished to really love anyone, the
only worthy object he could find would be another man, was doubtless, in
part, the result of a similar line of argument, though its true origin
must of course be sought in something more inspiring than mere contempt
for women. A further examination of this side of the question will be
made later on.
[8] Zeus pays ἄποινα to Tros for his son (cp. _Hymn. Hom._ iv. 210); that
the golden shower in which he visited Danae means as much, is hardly a
primitive notion. The argument in Ach. Tat. ii. 37 is ingenious, but
scarcely convincing.
[9] This version of the relations between Zeus and Minos is at least as
old as the _Odyssey_. Cp. _Odyss._ xix. 179; Athen. xiii. 601E.
[10] _Hymn. Hom._ iv. 247 _seqq._
[11] The general view that the erotic version of this story is not the
original seems to rest on the sole authority of Aesch. _Cho._ 613 _seqq._
Probably one version is as old as the other, the one being perhaps
Dorian, the other Ionian. Aeschylus’ treatment of Dorian erotic legends
will be touched upon later. (_Infra_, p. 42.)
[12] A man may sometimes commit suicide after the death of his lady; but
that is a very different thing to dying because she declines to have
anything more to do with him. Stories like that of Iphis and Anaxarete
only appear at a very late period.
[13] Athen. xiv. 619C.
[14] Hermes. _Leont._ i. _Fr._ 3. (Ed. Bach.)
[15] Theocr. i. 82 _seqq._ Cp. Reitzenstein, _Epigramm und Skolion_, p.
212 _seqq._
[16] Serv. _ad Ecl._ viii. 68.
[17] Theocr. vii. 72.
[18] The only real exceptions to this rule are, perhaps, Sappho and her
followers!
[19] Theognis, 183; cp. Pseudo-Phocylides, 189. Very similar in spirit is
Hesiod’s advice to the farmer to get
οἶκον μὲν πρώτιστα γυναῖκά τε βοῦν τ’ ἀροτῆρα. _Op._ 403.
[20] That is to say, these feelings by themselves. As regards the
first, no one, of course, would wish to deny that the sexual instinct,
in its most sensual form, has often played a prominent part in what is
unquestionably love-poetry; but the sexual instinct can never of itself
supply the fundamental basis of the feeling necessary for the production
of such poetry. Woman, regarded _merely_ as a source of pleasure or
convenience, can no more be an object of love than a bottle of brandy or
a railway train.
[21] Cf. Hes. _Op._ 700, _seqq._ A comparison of that passage with the
types mentioned in Simonides, _i.e._ the γυνὴ γηΐνη and the γυνὴ ἐξ ὄνου,
would seem to show that the sense of δειπνόλοχος is not so much ‘fishing
for invitations to dinner,’ _i.e._ fond of going out (so L. and S.),
as ‘waylaying dinners,’ _i.e._ making havoc of the food, like Plautus’
‘pernae pestis.’ Wastefulness in household matters was much more likely
to ‘burn up’ a Greek husband, and bring him to a ‘cruel old age,’ than
any amount of frivolity or flirtation. For the idea cp. Aristoph. _Eccl._
226.
[22]
ἡ δὲ μελίσσης
οἰκόνομός τ’ ἀγαθὴ καὶ ἐπίσταται ἐργάζεσθαι·
ἧς εὔχου, φιλ’ ἑταῖρε, λαχεῖν γάμον ἱμερόεντα.
[Phoc. _Fr._ 3.]
ἱμερόεντα sounds to a modern ear almost like bitter irony.
[23] Nor, for that matter, is the Hetaera, whom later writers manage so
to idealise, treated with any more respect or courtesy than the wife. Cp.
Archil. _Fr._ 142, 184; Hippon. _Fr._ 110, 111. In curious contrast to
what may be called the ‘wife-poetry’ of the early Greeks is the pretty
picture in Hesiod (_Op._ 517, _seqq._) of the unmarried girl, sitting at
home, in every sense of the words κακῶν ἄπειρος. But strangest of all is
the touch where, falling unconsciously into a manner of speech that dated
from a very different social state, he calls her
οὔπω ἔργ’ εἰδυῖα πολυχρύσου (!) Ἀφροδίτης.
[24] “But even these are as nothing compared to the real gush of feeling
when he describes his youthful passions, his love for Neobule, passing
the Homeric love of women. Here he has anticipated Sappho and Alcaeus,
&c.”—Mahaffy, _Class. Gr. Lit._ i. p. 160.
[25] Perhaps Glaucus, for there is at least as much reason for supposing
that Glaucus was the object of Archilochus’ affection as that he was
the object of his scorn. To see in him a prototype of the Egnatius of
Catullus, as, for instance, Lafaye does (_Catulle et ses Modèles_, p.
29), is quite unwarranted by any evidence; for the epithet κεροπλάστης of
_Fr._ 57 is not necessarily derogatory, while the tone of such passages
as _Fr._ 54, 70, is certainly not that of invective.
[26] _Fr._ 100-3, 106-7, 109-10, 116.
[27] It may further be observed that the passage is to all appearances
descriptive of the emotions of some person other than the writer himself,
and there is certainly no reason to suppose that it was addressed to the
woman in question. The difference between describing such an emotion
generally, and describing it as one’s own, to the person who causes it,
need hardly be dwelt upon.
[28] Cp. _Fr._ 71, 72.
[29] To endeavour, as some have done, to reconstruct the satires of
Archilochus from those of Catullus, is simply labour thrown away, because
between the periods in which the two poets lived, the whole way of
regarding women had been revolutionised, and ideas which seemed obvious
to the Latin writer would have been unintelligible to the Greek. To
Catullus thwarted love was an agony; to Archilochus it was an insult,
and no man of his time would, or could, have regarded it otherwise.
Thus, to suppose, as Lafaye (_op. cit._ l.c.) does, that the satires of
Archilochus were interspersed with erotic passages, like Catull. xxxix.
(a poem he considers to be imitated from Archilochus), is to suppose an
anachronism.
[30] His date, and the general character of his poems, make it more
convenient to consider him here, than among the other choral lyric
writers, of whom we shall speak later.
[31] Ἀρχύτας δὲ ὁ ἁρμονικός, ὥς φησι Χαμαιλέων, Ἀλκμᾶνα γεγονέναι τῶν
ἐρωτικῶν μελῶν ἡγεμόνα, καὶ ἐκδοῦναι πρῶτον μέλος ἀκόλαστον, (ἀκόλαστον)
ὄντα καὶ περὶ τὰς γυναῖκας, καὶ τὴν τοιαύτην μοῦσαν (εἰσαγαγεῖν) εἰς τὰς
διατριβάς.
Athen. xiii. 600 F.
(The reading is uncertain.)
[32] It is noteworthy that Archytas (_ap._ Athen. _l.c._), when wishing
to illustrate Alcman’s love for this lady, can quote nothing more pointed
than the lines
τοῦθ’ ἁδεᾶν Μωσᾶν ἔδειξεν
δῶρον μάκαιρα παρσένων
ἁ ξανθὰ Μεγαλοστράτα.
[_Fr._ 37.]
[33] The fragments which may with some confidence be assigned to these,
probably early, poems, are 29 and 94. Besides this, the mention of
Tantalus (87, to which belongs 100) may well have been introduced by the
story of Ganymede; that of Niobe’s children (109) by the story of those
loves of theirs of which Sophocles afterwards wrote. The expression ἐν
Θεσσαλίῳ κλείτει (85) might well in such a poem have had reference to
Apollo and Admetus, whose love is held up as a model, like that of the
lovers in Theocritus xii. But most striking of all, perhaps, to the
modern reader, is the feeling that prompts Alcman to speak of the Spartan
girls as his “female boy-friends.” (καὶ Ἀλκμὰν τὰς ἐπεράστους κόρας ἀΐτας
λέγει. Hypoth. _ad Theocr._ xii.)
[34] Aristides ii. p. 40, Dind.
[35] Cp. _Fr._ 26.
[36] Alcman seems somehow to speak of girls like an old man. To think
of him so, renders far more natural the charming gallantry of his lines
on Agido, or the ὑποκορισμός with which his maidens speak, or his
confessions of how he likes his dinner served. One can think of those
Spartan girls laughing at their old Lydian dancing-master, as they ran
away down to the “baths of Eurotas,” while he went slowly home and made
them immortal.
[37] Anyhow, not in primitive times. One must go a long way down the
history of erotic poetry to find a “love-poet” who praises two ladies
with such impartiality as Alcman does Agido and Agesichora.
[38] Cp. Reitzenstein, _Epigramm und Skolion_, p. 47 _seqq._
[39] That the love thus generally recommended was purely sensual, goes
without saying; the first two or three lines of the first fragment are
proof enough of this.
In _Fr._ 1, l. 3, μείλιχα δῶρα is not very satisfactory, somehow. The
passage in _Hymn. Hom._ x. 2, where the expression occurs again, is
not quite parallel. In a less primitive poet, one would write without
hesitation μείλιχ’ ἄδωρα. For this use of μείλιχα cp. Pind. _Olymp._ i.
49, and for the thought _Anth. Pal._ v. 29, &c., &c. Line 4 again might
begin ἄνθε’ ἐπεί γ’ ἥβης.
[40] _Leont._ iii. 37, of which passage Poseidippus was doubtless
thinking in his epigram _Anth. Pal._ xii. 168.
[41] _Leont._ iii. 27 _seqq._ 47 _seqq._ &c.
[42] Suidas, it may be remarked, flatly contradicts one half of this view
when he says of Mimnermus ἔγραψε βιβλία πολλά.
[43] It is hardly justifiable to infer from the passage of Alexander
Aetolus _ap._ Athen. xv. 699 C, that Mimnermus addressed love-poems to
boys.
[44] It is as a philosopher that Horace (_Ep._ i. 6, 65) cites his
opinion:
si, Mimnermus uti censet, sine amore iocisque
nil est iucundum;
“censet,” the regular word for a philosopher. It is further worth
noticing that the Roman poets, when they mention Mimnermus, speak of him
as the inventor of the elegiac metre, not as an erotic poet. Cp. _e.g._
Prop. i. 9, 11.
[45] That the ancients already recognised the importance of this
particular feature in Anacreon is shown _inter alia_ by the emphasis laid
upon it by Critias (_ap._ Athen. xiii. 600 D).
[46] Vide _e.g._ Athen. xii. 540 E.
[47] Striking instances of this are to be found in _Fr._ 13, 76, etc.
[48] That this tone was specially characteristic of the poems addressed
to women, if not actually confined to these, is shown by the contrast
which the ancient critics made between Anacreon’s two styles of poetry.
Cp. Plut. _Amor._ 4, and _infra_ p. 86.
[49] The arguments of Reitzenstein, _Epig. u. Skol._ p. 81 _seqq._,
to prove that its date is not later than _circa_ 400, are not very
convincing.
[50] Vide Reitzenstein, _op. cit._ p. 52 _seqq._
[51] The exceptions would be the late “sophistical” pieces, such as that
in praise of wealth, 699 _seqq._ etc.
[52] It may be argued that in a work intended “for the use of schools”
the erotic passages would naturally be cut out. But even granted
that this collection was made for the use of schools, the system of
expurgation, which, while striking out the passages dealing with women,
has left what would nowadays be considered so much more objectionable, is
in itself sufficiently noteworthy. The next schoolmaster who undertakes a
school edition of Theocritus may lay this to heart.
[53] How different is the treatment of boy-love both in Book I. and also
in Book II., which is specially devoted to it, will be dwelt upon later.
[p. 88.]
[54] Vide Excursus A.
[55] Cp. Aristoph. _Vesp._ 1217 _seqq._
[56] The only exception, rather an interesting one, is _Scol._ 20, which,
evidently modelled on the one that precedes it, is the answer of a
woman-lover. But here again the vagueness (merely καλὴ γυνή, anyone will
do) shows what the singer means.
[57] Perhaps, too, those of Althaea (in the _Syotherae_) and Medea (_Fr._
54).
[58] _Fr._ 68; to the same poem evidently belongs _Fr._ 85.
[59] There is really no adequate reason for disbelieving the story in
Ptol. Hephaest. iv. (Gale, _Hist. poet. script. ant._ p. 320; cf. Bergk.
_ad Stesich._ _Fr._ 26.) What that story seems to imply is that Helen
of Himera deserted the poet, who was thereby induced to moralise on the
innate faithlessness of Helens in general. A subsequent reconciliation
with the lady in question then led to the celebrated apology. The greater
influence which women seem to have had over old men than over young,
will already have been noticed in the cases of Alcman and Anacreon. The
phenomenon could easily be explained, if it were necessary to explain
it.—Vide _e.g._ Eur. _Suppl._ 1098 _seqq._
[60] That in the original form of the legend Daphnis refuses to yield to
love, and dies sooner than submit, has been shown by Reitzenstein, _Epig.
u. Skol._ p. 193 _seqq._
But the passage from Aelian (_Var. Hist._ x. 18) never says that
Stesichorus told the story of Daphnis. It says he wrote bucolic poetry,
which is not necessarily the same thing. If only Theocritus, who wrote
bucolic poetry, had told some more of the story of Daphnis, the necessity
of reading a great quantity of literature on the subject would have been
spared us.
[61] It is rather tempting to think of this story as a Greek version of
Tristan and Isolde. Rhadina is going from Samos to be married to the
King of Corinth, and travels out with her cousin Leontichus on the same
ship. There the fatal mischief is done; they separate for a while, but
the charm is irresistible, and her lover hurries from Delphi to meet his
death at the hands of the Corinthian “King Marc.”
[62] The name of Cycnus seems at first sight suggestive, but the story as
related in the Scholiast on Pindar unfortunately proves nothing.
[63] He seems to have discussed or commented on the habits of the Spartan
ladies (_Fr._ 61), but whether to praise or blame we do not know.
[64] _e.g._ _Fr._ 37, where he makes Achilles marry Medea; or _Fr._ 38,
where Hermione becomes the wife of Diomed.
[65] _Fr._ 13, _ad fin._ The Ἐρωτικά of Bacchylides are not very elevated
in character, but they are interesting as furnishing what is, perhaps,
the first complimentary notice of the ἑταίρα in literature. (_Fr._ 24.)
[66] The Sicilian Telestes makes rather an interesting remark about
Athene when she throws away the flute because it spoils her looks:
τί γάρ νιν εὐηράτοιο κάλλεος
ὀξὺς ἔρως ἔτειρεν,
ᾇ παρθενίαν ἄγαμον καὶ ἄπαιδ’ ἀπένειμε Κλωθώ;
But, as we have already seen, men took more interest in women in Magna
Graecia than in Greece itself.
[67] The _Phaedra_, _Oenomaus_, and perhaps the _Colchides_.
[68] Among the extant plays there is only the _Hippolytus_, and even in
this, probably to the Greek mind a great part of the interest centred
in the relations between Hippolytus and Theseus, and in their argument,
where both start from the assumption that it would be absurd to suppose
that the former could possibly have been in love with Phaedra. Of the
lost plays it is hard to speak with confidence, but certainly the
_Andromeda_, _Phoenix_, and _Aeolus_, seem to have been the only three in
which the love element was at all the leading motive. The heroine of the
_Meleager_ was probably Althaea, not Atalanta. The _Stheneboea_ merely
describes the vengeance of Bellerophon for the treachery of his hosts.
In the _Antigone_ the “love-story” has all taken place before the action
begins. Of the _Alcestis_ and the _Protesilaus_ we shall speak elsewhere,
pp. 57, 99.
[69] That is to say, two only in which it furnished the main interest.
That it lent a peculiar character to various other tragedies will be
shown further on.
[70] Cp. what has been said above (p. 35) in the case of Ibycus; the
parallel is a remarkable and important one.
[71] The statement to this effect in Aristoph. _Ran._ 1044, is so
definite that it seems necessary to infer from it that, in spite of the
words in Schol. _ad Apoll. Rhod._ i. 773, the erotic incident in the
_Hypsipyle_ was very little emphasised.
[72] _Suppl._ 996 _seqq._
[73] _Theb._ 182 _seqq._
[74]
πῶς οὐχὶ τἀνάλωμα γίγνεται πικρόν,
ἄνδρας γυναικῶν οὕνεχ’ αἱμάξαι πέδον;
_Suppl._ 476.
καὶ γυναικὸς οὕνεκα
πόλιν διημάθυνεν Ἀργεῖον δάκος.
_Agam._ 823.
[75]
οὕτω γυναικὸς οὐ προτιμήσω μόρον
ἄνδρα κτανούσης.
_Eum._ 739.
To his views as to the physical unimportance of the mother, as compared
with the father (_e.g._ _Eum._ 657 _seqq._), I shall have occasion to
refer later. See Excursus. [This Excursus does not seem to have been
written.]
[76] How far Aeschylus has followed the _Oresteia_ of Stesichorus, and
how far he has modified it, cannot now be known; but it seems reasonable
to suppose that, in all probability, the Clytemnestra of the latter poet
was a good deal more in love with Aegisthus than is the Clytemnestra
of the former. This would explain some incongruities in the Aeschylean
character, such as her sudden protestations of affection for Aegisthus
when dead, after her apparent indifference to him when living. (_Cho._
893, etc.) That she should kill Agamemnon out of revenge for the death
of Iphigeneia and through jealousy of Cassandra, are perhaps additions
of Aeschylus, to whose Athenian mind it seemed impossible that a woman
should murder her husband merely because she was fond of another man.
[77] One may say, of course, if one likes, that this is all ironical,
that she does not mean it, and that in reality she is as jealous as
anyone else could be, as her subsequent actions show. Personally, I do
not believe that the passage is meant to be in the least ironical; the
absence of jealousy is always a feature of the model wife (_cp._ Eur.
_And._ 222, and numerous similar passages); but even if this be granted,
it makes no difference to the point at all. Whatever the audience are to
think, the characters on the stage are supposed to take her seriously;
and this fact throws a sufficient light on what was then thought to be
the duty of a loving wife.
It is satisfactory to notice that neither does Heracles attach any
undue importance to Iole. In his last words to Hyllus, after elaborate
instructions as to how his funeral-pyre is to be built, he adds casually—
ἀλλ’ ἀρκέσει καὶ ταῦτα· πρόσνειμαι δέ μοι
χάριν βραχεῖαν πρὸς μακροῖς ἄλλοις διδούς.
“Just marry Iole for me, will you?” (l. 1216.)
[78] In this same play, the reader must be careful not to misunderstand
the motives of Haemon’s suicide. He does not kill himself out of grief
for Antigone, but out of shame (αὑτῷ χολωθείς) at having attacked his
father. That love for a woman should have made him so far forget himself
was a disgrace not to be borne.
[79] The words of l. 144 _seqq._ at once suggest Catullus lxii. esp. 39
_seqq._ But this poem of Catullus is generally admitted to be, if not an
actual translation, at least a paraphrase of Sappho; hence it is far more
probable that Sophocles copied Sappho here, than that Catullus copied
Sophocles there.
Another instance in which a tragedian copied an _Epithalamium_ of Sappho
is furnished by Aesch. _Suppl._ 998. _Cp._ Sappho _Fr._ 91, Longus
_Past._ 3, 33, and my _Apospasmata Critica_ (Oxford, Blackwell, 1892), p.
5.
[80] A great deal of light would be thrown on all this intricate subject
if only one could find out how far, if at all, Sophocles was influenced
by Euripides. Euripides, as we shall see later, was always ready to
sympathise with women who suffered from the unreasonable treatment of the
time, but it does not seem _prima facie_ probable that this particular
trait should have had influence on anyone so Athenian as Sophocles.
Anyhow, these two passages prove nothing.
[81] This is exactly the idea of the well-known Ἔρως chorus in the
_Antigone_. (l. 781). There, too, love is unavoidable (καί σ’ οὔτ’
ἀθανάτων φύξιμος οὐδεὶς, οὔθ’ ἁμερίων σέ γ’ ἀνθρώπων), it results in
madness (ὁ δ’ ἔχων μέμηνεν, “the stricken one is mad,” as the Romans said
“habet” of their gladiators), and the chief damage it does is to property
(ὃς ἐν κτήμασι, πίπτεις). Like Eresichthon’s father, what the Chorus most
object to is the expense.
[82] [p. 38.]
[83] Vide Excursus B.
[84] This feature is of course by no means peculiar to Sophocles; it is
prominent both in Aeschylus and Euripides (_e.g._ the pathetic passage in
_Orest._ 1041 _seqq._), and doubtless for the same reason. In Sophocles,
however, perhaps owing merely to the chance which has preserved certain
plays while others have been lost, it plays a particularly important
part. Not only are the _Antigone_ and the _Electra_ almost entirely
devoted to it, but the one ray of light in the 1800 lines of the _Oedipus
Coloneus_ is the farewell of Polynices to his sister. (l. 1414 _seqq._)
[85] Soph. _Ant._ 909 _seqq._ This seems the natural and obvious way of
taking these words, but whichever way one takes them they do not imply
any very great respect for matrimony.
Whether the lines are Sophocles’ or not is of course indifferent in this
connection, as everyone is agreed that, if an interpolation, they are a
very early one.
[86] This is not, I think, saying too much. A story like that of Canace,
however powerfully it might affect its audience, was, after all, even in
later times, looked upon as something quite exceptional in Greece. (Cp.
the later Athenian view on the subject as illustrated by Plaut. _Epid._
v. i. 45, _seqq._)
[87] It is worth while, however, to notice that even the women themselves
in Aristophanes are made to confess that this so-called misogyny is, in
truth, merely realism. Cp. _e.g._ Aristoph. _Thesm._ 389 _seqq._, _Eccl._
214 _seqq._
[88] _e.g._ _Fr._ 822, etc.
[89] _Fr._ 321.
[90] _Hipp._ 373 _seqq._ Tempting as it is to take this passage as
ironical, it would almost certainly be wrong to do so.
[91] _Hec._ 342 _seqq._
[92] See Excursus C. It is true that in the intrigue of Macareus and
Canace there is some reason to believe that the former was, contrary to
the usual habit of these legends, the leading spirit; but in the _Aeolus_
of Euripides this beginning of the story seems to have only been alluded
to in the prologue, and not to have formed part of the action.—Cp.
Antiphanes, _Aeol. Fr._ 1.
[93] The most striking example is perhaps the _Iphigeneia in Aulis_, but
there are plenty of others.
Instances in which women are represented as in love with men are somewhat
commoner, as they were commoner in the legends; but the part they play in
Euripides, as a whole, has been greatly exaggerated. Cp. p. 38.
[94] ἤρων· τὸ μαίνεσθαι δ’ ἄρ’ ἦν ἔρως βροτοῖς.—_Fr._ 161 (_Antigone_).
Cp. _Hipp._ 443 _seqq._
[95] Suidas (s.v. Ἀναγυράσιος) τούτου δὲ (τοῦ θεοῦ) ἐξέκοψέ τις τὸ ἄλσος·
ὁ δὲ τῷ υἱῷ αὐτοῦ ἐπέμηνε τὴν παλλακήν ... ἱστορεῖ δὲ Ἱερώνυμος ἐν τῷ
περὶ τραγῳδοποιῶν, ἀπεικάζων τούτοις τὸν Εὐριπίδου Φοίνικα. Cp. id. s.v.
ἐναύειν. Vide Nauck, _Trag. Graec. Frag._ p. 621.
[96] The difference is described with wonderful force by Maximus Tyrius
(xxv. 4): ὁ μὲν ἐφ’ ἡδονὴν οἰστρεῖ, ὁ δὲ κάλλους ἐρᾶ· ὁ μὲν ἄκων νοσεῖ, ὁ
δὲ ἑκὼν ἐρᾷ· ὁ μὲν ἐπ’ ἀγαθῷ ἐρᾷ τοῦ ἐρωμένου, ὁ δὲ ἐπ’ ὀλέθρῳ ἀμφοῖν.—I
have spoken here merely of women because we have so little absolute
evidence as to men, but what little we have all goes to prove that
their view of “love” was at least as sensual as that of the women, and
if anything even more brutal; and, anyhow, there is no evidence of the
contrary. It is very hard satisfactorily to compare Euripides with people
like Asclepiades, who are the earliest representatives we know of the
modern spirit, for this very reason, that while the former nearly always
discusses the matter from the point of view of the woman, the latter do
so with almost equal regularity, as far as we can now judge, from the
point of view of the man. One thing, however, is clear enough at the
very outset. While Euripides regards the relation between man and woman
as entirely based on the sexual instinct, the Alexandrians have from the
first imported into it that further feeling of comradeship and mutual
self-sacrifice which had before been peculiar to the relation between man
and man. For obvious reasons this great change first became noticeable on
the side of the man (for the influence of Sappho’s school had probably by
this time become inappreciable), but its effects are evident enough as
soon as the Alexandrians begin to talk of a woman’s love. The difference
between, say, the Medea of Apollonius and the most refined heroine of the
Attic drama is one, not of degree, but of kind.
[97] _Andr._ 205 _seqq._
[98] The early Greek view of “love” is put here with almost revolting
crudeness. Hermione’s devotion to her husband and Helen’s desertion of
hers, are due to one and the same cause—sensual passion.
[99]
γυναῖκα γὰρ χρὴ πάντα συγχωρεῖν πόσει,
ἥτις φρενήρης.
(_Elect._ 1052.)
[100]
ἀλλ’ ἐς τοσοῦτον ἥκεθ’ ὥστ’ ὀρθουμένης
εὐνῆς γυναῖκες πάντ’ ἔχειν νομίζετε,
ἢν δ’ αὖ γένηται ξυμφορά τις ἐς λέχος κ.τ.λ.
(_Med._ 569.)
ΙΑ. λέχους σφε κἠξίωσας οὕνεκα κτανεῖν;
ΜΗ. σμικρὸν γυναικὶ πῆμα τοῦτ’ εἶναι δοκεῖς;
ΙΑ. ἥτις γε σώφρων.
(_ibid._ 1367.)
[101] πᾶσα γὰρ δούλη πέφυκεν ἀνδρὸς ἡ σώφρων γυνή.—_Fr._ 545 (_Oedipus_).
[102] Cp. Andromache in _Tro._ 642 _seqq._ Other instances are numerous.
This view and that as to jealousy evidently hang together, for it must
be admitted that if a wife considers it her duty to become so supremely
uninteresting and stupid as such a method of life must inevitably make
her, it is also her duty to be lenient to her husband if he occasionally
seeks for entertainment outside the domestic circle.
[103]
οὐ γὰρ ποτ’ ἄνδρα τὸν σοφὸν γυναικὶ χρὴ
δοῦναι χαλινοὺς.
_Fr._ 463 (_Cressae_); cp. _Fr._ 464.
[104] _Tro._ 1012 _seqq._; cp. _Hipp._ 419 _seqq._
[105] _i.e._ her means of livelihood.
τὰ μὲν γὰρ ἄλλα δεύτερ’ ἂν πάσχοι γυνή·
ἀνδρὸς δ’ ἁμαρτάνουσ’ ἁμαρτάνει βίου.
(_Andr._ 372; cp. _ibid._ 904.)
[106] _Fr._ 402 (_Ino_).
[107] Cp. _Andr._ 1279 _seqq._; _Fr._ 215 (_Antiope_), &c.
[108]
οὐκ ἔστι τοῦδε παισὶ κάλλιον γέρας,
ἢ πατρὸς ἐσθλοῦ κἀγαθοῦ πεφυκέναι,
γαμεῖν τ’ ἀπ’ ἐσθλῶν· ὃς δὲ νικηθεὶς πόθῳ
κακοῖς ἐκοινώνησεν, οὐκ ἐπαινέσω,
τέκνοις ὄνειδος οὕνεχ’ ἡδονῆς λιπεῖν.
(_Heracl._ 297.)
[109] To what extent it also figured in that strange play, the
_Protesilaus_, cannot now be known, but it is only probable that it was
prominent there also.
[110] Here again one almost marvels at the way in which Euripides misses
an opportunity. The contrast between the joy of Alcestis at saving
Admetus’ life, and her grief for her ruined ideal, would have furnished
as splendid a conflict of emotions as any dramatist could desire.
Athenian taste, however, preferred that she should die congratulating him
on having had such a wife, while he stands by expressing his deep regret
that he cannot accompany her, as Charon does not issue return tickets.
For a further examination of the motives of Admetus, however, see p. 101.
[111] It must be admitted that Jason has a higher opinion of his own
influence (_Med._ 942 _seqq._), if, indeed, this be the right way to take
the passage.
[112] This seems to have been still more the case in the first version
of the play, where Hippolytus appears actually as a βουκόλος, or ascetic
worshipper of Artemis, and where he is promised immortality as the reward
of his constancy. See Reitzenstein, _Epig. u. Skol._ p. 210 _seqq._ and
Excursus D.
[113]
oἱ σώφρονες yὰp οὐχ ἑκόντες, ἀλλ’ ὅμως
κακῶν ἐρῶσι.
(_Hipp._ 358.)
[114] One may argue, of course, that Hippolytus, as a devotee of Orpheus,
etc., would be naturally more prone to ignore the “love-element” than a
person of more human passions, and that this strange disproportion in his
speech is a mark of his character. Personally I doubt this, as, firstly,
the characters of the Athenian drama, when making their set speeches,
generally quite forget who they are—indeed, the wonder is they don’t
sometimes slip into an ἄνδρες δικασταί—and, secondly, if Hippolytus had
been meant to slur over an important part of his subject, his reasons
for so doing would have been more definitely explained. The conclusion
seems to me inevitable, that neither Hippolytus nor Theseus thought the
possibility of the former’s having been in love with Phaedra worthy of
serious discussion.
[115] Mahaffy, _Class. Gr. Lit._ vol. i. p. 370.
[116] It is true that, later on, the magnificent heroism of Iphigeneia
extorts from Achilles what is perhaps one of the earliest declarations of
love from a man to a woman that we know:
Ἀγαμέμνονος παῖ, μακάριόν μέ τις θεῶν
ἔμελλε θήσειν, εἰ τύχοιμι σῶν γάμων·
ζηλῶ δὲ σοῦ μὲν Ἑλλάδ’, Ἑλλάδος δὲ σέ.
(l. 1405.)
But this utterance, made under such exceptional circumstances, cannot
counteract the effect of what has gone before; and, anyhow, it is a
curiously isolated expression, and rather a qualified one.
[117] Worthy of notice is the excellent touch which makes this man,
though poor, yet a member of a good family. (l. 37.) As Euripides knew
well enough, a son of the soil would have been incapable of even this
much refinement of feeling. We may observe, by the way, that Orestes
expresses himself as very sceptical of the whole story—anyhow as far as
motives go. (l. 253 _seqq._)
[118] _Hel._ 566 _seqq._ Still more offensive, of course, are the
suggestions of Ion to his mother (_Ion_ 1523 _seqq._); but there the
offence is against decency, not against romance.
[119] Except occasionally, as already noticed, in the case of close
blood-relations.
[120] Such erotic legends as he does introduce are treated with strangely
little sympathy. The best (in the extant odes) is that of Pelops and
Hippodameia (_Olymp._ 1), where the writer has, perhaps, been roused to
a little warmth by the story of Pelops and Poseidon that has immediately
preceded. The legend of Peleus and Hippolyte (_Nem._ 5) is noticeable as
being, strangely enough, the only one in which the woman is represented
as taking the initiative; but this is doubtless to be explained by the
fact that nearly all these stories are descriptive of the amours of
_gods_. The story of Jason and Medea is utterly spoiled in _Pyth._ 4.
In that of Apollo and Coronis (_Pyth._ 3) only the unfaithfulness of
the nymph and her punishment are dwelt upon. The other erotic stories
told—_i.e._ those of Apollo and Euadne (_Olymp._ 6), Apollo and Cyrene
(_Pyth._ 9), Zeus and the daughter of Opoeis (_Olymp._ 9), Ixion and Hera
(_Pyth._ 2), are merely concerned with seductions of the most commonplace
kind. The story of Rhoecus and the Hamadryad (_Fr._ 165) is the only one
of importance alluded to in the fragments; but here it is uncertain how
far Pindar told the story, and how far he merely alluded to it.
[121] [On the position occupied by women in the Old Comedy compare _Women
in Greek Comedy_, § 3, 4.]
[122] Cp. Theocr. vii. 39.
[123] One or two points are perhaps worth noticing in this connection. It
is usual to assume that the Battis of Philetas was an Hetaera; but the
evidence seems rather to suggest that she was his wife. The way in which
she is spoken of in Ovid, _Trist._ i. 6, 2, _Pont._ iii. 1, 57, (in the
former place coupled with the Lyde of Antimachus,) seems to support this
view; and, at any rate, there does not appear to be any evidence to the
contrary. The personal character of Philetas, as we learn it from various
notices of him, seems also rather to point in the same direction; though
this is not, of course, an argument that can be pressed. (It would be
interesting to know whether the fact that Philetas is apparently never
alluded to under a nickname, like so many others of the Alexandrian
writers, was due to this austerity of character.)
Whether these elegies were as sober and as little sensual in tone as
those of Antimachus (cp. _infra_, p. 110), it is impossible now to say;
though the two passages cited from Ovid both seem indirectly to imply
that they were, and there is certainly nothing in the fragments of
Philetas which would lead one to infer that they were not. It need hardly
be added that the passage in Ovid, _Ars Amat._ iii. 329 _seqq._ proves
nothing, for the “lascivia” there ascribed to Sappho is obviously not
meant to apply to all the other poets mentioned in the list, or Vergil’s
name would hardly appear in it.
[124] In the poems of Theognis, which are practically epigrams, in the
later sense of the word. The epigrams of Plato, if genuine, would be
another even more striking instance.
[125] Whether the words are to be taken as really seriously meant is, of
course, doubtful, though one’s instinctive distrust of their sincerity is
perhaps misplaced; for, after all, this is very primitive poetry of its
kind. That such words should have been written at all is the remarkable
point about them.
[126] [Cp. p. 81, n. 1.]
[127] Vide _e.g._ _Anth. Pal._ v. 158.
[128] The reading ποτέ is certainly happier than παρά. _Cp. Theocr._
xxix. 39; vide _infra_ p. 84.
[129] xii. 153 is further interesting as one of the very few of the
earlier epigrams, which profess to describe the woman’s feelings.
[130] In the _Antilais_; vide Meineke, _Com. Fr._ iii. p. 365.
[131] The above instances may serve to give some idea of the prevailing
character of Asclepiades’ epigrams; on the wonderful grace and charm
of this new love-poetry, it is needless to dwell. The best and truest
description of Asclepiades and his followers ever given, is that of
Meleager, when he calls them the wild-flowers in his Garland.
ἐν δὲ Ποσείδιππόν τε καὶ Ἡδύλον, ἄγρι’ ἀρούρης,
Σικελίδεώ τ’ ἀνέμοις ἄνθεα φυόμενα.
_Anth. Pal._ iv. 1, 45.
[132] Those who do not care to read the proof of this really self-evident
fact, can skip the next 28 pages, and pick up the thread again on p. 103.
[133] _Vide_ Rohde, _Der griech. Roman_, p. 42.
[134] His sorrow for Briseis does not, of course, as already observed,
go very deep, as is sufficiently shown by the little effect which her
restoration has on him; and his indignation at her loss is doubtless due
to wounded self-love, more than to love of any other description. But,
none the less, the introduction of such an incident shows clearly how
little the purely military hero was in sympathy with Greek ideas.
[135] There is an elaborate analysis of this erotic element in Max. Tyr.
xxiv. 8: καὶ τὸν ἀνδρεῖον (ἔρωτα) ἐπὶ τῷ Πατρόκλῳ, τὸν πόνῳ κτητόν καὶ
χρόνῳ, καὶ μέχρι θανάτου προερχόμενον, νεῶν καὶ καλῶν ἀμφοτέρων, καὶ
σωφρόνων, τοῦ μὲν παιδεύοντος, τοῦ δὲ παιδευομένου, ὁ μὲν ἄχθεται, ὁ
δὲ παραμυθεῖται, ὁ μὲν ᾄδει, ὁ δὲ ἀκροᾶται. ἐρωτικὸν δὲ καὶ τὸ τυχεῖν
ἐθέλοντα ἐξουσίας πρὸς μάχην, δακρῦσαι ὡς οὐκ ἀνεξομένου τοῦ ἐραστοῦ· ὁ
δὲ ἐφίησι, καὶ τοῖς αὐτοῦ ὅπλοις κοσμεῖ, καὶ βραδύνοντος περιδεῶς ἔχει,
καὶ ἀποθανόντος ἀποθανεῖν ἐρᾷ, καὶ τὴν ὀργὴν κατατίθεται. ἐρωτικὰ δὲ καὶ
τὰ ἐνύπνια, καὶ τὰ ὀνείρατα, καὶ τὰ δάκρυα, καὶ τὸ τελευταῖον δῶρον ἤδη
θαπτομένῳ ἡ κόμη.
It need hardly be pointed out that this central pair is not an isolated
phenomenon. Ajax and Teucer (of whom we shall have occasion to speak
again, p. 99), Idomeneus and Meriones, Diomed and Sthenelus, are obvious
examples of similar relations among the subordinate characters.
[136] Its prevalence among the Lacedaemonians, in spite of the
influential position of women in that state, is vouched for by the
usage of the word λακωνίζω. Vide Meineke, _Com. Fr._ ii. pp. 200, 1088.
(The derivation mentioned by Photius, Meineke _l.c._, seems due to
Aristophanes, and need not be taken seriously.)
[137] Athen. xiii. 561 E. On this principle, the Ἱεpὸς Λόχος founded
by Epaminondas was composed entirely of youths and their lovers,
παιδικῶν γὰρ παρόντων ἐραστὴς πᾶν ὁτιοῦν ἕλοιτ’ ἂν παθεῖν ἢ δειλοῦ δόξαν
ἀπενέγκασθαι. Athen. xiii. 602 A, cp. 561 F; Max. Tyr. xxiv. 2.
[138] Athen. xiii. 561 D. Cp. Paus. ix. 31, p. 771.
[139] Athen. xiii. 609 F.
[140] Schol. _ad Theocr._ xii. 29.
[141] This view was, of course, especially prominent at Athens, where
Harmodius and Aristogeiton had become well-nigh the ‘patron saints’ of
the democracy. Very interesting in this connection is the remark in Ath.
xiii. 562 A, that the Peisistratidae, after their expulsion, were the
first persons who ventured to slander this form of intimacy. Cp. too Max.
Tyr. xxiv. 2. The important part that it played in, at any rate, the
old-fashioned Athenian education is shown by more than one passage in
Aristophanes, of which the most striking is perhaps _Nubes_, 972 _seqq._;
cp. 1002 _seqq._
[142] Athen. xiii. 602 D. διὰ τοὺς τοιούτους οὖν ἔρωτας οἱ τύραννοι
(πολέμιοι γὰρ αὐτοῖς αὗται αἱ φιλίαι) τὸ παράπαν ἐκώλυον τοὺς παιδικοὺς
ἔρωτας, πανταχόθεν αὐτοὺς ἐκκόπτοντες.
[143] The gymnasium is always a prominent feature in this connection.
Cp. Catull. lxiii. 64; _Anth. Pal._ xii. 123; Ach. Tat. ii. 38, πάσης δὲ
γυναικῶν μωραλοιφίας ἥδιον ὄδωδεν ὁ τῶν παίδων ἱδρώς.
[144] Athen. _loc. cit._
[145] Athen. xiii. 561 D. σεμνόν τινα τὸν Ἔρωτα καὶ παντὸς αἰσχροῦ
κεχωρισμένον. Very characteristic in this respect is the story of
Agesilaus, related in Xen. _Ages._ v. 4, 5; cp. Max. Tyr. xxv. 5, xxvi.
8. Other noticeable instances will appear in the next few pages.
[146] Demosth. 1401.
[147] Hence it is not without significance that, according to a common
story, the originator of this form of intimacy was said to be Orpheus.
See Ovid, _Met._ x. 83; Phanocles, _Fr._ 1.
[148] Antimachus already seems to have been inclined to ridicule the
story of Heracles and Hylas. (Vide _Fr._ 8.) Plato and “Platonic” love
are, of course, stock subjects throughout the Middle Comedy. (Vide _e.g._
Amphis, _Dithyramb. Fr._ 2; Meineke, _Com. Fr._ iii. p. 307.) The nature
of this general attack on the philosophers must not be misunderstood. It
is an error to suppose that the more old-fashioned among the Athenians
disapproved, in the first instance, of the philosophers because they were
paederasts; it would be truer to say that they turned against paederasty
because it was so intimately associated with philosophy.
[149] The poems of Strato form, of course, an exception; but then the
incidents on which they are based are professedly the product of his
own, not always very charming, imagination. Cp. _Anth. Pal_. xii. 258. A
further fact worth noticing is that abstract love-poems (_e.g._ xii. 50)
are regularly placed among the Παιδικά.
[150] The reader will perhaps be thinking of another love “passing the
love of women.” One might write many pages on the differences between
these two similar emotions.
[151] Whatever opinion one may have as to Homer’s own intention, it
cannot be denied that this was the Greek view of the relation between
Achilles and Patroclus from a very early period. This is clearly shown
by the fact that Aeschylus of all people treated it in this way in his
_Myrmidones_. That the attachment was further regarded as a perfectly
pure one might be equally proved from the fragments of that tragedy, if
indeed proof were necessary. Insinuations like those elaborated at the
end of Lucian’s _Amores_ are a much later aftergrowth.
[152] Vide _supra_, pp. 21, 22.
[153] Vide _supra_, p. 24.
[154] Theocr. xxix. and xxx.
[155] _E.g._ the image of Time with wings on his shoulders (xxix. 29).
For this reason I have not cared to urge the expression Ἀχιλλέϊοι φίλοι
in xxix. 34, as a proof that Alcaeus took this view of the relation
between Achilles and Patroclus. (Vide _supra_, p. 82.)
[156] Thus Maximus Tyrius (xxiv. 9) compares the love of Sappho to that
of Socrates. ὁ δὲ τῆς Λεσβίας (ἔρως) ... τί ἂν εἴη ἄλλο, ἢ ἡ Σωκράτους
τέχνη ἐρωτική; δοκοῦσι γάρ μοι τὴν κατὰ ταυτὸ ἑκάτερος φιλίαν, ἡ μὲν
γυναικῶν, ὁ δὲ ἀρρένων, ἐπιτηδεῦσαι.
[157] Vide _supra_, p. 35.
[158] Cp. Theocr. xxix. 10,
ἀλλ’ εἴ μοί τι πίθοιο νέος προγενεστέρῳ.
[159] A striking record of temptation resisted is to be found in l. 949
_seqq._, but this is almost certainly by a later hand.
[160] l. 237 _seqq._
[161] For an examination of the Second Book of Theognis, vide Excursus E.
[162] Athen. xv. p. 694 _seqq._ This number excludes the poems of Hybrias
and Aristotle, which are different in character from the rest.
[163] Of the remaining ten, the first four are religious, and only three
contain any mention of women, two of these being coarse.
[164] [p. 31.]
[165] For, as we have seen, one of the first of these canons was that the
public expression of private emotions was an offence against art no less
than against decency, and this would tend to exclude from the stage all
forms of love equally. In the case of woman-love there were, of course,
special objections; that was why the _Myrmidones_ was the first erotic
play of any kind produced; but this is beside the present issue.
[166] For the story in Aelian, _Var. Hist._ ii. 21, as to the relation
between Euripides and Agathon, does not seem to be more than a vague
piece of scandal.
To this must be added the fact that the earlier part of the century was
the time when such a subject would most readily have appealed to the
Athenian imagination. Later on, and especially from the fourth century
onwards, the changed position of women was beginning to make itself felt
in the way we have seen.
[167] Athen. xiii. 601 A, where it is further noted that these plays were
received with applause.
[168] According to Schol. _Ar. Ran._ 911, first of all, μέχρι τριῶν
ἡμερῶν οὐδὲν φθέγγεται.
[169] The reader must be careful here to give the proper sense to
σέβας ἁγνόν, translating “ne sancta quidem reverentia qua casta
atque intemerata tua femora servavi, te movit, ingrate, etc.” _Fr._
136, whether genuine or not—it reads very like a misquotation of its
predecessor—must obviously mean the same, in spite of Theomnestus and
Lucian.
[170] Athen. xiii. 601 B.
[171] Startling as it appears at first sight, this is probably the
simplest way of understanding Athenaeus’ τὸν τῶν παίδων (_sc._ ἔρωτα).
Those who have properly appreciated what such ἔρως meant to the early
Greeks, will not be surprised to find the term applied to the affection
of an elder for a younger brother.
[172] Plut. _Amor._ 17, p. 760 D, τῶν μὲν γὰρ τοῦ Σοφοκλέους Νιοβιδῶν
βαλλομένων καὶ θνησκόντων ἀνακαλεῖταί τις οὐδένα βοηθὸν ἄλλον οὐδὲ
σύμμαχον ἢ τὸν ἐραστήν.
[173] Cp. Aristoph. _Vesp._ 579.
[174] The marked differences in the versions of the legend, and the fact
that it appeared in the _Theogamia_ of the pseudo-Peisander—a writer who
seems to have drawn his materials in most cases from early sources—seem
to show that it must have been of a certain antiquity, and anyhow was
not a pure invention on the part of Euripides. The evidence of Aelian
(_N. H._ vi. 15), though of little value, is to the same effect: Λάϊος δὲ
ἐπὶ Χρυσίππῳ, ὦ καλὲ Εὐριπίδη, τοῦτο οὐκ ἔδρασεν, καίτοι τοῦ τῶν ἀρρένων
ἔρωτος, ὡς λέγεις αὐτός, καὶ ἡ φήμη διδάσκει, Ἑλλήνων πρώτιστος ἄρξας.
[175] The remark of the Scholiast that the behaviour of Laius to
Chrysippus was parallel to that of Zeus to Ganymede, like the similar
remark in Cicero (_loc. cit._), belongs of course to an age when the
primitive meanings of the legends had long been forgotten. The allusion
to the legend in Aristoph. _Pelargi_, _Fr._ 1 is too general to give
evidence either way. See Meineke, _Com. Fr._ ii. p. 1126 _seq._
[176] That this is the relation between Ajax and Teucer in Homer already,
is pretty clear. Vide _e.g._ _Il._ ix. 266 _seqq._; cp. Schol. _Theocr._
xii. 29. This, no doubt, accounts for the frequent mention of Ajax in the
_Scolia_ (cp. p. 90).
[177] Supposing Tecmessa appeared as champion for the dead Ajax, everyone
would acknowledge this, and no one would find the situation dull: only
people will not understand that Teucer meant as much, and more, to the
Greeks, than Tecmessa would to us.
[178] The position of Alcestis has already been partly discussed on p. 57.
[179] Vide Call. _Hymn. in Apoll._ 49; Panyasis, _Fr._ 15 (Dübner);
Schol. _ad Eur. Alc._ 2; Lact. i. 10, 3.
[180] Cp. _supra_, pp. 24, 31.
[181] When the Scholiast (_ad Eur. Alc._ 1) says that the version of the
story of Apollo’s servitude given in the Prologue is the usual one (ἡ διὰ
στόματος καὶ δημώδης), he need mean no more by this than the fact that
this was the case at the time of writing, when the influence of Euripides
had naturally superseded all others. The Scholiast cannot be taken as
throwing light on the state of feeling in Athens at the time when the
_Alcestis_ was produced.
[182] I am not concerned here to write an apology for Admetus, or I might
add much that would militate against the ordinary, somewhat flippant,
view taken of his character. One point, however: many readers do not
seem to notice that the original question of dying or not is never in
the play left to Admetus at all, but is settled by Apollo on his own
responsibility. Cp. Eur. _Alc._ 11 _seqq._, 32 _seqq._
[183] Cp. Eur. _Alc._ 10, etc.
[184] Cp. the lengthy comments on the play in Lucian, _Amores_ 47, vol.
ii. p. 450.
[185] On this point cp. above, p. 48.
[186] An exception to this general rule is, perhaps, Theocritus; whether,
or how far, this was due to the influence of Aratus is an interesting
question, but one for the discussion of which the evidence has yet to be
collected.
[187] _Fr._ 125.
[188] And the interval is in reality even longer, for but little of the
later work of Aristophanes has survived.
[189] For an examination of the fragments of the Middle Comedy, _vide_
Excursus F.
[190] It may not be out of place to emphasise here once more the
difference that exists between regarding women as an object of interest
or importance, and regarding them as an object of love; for the two
have been confused by many, not only in estimating the influence of
Euripides (cp. _supra_, pp. 40, 50), but also in considering the events
of the earlier part of the fourth century. Thus many have pointed to the
agitation in favour of “women’s rights” satirised in the _Ecclesiazusae_,
or to the great social importance of the Hetaerae (as illustrated in the
Middle Comedy, &c.), or to the generally ameliorated condition of women
of every class, as proofs of the existence at this period already of the
romantic feeling. But to those who care to consider the matter clearly,
it must be apparent that all these things are really beside the question.
The improved state of women and their increasing power may have helped,
and doubtless did help, to spread the romantic feeling when once it had
originated; but they were in the first instance entirely independent
of it. One does not _ipso facto_ feel a romantic attachment for people
because one is compelled to recognise them socially, while in these
days of extended franchises it is surely not necessary to repeat that
political recognition is not the same as love.
[191] Cp. Quint. x. 1, 53; _Anth. Pal._ vii. 409, &c.; vide Dübner, _Asii
&c. Frag._ p. 28 _seqq._ (at the end of Didot’s _Hesiod_).
If the epigram attributed to Antimachus in _Anth. Pal._ ix. 321, be
really his, he must further be regarded as one of the originators of the
Dedicatory Epigram. Cp. Reitzenstein, _Epig. u. Skol._ p. 131.
[192] For a full account of it, vide Bach, _Philetas, &c._, Epimetrum
iii. (p. 240); Dübner, _op. cit._ p. 40.
[193]
Λύδης δ’ Ἀντίμαχος Λυσηΐδος ἐκ μὲν ἐρωτος
πληγεὶς Πακτωλοῦ ῥεῦμ’ ἐπέβη ποταμοῦ.
Σαρδιανὴν δὲ θανοῦσαν ὑπὸ ξηρὴν θέτο γαῖαν,
Τμώλιον αἴζαον δ’ ἦλθεν ἀποπρολιπὼν
ἄκρην ἐς Κολοφῶνα, γόων δ’ ἐνεπλήσατο βίβλους
ἱράς, ἐκ παντὸς παυσάμενος καμάτου.
(Hermesianax, iii. 41.)
Ἀντίμαχος ὁ ποιητὴς, ἀποθανούσης τῆς γυναικὸς αὐτοῦ Λύδης,
πρὸς ἢν φιλοστόργως εἶχε, παραμύθιον τῆς λύπης αὑτῷ ἐποίησε
τὴν ἐλέγειαν τὴν καλουμένην Λύδην, ἐξαριθμησάμενος τὰς ἡρωϊκὰς
συμφορὰς, τοῖς ἀλλοτρίοις κακοῖς ἐλάττω τὴν ἑαυτοῦ ποιῶν λύπην.
(Plut. _Cons. ad Apoll._ p. 106 B.)
The very important detail that he _married_ her is confirmed by the
passage in Athen. xiii. 597A, where the Lyde of Antimachus is expressly
contrasted with τὴν ὁμώνυμον ταύτης ἑταῖραν Λύδην.
Cp. too Ovid, _Trist._ i. 6, 1:
nec tantum Clario Lyde dilecta poetae,
nec tantum Coo Battis amata suo est,
pectoribus quantum tu nostris, uxor, inhaeres.
[194] This respect for marriage (if one extends the idea of marriage
sufficiently to cover every form of union which is faithfully
observed—whether actually legalised by some particular ceremony or not,
is, in this connection, not very material) will, I think, be found
underlying the whole Greek conception of romance. This is, of course,
diametrically opposed to the view of the mediaeval barbarians, who held
that the one woman in the world one could not love was one’s wife.
Whether Lyde or Isolde be the higher ideal is, perhaps, a matter of
taste; _magno se iudice quaeque tuetur_. That I personally prefer the
Greek to the barbarian is perhaps due to prejudice, but it is prejudice
for which I am very grateful.
A further illustration may be found in the Latin elegiac poets.
Propertius, the “Roman Callimachus,” who is always calling attention to
the Greek sources of his inspiration, addresses all his love-poems to
the Hetaera Cynthia, to whom he remained faithful to the end. Ovid only
invokes the Greeks (Antimachus in _Trist._ i. 6, 1; Philetas in _Trist._
i. 6, 2, _Pont._ iii. 1, 58) when addressing his wife. Tibullus and
Catullus, the poets of adultery, never acknowledge in their love-poems
their Greek predecessors, and Catullus even goes out of his way to abuse
one of them.
[195] The _Cleitophon and Leucippe_ of Achilles Tatius is, of course,
an exception (the only extant one) to this rule, but then this late and
curious work differs in other respects also from the typical Greek novel.
[196] It is most interesting to note how that, while in the earlier
comedy marriage is the one great subject of ridicule, in the new comedy
marriage is the hero’s one great ambition.
[197]
Ναννοῦς καὶ Λύθης ἐπίχει, δύο καὶ φιλεράστου
Μιμνέρμου καὶ τοῦ σώφρονος Ἀντιμάχου.
_Anth. Pal._ xii. 168.
For φιλεράστου Cod. Vat. gives φερεκάστου, which might also, perhaps, be
retained in this sense.
[198] _De Compos. Verb._ p. 300. He is here, of course, speaking
primarily of the literary style; but literary style is in most cases more
or less a reflection of literary treatment.
The severe style of Antimachus’ _Thebaid_ is well known. (Vide Quint, x.
1, 53; _Anth. Pal._ vii. 409, 4.)
[199] Ἀντιμάχου τοῦ Κολοφωνίου καὶ Νικηράτου τινὸς Ἡρακλεώτου ποιήμασι
Λυσάνδρια διαγωνισαμένων ἐπ’ αὐτῷ (sc. Λυσάνδρῳ) τὸν Νικήρατον
ἐστεφάνωσεν· ὁ δὲ Ἀντίμαχος ἀχθεσθεὶς ἠφάνισε τὸ ποίημα. Πλάτων δὲ νέος
ὢν τότε καὶ θαυμάζων τὸν Ἀντίμαχον ἐπὶ τῇ ποιητικῇ, βαρέως φέροντα τὴν
ἧτταν ἀνελάμβανεν καὶ παρεμυθεῖτο, τοῖς ἀγνοοῦσι κακὸν εἶναι φάμενος τὴν
ἄγνοιαν, ὡς τὴν τυφλότητα τοῖς μὴ βλέπουσιν.—Plut. _Lysand._ 18.
Nec enim posset idem Demosthenes dicere, quod dixisse Antimachum, Clarium
poetam, ferunt; qui cum, convocatis auditoribus, legeret eis magnum
illud quod novistis volumen suum, et eum legentem omnes praeter Platonem
reliquissent, Legam, inquit, nihilominus; Plato enim mihi unus instar est
omnium milium.—Cic. _Brutus_, 51, 191.
Ἡρακλείδης γοῦν ὁ Ποντικός φησιν ὅτι τῶν Χοιρίλου τότε
εὐδοκιμούντων Πλάτων τὰ Ἀντιμάχου προὐτίμησεν, καὶ αὐτὸν ἔπεισε
τὸν Ἡρακλείδην ἐς Κολοφῶνα ἐλθόντα τὰ ποίηματα συλλέξαι τοῦ
ἀνδρός.—Proclus, _Comm. in Plat. Tim._ i. p. 28.
Whether these anecdotes are actually true or not does not much matter.
That the friendship between Antimachus and Plato was a well-known fact
would be sufficiently proved by their invention; but there is nothing
really contradictory or improbable in them, as some have asserted. In the
story from Plutarch there is no need to suppose that Plato was actually
present at Samos; he may very well have met Antimachus afterwards
elsewhere. The evidence of Proclus again merely says that Plato, in
opposition to the prevailing opinion of his time, preferred Antimachus to
Choerilus, and that he sent Heracleides to Colophon to make a collection
of the works of the former, evidently after his death. It is consequently
quite possible to reconcile all three narratives. Antimachus was defeated
by Niceratus at the Lysandria, an event which, owing to his celebrity at
the time (404 B.C.), naturally excited remark. Subsequently he met Plato,
who, when the conversation turned on his defeat, complimented him in the
way described—a compliment which Antimachus returned on another occasion
(that alluded to by Cicero). Lastly, after Antimachus’ death, Plato
caused a collection of his works to be made. Where Plato met Antimachus
is not quite clear, but the ascription to the former of the epigram in
Athen. xiii. 589 C (_Anth. Pal._ vii. 217) would almost seem to imply
that there was, at any rate, a tradition that Plato visited Colophon.
If that was actually the case, he would naturally have come across
Antimachus there.
[200] _Anth. Pal._ xii. 168.
[201] Cp. p. 70.
[202] _I.e._ Peloponnesian War, 431-403; Lacedaemonian and Theban
Supremacy, 405-336; Macedonian Age, 336 onwards.
[203] Of the sense in which the unfortunate word “romantic” has to be
understood we have already spoken elsewhere. [p. 2.]
[204] It may be remarked in passing that this ideal character of the
“New” Comedy is not, as a rule, sufficiently recognised. People speak as
if they thought that the stories in Menander, for instance, represented
the ordinary events of life at Athens at the end of the fourth century.
It need hardly, perhaps, be remarked that it would be about as reasonable
to endeavour to get an idea of the ordinary life of English people at the
present day by studying an Adelphi melodrama. As long as comedy at Athens
confined itself to social satire, it is obvious that the social scenes
it depicted must have been, even if somewhat burlesqued, yet, on the
whole, true to life. When once it had abandoned this object, and began
to aim at telling an exciting story, calculated to interest its audience
in proportion to the strangeness and novelty of its _dénouement_, it is
equally obvious that it must very soon have been compelled to abandon the
ordinary affairs of everyday life. In taking over the business of the
Epic, Comedy took with it the license of that form of composition and of
its offspring, Tragedy. While no one will deny that incidents like those
described by Menander may have occasionally taken place at Athens in the
fourth century, just as some of them might conceivably take place in
England at the present day, there can be hardly any real doubt that the
stories of romantic comedy were as little true to the ordinary life of
the time they professed to depict, as, say, the novel of Xenophon was to
the ordinary life of the Roman provinces under the Antonines.
[205] It is true, of course, that the “New” Comedy took over from its
predecessor certain characters (_e.g._ the parasite or the cook) and
certain other features, practically unchanged; but all this was confined
to minor points of detail, and any similarity between the two forms
of art which such transference of ready-made _specialités_ may cause
is a purely superficial one. The main subject of romantic comedy, and
the treatment there of that main subject, are entirely distinct from
everything that had gone before.
[206] Thus the Megarian Comedy dates from the expulsion of Theagenes
(Arist. _Poet._ iii. 5), while the Athenian reappears, after a silence of
some 70 years, on the expulsion of Hippias.
[207] The titles of the plays attributed to Chionides do not in
themselves contradict this view. The _Heroes_ describes life as it would
be in a state engaged in war, but there is no reason to believe that the
play discussed any real phase of any contemporary war. The _Persae_,
too, to judge by its second title of _Assyrii_, was devoted rather to
ridiculing Persian customs than to dealing with the Persian War. In like
manner the _Lydi_ of Magnes introduced the Lydian dances to Athens (cp.
Hesych. λυδίζων, χορεύων, διὰ τοὺς Αυδούς _sc._ Μάγνητος), while the
_Barbatistae_ appears to have been equally aimed at the aesthetic tastes
of some part of the community. Titles again, like _Ornithes_, _Batrachi_,
and _Psenes_, give no suggestion of political motives, any more than does
the _Satyri_ of Ecphantides.
[208] τῷ χαρίεντι τῆς κωμῳδίας τὸ ὠφέλιμον προσέθηκε τοὺς κακῶς
πράττοντας διαβάλλων καὶ ὥσπερ δημοσίᾳ μάστιγι τῇ κωμῳδίᾳ μαστίζων (Anon.
_de Com._ p. 32). οὐ γὰρ ὥσπερ ὁ Ἀριστοφάνης ἐπιτρέχειν τὲν χάριν τοῖς
σκώμμασι ποιεῖ ... ἀλλ’ ἁπλῶς καὶ κατὰ τὴν παροιμίαν γυμνῇ κεφαλῇ τίθησι
τὰς βλασφημίας κατὰ τῶν ἁμαρτανόντων (Platon. _de Com._ p. 27).
[209] τοιοῦτος οὖν ἐστὶν ὁ τῆς μέσης κωμῳδίας τύπος, οἷός ἐστιν ... οἱ
Ὀδυσσεῖς Κρατίνου (Platon. _de Com._ p. 34). οἱ γοῦν Ὀδυσσεῖς Κρατίνου
οὐδενὸς ἐπιτίμησιν ἔχουσι, διασυρμὸν δὲ τῆς Ὀδυσσείας Ὁμήρου (_ibid._ p.
35).
The elaborate details as to cookery in the fragments of this play are
also very suggestive of one of the features of “Middle” Comedy.
[210] It is further to be observed that, though Cratinus nearly always
indulges in personal abuse, this abuse is by no means necessarily
directed against _political_ characters. Any person, whatever his
capacity, who was sufficiently well known to be recognised by the
Athenian audience, was liable to be the butt of his scurrility.
[211] Arist. _Poet._ v. 5. As Meineke (_Com. Fr._ i. 59) well expresses
it: “Cratetem primum apud Athenienses exstitisse qui Epicharmi exemplo
comicae poeseos materiam a singulorum hominum irrisione ad generales
morum notationes rerumque descriptiones traduceret.” Crates thus differs
from Cratinus in that his plays were not political, while he differs
from the earlier comedians in that he avoided personalities and treated
of general subjects, and this is the meaning of the word πρῶτος in
Aristotle, _l.c._
[212] ἐζήλωκε Κράτητα. Anon. _de Com._ p. 29.
[213] The law of Morychis, during the operation of which this play, like
the _Odysses_ of Cratinus and various others, seems to have been brought
out, is interesting as an early instance of the influence of political
events upon the development of early Athenian comedy, an influence
entirely absent in the case of the romantic comedy.
[214] Thus the final disappearance of the _parabasis_, though an
important enough event for the history of the form of Comedy, is but an
incident in the real development of the art. This is shown by the fact
that, when, under the law of Morychis, the _parabasis_ was temporarily
suspended, the result was the immediate appearance, at this date already,
of plays which belong, in spirit, entirely to “Middle” Comedy.
[215] This means the school of Cratinus, when unrestricted by
legislation, and allowed to take its own course. Prohibitive legislation
naturally tended to put the two schools of comedy on much the same
footing.
[216] The few exceptions will be considered presently. [p. 127.]
[217] [The author contemplated, but does not seem to have written, an
Excursus on “Pericles and Aspasia.”]
[218] In neither of these must it, of course, be supposed that the erotic
element was at all the leading motive. Most of the fragments of the
_Nemesis_ seem to refer to events which must be supposed to have taken
place some time after the erotic incident had been closed, while in the
_Seriphii_ the description of Andromeda as δελέαστρα (_Fr._ 12) is the
only allusion to her preserved. Indeed, it is vain in Cratinus to look
for any leading motive at all, for, as Platonius says of him (_de Com._
p. 27), εὔστοχος ὢν ἐν ταῖς ἐπιβολαῖς τῶν δραμάτων καὶ διασκευαῖς, εἶτα
προϊὼν καὶ διασπῶν τὰς ὑποθέσεις οὐκ ἀκολούθως πληροῖ τὰ δράματα.
[219] The apparent allusion to the Hetaera Myrrhina in Eupolis,
_Autolycus_, _Fr._ 10, is too uncertain to be of any value.
[220] The _Tyrannis_ (another suggestive title) also satirised the
drunkenness of women (cp. the fragment _ap._ Athen. xi. 481 B). It may be
remembered in this connection, that the introduction of drunken persons
on the stage was an invention of his master Crates.
[221]
τὸν ἰδρῶτα καὶ τὴν ἄρδαν ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ σπόγγισον.
The tone of address will surprise no one who remembers the scene between
Diphilus and Gnathaena (_ap._ Athen. xiii. 583 F), and others like it.
[This subject was to have been dealt with further in an Excursus.]
[222]
κἂν μὲν σιωπῶ, δυσφορεῖ καὶ πνίγεται,
καὶ φησι, τί σιωπᾷς; ἐὰν δ’ ἀποκριθῶ,
οἴμοι τάλας, φησίν, χαράδρα κατελήλυθεν.
[223] The precise nature of the differences between these early
“Hetaera-plays” and those generally in vogue at a later date, will be
examined when we come to consider the latter class of composition. [p.
153.]
[224] One can at least gather from _Fr._ 1, 2, 3, that the coming
together of the women was made the occasion of a series of jokes at
their expense, something after the manner of Mnesilochus and the baby in
Thesmoph. 689 _seqq._
[225] This seems to have been one of the main motives of the _Lemniae_;
at any rate, the nature of Aeschylus’ play on the same subject would
have afforded an excellent opportunity of the kind—Αἰσχύλος δ’ ἐν
Ὑψιπύλῃ ἐν ὅπλοις φησὶν αὐτὰς [τὰς Λημνίας] ἐπελθούσας χειμαζομένοις
[τοῖς Ἀργοναύταις] ἀπείργειν, μέχρι λαβεῖν ὅρκον παρ’ αὐτῶν ἀποβάντας
μιγήσεσθαι αὐταῖς. Schol. _ad Apoll. Rhod._ I. 773.
[226]
ἰδού, δίδωμι τήνδ’ ἐγὼ γυναῖκά σοι
Φαίδραν· ἐπὶ πῦρ δὲ πῦρ ἔοιχ’ ἥξειν ἄγων.
(_Polyid._ _Fr._ 2.)
[227] Cp. _Geras_, _Fr._ 5, 6, 7.
[228] Cp. _e.g._ the remarks of Phocion to his son: ἐμοῦ μέν, ὦ παῖ, τὴν
σὴν μητέρα γαμοῦντος οὐδ’ ὁ γείτων ᾔσθετο. Plutarch. _Phoc._ 30.
[229] _Vide e.g._ _Nubes_, 973 _seqq._, 1002 _seqq._
[230] Cp. the speech of Mnesilochus, _Thesmoph._ 466 _seqq._, the spirit
of which, all allowance for comic exaggeration being made, cannot be
mistaken.
[231] _Vide_ _Thesmoph._ 383 _seqq._ The subject and style of the
_Daedalus_ were equally uncomplimentary. Cp. _Fr._ 3.
[232] κωμῳδεῖται δὲ (ὀ Ἀριστοφάνης) ὅτι καὶ τὸ τῆς Εἰρήνης κολοσσικὸν
ἐξῆρεν ἄγαλμα, Εὔπολις Αὐτολύκῳ, Πλάτων Νίκαις. Schol. _Plat. Apol._ p.
331.
[233] It is worth noticing that, while a man who seduced an Athenian
citizen seems to have been legally bound to marry her, and therefore, to
a certain extent, there was no great virtue in his action if he did so,
at the same time this legal necessity was never, so far as we know, in
any way urged in any play of the New Comedy. The point will be more fully
discussed when we come to this part of our subject. [See p. 169.]
[234] Minos, quod Daedali opera multa sibi incommoda acciderunt, in
Siciliam est eum persecutus petiitque a rege Cocalo ut sibi redderetur.
cui cum Cocalus promisisset et Daedalus rescisset, ab regis filiabus
auxilium petiit. illae Minoem occiderunt. Hygin. _Fab._ 44.
Μίνως δὲ, ὁ τῶν Κρητῶν βασιλεύς, θαλαττοκρατῶν κατ’ ἐκείνους τοὺς χρόνους
καὶ πυθόμενος τὴν Δαιδάλου φυγὴν εἰς Σικελίαν, ἔγνω στρατεύειν ἐπ’
αὐτήν ... ὁ δὲ Κώκαλος, εἰς σύλλογον προσκαλεσάμενος καὶ πάντα ποιήσειν
ἐπαγγειλάμενος, ἐπὶ τὰ ξένια παρέλαβε τὸν Μίνω. λουομένου δ’ αὐτοῦ,
Κώκαλος μὲν παρακατασχὼν πλείονα χρόνον ἐν τῷ θερμῷ τὸν Μίνωα διέφθειρε,
καὶ τὸ σῶμα ἀπέδωκε τοῖς Κρησί, πρόφασιν ἐνεγκὼν τοῦ θανάτου διότι κατὰ
τὸν λουτρῶνα ὠλίσθηκε καὶ πεσὼν εἰς τὸ θερμὸν ὕδωρ ἐτελεύτησε. (Diodorus,
iv. 79.)
The story is told somewhat differently in Zenobius iv. 92. There Minos,
in order to discover Daedalus, goes about the world offering large
rewards to anyone who can run a linen thread through a spiral shell,
being convinced that no one but Daedalus would be able to do such a
thing. When he comes to Sicily, Cocalus, in order to gain the reward,
gives the shell to Daedalus, who bores a hole at the end, ties the linen
thread to an ant, and so does what is required. λαβὼν δὲ ὁ Μίνως τὸν
λίνον διειρμένον ᾔσθετο εἶναι παρ’ ἐκείνῳ τὸν Δαίδαλον καὶ εὐθέως ἀπῄτει.
Κώκαλος δὲ, ὑποσχόμενος δώσειν, ἐξένισεν αὐτόν. ὁ δὲ λουόμενος ὑπὸ τῶν
Κωκάλου θυγατέρων ἀνῃρέθη ζέουσαν πίσσαν ἐπιχεαμένων αὐτῷ.—This is the
version of the story followed by Sophocles in the _Camici_. (Cp. _Fr._
301, 302.)
It is worth noticing that Daedalus, according to Diodorus, iv. 78, made
a cave at Selinus, in which patients were treated by being subjected
to a gradually-increasing temperature. (τρίτον δὲ σπήλαιον κατὰ τὴν
Σελινουντίαν χώραν κατεσκεύασεν, ἐν ᾧ τὴν ἀτμίδα τοῦ κατ’ αὐτὴν πυρὸς
οὕτως εὐστόχως ἐξέλαβεν ὥστε διὰ τὴν μαλακότητα τῆς θερμασίας ἐξιδροῦν
λεληθότως, καὶ κατὰ μικρὸν τοὺς ἐνδιατρίβοντας μετὰ τέρψεως θεραπεύειν τὰ
σώματα, μηδὲν παρενοχλουμένους ὑπὸ τῆς θερμότητος.) It is, perhaps, not
impossible that Aristophanes may have described Minos’ death as occurring
in this cave.
[235] By the word “plot” as here used, must of course be understood
merely the erotic incident. That the action was not confined to one
subject of this kind is obvious to every reader of Aristophanes.
Whatever may have been the treatment of the erotic element, there can be
practically no doubt that this element was only one, perhaps not the most
important one, among the many that went to make up the play.
[236] _Fr._ 4 seems to suggest that there may have been a regular trial
instituted, as in the _Vespae_ (cp. _Vesp._ 807 _seqq._ with _Cocal._
_Fr._ 12), at which Daedalus was accused of complicity in the murder,
and his services to Cocalus as a builder (_Fr._ 5; cp. Diodorus, iv. 78)
urged on his behalf. This trial may well have had features in common with
the last scene in Euripides’ _Andromeda_.
[237] The fact that this play led to the abandonment of certain nocturnal
orgies is, of course, no proof that such habits altogether ceased, even
for a time; indeed, it is notorious that they did not.
[238] Even if it could be proved that the play ended with a wedding—such
endings are, as we have seen, not uncommon in Aristophanes—and that this
is what the grammarian means by his τἄλλα πάντα ἃ ἐζήλωσε Μένανδρος,
this would not, in itself, be enough to make the play a romantic one
after the manner of the later works. The marriage would have to be _an
act of reparation inspired by love_, and it need hardly be remarked how
utterly foreign any such feeling would be to the work of Aristophanes.
Such a difference in spirit and motive, however, important and obvious
as it seems to us, may very well have escaped the ancient critics,
whose criticism of art was well-nigh exclusively concerned with its
external and superficial qualities. Hence, if by any chance Aristophanes’
characters were despatched off the stage to the sounds of a wedding
march, it is easy to see how clear a proof this would have seemed to them
that the _Cocalus_ belonged to the same phase of art as the plays of
Menander, when, in reality, it did nothing of the kind.
[239] Cp. _infra_, p. 189 _seqq._
[240] Thus, to quote one instance among many, the habit, common among the
writers of the Empire, of describing Vergil as not only a supreme, but
also a universal, genius, is sufficiently familiar. (Cp. Mart. viii. 18,
&c.)
[241] τὸν μέντοι Κώκαλον, τὸν ποιηθέντα Ἀραρότι τῷ Ἀριστοφάνονς υἱεῖ,
Φιλήμων ὁ κωμικὸς ὑπαλλάξας ἐν Ὑποβολιμαίῳ ἐκωμῴδησεν. (Clem. Alex.
_Strom._ vi. p. 267 [628].)
[242] ἐπεπόλαζε γὰρ τότε ταῦτα, Ἡρακλῆς πεινῶν, καὶ Διόνυσος δειλός, καὶ
μοιχὸς Ζεύς. Schol. _ad Aristoph. Pac._ 740. The _Zeus Cac._ of Plato is
said to have borne a close resemblance to the _Daedalus_ of Aristophanes,
which certainly contained matter of this kind. Cp. Aristoph. _Daed._
_Fr._ 3.
[243] It is interesting to observe the absence, as far as one can judge,
of any reference to Sappho, the favourite butt of a somewhat later school
of comedians. Could the fact of this absence be conclusively proved, it
would afford valuable evidence for determining the date of the origin
of the Phaon and Sappho legend. The earliest reference to it at present
known is, perhaps, that in the _Leucadia_ of Menander.
[244] We may further observe the mention of Lais in _Fr._ 10 of this play.
[245] Cp. Ovid, _Met._ X. 686 _seqq._ The incident might be utilised in
various ways.
[246] Cp. Alciphron i. 39, 7. καταπαννυχίσασαι δ’ οὖν καὶ τοὺς ἐραστὰς
κακῶς εἰποῦσαι ... ᾠχόμεθα ἔξοινοι.
[247] _Vide_ Athen. xi. 470 F. σπινθήρ in l. 8 seems not to be the
proper-name of a slave, but may simply be translated “spark.” The
expression is as natural in Greek as in English, even if no other
instance of this exact usage occurs.
[248] The “Hedychares” of the title seems to be Plato, so that it is
rather tempting to imagine a scene something like the following. The
hero, after dilating sufficiently on the virtues of “Platonic” love, is
eventually discovered by one of the other characters, in company with a
woman under circumstances which suggest the propriety of their getting
married immediately—a fact which induces the intruder to exclaim:
φέρε σὺ τὰ καταχύσματα κ.τ.λ. (_Fr._ 3.)
The late date of this play (cp. _Fr._ 4) makes a plot of this kind by no
means impossible, but, of course, _hariolandi est infinita libertas_.
[249] Great care must be taken not to misunderstand the causes of this
prominence of the Hetaera in Middle Comedy. The fall of Athens, and
the events immediately preceding it, resulted in a revolution of the
Athenian social system, which was even more momentous than the political
overthrow. From this time onwards, the individual appears at Athens as
opposed to the state, in a manner that would not have been possible under
the earlier _régime_. Hence in the Middle Comedy, which is perhaps the
earliest individualistic poetry which Athens produced, ordinary habits
and private life come to be treated with an interest and a realism which
had never previously been attempted, and, as a consequence of this, the
Hetaerae come to the fore in literature. This fact does not, therefore,
imply that the position of these women in the thoughts of men was any
higher than had previously been the case, or that there was a growing
idea among the people that love for women was a worthy subject for
artistic study and representation. It simply means, as will be abundantly
clear later on, that the Hetaera was an important feature in private
life, and that, therefore, when private life came to be represented on
the stage, she was bound to appear there also, just in the same way and
for the same reasons as the cook and the fishmonger, who are also such
features of this literature.
[250] With the other distinctive features of Middle Comedy, though
occasional reference may be made to them, we have less to do. It may
not however be amiss, in passing, just to notice the spirit of the age,
which, while it required personal attacks on men to be more or less
veiled, allowed personal attacks of the fiercest description to be made
on women openly by name. A remarkable instance of this is the _Antilais_
of Epicrates, but it is far from being the only one. As for those Middle
Comedies which are called after public men (_e.g._ the _Theramenes_ of
Cratinus junior), it would be easy to believe that these were all, as
some of them certainly were, composed after the deaths of the persons
whose names they bear, and that these names were simply used as types, in
the way that Juvenal speaks of Tigellinus, &c.
[251] With regard to what we have described as the second feature of
Middle Comedy, it may perhaps just be remarked that this constant habit
of parodying and ridiculing love-stories would inevitably tend, in
some sort, to bring the whole matter of love into contempt. And that
the feelings of contempt so produced, and the similar feelings which
originated them, would act and react on one another till both became even
more accentuated, was equally inevitable. Nor must it be forgotten that
the influence of tragedy, which might otherwise have served to counteract
this tendency, was much less than it had been at an earlier period, for
the revivals and imitations of Euripides, which held the tragic stage
throughout the century, popular though some of them may have been,
belonged in spirit to the previous generation, and were thus to a certain
extent out of touch with contemporary feeling.
[252] Many plays of this class are called after real or imaginary
Hetaerae, such as the _Chrysis_ of Antiphanes, &c., &c., but these are,
of course, not the only ones that deal with the subject.
[253] Ἀντιφάνης ὁ κωμῳδοποιὸς ὡς ἀνεγίνωσκέ τινα τῷ βασιλεῖ Ἀλεξάνδρῳ τῶν
ἑαυτοῦ κωμῳδιῶν, ὁ δὲ δῆλος ἦν οὐ πάνυ τι ἀποδεχόμενος· δεῖ γάρ, ἔφησεν,
ὦ βασιλεῦ, τὸν ταῦτα ἀποδεχόμενον ἀπὸ συμβόλων τε πολλάκις δεδειπνηκέναι
καὶ περὶ ἑταίρας πλεονάκις καὶ εἰληφέναι καὶ δεδωκέναι πληγάς. (Athen.
xiii. 555A.)
[254] [_Supra_, p. 128.]
[255] No one who is familiar with the Middle Comedy is likely to wish
to maintain that the words παρθένων φθοράς imply that the plays of
Anaxandrides were similar in character to such plays as the _Andria_ or
the _Adelphi_ of Menander. The exact nature of the παρθένων ἔρωτες of the
Middle Comedy, which form, in fact, an infinitesimal part of the erotic
element in that literature, will be fully discussed lower down. [pp. 159,
213.]
[256] Curious in this connection is the fact that, while the _Captivi_ of
Plautus is the only extant play derived from Anaxandrides, it is, at the
same time, the only extant play of Latin Comedy which is not concerned
with erotic subjects.
[257] That τραγήματα was merely a polite word for drinking, seems clear
from Alexis, _Polycleia_:—
ὁ πρῶτος εὑρὼν κομψὸς ἦν τραγήματα·
τοῦ συμποσίου γὰρ διατριβὴν ἔξευρέ πως
κἀργοὺς ἔχειν μηδέποτε τὰς σιαγόνας.
[258] σῦκα, are doubtless used here in the same sense as “mariscae” in
Iuv. ii. 13, or “ficus” in Mart. vii. 71.
[259] Or, perhaps, the νεανίσκος tries the effect of the θηρίκλεια on the
girl herself (cp. the epigram of Hedylus, _Anth. Pal._ v. 199); _sed haec
omnia incerta_. In any case, the scene seems somewhat to suggest that in
Petr. 85 _seqq._
[260]
ὅστις λέχη γὰρ σκότια νυμφεύει λάθρᾳ,
πῶς οὐχὶ πάντων ἐστὶν ἀθλιώτατος;
ἐξὸν θεωρήσαντι πρὸς τὸν ἥλιον,
γυμνὰς ἐφεξῆς ἐπὶ κέρως τεταγμένας,
ἐν λεπτοπήνοις ὕφεσιν ἑστώσας, οἵας
Ἠριδανὸς ἁγνοῖς ὕδασι κηπεύει κόρας,
μικροῦ πρίασθαι κέρματος τὴν ἡδονήν,
καὶ μὴ λαθραίαν κύπριν, αἰσχίστην νόσων
πασῶν, διώκειν, ὕβρεος οὐ πόθου χάριν.
[261] The one or two apparent exceptions to this rule, such as those in
the _Marathonii_ of Timocles or the _Philaulus_ of Theophilus, are in
reality no exceptions at all. This will be clear enough if we consider
what is meant in these passages by a κόρη, and do not confuse the
sentiment there expressed with a sentiment which does not occur till a
later period. The κόρη in question (a κιθαρίστρια in the _Philaulus_) is
merely an Hetaera _in posse_ instead of _in esse_, an Hetaera who has not
yet entered into regular business, and herein consists her superiority
from the point of view of those who do not share Diogenes’ view as to the
parallel between women and houses. That her attractions do not differ in
kind from those of the regular Hetaera will be plain enough to anyone who
takes the trouble to turn to the passage in the _Marathonii_, and that
the character of the “love” she inspires is also similar will be equally
apparent from the same lines. That this was the character of the παρθένων
ἔρωτες with which, according to Suidas, Anaxandrides dealt, seems beyond
question.
[262] Alexis himself says this, in almost as many words, in the passage
quoted below, p. 163.
[263] _Supra_, p. 85.
[264] The “Platonic” nature of Theseus’ admiration for the undeveloped
charms of Helen is a well-known feature of the legend. A comparison with
Aristoph. _Thesmoph. B_, _Fr._ 26, seems to suggest a further reason why
Theseus should have been introduced as a mock “Platonic” lover. Cp. Phot.
s.v. κυσολάκων. τὸ δὲ τοῖς παιδικοῖς χρῆσθαι λακωνίζειν ἔλεγον. Ἑλένῃ (so
Ruhnken for Μελαίνῃ) γὰρ Θησεὺς οὕτως ἐχρήσατο.
[265] In this connection we may remark that the tendency of the
mythological stories commonly parodied by Middle Comedy was also almost
entirely in this direction. The Ζεὺς μοιχός with whom the Athenian
audience of the day was so familiar, was hardly the type of character
to inspire respect for married life. How different was the New Comedy
treatment of the adulterer, we shall see further on.
[266] Another phase of the Middle Comedy treatment of women, the
discussion of which here would lead us too far away from our immediate
subject, will be considered in Excursus I.
[267] That the ψενδοκόρη, as the Athenian stage-managers rather quaintly
called her—a class of character sufficiently common, it must be
admitted—differs _toto caelo_ from the regular Hetaera, is almost too
obvious to need mention.
[268] _Supra_, p. 109.
[269] Of the _Casina_, which would appear at first sight to belong to
this class, we shall speak in another place. [The Excursus, dealing with
this subject, seems not to have been written; comp. Excursus K.]
[270] It is hard for us, in our generation, to realise what the first
dawn of pure love for women must have meant to the men who saw it. It
needs a conscious effort of will to clean away from one’s eyes and one’s
heart the dust of the centuries, and to look back clearly; but if once
the effort be successfully made, it is no longer hard to understand why,
at the end of the fourth century, the pure girl was a more inspiring
ideal than “the woman with a past,” and why the παρθένος; could stir
depths of passion that the ἑταίρα had left untouched.
[271] These last lines are very suggestive of Theocr. viii. 53. It is
worth noticing that in this play (v. 2, 72) the girl is specially asked
whether she is willing to marry.
[272]
“patrue mi, ita me di amabunt ut, ego si sim Iuppiter,
iam hercle ego illanc uxorem ducam, et Iunonem extrudam foras!” etc.
[273] Probably by Menander. At any rate, _Cistell._ i. 1, 90 _seqq._ is a
translation of Menand. _Incert._ 32.
[274]
“Glycerium vitiat Pamphilus,
_gravidaque facta_ dat fidem, uxorem sibi
fore hanc,” etc.
[275] _e.g._ Ter. _And._ i. 5, 36 _seqq._, iv. 2, 11 _seqq._
[276] In the _Adelphi_ of Menander, this feature was, in all probability,
even more prominent than it is in Terence’s contaminated version.
[277] Ter. _Adelph._ iii. 2, 34 _seqq._; cp. iii. 4, 23 _seqq._
[278] Plaut. _Aulul._ iv. 10.
[279] Cp. Ter. _Eun._ iv. 4, 26.
[280] Ter. _Adelph._ iv. 5, 62 _seqq._
[281] Cp. Plaut. _Aulul._ iv. 7 and 10; the conclusion of the play, in
which the marriage of the hero was finally settled, is lost.
[282] Ter. _And._ iv. 2, 14.
[283] Here, too, there can be little doubt that in the original (the
_Philadelphi_ of Menander), this erotic element was more prominent than
it is in the Latin.
[284] Cp. Plaut. _Trin._ v. 1, 1 _seqq._; 2, 64.
[285] Some further interesting evidence on this subject will be discussed
later. [Cp. p. 189; but the reference seems to be to a part of the work
which was not written.]
[286] In Tragedy, of course, the faithful and loving wife was not so
entirely unknown. The Athenian might accept an Alcestis, who lived in
prehistoric and heroic times, though even here his natural tendency was
to jeer (cp. Aristoph. _Equit._ 1251); but, imagine such a character
in Comedy, which was taken from real contemporary life? The idea was
preposterous.
[287] It is of course obvious that characters such as Clitipho in the
_Heauton Timorumenus_, or Lesbonicus in the _Trinummus_, do not regard
matrimony with much enthusiasm, but, in all these cases, the reasons for
their objection are so apparent that no one would consider them as real
exceptions to the general rule that the _young man_ of the New Comedy
looks on marriage with favour.
[288] And here one may remark at once that the incontinence of women,
which is one of the favourite subjects both of Aristophanes and of
Euripides, is nowhere emphasised in New Comedy.
[289] Cp. _Fr._ 10.
[290] Cp. Ter. _Eun._ v. 4, 21 _seqq._
[291] Ter. _And._ ii. 1, 15 and 25. [The author is assuming that the
words “quam vellem!” in the latter passage, are spoken by Charinus, not
by Pamphilus: the editors differ on this point.] This curious passage
furnishes a further instance, if further instances be needed, of the fact
that what the Greek required of a woman for a love-match was not so much
physical purity as constancy to a particular lover. Hence we find that
by far the greater mass of Greek romantic love-poetry is addressed, not
to virgins, but to women to whom the writer is, in one way or another,
married. Thus, too, in the romance of Xenophon Ephesius, the adventures
of the lovers all take place after marriage (the wedding occurs already
in chapter viii of book I.), and in this the _Ephesiaca_ are at least as
Greek as, if not more so than the _Pastoralia_ of Longus, or the novel
of Eumathius, where the most ridiculous and desperate expedients have to
be resorted to in order that the heroine may preserve her virginity till
the end of the last chapter. But this whole matter will be more fully
discussed when we come to consider the Callimachean ideal of woman. [The
reference is to a part of the work which was not completed.]
[292] Ter. _Hec._ v. 1, 24 _seqq._; cp. i. 2, 82.
[293] The _Casina_ (of Diphilus) and the _Orge_ of Menander seem equally
emphatic on the point, but as both these plays belong, strictly speaking,
to Middle Comedy, which had other and less romantic reasons for decrying
adultery, they need not be further noticed here.
[294] Cp. Ter. _Heaut. Tim._ ii. 4, 1 _seqq._
edepol te, mea Antiphila, laudo et fortunatam iudico,
id cum studuisti, isti formae ut mores consimiles forent, etc.
words which raise strange memories of a well-known passage in the _Dame
aux Camélias_.
[295] Cp. _inter alia_, v. 1, 30; 3, 35.
[296] ἐμοὶ μὲν οὖν ἄειδε τοιαύτην, θεά, κ.τ.λ.
[297] “haec. (_sc._ Thais Menandri) primum iuvenum lascivos lusit
amores;” where _lusit_ must almost certainly mean “parodied” or
“ridiculed,” and _lascivos amores_ “Hetaera-loves” as opposed to the more
orthodox amours of which the New Comedy proper treats.
[298] In any case, however, it is tempting to read in Prop. ii. 6, 3:
turba Menandreae fuerit nec Thaidos olim
tanta in qua _populum_ lusit _Erichthonium_.
[299] _E.g._ Plaut. _Cist._ i. 1, 66.
SL. at mihi cordolium est.
GY. quid id? unde est tibi cordolium, commemora, obsecro,
quod neque ego habeo neque quisquam alia mulier, ut perhibent viri?
[300] _E.g._ Plaut. _Trin._ ii. 1, 15 _seqq._ etc., etc.
[301]
παιδισκάριόν με καταδεδούλωκ’ εὐτελές,
ὃν οὐδὲ εἷς τῶν πολεμίων οὐπώποτε. (_Fr._ 3.)
Cp. Arrian, _Dissert. Epictet._ iv. 1.
[302] Cp. _Fr._ 10, 11.
[303]
παρ’ ἐμοὶ γάρ ἐστιν ἔνδον, ἔξεστιν δέ μοι
καὶ βούλομαι τοῦτ’, οὐ ποιῶ δέ. (_Fr._ 5.)
[304] _Vide_ Arrian, _loc. cit._ where the whole subject of Thrasonides
is discussed.
[305] This is the view taken of the case by Diogenes Laertius (vii. 130),
when he is discussing the Stoic doctrine of love.
εἶναι δὲ τὸν ἔρωτα ἐπιβολὴν φιλοποιΐας διὰ κάλλος ἐμφαινόμενον· καὶ μὴ
εἶναι συνουσίας, ἀλλὰ φιλίας. τὸν γοῦν Θρασωνίδην, καίπερ ἐν ἐξονσίᾳ
ἔχοντα τὴν ἐρωμένην, διὰ τὸ μισεῖσθαι ἀπέχειν αὐτῆς. εἶναι οὖν τὸν ἔρωτα
φιλίας. κ.τ.λ.
[306] One need merely think of Thais, the ideal Hetaera, μηδενὸς ἐρῶσαν.
[307] That this is no mere coincidence is shown by the characters, of
Stratophanes in Menander’s _Sicyonius_, and others, of whom we shall
speak presently. [p. 182.]
[308] Plut. _de Cupid. Div._ 524 F.
[καίτοι πῶς οὐ μανικὸν οὐδὲ οἰκτρὸν τὸ πάθος, εἴ τις ἱματίῳ μὴ χρῆται διὰ
τὸ ῥιγοῦν, μηδὲ ἄρτῳ διὰ τὸ πεινῇν, μηδὲ πλούτῳ διὰ τὸ φιλοπλουτεῖν; ἀλλ’
ἐν τοῖς Θρασωνίδου κακοῖς ἐστίν·
παρ’ ἐμοὶ γάρ ἐστιν ἔνδον, ἔξεστιν δέ μοι,
καὶ βούλομαι τοῦτ’ ...
ὡς οἱ ἐμμανέστατα ἐρῶντες,
... οὐ ποιῶ δε.... κ.τ.λ.]
[309] _Misumenus_, _Fr._ 6.
[310] Cp. Athen. xiii. 603 C, where not only is his continence
emphasised, but also his treatment of his captives as if they were free.
Cp. Menand. _Sicyon._ _Fr._ 3.
[311] Mimnermus, Anacreon, and Antimachus were all, of course, natives of
Greek Asia, where the cult of women seems always, from the earliest times
onwards, to have been more developed than in Greece itself. There is a
certain grim irony in the tradition that would make Anaxandrides, too, a
native of Colophon.
[312] _Vide_ _Fr._ 3.
[313] Plaut. _Epid._ i. 2, 7.
[314] Cp. v. 1, 45, where the lover’s regrets are promptly answered by
the assertion that there is another woman ready who will do just as well
or better:
stultus, tace!
tibi quidem quod ames domi praesto.
[315] That the character of the soldier belonged essentially to _erotic_
comedy is further shown by Plaut. _Capt._ prolog. 57:
hic neque periurus leno nec meretrix mala
neque miles gloriosus.
[316] This doubtless refers to some lines, now lost, which preceded the
passage subsequently quoted.
[317] This is, of course, nothing but a versified version of the doctrine
of the Stoic, Euclides. Cp. Diog. Laert. ii. 108.
[318] MI. etiamne (a me didicisti) ut ames eam, quam nusquam tetigeris?
nihil illuc quidem est.
AG. deos quoque edepol et amo et metuo, quibus tamen abstineo manus. (i.
2, 69.) A remark in v. 4, 49, is similar in spirit.
[319] Plaut. _Curc._ i. 1, 50 _seqq._ Further moralisings on the power
of a kiss (which almost suggest Daphnis in Longus’ _Pastoralia_, i. 18)
occur in Menand. _Incert._ 7.
[320] Ter. _Hec._ i. 2, 60 _seqq._; 85 _seqq._
[321] _e.g._ the “Geta” in Menander’s _Misumenus_, Milphio in the
_Poenulus_ of Plautus, &c.
[322] Such a passage as Alexis, _Incert._ 35, would belong to this
date. It is very different to the ribald remarks in the _Philometor_ of
Antiphanes.
[323] Cp. _supra_, p. 173.
[324] _Ibid._ p. 171.
[325] The “mater indulgens” is mentioned in Apuleius, _Florid._ 16, as
one of the stock characters in Philemon.
[326] Menand. _Incert._ 109, 114, 115, are all equally to the point.
[327] _Vide_ Ter. _Hec._ iv. 2, 1 _seqq._, a passage of great interest.
[328] Some further remarks on the family relations in New Comedy will be
found in Excursus K.
[Frequent reference is made in these pages to Plautus and Terence, as
illustrating the New Comedy. The justification of such reference was to
have been dealt with in an Excursus. The author was of opinion that the
Latin comedians might be cited to illustrate plot and subject, though we
could not be certain that the actual words or expressions in any given
passage were due to Greek originals.]
[329] That there was no romantic element in Greek tragedy has already
been shown at length. [See above, pp. 37-67.]
[330] The claims of Diphilus need not be considered. His leanings towards
Middle Comedy are generally admitted; in his fragments there is no
suggestion of any romantic treatment of women. In fact, the only real
reason for assigning him to New Comedy at all is, perhaps, the story of
the _Rudens_, which, Arcturus states in the Prologue, is derived from
this writer. Of the _Casina_ we shall speak elsewhere. [See page 165,
note 2.]
[331] Poeta fuit hic Philemon, _mediae comoediae scriptor_; fabulas cum
Menandro in scenam dictavit, certavitque cum eo, fortasse impar, certe
aemulus. namque eum etiam vicisse saepenumero, pudet dicere. reperias
tamen apud ipsum multos sales, argumenta lepide inflexa, agnatos lucide
explicatos, personas rebus competentes, sententias vitae congruentes,
ioca non infra soccum, seria non usque ad cothurnum. _rarae apud illum
corruptelae_, et, uti errores, concessi amores. nec eo minus et leno
periurus et amator fervidus et servulus callidus et amica illudens
et uxor inhibens et mater indulgens et patruus obiurgator et sodalis
opitulator et miles proeliator; sed et parasiti edaces et parentes
tenaces et meretrices procaces. Apul. _Flor._ 16.
[332] A curious instance of this feeling is his often-expressed opinion
that animals are happier than men. Cp. _Incert._ 3, 4, 8, etc.
[333] Cp. _inter alia_ Apul. _Flor._ 16.
[334] Among many expressions to this effect, we need only mention that
of Quintilian: atque ille quidem (_sc._ Menander) omnibus eiusdem operis
auctoribus abstulit nomen et fulgore quodam suae claritatis tenebras
obduxit. _Inst._ x. 1, 72.
[335] To take an instance from modern times. M. Daudet is said to have
written his _Sappho_ with the expressed object of showing that he, too,
could produce a work which could not be left lying about. Similarly,
M. Zola may be imagined to have produced _La Rêve_, in order to prove
that even he could be decent if he tried. But any attempt to judge of
the general character of these authors by the two books mentioned would
be obviously futile. In like manner, in the case of Philemon, one has
to consider how much of the romantic element in his comedies is due to
conviction, and how much to a desire to show that romantic love-stories
were a game two could play at.
[336] Platon. _de Com._ p. 30. _ad fin._ The passage distinctly suggests
that these ninety-seven plays were not all that Philemon actually wrote.
σώζεται δὲ αὐτοῦ (Φιλήμονος) δράματα ἑπτὰ πρὸς ἐνενήκοντα. Μένανδρος ...
γέγραφε δὲ πάντα δράματα ρη΄.
The view that the total number of his plays was greater than ninety-seven
seems to acquire further probability from the fact that he lived
well-nigh twice as long as Menander, and continued to write up to the day
of his death. Cp. Apul. _Flor._ 16.—It need hardly be remarked that if
plays of Philemon were already lost in the time of Platonius, such plays
were, in all probability, Middle rather than New Comedies.
[337] I have reserved the detailed proof of this fact, and the similar
one concerning Menander, for another place, in order that the sequence of
the argument may not be disturbed. _Vide_ Excursus. [This Excursus does
not appear to have been written.]
[338] It is hard to speak so positively of Philemon if, as is probable,
he was merely the imitator and rival of Menander in this respect; but,
of course, if it be granted that his romantic plays are subsequent to
Menander’s introduction of the subject, it is a matter of indifference
for the present argument whether he afterwards reverted to the older
style or not.
[339] [_Supra_, p. 107 _seqq._]
[340] The Scholiast here, and others, go so far as to assert that
Theocritus was a pupil of Asclepiades as well as of Philetas.
[341] Φιλητᾶς ... ὢν ἐπί τε Φιλίππου καὶ Ἀλεξάνδρου. Suidas _s.v._
[342] Cp. _Anth. Pal._ xii. 46.—The fact that Asclepiades was tired of
life at twenty-one is, of course, no proof that he died early. Many
people, especially poets, who were very anxious for death in their youth,
have developed a wonderfully tenacious hold upon life as they grew older.
[343] Cp. _Anth. Pal._ ix. 63; _supra_, p. 113.
[344] The fact that Menander called one of his plays _Samia_, a title
which had not been used since the time of Anaxandrides, is one of those
interesting coincidences that prove nothing at all.
[345] Ὑσμίνῃ παρθένῳ τῇ θυγατρὶ Σωσθένης οἰνοχοεῖν ἐγκελεύεται· ἡ δὲ
ἀνεζώσατο τόν χιτῶνα, ἐγύμνωσε τὼ χεῖρε μέχρις ἀγκῶνος κ.τ.λ. Eumath. i.
8.
[346] ἔπιε μὲν οὖν ὁ Σωσθένης· οὐκ ἔπειθε γάρ με αὐτοῦ προπιεῖν. εἶτα καὶ
ἡ Πανθία (ἡ τῆς Ὑσμίνης μήτηρ) συνέπιεν· ἐμὲ δὲ τρίτον εἶχεν ἡ πόσις. id.
_ibid._
[347] καὶ πίνων τὸν πόδα θλίβω τῆς κόρης, πόδα κατεπιθεὶς τὸν ἐμόν· ἡ δὲ
σιγῶσα τῇ γλώττῃ, τῷ σχήματι λαλεῖ, καὶ λαλοῦσα σιγᾷ κ.τ.λ. id. iv. 1.
[348] “Und wie er (Euripides) in diesen alten Heroensagen die Liebe stark
in den Vordergrund gerückt hatte, so wurde namentlich das alte Märchen
von Perseus und Andromeda unter seinen Händen zu einem der glänzendsten
Beispiele ritterlicher Liebe, &c.” Rohde, _Der griechische Roman_, p. 33.
[349] The dirtiness of his clothes, &c., is made a great point of.
Cp. Hesych. περισχαδόν· τὸν ὑποκρινόμενον τόν Περσέα ὡς πτωχὸν καὶ
φθισίμορφον. This too lends force to Lucian’s ὠχρῶν ἁπάντων καὶ λεπτῶν
τῶν ἑβδομαίων ἐκείνων τραγῳδῶν. (_De Conscr. Hist._ 1, vol. 2, p. 2.
_Vide_ Nauck, _Trag. Frag._ pp. 392-3.)
[350]
Ἔρως γὰρ ἀργὸν κἀπὶ τοῖς ἀργοῖς ἔφυ;
φιλεῖ κάτοπτρα καὶ κόμης ξανθίσματα,
φεύγει δὲ μόχθους. ἓν δέ μοι τεκμήριον;
οὐδεὶς προσαιτῶν βίοτον ἠράσθη βροτῶν,
ἐν τοῖς δ’ ἔχουσιν ἡβητὴς πέφυχ’ ὅδε.
Eur. _Fr._ 322 (_Danae_).
Cp. Athen. vi. 270 C. Similar passages are very common—in fact, the view
may be said to be a universal one; it arises, of course, from that purely
sensual manner of regarding love, on which so much has already been
said. Indeed, those who have read the early Greek literature with any
attention, need perhaps hardly be reminded of how utterly foreign to the
Greek of Euripides’ day is the conception of the “galante Ritter” setting
out in search of ladies that want rescuing.
At the same time, it may not be amiss to emphasise a fact which, though
sufficiently obvious, is yet often ignored. The fact that the _Andromeda_
was looked upon as a romantic play some centuries later, even if it can
be proved, is no proof that it was intended as such by its author, or
so understood by its original audience. If Hermesianax could infer from
the _Odyssey_ that Homer was in love with Penelope, one may excuse the
contemporaries of Lucian if they inferred from Euripides that Perseus
was in love with Andromeda, but one need not necessarily regard their
inference as a true one.
[351] One naturally thinks of Odysseus and Nausicaa, of Menelaus in the
_Helena_ (427 _seqq._), &c.
[352] _Fr._ 129. The fact that this line was afterwards quoted ἐρωτικῶς
(vide Nauck, _ad loc._), is no proof that it had any such meaning in its
original context.
[353] _Fr._ 132. There is no real objection to putting this fragment
_after_ his encounter with the monster, as the words τὰ ἐχόμενα (_vide_
_Fr._ 129 Nauck) do not necessarily mean that it followed immediately
after _Fr._ 129.
[354] _i.e._ πρὸς Ὄλυμπον, a very natural remark when one considers the
manner of Perseus’ first arrival.
[355] _Fr._ 133. ἀλλ’ ἡδύ τοι σωθέντα μεμνῆσθαι πόνων.
[356] A very interesting parallel to this scene is furnished by the dream
of Medea (Apoll. Rhod. iii. 625 _seqq._); the resemblance is almost too
great to be merely accidental. There too, of course, it need hardly be
remarked, the initiative is on the side of the woman.
[357] [The reading λείπεις has considerable MS. authority, and is adopted
by the majority of editors; the author is contrasting it with λείποις,
the text of Dindorf, Nauck, and some others.]
[358] The MS. gives ουτοςετουταδικων (Bergk). Various readings of this
have been given. The present one is mine.
[359] ἀπιὼν rather than ἀπεὼν. Cp. Prop. iii. 25, 7: flebo ego discedens.
[360] Altogether the resemblance between these poems and the Παιδικά
of Theocritus is very marked. Even in the interesting passage (1367
_seqq._), where the love of a boy is actually contrasted with that of a
woman, the great charm of the former is said to lie not in κάλλος, but
in χάρις, just as in Theocr. xxx. 4. Whether this resemblance is due to
anything more than the similarity of subject is a difficult question,
which need not be discussed here.
[361] Similarly, I may add, if anyone cares to regard the epigrams
ascribed to Plato as genuine, he will find nothing in them but
confirmation of what has already been gathered from works of less
questionable authenticity.
[362] With comedy this is, of course, especially the case, for comedy
appeals, in the main, to a lower intellectual class than tragedy, and is
therefore compelled to be even more conservative.
[363] [Excursus G.: page 219.]
[364] Is it merely a coincidence that this pioneer of a love-element, of
a sort, in comedy, was a native of Colophon?
[365] The view that this erotic element was in no respect romantic, but
dealt purely with the sensual side of the matter, is supported by (1) its
inherent probability; (2) the absence of any evidence to the contrary,
not only in the fragments of this writer, but also in those of Antiphanes
and Alexis, who are known to have imitated him; (3) the epithet παμμίαρος
applied to Anaxandrides. (_Vide_ Meineke, _Com. Fr._ i. p. 369.) Though
the general sense of Suidas’ words seems plain, their exact meaning is
not so clear. Probably ἔρωτας refers to the introduction of ἑταῖραι and
their admirers, whose mutual struggles _de nocte locanda_ would then
provide the action of the play. The sense of παρθένων φθοράς is even
less evident; but the fact that it is mentioned specially, and after the
word ἔρωτας, certainly seems to imply that the φθορά formed the climax
of the action. In other words, the motive of the plot was the same as
in the previous case, with the exception that the woman in question was
a παρθένος instead of an ἑταίρα. If this were so, then these stories
would, of course, differ _toto caelo_ from those of the New Comedy,
where the φθορά is an act of unpremeditated indiscretion which has taken
place before the play begins, and is atoned for by the hero’s subsequent
behaviour.
[366] Cp. Xenarchus, _Pentathl._ 1, where the same idea is developed.
When one reads such lines as these, one is tempted to agree with
Aristophon, that “love had been exiled from heaven.” (_Pythag._ _Fr._ 2.)
[367] There is, of course, plenty of grumbling at marriage in the New
Comedy, but there the characters who give vent to it are the old men, who
belong to the previous generation, and whose relations with their wives
had consequently not come under the influence of romance.
[368] [This Excursus was originally written for the first Essay; the New
Comedy is discussed in the second Essay. See above p. 163.]
[369] [The author is following Meineke i. 404: the name “Amphis” is a
conjectural emendation in the latter passage.]
[370] Cp. _supra_, p. 227. This feeling is, of course, common enough; cp.
Alexis, _Manteis_, γυναιξὶ δοῦλοι ζῶμεν ἀντ’ ἐλευθέρων, κ.τ.λ.
[371] Plaut. Asin. i. 1, 53 _seqq._ (patres ut consueverunt, ego mitto
omnia haec, l. 64); _Bacch._ v. 2, 89 _seqq._ (hi senes, nisi fuissent
nihil iam inde a adulescentia, non hodie hoc _tantum flagitium_ facerent
canis capitibus, etc.) Of course, if anyone prefers to believe that these
apologies are due to the _Latin_ author, no one can very well contradict
him.
INDEX
A. OF AUTHORS AND SUBJECTS REFERRED TO.
[The references are to pages throughout. Where the discussion of a
subject is continued over several pages, only the first page is here
given. Plays are usually cited under their authors’ names.]
=Achilles=, and Briseis, 9;
and Patroclus, 40, 76;
and Iphigeneia, 63.
=Achilles Tatius=, 13, 78, 109.
=Actaeon=, 33.
=Admetus=, and Apollo, 13, 31, 90, 99.
=Aeschylus=, 41;
and Stesichorus, 42;
_Myrmidones_ of, 40, 82, 92.
=Ajax=, and Teucer, 76, 90, 99;
of Sophocles, compared to the _Antigone_, 99.
=Alcaeus=, the comic poet, 149.
=Alcaeus=, the lyric poet, 83.
=Alcestis=, 57, 99.
=Alciphron=, 146, 148.
=Alcman=, 22;
and Megalostrate, 23;
love-poems to boys, 24;
Parthenia, 24.
=Alexander= and the wife of Darius, 181.
=Alexandrian poetry=, distinctive feature of, 1, 69.
=Alexis=, _Agonis_ of, 156;
_Helene_ of, 161;
on marriage, 162;
on women, 224.
=Ameipsias=, 147.
=Amphis= on women, 227.
=Anacreon=, 26, 27, 86;
love-poems to women, 27;
importance for history of the romantic element, 28;
character of poems to boys, 86.
=Anaxandrides=, 154, 162;
on women, 213, 222.
=Andromache=, in the Iliad, 10;
as the ideal wife, 55, 64.
=Antiphanes= on women, 213, 219;
retort to Alexander, 152.
=Antimachus= 5, 107;
and Plato, 111;
and Catullus, 111;
influence on Asclepiades, 113, 197;
influence on Philetas, 113
(_vide s.v._ LYDE).
=Aphrodite=, and Anchises, 202;
as the rival of Artemis, 59;
treatment of Phaedra, 47.
=Apuleius=, 189.
=Archilochus=, 19, 82;
true motive of his satires, 21;
and Catullus, 22.
=Archippus=, _Ichthys_ of, 147.
=Ariadne=, 12, 14.
=Aristophanes=, 129;
weddings in, 132;
views on women, 134;
_Cocalus_ of, 135;
_Aeolosicon_ of, 143.
=Asclepiades=, 69;
Meleager’s criticism on, 73;
eulogy of Antimachus, 113;
probable influence on Menander, 196.
=Aspasia=, 127.
=Bacchylides=, 36.
=Battis=, 70.
=Boy-love=, in classical Greek literature, 74;
as an element of classical Greek society, 77;
as a military institution, 77;
as an emblem of liberty, 77;
purity of, 78;
development of, 79;
decay of, 79, 102;
permanent influence on literature, 80;
in the Anthology, 81;
in Archilochus, 82;
in Alcman, 24;
in Alcaeus, 83;
illustrated by Sappho, 85;
in Anacreon, 86;
in Theognis, 87, 207;
in the _Scolia_, 89;
in Attic tragedy, 91;
in Alexandrian poetry, 102;
in Meleager, 103.
=Brother= and sister, in Attic tragedy, 48, 101;
in the New Comedy, 245.
=Callias=, 147.
=Catullus=, 81.
=Chionides=, 122.
=Clytemnestra=, 42.
=Corinna=, 36.
=Crates=, 126, 128.
=Cratinus=, 126.
=Cratinus= junior, _Theramenes_ of, 151.
=Daphnis=, 14, 34.
=Deianira=, 43.
=Diphilus= on women, 241;
belongs really to Middle Comedy, 188.
=Diphilus= and Gnathaena, 128.
=Epicharmus=, 122.
=Epicrates=, _Antilais_ of, 73, 151.
=Eubulus=, on women, 214, 222;
_Campylion_ of, 155;
_Nannion_ of, 158.
=Eumathius=, 199.
=Euripides=, services to art, 50;
female characters, 50;
admiration for women, 51;
view of love, 52;
striking absence of love-element in, 52, 62, 63, 66;
why E. was not a “romantic” writer, 66;
E. and the Alexandrians, 53;
his misogyny, 51;
_Aeolus_ of, 38, 52;
_Andromeda_ of, 140, 203;
_Antigone_ of, 38;
_Chrysippus_ of, 93;
_Electra_ of, 65;
_Iphigeneia_ of, 63;
_Medea_ of, 66;
_Meleager_ of, 38;
_Phoenix_ of, 38;
_Protesilaus_ of, 57;
_Stheneboea_ of, 38.
=Ganymede=, 13.
=Goddesses=, preponderance of, in Greek Pantheon, 7;
in love with mortals, 13.
=Haemon=, motives for suicide, 44.
=Helen of Himera=, 33.
=Helen of Troy=, in the _Iliad_, 10;
in Stesichorus, 33;
and Theseus, 161.
=Hermesianax=, 14, 26, 110.
=Hesiod=, women in, 8;
Catalogus of, 12.
=Hetaera=, in early times, 19;
in Bacchylides, 36;
in Early Comedy, 128, 147, 148;
in Middle Comedy, 151, 215, 219;
treated as superior to a wife, 158;
in New Comedy, 175.
=Hippolytus=, defence of, 61.
=Ibycus=, 35.
=Iphigeneia=, 63.
=Jealousy=, Attic view as to, 43, 55.
=Lafaye=, _Catulle et ses modèles_, 20, 22.
=Lesbian Poets=, 83.
=Licymnius=, 36.
=Love=, early Greek views as to, 12, 17, 55, 64;
in Middle Comedy, 160;
in New Comedy, 169, 185;
in Menander, 184;
in Sophocles, 46;
in Euripides, 52.
=Love-element=, in the _Iliad_, 75;
in _Hymn. Hom._ iv., 201;
in Sappho, 85;
in choral poetry, 35;
in Attic Tragedy, 38, 91;
in Sophocles, 46;
in Euripides, 50;
in Eur. _Andromeda_, 203;
in classical Greek poetry in general, 67;
in Middle Comedy, 150;
in New Comedy, 163;
in Asclepiades, 70.
=Lyde of Antimachus=, 107;
importance of, 108;
characteristic tone of, 110.
=Lyric poetry=, subjective, 17;
choral, 31.
=Magnes=, 122.
=Mahaffy=, _Classical Greek Literature_, 20, 63.
=Marriage=, in Comedy, 109, 212, 216 (_vide s.v._ =Middle Comedy=,
=New Comedy=);
Sophocles’ view of, 43;
in Greek romance, 109;
in Menander, 170.
=Maximus Tyrius=, distinction between ancient and modern love, 54;
on Achilles and Patroclus, 76;
on Sappho and Socrates, 85;
on Anacreon, 87.
=Medea=, 12, 14, 66.
=Meleager=, criticism of Asclepiades, 73;
poem to Charidemus, 103.
=Menalcas=, 14.
=Menander=, 2;
great merit of, 164;
wrote plays belonging to Middle Comedy, 193;
introduced the romantic element into comedy, 188;
marriage characteristic of, 170;
view of love, 184;
father and children in, 185;
why elderly married men are treated by M. as unhappy, 173;
on women, 233;
_Leucadia_ of, 146;
_Misogynes_ of, 174;
_Misumenus_ of, 178;
_Sicyonius_ of, 180;
_Thais_ of, 177.
=Middle Comedy=, main features of, 150;
difference from Old Comedy, 125;
difference from New Comedy, 163;
women in, 210, 219;
women’s rights in, 243;
dislike of marriage, 158;
ridicules Platonic love, 160;
ridicules family life, 161;
parodies mythological erotic stories, 161.
=Miles Gloriosus= as the chivalrous lover, 180.
=Mimnermus=, 25;
and Nanno, 26;
mentioned by Roman poets, 27.
=Minos= and Zeus, 13.
=Morychis=, law of, 125.
=Myrtis=, 36.
=Nanno=, 26.
=Nausicaa=, 10.
=New Comedy=, 109;
ideal character of, 119;
difference from Middle Comedy, 163;
two common types of plot in, 165;
the married state described as a happy one, 171;
condemns adultery, 174;
only slaves ridicule Platonic love in, 185;
legal obligation to marry not urged in, 137;
women in, 233.
=Orestes and Pylades=, 101.
=Ovid=, 109.
=Pandora=, legend of, 8.
=Parthenius=, 15.
=Penelope=, 8;
and Odysseus, 10.
=Phaedra=, of Sophocles, 46;
illustrated from the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite, 201;
of Euripides, 59.
=Pherecrates=, 125, 128.
=Philemon=, 142;
wrote plays belonging to Middle Comedy, 193;
more old-fashioned than Menander, 189;
on women, 240;
_Hypobolimaeus_ of, 144.
=Philetas=, 69;
influenced by Antimachus, 113.
=Philoxenus=, 36.
=Phocion= on marriage, 133.
=Phocylides=, 19.
=Pindar=, erotic legends in, 67.
=Plato=, 6;
in the _Hedychares_ of Theopompus, 149.
=Plato comicus=, 145.
=Plautus=, as imitating Middle Comedy, 157;
as illustrating New Comedy, 187;
and Menander, 234, 236;
_Captivi_ of, 155;
_Epidicus_ of, 183;
_Poenulus_ of, 185;
_Stichus_ of, 187.
=Poseidippus=, 26, 110.
=Reitzenstein=, _Epigramm und Skolion_, 25, 29, 34, 59.
=Rhadina=, 34.
=Rhianus=, poem to Dexionicus, 103.
=Rohde=, _der griechische Roman_, 75, 203.
=Romantic Element=, characteristic feature of, 4;
mistaken ideas as to, 2, 40, 106;
sudden appearance in literature, 69;
ditto, explained, 104;
origin among the Greeks, 105;
nature of in Greece, 108;
ditto, contrasted with mediaeval romance, 109;
in the Latin elegiac poets, 109.
=Sacred Band= of Epaminondas, 77.
=Sappho=, 85, 160;
and Phaon, 146;
and Sophocles, 45;
and Aeschylus, 45;
and Socrates, 85.
=Scolia=, 31, 89.
=Scylla=, legend of, 14.
=Simonides Amorginus=, 18;
and Hesiod, 18.
=Sophocles=, 43;
and Sappho, 45;
views on marriage, 45;
view of love, 46;
_Antigone_ of, 47;
_Colchides_ of, 38;
_Niobe_ of, 93;
_Oenomaus_ of, 38;
_Phaedra_ of, 38.
=Sparta=, 6, 24, 77.
=Stesichorus=, 33;
and Aeschylus, 42.
=Strato=, 81.
=Strattis=, 147.
=Susario=, 68.
=Telestes=, 37.
=Terence=, as illustrating New Comedy, 187;
and Menander, 233;
_Hecyra_ of, 170, 175.
=Theocritus=, poems to boys, 81, 83;
illustrative of Alcaeus, 83;
and Theognis, 208.
=Theognis=, 29, 87;
Book II., 207;
and Theocritus, 208.
=Theopompus=, 148;
_Hedychares_ of, 149.
=Theseus=, and Helen, 161.
=Wife=, Sophoclean ideal, 44;
Euripidean ideal, 55;
compared with Hetaera in Middle Comedy, 158;
ditto in New Comedy, 176;
tyranny of wives in Middle Comedy, 244.
=Women=, primitive position of, 7;
in the Homeric poems, 8;
in Hesiod, 8;
in the early legends, 11;
in the stories of Parthenius, 15;
early literary ideal of, 17;
in Simonides, 18;
in Phocylides, 19;
in Theognis, 29, 199;
in the _Scolia_, 31;
in Stesichorus, 33;
in Ibycus, 35;
in the later choral poets, 36;
in Attic tragedy, 40;
in Aeschylus, 41;
in Sophocles, 43;
in Euripides, 50;
in the early Alexandrians, 69;
in Asclepiades, 71;
in Greek comedy, 118;
in the Middle Comedy, 219;
in early New Comedy, 233;
better position in Asia, 182;
freemasonry among in Euripides, 58;
might be attacked openly by name, 151;
women’s rights in the Middle Comedy, 243.
B. OF PASSAGES EMENDED OR DISCUSSED.
Aeschylus, _Fr._ 135, 136 (92).
Alexis, _Graphe_ (225).
_Anth. Pal._ V. 164, 4 (73).
Antiphanes, _Acestria_, 3 (220).
Archilochus, _Fr._ 100 _seqq._ (20).
Aristophon, _Iatrus_, _Fr._ 2 (229).
Eubulus, _Campylion_ (155).
Euripides, _Hippol._ 1415, 1440 (206), _Fr._ 132 (205).
Hesiod, _Op._ 702 (19).
Martial XIV. 187 (177).
Mimnermus, _Fr._ 1 (25).
Philetaerus, _Atalanta_ (228).
Propertius II. 6, 3 (177).
Sophocles, _Ant._ 781 (46), 909 (49), _Fr._ 855, 13 (201).
Theognis, 261 _seqq._ (199), 1282, 1363 (208).
Theopompus, _Nemea_ 8 (148).
TABLE OF COMIC FRAGMENTS
In the text the fragments of the comedians are cited from Meineke’s
_Fragmenta Comicorum Graecorum_ (5 vols., 1839-57). In the following
table the corresponding numbers are given from Kock’s _Comicorum
Atticorum Fragmenta_ (3 vols., 1880-88). The fragments referred to which
do not appear in the table, can be found without difficulty in Kock’s
edition from Meineke’s numbers.
Author. Meineke. Kock.
=Alexis.= _Agonis_ 1 3
2 2
3 4
4 5
_Incert._ 14 282
18 279
26 293
31 271
34 262
35 267
38 289
39 302
40 339
53 314
_Isostas._ 1 98
_Mandragor._ 2 142
5 144
_Olynthia_ 1 162
2 159
_Tarantini_ 5 223
_Traumatias_ 2 234
=Amphis.= _Dithyramb._ 2 15
=Anaxandrides.= _Incert._ 1 52
5 56
9 60
10 61
13 78
17 68
_Odysseus_ 1 33
_Tereus_ 2 47
3 46
=Anaxilas.= _Incert._ 2 34
3 36
4 35
5 37
6 38
_Neottis_ 1 22
2 21
=Antiphanes.= _Acestria_ 1 20
_Aeolus_ 1 18
_Agroecus_ 2 2
_Arcas_ 2 41
_Dyspratus_ 1 89
_Incert._ 12 235
13 300
51 324
52 292
53 329
54 251
55 252
57 253
71 239
95 320
_Mystis_ 3 165
_Neanisci_ 2 167
_Neottis_ 3 170
_Omphale_ 3 178
=Araros.= _Caeneus_ 4 5
=Aristophanes.= _Cocal._ 2 347
3 346
4 348
5 349
6 351
7 350
10 354
12 355
_Daed._ 3 187
_Geras_ 5 141
6 140
7 142
_Pelargi_ 1 438
_Polyid._ 2 453
_Scen. Cat._ 1 472
2 864
3 862
_Thesmoph. B._ 26 { 338
{ 907
=Aristophon.= _Iatrus_ 2 3
_Pythagor._ 2 11
=Crates.= _Incert._ 3 _Cratinus_ 302
4 40
=Cratinus.= _Seriph._ 12 216
=Diphilus.= _Incert._ 2 87
6 91
16 101
33 115
34 136
47 129
_Zographus_ 1 44
=Ephippus.= _Philyra_ 2 21
3 23
=Eriphus.= _Meliboea_ 1 2
2 7
=Eubulus.= _Cercopes_ 1 54
_Campyl._ 1 44
2 43
3 41
4 42
5 45
6 46
_Incert._ 3 125
9 127
20 133
25 148
_Sphingocar._ 2 108
3 106
_Stephanopol._ 1 98
2 104
3 105
4 99
=Eupolis.= _Autolycus_ 10 44
=Menander.= _Andria_ 1 48
_Androgynus_ 2 57
_Arrephorus_ 3 66
_Chalceia_ 3 509
_Eunuchus_ 7 190
_Georgus_ 6 100
_Halieis_ 6 18
10 16
_Hiereia_ 2 546
_Incert._ 1 654
3 532
6 535
7 536
8 547-8
14 541
16 599
27 564-5
32 558
36 566
54 582
55 585
57 583
58 584
59 586
73 608
99 645
100 646
101 647
102 648
103 649
104 650
105 651
106 652
107 653
108 662
109 603
112 657
113 659
114 658
115 660
117 661
133 610
154 702
155 703
156 704
185 720
196 798
197 745
198 746
199 739
241 727
256 800
258 802
259 803
294 879
346 955
469 687
499 754
_Leucadia_ 1 312
_Misogynes_ 1 325
2 332
3 333
4 601
5 326
9 329
_Misumenus_ 3 338
5 336
6 337
7 335
8 345
10 341
11 342
12 343
_Nauclerus_ 4 352
_Orge_ 5 366
_Plocion_ 1 402
2 403
3 } 404
4 }
_Sicyonius_ 3 438
_Synaristosae_ 1 450
2 451
4 449
_Thesaurus_ 1 235
2 237
3 236
=Nicostratus.= _Pandrosus_ 1 21
2 19
3 20
=Pherecrates.= _Thalatta_ 2 56
3 52
4 51
5 54
7 53
=Philemon.= _Incert._ 3 89
4 88
8 93
31 124
32 126
35 139
44 132
49 138
64 156
76 169
77 170
78 171
85 177
95 190
103 196
105 198
106 239
124 218
=Philetaerus.= _Cynagis_ 1 9
2 6, 7
3 8
=Plato.= _Phaon_ 2 174
3 175
4 178
10 179
=Strattis.= _Maced._ 5 26
=Theophilus.= _Philaul._ 1 12
2 11
=Theopompus.= _Capelid._ 3 26
4 28
5 27
_Hedychares_ 3 14
4 16
_Odysseus_ 1 35
_Medus_ 2 29
=Timocles.= _Epist._ 1 10
_Icarii_ 1 17
2 14
=Xenarchus.= _Scythae_ 1 12
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