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.