Introduction Recognition in the Odyssey typically hinges on a visual or visualizable sign of some sort. There are, however, three recognition scenes--between Odysseus and his dog, his Nurse, and his bow--which turn instead on nonvisual triggers. Touch occasions Eurycleia's recognition of her master, as it does Odysseus's reunion with his bow, while there are strong hints that his sharp sense of smell is what enables Argus to detect his master behind the ragged appearance of a beggar. These three scenes, based as they are on senses other than sight, expose the fissures in Odysseus's otherwise flawless disguise, and reveal his surprising vulnerability. As David Howes (2005, 10) observes in Empire of the Senses, how the senses are valued in any given society is not only culturally determined but also hierarchical: The senses are typically ordered in hierarchies. In one society or social context sight will head the list of the senses, in another it may be hearing or touch. Such sensory rankings are always allied with social rankings and employed to order society. The dominant group in society will be linked to esteemed senses and sensations while subordinate groups will be associated with less-valued or denigrated senses. In the West, the dominant group--whether it be conceptualized in terms of gender, class, or race--has conventionally been associated with the supposedly 'higher' senses of sight and hearing, while subordinate groups (women, workers, non-Westerners) have been associated with the so-called lower senses of smell, taste, and touch. The gendered social valuation of the senses in the Odyssey is in line with what Howes describes as typical for Western societies: sight and sound are allied with social prestige, while touch and smell are more prevalent among subordinate groups, particularly women and animals. Argus and Eurycleia mobilize these 'lower' senses during their interactions with Odysseus. Women, moreover, are often the first to notice bodily semata, perhaps because of their involvement in rituals of hospitality which brings them into close contact with the physical self. (1) And as weavers, women are practitioners of a supremely tactile art. (2) This may mark them as closer to 'nature' and supposedly less suited for positions of political power, but their tactile expertise is also what allows female characters in Homer to 'see through' the superficially altered appearances that confound their male counterparts. (3) Even Odysseus, a hero of metis (cunning) rather than bia (force), resorts to uncharacteristic aggression when he is confronted with Eurycleia's discerning touch. The forgotten senses of touch and smell thus reinforce, at the same time that they call into question, the Odyssey's gendered and political status quo. By pointing up the dangers of discovery that Odysseus barely escapes, such seemingly loose ends in the 'disguise' strand of the epic hint at alternative outcomes to the hero's nostos. Odysseus's is a homecoming w
《奥德赛》中的识别通常依赖于某种视觉或可视觉化的符号。然而，有三个识别场景——奥德修斯和他的狗、他的保姆和他的弓——是由非视觉触发的。触摸使欧律克利亚认出了她的主人，就像奥德修斯和他的弓重逢一样，而有强烈的迹象表明，他敏锐的嗅觉使阿古斯能够在乞丐褴褛的外表后面发现他的主人。这三个场景，因为它们是基于感官而不是视觉，暴露了奥德修斯原本完美无缺的伪装中的裂缝，揭示了他令人惊讶的脆弱。正如David Howes(2005,10)在《感官帝国》(Empire of the Senses)中所观察到的，在任何特定社会中，感官的价值不仅是由文化决定的，而且是由等级决定的:感官通常是按等级排序的。在一个社会或社会环境中，视觉会排在感官的首位，而在另一个社会中，听觉或触觉可能排在首位。这种感官排名总是与社会排名结合在一起，用来给社会排序。社会中的主导群体将与受尊重的感官和感觉联系在一起，而从属群体将与不太受重视或贬低的感官联系在一起。在西方，主导群体——无论是性别、阶级还是种族——通常都与所谓的“高级”视觉和听觉联系在一起，而从属群体(女性、工人、非西方人)则与所谓的低级嗅觉、味觉和触觉联系在一起。《奥德赛》中对感官的性别社会评价与豪斯描述的西方社会的典型特征一致:视觉和听觉与社会声望有关，而触觉和嗅觉在从属群体中更为普遍，尤其是女性和动物。阿古斯和欧律克利亚在与奥德修斯的互动中调动了这些“低级”感官。此外，女性往往是第一个注意到身体信号的人，也许是因为她们参与了好客的仪式，这使她们与身体自我有了密切的接触。作为织工，女性是一门极具触觉的艺术的实践者。(2)这可能标志着她们更接近“自然”，被认为不太适合担任政治权力的职位，但她们的触觉技能也使《荷马史诗》中的女性角色能够“看穿”令男性同行困惑的表面变化的外表。(3)即使是奥德修斯，一个metis(狡猾)而不是bia(武力)的英雄，在面对欧律克利亚的敏锐触觉时，也采取了不同寻常的攻击。被遗忘的触觉和嗅觉因此加强了，与此同时，它们对奥德赛的性别和政治现状提出了质疑。通过指出奥德修斯几乎无法逃脱的被发现的危险，史诗的“伪装”链中看似松散的结局暗示了英雄怀旧的另一种结果。奥德修斯的返乡之旅，其对以视觉为中心的重新融合的不稳定依赖，很容易被一个灵巧的手或鼻子所掩盖。《奥德赛》中的认知主要有两种类型，每一种都有独特的叙事功能。我把它们称为anagnorisis和noesis，尽管这些特定的名词在荷马史诗中并没有出现。(4)涉及失认的识别场景往往被需要重新激活的社会关系所框定。通过一个可想象的符号(例如，一个特定的身体形状，头、手或脚的形状)的代理;疤痕;记号:特殊的记号;或武器光滑的表面)，奥德修斯和他的家庭核心圈子的一些成员之间重新建立了联系。(5)他大腿上的伤疤是最常用来确认奥德修斯的识别的标志(sema);因此，它是一种持久的社会身份的外化。…
{"title":"Recognition and the Forgotten Senses in the Odyssey","authors":"Melissa Mueller","doi":"10.1353/HEL.2016.0003","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/HEL.2016.0003","url":null,"abstract":"Introduction Recognition in the Odyssey typically hinges on a visual or visualizable sign of some sort. There are, however, three recognition scenes--between Odysseus and his dog, his Nurse, and his bow--which turn instead on nonvisual triggers. Touch occasions Eurycleia's recognition of her master, as it does Odysseus's reunion with his bow, while there are strong hints that his sharp sense of smell is what enables Argus to detect his master behind the ragged appearance of a beggar. These three scenes, based as they are on senses other than sight, expose the fissures in Odysseus's otherwise flawless disguise, and reveal his surprising vulnerability. As David Howes (2005, 10) observes in Empire of the Senses, how the senses are valued in any given society is not only culturally determined but also hierarchical: The senses are typically ordered in hierarchies. In one society or social context sight will head the list of the senses, in another it may be hearing or touch. Such sensory rankings are always allied with social rankings and employed to order society. The dominant group in society will be linked to esteemed senses and sensations while subordinate groups will be associated with less-valued or denigrated senses. In the West, the dominant group--whether it be conceptualized in terms of gender, class, or race--has conventionally been associated with the supposedly 'higher' senses of sight and hearing, while subordinate groups (women, workers, non-Westerners) have been associated with the so-called lower senses of smell, taste, and touch. The gendered social valuation of the senses in the Odyssey is in line with what Howes describes as typical for Western societies: sight and sound are allied with social prestige, while touch and smell are more prevalent among subordinate groups, particularly women and animals. Argus and Eurycleia mobilize these 'lower' senses during their interactions with Odysseus. Women, moreover, are often the first to notice bodily semata, perhaps because of their involvement in rituals of hospitality which brings them into close contact with the physical self. (1) And as weavers, women are practitioners of a supremely tactile art. (2) This may mark them as closer to 'nature' and supposedly less suited for positions of political power, but their tactile expertise is also what allows female characters in Homer to 'see through' the superficially altered appearances that confound their male counterparts. (3) Even Odysseus, a hero of metis (cunning) rather than bia (force), resorts to uncharacteristic aggression when he is confronted with Eurycleia's discerning touch. The forgotten senses of touch and smell thus reinforce, at the same time that they call into question, the Odyssey's gendered and political status quo. By pointing up the dangers of discovery that Odysseus barely escapes, such seemingly loose ends in the 'disguise' strand of the epic hint at alternative outcomes to the hero's nostos. Odysseus's is a homecoming w","PeriodicalId":43032,"journal":{"name":"HELIOS","volume":"43 1","pages":"1 - 20"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2016-03-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.1353/HEL.2016.0003","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"66419650","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Introduction The argumentative behavior of Myrrhina towards her friend, Cleostrata, in Act 2, Scene 2, of Plautus's Casina has struck many scholars as inconsistent with her amicable behavior elsewhere in the play. (1) When the two women meet in this scene, which is their first encounter on stage, Cleostrata expresses indignation towards her husband, and Myrrhina counters that her grounds for indignation are not valid. The friction between the two women is obvious, but later they cooperate fully in Cleostrata's efforts to humiliate her husband and foil his plan to rape the slave girl, Casina. The charge of inconsistency appears as early as Peter Langen (1886, 127), who stated simply, "Der Charakter der Murrhina ist nicht konsequent durch gefuhrt" (The character of Myrrhina is not executed consistently throughout), and as recently as Ariana Traill (2011, 502), who writes, "The betrayal is as short-lived as it is unexpected." (2) To Eduard Fraenkel (2007, 204), the difference in her behavior is so striking that he concludes it must be the result of Plautine interpolation: The principles which Myrrhina espouses in lines 199-211 fit neither her character nor her behaviour during the rest of the play nor the nature of her friendship with Cleostrata. The two women are in complete harmony; the intimacy of their relationship is studiously emphasized at the beginning of this scene (179-83). Cleostrata is deeply worried; such cold-blooded opposition by her friend, as it is portrayed in only one set of lines, 199-211, is intolerable: it contradicts the way the Greek poet has clearly shaped the whole play. The primary goal of my paper is to demonstrate that Myrrhina's behavior in Scene 2.2 is not inconsistent with her otherwise strong expressions of solidarity with Cleostrata; in fact, she acts precisely as a friend should by warning Cleostrata that her opposition to her husband could get her into serious trouble. Before delving into this, I will examine the methodological problems behind Langen's original proclamation and investigate why his conclusion--that Myrrhina's behavior is inconsistent--perseveres even though his methodology is now considered outdated. Returning to the dramatic world of the Casina, the trouble arises when Cleostrata's husband, Lysidamus, makes a particularly overt and particularly grand effort to gain sexual access to their slave, Casina, who is of marriageable age. Lysidamus plans to arrange her marriage to his personal slave, Olympio, so that he can access Olympio's chambers and rape Casina without arousing the suspicions of his own wife, Cleostrata. Their son, Euthynicus, who is also interested in the young woman, has devised a similar plan to marry Casina to his own slave. Casina has no lines and the audience is never shown her perspective; she is a hapless bystander whose future will be decided by a handful of citizens who fight for the prestige that comes from controlling Casina as property. (3) Cleostrata, aware of her husband
{"title":"In Defense of Myrrhina: Friendship between Women in Plautus’s Casina","authors":"Anne Feltovich","doi":"10.1353/HEL.2015.0010","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/HEL.2015.0010","url":null,"abstract":"Introduction The argumentative behavior of Myrrhina towards her friend, Cleostrata, in Act 2, Scene 2, of Plautus's Casina has struck many scholars as inconsistent with her amicable behavior elsewhere in the play. (1) When the two women meet in this scene, which is their first encounter on stage, Cleostrata expresses indignation towards her husband, and Myrrhina counters that her grounds for indignation are not valid. The friction between the two women is obvious, but later they cooperate fully in Cleostrata's efforts to humiliate her husband and foil his plan to rape the slave girl, Casina. The charge of inconsistency appears as early as Peter Langen (1886, 127), who stated simply, \"Der Charakter der Murrhina ist nicht konsequent durch gefuhrt\" (The character of Myrrhina is not executed consistently throughout), and as recently as Ariana Traill (2011, 502), who writes, \"The betrayal is as short-lived as it is unexpected.\" (2) To Eduard Fraenkel (2007, 204), the difference in her behavior is so striking that he concludes it must be the result of Plautine interpolation: The principles which Myrrhina espouses in lines 199-211 fit neither her character nor her behaviour during the rest of the play nor the nature of her friendship with Cleostrata. The two women are in complete harmony; the intimacy of their relationship is studiously emphasized at the beginning of this scene (179-83). Cleostrata is deeply worried; such cold-blooded opposition by her friend, as it is portrayed in only one set of lines, 199-211, is intolerable: it contradicts the way the Greek poet has clearly shaped the whole play. The primary goal of my paper is to demonstrate that Myrrhina's behavior in Scene 2.2 is not inconsistent with her otherwise strong expressions of solidarity with Cleostrata; in fact, she acts precisely as a friend should by warning Cleostrata that her opposition to her husband could get her into serious trouble. Before delving into this, I will examine the methodological problems behind Langen's original proclamation and investigate why his conclusion--that Myrrhina's behavior is inconsistent--perseveres even though his methodology is now considered outdated. Returning to the dramatic world of the Casina, the trouble arises when Cleostrata's husband, Lysidamus, makes a particularly overt and particularly grand effort to gain sexual access to their slave, Casina, who is of marriageable age. Lysidamus plans to arrange her marriage to his personal slave, Olympio, so that he can access Olympio's chambers and rape Casina without arousing the suspicions of his own wife, Cleostrata. Their son, Euthynicus, who is also interested in the young woman, has devised a similar plan to marry Casina to his own slave. Casina has no lines and the audience is never shown her perspective; she is a hapless bystander whose future will be decided by a handful of citizens who fight for the prestige that comes from controlling Casina as property. (3) Cleostrata, aware of her husband","PeriodicalId":43032,"journal":{"name":"HELIOS","volume":"42 1","pages":"245 - 266"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2015-09-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.1353/HEL.2015.0010","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"66419527","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Amores 1.7 has long been considered a problematic poem. Its subject matter, the physical assault of the puella by the poet-speaker, is often viewed as distasteful (James 2003, 184), and there are difficulties of interpretation. Opinions of the poem vary, although critics no longer see it as a "sincere expression of regret" on the part of the poet-speaker (e.g., Barsby 1993, 91, quoted in James 2003, 184; Fraenkel 1945, 18 and Wilkinson 1955, 50, both quoted in Khan 1966, 880; Greene 1998, 84). The poem is read, for instance, as a humorously exaggerated and disingenuous description of the poet-speaker's reaction to his attack on his puella, designed to rationalize and minimize his responsibility (Barsby 1973, 91; Cahoon 1988, 296); as an expression of continued violence against women (Greene 1998, 84); and as a tour de force that turns an angry lover into a subservient underling (Olstein 1979, 297). Commentators agree, however, that the poem is embedded in a strong literary and elegiac tradition that includes quarrels and physical force as a part of erotic interactions. (1) In this article I argue for another interpretation of this poem that locates Amores 1.7 firmly in the elegiac topos of the lover's violence. Specifically, I examine Tibullus 1.10.51-66 and Propertius 2.5.21-6, two poems to which Amores 1.7 has direct verbal and thematic connections. (2) My intention is, first, to focus on the characters of the rusticus and the poeta in Tibullus 1.10 between whom Tibullus draws a contrast when it comes to the battles of love, and, second, to discuss how Propertius in 2.5 objects to Tibullus's description of a drunken rusticus as a rapist, a scene that, in his view, should not have been written. Finally, I argue that in Amores 1.7 Ovid confronts and redirects the topos of elegiac violence by creating a poeta who is also a rusticus. (3) Rusticitas is a quality that Ovid disdains and one that his elegy is designed to combat, (4) but in Amores 1.7, Ovid's poet-speaker gradually reveals that he has actually engaged in the behavior of Tibullus's rusticus by physically attacking his puella. Ovid thus combats the parochial and exclusionary conventions of Propertius and Tibullus who define the elegiac lover ostensibly as a peaceful man. At the same time, however, Ovid's poet-speaker punctuates his revelations with a high degree of epic features that show that, despite his uncouth behavior, he is a poet and a learned poet at that. As I suggest here, Ovid, by creating a poet-speaker who is a poeta as well as a rusticus, reworks both Tibullus, who has created a distinction between the behavior of a rusticus and that of a poeta, and Propertius, who believes that any poet who describes the behavior of a rusticus is himself behaving as one. In the final poem of his first book, Tibullus creates a distinction between the rusticus and the poeta which calls on earlier themes in his poetry and connects the rusticus with the soldier. (5) After a series of contrasts
{"title":"The Poeta as Rusticus in Ovid, Amores 1.7","authors":"Caroline A. Perkins","doi":"10.1353/HEL.2015.0011","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/HEL.2015.0011","url":null,"abstract":"Amores 1.7 has long been considered a problematic poem. Its subject matter, the physical assault of the puella by the poet-speaker, is often viewed as distasteful (James 2003, 184), and there are difficulties of interpretation. Opinions of the poem vary, although critics no longer see it as a \"sincere expression of regret\" on the part of the poet-speaker (e.g., Barsby 1993, 91, quoted in James 2003, 184; Fraenkel 1945, 18 and Wilkinson 1955, 50, both quoted in Khan 1966, 880; Greene 1998, 84). The poem is read, for instance, as a humorously exaggerated and disingenuous description of the poet-speaker's reaction to his attack on his puella, designed to rationalize and minimize his responsibility (Barsby 1973, 91; Cahoon 1988, 296); as an expression of continued violence against women (Greene 1998, 84); and as a tour de force that turns an angry lover into a subservient underling (Olstein 1979, 297). Commentators agree, however, that the poem is embedded in a strong literary and elegiac tradition that includes quarrels and physical force as a part of erotic interactions. (1) In this article I argue for another interpretation of this poem that locates Amores 1.7 firmly in the elegiac topos of the lover's violence. Specifically, I examine Tibullus 1.10.51-66 and Propertius 2.5.21-6, two poems to which Amores 1.7 has direct verbal and thematic connections. (2) My intention is, first, to focus on the characters of the rusticus and the poeta in Tibullus 1.10 between whom Tibullus draws a contrast when it comes to the battles of love, and, second, to discuss how Propertius in 2.5 objects to Tibullus's description of a drunken rusticus as a rapist, a scene that, in his view, should not have been written. Finally, I argue that in Amores 1.7 Ovid confronts and redirects the topos of elegiac violence by creating a poeta who is also a rusticus. (3) Rusticitas is a quality that Ovid disdains and one that his elegy is designed to combat, (4) but in Amores 1.7, Ovid's poet-speaker gradually reveals that he has actually engaged in the behavior of Tibullus's rusticus by physically attacking his puella. Ovid thus combats the parochial and exclusionary conventions of Propertius and Tibullus who define the elegiac lover ostensibly as a peaceful man. At the same time, however, Ovid's poet-speaker punctuates his revelations with a high degree of epic features that show that, despite his uncouth behavior, he is a poet and a learned poet at that. As I suggest here, Ovid, by creating a poet-speaker who is a poeta as well as a rusticus, reworks both Tibullus, who has created a distinction between the behavior of a rusticus and that of a poeta, and Propertius, who believes that any poet who describes the behavior of a rusticus is himself behaving as one. In the final poem of his first book, Tibullus creates a distinction between the rusticus and the poeta which calls on earlier themes in his poetry and connects the rusticus with the soldier. (5) After a series of contrasts ","PeriodicalId":43032,"journal":{"name":"HELIOS","volume":"42 1","pages":"267 - 285"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2015-09-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.1353/HEL.2015.0011","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"66419533","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
'Well!' thought Alice to herself. After such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down-stairs! How brave they'll all think me at home!' --Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland As the Odyssey's Circe turns from treacherous witch to helpful advisor and takes it upon herself to warn Odysseus against, first, the Sirens, and, second, the twin dangers that are Scylla and Charybdis, she curiously does not immediately proceed to discuss the latter pair. In her preamble, Circe begins by claiming that Odysseus's path is a matter of choice: one leads to the Clashing Rocks or Planctae, the other to Scylla and Charybdis (Od. 12.56-8). It quickly emerges, however, that Odysseus does not, in fact, have a choice: the Planctae, which spare not even the doves carrying ambrosia to Zeus, have only once been successfully crossed, and even so, only thanks to Hera's direct intervention (Od. 12.69-72). How formidable these rocks are can be glimpsed in the fact that the Planctae are known only by a name the gods have given them. In only one other instance does the Odyssey refer to this divine taxonomy--what scholars have called the "language of the gods"; it is when Hermes introduces the molu plant to Odysseus and discusses what makes it unique: (1) [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII] (2) (And the gods call it "molu"; for mortal men / It is hard to dig up; the gods, however, are capable of everything, Od. 10.305-6). Like steering a ship through the treacherous Planctae, to find and dig up the molu is a simple matter for the gods; for mortals, the same task is not so easy. It is implicit in Odysseus's subsequent questions to Circe about how best to tackle Scylla that he does not for a moment consider the Planctae to be a real alternative. (3) Odysseus thus gives up beforehand on a trajectory that is doomed to failure as it leaves no room for him, as a mortal, as a hero without the direct divine protection enjoyed by the likes of Jason, to exercise his famed resourcefulness. There is a strong suggestion here that the Clashing Rocks may belong to a heroic past that cannot be revisited by Odysseus. Circe's introduction is thus significant, for it frames the hero's encounter with Scylla and her counterpart as, unlike the Planctae, a challenge that is not beyond remedy--provided he follows her advice to steer clear of Charybdis and thus stay closer to Scylla. And not only did Odysseus follow the advice, so have most commentators. The pair has been the object of many fruitful studies, but common to these treatments is a stress on Scylla, often to the neglect of Charybdis. Both monsters are, scholars agree, female, engulfing mouths, but Homer's own tendency to humanize Scylla while leaving Charybdis as landscape rather than fully gendered creature has slanted the traditional reading, favoring an interpretive close-up of Scylla. (4) Scholarly discourse, at its most fleshed-out, interprets the whirlpool as an extreme example of the anthropophagous, one of the O
{"title":"Down through the Gaping Hole—and up the Fig Tree","authors":"Han Tran","doi":"10.1353/HEL.2015.0013","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/HEL.2015.0013","url":null,"abstract":"'Well!' thought Alice to herself. After such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down-stairs! How brave they'll all think me at home!' --Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland As the Odyssey's Circe turns from treacherous witch to helpful advisor and takes it upon herself to warn Odysseus against, first, the Sirens, and, second, the twin dangers that are Scylla and Charybdis, she curiously does not immediately proceed to discuss the latter pair. In her preamble, Circe begins by claiming that Odysseus's path is a matter of choice: one leads to the Clashing Rocks or Planctae, the other to Scylla and Charybdis (Od. 12.56-8). It quickly emerges, however, that Odysseus does not, in fact, have a choice: the Planctae, which spare not even the doves carrying ambrosia to Zeus, have only once been successfully crossed, and even so, only thanks to Hera's direct intervention (Od. 12.69-72). How formidable these rocks are can be glimpsed in the fact that the Planctae are known only by a name the gods have given them. In only one other instance does the Odyssey refer to this divine taxonomy--what scholars have called the \"language of the gods\"; it is when Hermes introduces the molu plant to Odysseus and discusses what makes it unique: (1) [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII] (2) (And the gods call it \"molu\"; for mortal men / It is hard to dig up; the gods, however, are capable of everything, Od. 10.305-6). Like steering a ship through the treacherous Planctae, to find and dig up the molu is a simple matter for the gods; for mortals, the same task is not so easy. It is implicit in Odysseus's subsequent questions to Circe about how best to tackle Scylla that he does not for a moment consider the Planctae to be a real alternative. (3) Odysseus thus gives up beforehand on a trajectory that is doomed to failure as it leaves no room for him, as a mortal, as a hero without the direct divine protection enjoyed by the likes of Jason, to exercise his famed resourcefulness. There is a strong suggestion here that the Clashing Rocks may belong to a heroic past that cannot be revisited by Odysseus. Circe's introduction is thus significant, for it frames the hero's encounter with Scylla and her counterpart as, unlike the Planctae, a challenge that is not beyond remedy--provided he follows her advice to steer clear of Charybdis and thus stay closer to Scylla. And not only did Odysseus follow the advice, so have most commentators. The pair has been the object of many fruitful studies, but common to these treatments is a stress on Scylla, often to the neglect of Charybdis. Both monsters are, scholars agree, female, engulfing mouths, but Homer's own tendency to humanize Scylla while leaving Charybdis as landscape rather than fully gendered creature has slanted the traditional reading, favoring an interpretive close-up of Scylla. (4) Scholarly discourse, at its most fleshed-out, interprets the whirlpool as an extreme example of the anthropophagous, one of the O","PeriodicalId":43032,"journal":{"name":"HELIOS","volume":"32 1","pages":"179 - 207"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2015-09-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.1353/HEL.2015.0013","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"66419546","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
[TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII] But before he is dead, wait, and do not yet call him happy, but fortunate. --Solon (1) Prologue What does the history of philosophy look like from the perspective of psychoanalysis? In the present essay, I propose to consider a specific moment in the history of philosophy, namely, the intervention of eros in the historical transition from Herodotean inquiry to Platonic philosophy. If psychoanalysis makes a difference as to how we understand the history of philosophy, what can it tell us about the significance of eros for the tradition of philosophy initiated by Socrates? In asking this question, my aim is twofold. First, I want to demonstrate that a psychoanalytic approach to the history of philosophy not only is plausible, but that by virtue of its insight into the wishes and fantasies that motivate human behavior, it can help us to understand how eros intervenes to motivate the Platonic account of the Socratic unity of happiness and philosophy. Where the historical significance of this account is at stake, we shall have to investigate both the prehistory of the Socratic tradition and its major connection to a Platonic account of the eros for philosophy. Hence my second aim: to demonstrate the central importance of Plato's Symposium in this psycho-historical drama. My argument is not simply that the Symposium is amenable to psychoanalytic interpretation, as readers like Jacques Lacan (1991 [1957]) and Jonathan Lear (1999) have already demonstrated. (2) Rather, my argument is that psychoanalysis offers a powerful vocabulary for understanding the genesis of philosophical eros, and that the Symposium is likewise a key resource for illuminating the prehistory of Socratic philosophy precisely because its account of the eros for philosophy is traceable to the Herodotean inquiry concerning Solon's role in an ancient quarrel about the meaning of happiness. My argument, in short, is that the eros for philosophy has its source in an all too human dynamic of seduction, and that the psychoanalytic theory of seduction is uniquely capable of elaborating the account of philosophical seduction in the Symposium--precisely because the psychoanalytic and Platonic accounts share the same fundamental structure. To be clear: I am not arguing that either Solon or Herodotus is the sole antecedent to the Socratic tradition, nor that one cannot find older or more diverse sources for the constellation of themes that link Herodotus to Plato through what I shall call the Solonian legacy in Socrates. Rather, my argument is concerned to show that a certain collection of themes converge in the figure of Solon, and that by virtue of their transformation in the Symposium, it is possible to consider both Plato's indebtedness to the Solonian teaching, as well as the specific terms of his divergence. For introductory purposes, I cite four fundamental themes that define the appearance of Solon's legacy. (3) 1. A tension between olbos and eudaimonia i
{"title":"The Solonian Legacy in Socrates","authors":"Lucas Fain","doi":"10.1353/HEL.2015.0014","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/HEL.2015.0014","url":null,"abstract":"[TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII] But before he is dead, wait, and do not yet call him happy, but fortunate. --Solon (1) Prologue What does the history of philosophy look like from the perspective of psychoanalysis? In the present essay, I propose to consider a specific moment in the history of philosophy, namely, the intervention of eros in the historical transition from Herodotean inquiry to Platonic philosophy. If psychoanalysis makes a difference as to how we understand the history of philosophy, what can it tell us about the significance of eros for the tradition of philosophy initiated by Socrates? In asking this question, my aim is twofold. First, I want to demonstrate that a psychoanalytic approach to the history of philosophy not only is plausible, but that by virtue of its insight into the wishes and fantasies that motivate human behavior, it can help us to understand how eros intervenes to motivate the Platonic account of the Socratic unity of happiness and philosophy. Where the historical significance of this account is at stake, we shall have to investigate both the prehistory of the Socratic tradition and its major connection to a Platonic account of the eros for philosophy. Hence my second aim: to demonstrate the central importance of Plato's Symposium in this psycho-historical drama. My argument is not simply that the Symposium is amenable to psychoanalytic interpretation, as readers like Jacques Lacan (1991 [1957]) and Jonathan Lear (1999) have already demonstrated. (2) Rather, my argument is that psychoanalysis offers a powerful vocabulary for understanding the genesis of philosophical eros, and that the Symposium is likewise a key resource for illuminating the prehistory of Socratic philosophy precisely because its account of the eros for philosophy is traceable to the Herodotean inquiry concerning Solon's role in an ancient quarrel about the meaning of happiness. My argument, in short, is that the eros for philosophy has its source in an all too human dynamic of seduction, and that the psychoanalytic theory of seduction is uniquely capable of elaborating the account of philosophical seduction in the Symposium--precisely because the psychoanalytic and Platonic accounts share the same fundamental structure. To be clear: I am not arguing that either Solon or Herodotus is the sole antecedent to the Socratic tradition, nor that one cannot find older or more diverse sources for the constellation of themes that link Herodotus to Plato through what I shall call the Solonian legacy in Socrates. Rather, my argument is concerned to show that a certain collection of themes converge in the figure of Solon, and that by virtue of their transformation in the Symposium, it is possible to consider both Plato's indebtedness to the Solonian teaching, as well as the specific terms of his divergence. For introductory purposes, I cite four fundamental themes that define the appearance of Solon's legacy. (3) 1. A tension between olbos and eudaimonia i","PeriodicalId":43032,"journal":{"name":"HELIOS","volume":"42 1","pages":"209 - 243"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2015-09-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.1353/HEL.2015.0014","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"66419599","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Scholarship on prostitution in ancient Greece, specifically classical Athens, commonly ignores the violence surrounding sexual labor. Whereas violence is central to discussions of prostitution in the modern context, the focus on the ancient hetaira as a courtesan has obscured the reality of Greek prostitutes, many of whom were slaves and vulnerable to abuse. (1) It is not just the obvious fact that prostitution could at times be violent--women, girls, and household slaves in general were at risk for sexual violence more broadly (as comic plots attest and as ancient warfare demonstrates (2))--but that such violence was constructed differently for sex laborers than other social groups: the prostitute body is deemed an accessible body and that accessibility normalizes sexual violence against it and creates a double standard of violence. (3) It is this construction of violence that I begin to explore here by comparing two narratives of sexual assault as recounted by the sex slave Habrotonon in Menander's Epitrepontes. In comparing the two narratives, I place special emphasis on the narrative voice (a shift from third person to first person), the intended context for the narrative (a private conversation between slaves versus a conversation at the symposium), and the identity of the victim (a citizen girl versus a sex slave). Also important is the fact that the narrator of both accounts is the same person, the sex slave Habrotonon. The plot of Menander's Epitrepontes (The Arbitrators) is typical of New Comedy in that the plot hinges on the rape of a young citizen woman by an unknown and inebriated assailant at a night festival (in this case the Tauropolia). (4) The victim becomes pregnant from the rape. The rapist, discovered to be a wealthy young citizen, does the right thing by acknowledging his child and uniting with the mother. All ends happily. Specific to the plot of this play is the fact that when the action begins, the victim, Pamphile, is unknowingly married to her assailant. Charisius, her husband, has discovered the pregnancy, though not his role in it, and left the marriage to take up with a slave prostitute, Habrotonon. Habrotonon, in turn, discovers that the father of the child is Charisius. Hoping to acquire her freedom, she reveals the child to Charisius, who then happily reunites with his wife. As noted by Hunter Gardner (2013) and Sharon James (2014), the Epitrepontes is unique in that it presents details of a sexual assault and its effect on the victim. (5) Habrotonon recounts the event as follows (486-90): [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII]. Although being there with us, she [Pamphile] wandered off. Then suddenly she ran up alone crying and pulling out her hair [in grief]. Oh gods--she had totally ruined her light cloak, very beautiful and fine; for the whole thing was a tattered rag. Pamphile is described here as hysterical after the encounter, crying and pulling out her hair. The violence of the event and its effect on the victim a
{"title":"A Hierarchy of Violence?: Sex Slaves, Parthenoi, and Rape in Menander’s Epitrepontes","authors":"A. Glazebrook","doi":"10.1353/HEL.2015.0005","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/HEL.2015.0005","url":null,"abstract":"Scholarship on prostitution in ancient Greece, specifically classical Athens, commonly ignores the violence surrounding sexual labor. Whereas violence is central to discussions of prostitution in the modern context, the focus on the ancient hetaira as a courtesan has obscured the reality of Greek prostitutes, many of whom were slaves and vulnerable to abuse. (1) It is not just the obvious fact that prostitution could at times be violent--women, girls, and household slaves in general were at risk for sexual violence more broadly (as comic plots attest and as ancient warfare demonstrates (2))--but that such violence was constructed differently for sex laborers than other social groups: the prostitute body is deemed an accessible body and that accessibility normalizes sexual violence against it and creates a double standard of violence. (3) It is this construction of violence that I begin to explore here by comparing two narratives of sexual assault as recounted by the sex slave Habrotonon in Menander's Epitrepontes. In comparing the two narratives, I place special emphasis on the narrative voice (a shift from third person to first person), the intended context for the narrative (a private conversation between slaves versus a conversation at the symposium), and the identity of the victim (a citizen girl versus a sex slave). Also important is the fact that the narrator of both accounts is the same person, the sex slave Habrotonon. The plot of Menander's Epitrepontes (The Arbitrators) is typical of New Comedy in that the plot hinges on the rape of a young citizen woman by an unknown and inebriated assailant at a night festival (in this case the Tauropolia). (4) The victim becomes pregnant from the rape. The rapist, discovered to be a wealthy young citizen, does the right thing by acknowledging his child and uniting with the mother. All ends happily. Specific to the plot of this play is the fact that when the action begins, the victim, Pamphile, is unknowingly married to her assailant. Charisius, her husband, has discovered the pregnancy, though not his role in it, and left the marriage to take up with a slave prostitute, Habrotonon. Habrotonon, in turn, discovers that the father of the child is Charisius. Hoping to acquire her freedom, she reveals the child to Charisius, who then happily reunites with his wife. As noted by Hunter Gardner (2013) and Sharon James (2014), the Epitrepontes is unique in that it presents details of a sexual assault and its effect on the victim. (5) Habrotonon recounts the event as follows (486-90): [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII]. Although being there with us, she [Pamphile] wandered off. Then suddenly she ran up alone crying and pulling out her hair [in grief]. Oh gods--she had totally ruined her light cloak, very beautiful and fine; for the whole thing was a tattered rag. Pamphile is described here as hysterical after the encounter, crying and pulling out her hair. The violence of the event and its effect on the victim a","PeriodicalId":43032,"journal":{"name":"HELIOS","volume":"42 1","pages":"101 - 81"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2015-03-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.1353/HEL.2015.0005","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"66419878","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
"Whores are not a homogenous class." Adams, "Words for Prostitute in Latin" is apud scortum corruptelae est liberis, lustris studet. Plautus, Asinaria "And all the time corrupting his children at a harlot's, haunting houses of ill fame!" Nixon, Plautus, The Comedy of Asses "And all the time he's teaching Rip how to make it with Cleareta's whores ..." Chappell, Plautus, "Asses Galore" "Now he's chez tart. A freeborn child's perversion, lover of morass." John Henderson, Asinaria "In reality he corrupts his son at a prostitute's and frequents the brothels." De Melo, Plautus, The Comedy of Asses The last twenty years have seen a renewed interest in sex labor in antiquity, (1) with colleges offering more courses on women in antiquity, Roman comedy, and sexuality in the ancient world, and Roman Civilization courses including units on women. These classes, largely aimed at undergraduates, require clear and accurate translations of the Latin material and a thorough understanding of the types of sex labor in the Roman world. It is therefore time to reevaluate terminology--to reconsider the kinds of sex labor in the texts, and how they can be understood. There have been studies on Greek sexual vocabulary (2) and examinations of the importance of distinctions in the terms for sex labor, (3) but these have focused on technical terminology, not the lived realities that the terminology represents. Few similar studies have been attempted for Latin. (4) Drawing on Roman comedy as a test case, I offer here a survey of various problems of terminology for sex labor (in translation, teaching, and scholarship) and reflect on why such terminology should be considered a problem at all. Translation of, and scholarship on, sex labor in Latin literature is problematic for two reasons: (1) the limited vocabulary of Latin in these plays does not adequately express the myriad historical situations of sex laborers, which must be gleaned from context; and (2) the English terminology frequently used is too fluid and cannot express Roman cultural situations. When translating either for those not fluent in Latin or for scholarship (which is written in their native languages), translators deliberately take foreign words in ancient contexts and then provide these words with modern approximations that are given meaning through contemporaneous understanding of those words. When situations involving sex labor are translated, the realities of the laborers are often obscured: euphemisms prejudice readers, moralizing judgments are perpetuated, and lived realities of sex laborers in antiquity are easily glossed over or dismissed. This phenomenon has occurred, for example, in translations of Roman Comedy with regard to rape, which historically has been bowdlerized into "seduction" in English translations or has been edited out altogether. (5) The majority of Roman comedies feature sex labor. (6) The three most common words for female sex laborer in Roman comedy are arnica, meretrix, and sc
{"title":"Harlots, Tarts, and Hussies?: A Problem of Terminology for Sex Labor in Roman Comedy","authors":"Serena S. Witzke","doi":"10.1353/HEL.2015.0000","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/HEL.2015.0000","url":null,"abstract":"\"Whores are not a homogenous class.\" Adams, \"Words for Prostitute in Latin\" is apud scortum corruptelae est liberis, lustris studet. Plautus, Asinaria \"And all the time corrupting his children at a harlot's, haunting houses of ill fame!\" Nixon, Plautus, The Comedy of Asses \"And all the time he's teaching Rip how to make it with Cleareta's whores ...\" Chappell, Plautus, \"Asses Galore\" \"Now he's chez tart. A freeborn child's perversion, lover of morass.\" John Henderson, Asinaria \"In reality he corrupts his son at a prostitute's and frequents the brothels.\" De Melo, Plautus, The Comedy of Asses The last twenty years have seen a renewed interest in sex labor in antiquity, (1) with colleges offering more courses on women in antiquity, Roman comedy, and sexuality in the ancient world, and Roman Civilization courses including units on women. These classes, largely aimed at undergraduates, require clear and accurate translations of the Latin material and a thorough understanding of the types of sex labor in the Roman world. It is therefore time to reevaluate terminology--to reconsider the kinds of sex labor in the texts, and how they can be understood. There have been studies on Greek sexual vocabulary (2) and examinations of the importance of distinctions in the terms for sex labor, (3) but these have focused on technical terminology, not the lived realities that the terminology represents. Few similar studies have been attempted for Latin. (4) Drawing on Roman comedy as a test case, I offer here a survey of various problems of terminology for sex labor (in translation, teaching, and scholarship) and reflect on why such terminology should be considered a problem at all. Translation of, and scholarship on, sex labor in Latin literature is problematic for two reasons: (1) the limited vocabulary of Latin in these plays does not adequately express the myriad historical situations of sex laborers, which must be gleaned from context; and (2) the English terminology frequently used is too fluid and cannot express Roman cultural situations. When translating either for those not fluent in Latin or for scholarship (which is written in their native languages), translators deliberately take foreign words in ancient contexts and then provide these words with modern approximations that are given meaning through contemporaneous understanding of those words. When situations involving sex labor are translated, the realities of the laborers are often obscured: euphemisms prejudice readers, moralizing judgments are perpetuated, and lived realities of sex laborers in antiquity are easily glossed over or dismissed. This phenomenon has occurred, for example, in translations of Roman Comedy with regard to rape, which historically has been bowdlerized into \"seduction\" in English translations or has been edited out altogether. (5) The majority of Roman comedies feature sex labor. (6) The three most common words for female sex laborer in Roman comedy are arnica, meretrix, and sc","PeriodicalId":43032,"journal":{"name":"HELIOS","volume":"27 1","pages":"27 - 7"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2015-03-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.1353/HEL.2015.0000","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"66419292","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Can a single object change how we think about ancient sexual labor? Using the evidence of an artefact excavated near Pompeii, in this article I argue that our material evidence for sexual labor has not been properly appreciated, and that by more fully considering the range of human relationships associated with and enabled by objects, the possibilities for a more nuanced understanding of the entanglements of people, objects, sex, and labor become apparent. Approaches to the archeology of slavery in the Roman world have advanced greatly in recent years. Far from invisibility, comparative approaches have been harnessed to find the presence of slaves beyond the visual evidence and material culture of restraint (such as chains, shackles, or bullae) to interpret more ephemeral archeological traces including graffiti and leather footwear. (1) Despite such advances, a glance at recent works on material culture and slavery in the Roman world reveals that there is still a heavy reliance on textual and visual depictions rather than on material culture. (2) However, considering the material production of labor in the Roman world is one way we can access slavery archeologically: from the storage of surplus indicative of a slave-owning household, to places where slaves worked and were held, to landscapes transformed by the labor of the unfree. (3) But what can material culture contribute to our knowledge of sexual labor and to the debates surrounding slaves and sex? One way is the study of brothels, as Thomas McGinn has expertly demonstrated. (4) Sexual labor within a domestic setting has not commonly been included in the economy of Roman prostitution. (5) Nor have historians of ancient labor or archeologists usually considered sexual work (free or unfree) amongst household labors. (6) Within the household, a slave had no choice but to participate in any sexual act the free members of the household desired of them. Any slave could be a sex slave. (7) Within this asymmetrical power arrangement of masters and slaves engaging in sex, there must have been a range of relationships--from those slaves who lived under constant threat to those who consciously leveraged their own desirability to try and improve their lot; indeed, these situations might coincide within a single person and complicate issues surrounding what we could consider to be consent. In this short contribution, I hope to show that material culture can be a powerful tool with which to reflect on how we think about sexual labor in the Roman world (and how we, as scholars, often do not). One way in which this is possible is by acknowledging the ambiguities in our evidence, and the multiple narratives that may be drawn from them. Acknowledging ambiguities encourages more reflexive and reflective interpretations, enabling the challenging of, rather than replication of, power structures both within our discipline and in the Roman world. (8) Archeological evidence is by its nature material, fragmentary, a
{"title":"On Reading the Material Culture of Ancient Sexual Labor","authors":"J. Baird","doi":"10.1353/HEL.2015.0001","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/HEL.2015.0001","url":null,"abstract":"Can a single object change how we think about ancient sexual labor? Using the evidence of an artefact excavated near Pompeii, in this article I argue that our material evidence for sexual labor has not been properly appreciated, and that by more fully considering the range of human relationships associated with and enabled by objects, the possibilities for a more nuanced understanding of the entanglements of people, objects, sex, and labor become apparent. Approaches to the archeology of slavery in the Roman world have advanced greatly in recent years. Far from invisibility, comparative approaches have been harnessed to find the presence of slaves beyond the visual evidence and material culture of restraint (such as chains, shackles, or bullae) to interpret more ephemeral archeological traces including graffiti and leather footwear. (1) Despite such advances, a glance at recent works on material culture and slavery in the Roman world reveals that there is still a heavy reliance on textual and visual depictions rather than on material culture. (2) However, considering the material production of labor in the Roman world is one way we can access slavery archeologically: from the storage of surplus indicative of a slave-owning household, to places where slaves worked and were held, to landscapes transformed by the labor of the unfree. (3) But what can material culture contribute to our knowledge of sexual labor and to the debates surrounding slaves and sex? One way is the study of brothels, as Thomas McGinn has expertly demonstrated. (4) Sexual labor within a domestic setting has not commonly been included in the economy of Roman prostitution. (5) Nor have historians of ancient labor or archeologists usually considered sexual work (free or unfree) amongst household labors. (6) Within the household, a slave had no choice but to participate in any sexual act the free members of the household desired of them. Any slave could be a sex slave. (7) Within this asymmetrical power arrangement of masters and slaves engaging in sex, there must have been a range of relationships--from those slaves who lived under constant threat to those who consciously leveraged their own desirability to try and improve their lot; indeed, these situations might coincide within a single person and complicate issues surrounding what we could consider to be consent. In this short contribution, I hope to show that material culture can be a powerful tool with which to reflect on how we think about sexual labor in the Roman world (and how we, as scholars, often do not). One way in which this is possible is by acknowledging the ambiguities in our evidence, and the multiple narratives that may be drawn from them. Acknowledging ambiguities encourages more reflexive and reflective interpretations, enabling the challenging of, rather than replication of, power structures both within our discipline and in the Roman world. (8) Archeological evidence is by its nature material, fragmentary, a","PeriodicalId":43032,"journal":{"name":"HELIOS","volume":"42 1","pages":"163 - 175"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2015-03-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.1353/HEL.2015.0001","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"66419804","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Introduction Symposiasts in the late archaic Greek period began hiring trained female slaves to furnish musical entertainment. (1) The profession grew so pervasive that the female aulos player, the auletris, came to seem as necessary to a proper party as wreaths and wine. While shopping for party supplies, for example, Theophrastus's repulsive man hires some pipers. What is so repulsive? He shows off his supplies, makes indiscriminate invitations, and boasts at the barber's and perfumer's shops that he will get drunk. (2) And how do the pipers fit? James Diggle (2004, 318-9) suggests that Mr. Repulsive, in addition to being a braggart, also offends when he insinuates that his guests can have sex with the women. Although I am not convinced that the neuter tauta includes the pipers with the other supplies, as Higgle infers, in any case the only sexual insinuation in the text would have to stem from the nature of the pipers themselves. Mr. Repulsive does not mention sex, but drunkenness. The question becomes, Must the female piper imply venal sex? Recent scholarship has indeed emphasized the female piper's sexual labor, even taking the word auletris as a synonym for prostitute. (3) James Davidson (1997, 81) has influentially highlighted the sexual role of the female piper, one that not only has her regularly provide sex for the guests at the end of the symposium, but also imagines her soliciting men on the street. Many scholars follow Davidson to a greater or lesser degree. (4) Matthew Dillon (2002, 183), for example, presumes that female pipers ended their performances by having sex with the guests. Warren Anderson (1994, 143) follows a similar assumption and unaccountably undresses them: "Auletrides, scantily clad young women, were paid to provide all-male gatherings of symposiasts with aulos music and fellation." Marina Fischer (2013, 222) claims that entertainers provided "not only musical and acrobatic entertainment during banquets but also engaged in sexual activities with the symposiasts (D. 59.33; Is. 3.13-17)." Fischer's claim is particularly difficult to evaluate because neither passage cited mentions entertainers. Other scholars have underplayed the element of prostitution. Kenneth Dover (1968, 220) says that "it would be unfair to say" that slaves hired to entertain at the symposium "were necessarily prostitutes, although they could be prostituted." Chester Starr (1978, 409) believes that the evidence does not allow us to imagine that the symposium with female entertainers "always, or even usually" resulted in orgies. Given the servile status of the auletris and her frequent presence among groups of carousing men, she was likely at times subject to prostitution. I have found no certain evidence, however, that she ever engaged in venal sex within the symposium and evidence for prostitution is slim and vague. What the evidence, written and visual, does reveal is that the female piper in classical Athens had a far more complex and nuanced s
{"title":"Associating the Aulêtris: Flute Girls and Prostitutes in the Classical Greek Symposium","authors":"Maxwell Goldman","doi":"10.1353/HEL.2015.0002","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/HEL.2015.0002","url":null,"abstract":"Introduction Symposiasts in the late archaic Greek period began hiring trained female slaves to furnish musical entertainment. (1) The profession grew so pervasive that the female aulos player, the auletris, came to seem as necessary to a proper party as wreaths and wine. While shopping for party supplies, for example, Theophrastus's repulsive man hires some pipers. What is so repulsive? He shows off his supplies, makes indiscriminate invitations, and boasts at the barber's and perfumer's shops that he will get drunk. (2) And how do the pipers fit? James Diggle (2004, 318-9) suggests that Mr. Repulsive, in addition to being a braggart, also offends when he insinuates that his guests can have sex with the women. Although I am not convinced that the neuter tauta includes the pipers with the other supplies, as Higgle infers, in any case the only sexual insinuation in the text would have to stem from the nature of the pipers themselves. Mr. Repulsive does not mention sex, but drunkenness. The question becomes, Must the female piper imply venal sex? Recent scholarship has indeed emphasized the female piper's sexual labor, even taking the word auletris as a synonym for prostitute. (3) James Davidson (1997, 81) has influentially highlighted the sexual role of the female piper, one that not only has her regularly provide sex for the guests at the end of the symposium, but also imagines her soliciting men on the street. Many scholars follow Davidson to a greater or lesser degree. (4) Matthew Dillon (2002, 183), for example, presumes that female pipers ended their performances by having sex with the guests. Warren Anderson (1994, 143) follows a similar assumption and unaccountably undresses them: \"Auletrides, scantily clad young women, were paid to provide all-male gatherings of symposiasts with aulos music and fellation.\" Marina Fischer (2013, 222) claims that entertainers provided \"not only musical and acrobatic entertainment during banquets but also engaged in sexual activities with the symposiasts (D. 59.33; Is. 3.13-17).\" Fischer's claim is particularly difficult to evaluate because neither passage cited mentions entertainers. Other scholars have underplayed the element of prostitution. Kenneth Dover (1968, 220) says that \"it would be unfair to say\" that slaves hired to entertain at the symposium \"were necessarily prostitutes, although they could be prostituted.\" Chester Starr (1978, 409) believes that the evidence does not allow us to imagine that the symposium with female entertainers \"always, or even usually\" resulted in orgies. Given the servile status of the auletris and her frequent presence among groups of carousing men, she was likely at times subject to prostitution. I have found no certain evidence, however, that she ever engaged in venal sex within the symposium and evidence for prostitution is slim and vague. What the evidence, written and visual, does reveal is that the female piper in classical Athens had a far more complex and nuanced s","PeriodicalId":43032,"journal":{"name":"HELIOS","volume":"42 1","pages":"29 - 60"},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2015-03-22","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.1353/HEL.2015.0002","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"66419826","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":3,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
The plays of Plautus and Terence provide a rich database that can be used to document the variety of forms that sexual labor manifested in the Roman republic. (1) Even though the contexts are fictional and the plays consistently represent adaptations of Greek originals, for the plays to be meaningful there must exist some correspondence between the world depicted in the plays and the city in which they were performed. (2) Women occupying a wide range of socio-economic positions are presented as sex workers (meretrices), and the range of attitudes to the labor they provide allows meaningful contrast between them as individuals. Three categories define this labor in financial terms: the meretrix can be a noncitizen but free entrepreneur surviving on the fringes of society (e.g., Asinaria, Bacchides, Cistellaria, Truculentus); she may be a slave who is to be sold for a profit (e.g., Rudens, Curculio); or she may be rented for short-term contracts (e.g., Persa, Pseudolus). (3) In the case of the latter two categories, the slave's owner may be considered a leno (a dealer in sex slaves, a term often translated as "pimp"), even if he identifies primarily with another profession. This article considers a fourth category of sexual labor that appears to fall outside of this Roman economy of prostitution (as described by McGinn 2004): the domestic slave used for sex. Since slaves lacked most rights (any legal obligation or recompense was due instead to their owners), they were available for sexual use at any time by their master or anyone he may choose. The domestic slave was particularly vulnerable since, in the urban context presented in the plays, she lives in the same building as someone who can rape her regularly and against which she has no legal recourse. (4) I am therefore defining domestic sexual labor more narrowly than does Sharon James, (5) confining myself to situations where there is no exchange of money or objects of value for sexual acts. (6) Even if the owner uses terms such as "love" when he speaks to his friends, or happens to treat her modestly (as the pimp Cappadox does Planesium in Curculio (7)), there should be no doubt that this continues to be forced sexual activity and, therefore, rape. Since the owner's rights over the woman are absolute, the direct continuity between forced sex and other types of violence cannot be understated. (8) Of course, a slave woman's situation may change at the master's whim. At any time she may be sent to provide sexual favors to a houseguest as a gift, for money, or with an eye to a sale; (9) or she may one day be seen as too old or sexually undesirable. This is evidently the fate of Scapha in Mostell. 199-202: vides quae sim et quae fui ante. nilo ego quam nunc tu *** 200 *** amata sum; atque uni modo gessi morem: 200a qui pol me, ubi aetate hoc caput colorem commutavit, 201 reliquit deseruitque me. tibi idem futurum credo. You can see who I am and who I was before. No less than you now I *** I was lov
普劳图斯和特伦斯的戏剧提供了一个丰富的数据库，可以用来记录罗马共和国性劳动的各种形式。(1)尽管背景是虚构的，而且戏剧始终是对希腊原著的改编，但为了使戏剧有意义，戏剧所描绘的世界和演出的城市之间必须存在某种对应关系。(2)占据各种社会经济地位的妇女被描述为性工作者(度量单位)，她们对所提供劳动的态度的范围允许她们作为个体进行有意义的对比。在金融术语中，有三类定义了这种劳动:meretrix可以是一个非公民但在社会边缘生存的自由企业家(例如，Asinaria, Bacchides, Cistellaria, Truculentus);她可能是一个为了利润而被出售的奴隶(例如，Rudens, Curculio);或者她可能会被短期租赁(例如，Persa, Pseudolus)。(3)在后两种情况下，奴隶的主人可能被认为是雷诺(性奴隶贩子，这个词通常被翻译为“皮条客”)，即使他主要认同另一种职业。这篇文章考虑了第四种性劳动，它似乎不属于罗马的卖淫经济(如McGinn 2004年所描述的):用于性的家庭奴隶。由于奴隶缺乏大多数权利(任何法律义务或补偿都应归功于他们的主人)，他们随时可以被主人或他所选择的任何人用于性行为。家奴尤其脆弱，因为在剧中的城市背景下，她和经常强奸她的人住在同一栋楼里，而她没有法律追索权。(4)因此，我对家庭性劳动的定义比莎伦·詹姆斯(Sharon James)更狭隘，(5)把我自己限定在没有金钱或有价值物品交换的性行为的情况下。(6)即使主人在与朋友交谈时使用了“爱”之类的词语，或者碰巧对她很谦虚(就像皮条客卡帕多克斯在库库利奥(Curculio)对Planesium所做的那样)，毫无疑问，这仍然是强迫的性行为，因此是强奸。由于主人对妇女的权利是绝对的，因此不能低估强迫的性行为和其他类型的暴力之间的直接连续性。(8)当然，女奴的处境可能因主人的一时兴起而改变。在任何时候，她可能会被派去提供性恩惠的客人作为礼物，为钱，或着眼于销售;否则有一天她可能会被视为太老或性不受欢迎。这显然是斯卡帕在莫斯泰尔的命运。Nilo ego quam nunc tu *** 200 *** amata sum;一种特殊的模式是一种特殊的模式，一种特殊的模式是一种特殊的模式，另一种是一种特殊的模式。Tibi idem futurum信条。你可以看到我是谁，我以前是谁。现在的我不比你***被人爱;我只把自己献给了一个人当这头因年老而变色时，他离开了我，抛弃了我。我相信同样的事情也会发生在你身上。即使这些妇女主要不是为了满足其主人的性满足，她们也可能在任何时候被派上用场。在一些戏剧中，家庭关系代表了最后的叙事情境:因为它提供了一个积极的结论(我的意思是，一般来说，观众对剧中成年人的性结局的同情是一致的)，任何所谓的“幸福”结局都只关注于男性的满足感，而不考虑女性的法律地位或偏好。(10)例如，在普劳图斯的《伪神录》中，腓尼基姆一开始是皮条客巴利奥拥有的众多性奴隶之一。巴利奥的开场歌曲包括对他所有性奴隶的指示，包括确定每个女人吸引的专业客户:例如，埃斯科多拉服务于屠夫(196-201)，而Xystilis负责橄榄商人(209-17)。．..
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