Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
V L K
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Henrietta Street
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Preface ix
Introduction
. Pandora’s Light
P, O A
T G P
M R P
P’ W
Epilogue
Notes
Bibliography
Index
ix
x Preface
published ideas. This per petual s eparation betw een on e’s childr en an d
one’s ideas i s a pa inful r eminder of Diotima’s obs ervation r egarding the
severing of an intellectual sphere of “giving birth in beauty” from a phys-
ical on e. Diotima’s r eference t o th e infer ior st atus of women as simple
(earthly) bir th-givers pr ovides an impor tant insig ht in to th e deep par a-
doxical ess ence of femininity. This par adox un derlies th e v ery exi stence
of both men an d w omen. That i s wh y th e ir resolvable tension betw een
being a n urturing mother and a dev oted w riter r everberates in so man y
other par adoxical stru ctures tha t go vern our exper ience. The r iddle of
femininity i s n ot di fferent fr om th e r iddle of eros with its s ensual an d
transcendental dua lity, or the folds of meaning that the par adox of alle-
gory conceals beneath its dec eitful surface of signification.
This book i s infused with the spirit of friendship of many people wh ose
presence in m y life i s indispensably significant. I am c ertain that without
them m y exper ience of writing w ould ha ve been lon ely an d anxious. I
wish t o expr ess m y lo ve t o Gor don an d J ay Williams, whose gen erosity
and encouragement are outstanding. My studies with Gordon Williams at
Yale University have t aught me tha t the work of deciphering should not
take for g ranted th e possibilit y of an immedi ate un derstanding; it must
always pr oceed under a h ermeneutics of suspicion. Gordon’s teaching i s
as dear an d fundamental to me as hi s friendship. David Konstan’s analy-
sis of philia and emotions in antiquity reflects a most amicable soul. I am
grateful for his extraordinary friendship, wisdom, and kindness. I wish to
thank Froma Zeitlin, Alison Sharrock, Sheila-Marie Flaherty-Jones, Andrew
Laird, Jonathan Bernstein, Jane Barry, and Michael Zakim, who read parts
of my manuscript or th e whole work. Their own work, acute r esponses,
and exper ience enr iched me an d thi s book. Special thanks t o P atricia
Rosenmeyer, the coeditor of the Wisconsin Studies in Classics, who wel-
comed this book and made its publication possible. I acknowledge with ap-
preciation her crucial and constant support. Thanks to Raphael Kadushin,
the h umanities edit or of the University of Wisconsin P ress, and M aggie
Hilliard, the a cquisitions assi stant, for th eir h elp. I w ish t o thank m y
friends and c olleagues in th e F aculty of Humanities a t th e University of
Haifa, and in particular Nitza Ben-Dov and Gabriel Zoran of the Depart-
ment of Hebrew and Comparative Literature. I am g rateful to Yossi Ben-
Artzi; Benjamin Isaak, whose encouragement was vital; and also Ayelet Peer,
Ittai Weinryb, and my r esearch assi stants, Sharon Meyer and Yael Nezer.
xii Preface
My mother and father, Ester and Dov Lev, did everything to make this
period o f reflection an d w riting possible. The memor y of their dev oted
nurturing of my baby in the first months of her life w ill be ever fresh. To
my second mother, Nurith Kenaan-Kedar, I want to say that her uncom-
promising st ance on a ll fr onts of life, her lo ve of art, and h er outst and-
ing wa y of giving a ccompany me ev erywhere an d for ev er. The br ight
thinking and tenderness of Lior Levy illuminate my life. My sisters, Ariela
Levy and Racheli Bar-Lev, and their daughters, Lior, Efrat, Yael, and Tami,
create the loveliest possible manifest ation of sisterhood. I w ish to thank
Benjamin Z. Kedar, whose immaculate erudition is exemplary and whose
originality i s enlig htening. Thanks t o J onathan Cana an, whose amazing
musical creations are a source of joy and reflection. My close friends who
read, commented, and raised excellent questions have cheered me all along
the way: Yaron Senderowicz, Eli Friedlander, Noa Naaman-Zauderer, and
Eli Stern; my a dmired an d belo ved fr iend Lior a Bilsky, whose w ork on
feminism an d nar rative has been inspir ational an d wh ose in vigorating
rhythm is always enticing; my beloved friend Michal Grover Friedlander,
whose ar tistic an d th eoretical cr eations mak e life ev en mor e in triguing.
Thanks to Ariel Meirav from the philosophy department at the University
of Haifa, as dear t o me as a br other, whose per ceptive understanding in
matters personal and intellectual alike is one of the most pr ecious things
I have.
The fruits of my passiona te di alogue w ith H agi Baru ch K enaan ar e
present in ev ery page of this book. His f ace, a home to me, makes w rit-
ing an a ct of addressing. I dedica te thi s book t o our first da ughter, Ilil
Lev Kenaan, who was born tw elve years ago while w e were both w riting
our theses at Yale University. Her beauty, wisdom, and fr iendship ar e an
integral part of my investigation of Pandora’s Senses.
Pandora’s Senses
Introduction
The title Pandora’s Senses: The Feminine Character of the Ancient Text fol-
lows a w ell-known c onvention in a cademic w riting. This i s a stu dy tha t
presents itself under a double title: a main title and a subtitle. What is the
connection between Pandora and “the feminine char acter of the ancient
text”? How can the particularity of a specific mythical figure bear on our
understanding of the ancient text? What i s th e r elationship betw een th e
enigmatic image of the first woman and the enigma lying at the heart of
every text, an enigma that marks our desir e for th e text’s meaning?
But first, what i s th e r elationship betw een a title an d its subtitle? I s a
subtitle subjected to its title? I n what ways does a subtitle oper ate under
its governing title? Is a subtitle merely an additional, subsidiary elaboration
of a given meaning, or is it a supplemen t in a Der ridian sense? Although
Odysseus bears th e name Outis, “Nobody,” in the cave of the Cyclops, he
would not ultimately sail away before naming hims elf again. In the epic,
the r epetitive act of naming has a nar ratological function. The q uestion
of identity is a temporal one, and in this sense the hero’s two names never
overlap. Secondary naming i s n ever a mer e supplemen t. In th e cas e of
Odysseus, it signifies a tr ansition from the indistinctiveness of a name t o
a name tha t embodies an in dividual distinction.
Similarly, while q ualifying th e first title, a subtitle ma y a lso r adicalize
it an d put it in motion. In its defer ral of a title ’s meaning , a subtitle i s
the pla ce for an after thought. How does s econdary meaning a ffect an
“original” meaning? Or, to put th e question in th e context of this book’s
central image, how does th e feminin e (wh ose meaning fulness i s tr adi-
tionally understood as der ivative and secondary) affect the already estab-
lished or der of texts? I n Metamorphoses, the supplemen tary fun ction of
Introduction
The subtitle of this book, The Feminine Character of the Ancient Text, is
meant t o ech o th e s enses of Pandora in a mann er tha t w ill r elease h er
name from its c onventional misogynist horizons. In feminist readings of
the classics, the term “releasing” has taken a meth odological turn. It des-
ignates a r eading that is contrasted with a str ategy of critically “resisting”
the masculine presuppositions that tr aditionally govern the formation of
the an cient text. The str ategy of releasing, as P atricia Sa lzman-Mitchell
puts it (following Alison Sharrock), is a reading that will “essentially allow
women’s voices to speak despite th e author. It i s a r eading of the fema le
voice in male-authored texts as independent from the male authorial inten-
tion.”2 Using the term in a similar s ense, my aim is to open up Pandora’s
Senses beyond th e contours of the tr aditional image of the first w oman,
and to do so b y relocating the myth of Pandora at the intersection of two
perspectives on the field of classics: gender studies and intertextuality. This
Introduction
study seeks to create a new place for Pandora in the current feminist dis-
cussion of the ancient text. By rearticulating the significance that she car-
ries for a femini st r eading, I w ish t o fr ee h er image fr om its der ogatory
connotations and from the marks of patriarchal construction, and show
how Pandora can appear as a po werful source of inspiration.
In thi s s ense, the pr esent stu dy i s par t of a s eries of current femini st
readings. For these r eadings the path to the sig nificance of the feminine
does not remain within the bounds of a negation, a critique, or a dec on-
struction of the mythical constructions of gender. Yet thi s r elatively new
point of view on th e ancient text c ould not have become par t of classics
without a feminist tradition whose initial goal was to resist the masculine
framing of the ancient text.
In th e last deca des, feminist in terpreters, as w ell as w omen ar tists,
poets, and novelists, have brought about a rewriting of the classical works
of the Western can on. In th eir r eadings femini sts str ive t o mak e v isible
and to fill in th e lacunae of the feminine voice, perspective, position, and
identity, all of which ar e t ypically obscur ed in r elation t o masculin e
agency in th e ancient text. Ann Bergren’s rereading of Homer, for exam-
ple, emphasizes th e pr ecedence of Helen’s perspecti ve.3 This impli es th e
need to release Helen from paternalistic constructions by which her figure
becomes meaning ful only on th e basi s of her r ole as eith er th e cause of
the war or an object of exchange between two armies. Hence, today Helen
is read, as Page duBois puts it, as an “‘actant’ in her own life, the subject
of a choice, exemplary in her desiring.”4 As Page duBois and Jack Winkler
have independently shown, this form of autonomous subjectivity, the access
to a distinctively feminine experience, was already available to writers and
readers in antiquity.5 Both duBois and Winkler exemplify th e presence of
feminine subjectivity in an tiquity by focusing on th e work of the famous
poetess and refined reader of Homer, Sappho. In their respective readings
of Sappho’s r eading of Homer, duBois an d Winkler un cover a feminin e
perspective thr ough which th e a ffective dimension of Helen’s subjecti v-
ity can sh ow its elf. Sappho’s H elen s ees things di fferently than H omer’s
Helen. And in thi s r espect th e q uestion of “what a w oman wan ts” calls
for an un derstanding tha t cann ot r emain w ithin th e boun ds of a man’s
field of vision. In a c orollary manner, we may a lso s ee why Sappho pro-
vides an exemplar y model for wha t it means t o write and read poetr y as
a woman.
The impact of gender stu dies has n ot been limited t o a r ecovering of
hidden feminine perspectives within classical literature, but has altogether
Introduction
changed the character of the classical canon. The canonical corpus of clas-
sical liter ature has lost th e pur ity of its masculin e iden tity. Again, the
figure of Helen i s a c entral foca l point in th e femini zation of the canon.
When th e sig nificance of Helen’s w eaving of the Iliad was r ecognized as
“a narration of Helen’s own story,” the distinctiveness of feminine forms
of representation became c entral t o th e deciph ering of the epic. 6 While
mentioned by the Homeric narrator, Helen’s work of art i s never turned
into an object of the authorial ar t of description. Yet once it i s obs erved
that Helen’s figurative weaving provides an alternative to the authoritative
perspective—an antithetical perspective—it can n o longer be ig nored. In
presenting an uncompromising point of view on the war, one that haunts
the hegemony of the authoritative narrator, Helen’s woven text mak es its
way into the classical corpus.
Lillian Doh erty’s Siren Song s: Ge nder, Audiences, and N arrators in th e
Odyssey () is a good example of how the symbolic presence of Helen
as a w riter of the Iliad becomes a gen eral pr inciple of interpretation.
Reading the Odyssey as an “open” and “plural” text impli es, according to
Doherty, that a pla ce must be ma de for th e roles of female char acters in
the stories and for th eir interest in h earing stories told. In a r ecent study,
Doherty focus es on th e Hesiodic Catal ogue of Women, traditionally r ead
as “a text c omposed by men for men. ”7 Examining the masculine r ecep-
tion of this text, she shows how the conventional understanding of it as a
genealogy of heroes covers up th e pr esence of women in th e Catalogue’s
title and neglects the fact that the text itself—albeit in a fr agmentary con-
dition—specifically takes issue with women and their desires.
Furthermore, pointing t o a possible or al feminin e tr adition, Doherty
suggests that the genealogy is a liter ary form tha t historically reflects the
concerns of women. Such th emes as amor ous r elationships, seduction,
rape, and giving birth are just as central to the form of genealogies as they
are t o w omen’s biog raphy. Since w omen ar e a ctive par ticipants in th e
creation of genealogies, it is plausible to see them as active also in the nar-
ration of genealogies. But i s the feminine ti ed to the genr e of genealogy
only thematically?
The idea of a genealogy, with its c lear teleolog ical linearity, may s eem
to emerge from a masculine, logocentric perception of the world. Yet once
we c onsider gen ealogies as texts, the par adigm of linearity f ails t o cap-
ture th e r ichness of the gen ealogical di scourse, which ten ds t o dig res-
sions, allusions t o marg inal a ffairs, and un expected ex cursions. Can th e
feminine be s een as a textua l pr inciple embedded in th e di scursive form
Introduction
way Adriana Cavarero ( ) does t o Plato or Sar ah Kofman ( ) and
Jane Gallop () do to Freud.11 Rather, we may explore how retelling the
old myth enables mythical writing to mirror our concerns and thus serve
as a sour ce for c onstructing a tr adition for femini st thinking. Hence, for
example, the announced aim of the recent Laughing w ith Medusa ()
is “to explore how classical myth has been c entral to the development of
feminist thought.”12
Moreover, beyond th e enig ma of mythical femininit y li es th e mor e
specific femini st explor ation of the q uestion of textuality, one tha t ca lls
for an ar ticulation in terms of the relationship between the figure of the
woman an d th e enig ma of the poetic utter ance, between a text an d its
meaning. This i s wh ere th e cur rent focus on th e m ythical figuration of
poetic inspiration as w oman or god dess becomes indispensable for femi-
nists. Why does the primal voice of poetry spring from a woman’s mouth,
a Muse or a Siren? How is the divine feminine voice related to the essence
of poetry? In Cultivating the Muse (), these questions are raised against
the background of different literary genres.13 In this context, the secular-
ization of the Muse in Roman love elegy and the complex matrix of fem-
inine narrators in the diverse corpus of Ovid’s poetry provide, as Efrossini
Spentzou () and Patricia Salzman-Mitchell () show, an exemplary
framework for ar ticulating the centrality of a feminine poetics. 14 It i s i n
this feminist context of reading classical myth that I w ould like to intro-
duce the book’s title: Pandora’s Senses.
The myth of Pandora, the first woman, presents one of the most in trigu-
ing figures of femininity. The discrepancy between Pandora’s beauty and
her ev il domina tes a long tr adition of images of women fr om H elen t o
Circe an d Ca lypso, Delilah an d Sa lome, and on t o th e modern femme
fatale, Bizet’s Carmen, Wedekind’s L ulu, and M ann’s R osa F röhlich. It
also r esonates, perhaps in mor e c omplicated wa ys, in su ch figures as
Madame Bovary and Anna Karenina. But while it i s clear to us as r eaders
why a Medea or a Circe is regarded as morally problematic, the evil nature
associated w ith th e pr ototypical w oman r emains vagu e an d i s a lways
dependent on th e ju dgmental perspecti ves of her an cient an d modern
interpreters. Is it because of Pandora’s opening of the jar tha t Hesiod de-
nounces her as ev il? Is it h er sexuality, her seductiveness, or the deceptive
nature of her sweet language? I ndeed, these tr aits of Pandora illuminate
her bad reputation. But since they are traditionally left unspeci fied, these
traits do not allow us to fathom her evil, beyond the general understanding
Introduction
that what makes Pandora evil is the very structure of sexuality, seduction,
and language.
Pandora embodi es an ir resolvable tension tha t i s tr aditionally under-
stood as constitutive of femininity—the tension between an outer appear-
ance an d a c oncealed in teriority. Pandora i s th e epit ome of the tw ofold
manner in which the feminine lends itself to the masculine gaze. While her
seductive beauty displays itself as that which is seized by the eye (of men),
her true nature constantly remains elusive. This elusiveness is essential to
her being, yet her beauty is rendered superficial. With Pandora, appearance
can n o longer be a simple expr ession of inner na ture; beauty i s s evered
from th e good. In oth er w ords, Pandora’s ev il i s ti ed t o a n ew stru cture
of meaning that she introduces into the world of men. Pandora hides b y
showing. Her appearance is a form of concealment.
This study is an attempt to decipher the enigmatic image of Pandora and
to do so b y framing the riddle of her femininity in a n ew way. Our starting
point is the understanding that ancient conceptions of femininity do n ot
provide a su fficient context for in terpreting the unsettling portrait of the
first woman. Furthermore, the key to Pandora is to be found not in the Hes-
iodic image its elf, but rather in its tr ansformations and variations, in the
refractions of Pandora’s image w ithin the liter ary di scourse of antiquity.
Pandora’s Senses traces the profound impact of Hesiod’s Pandora on the his-
tory of literature by deciphering the significance of this myth for interro-
gating the meeting point of gender and textuality in antiquity. Uncovering
the strong connection existing in an tiquity between images of femininity
and different forms of poetics, the book argues that the fascinating figure
of Pandora g rounds th e var ious ancient conceptions of the liter ary text.
For the important work done at the intersection of feminism and clas-
sical studies, Pandora is a c lear symptom of ancient misogynist culture.15
Feminist sch olars ten d t o think of the H esiodic P andora as a blig ht: a
painful reminder of the feminine condition in an tiquity. Pandora’s Senses
takes a different route. While clearly building on this feminist groundwork,
it articulates a new framework for studying the prototypical character of the
first woman. Pandora’s Senses moves beyond a feminist critique of mascu-
line hegemony, and does so in the first place by challenging the reading of
Pandora as an embodimen t of the misogynist vision of the feminine. The
first original contribution of this study is the manner in which it liber ates
the myth of Pandora from the fetters of a critical focus on its misogynism.
As suggested, the figure of Pandora, as it appears in H esiodic poetr y,
is often associ ated w ith tr aits tr aditionally denig rated as feminin e: a
Introduction
My first two chapters are dedicated to the Hesiodic Pandora. These chap-
ters ana lyze th e tw o v ersions of the m yth as th ey appear in Theogony
and Works and Da ys, aiming to uncover the manner in which P andora’s
feminine tr aits s erve H esiod in stru cturing th e gen eric char acter of his
poetics.
Chapter explores the v isual sig nificance of the feminine for th e cos-
mological epic. Pandora is not simply an object in th e world, a beautiful
thing in a g iven v isual field. She i s ma de t o be s een, and h er iden tity i s
thus defined by her beholders. At the same time, she is the very force that
structures th e field of the v isual. Her bea uty stimula tes th e first v isual
experience that men ha ve. In f act, she initiates men’s capacity as beh old-
ers. The appear ance of the first w oman th us marks a turning poin t in
human consciousness. The shocking effect of her sig ht r eleases mankind
from its unr eflecting existence in the world, opening up the possibility of
a standing vis-à-vis the world and allowing humanity to differentiate itself
from the universe. As I argu e, Pandora’s ultimate g ift to humanity i s the
gift of wonder. And in Theogony she serves as th e modus operandi for the
cosmological meditation.
The textua l significance of Pandora li es in th e way she grounds a n ew
kind of gaze, one that is equally necessary for r eading a cosmogony. Here
the meaning of her beauty is fundamental, since it i s precisely her beauty
that enlivens w ith r adiance the murky an d dark beg inning of the world.
Her central role is evident. As a miniature manifestation of the world, she
helps to establish its aesthetic dimension. Pandora is the medium through
which men can per ceive the conglomeration of divine, natural, and con-
ceptual elemen ts as c onstituting th e par ts of one wh ole: the uni verse.
Concomitantly, the focalizing force of her image is also significant for per-
ceiving Theogony as a wh ole. Pandora’s image pr ovides a v isualized an d
Introduction
Pandora’s Light
Pandora’s Light
The eidolon [i.e., image] as a seductive objet d’art cannot be separated from
the generic image of the feminine. For the “real” woman could be de fined
as a “real” eidolon, created as su ch fr om th e beg inning in th e person of
the first woman, Pandora. . . . Pandora is from the outset, in Hesiod’s text
of the Theogony, a fictive object, a c opy, not an or iginal. Fashioned a t th e
orders of Zeus as puni shment for P rometheus’s deceptive theft of celestial
fire for men, the fema le i s the first imit ation and the living counterpart to
that original deception.14
brought about the separation between Gaia and Uranos as well as the de-
sired birth of the Titans. Uranos’s sexual organs were thrown into the sea,
where Aphrodite was born from the mixture of sea foam (aphros) and the
god’s seed. She is, consequently, of divine descent, but not at all a conven-
tional one.
[But the sexual organs, when Kronos first cut th em off with his steel
and threw them from the mainland into the stormy sea—
for a long time th ey drifted on th e sea, and white foam
started circling around the immortal flesh. And in it a y oung woman
began to grow. First she came t o sacred Kythereia,
then she reached the sea-washed Kyprus,
and there she stepped out, a respectful and beautiful goddess.
And around her slender feet th e grass grew. And Aphrodite,
the aphros-foam goddess, and the beautifully garlanded Kythereia,
gods and men name h er, because she was born fr om the aphros.
And Kythereia, because she had come to Kythereia.
And Kyprogeneia, because she was born in s ea-washed Kyprus.
Pandora’s Light
And sex-loving Philomeidea, because she appeared from the sexual organs.
Eros accompanied her and beautiful Himeros attended her
when she was born an d as sh e joined the community of the gods.
From the beginning she has thi s sphere of influence and responsibility
over men an d the immortal gods:
maidens’ conversations, smiles, tricks,
sweet delight, and gentle love.]
Aphrodite is the first divine figure to realize the worldly destiny of the
cosmological Er os. She i s th e first among th e gods t o expos e th e w orld
to its o wn erotic structure. Not only i s Eros invoked at Aphrodite’s birth,
but it a lso n ow los es its r emote st atus, being immers ed in th e di vine
appearance of the erotic goddess. Eros’s reappearance in Theogony marks
the midpoin t in th e dev elopment fr om th e er otic c oncept (pr imordial
Eros and its embodiment in th e divine figure of Aphrodite) to the erotic
phenomenon (P andora). In or der t o bec ome a pr oductive an d s ensual
power, Eros needs the persona of Aphrodite. The abstract beauty of Eros
needs t o be r eflected in th e c oncretely bea utiful form of the god dess in
order to emanate through her. Aphrodite is a medium for th e ineffectual
primordial Eros. As a god dess belong ing t o th e r eign of the Oly mpians,
Aphrodite’s divine duty is to specify th e erotic field of experience, mark-
ing it as h er own area of expertise and responsibility. She thus earns h er
divine authority as a personi fication of the primordial Eros, just as Zeus
comes to manifest and represent the heavenly realm (Uranos) and Hades
the underworld (Tartaros). With the distribution of the divine parts of the
world among them, the Olympian gods determine the ethical function of
the primordial cosmic elements, which then, under the Olympic tutelage,
become signifiers of values and of other aspects of human life.
Aphrodite spurs a c oncretization of the w orld an d c ontributes t o its
maturation as a s ensual being . When thi s happens, Eros assumes a n ew
position, losing its indifferent, abstract appearance in r esponse to Aphro-
dite’s divine form. The erotic pr inciple thus becomes integrated into the
feminine doma in of Aphrodite. As w e sha ll s ee, the cr eation of the first
woman w ill br ing to its c onclusion thi s process of associating the erotic
with the feminine. Let us first, however, focus on Eros’s second appearance
and its r elation to Aphrodite. Following her birth, Aphrodite is accompa-
nied by two subordinates, Eros and Himeros.25 By means of an alliteration,
Hesiod presents the two subordinates as a pa ir whose role i s to resonate
and accentuate the meaning of Aphrodite. Being thus duplicated, Eros and
Pandora’s Light
[terpsin te glukeren], and gentle love [philoteta meilichien].” All these seduc-
tive features are characterized by Aphrodite as ess entially feminine. Their
linear order schematizes the outlines of feminine erotic behavior. Female
conversations are centered on s ecret passions. 31 As these passions ar e ex-
changed and exposed, they intensify, inciting a desire to fulfill them. Smiles,
tricks, and delig ht ar e th e meth ods of feminine s eduction. The w oman
communicates her passion through facial gestures (smiles), verbal gestures
(tricks), and a beautiful appearance (sweet delight). This is then followed
by th e final st age of the er otic endeavor, which i s fully a ccomplished b y
soft intercourse (gentle love).
This ph enomenology of gentle er otic c onduct i s r adically s eparated
from the violent and merciless characterization of the primordial Eros. It
thus marks the transition from the abstract Eros that pertains to the aus-
tere cosmic beg inning t o th e feminine embodiment of Eros and its n ew
position in th e cultur ally sublimated world. Although born of the inhu-
manly v iolent a ct of castration, Aphrodite’s gen tle figure obliter ates an y
signs of this brut al or igin. Her feminin e persona pr ovides a di vine pr e-
figuration of human s exuality. More pr ecisely, Aphrodite hands over the
primary responsibility for h uman sexuality to women.
Aphrodite underlines the dependence of the feminine erotic presence on
interpersonal relationships. Feminine sexuality operates within the inter-
personal field, the spa ce cr eated betw een th e on e wh o s ees an d th e on e
who is seen, between the seducer and the seduced. In emphasizing Aphro-
dite’s responsibility for di alogic relationships, Hesiod establishes the con-
nection between femininit y, sexuality, and v isibility. Aphrodite promotes
the feminine figure into a sexual being because she defines feminine erotic
existence through interactions with others: smiling at, seducing, and touch-
ing men. Thus, Aphrodite in troduces s eeing an d being as c onstitutive
elements of sexuality. In other words, she shows that visibility is an indis-
pensable feature of the erotic field.
The c onnection betw een th e er otic an d th e v isible i s impor tant for
understanding cosmic development. The r elationship betw een th e erotic
and the visible was vagu ely alluded to earlier in th e poem in its r eference
to the beauty of primordial Eros. This was only a vagu e allusion because
the pr imordial er otic pr inciple i s formless an d, consequently, invisible.
Only th e bea utiful form of Aphrodite mak es v isibility an aspect of the
erotic and thus marks a n ew stage in th e cosmological development. Her
birth introduces beauty and visibility into the world. Her divine influence
is manifest in making v isibility a par t of life. With her birth, the world is
Pandora’s Light
ready to make the passage from the intangible stage of the cosmos to the
sensual stage of appearances. The divine contribution of Aphrodite to the
sensual aspect i s followed by the appearance of the first woman. Primar-
ily understood as a feminine asset, sexuality assigns women predominance
over the r ealm of phenomena—that is, the visible sphere. Since the femi-
nine, being under the divine influence of its beautiful patroness, Aphrodite,
represents the visible world more than th e masculine does, femininity is,
in fact, the pronunciation of the erotic phenomenon. And so the ultimate
stage of the erotic process that began w ith the invisible force of Eros and
culminated in the maturation of the sensible world is marked by the cre-
ation of the ultimate phenomenon, the first woman.
Although Aphrodite is not directly responsible for Pandora’s creation,32
she is certainly expected to be her patroness, being the goddess of that sex-
uality sh e has c onstructed as ess entially feminin e. While Aphrodite thus
serves as P andora’s r ole model, Pandora’s appear ance i s a r ealization of
the erotic codes established by her divine patroness.33 Shared features show
that, on a semantic level at least, Pandora is a direct descendant of Aphro-
dite.34 Both are young and beautiful feminine figures chiefly characterized
by their sexuality rather than by motherhood. Moreover, Pandora is a nec-
essary extension of Aphrodite beca use, without h er, the god dess cann ot
fulfill her divine responsibility. Together they initiate the genealogy of the
feminine r ace. Each, however, has a di stinct role. One is the patroness of
sexuality an d femininit y. The oth er i s th e a ctual model for a ll w omen,
defining the essence of the feminine existence. Pandora is, in this sense, a
bridge, for sh e continues th e line from th e di vine Aphrodite t o w oman-
kind.35 Her sig nificance i s born of the in tersection betw een femininit y,
sexuality, and v isibility, this being th e par adigmatic feminin e ph enome-
non. Pandora appears as th e final link in th e er otic dev elopment of the
cosmos, which begins with the primordial erotic principle and continues
with its c oncretization in th e divine Aphrodite. Pandora brings the erotic
genealogy to its culmina tion, providing a human embodiment of Aphro-
dite. Following in th e footsteps of her di vine pa troness, she mak es h er
contribution to the matu ration of the phenomenological world.
This signal contribution by Pandora to the cosmic order is not openly
acknowledged b y th e text of Theogony. On th e c ontrary, Hesiod mak es
an effort to prove the opposite—namely, that Pandora is a sign of human
degeneration. Moreover, although th e log ic of erotic dev elopment sug-
gests that her creation should immediately follow the birth of Aphrodite,
Hesiod ch ooses instea d t o ins ert th e Pandora epi sode in a la ter st age of
Pandora’s Light
fire that is their source of light and warmth, leading Prometheus to steal
a flaming g rain fr om th e hid den fire an d br ing it ba ck t o th em. Zeus,
enraged, immediately responds by creating the first woman.36
At this point, Hesiod intensifies his poetic st yle. The description of the
Pandora figure diverges from his earlier descriptions—the static, detached
portrayal of Eros or the solemn account of Aphrodite. The new and strik-
ing embodiment of Eros in th e human r ealm inspir es a subjecti ve form
of expression. More t o th e poin t, the pass age follo wing P andora’s cr ea-
tion (–) signals a disruption in Hesiod’s austere, condensed style. The
language bec omes emotiona l and excited ( –). Clearly, the det ailed
construction of the er otic field as par t of this n ew fema le figure i s n o
longer detached from the narrator’s own life exper ience. Indeed, this ten-
der maiden, newly introduced to the world, causes the narrator to embark
upon a bitter lamentation about the miserable condition of humanity. The
Pandora epi sode consequently consists of two par ts, which w e w ill con-
sider separately: the making of Pandora and the responses to her creation.
“At once, in return for th e fire, he produced an ev il thing for h uman-
kind,” the narrator ominously remarks (). Nevertheless, the succeeding
depiction of Pandora’s creation (–) does not elaborate on the mean-
ing of the afor ementioned ev il. In f act, this pass age, which r ecounts th e
creation of the female, makes no connection between the newly fabricated
female image and its di sastrous implications for the world of men. As we
shall s ee, Hesiod’s mi sogynist r emark fun ctions as par t of a rh etorical
strategy, catching th e r eader b y sur prise. In its elf, the di vine cr eation of
the beautiful ma iden does n ot r eveal th e tr agedy th e author has a lready
inscribed for th e ma le r eader’s life. The depiction of her cr eation lea ves
open the question of the origin of evil, making those who respond to her
image (including the readers) responsible for resolving it. In other words,
the image of Pandora its elf is blameless. Rather, it i s th e in terpretations
of and r esponses t o thi s inn ocent image tha t charge it w ith ev il. Tradi-
tional mi sogyny i s c onsequently r eproduced an ew ea ch time b y r eaders
who in terpret th e bea utiful image of the first w oman as a har binger of
evil. We n eed t o ask ours elves, then, why r esponses t o th e first fema le
image assigned it such evil connotations. We need also to inquire into the
meaning of the term “evil” (kakon) intended by the text. Here is the first
part of the Pandora episode:
This pass age depicts n ot only th e cr eation of the first w oman, but th e
creation of the first work of art as w ell. The presentation of the image t o
the public weds the two actions of seeing and condemning. How does this
happen exactly? Does th e r esponse mean tha t beauty, simply by appear-
ing, must a llure, seduce, and di vert us fr om goodn ess? Does thi s text
advance a conception of sinful beauty? We will postpone this question for
now. Instead, we notice that Hesiod identifies seeing with foreseeing. Gods
and men both look a t something c ompletely new, grasping it (as i s char-
acteristic of this proleptic text) as a sig n of what is not yet there. That is,
they see what they see as if they were already in the future. Before further
examining the spectator’s mode of seeing, let us briefly attend to the nar-
rator’s entangled perspective:
[For from her comes the r ace of women and fema les. From her comes the
destructive r ace, the tribes of women, a great ca lamity to mor tals; they do
not dwell with men as companions in times of cursed poverty, but in plenty.
As in vaulted hives bees feed th eir drones, partners in ev il things—the bees
work hard all day long from dawn to setting sun and lay down white combs,
while the drones st ay in th e sheltered hives and collect the labor of others
for their own bellies—even so Zeus th undering on hig h created women as
an evil for mor tal men, doers of grievous works. And he gave another evil,
as the pr ice of good: whoever, avoiding mar riage and the troubles women
cause, does not marry, he reaches deadly old age w ithout anyone to care for
him, and though he does not lack means while h e lives, his kinsmen di vide
up his property when he dies. But for him wh ose lot i s marriage, and who
has a dutiful w ife suited t o his ways, evil ceaselessly fights with good in hi s
life; if he should get pestilent children, the grief in his heart and soul is un-
remitting throughout life: this evil has n o cure.]
P’ W
One of the more conspicuous elements in th e Pandora episode is the re-
current use of thauma, “wonder.” The term appears first in the section that
describes the creation of the first woman and then reappears in th e pas-
sage that focuses on th e audience’s response to her:
[There dark ear th and gloomy Tartaros, barren sea and starry sky, all have
their r oots and f arthest edges, side b y side in or der. It i s a g loomy r egion
that even gods abh or.]
Pandora i s the first object t o impr ess upon th e human mind the under-
standing that what it perceives is the world of phenomena. This is the con-
text for recalling that Pandora is characterized as a substitute for fire ().
Interpreters who are guided b y the ancient notion of female insatiability
conceive of her as a symbol of women’s unquenchable passion.45 Yet while
fire signifies heat, the primary symbolic sense it conjures is light.46 In fact,
one of the distinctive features of the feminine image is its radiance. Given
that th e appear ance of the uni verse in Theogony is ge nerally m urky and
dark, the feminine provides a moment of illumination, of enlightenment.
Pandora pours for th str eams of light that ar e der ived from two sources.
The first i s the fire that melted gold an d silver into her shiny finery. The
second is the divine charm breathed into her, which grants her visibility.47
And sin ce h er figure gi ves o ff light, the gods an d men n earby n ot only
behold h er, but a lso s ee b y h er th e w orld. In thi s s ense, the cr eation of
Pandora i s an etiolog ical myth addressing the or igin of seeing. It can be
regarded as a foundational myth for the kind of scientific inquiry into the
mechanism of seeing envisaged in Timaeus, where the “fiery e ye” theory
of vision is formulated. Plato explains that the mechanism of seeing con-
sists in a c oalescence of the external fire of daylight with the internal fire
of the eye (Tim. b–a). Although we cannot assume tha t Hesiod sub-
scribed to even a pr imitive version of the theory of vision, the mythical
encounter of the human eye with the glimmering appearance of Pandora
nevertheless provides a met aphorical space for th e sci entific ar ticulation
of vision.
Pandora’s r adiant appear ance i s, as th e text tells us mor e than on ce,
thauma idesthai, “a w onder t o s ee.”48 She i s a sour ce of wonder, and w e
cannot help but think of the place assig ned to wonder by another tr adi-
tion—namely, philosophy. Philosophy has its or igin, as the Greeks saw it,
in wonder. Aristotle, following his teacher Plato, observed that philosophy
began w ith wonder (Metaph. A, b–). Wonder i s the feeling, or the
mood, or the kind of experience that presents the world to us in a mann er
calling for our r eflection. At the same time, this is a r eflection that is not
governed by rationality. “This sense of wonder is the mark of the philoso-
pher,” Socrates explains to the young Theaetetus. “Philosophy indeed has
no oth er or igin” (Tht. d).49 Wonder, moreover, seems t o be in trinsi-
cally tied to and powerfully present in th e realm of the visible. “Philoso-
phy indeed has n o other or igin,” Socrates continues, “and he was a good
genealogist wh o ma de I ris th e da ughter of Thaumas” (d). Thaumas,
Pandora’s Light
the di vine figure of wonder, is th e f ather of Iris. And so , for Pla to, Iris,
the v ision of the r ainbow, is th e embodimen t of wonder in th e doma in
of the visual. The rainbow is a na tural phenomenon that not only str ikes
the eye with its bea uty but ca lls for an explana tion as w ell. And yet even
when an explana tion i s a t hand and w e understand h ow th e r ainbow i s
created, there r emains a s ense of wonder, of the un explainable. Wonder
is th e appear ance of a w orld wh ose m ystery cann ot be r educed t o our
(human) understanding.
Under thi s philosophica l sig n of wonder w e can r eturn t o Theogony,
which presents several instances of wonder, among which the example of
Pandora is the most conspicuous. In what way does the wonder of Pandora
foreshadow the origin of philosophy? That i s to s ay, in what way i s Pan-
dora’s wonder a sour ce of reflection? Thi s i s an oppor tunity to examine
the interconnections between the cases of wonder presented in Theogony.
Around her head she put a golden cr own that the famous lame god elabo-
rately made himself with his own hands to please his father Zeus. On it h e
lavished many carefully wrought things, wonderful to see: Terrible wild crea-
tures r eared up on lan d or s ea, wonderful thing s, like li ving beings w ith
voices, and upon a ll of them he breathed charm. (Th. –, my emphasis)
carries a di vine aura in ways that are distinct from the ways in which sh e
resembles a beast. According to the description in Theogony, she does not
look lik e an anima l an d exhibits n o anima l-like q ualities. The besti al
aspect is limited to the adornment on her diadem. The animal decoration
does not qualify her persona; it sy mbolizes, rather, another figure, exter-
nal t o Pandora, an inversion of Pandora. Rather than r eflecting h er, her
diadem pr efigures h er in version: the monstr ous Typhoeus. The anima l
representation on th e diadem, I would argue, is a c ondensed reference to
the figure of Typhoeus.
The monstrous Typhoeus, about whom we hear in th e s econd par t of
Theogony, is the last creature born to Gaia, through a union with Tartaros.
This last bir th has been un derstood as r epresenting Gaia’s final and un-
successful attempt to challenge Zeus’s authority. The diadem is a manifold
thing, portraying a di verse ga llery of beasts wh ose li veliness i s a chieved
by their vocal verisimilitude. Analogously, Typhoeus’s monstrosity lies in
its multifarious visual and sonorous manifestation. It exhibits a h undred
snakeheads w ith ter rifying fiery t ongues an d e yes. But th e crux of its
savageness is found in its multiplicity of voices. This creature is able simul-
taneously to utter every sound. The divergence of the voices it so mimet-
ically pronounces gives the creature its multif arious visual verisimilitude.
Typhoeus challenges Zeus by virtue of the great power embodied in its
deadly g lowing t ongues an d in th e spark of its e yes. The monster ’s fire
represents a h eathen antithesis to Zeus’s lightning. Moreover, it threatens
Zeus’s rule beca use it c onspires aga inst th e uni vocal v oice char acteristic
of Zeus’s institutionalized order. The poet mak es it c lear that Typhoeus’s
polyphony i s danger ous wh en h e r efers t o its o verwhelming e ffect: a
wonder to hear (thaumat’ akousai, .) In f act, he has a lready identified
this danger ear lier in hi s text wh en descr ibing Hephaestus’s work of art.
For Pandora’s di adem i s a v isual c ommemoration, encoded in th e v ivid
portrayal of the anima ls, of Zeus’s subjuga tion of Typhoeus’s stunning
voice. The di adem r epresents th e momen t wh en th e sub versive besti al
voices are silenced by Zeus’s overwhelming power, the power of visibility.
In thi s wa y, Pandora’s di adem sublima tes Typhoeus’s v ocal monstr osity
by sub verting it in to a charming sig ht. The r epression of the danger ous
voices i s c omplete on ce th e e ffect inscr ibed b y th e idiom “a won der to
hear,” thaumat’ akousai () is abandoned in f avor of the visual effect, “a
wonder to see,” thauma idesthai () and thaumasia ().50
Pandora’s di adem tr ansforms voice into a v isual icon. As such, it pr e-
figures Zeus’s defeat of Typhoeus. At the same time, its resplendent figures
Pandora’s Light
are testimony to the new status the monstrous voice has acquired through
the ekphrasis: a dead, or silent, voice is made visible by divine artisanship
and th en b y poetr y. Pandora’s splen dor r efers th e spect ator t o an other
sema, to be interpreted analogously to the stone sema established by Zeus
as a memor ial in Delphi. The stone, originally served to Kronos as a sub-
stitute for bab y Zeus an d th en v omited up fr om K ronos’s dark en trails,
was granted the glorious appearance of thauma by Zeus ().51 Pandora’s
illuminating power r esides, therefore, in her capacity to elucidate mean-
ings buried deep w ithin the cosmic beginning.52
encounter with the Muses. It seems to me, therefore, that theeton qualifies
not the laurel branch specifically, but the initiation scene more generally.
In oth er w ords, the w ondrous en compasses th e wh ole en counter w ith
the Muses, beginning as Hesiod’s herd is pasturing at the foot of Helicon,
continuing as th e M uses in troduce th emselves t o him, and c oncluding
with hi s initi ation w ith th e la urel br anch ( –). The wh ole ev ent i s a
wonder to behold.
When on e r eads th e poem fr om th e beg inning, this appear ance i s
indeed celebrated dr amatically. Hesiod descr ibes the divine performance
of the Muses as th ey sing an d dance, assigning precedence to their beau-
tiful v oices; the Muses can be h eard but cann ot be s een. As th e pr eface
states, they perform in th e dark of the night. The poet, however, does not
focus on scan t, faint, dim figures bar ely v isible in th e g loom. He r ather
accentuates the murkiness of the nocturnal scene, describing the Muses as
hidden in a thick c loud (Th. ), an epic formula tion for s aying they were
invisible.54
Theogony begins in a st ate of total darkness, murkiness, and invisibil-
ity. Not only i s the beginning dark: its general outlook upon th e world is
no less g loomy. Life is lived in th e dimness of night. But the night is also
characterized b y v itality, for thi s i s wh en di vine poetr y i s t o be h eard,
indicative of the in tangible pr esence of the gods, and wh en sh epherds
like Hesiod pasture their herds. Night—which plays a most important role
within the cosmogony as the parent of all hidden thoughts, intentions, and
passions, as well as death, sleep, and dreams—dominates human life (Th.
–). Hesiod’s poem insistently portrays darkness as the regulative prin-
ciple go verning th e w orld. Light, brought b y its di vine sig nifier, Zeus,
and by the Muses, is the sign of irregular events. In Greek mythology, the
gaze of gods upon h umanity i s a sour ce of light. For poets lik e H esiod,
the en counter w ith th e M uses i s th erefore a w onder t o s ee. It marks a
transformative moment when the poet i s granted illumination. Through
this encounter with the Muses, the poet c eases to be an ig norant inhabi-
tant of caliginous darkness, occupied pr imarily w ith the appetites of his
belly. Their radiant presence allows him to see, even if for just a moment,
beyond hi s dr eary exi stence. This i s n ot b y an y means a met aphysical
moment. It is not the kind of enlightenment that issues from the wonder-
ful (thaumaston), sudden vision that Diotima associates with the epiphany
of the tr anscendental world (Symp. e–). This i s, rather, a lightning-
brief clarification of what there i s, a sudden illumination of what i s reg-
ularly kept in th e dark.
Pandora’s Light
In th e beg inning th ere w ere only men. Then came th e first w oman and
disrupted th e s elf-sameness tha t g rounded th e harmonious c ondition of
humanity.1 Pandora appears in the world and immediately takes the form
of the ultima te Oth er. But th e f act tha t sh e bears th e mark of otherness
is due not only to her femininity or to her sexuality as such. Pandora is a
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
The Muses know how to sing th e truth, and at times th ey may actualize
this kn owledge. More c ommonly, however, and mor e a ccessibly t o th e
human mind, they tell li es. These li es ar e perceived by the human audi-
ence as truth, a f act tha t does n ot mak e th em any less un truthful. They
remain li es because their r elationship to truth i s bas ed on di stortion, or
alteration. “The Muses,” Pucci w rites, “are th e only sour ce of truth, and
since th e poet w ill for ever be unable t o c ompare th eir song w ith ‘the
things as th ey are,’ he cannot be aware of the distortions, deflections, and
inventions that draw the poetic di scourse into falsehood and fiction.”10
To un derstand th e M uses’ phrase “lies similar [or iden tical] t o tru e
things,” the term homoia is crucial. Pucci’s tr anslation leaves the deliber-
ation between “similar” and “identical” unresolved. This double s ense of
homoia is also impor tant for un derstanding the ambiguity of the Muses’
song. They know that their song is identical to true things (“we know how
to sing the truth”), but they also know how to sing it in a wa y that would
appear t o H esiod t o be similar t o tru e things. In oth er w ords, Hesiod
refers to two poetical options associated with the Muses: a kind of poetry
in which truth i s tr anscribed, and a poetica l mode tha t is similar t o, but
nevertheless r emains di stinct fr om, truth. Inspired b y Der rida’s w ork,
Pucci ascr ibes t o H esiod th e beli ef that th e or iginal truth (t o which th e
Muses’ song r efers) i s for ever abs ent, remaining ina ccessible for h uman
imitation.11
Pucci’s ana lysis of the en counter betw een H esiod an d th e M uses i s
guided by both Platonic and postmodern r eadings of Hesiod. Plato’s the-
ory of mimesis, on th e one hand, and Der rida’s notion of différance, on
the other, enable Pucci to argue that Hesiod does not accept the traditional
polarity betw een truth an d f alsehood. Pucci per ceives th e encounter be-
tween th e M uses an d H esiod as th e site wh ere th e opposition betw een
truth an d f alsehood c ollapses. Since truth i s for ever lost, all w e can s ay
about the pr evaricating nature of human mimesi s i s that it i s a w ork of
simulation. And in this sense Pucci reads Theogony in a manner that fore-
shadows the postmodern idea of the absence and inaccessibility of truth.
What in m y v iew r emains unn oticed in P ucci’s in terpretation i s a di s-
tinction central to Hesiod’s poetry. That is, Theogony is a text tha t makes
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
to h uman poetr y, which appr oaches th e subject of the di vine gen ealogy
from a h uman perspecti ve, divine poetr y r eflects th e di vine exper ience
of time, one that is unattainable to humanity. In divine poetr y, the pres-
ent i s th e most sig nificant of the thr ee dimensions of time—not only
because th e pr esent pr ovides an insig ht in to th e meaning of being, but
also because divine beings live in a tempor al continuance, an unchanging
present. This harmonious ly c ontinuous form of temporality r eflects th e
idea of eternal time.
Unbound by human temporal constraints, divine poetry is lighter than
human poetry: “They [the Muses] delight [terpousai] the mighty mind of
father Zeus ” (Th. ). Divine poetr y i s id entified w ith jo y, pleasure, and
delight, which correspond to the superiority of the gods (cf. , , , and
). The emotional force of human poetry, in contrast, has an ambiguous
form, creating an o xymoron of painful jo y. More speci fically, human
poetry pla ys out in th e spa ce betw een ga in an d loss. It g ives an d t akes
concomitantly. It can assuage an d change th e spir it, temporarily r emov-
ing pain and grief. It is simultaneously a reminder (of a remote past) and
a suppressor (of an impoverished present). Human poetry creates painful
joy because its capa city to cause forgetfulness does n ot cause pain to dis-
appear. Pain is merely bracketed, or hidden in th e depth of memory rep-
resented by Mnemosyne, the Muses’ mother, who i s the maternal source
of the poem (–).
Hesiod i s w ell a ware of the infer iority of his poetica l deli verance in
comparison w ith the Muses’ divine ar t. He emphasi zes the f ailure of his
inspired poetr y to reach the superior level of divine poetr y in hi s recur-
rent a ttempts (thr ee in a ll) t o captur e th e la tter’s perfection. Theogony
describes thr ee ev ents in which th e pur e song of the Muses i s deli vered
to the gods. In the first scene (–), the Muses sing and dance on Mount
Helicon. In the second (–), they sing in Zeus’s abode on Mount Olym-
pus. The final scene (–) occurs on th eir way from Pieria, their birth-
place, to M ount Oly mpus. These thr ee oc casions ar e s et apar t fr om th e
composition of Theogony as a whole because the cosmological poem is an
example of inspired poetr y medi ated by a h uman poet ( Th. –). On
all three occasions the Muses’ intended audience i s exclusively divine. As
a consequence, the content of their last two songs i s only br iefly sketched
by Hesiod. This absence might have led us to accept the general notion of
the inaccessibility of the Muses’ true poetry, except that, through Hesiod,
we become witnesses to their song on Mount Helicon (–) and are thus
granted partial access.
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
Muses’ poetic power. The young Hesiod wanted his poem to be similar to
the Muses’ song.
Works and Da ys expresses a di fferent poetic fr ame of mind. Here Hes-
iod gives up on the goal of sameness and even becomes disillusioned with
his ear lier poetic ambition. He s eems to r evise the meaning of homoios,
which n ow c onnotes a t otally una ttainable iden tity. Hesiod n o longer
contends that his poetry can achieve even an apparent identity with divine
poetry. He wants it t o contain di vine va lues su ch as justic e, but h e does
not think of it as similar t o a di vine utter ance. Works and Da ys interior-
izes the essential difference between divine and human utterances.
As an epic, Works and Da ys stands in c ontrast to Hesiod’s ear lier cos-
mological poem in tha t it car ries c lear pr agmatic and ethica l goa ls. The
poem i s addressed to a speci fic, nonexpert audience whom Hesiod s eeks
to teach how to cultivate the land. His didactic program i s guided b y an
ethical view that equates knowledge of farming with the quest for a good
and just life. We ar e n ot dea ling h ere w ith a guide t o better f arming so
much as w ith a w ork whose focus i s the educational process itself. What
occupies the center of Works and Days is the dynamic relationship between
the poet and his student, a relationship that serves as an ethica l prism for
understanding the world of farming. In contrast to Theogony, Works and
Days is immers ed in th e soci al an d cultur al dimensions of human life,
and its poetics i s governed by the principle of otherness. Hence, in com-
parison w ith Theogony, Hesiod dev elops th e a utonomy of, and g rants
autobiographical depth to, the figures of poet and listener. The poetics of
didactic poetry is grounded, as we shall now see, on the difference between
these two figures.
As we have already noticed, Hesiod’s revision of the myth of sameness
begins with his relationship with the Muses. In Works and Days he severs
the composition of his poetry from their tutelage.14 Works and Days differs
from Theogony in that it i s pr esented as H esiod’s own cr eation. It i s not
inspired poetr y. Nor i s it a kin d of poetry that der ives dir ectly from the
Muses’ original voice. Rather, Hesiod’s didactic epic establishes clear distinc-
tions between the divine and human realms. As human discourse, Works
and Days emphasizes the author’s presence by means of didactic and auto-
biographical elemen ts. The ma in n ovelty of Hesiod’s dida ctic epic i s its
abandonment of an externa l di vine pr ovenance in f avor of the a uthor’s
personal an d mor al exper ience. Hesiod marks hi s poetica l speech w ith
his o wn sig nature. He emphasi zes hi s fears an d beli efs an d a dds bits of
biography and personality, thereby creating a form of poetics that is based
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
[And if you wish, I will outline for y ou another story (heteron logon),
Well and skillfully st ore it up in y our mind.]
The story Hesiod refers to is the myth of the Five Ages. He presents it here
as heteron logon, another tale, a different version. It is his second attempt
to describe the power of Zeus over human affairs. His first logos was the
myth of Pandora ( W&D –). These tw o su ccessive m yths shar e an
interest in exploring the meaning of the present through a pivotal event—
the cr eation of Pandora or th e demi se of the Golden Age. Both ev ents
explain the significance of the present time on the basis of the past, which
serves to highlight the present and make it perceptible. By focusing on the
present h uman c ondition, Hesiod on ce aga in c onfines hi s poetr y t o th e
human domain.16
The theme of the fall, the end of the blissful condition of humanity, is
told first in th e myth of Pandora and then again in th e myth of the Five
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
Ages. Both m yths, thus, present a pr istine per iod wh en “from th e s ame
source [ homothen], gods and mor tals came in to being” (W&D ). But
Hesiod’s strategy of providing two versions of the same story raises ques-
tions about their validity and, more particularly, about their shared argu-
ment. Using two versions destabilizes the notion of identity and reinforces
the f antastical, skeptical, and eph emeral dimension of human poetr y.
Whereas th e depiction of the Golden Age c elebrates th e in tercourse be-
tween gods an d men, the follo wing s ection—on th e en d of that age—
reverses course and is devoted to disillusionment:
[Next after th ese the dwellers upon Oly mpus cr eated a s econd generation,
of silver, far worse than the other. They were not like the golden ones either
in shape or spir it.—Trans. Richmond Lattimore]
the gods. 18 The myth of the Golden Age is therefore not about a lost per-
fect human condition, but about th e human mi sconception of its divine
identity.
The identification of gods and humans is an old dr eam: the radicalism
of Works and Da ys is to be foun d in its a ttempt to delimit tha t dream to
the una ttainable m ythic r ealm. Hesiod r efers t o s ameness as a f antastic
phenomenon confined to the Golden Age. In succeeding ages, as we shall
see, the possibility of sameness cannot even be an object of fantasy. In addi-
tion, the inherent asymmetry between humans and gods a ffects relation-
ships between humans as well. When the Golden Age is lost, dissimilarity
increases: humans come to be not only dissimilar to the gods (as they were
in the Golden Age), but a lso to one another. The loss of the Golden Age
consequently represents the impossibility of maintaining a r ange of inti-
mate affiliations, communalities, and solidarities. But how did the fantas-
tic identification of gods and men come into being, and how do Theogony
and Works and Da ys reflect Hesiod’s attitude toward that fantasy?
The genealogy of the gods pr esented in Theogony does not include the
origins of the human species. Theogony does not make a place for men in
the genealogical map of the gods. It would appear, then, that the account
of a shared origin is a product of wishful thinking, expressed in the form
of human needs, ambitions, and desires. More specifically, the human fan-
tasy of being iden tical t o th e gods i s ins eparable fr om th e aspir ation t o
make human existence an integral part of the world. By fantasizing about
its di vine or igins, humanity c laims poss ession o ver th e w orld. Indeed,
Hesiod’s theological discourse does not posit an acute dichotomy between
the gods an d th e w orld. The gen ealogy of the gods tha t i s r ecounted in
Theogony is also an account of the development of the cosmos in general.
Theogony conceives of the gods as w orldly elemen ts an d th e w orld as a
manifestation of their divine realm. When reading Works and Days in light
of Theogony, one cannot help but s ee that Hesiod has r evised his previous
account of the relationship between men and the world. He separates gods
and men, which entails the latter’s expulsion from an imma ture image of
the world. Men ar e no longer a llowed to perceive themselves as in tegral
to the world. But humanity failed to internalize this separation—accord-
ing to Hesiod, men ig nore it beca use they t ake humanity’s poss ession of
the w orld for g ranted.19 The or igins of this a ttitude t oward th e w orld
are to be found in the primal human condition as descr ibed in Theogony.
In that cosmological poem, men lack a perspecti ve on th e world and are
blind t o its a utonomous appear ance. In Works and Da ys this p erceptual
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
[Strong of hand, one man ( heteros) shall seek the city of another (heterou).
No man who keeps his oath would be ca lled charismatic, nor the righteous
or the good man. Rather they shall respect the violence of the evildoer. Right
will be in th e arm. Shame w ill not be. The v ile man w ill crowd hi s better
out and attack him with twisted accusation and swear an oath to his story.—
Adapted from Lattimore translation]
Absent from this description of the Iron Age is any reference to the nat-
ural elements of the physical world. Whereas the account of the Golden
Age mentions the grain-giving land (zeidoros aroura, W&D ), later allu-
sions to the natural elements refer to materials—silver, bronze, and iron—
only outside their natural setting, emphasizing instead their new artificial
function, their service to humanity. As each generation successively discov-
ers these elements, they become mer e tools in men ’s hands. And so th ey
come to represent human desires and ambitions (power and wealth). That
is how the world’s elements have come to be identified as human qualities.
Hesiod tells of the r esult of humanity’s active ig norance of the w orld
in th e I ron Age in hi s descr iption of its ur ban lan dscape an d char acter.
We now have a w orld of cities: “One man [ heteros] sha ll s eek the cit y of
another [heterou].” Men conceive of the world as an en tity that provides
a place for cr eating their own communities. Once these communities are
established in th e form of cities, they are made into human places. They
rarely bear th e signs of their original natural character. These communi-
ties divide the world and create new methods of living that culminate in
war and other forms of aggression. Life in the cities thus encourages hos-
tile relationships between different peoples, just as it accentuates the differ-
ences among men. Heteros does not simply distinguish one party from the
other. It raises the idea that there is no place in the Iron Age for harmoni-
ous and equal groups.
Men dev elop a mir ror r elationship v is-à-vis th e w orld: they s ee in it
a reflection of themselves, while their behavior in turn a ffects the world.
Following thi s interpretation, the pass ages concerning the Silver, Bronze,
and Iron Ages disclose a tight-fisted world that is no longer identified with
the benevolent and generous image of Mother Earth, as in the Golden Age,
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
but, rather, reflects a v iolent an d sting y f ather. Since th e w orld mir rors
the human condition, it comes to appear as a fr ightening place full of evil
ambition and dreadful death, a world that i s mi serable and dark, like its
inhabitants.
Hesiod conceives of the Golden Age, and of the Silver, Bronze, and Iron
Ages that follow, as reflecting two misconceptions about the place of man
in th e w orld: a f alse iden tification w ith th e gods, and a f alse iden tifica-
tion with the world. He does n ot endorse a n ostalgic return to a Golden
Age in which men an d gods w ould aga in bec ome iden tical, but n either
does he approve of the tendency to humanize the world. Works and Da ys
offers a dida ctic pr ogram for men t o est ablish an appr opriate pla ce for
themselves in the world. Hesiod is determined to reform the relationship
between men an d th e w orld b y tea ching th e former t o dev elop a s ense
of humility in r elation to both na ture and the gods. In thi s s ense, Works
and Days is dedicated to an un derstanding of a world that i s other than
human. Hesiod wishes to return to a world that is familiar to the farmer.
Familiarity, achieved through sweat and toil, reveals the division between
man and the world and a llows the latter to r eceive the honor it des erves
as man learns its idiosyn cratic ph enomena, functions, and r egularities.
Interestingly, this learning became possible in the most horrible of human
generations, the Iron Age, Hesiod’s generation, when nature was no longer
seen t o be a spon taneous ph enomenon an d an in finite pr ovider ( W&D
). Hesiod consequently teaches men to become aware of their needs and
assume responsibility for their own well-being. The ability to satisfy one’s
own needs depends on a f amiliarity with, a close observation of, nature’s
laws. In order to enjoy the earth’s productivity, in order to keep the fire alive,
men need to acquaint themselves with the order of the natural elements.
Even then, however, Hesiodic knowledge will not make the world an en-
tirely f amiliar pla ce, absolutely on e an d th e s ame w ith men. As H esiod
remarks: “Yet still, the mind of Zeus of the aeg is changes w ith chang ing
occasions, and it is a hard thing for mor tal men to figure” (W&D –,
trans. Lattimore).
In many ways Works and Da ys is a tr agic epic tha t mourns th e loss of
innocence. But what is so tragic about losing something we never had? The
nostalgic v iew of the Golden Age does n ot s eriously encourage a r eturn
to it. In what way, then, is the mythical memory of the coexistence of gods
and men vital to the human experience? Works and Days constructs a com-
plicated notion of this imaginative world. On the one hand, it locates the
realm of the Golden Age within a fantastic framework. On the other hand,
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
The long ing for a Golden Age i s an expr ession of an ess ential abs ence
that i s inh erent in th e human c ondition. (The in terdependence betw een
longing and absence is significant to Plato’s theory of eros, which we will
discuss belo w.) I n Works and Da ys the long ing for a Golden Age r epre-
sents th e abs ence of sameness, or th e pr esence of an appar ent di ssimi-
larity an d a lterity. It i s q uite c lear fr om hi s descr iption of the pr esent
condition of humanity tha t H esiod r egards th e idea of absolute h uman
homogeneity (relative to one another) to be sheer fantasy. A human same-
ness bas ed on iden tical in terests an d a t otal s ense of affinity i s for eign
to th e post–Golden Age w orld. Reconciling w ith th e h uman c ondition
means finding a way to live with alterity. That is why such a considerable
part of Hesiod’s guide t o f arming addresses varieties of human relation-
ships that suffer from differences, whether they involve neighbors, friends,
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
As a rule, myths concerning twin brothers reveal a deep disparity that turns
their apparent similarity into a sig n of the tr agic quality of fraternity. In
the case of Herakles and Iphikles, their mutual maternal (superficial) ori-
gin makes them formally twins, but the inherent difference between divine
and h uman s emen dict ates a di stinctive char acter an d s eparate destin y.
The stories of Herakles and Iphikles, as well as Otos and Ephialtes, Castor
and Pollux, and Remus and Romulus, all involve a h uman mother and a
divine father. The examples are also a testament to the ancient conception
of twins as constituting a tragic hybrid of the divine and the human. Otos
and Ephialtes, the sons of Poseidon and the human Iphimedeia, acciden-
tally kill ea ch oth er. The Diosk ouri, Castor an d P ollux, are s aid in on e
version of their tale to be of mixed origin. Both are the sons of Leda, but
Castor is the son of Leda’s human husband, Tyndareus, whereas Pollux is
the son of Zeus (Pindar, Nem. :–). Although th e immor tal Pollux
persuades Zeus t o grant his mortal brother immortality, the two of them
alternate th eir r esidence on Oly mpus and c onsequently n o longer meet.
Remus and Romulus are the twin sons of Mars and the vestal priestess
Rhea. Despite their similar ity, they develop a g reat hostility and become
political rivals. The element of rivalry and jealousy is also typical of bib-
lical twins such as Cain and Abel and Jacob and Esau. The dissimilarity of
biblical tw ins does n ot involve di vine and h uman f athers; in th e mono-
theistic v ersion, the fr aternal di fference emerges thr ough th e opposition
of the blessed son an d the cursed one.
Whereas the theme of similarity in a tr agic context works through the
difference between divine and human, the comic tradition focuses on the
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
The episode describes a s elf-realization scene: the brothers who were be-
lieved to be one are revealed to be two. The significance of this discovery
is manifest in th e f act tha t th e r evelation of similarity—the r ealization
of the tw ins’ almost iden tical appear ance—is a ctually th e appear ance,
and th e pr oof, of the di fference betw een th em. In oth er w ords, the di s-
covery of the similar ity betw een on e and th e oth er i s on e and th e s ame
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
event as th e discovery of the difference between the two. The slave strug-
gles w ith the common er ror of mistaking both of them for on e and the
same person. The play moves from a false conception of one and the same
person (numerical identity) to a c orrect conception of a perfect similar ity
between two different people. Recognizing the tw ins’ identicalness leads,
at th e s ame time, to a r ecognition of them as tw o di fferent persons. In
fact, the sur prising mess age of this r ecognition sc ene i s n ot th e iden tity
between th e brothers but, rather, their nonidentity despite th eir similar-
ity. The pla y explor es th us th e impossibilit y of perfect iden tity betw een
two personalities. Moreover, it privileges the value of dissimilarity between
the tw in br others. This pr ivileging i s an ess entially ethica l st ance, since
only recognition of their difference allows the twins to meet f ace to face,
to become acquainted with each other, and to learn from each other’s life
experiences.30
dei= de\ prw=ton u(ma=j maqei=n th\n a)nqrwpi/nhn fu/sin kai\ ta\ paqh/mata
au)th=j. h( ga\r pa/lai h(mw=n fu/sij ou)x au(th\ h)=n h(/per nu=n, a)ll' a)lloi/a.
(Symp. d–)
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
[We need first to learn h uman nature and what it has su ffered. Since once
upon a time our na ture was n ot as it i s now, but of another kind.]
The “once upon a time” pattern by which Aristophanes begins his mytho-
poetic speech i s t ypical of a m ythological nar rative. It marks a poin t of
departure in the history of humanity. The Golden Age formula signifies a
drastic transition—a decline—from the fantasy of the perfect human con-
dition that i s t ypical of other Golden Age myths (compare, for inst ance,
the expulsion fr om par adise in th e book of Genesis and th e cr eation of
the first woman in H esiodic poetry).
Aristophanes’ mythopoesis is etiological. Wondering “how we all came
to be what we are today” leads to an examination of the nature of eros. In
other words, the origin of eros can explain our own nature as erotic human
beings. Aristophanes’ rhetorical strategy is to tie eros to human nature by
positing two inseparable questions. Explaining the meaning of eros, then,
tells us what a human being is, and vice versa. According to Aristophanes,
humanity’s or igins were completely di fferent from its pr esent condition.
In contrast to the current division into male and female genders, ancient
humans had three sexes. Each of these three different kinds of human was
a dua l being; that i s, each had a doubled bod y. They were s elf-sufficient,
perfect. However, this human perfection, so char acteristic of the Golden
Age, provoked arrogance, which was ultimately punished by Zeus.31 To r e-
duce the power of humans, Zeus decided that each would be split into two
separate beings. This explains the present state of things, with two sexes,
male an d fema le, but thr ee var ieties of sexuality—two kin ds of homo-
erotic and one heterosexual love, all determined by one’s spherical origins.
Aristophanes does n ot say much about th e state of mind of the spher-
ical creatures. Did they conceive of themselves as one or as a couple? Were
they a di vided or a uni vocal s elf ? I t i s har d t o tell, especially beca use
Aristophanes’ description focus es on th e cr eatures’ physical exper ience.
However, his depiction of their extraordinary physical competence reveals
a perfect c ontrol over bodily gestur es and a singular mo ving force.
e)/peita o(/lon h)=n e(ka/stou tou= a)nqrw/pou to\ ei)=doj stroggu/lon, nw=ton
kai\ pleura\j ku/klw| e)/xon, xei=raj de\ te/ttaraj ei)=xe, kai\ ske/lh ta\ i)/sa
tai=j xersi/n, kai\ pro/swpa du/' e)p' au)xe/ni kukloterei=, o(/moia pa/nth|:
kefalh\n d' e)p' a)mfote/roij toi=j prosw/poij e)nanti/oij keime/noij mi/an,
kai\ w)=ta te/ttara, kai\ ai)doi=a du/o, kai\ ta)=lla pa/nta w(j a)po\ tou/twn
a)/n tij ei)ka/seien. e)poreu/eto de\ kai\ o)rqo\n w(/sper nu=n, o(pote/rwse
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
j r r r , r
boulhqei/h: kai\ o(po/te taxu\ o(rmh/seien qei=n, w(/sper oi( kubistw=ntej kai\
ei)j o)rqo\n ta\ ske/lh perifero/menoi kubistw=si ku/klw|, o)ktw\ to/te ou)=si
toi=j me/lesin a)pereido/menoi taxu\ e)fe/ronto ku/klw|.
(Symp. e–a)
[Again, the form of each human being as a whole was round, with back and
sides forming a cir cle, but it ha d four arms an d an eq ual number of legs,
and two faces exactly alike on a cylindrical neck; there was a sing le head for
both f aces, which f aced in opposite dir ections, and four ears an d tw o s ets
of pudenda, and on e can imag ine a ll th e r est fr om thi s. It a lso tr aveled
upright just as now, in whatever direction it wished; and whenever they took
off in a sw ift run, they brought their legs around straight and somersaulted
as tumblers do , and then, with eight limbs t o suppor t them, they rolled in
a swift circle.—Trans. R. E. Allen]32
Close obs ervation of the ph ysiognomic stru cture of the thr ee sph erical
beings r eveals a dditional ambiguiti es. Two fea tures ar e cru cial t o our
investigation: the two f aces were turned in opposite dir ections, and their
genitals f aced outwar d.33 This means, first, that th ese cr eatures ha d n o
idea what their other face looked like, and, second, that they could not see
the other’s genit als. The latter point i s of special interest for th e androg-
ynous pair, for there was n o s exual difference in th e cas e of the doubled
male spherical creature or the doubled female. Although the androgynous
being exhibited a heterosexual pair of genitals, the male and female halves
could not be aware of their sexual difference, since their eyes could never
fix on th e other’s front.
It i s interesting to note that the androgynous cr eature i s the only on e
of the thr ee m ythical h uman kin ds t o r eveal an y sig n of divergence in
what w ere oth erwise ph ysically iden tical doubled beings. Aristophanes
accentuates the heterogeneous nature of the androgynous genus, the male-
female creature, when he considers the material origins of the three beings.
Whereas th e ma le-male cr eature or iginated in th e sun, and th e fema le-
female creature in th e earth, the androgynous creature was der ived from
the moon, which has a shar e in both th e sun and the earth. Although the
man-woman genus is considered to be the weakest and lowliest of the three
(Symp. d–e), its sexual nature, its heterosexuality, is the most pr eva-
lent kind, more common than th e tw o forms of homoerotic passion. In
other w ords, the h eritage of sexual di fference inh erited fr om th e ma le-
female cr eature, rather than th e s exual s ameness of the ma le-male an d
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
female-female creatures, has become the most typical form of human sex-
uality. Another wa y of saying thi s i s t o obs erve tha t Aristophanes pr ivi-
leges homoerotic eros over heterosexual eros precisely because homoerotic
love retains the memory and fantasy of sameness more than heterosexual
love does.
For Aristophanes it is important to underscore the identity between the
two halves of the primordial human creatures. The theme of identity ex-
tends also to the most idiosyncratic physiognomic element of the human
body, the face. Hence, the two faces of these spherical beings are described
by Aristophanes as homoia pante, “the same in ev ery way” (Symp. a).
This means tha t ea ch of the thr ee sph erical cr eatures ha d tw o iden tical
faces. But were they conscious of this identity? It is most lik ely that they
were not. For, as obs erved above, the location of their doubled f ace pr e-
vented them from engaging in a face-to-face encounter, making it unlikely
that the doubled humans were at all aware of their sameness. In contrast,
awareness of their similarity became possible in th e dramatic recognition
scene that followed their separation. This was th e first time in th e life of
the sph erical cr eatures tha t th ey f aced each oth er and ast onishingly r ec-
ognized th eir ph ysical iden tity. One can s ee tha t th eir ph ysical iden tity
contributed to their s elf-realization as n ew s exual beings, inciting a va in
desire t o merge in to th e oth er and aga in become th e One tha t th ey ha d
once been.
Aristophanes mak es a di stinction betw een th e er otic na tures of the
ancient split beings an d pr esent-day h umans. Unlike our an cestors, we
have n o v isual r ecollection of our lost oth er. We a lso ha ve n o ph ysical
experience of what it means t o be a wh ole made of two separate beings. 34
Lovemaking, as Aristophanes argu es, is an enig matic and r emote r eflec-
tion of the perfect sph erical c ondition tha t has been lost. Nevertheless,
we do search in love for a lost twin. In our life, too, eros still means a long-
ing for a lost ha lf, a desir e to become whole: tou hol ou oun te e pithumia
(Symp. e). It would s eem, then, that to love in th e pr esent context of
human experience is to desire to overcome the inherent difference between
two beings. To put it an other wa y, in a lo ve r elationship w e wan t t o be
accepted an d be r ecognized for wha t w e la ck, and w e w ish tha t la ck t o
be complemented by the other. In thi s s ense, the erotic condition of the
present world acknowledges and legitimates the ineluctable difference that
exists in each coupling. This is not a conventional interpretation, however.
Aristophanes’ myth i s mor e commonly understood to be a ru dimentary
introduction t o r omantic an d met aphysical c onceptions of love.35 It i s
Pandora and th e Myth of Otherness
The Socratic Pandora
but which gen erate a tension tha t i s ess ential t o th e forma tion of the
didactic epic.
These two aspects of the feminine find expression in two traits assigned
to th e figure of Pandora: the dec eptive s educer an d th e v irginal br ide.
While the image of woman as femme fatal e inspires the didactic project,
its mir ror image i s cr itical for r ealizing the ethica l impuls e proposed by
the epic. Whereas Pandora’s seductive force reflects men’s separation from
the Golden Age and their banishment to an a lien world, the figure of the
obedient bride points to the possibility of resolution and a symbolic home-
coming. Hence, as Hesiod promotes the image of the silent and innocent
maiden as a suit able candidate for mar riage, an alternative conception of
the feminine emerges.
As I sha ll sh ow, Works and Da ys issues fr om a tension betw een tw o
poetic forms tha t I descr ibe as a “poetics of marriage” and a “poetics of
eros.”2 These two poetic modes ar e the prototypes of two distinct generic
discourses: the didactic and the philosophical. Described in a mor e sche-
matic f ashion: the dida ctic text oper ates un der th e sig n of the obedi ent
married woman; it pr esupposes a form of readership that fully c onsents
to the text’s authority. The philosophical text, on the other hand, can never
fully r eveal the source of its authority. Nevertheless, it tempts th e r eader
to pursue an unkn own path that holds out a pr omise.
In thi s chapter , the opposition betw een th e dida ctic an d th e philo-
sophical text i s examined through the opposition betw een the poetics of
marriage appear ing in X enophon’s Oeconomicus and th e poetics of eros
appearing in Pla to’s Symposium. Against th e ba ckground of the dida ctic
text, the chapter explores the unique ties between the poetics of the philo-
sophical text and the feminine. My aim is to show that the heritage of the
Hesiodic Pandora is intrinsic to the formation of the philosophical poet-
ics of eros, and in par ticular to the Platonic figure of Socrates.
kai\ ti/ a)/n, e)/fh, w)= Sw/kratej, e)pistame/nhn au)th\n pare/labon, h(\ e)/th me\n
ou)/pw pentekai/deka gegonui=a h)=lqe pro\j e)me/, to\n d' e)/mprosqen xro/non
e)/zh u(po\ pollh=j e)pimelei/aj o(/pwj w(j e)la/xista me\n o)/yoito, e)la/xista
d' a)kou/soito, e)la/xista d' e)/roito; ou) ga\r a)gaphto/n soi dokei= ei)=nai, ei)
mo/non h)=lqen e)pistame/nh e)/ria paralabou=sa i(ma/tion a)podei=cai, kai\
e(wrakui=a w(j e)/rga tala/sia qerapai/naij di/dotai; e)pei\ ta/ ge a)mfi\
gaste/ra, e)/fh, pa/nu kalw=j, w)= Sw/kratej, h)=lqe pepaideume/nh: o(/per
me/giston e)/moige dokei= pai/deuma ei)=nai kai\ a)ndri\ kai\ gunaiki/.
(Xenophon, Oec. .–)
dia\ de\ to\ th\n fu/sin mh\ pro\j pa/nta tau)ta\ a)mfote/rwn eu)= pefuke/nai, dia\
tou=to kai\ de/ontai ma=llon a)llh/lwn kai\ to\ zeu=goj w)felimw/teron
e(autw=| gege/nhtai, a(\ to\ e(/teron e)llei/petai to\ e(/teron duna/menon.
(Oec. .)
According to Hesiod and Xenophon, the joining of male and female means
facing th e ir resolvable di fferences tha t exi st betw een th em. Both w riters
define a su ccessful mar riage as on e that bonds the two s exes around the
ideal of sameness. At the same time, this very aspiration for identity reflects
the reality of sexual difference that governs their union.
Xenophon’s didactic treatise turns the woman into an ideal listener; her
otherness is suppressed. In this sense, the didactic text is imbued with the
violent and oppressive dimension of cultivation—that is, culture. In learn-
ing the ar t of listening, the woman i s forced to sur render her otherness.
The husband’s language, like didactic poetry, entreats the wife to become
more lik e him. It tea ches h er h ow t o embr ace th e h usband’s w orld. We
cannot regard the husband’s language as s eductive.14
w)= gu/nai, mh/te yimuqi/ou mh/te e)gxou/shj xrw/mati h(/desqai ma=llon h)\ tw=|
sw=|, a)ll' w(/sper oi( qeoi\ e)poi/hsan i(/ppoij me\n i(/ppouj, bousi\ de\ bou=j
h(/diston, proba/toij de\ pro/bata, ou(/tw kai\ oi( a)/nqrwpoi a)nqrw/pou
sw=ma kaqaro\n oi)o / ntai h(d/ iston ei)n= ai: ai( d' a)pa/tai au(t
= ai tou\j me\n e)c/ w
pwj du/naint' a)\n a)necele/gktwj e)capata=n, suno/ntaj de\ a)ei\ a)na/gkh
a(li/skesqai, a)\n e)pixeirw=sin e)capata=n a)llh/louj. h)\ ga\r e)c eu)nh=j
a(li/skontai e)canista/menoi pri\n paraskeua/sasqai h)\ u(po\ i(drw=toj
e)le/gxontai h)\ u(po\ dakru/wn basani/zontai h)\ u(po\ loutrou= a)lhqinw=j
katwpteu/qhsan.
(Oec. .)
[I said, “Wife, you must understand that I too do not prefer the color of white
powder and rouge to your own, but just as the gods have made horses most
attractive t o h orses, cattle t o ca ttle, and sh eep t o sh eep, so h uman beings
consider the human body most attractive when it is unadorned. These tricks
might perhaps su cceed in dec eiving str angers w ithout being detected, but
those who spend their whole lives together are bound to be found out if they
try to deceive each other. Either they are found out when they get out of bed
before they have got dressed, or they are detected by a drop of sweat, or con-
victed when they cry, or are revealed as they truly are when they take a bath.”]
The Socratic Pandora
Beauty manifests its elf more easily in th e naked body than in a body en-
cumbered by clothing (contrasting nuda with purpurata). Nudity is, more-
over, identified with mor al conduct. “Nude” implies simplicity and natu-
ralness and high moral standards. As both t ypes of women—the morata,
the w ell-behaved w oman, and th e immor al w oman, morata mal e—are
adorned, the contrast between them i s bas ed on th e di stinction between
internal and externa l kinds of adornments. While the morata is ador ned
from th e inside, the a dornment of the exornata is s een as an in decent
externality, a superfluity and, hence, a superficial addition.22
The Roman morata and the morata male are derivations of Hesiod’s two
images of femininity. These are images of maidens who will soon become
wives. While th e idea l (an onymous) br ide i s nak ed, the dec eitful br ide
(Pandora) appears in a w edding dress.
Another way to say this is to note that Pandora’s evil character is simul-
taneously a source of delight for men, terpsis (). The pleasure she grants
is ambiguous in the same way that Hesiod finds poetry ambiguous.24 This
is first and foremost announced in th e description of Pandora’s creation:
[He ordered far-famed Hephaestos at once to mix ear th with water, and to
put into it human voice and strength, but to give her a f ace like an immor tal
goddess, the charming , lovely shape of a ma iden. And h e t old Athena t o
The Socratic Pandora
teach her women’s work, how to weave the intricate loom. And he told Aphro-
dite to pour golden g race upon h er head and painful desire and cares that
weaken limbs. And he ordered Hermes, the Messenger, Slayer of Argos, to put
into her the mind of a bitch and a treacherous nature. Thus he commanded,
and th ey obe yed Lor d Zeus, son of Kronos. At on ce th e f amed Lame One
molded out of earth the likeness of a modest ma iden as th e son of Kronos
wished, and th e g ray-eyed god dess Athena g irded h er an d dr essed h er.
Around her body the divine Graces and lady Peitho put chains of gold, and
her head the fair-haired Hours wreathed with flowers of spring. And Pallas
Athena fit all manner of adornment to her form. And the Messenger, Slayer
of Argos, into h er h eart put li es and w ily w ords and a tr eacherous na ture
according to the w ill of loud-thundering Zeus. And the herald of the gods
gave her voice, and he named th e woman Pandora, because all of the gods
who live upon Oly mpus gave her a g ift, a sorrow to men wh o eat bread. . . .
But the woman, lifting the great lid of the jar with her hands, scattered them
abroad, and wrought ruinous sorrows for men. Only hope remained within
the jar , in its unbr eakable h ome, under th e r im, and did n ot fly out th e
opening. Before that could happen the lid of the jar stopped her (by the will
of aegis-bearing, cloud-gathering Zeus).—Trans. Jeffrey M. Hurwit]25
the masters of their erotic life. They ar e thrown into the erotic situation
whose modus oper andi is c oncealed, which r emains a s ecret t o th em—a
modus operandi, in other words, that is regulated by woman.
Gunaiko\j de/ pote ou)/shj e)n th=| po/lei kalh=j, h(=| o)/noma h)=n Qeodo/th, kai\
oi(/aj sunei=nai tw=| pei/qonti, mnhsqe/ntoj au)th=j tw=n paro/ntwn tino\j
kai\ ei)po/ntoj o(/ti krei=tton ei)/h lo/gou to\ ka/lloj th=j gunaiko/j, kai\
zwgra/fouj fh/santoj ei)sie/nai pro\j au)th\n a)peikasome/nouj, oi(=j e)kei/nhn
e)pideiknu/ein e(auth=j o(/sa kalw=j e)/xoi, 0Ite/on a)\n ei)/h qeasome/nouj, e)/fh o(
Swkra/thj: ou) ga\r dh\ a)kou/sasi/ ge to\ lo/gou krei=tton e)s / ti katamaqei=n.
kai\ o( dihghsa/menoj, ou)k a)n\ fqa/noit', e)f / h, a)kolouqou=ntej. ou(t
/ w me\n dh\
poreuqe/ntej pro\j th\n Qeodo/thn kai\ katalabo/ntej zwgra/fw| tini\
paresthkui=an e)qea/santo. pausame/nou de\ tou= zwgra/fou, ]W a)/ndrej,
e)/fh o( Swkra/thj, po/teron h(ma=j dei= ma=llon Qeodo/th| xa/rin e)/xein, o(/ti
h(mi=n to\ ka/lloj e(auth=j e)pe/deicen, h)\ tau/thn h(mi=n, o(/ti e)qeasa/meqa; a)r = ' ei)
me\n tau/th| w)felimwte/ra e)sti+\n h( e)pi/deicij, tau/thn h(mi=n xa/rin e(kte/on,
ei) de\ h(mi=n h( qe/a, h(ma=j tau/th|; ei)po/ntoj de/ tinoj o(/ti di/kaia le/goi,
Ou)kou=n, e)f / h, au(t / h me\n h)d/ h te par' h(mw=n e)p
/ ainon kerdai/nei kai/, e)peida\n
ei)j plei/ouj diaggei/lwmen, plei/w w)felh/setai: h(mei=j de\ h)/dh te w(=n
e)qeasa/meqa e)piqumou=men a(/yasqai kai\ a)/pimen u(poknizo/menoi kai\
a)pelqo/ntej poqh/somen. e)k de\ tou/twn ei)ko\j h(ma=j me\n qerapeu/ein, tau/thn
de\ qerapeu/esqai. kai\ h( Qeodo/th, Nh\ Di/', e)/fh, ei) toi/nun tau=q' ou(/twj
e)/xei, e)me\ a)\n de/oi u(mi=n th=j qe/aj xa/rin e)/xein.
(Mem. ..–)
[There was a bea utiful ( kale) w oman in th e cit y, whose name was Th eo-
dote, and who was th e sor t to keep company with whoever persuaded her.
When on e of those wh o w ere pr esent men tioned h er an d s aid tha t th e
beauty of the woman surpassed speech; and when he had said that painters,
to wh om sh e di splayed as mu ch of herself as was n oble t o di splay, visited
her in order to draw her likeness, Socrates said, “We must go t o behold her,
for surely it i s not possible for th ose who have merely heard to learn wha t
surpasses speech.” And the one who had described her said, “Hurry up and
follow.” Thus th ey w ent t o Th eodote an d came upon h er st anding for a
certain painter, and they beheld her. After the painter left o ff, Socrates said,
“Men, should w e be mor e g rateful t o Th eodote for di splaying for us h er
beauty, or she to us beca use we beheld? If the display is more beneficial to
her, as is it for h er to be grateful to us, while if the beholding is more bene-
ficial t o us, for us t o be g rateful t o h er?” And wh en someon e s aid tha t
The Socratic Pandora
what he said was just, he said, “She, then, already gains from our praise and
will be th e mor e ben efited wh enever w e sh ould r eport it t o mor e people;
while w e a lready desir e t o t ouch wha t w e ha ve beh eld an d w ill go a way
rather excited and will long for what we have left behind. From these things
it i s pla usible tha t it i s w e wh o s erve an d sh e wh o r eceives s ervice.” And
Theodote said, “By Zeus, if this is so, then it i s I wh o should be g rateful to
you for th e beholding.”—Trans. Amy L. Bonnette]33
the invisible qualities of the psyche (Mem. ..), and he leads Cleiton to
see that his art of representation must f ace up to the activities of the soul
(..). According to Socrates, a good imitation succeeds in endowing an
appearance w ith its o wn pr inciple of life. This pr inciple i s applicable t o
the art of armor, which, in Socrates’ view, rests on a r epresentation of the
body’s in ternal harmon y an d unit y. Socrates tea ches th e thr ee ar tists t o
develop th eir capa city for obs ervation an d th eir abilit y t o r ead in visible
meaning in to wha t th ey s ee and, correspondingly, to cr eate appear ances
that embody hid den qualities.
Theodote’s ar tistic st atus i s ex ceptional beca use h er ar t i s n ot r epre-
sentational. She does n ot cr eate r epresentations as mu ch as sh e ena cts
forms of self-representation. Theodote pr esents herself as a w ork of art.
Her art is not mimetic, at least not in the ordinary sense. It does not refer
to an ything but its elf. Her ar t i s on e of self-patterning, shaping th e s elf
into th e form of a perfected object of desire.34 In order to e ffect thi s,
Theodote not only has t o be c ompetent; she must poss ess true exper tise
in what Socr ates understands to be th e di alectics of body and soul. This
is also what makes her art, in his view, the highest of the aforementioned
art forms. Theodote, however, seems to be unaware of her privileged posi-
tion as an ar tist, and it i s only thr ough a Socr atic di alogue (in its X eno-
phonic form) tha t she gains access to the possibility of self-knowledge.
Xenophon’s Socr ates r eveals t o Th eodote a r eflective pa th tha t a llows
her to come to terms w ith and assume r esponsibility for h er professional
life. Two main themes recur in the questions Socrates poses to Theodote:
the pla ce an d sig nificance of the gaze, and th e di alectics of the gaze, in
which sh e i s a lways involved. “Should w e be mor e g rateful t o Th eodote
for di splaying for us h er beauty, or she to us beca use we beheld?” Theo-
dote cannot escape h er role as an object of desire, an object of sight, but
Socrates i s nevertheless insi stent on lea ding h er t o a n ew understanding
of herself. By means of his questioning, he draws her attention to the fact
that her appearance is not something given in itself as much as it is some-
thing always dependent on th e gaze of a viewer. That is to say, Theodote
has an appear ance, first and for emost, because sh e i s par t of a w orld of
gazes, entangled in the human dynamics of looking and being looked at.35
This understanding has a liberating effect, according to Socrates. Theodote
should n ot un derstand h erself as an object t o be desir ed or ig nored b y
others, but as an a ctive agen t in a c omplicated h uman in teraction w ith
those who see and are attracted by what they see. At the same time, those
who see are always themselves being seen. This constitutes the second part
The Socratic Pandora
o(/ ti a)\n le/gousa eu)frai/noij, kai\ o(/ti dei= to\n me\n e)pimelo/menon a)sme/nwj
u(pode/xesqai, to\n de\ trufw=nta a)poklei/ein, kai\ a)rrwsth/santo/j ge
fi/lou frontistikw=j e)piske/yasqai kai\ kalo/n ti pra/cantoj sfo/dra
sunhsqh=nai kai\ tw=| sfo/dra sou= fronti/zonti o(/lh| th=| yuxh=| kexari/sqai:
filei=n ge mh\n eu)= oi)=d' o(/ti e)pi/stasai ou) mo/non malakw=j, a)lla\ kai\
eu)noi+kw=j:
(Mem. ..)
[You learn both h ow you mig ht g ratify w ith a look an d delig ht w ith what
you s ay; and that you must r eceive w ith g ladness one who i s attentive but
shut out one who is spoiled; and that when a friend is sick, at least, to watch
over him w orriedly, and when he does something n oble to be ex ceedingly
pleased by it a long w ith him; and to g ratify w ith your whole soul th e one
who worries about y ou exceedingly.]
you learn both h ow you might gratify with a look an d delight with what
you s ay” (Mem. ..). The soul i s the motivating force of the hetaera’s
conduct, gestures, and appearance. Only by recognizing the invisible dimen-
sion of her being can sh e excel in an d profit from the art of love.
Socrates’ deep un derstanding of the h etaera’s er otic ar t i s n ot c oinci-
dental but i s tied to the nature of his philosophical practice:
e)n de\ tou/tw| yuxh/n, h(=| katamanqa/neij kai\ w(j a)\n e)mble/pousa xari/zoio
kai\ o(/ ti a)\n le/gousa eu)frai/noij.
(Mem. ..)
[And I also have female friends who will not allow me to leave them day or
night, since they are learning lo ve charms an d incantations from me.]
annoying gadfly who har asses a large an d noble horse (e). This image
of Socrates as ga dfly makes him in to an a ttachment (proskeimenon, e)
inflicted upon th e s elf-indulgent cit y. Though Pla to was car eful n ot t o
employ the word doron for “gift” in this context, his formulation in d,
ten tou theou dosin, “god’s gift,” nevertheless recalls the epithet of Pandora
in Works and Da ys , doron th eon, “the g ift of the gods.”38 Both texts,
Hesiod’s Works and Da ys and Pla to’s Apology, celebrate th e c ensure of
their protagonists by society, as well as th e collective refusal to recognize
the value of the gift these protagonists bring. Nevertheless, the images of
Pandora and Socrates are not compatible. The crux of the Hesiodic image
of Pandora is the ambiguous nature of her gift. For Plato, condemnation
of Socrates is indicative of society’s shortcomings. In other words, he pres-
ents Socr ates as a g ift tha t i s mi sunderstood an d mi sused. That h ostile,
negative reception is not unconnected to an ambiguit y in Socr ates’ char-
acter and behavior. His alleged care for his interlocutors’ souls often causes
them embarrassment. His goodness, that is, assumes the form of an annoy-
ance. His w isdom t akes th e form of professed ig norance. The cit y was
alarmed b y thi s r estless nuisance and c ould har dly find any good in hi s
provocations. Socrates, according to Plato, is a gift whose utility remained
concealed from the majority of Athenians because they could not under-
stand that his annoying behavior was th e essence of his usefulness.
Socrates’ duality is given its fullest elaboration in the Symposium, where
the philosopher is portrayed as a s educer and a teacher of love. In search-
ing for th e liter ary sources of this new liter ary persona, we should make
note of a striking connection between the figure of Socrates and Hesiod’s
Pandora. Pandora mig ht at first s eem to o ffer only a n egative model for
the construction of the Socratic figure. Whereas she is known as the kalon
kakon, the one whose exterior is beautiful and whose interior is evil, he is
characterized by an unsightly exteriority and a beautiful inward goodness.
She exemplifies the deceptiveness of appearance, while he r epresents the
hidden nature of truth.
And yet an affinity between the philosopher and the first woman exists,
in spite of these appar ent di fferences. To beg in w ith, it sh ould be n oted
that th eir externa l appear ances a ffect th eir v iewers in th e s ame mann er:
both th e bea utiful w oman an d th e ug ly philosoph er str ike oth ers w ith
wonder.39 In the Symposium this effect is apparent when Alcibiades turns
to look a t Socr ates. As Alcibiades en ters Agathon’s h ouse, he i s unaware
of Socrates’ presence. He is drunk an d wears a bea utiful wreath made of
fresh flowers and r ibbons, with which, he ann ounces, he w ill cr own th e
The Socratic Pandora
[Good lord, what’s going on here? It’s Socrates! You’ve trapped me (katekeiso)
again! You a lways do thi s t o me —all of a su dden y ou’ll turn up out of
nowhere wh ere I least expect y ou!—Trans. Alexander N ehamas an d P aul
Woodruff]40
’
Since we are not accustomed to think of Socrates’ physical appearance in
positive terms, Alcibiades surprises us. He declares what sensitive readers
of Plato’s Symposium may have already sensed—Socrates has a body , and
that body i s th e sour ce of charisma.43 This is not the conventional view
of Socrates. Nor i s it th e wa y Socr ates s eems t o c onceive of himself. As
Martha C. Nussbaum writes:
Socrates has so di ssociated hims elf from hi s body tha t h e gen uinely does
not feel its pa in, or r egard its su fferings as things gen uinely happening t o
The Socratic Pandora
’
Let us t ake Alcibiades’ response at face value. Can we seriously accept his
reference to Socrates as the most beautiful of men? This is not easy, espe-
cially when we recall that this “most beautiful” man is also referred to as
an ugly and grotesque Silenus or s atyr by Alcibiades himself (Symp. b,
d). How i s it possible tha t th e stupefy ing e ffect of Socrates’ repulsive
appearance i s so similar t o the stunning e ffect of the beauty of Pandora
or Theodote? Ugliness remains exactly that, even if it belongs to a brilliant
mind. Plato suppli es a good example in th e figure of Theaetetus, bright,
young, but ugly. His teacher, Theodorus, introduces him t o Socrates:50
kai\ mh/n, w)= Sw/kratej, e)moi/ te ei)pei=n kai\ soi\ a)kou=sai pa/nu a)/cion oi(/w|
u(mi=n tw=n politw=n meiraki/w| e)ntetu/xhka. kai\ ei) me\n h)=n kalo/j, e)fobou/mhn
a)n\ sfo/dra le/gein, mh\ kai/ tw| do/cw e)n e)piqumi/a| au)tou= ei)n= ai. nu=n de/ -kai\
The Socratic Pandora
[Yes, Socrates, I have met w ith a y outh of this cit y who certainly des erves
mention, and you will find it worthwhile to hear me describe him. If he were
handsome, I should be afraid to use strong terms, lest I should be suspected
of being in lo ve w ith him. However, he i s not handsome, but—forgive my
saying so —he r esembles y ou in being sn ub-nosed an d ha ving pr ominent
eyes, though these features are less mark ed in him. So I can speak w ithout
fear. I assur e y ou tha t, among a ll th e y oung men I ha ve met w ith—and I
have ha d t o do w ith a good man y—I ha ve n ever foun d su ch a dmirable
gifts. The combination of a r are quickness of intelligence w ith exceptional
gentleness and of an incomparably v irile spir it w ith both, is a thing tha t I
should hardly have believed could exist.—Trans. Francis Macdonald]51
’
It is widely recognized that the figures of Socrates and Eros are symboli-
cally ti ed together in th e Symposium. Socrates i s pr efigured in Diotima ’s
mythic por trayal of Eros as a daimon—an image tha t is strengthened by
Alcibiades’ autobiographical a ccount, which por trays Socr ates as a sy m-
bolic desc endant of Eros hims elf. Alcibiades n ot only a dopts th e term
The Socratic Pandora
daimonion in a ddressing Socr ates ( d–d)52 but a lso depicts Socr ates’
physiognomy, personality, and philosophical disposition in a manner that
recalls crucial aspects of the figure of Eros. Like Eros, Socrates is barefoot
and is a lover of wisdom and beauty. Moreover, as a human embodiment
of Eros, Socrates’ vocation as a tea cher of love i s r ealized in hi s (erotic)
role as medi ator betw een th e human and th e di vine, the eph emeral and
the eternal.
In pr esenting Socr ates as its h uman embodimen t, Plato a dopted an d
reinterpreted the Hesiodic genealogy of Eros. As we recall in Theogony the
primordial cosmological stage is ushered in by an abstract presence of the
erotic for ce. Only w ith th e ma turation of the s ensible w orld does Er os
acquire its concrete, sensual manifestations. This first occurs in Aphrodite’s
beautiful c ountenance. Finally, Eros i s embodi ed in th e image of Pan-
dora—that i s, in th e appear ance of the ph enomenon par excell ence (see
chapter ). Both Theogony and the Symposium conceive of their protago-
nists as dir ect descendants of Eros. Pandora and Socrates are two human
manifestations of the divine, or the daimonic, Eros.
In or der t o appr eciate Socr ates’ erotic dimension, one sh ould aga in
look at him through the eyes of Alcibiades. Alcibiades’ gaze turns Socrates
into a P andora. As he beholds Socrates, he undergoes a v isual experience
similar to that of men who have gazed at Pandora: he faces a visibility that
contains an in visible dimension, a figure that hides an in teriority:
fhmi\ ga\r dh\ o(moio/taton au)to\n ei)=nai toi=j silhnoi=j tou/toij toi=j e)n
toi=j e(rmoglufei/oij kaqhme/noij, ou(/stinaj e)rga/zontai oi( dhmiourgoi\
su/riggaj h)\ au)lou\j e)/xontaj, oi(\ dixa/de dioixqe/ntej fai/nontai e)/ndoqen
a)ga/lmata e)/xontej qew=n. kai\ fhmi\ au)= e)oike/nai au)to\n tw=| satu/rw| tw=|
Marsu/a|.
(Symp. b)
P’ V
Hesiod’s version of the myth of the first woman locates the origin of lan-
guage in Zeus ’s deceitful g ift to men. Pandora, the archetypal woman, is
known for her gift of seduction and her ability to manipulate her behold-
ers. She i s the first human being t o be char acterized by language. She i s,
in fact, a master of rhetoric whose divine patron is the god Hermes him-
self (W&D –). And y et, in spite of this m ythical associ ation of the
feminine w ith rhetorical dexterity, ideal conceptions of woman prefer to
envision her as silent. Traditional authors encourage women to keep quiet
and li sten, to learn but n ever t o teach.1 This subor dination i s r easserted
in Paul’s f amous denial of authority to women: “Let the woman learn in
silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp
authority over the man, but to be in silen ce” ( Tim. :–).
Pandora’s speech pr ovokes anxi ety. Men fear h er unr eliable language.
They ar e afr aid of being sw ept up in th e s eductive po wer of her w ords.
But P andora’s lingui stic t alent does n ot just pr ovoke ma le anxi ety; it i s
also a char acteristic of feminine pr omiscuity. This means tha t P andora
constitutes an an tithesis t o th e “good” female, the r estrained w oman.
Symbolically, Pandora i s n ot mer ely a g ifted speak er. Her language i s a
manifestation of the invincible force of eros. Never tr ansparent or di sci-
plined, Pandora’s language i s the language of multiplicity, always at play
with concealments and dissimulations. Following Pandora, a woman’s lan-
guage always bears th e potential of becoming the language of the femme
fatale. Woman i s danger ous pr ecisely because sh e i s a master of speech,
a rhetorician, a weaver of words that expose her immoder ate and lustful
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
’
Public appear ances of the vox fe minina belong to the Greek st age. Being
produced by male actors, of course, they are not authentic expressions of
feminine voices. How, then, is the feminine voice constructed?3 The dr a-
matic significance of the feminine persona li es in th e way it sub verts and
breaks ancient conventions of femininity in th e Greek theater. Consider,
for example, such exceptional heroines as Clytemnestra, Antigone, Medea,
and Phaedr a. These figures oc cupy a c entral spa ce on st age, they domi-
nate the dr amatic time, and they constantly dr aw attention toward their
eccentric, unconventional and decisive actions. And yet almost every sin-
gle aspect of their performan ce i s testimon y t o th e sub versive meaning
of their dramatic role. More specifically, the very appearance of feminine
figures on st age v iolates th e most fun damental conventions of Athenian
society. These dramatic images of women are powerful, assertive, aggres-
sive, and, moreover, active. They st and on st age, and in so doing th ey
symbolically transgress the unwritten law that prescribes their Greek way
of life. Here, on st age, the r epresentation of women i s n ot c onfined to
the private domain of the home. Women are not hidden from the public
eye as th ey ar e in n ormal G reek life. And so th e feminin e pr otagonist’s
usurpation of the stage is important in appr eciating the gendered signifi-
cance of her theatrical transgression. Even without acknowledging their vio-
lent passions, it is enough that these feminine figures are visible, that they
speak and act in public, to turn them into powerful, authoritative women.
These r epresentations of women wh o aspir e t o po wer an d a uthority, to
kratos, are unconventional and provocative.4
Aeschylus’s Cly temnestra o ffers a par adigmatic cas e of such feminin e
power, since she literally rules as queen of Argos in Agamemnon’s absence.
In other words, she i s a leg itimate ruler in an abn ormal time an d situa-
tion. Nevertheless, in spite of the leg itimacy of her rule, 5 Clytemnestra’s
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
The first inst ance in which kratos is associ ated w ith the concept of liter-
ary authority—the first time it appears a t the intersection of power, art,
and gender—is in Homer’s Odyssey. True, the episode (Od. .–) con-
stitutes a r eenactment of the social order. It reorganizes male and female
roles in their proper categories, and culminates in silencing the female by
enforcing ma le expect ations. Nevertheless, this pass age i s th e locus cl as-
sicus that g ives r ise t o feminin e liter ary deman ds. The epi sode r ecounts
the conflict betw een Telemachos and Penelope o ver authority in liter ary
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
matters. The question regarding the right to make a decision about house-
hold a ffairs ( kratos, Od. .) arises in th e c ontext of a liter ary di spute
concerning th e performan ce of the h ouse bar d, Phemius. More speci fi-
cally, Telemachos and Penelope cha llenge each other’s authority to deter-
mine th e content of the bar d’s song . In th e c onfrontation th ey expr ess
their di verging v iews about poetr y’s a im, sources, and va lues. This c on-
flict between a y oung man an d a w oman, between a son an d his mother,
is connected to their respective positions as li steners, interpreters, and lit-
erary patrons. These literary positions are organized into male-female sets
of oppositions. Telemachos makes it c lear to his mother that she belongs
to the rear parts of the house, where she is expected to engage in h er tra-
ditional feminin e oc cupation, weaving. Mythos, which h ere speci fies th e
field of poetry, remains a masculine activity performed and administered
by men. Moreover, in thi s par ticular cas e r esponsibility for th e bar d’s
performance belongs entirely to Telemachos. It should be noted, however,
that Telemachos’s claim to an authorial position on poetic matters derives
from his kratos—his claim to authority over household affairs.
Before P enelope di sappears t o h er r ooms, before sh e sur renders t o
silence, she r aises h er v oice an d expr esses h er desir es. The f act tha t h er
son i s deaf to hi s moth er’s deman ds only in tensifies h er feminin e pr es-
ence, a presence that is manifest despite her absence from the house’s pub-
lic ha ll. Penelope illustr ates th e ambigu ous st atus of the feminin e voice.
On the one hand, her voice is autonomous and clear. On the other hand,
it is also illicit. 8
[She has ch eek, a lot of lip, loquacity, audacity, also perspicacity, tenacity,
mendacity.
someone accuses her, she’ll just outsw ear the man w ith oaths.
She knows every phony phrase, the phony ways, the phony plays.
Wiles she has, guiles she has, very soothing smiles sh e has.—Trans.
E. Segal]11
The puella rivals the divine poetic authority of Calliope and Apollo.13 She
dictates the mollis (“soft,” “effeminate”) character of Propertius’s book. In
Amores, Ovid t oo associ ates hi s poetr y w ith a feminin e (mor tal) sour ce
of inspiration.14 In a la ter poem h e distinguishes his didactic works from
traditional didactic poetry whose paternalistic authority was grounded in
divine inspiration:
for example, the soft form of its writing—are constructed through effem-
inate features. The tendency to label the male lover and his poetry as soft
and servile implies that the love elegy’s speaker holds a mor ally depraved
position, hinting at decadent failings in his Roman (patriotic) education.21
Modern r esponses to the effeminate persona of the Roman love eleg y
are var ied, and y et a ll appr oaches shar e a per ception of the lo ve eleg y’s
effeminacy. Interestingly, almost every attempt to decipher the poetic effect
of the effeminate elegiac discourse is carried out using the poetry of Prop-
ertius. Duncan Kennedy, for inst ance, explains h ow th e s exual ambigui-
ties of the Propertian male subject both r eflect and construct literary and
political positions. According to Kennedy, the perverse masculinity of the
effeminate ego sh ould be un derstood in lig ht of its cr eation of a vagu e
form of textuality that resists consistency.22 This means, in particular, the
construction of a discourse that can har dly be fitted into a uni fied polit-
ical fr amework. Readers of the R oman lo ve eleg y ar e still ba ffled b y th e
question the genre itself seems to foster: does the representation of weak
masculinity reflect an anti-Augustan speaker, a subversive voice in a patri-
otic and conservative society,23 or a pr o-Augustan speaker? Is effeminacy
the ground for and the backdrop of a performative kind of discourse that
is a parody of a subversion of common values that it actually supports? Is
this genre, in other words, intended to shock the educated Roman reader
and post a warning about th e pitfalls threatening his world?24
For Kennedy, the ambiguous political position of the love elegy is espe-
cially r eflected in P ropertius’s eleg ies. Take, for example, his obs ervation
that “what P ropertius w rote has a lways been open t o appr opriation t o
serve different interests.”25 Here, and elsewhere as well, Kennedy sees Prop-
ertius’s politica l ambiguit y r everberating in th e textua l ambiguit y of his
elegies. Maria Wyke has w ritten about the love elegy’s double meaning as
an effect that “destabilizes traditional Roman gender categories.”26 As such,
the sexually ambiguous ego propagates an ambiguous poetic discourse that
defies conventional Roman categories of the feminine and masculine.27
In hi s r ecent tr eatment of this poetic ph enomenon, Paul Allen M iller
seeks to redefine the meaning of Propertius’s use of gender ambivalence.
He i s concerned w ith the nature of a di scourse that constantly blurs th e
distinction between gender categories. Miller’s reading of Propertius’s ele-
gies draws on femini st psychoanalytical theories and claims not only that
the Roman love elegy plays with conventional gender categories, but that
its main innovative force is in the circumscription of a third semantic space,
a zone of meaning between the orthodox Roman categories of masculinity
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
and femininity. Miller argues that the effeminate discourse of Roman love
elegy positively marks a n ew form of textuality: “What we have in th ese
poems i s a v ery in tricate language game in which th e poet, by oc cupy-
ing both sides of the opposition but n ever being wholly present on either
side, inscribes the possibility of a third position that can only be expressed
in terms of the simult aneous c ontradiction betw een an d eq uivalence of
both sides.”28
The n egation of conservative masculinit y e ffected b y th e e ffeminate
discourse of love elegy results in the creation of a third subjective form of
expression, which, according to the Roman mind, is neither typically male
nor female. Miller conceives of the elegy’s third option as “both radically
critical and deeply c onservative, both inside an d outside th e system”—in
other words, as feminine.29 Like Kennedy and Wyke, Miller refuses to read
Propertius’s e ffeminacy in terms of the conventional binar y oppositions.
He often pr efers the term “femininity” to “effeminacy.” For example, ref-
erring t o s everal of Propertius’s eleg ies in Book , he w rites tha t th ey
“present P ropertius as speaking in th e feminin e, a di scourse tha t elu des
the c onventional binar y oppositions of official an d sub versive, pro an d
con, conscious and unconscious.”30 In his symbolic claim that “Propertius
is a woman,” Miller attempts to avoid the derogative connotation attached
to effeminacy in Roman culture, and instead to reload the term “woman”
with a n ew textual dimension. 31
The mediation of postmodern feminist thought allows Miller to recog-
nize the di scourse of Roman love eleg y as a feminin e phenomenon and,
with the help of post-Lacanian feminists such as Clément, Cixous, Kristeva,
and Irigaray, to construe Propertius’s feminine textuality.32 I agree that the
effeminate discourse of Roman eleg y demonstr ates “the elegists’ rhetoric
of ambivalence, oxymoron, and paradox,” and that this effeminate rheto-
ric “closely approximates that of Woman as defined by post-Lacanian fem-
inists.”33 Yet I do n ot see how this reading escapes th e binar y fr amework
in which th e eleg iac di scourse hi storically an d cultur ally r esides. In th e
Roman context, the third discursive option opened up by the feminine dis-
course of Propertius remains an inh erent part of the derogative language
of mollitia, or what was understood by the Roman reader as typical of the
effeminate discourse.
In this sense, Miller’s analysis of Propertius’s effeminacy does not rest on
ancient conceptions of the feminine. Propertius does n ot allow the femi-
nine any articulation that is independent of the masculine. His rhetoric of
gender inversion is still informed by the powerful discourse of effeminacy
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
[I seek an enduring glory so that I may always be sung throughout the whole
world.]
In this poem, which concludes Book of Amores, Ovid returns to the lit-
erary dilemma that opened the collection (Am. .): the antithesis between
lofty epic an d lig ht lo ve eleg y. Both eleg ies a ddress th e liter ary st atus of
the love eleg y genr e. But the li st of valued poets in Amores . modifies
the a uthorial st ance assumed in E legy ..37 Elegy . signals a turn in
Ovid’s ideas c oncerning th e sour ces an d liter ary sig nificance of the lo ve
elegy. While the introductory elegy reflects his poetic insecurities as a love
elegist, Amores . attempts to cover up th ese insecurities by defying the
inferior classification of the genre.
Amores . is a mask ed recusatio poem in which Ov id camouflages the
provocative nature of his decision to write a love elegy. Instead of declar-
ing his opposition t o the canonical and well-established epic form, Ovid
avoids r esponsibility for hi s pr oblematic ch oice of genre. The pr ogram-
matic poem, rather, presents him as conflicted and embarrassed by Cupid’s
intervention, which diverts the innocent poet from his initial plan of writ-
ing national poetry. Love elegy is thus the work of Cupid.
This nar rative i s abandoned, however, toward the end of Book . And
so, in Amores ., Ovid no longer appears as th e confused subject manip-
ulated b y th e whimsica l C upid. He changes hi s nar rative str ategy as h e
embarks on constructing a new poetic biog raphy. This transformation in
the poet’s s elf-understanding i s not untypical of the genr e of love eleg y.
The book of love eleg ies char acteristically in volves an explor ation of
the r elationship between time an d desir e, and between time an d w riting
about desire, and thereby makes it possible t o present seemingly incoher-
ent “moments” of the poetic ego . However, the incongruity between Ele-
gies . and . may nevertheless be interpreted in a lin ear way: they may
be un derstood as di fferent poin ts on th e tr ajectory lea ding fr om Ov id’s
initial apologetic position t o his provocative persona. 38
In Amores . Ovid adopts a literary biography inspired by the tension
between c onservative an d liber al perspecti ves on lo ve eleg y. Swimming
against the current, he follows neither the tr aditional career of a Roman
soldier nor the prestigious profession of law. Furthermore, since he inter-
nalizes th e gaze of the c onservative r eader, Ovid kn ows tha t hi s poetic
career i s considered mor ally flawed, and even attacked as par asitical: the
pastime of a lazy an d idle y outh who r efuses to s erve the Roman public
despite hi s suit able soci al an d ph ysical q ualifications ( Am...–). This
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
Poetic desire finds ambitious expression here. By the end of his first book
of love elegies, Ovid is heading toward canonization. In spite of the com-
mon prejudice against love elegy as “a work of an idle talent” (ingenii iner-
tis opus, ..), he i s n onetheless c onfident of a g lorious futur e for hi s
poetry. He therefore demands the s ame r espect and r ecognition for lo ve
elegy tha t i s a ccorded th e g lorious epic (G reek an d La tin), tragedy, and
comedy.
Elegy . takes i ssue w ith two audiences, two potential r esponses. On
the on e han d, Ovid an ticipates th e r esponse of a c onservative cr itic, a
traditionalist r eader, a follo wer of the pa triarchal tr adition, mos pat rum
(..). On the other hand, he welcomes the appreciative connoisseur, an
open-minded reader whom he imagines as hi s ideal addressee. This ideal
reader is the anxious lover.39 This means that the lover has a dual role: not
only th e subject of love eleg y, but a lso its sophi sticated r eader. Ovid’s
poetic persona i s thus ti ed to hi s conception of his audience. The poet’s
confidence i s depen dent on an ex clusive a udience tha t w ill embr ace hi s
poetry and on th e deg radation of his cr itics, whom he di scounts as vul-
gar (vulgus), impressed and entertained by cheap representations (vilia).40
The catalogue of authors in Amores ..– demonstrates Ovid’s high
aspirations for th e genre. For him lo ve elegy should be can onized as on e
of the distinguished traditional genres, on a par with the works of Homer,
Hesiod, Callimachus, Sophocles, Aratus, Menander, Ennius, Accius, Varro,
Lucretius, Virgil, Tibullus, and Gallus. In Ars Amatoria .–, however,
he gives expression to more specific poetic concerns. At this later stage of
his literary career the now-celebrated author of Amores, Heroides, and Ars
Amatoria and is no longer pr eoccupied w ith th e r elationship of love
elegy to the canon. By the time he comes to write Ars Amatoria, that generic
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
T .
Amores ..– Ars Amatoria .–
Homer Callimachus
Hesiod Philetas
Callimachus Anacreon
Sophocles Sappho (my emphasis)
Aratus Menander
Menander
Ennius Propertius
Accius Gallus
Varro Tibullus
Lucretius Varro
Virgil Virgil
Tibullus Ovid
Gallus
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
T .
Ars Amatoria .– Remedia Amoris –
Callimachus Callimachus
Philetas Philetas
Anacreon Sappho (my emphasis)
Sappho (my emphasis) Anacreon
Menander
Propertius Tibullus
Gallus Propertius
Tibullus Gallus
Varro Ovid
Virgil
Ovid
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
S’ L
Sappho’s symbolic presence in Ars and Remedia is intrinsic to Ovid’s self-
fashioning as a “lascivious” author. Adopting her illegitimate stance—her
status as a fema le a uthor—allows him t o c onstruct hi s o wn un conven-
tional dida ctic st ance. Sappho’s lascivia is first men tioned b y Ov id in
Heroides, a text in which h er impor tance i s c onspicuous. In thi s c ollec-
tion of epistles, he shows his deep in terest in th e fictional persona of the
female w riter. Ovid i s w ell kn own for hi s f ascination w ith th e feminin e
experience, voice, and persona, which h e var iously assumes thr oughout
the work. The letters pr esent a r ich cast of female figures whose unusual
character i s shaped thr ough th eir appear ance as w riters. In r eferring t o
Heroides as th e kin d of work unkn own t o oth ers ( ignotum ho c aliis ill e
novavit opus, AA .), Ovid bases his claim to novelty not on the inven-
tion of a new genre, but rather on th e Heroides’ strangeness.48
The Heroides is a str ange textua l ph enomenon because it ascr ibes th e
act of writing to women.49 For a Roman author, a woman’s text represents
the poetic “other.” Writing like a w oman is, as Joseph Farrel notes, “a re-
sponse to an attempt to impose silence.”50 What is the significance of this
feminine tr ait for Ov id? H is w riting usur ps thi s form of anomaly an d
makes the e ffect of strangeness ess ential for hi s poetic s elf-refashioning.
Ovid’s persona l r apport w ith Sapph o goes ba ck t o Heroides , where
he a dapts an d dubs h er v oice, reinventing th e st ory of her h eterosexual
love affair w ith Phaon. Sappho’s singular st atus among th e women w rit-
ers in th e Heroides is c onspicuous, grounded in th e f act tha t sh e i s th e
only one for wh om the ar t of writing i s an in tegral par t of her identity.
Readers of the Heroides have shown how the identity of Sappho as a poet
(poetria, .) merges w ith Ovid’s identity.51
The submersion of Sappho’s identity into Ovid’s lies behind the prob-
lem of authenticity that arises in the context of the reception of Epistle .
In r ecent y ears th e old deba te r egarding Ov id’s authorship has been r e-
placed with a discussion of the manner in which authenticity is tied to the
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
poem’s female voice.52 In what way does Ovid’s feminine voice correspond
to the historical Sappho? Is there any way in which an Ov idian language
could make a pla ce for Sapph o’s o wn voice? Can w e speak of a genuine
Sapphic voice independent of its traditional representations?
The di fficulties in i solating th e feminin e v oice fr om th e ma le a uthor
are not only par t of the exper ience of reading Ov id’s Heroides; they a lso
rise in th e c ontext of Sappho’s o wn r eception. Consider, for example,
Page duBois’s description of the effect of Sappho’s poetr y on h er ancient
readers:
Her body an d its desir es [ar e] in tolerable, its speech t oo ly rical, too h ys-
terical, too ca ught up in th e ba ttles of love, scenes of marriage, physical
longing for the beloved to participate in the sober work of philosophy, even
an erotic philosophy like Plato’s.53
It i s d ifficult to i solate Sappho’s w riting from the way she was per ceived
and read in antiquity. Her poetry, according to duBois, cannot be isolated
from the readers’ responses, discourses, and values, all of which reconfirm
and in tensify h er sub versiveness an d h er ir regularities as lasciva woman
and poetess. Here, Sappho’s sub versive a uthority li es in h er ar chetypal
position as a fema le author who, as duBois writes, transgresses the tradi-
tional boundaries of ancient poetics.
Sappho is an outspoken and powerful figure who arouses intense desire
among readers. This view—expressed more than once in the reception of
her poetr y—can be detected in th e unique role her passionate di scourse
plays in Western culture.54 Sappho’s eroticism is conceived as bolder an d
more v iolent than tha t of Archilochus and oth er ma le poets. She tr ans-
gresses not only thematic boundaries (topics considered respectable), but
also boundaries of femininity (speech considered decorous for a fema le).
Sappho’s desir e was th e subject of fantasies for G reek and Latin com-
edy writers who referred to the story of her unrequited heterosexual love
for Phaon. Plautus, for example, refers t o h er extr aordinary passion in
Miles Gloriosus –: Nam nulli mor tali scio optigisse hoc nisi duo bus /
tibi et Phaoni Lesbio, tam mulier se ut amaret. Wishing to convey the pros-
titute’s ex cessive desir e t oward th e soldi er, the s lave subtly r emarks tha t
only Sappho could equal the prostitute in h er passionate intensity.55
For Ovid, therefore, Sappho is not just the name of the historical Greek
poetess. He does not cite her name just to commemorate one of his poetic
influences. In Heroides, and in Ars Amatoria and Remedia Amoris, the name
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
about the bold image of Sappho as a liter ary persona. She is known as a
didactic authoress, which is also an atypical position for a woman. What’s
more, her irregular authority is derived from her role as a teacher of love.
Sappho’s prominent st anding in th e erotodidactic tr adition explains why
she has bec ome a pr ominent source of inspiration for Ov id.
In Ars Amatoria and Remedia Amoris, Sappho’s impor tance as a lo ve
poetess an d as an er otodidactic a uthority o ver Ov id i s emphasi zed. He
canonizes h er n ot only as a ly ric poet, but a lso as a tea cher of love. In
recommending her poetr y to lovers, he impli es the didactic va lue of her
love poems, which is confirmed again by his personal experience in Reme-
dia . In thi s s ense, Ovid’s deployment of Sappho echoes Socr ates’ use
of a feminine persona—Diotima—to endorse his own erotic conceptions.
Though Diotima does n ot a ctually par ticipate in th e f amous ga thering,
she is introduced by Socr ates as th e mother (the feminine source) of his
erotic di scourse. We mig ht detect in Tristia a similar image of poetic
conception. In Tristia . Ovid expresses to an unnamed fr iend his deep
concern for th e destiny of his works. He distinguishes, however, between
his banned love-guides and the rest of his poetic c orpus. Ovid elaborates
on thi s par ental met aphor, imagining hims elf not just as a car ing f ather
to his erotodidactic books, but as a feminin e father by means of an anal-
ogy t o J upiter’s deli very of Pallas Athena: Palladis exe mplo de me sine
matre c reata car mina sunt (“in Pallas f ashion were my verses born fr om
me w ithout a moth er,” Tr. ..). This conversion of the physical act of
giving bir th in to an image of masculine cr eation or iginates w ith Pla to.
More specifically, the Symposium presents the most emblema tic feminine
characteristic—giving birth—as the governing principle of the erotic field.
And so Ov id, the erotic master, follows Plato in c onjuring thi s image of
parenthood. In alluding to Jupiter’s motherless delivery, Ovid reproduces
the Socr atic gestur e toward Diotima. Like Socr ates, Ovid points to him-
self as a masculin e mother replacing an abs ent feminine original. Sappho
is the absent role model. She is the poetic mother of Ovid’s erotodidactic
poetry.
During Ov id’s time, “Sappho” was considered a m ythical name, asso-
ciated with other mythical wise women such as Diotima and Aspasia, who
achieved their authority as exemplar y teachers of love.58 Ovid has ch osen
Sappho as a na tural erotodidactic role model pr ecisely because, as a lo ve
poetess, she represents better than Diotima an d Aspasia the erotodidactic
field of poetry.59 This group of women, however, is also associated with the
philosophical male expert on lo ve, Socrates. Diotima and Aspasia appear
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
as er otic teachers in th e Socr atic liter ature;60 “beautiful Sapph o,” Sappho
kale, is in cluded in Phaedrus among th e an cient w ise men an d w omen
(sophoi) wh o spok e an d w rote about lo ve. Sappho, “the ten th M use,”
inspires Socr ates’ notion of love.61 But it i s the second-century Maximus
of Tyre ( Orationes .) wh o suppli es an ar resting c omparison betw een
the two and provides a Socr atic portrayal of Sappho:
o9 de\ Lesbi/av ti/ a1n ei1h a1llo h1 au0to/, h9 Swkra/touv te/xnh e0rwtikh/;
dokou~si ga/r moi th\n kaq 0 au9to\n e9ka/terov fili/an, h9 me\n gunaikw~n o9 de\
a0rre/nwn, e0pithdeu~sai. kai\ ga\r pollw~n e0ra~n e1legon, kai\ u9po\ pa/ntwn
a9li/skesqai tw~n kalw~n: o3 ti ga\r e0kei/nw| 0Alkibia/dhv kai\ Xarmi/dhv kai\
Fai~drov, tou~to th~| Lesbi/a| Guri/nna kai\ 0Atqi\v 0Anaktori/a: kai\ o3 ti
per Swkra/tei oi9 a0nti/texnoi Pro/dikov kai\ Gorgi/av kai\ Qrasu/maxov
kai\ Prwtago/rav, tou~to th~| Sapfoi~ Gorgw\ kai\ 0Androme/da: nu~n me\n
e0pitima~| tau/taiv, nu~n de\ e0le/gxei kai\ ei0rwneu/etai au0ta\ e0kei~na ta\
Swkra/touv.
[What else could one call the love of the Lesbian woman than th e Socratic
art of love? For they seem to me to have practiced love after their own fash-
ion, she the love of women, he of men. For they said they loved many, and
were captivated by all things beautiful. What Alcibiades and Charmides and
Phaedrus were to him, Gyrinna and Atthis and Anactoria were to her; what
the rival cr aftsmen Prodicus and Gorgias and Thr asymachus and Protago-
ras were to Socrates, Gorgo and Andromeda were to Sappho. Sometimes she
censures them, at other times sh e cross-examines them, and she uses irony
just like Socrates.—Trans. David A. Campbell]62
Although the writer creates a parallel between Sappho and Socrates based
on th eir h omoeroticism, their similar a ttitude t oward th e techne er otike,
or what is better known as the Socratic expertise in the art of love, is more
important to him. Sappho i s considered an er otic exper t in th e Socr atic
manner since she mainly practices love as a di scourse. She maintains love
relationships using th e s ame techniq ues tha t Socr ates emplo ys wh en h e
charms an d a llures hi s in terlocutors in to c onversations: the s eductive
means of irony and refutation.
Maximus’s Socratic portrayal of Sappho can help us draw out the gene-
alogy of a family of mythical figures with a fundamentally erotic existence:
Sappho, Diotima, Aspasia, Socrates, and Ov id. This g roup est ablishes a
guild of teachers of love whose mythological patroness, I would argue, is
Pandora’s Voice and th e Emergence of Ovid’s Poetic Persona
echoes Propertius’s nomination of Catullus, the only poet sing led out as
lascivious:
[But we must wa it till our po wers have been dev eloped and est ablished to
the full befor e we turn to these poets, just as at banquets we take our fill of
the best f are and then turn t o other food which, in spite of its comparative
inferiority, is still attractive owing to its variety. Not until our taste is formed
shall we have leisure to study the elegiac poets.—Trans. H. E. Butler]78
Ovid’s tactic is striking. On one level, he cites th e critics who accuse him
of creating a shameless poetr y. They s ay that hi s Muse i s proterva. Their
“shameless Muse” is not far from Cicero’s description of the promiscuous
feminine figure, the courtesan, proterva meretrix (Cael. ). But Ovid does
not quote thi s s lander word for w ord; rather, he changes it in to the first
person. The critics say that “my Muse is shameless,” he says. He not only
repeats his accusers’ words but also reasserts them in the indicative. At the
same time, while his accusers derogatively allude to his sexual licentious-
ness, he pr ovides a di fferent in terpretation of Musa pr oterva. The wa y
in which h e conceives of his Muse cannot be eq uated w ith the way they
conceive of her. His Muse i s proterva not beca use h e bla tantly di scusses
sexual a cts: this a ccusation i s g roundless in lig ht of Ovid’s di sdain for
explicit pornographic images (Rem. –). Ovid’s Musa proterva should
be un derstood in terms of his us e of levitas and lascivia. These ar e th e
attributes he uses to legitimize his decision to dedicate himself to the ille-
gitimate field of eros. These terms ensure that his poetry will become what
it pr oclaims its elf to be: shamelessly pa thbreaking. In thi s s ense, Ovid’s
Musa pr oterva grows out of his conception of love eleg y as Venus’s pro-
curer (lena, Am. ..). The love elegist is protervus because he mediates
between the goddess of love and human beings, thus continuing the tradi-
tion of Socrates, Aspasia, Sappho, and Pandora, who all function as erotic
intermediaries.
chapter
Feminine Subjectivity and th e Self-Contradicting Text
The tension betw een gen uine emotion an d emotiona l gestur es, inner
passion and simulation of passions, is intrinsic to Ovid’s erotic teaching.
Consequently, it is not surprising that responses to his didactic works have
questioned again and again the text’s sincerity and integrity. In this sense,
there i s a c lose a ffinity betw een th e figure of Pandora an d Ov id’s lo ve
guides. The first w oman and th e erotodidactic text in cite similar cr itical
responses—in fact, both encourage misogynistic readings.
We shall see that Ovid makes woman’s self-contradicting character the
constituting pr inciple of his Ars and Remedia. Hence my di scussion w ill
focus on th e pa linodic structure that links th ese works. Plato’s Phaedrus
tells us that the history of the literary palinode leads back to a woman. As
Socrates turns hi s back on hi s first or ation aga inst lo ve and shifts t o an
alternative speech in f avor of it, he points to the source of this rhetorical
gesture. Punished by the gods for his defamation of Helen (he had blamed
her for th e Trojan War), the poet Stesich orus is said to have composed a
new poem of recantation in which h e completely purifies her. That i s to
say: the text of contradiction or iginates as a r esponse t o th e c onflicting
presence of a woman.1 In thi s r espect, the Platonic antecedent of Ovid’s
antithetical tr eatment of love a lready elu cidates th e in trinsic c onnection
between palinodic textuality and the mysterious figure of the femme fatale.
explore the form itself. This methodological approach to the elegy’s erotic
poetics affects the genre’s v itality and novelty. In systematically mapping
the er otodidactic di scourse, Ovid’s inn ovation casts a long sha dow o ver
the creative field for futur e elegiac poets. His work threatens to make all
amatory contributions faint replicas, mere borrowings or imitations of the
precepts established in Ars and Remedia.3
The destructive (or deconstructive) impact of Ovid’s systematization of
love elegy is well described by Gian Biagio Conte:
Ovid, before being th e author of elegiac texts, is the addressee of the pas-
sionate poetry of Catullus, Gallus, Propertius, and Tibullus. He has listened
to their words, learned to understand how the system tha t programs them
is constructed, discovered what contradictions invest it, deconstructed it by
finding its n ecessary r elations; now h e kn ows h ow t o r econstruct it in hi s
own way. Ovid’s text accepts the genre’s conventions; it places itself in a rela-
tion of intertextuality, indeed of continuation, with the lineage of elegy—a
vista of citations, a mirage of structures that are déjà vu and déjà vécu. But
at th e v ery momen t h e a cquires a super ior un derstanding of the liter ary
characteristics of elegy (the way in which it “works out” reality), Ovid stops.4
Conte characterizes the transition from the “standard” Roman love elegy
to Ars and Remedia as a n ew attempt “to look a t elegy instead of looking
with th e e yes of elegy.”5 “Looking a t eleg y” implies a di stance fr om th e
elegiac point of view. Furthermore, it impli es an in version of the poetic
role undertaken by the elegist. The very attempt to articulate the field of
eros as a form of Ars suggests an understanding of love according to which
the eleg ist’s immersion in amor ous pa thos, suffering, and sickn ess n o
longer provides any privileged access to the truth of the phenomenon he
describes.
In thi s r espect, Ovid’s shift fr om an expr essive t o a met alanguage of
love marks more than a mere didactic transition. Ars Amatoria and Reme-
dia Amoris signify the radicalization of the idea that language i s the inner
form of the phenomenon of love. For Ov id, the impor tance of language
exceeds its abilit y t o expr ess an d c ommunicate emotions, to ar ticulate
and shape amorous experiences. Language, rather, is a condition necessary
for entertaining emotions. In other words, love, according to Ov id, is an
intrinsically textua l ph enomenon—one tha t, in its ess ence, is language-
dependent. Hence, while his explicit subject of investigation is, of course,
Amor, the primary focus of the lover’s handbook is the verbal dimension
Feminine Subjectivity and th e Self-Contradicting Text
But the first, crudest stage in the development of feminine reading skills
is the most telling . Comparing the woman to the Roman populus evokes
Ovid’s first mention of the audience of Ars Amatoria: hoc populus: si quis
in hoc ar tem popul o non nov it amandi (AA .). Ars opens by addressing
any Roman who is ignorant of the art of love. In identifying the seduced
woman as populus (AA .), Ovid analogically positions her in the same
place as his intended readers, implying that women are, in fact, ideal read-
ers of his erotic discourse. Likewise, this analogy positions the male reader
of Ars . in the place taken up b y women in Ars ., implying that the
readers of Ovid’s guide are expected to undergo a comparable hermeneu-
tic development.6
Erotic ignorance is, according to Ovid, a preliminary stage that must be
transcended. That transcendence depends on the development of sophisti-
cated methods of reading. The ignorant reader (belonging to the populus)
can, in pr inciple, become an exper t ( iudex g ravis, or e ven lectus se natus)
in ma tters of love. In bec oming g reat lo vers, Ovid’s r eaders, by de fini-
tion, become masters of their master’s art. Once they turn into competent
lovers, they become experts in lo ve, inheriting their master’s art, the lan-
guage of love. They are made into poetic lo vers.
Not all men are poets, but all true lovers are poets.7 An exemplary lover
is, what’s more, a love poet, whom Ovid contrasts with seducers who lack
a poet’s skills.8 The celebration of the poet as the ultimate lover has a strong
performative va lue, highlighting hi s super ior techniq ues of seduction in
comparison with those of his rivals. But Ovid is not simply a s educer. He
is, first of all, a love instructor, teaching a us eful technique that i s appli-
cable t o both men an d w omen. He tea ches th e ar t of love b y pr oviding
the r eader w ith a di scursive model for imit ation: the language of love
poetry. In so doing , he deni es that love poetr y belongs only t o the circle
of Roman love eleg ists. Rather, he makes the erotic eleg iac form a ccessi-
ble to the average Roman.
Ovid’s instructions for bec oming a s educer or for appear ing to be in a
state of love were considered a c lear indication of the performativity that
is t o be foun d a t th e h eart of his guides. Ars and Remedia were re ad a s
rhetorical works in the negative sense, and romantic readers accused Ovid
of making fun of “true” love. Such cr iticisms, which w ere r ecurrent in
early responses to Ars and Remedia, have consistently stood in the way of
accepting Ovid’s didactic intention at face value.
Ovid c ertainly does n ot c onsider “love” to be a syn onym for h onest,
consistent, and truthful a ffection. Indeed, emotions ar e n ot in tegral t o
Feminine Subjectivity and th e Self-Contradicting Text
[Pretend to be wha t you are not, imitate the appearance of being burned
out: thus you will realize what you have been planning on doing .
Often, in order not to drink, I wanted to seem to be s leeping: while
seeming to sleep, my eyes were overcome by sleep. I have laughed at
the self-deluding man wh o, while pretending to be in lo ve, fell like a
bird-catcher into his own trap.]
works, and V irgil’s Georgics are impor tant in fluences.17 And y et Ov id’s
guides remain outside this traditional didactic Latin discourse, considered
by most of their readers, ancient and modern a like, to be a gen eric trans-
gression tha t begets “a subgenr e of the mock dida ctic.”18 Ovid’s didactic
modus also generates an enig matic form of textuality that is full of para-
doxes and self-contradictions. I will mention just a few of these.
Ovid’s didactic framework abuses the classical opposition between vir-
tue and pleasure, thus making utility the ethical core of the didactic genre,
which tha t th en became first an d for emost a means of communicating
immoral an d futile c ontent.19 More speci fically, since it was n otoriously
dedicated t o n onmatrimonial lo ve, Ovid’s er otodidactic poetr y became,
by de finition, anti-institutional.20 We can s ay tha t h e forma lly w rites a
didactic work whose essence is decidedly antididactic. Taking into account
the traditional hostility toward (vain) pleasures and passions, it is no won-
der tha t Ov id i s a ccused of promulgating an empt y di scourse. It i s thi s
kind of discourse that Cicero conceives as time-consuming—that is, con-
suming men’s precious time by turning it into otium. Reading love poetry
thus becomes as c orrupting as a pleasur e-seeking life. 21
Cicero’s contempt for s elf-indulgence entails a condescending response
toward liter ature that reflects it. His position i s typical of didactic works
such as L ucretius’s E picurean epic. The fer ocious c ondemnation of love
in Book of De Rerum Natura turns out to be, as Martha Nussbaum has
forcefully argu ed, a r enunciation of erotic poetr y as w ell. According t o
Lucretius, liberation from the illusionary grip of love means that lovers are
released from the spell of love poetr y. “Once the illusions of love are re-
moved,” Nussbaum writes of the didactic message of this antierotic poem,
“there is no love poetry to write.”22
We find a similar argument when we attempt to discover what is didac-
tic in the erotodidactic. Conte points to the death of love elegy as the crux
of Ovid’s dida ctics: “The Remedies against L ove present th emselves as a
cure for those in love, but in fact they function as a remedy against a form
of literature.”23 How does th e r emedy aga inst lo ve eleg y c orrespond t o
the dida ctic pr oject of that genr e: that i s, the ars poe tica of love ele gy?
What i s the va lue of an ars poe tica if the genr e it di scusses i s eventually
condemned?
The ambi valent st atus of Ovid’s dida ctic pr oject i s ti ed, of course, to
the c omplexity of his poetic persona (s ee chapter ). Here, however, we
are less c oncerned w ith Ov id’s s elf-understanding (e.g ., as a poet, as a
teacher). Our focus, rather, is on the uniqueness of the textual form of Ars
Feminine Subjectivity and th e Self-Contradicting Text
The negotiation between Ars, which addresses passion as a cur rent expe-
rience, and Remedia, which addresses passion as a past exper ience, is not
unproblematic for Ovid. He understands that this structure puts the value
of Ars into question. Again and again he reassures his reader that reading
Ars was not a poin tless exer cise. He promises tha t th e a dvice h e gave in
the first work will not lose its meaning or va lidity in th e face of the ulti-
mate curative antithesis of the second work. Both parts of his project, he
assures the reader, both the “pro” and the “con,” can still be seriously read.
Again, he assures the reader that Remedia does not threaten the status of
Ars as a dida ctic text, or invalidate its a dvice:
[Just as in th e past the reading of Naso was invaluable for you to learn how
to love,
so reading Naso now will be in valuable for y ou.]
Yet his articulation of a place and time in which the lover is no longer en-
slaved by a painful love does not imply that the possibility of love should
Feminine Subjectivity and th e Self-Contradicting Text
[You ask wh ere you can find a n ew love? Go r ead my Arts again:
your ship w ill soon be full of women.]
P’ L
I ha ve tr ied t o sh ow tha t th e mechani sm of contradiction i s th e modus
operandi of Ars and Remedia. Contradiction, ambiguity, and incoherence
are tr aditional signs of a woman’s language. Hence, in creating the space
of his text in a mann er tha t deliber ately embr aces c ontradiction, Ovid
is in ternalizing a c onception of textuality tha t i s in trinsically ti ed t o an
understanding of feminine subjectivity. But how exactly i s contradiction
tied to the nature of feminine experience and self-understanding? What is
Feminine Subjectivity and th e Self-Contradicting Text
the c onnection betw een th e c ontradictory pr isms tha t Ars and Remedia
present to their readers and the structure of a feminine autobiography?
Let us begin to address these questions by recalling that one of the most
important performative skills in the art of love is, according to Ovid, a com-
petence in ly ing. For the mythical imag ination, the underlying structure
of the li e i s th e dich otomy betw een a person ’s in wardness an d outwar d
appearance, a dich otomy tha t i s tr aditionally associ ated w ith femininit y
and found a lready in th e Hesiodic image of the first woman. While it i s
interesting to notice that Hesiod’s Pandora never actually lies, Works and
Days construes her archetypal image as dec eitful in ess ence. Reference to
her deceitful character (epiklopon ethos) is made twice (W&D , ), re-
inforced b y men tioning th e li es implan ted in h er b y H ermes ( pseudea,
W&D ). Beyond these specific attributions is a deeper stru ctural sense
that iden tifies th e first w oman w ith th e or igin of lies an d dec eption. As
suggested, Pandora, the first woman, is a lso the first human being—sin-
gular among the crowd of men—whose self is divided into an inside an d
an outside. The first woman is a creature who is not one with herself. And
this duality between what shows itself and what remains invisible implies
concealment and thus renders her, by definition, dishonest. In other words,
what makes Pandora’s image so troubling is not just the fact that she might
be hiding specific contents from the eyes of men. It is the fact, rather, that
she is, in principle, not transparent, that she has an in wardness that can-
not be fully a ccessed.
Pandora in troduces in to th e w orld th e dich otomy betw een an inn er
nature and external appearance that foreshadows the distinction between
soul and body. In this sense we find in th e image of the first woman the
seed for what would be articulated in the Western tradition as the general
form of the human. Should w e thus s ay tha t Pandora’s di sturbing e ffect
has to do with the way she mirrors men, allowing them to recognize their
own deceitful char acter and, consequently, their femininit y? For Hesiod,
Pandora is kalon kakon, expressing the discrepancy between a stunning ly
beautiful exteriority and an ev il soul. Yet in what sense should the female
soul be understood as ev il? It would seem that Pandora’s greatest problem
is having a soul in the first place. She desires. She wants and craves warmth,
food, home, sex, and children. These desires, had they been of a moder-
ate order, would have been acceptable. Nevertheless, they are seen as dubi-
ous and mor ally suspicious pr ecisely because th ey ar e invisible, because
they thr eaten t o r emain c oncealed fr om th e ma le beh older. Women, the
daughters of Pandora’s line, are accused of duplicity simply because their
Feminine Subjectivity and th e Self-Contradicting Text
Indeed, Ovid justifies his advice with the maxim tha t there is no f ault in
wronging th e w rongdoers. What g rounds thi s r easoning i s th e un der-
standing that women are, by their nature, deceivers; they are the profanum
genus. This sh ould n ot be r ead as a mi sogynist s lip. Ovid r epeats him-
self more than on ce in hi s love guide. For example, when di stinguishing
between th e tw o s exes, Ovid char acterizes w omen as kn owing h ow t o
conceal th eir desir es—unlike men, who ar e ba d imposters. Likewise, his
exhortation to the male reader to “let women suffer from the same wound
they are known to inflict” identifies women as the initiators of lying in an
amorous relationship.
Ovid’s us e of this feminine ster eotype i s not, in my v iew, misogynist.
For Ovid, who celebrates eros as intrinsic to human behavior, the feminine
is a positi ve emblem tha t reflects his fascination with the erotic field. He
has no reservations about th e use of the “feminine lie”; for him, its con-
tribution to erotic life i s particularly important. Thus, he advises women
to ar tfully lend th eir appear ance a na ive look. 27 While ascr ibing th e role
of seducer to men, women should occupy the position of the seduced and
play the role of the inhibited party. This distribution of active and passive
roles to the amorous subjects un derscores the playful element that exi sts
within the love relationship and points to its characteristic insincerity. But
the question of inauthenticity becomes especially acute in th e case of the
Feminine Subjectivity and th e Self-Contradicting Text
[Let the man first approach, let him speak w ords of entreaty:
her role is to listen gracefully to his flattering biddings.
To win her, ask her: all she desires is to be ask ed;
tell her the cause and the origin of your desire.
Jupiter courted the old h eroines as a suppli ant;
no woman raped mighty Jove.]
Ovid r efers here to the manipulative quality of the innocent appear ance
of the s educed w oman. Although sh e i s di sguised as a silen t an d in dif-
ferent partner, the girl’s passivity is interpreted in th e context of the love
game as concealing an opposite meaning. Her silence hides her desire. Her
silence, moreover, incites an d moti vates th e ma le’s first appr oach. Ovid
finds suppor t for hi s cas e in m ythology: in th e st ock of Jupiter’s amor -
ous affairs, all tales of sexual violence in which the god sates his desire for
feminine victims, usually virgins. Mention of the rape of virgins is not ir-
relevant to the love instruction. Ovid includes violence as a requisite com-
ponent o f the s educer’s r epertoire. The log ic, dangerously f amiliar t o us
from other contexts, is as follo ws:
[What wise man w ill not mix ki sses with flattering words?
Though she does n ot allow it, yet take what she does n ot give.
Perhaps she will struggle at first and cry “you rascal”;
yet she wishes to be o vercome in th e battle . . .
Though you might call it v iolence: girls like this violence:
often they love to refuse what it pleas es them to grant.
Happy is she who is violated unexpectedly by an amor ous rape,
and this assault she considers as a g ift.
And she who might have been har assed, but retreats untouched,
might fake a happy f ace, while in f act she is sad.]
Girls, according to Ovid, enjoy being har assed. Following a long mythical
tradition that equates love w ith v iolence, he proposes an argumen t f atal
for women’s lives. His claim does not just concern feminine sexuality but
also supports the traditional construction of women as li ars. He explains
their deceitful nature in terms of the ambiguity immanent to the feminine.
The question that r emained a m ystery for F reud—“What does a w oman
want?”—points, according to Ovid, to the self-contradicting feminine per-
sona.28 His claim that “they love to refuse what it pleas es them to grant”
dismisses the veracity of female response. Although women suffer griev-
ously from violent misinterpretations of their ambivalence, their ambigu-
ity paradoxically constitutes the very existence of feminine subjectivity.
and newly wed women. Traditionally, women were not expected to desire
anything be yond wha t was expected of them b y th eir f athers an d h us-
bands.29 The idealization of feminine silence reflects the general consensus
that a good w oman is a w oman with no voice, and hence with no desires
and aspirations.
One way of exploring the question of subjectivity in a g irl’s life w ould
be in terms of the momen t in which sh e a cquires h er v oice. From th e
mythological point of view, the moment when a g irl’s voice is first heard
constitutes the birth of her subjectivity. Where can we locate this mythical
stage? Myth typically ties this foundational event to a woman’s first erotic
encounter. In the various myths concerning virgins, the crucial event that
brings female identity to light is rape or, alternatively, marriage, which is
often perceived as a sublima ted form of rape. This tr adition, resting pri-
marily on the myth of Demeter and Persephone, connects the birth of the
female voice to the act of rape, which is consequently considered to be a
formative event in the life of every woman. In numerous myths involving
virgins, rape has a double meaning , creating a tension betw een rape as a
destructive event and as a forma tive one. On the one hand, it is viewed as
a tr aumatic in cident tha t cuts sh ort th e life of the v irgin. On th e oth er
hand, it marks her emergence into the public sphere as a mature adult. In
mythical accounts of the rape of virgins we thus find an ana logy between
the ambiguity of the feminine voice and the rape’s dual meaning.30
The g irl’s ambivalent r elationship toward r ape finds expr ession in th e
incredibility assigned to the girl’s voice. The victim’s voice i s often in ter-
preted as in coherent and unr eliable, precisely because of her ambivalent
response to the r ape. As long as th e question of the girl’s desire remains
open—does she resist the rape, does she consent to it as a n ecessary evil,
or does sh e, as an an cient f allacy suggests, even w elcome it? —a trust-
worthy female voice cannot be produced.31 Thus, the mythic biography of
the virgin is inseparable from the myth of the feminine voice. Myth con-
structs the rape of virgins as the moment when the feminine voice is heard
for the first time w ithin the public (ma le) sphere. Paradoxically, then, the
rape i s r esponsible for r eleasing th e fema le fr om h er psy chological an d
social constraints. She speaks out, she screams, she cries. But this fragmen-
tary s ense of freedom does n ot produce a mon olithic voice. It i s, rather,
an unreliable voice that contradicts itself and is hiding a dim, concealed,
pent-up desire.
When v iewing the myth of Demeter and Persephone as th e par adigm
of feminine biog raphy, we cannot help s eeing that r ape i s perceived as a
Feminine Subjectivity and th e Self-Contradicting Text
A virgin’s resistance to marriage stems not only from her revulsion against
men, who are perceived as an a lien, threatening force. It is also the result
of her desire to preserve a life of unrestrained freedom. To live in the for-
est as a n ymph among th e other nymphs means n ot to be ens laved to a
man an d hi s desir es but t o li ve an uninhibited life, outside th e cultur al
order represented by marriage. A girl’s desire to stay close to her mother,
to c ling to her virginity, or to play with her friends the nymphs can eas-
ily be interpreted as a threat to the culture, or as a disruption of the social
order. The ideology of marriage was, among other things, aimed at satisfy-
ing the need to restrain the voices of women, which were likely to express
desires incompatible with the existing order.34
The ancient medical attitude toward hysteria, as expressed in th e essay
“On Virgins” from th e H ippocratic c orpus (da ted t o th e four th c entury
BCE), identifies the condition with the unique physiological status of the
virgin. The ess ay’s author c laims that a v irgin’s uterus ( hystera in Greek)
accumulates blood, the root of the hysteria common to virgins. This con-
dition is described as a form of insanity. Describing how dangerous the girl
is t o h erself, the w riter a lludes t o hi s o wn fear tha t th e v irgin’s psy chic
powers will grow in th e absence of male supervision:
o9ko/tan de\ plhrwqe/wsi tau~ta ta\ me/rea, kai\ fri/kh cu\n puretw~|
a0naai/s
5 sei: planh/taj tou\j puretou\j kaleu/ousin. e0 xo/ntwn de\ toute/wn
w[de, u9po\ de\ th~j o0cuflegmasi/hj mai/netai, u9po\ de\ th~j shpedo/noj
fona~|, u9po\ de\ tou~ zoferou~ fobe/etai kai\ de/doiken, u9po\ de\ th~j peri\ th\n
kardi\hn pie/cioj a0gxo/naj krai/nousin, u9po\ de\ th~j kaki/hj tou~ a3matoj
a0lu/wn kai\ a0dhmone/wn o9 qumo\j kako\n e0fe/lketai: e3teron de\ kai\ fobera\
o0noma/zei: kai\ keleu\ousin a3llesqai kai\ katapi/ptein e0j ta\ fre/ata kai\
a1gxesqai, a3te a0mei/nona/ te e0on/ ta kai\ xrei/hn e1xonta pantoi/hn: o9ko/te de\
a1neu fantasma/twn, h9donh/ tij, a9f 0 h[j e0ra~| tou~ qana/tou w3spe/r tinoj
a0gaqou~.
(Hippocrates, Virg. .–)
[When these organs are full, shivering and fever set in. These fevers are called
erratic. In this state the woman has a fit caused by the acute inflammation;
she has murderous desires brought on by the putrid condition of her inter-
nal organs, fears and terrors when she sees shadows, and the pressure around
Feminine Subjectivity and th e Self-Contradicting Text
her heart makes her feel that she wants to strangle herself. Her mind, which
is confused and distressed because her blood has bec ome corrupt, becomes
in its turn der anged. The patient says terrible things. She has v isions which
tell h er tha t it w ould be better or w ould s erve some pur pose t o jump , to
throw herself into a well, or to strangle herself. If she does not have visions,
she feels a c ertain pleasure at the thought of death, which appears to her as
something desirable.—Trans. Aline Rouselle]35
The cur e for thi s destru ctive situa tion i s c lear t o th e w riter. “I w ould
advise young girls who suffer in thi s way to be mar ried as soon as possi-
ble; indeed, if they bec ome pr egnant th ey ar e cur ed.”36 Medical opinion
thus a lso considered the loss of virginity a n ecessary st age in a w oman’s
maturation, leading t o a pr ofound an d deci sive change in h er dev elop-
ment as a w ife an d a moth er. Yet, as i s ev ident, this change in a y oung
girl’s life is a way of silencing passions and desires that are perceived to be
dangerous and violent. There is no explicit reference in the Homeric Hymn
to Demeter to the power embodied in Persephone’s untamed virginal life.
However, the fact that the marriage to Hades, her uncle-bridegroom, was
arranged by Persephone’s father, Zeus, reveals how the marriage preserves
the patriarchal order, thus reinforcing the status of both Zeus and Hades.
From the feminine point of view, the situation is complex. The daughter’s
rape in the Hymn to Demeter is accorded not only the metonymic meaning
of marriage, but that of death as w ell. The image of Persephone’s “mar-
riage” to Hades, god of the underworld, finds considerable r esonance in
accounts of anxieties about marriage among virgins in Greek and Roman
myths. The daughters of Danaos, for example, refuse to marry their des-
ignated husbands, preferring death to the deathbed of matrimony:
[No flight
no time t o hide
Feminine Subjectivity and th e Self-Contradicting Text
sexual c onquest i s union w ith th e supr eme god, or, in oth er w ords, her
transformation into th e moth er of Zeus’s desc endants. But befor e sh e i s
able t o enjo y h er n ew r ole as a moth er, she must t ake th e first step in
separating from her virginal world, a step expr essed in h er willingness—
though, paradoxically, a step taken against her will—to become the object
of Zeus’s lustful gaze. Rape in these stories serves as a bridge to a woman’s
psychic dev elopment, since it lea ds th e s exually ig norant, inexperienced
girl to new insights about h erself.
The v irgin’s n ew a wareness i s th e r esult of her s eparation fr om h er
mother, as depicted in th e ancient tr adition’s nuptial poems. The young
woman does n ot w ish to par t from her mother and her sheltered world.
Her w edding i s usua lly for ced upon h er, as i s th e first nig ht of love.39
Ancient n uptial poems b y Sapph o, Catullus, and oth ers r eveal tha t th e
ceremonies included an element of abduction.40 And despite th e fact that
both mother and daughter resent the latter’s abduction, the Homeric Hymn
to Demeter also reveals a hidden consent to the act on the daughter’s part.
This brings about th e mother’s reconciliation with a deed tha t cannot be
undone. Persephone’s consent to the act of rape i s r elated to the process
of individuation she exper iences after h er s eparation from her mother.41
In th e m yth of Demeter an d P ersephone, the y oung w oman bec omes a
subject; for th e first time sh e i s a ccorded an iden tity di stinct fr om h er
mother’s. This happens only after sh e herself understands and accepts her
place in th e world as an object of men’s desire (Hom. Hymn Dem. –).
This ar chetypal momen t in which th e v irgin steps out in to th e public
domain takes place at a relatively late stage in her life, with her first men-
struation. Mythical thinking, in contrast to psychoanalytic theory, does not
begin by constructing a w oman’s psychic development from infancy. The
virgin’s biography begins only when she goes out to play with her friends—
that is, with the first separation between girl and mother.
The feminine psyche does not, in fact, exist prior to this stage. The fra-
gility of the girl’s being can be observed in one of Sappho’s nuptial poems:
no they have not forgotten it en tirely, but they could not r each it.—Trans.
David A. Campbell]42
new feminine consciousness. It signifies the birth of the woman out of the
virginal body . It i s a v oice w ith performa tive momen tum, a v oice tha t
declares, “I am h ere,” and so sig nifies th e emergen ce of a n ew feminin e
identity into the world. The voice of the rape victim externalizes her new
self-awareness. Her cr y i s testimony to a n ew awareness of her v isibility,
and th ereby an ann ouncement of her sy mbolic bir th. This i s a cru cial
moment when the girl expresses her will for th e first time in public. But
this is an enig matic will, with two levels of meaning: one open and obvi-
ous, the other hidden and obscure. This feminine will is an in termingled
expression of the c onscious an d un conscious. Persephone’s cr y belongs
to the entangled meaning of the hated rape-marriage, which initiates her
process of individuation, marking h er s eparation fr om h er moth er an d
crowning h er as th e un derworld’s n ew q ueen. As su ch, it par adoxically
implicates Persephone’s willingness to be r aped.
Such a possibilit y i s in deed suggested in P ersephone’s speech t o h er
mother. This oration comes at the zenith of Persephone’s process of mat-
uration and acquisition of independence, presenting as it does th e former
virgin in her new guise as a nar rator who has control over her voice. Fol-
lowing the r ape, she can put h er subjective experience into words. She is
also able to describe her experience from a personal perspective informed
by her own interests. She becomes a nar rator conscious of herself and of
her needs—what is traditionally perceived to be a manipulative narrator.43
A critical reading of the myth of Demeter cannot ignore the positive use
that th e poet mak es of rape. As in th e cas e of Aeschylus’s Io, the young
girl us es her voice for th e first time as a c onsequence of the r ape. She i s
called by her name in public an d is granted an identity separate from her
mother’s.44 Her voice consequently conveys a strange, contradictory expe-
rience: the experience that destroys her as a v irgin is the one that revives
her as a w oman.
This s elf-contradiction c onstitutes feminin e subjecti vity. Persephone’s
paradox i s cr eated by the c lash of two conflicting identities: the v irginal
and the sexual, or the inhibited an d the uninhibited. These two feminine
identities r emain v ital and active, although they forma lly per tain to two
distinct temporal stages: the present and future (from the virgin’s perspec-
tive) or th e past and present (from the woman’s perspective). Girls, then,
experience their s exual innocence as a lready tinted by anticipation of its
destruction. And s exually mature women exper ience the v itality of their
virginal consciousness as one of invisibility and voicelessness. Persephone,
for example, wants to retain her innocent v irginal nature as sh e tells h er
Feminine Subjectivity and th e Self-Contradicting Text
mother that she has been r aped and then forced to remain a third of each
year in the underworld. But her wish to retain a modest appearance before
her mother is already a sig n of the loss of that very innocence. Once she
needs to appear inn ocent, she i s no longer th e v irgin she was. Under the
gaze of the Other, the virgin is transformed into a sexual and, accordingly,
a deceiving woman.45 Feminine exper ience i s thus destined to be an un-
ceasing clash between two dimensions of being.
This tension w ithin th e feminin e has a str ong textua l sig nificance. In
the c ontext of Ovid, it finds its expr ession in th e wa y Ars and Remedia
open up a reading experience that is cyclical and unending. In addition to
the structure of contradiction, circularity is another feminine aspect of the
Ovidian love guides. His circular love narrative reenacts the myth of Per-
sephone, embracing its a ura of feminine temporality. In echoing nature’s
rhythm, Ovid’s narrative revives the myth of the seasons.
Ovid’s version of the myth of Proserpina in Metamorphoses allows us
to underscore this point. He creates an archetypal feminine biography by
focusing on P roserpina’s divided self. Her dual nature rests on h er mood
swings an d on th e sy mbolic in terplay of life an d dea th, marriage an d
maidenhood, and darkness and light:
In per petual oscilla tion betw een tw o opposing modes of being, Proser-
pina’s biog raphy i s a suit able candidate for th e Ov idian lo ve nar rative.46
The possibilit y of embracing the a lternating conditions of the death and
the growth of love in a c easeless cycle is a c orollary of the feminine con-
dition in gen eral.
chapter
Pandora’s Tears
The personal is like an old scar tha t, for the external viewer, is no more
than a f act among f acts, yet one that, in the hands of the old ma id
Euryclea, pulsates as th e very root of recognition: isn’t this you,
Odysseus? The personal is the hidden face of language.
— , The Present Personal
Pandora’s Tears
retexit opus (“This new Muse does not unravel [unweave] my past work,”
Rem. ).7 Completely a ware of the c omplex stru cture tha t bin ds hi s
works, Ovid assures his readers that Remedia does not consist in a decom-
position of Ars. Unlike Penelope’s cunning un doing of her w ork, Ovid’s
Remedia is n ot an a ct of unweaving. Should it th erefore be un derstood
as a c ontinued w eaving of Ars? The double meaning of the term retexo
complicates Ov id’s gestur e. What i s th e r elationship betw een th e a ct of
unweaving and the act of weaving again? Leaving this question open, it is
sufficient for our pur pose to recognize that, for Ov id, what ti es together
the texts of Ars and Remedia is, metaphorically, the working of the warp
and woof.
In Ov id’s Metamorphoses, the connection between textile an d text be-
comes more explicit an d turns in to a sig nificant theme. Books – pres-
ent collections of feminine stories that are either told by weaving women
or thr ough th e v ery medium of weaving. The t ypical feminin e a ctivity
of weaving creates a c ommunity of storytellers and listeners. Particularly
noteworthy in thi s context are the tales of two f amous weavers, Arachne
(Met. .–) and Philomela ( Met. .–), whose textiles ar e r eflec-
tive of the character of Ovid’s own textuality.
Mirroring the Ov idian text in which sh e appears, Arachne i s a w eaver
who creates subversive and provocative tales in which the phenomenon of
metamorphosis is central: virgins changed into women, mothers of divine
children. Furthermore, Arachne’s depiction of the gods (lik e Ov id’s) em-
phasizes their sensual, violent, and immoral aspects: her gods are woman-
izers who brutally violate virgins. Her sentiments are f ar from respectful
toward religious authority and tend toward the sensational and the blas-
phemous. And, finally, Arachne’s confrontation w ith the rule of Minerva
and h er puni shment b y th e so vereign suggest a feminin e r eflection of
Ovid’s own biography.8
The image of Philomela functions in a different manner, allowing Ovid
to r ender explicit an other impor tant dimension of his poetics. 9 Unlike
Arachne’s, Philomela’s w eaving has n o c oncern for th e c osmological or
divine order. It i s str ictly autobiographical, consisting of a h orrific st ory
of rape and mutilation. Philomela is a victim. She weaves the story of her
misfortune with crimson threads on white—the symbolism is clear. From
her place of confinement, she secretly sends her tapestry to her sister, her
only h ope. Her w eaving i s a mess age fr om on e w oman t o an other. As
she cannot write, her weaving consists of visual images that are neverthe-
less read (legere) by her sister. Adverting to the visual is, of course, not an
Pandora’s Tears
H’ W
As we proceed to unravel the significance that the image of feminine weav-
ing car ries for th e making of a text, it i s perhaps impor tant that we di s-
tinguish between two kinds of weaving and, in corollary fashion, between
two archetypal kinds of women weavers. Our primary concern is the form
of weaving that is analogous to a text ’s form because of its ability to rep-
resent, tell stories, and evoke images. However, we should remember that
alongside the “textual textile” there is a common practice of weaving that
lacks representational qualities.14 This kind of nonrepresentational weav-
ing, devoid of a figurative dimension, is typically associated with the fem-
inine figure of the “home-dwelling” weaver.15 “Here lies Amymone wife of
Marcus,” we read in a first-century BCE Roman epitaph (ILS .L), “best
and most beautiful worker in wool, pious, chaste, thrifty, faithful, a stayer-
at-home.”16 Sitting a lone in fr ont of her loom w ith spin dle an d di staff,
segregated from the public field of vision, this typical weaver has become
the quintessential symbol of female chastity—faithful, obedient, diligent,
submissive, and ultimately silent.
Pandora’s Tears
th\n d' eu(=r' e)n mega/rw|: h(\ de\ me/gan i(sto\n u(/faine
di/plaka porfure/hn, pole/aj d' e)ne/passen a)e/qlouj
Trw/wn q' i(ppoda/mwn kai\ )Axaiw=n xalkoxitw/nwn,
ou4j e3qen ei3nek 0 e1pasxon u9p 0 1Arhoj palama/wn:
(I. .–)
Indeed, we can hardly infer anything specific from the description of Helen’s
“great web.” We can neither deduce the identity of the figures depicted nor
construe any particular event or situation in which they are involved. The
only par ticular feature of Helen’s depiction of the war tha t ca lls for our
attention is the fact that her perspective on the war is completely personal.
Her weaving does not involve any objective representation of a given state
of affairs; it is a r epresentation of a war wh ose meaning, for her, is thor-
oughly autobiographical. It s eems that the Homeric nar rator i s s ensitive
to Helen’s personal involvement in the web she creates: the war she depicts
cannot be understood as the general story about the “struggles of Trojans,
breakers of horses, and bronze-armoured Achaians.” Instead, it is her own
story that she is engaged in depicting—the story of the “struggles that they
[Trojans an d Achaians] en dured for her sake. ”21 Helen’s w eaving ar ticu-
lates the external state of things—the events in th e world of men—while
positing her own s elf as the (invisible) center of gravity, the foca l point,
of the w orld sh e depicts. In thi s r espect, Helen’s pr esence in th e Iliad is
subversive, as it ca lls in to q uestion th e absolute h egemony of the text ’s
metaphysical origin, its emanation from the sacred rapport between poet
and Muses. Her weaving marks, in other words, the presence of a hermetic
dimension that also belongs to the text and that can easily pass unnoticed
precisely because it appears as th e text’s texture—its handmade quality.
Pandora’s Tears
For whom does Helen weep? Does she weep for Hector, the intended ref-
erence of her text, or is her weeping reflexive, turning back onto her own
forsaken life? Both, I beli eve—Helen mourns for h erself in mourning
Hector. Or, in oth er w ords, she mourns “her” Hector. For H elen, losing
Hector means losing h er sole fr iend and protector, the only guar dian she
ever had in Troy. In confronting his death, she is lamenting her own mis-
erable f ate. Her a ddress t o th e dea d H ector i s a form of self-disclosure.
Thus, she replaces the internal addressee of her speech, “dear Hector,” with
a s elf-referential turn, “I sh ould ha ve di ed.”26 Hector i s H elen’s mir ror
image. His death is a reminder of her own fragility and of the presence of
death in h er life.
In a mann er tha t i s similar t o h er r epresentation, in w eaving, of the
war, Helen’s language of lament does n ot s eek t o captur e th e objecti ve
condition of Hector’s dea th. She i s c oncerned n either w ith hi s pa inful
absence—the only pa in sh e can a cknowledge i s h er o wn—nor w ith th e
effect of his dea th on hi s in timate an d gen eral sur roundings, his f amily
and the city of Troy. Instead, she speaks w ithin horizons that are suffused
with her own presence. Her shadow is cast over the domain of her speech.
When she looks at the dead Hector, she sees herself. In this respect, Helen
exemplifies wha t i s perhaps less c onspicuous in th e r epresentation of
numerous other lamenting women in the Iliad. Her address to the dead is
a channel for expressing her own grief,27 for giving voice to an absence that
typically cannot register within the public order of men’s language. Lamen-
tation cr eates an aper ture in th e order of discourse. It a llows women to
address the world at the moment of a loss of world: to communicate mean-
ings tha t belong t o th e w orld, while kn owing tha t thi s w orld w ill n ever
be th eirs. In oth er w ords, lamentation i s an ev ent of meaning in which
the feminine reveals its constant presence in the language of men through
the disclosure of irresolvable tensions tha t are always inherent in th e act
of language: the public and the private, the general and the utterly singu-
lar, the abstr act and the concrete, the hi storical or c osmological and the
autobiographical.
Pandora’s Tears
[So let y our heart and let y our spirit be har dened to listen.
Odysseus is not the only on e who lost hi s homecoming
day at Troy. There were many others who perished, besides him.]
[He sang then how the sons of the Achaians left th eir hollow
hiding place and streamed from the horse and sacked the city,
and he sang how one and another fought through the steep cit adel,
and how in par ticular Odysseus went, with godlike
Menelaos, like Ares, to find the house of Deiphobos,
and there, he said, he endured the grimmest fighting that ever
he had, but won it th ere too, with great-hearted Athene aiding.
So the famous singer s ang his tale, but Odysseus
melted, and from under his eyes the tears r an down, drenching
his cheeks. As a w oman weeps, lying over the body
of her great husband, who fell fighting for h er city and people
as he tried to beat off the pitiless da y from city and children;
she sees him dy ing and gasping for br eath, and winding her body
about him sh e cries high and shrill, while the men behin d her,
hitting her with their spear butts on th e back and the shoulders,
force her up an d lead her away into slavery, to have
hard work and sorrow, and her cheeks are wracked with pitiful w eeping.
Such were the pitiful tears Odyss eus shed from under
his brows, but they went unnoticed by all the others.]
X’ T
Homer was the first authority to make the connection between a personal
response to poetr y and the feminine. This connection r ests on th e ana l-
ogy between the response to poetry and the response of a female mourner
to the death of a beloved person. As we have seen, however, for the Home-
ric narrator, the appearance of the feminine voice is always shrouded with
ambivalence. In oth er w ords, the Homeric gestur e tha t inscr ibes for th e
feminine voice an a utonomous place i s a lso the one that ultimately con-
tests the legitimacy of the feminine as a bearer of genuine poetic value. The
history of Western thought is replete with this kind of ambivalence toward
the feminine and its abilit y to participate in and contribute to the field of
Pandora’s Tears
[We will beg Homer and the other poets not to be ang ry if we cancel those
and a ll similar pass ages, not that they ar e not poetic an d pleasing t o most
Pandora’s Tears
hearers, but because the more poetic they are the less ar e they suited to the
ears of boys and men wh o are destined to be fr ee and to be mor e afraid of
slavery than of death.—Trans. Paul Shorey.]39
to the education of the free born.” For Plutarch Lycian practice reflects the
true nature of excessive emotions:
qh~lu ga\r o1ntwj kai\ a0sqene\j kai\ a0genne\v to\ penqei~n: gunai~kej ga\r
a0ndrw~n ei0si filopenqe/sterai kai\ oi9 ba/rbaroi tw~n 9Ellh/nwn kai' oi9
xei/rouj a1ndrej tw~n a0meino/nwn.
(Plutarch, Letter to Apollonius .)
[Yes, mourning is verily feminine, and weak, and ignoble, since women are
more given to it than men, and barbarians more than G reeks, and inferior
men more than better men. —Trans. Frank Cole Babbitt] 41
Plutarch sees the feminine as a mark er for th e soul’s lower faculties. This
somewhat odd anecdote about Lycian mourning customs merely reaffirms
his own understanding of the nature of women. What Plutarch seems less
prone to admit is that legislating mourning in female disguise means that
the feminine not only functions as a way of releasing the Lycian men from
their pain; it becomes the model for th e exposure of masculine emotion-
ality. Despite the exclusion of the feminine from the core of men’s world,
the Lycians s eem t o be depen dent on it in or der t o f ace an d exper ience
one of the most crucial dimensions of that world—death. In this respect,
Plutarch’s an ecdote c ontains mor e than it a dmits. Plutarch r egards th e
Lycian custom as a demonstr ation of women’s inferior public stature, but
doesn’t s eem t o r ecognize tha t hi s an ecdote exempli fies a public sph ere
that, in fact, functions under the sign of the feminine.
Whereas for Plutarch the dialectical relationship between masculine and
feminine seems to pass unnoticed, the Platonic text displays its awareness
of this dialectics, turning it in to one of the most di stinctive marks of the
Socratic dialogue. Here, Plato’s Phaedo, with its strong emotional impact,
provides a good case in point. “I was there, Echerates,”42 says Phaedo, open-
ing the dialogue named after him (Phd. a). He was there “with Socrates
on the day he drank the poison in th e prison,” and he is intent on telling
“everything from the beginning” (c). This beginning, the dialogue’s first
dramatic sc ene, consists of the ar rival of Socrates’ friends an d di sciples
at hi s pr ison c ell. “On en tering,” they find “Socrates just fr eed fr om hi s
chains, and X anthippe . . . sitting beside him . . . holding hi s bab y son”
(a). The dialogue ends with the dramatic scene of Socrates drinking the
poison, his friends weeping, Socrates’ last words, his death, “the end of our
friend, the first man . . . of all whom we came to know in hi s generation;
the wisest too, and the most r ighteous” (a).
Pandora’s Tears
What unfolds between Phaedo’s beginning and end, between the image
of Socrates’ baby son (birth) and the image of his own dying, is, as is usual
for Plato, a conversation. Emotionally Phaedo is clearly one of Plato’s most
moving w orks, but th e di alogue’s philosophica l c ontent s eems t o poin t
in th e opposite dir ection. The c ore of the c onversation i s dedica ted t o
the immortality of the soul, the liberation of the soul fr om the body, the
philosopher’s commitment to that liberation, and finally an explication of
Socrates’ tranquility, perhaps even joy, in the f ace of death. In these inti-
mate and sorrowful of moments, Socrates engages his disciples in a discus-
sion that is meant to explain the sense in which, for the true philosopher,
life is a training for death and death the place in which the soul can finally
celebrate its freedom from the burdens of the body. Phaedo focuses on the
immortal nature of the soul and the philosophical possibility of emancipa-
tion from the world of appearance, but it is just as much a dialogue about
mourning. Indeed, it presents an exemplar y form of mourning.
In thi s context it i s par ticularly impor tant to notice that the feminine
explicitly figures here in two ways. We have already mentioned Xanthippe,
who i s pr esent in th e c ompany of Socrates an d fr iends. But befor e di s-
cussing her actual role in th e di alogue, let us turn first to another femi-
nine figure whose function i s more met aphorical. As Socr ates elabor ates
on the philosophical task of delivering the soul from its bodily pr ison, he
alludes in passing t o the figure of Penelope.
a)ll' ou(/tw logi/sait' a)\n yuxh\ a)ndro\j filoso/fou, kai\ ou)k a)\n oi)hqei/h
th\n me\n filosofi/an xrh=nai au)th\n lu/ein, luou/shj de\ e)kei/nhj, au)th\n
paradido/nai tai=j h(donai=j kai\ lu/paij e(auth\n pa/lin au)= e)gkatadei=n
kai\ a)nh/nuton e)/rgon pra/ttein Phnelo/phj tina\ e)nanti/wj i(sto\n
metaxeirizome/nhj, a)lla\ galh/nhn tou/twn paraskeua/zousa, e(pome/nh
tw=| logismw=| kai\ a)ei\ e)n tou/tw| ou)=sa, to\ a)lhqe\j kai\ to\ qei=on kai\ to\
a)do/caston qewme/nh kai\ u9p 0 e0kei/nou trefome/nh.
(Phd. a)
[The soul of a philosopher will reflect as we have said, and will not suppose
that, while it i s the task of philosophy to secure its r elease, it should thwart
that t ask b y sur rendering its elf to pleasur es an d pa in, and so r elapse in to
its old imprisonment, like Penelope at the interminable task of undoing her
web; rather will it abate the storm of desire by taking reason as its guide and
constant companion, by contemplating the utter c ertainty of divine reality
and finding sustenance therein.]
Pandora’s Tears
that he has heard her is to turn to a friend: “Crito,” he says, “someone had
better t ake her hom e.” Xanthippe leaves the room “sobbing and lament-
ing” (a ).
Why i sn’t Xanthipe’s speech a llowed into the space of dialogue so im-
portant for th e Socr atic eth os? I n wha t s ense does h er s aying belong t o
“the sor t of thing tha t w omen a lways s ay”? H ow does h er speech di ffer
from th e speech of men? Does it di ffer from th e language of men? And,
finally, why is Xanthippe excluded from the last gathering of Socrates and
friends?
Xanthippe’s w ords car ry an a ir of sentimentality tha t ir ritates—that
seems too loud—for the manly bonding of philosophers. Perhaps it is her
insistence on th e finality of the philosophical dialogue, her acceptance of
the finitude of the human conversation, that a ttracts th e h ostility of the
philosopher who believes in the eternal journey of the soul and the after-
life of words. How should we understand her role in thi s scene?
Xanthippe i s a figure wh ose ex clusion marks th e opening a ct of the
dialogue. It i s only wh en she leaves “sobbing and lamenting” that an ex-
ploration of true—philosophical—mourning can beg in. Her exclusion is
not an arbitrary turn in the Platonic narrative, but rather a literary gesture
that carries symbolic value. But what exactly is the value of that exclusion?
Should we understand Xanthippe as a feminine image of the antiphilosoph-
ical that, as such, must be excluded as a condition for a philosophical begin-
ning? Is she merely a negative example for Plato? This is how Cavarero, for
example, seems to read her figure: Xanthippe serves Plato in demarcating
the place of the “bad philosoph er” who oper ates w ithin a pictur e of the
world tha t i s ess entially feminine. “For Xanthippe,” she w rites, “Socrates
simply di es: he i s no mor e. She knows nothing of the split betw een soul
and body, and simply st ays w ithin th e exper ience of her in dividual life
where mind and body ar e joined indissolubly together.”46
Indeed, Xanthippe’s sole utter ance in th e di alogue s eems focus ed on
the “here an d n ow” without an y a cknowledgment of a possible h orizon
of transcendence. But is she simply an example of a feminine worldview,
a language, a kin d of speech tha t th e tru e philosoph er sh ould a void? I f
Xanthippe’s perspecti ve i s un educational, why doesn ’t Pla to follo w hi s
own advice in Republic and free his text from her feminine presence in the
first place?
We may begin answering these questions by recalling that exclusion is
a common strategy in Plato.47 More specifically, we may want to recall that
the beginning of the philosophical conversation on love in Symposium e
Pandora’s Tears
oi(=a, e)/fh, poiei=te, w)= qauma/sioi. e)gw\ me/ntoi ou)x h(/kista tou/tou e(/neka
ta\j gunai=kaj a)pe/pemya, i(n/ a mh\ toiau=ta plhmmeloi=en: kai\ ga\r a)kh/koa
o(/ti e)n eu)fhmi/a| xrh\ teleuta=n. a)ll' h(suxi/an te a)/gete kai\ karterei=te.
(Phd. d)
[My dear good people, what a wa y to behave! Why, it was chi efly to avoid
such a laps e that I s ent the women away; for I was a lways told that a man
ought to die in peace and quiet. Come, calm yourselves and do not give way.]
Socrates’ logos is effective. The crying stops. Yet his explicit request to stop
the cr ying, just like the need to exclude Xanthippe, is a manifest ation of
a fun damental dimension of human exper ience tha t i s a lways a lready
there and tha t cannot be for ced out of the space of reason. This i s pr e-
cisely wh y th e figure o f women re surfaces h ere, and X anthippe ret urns.
“It was chiefly to avoid such a lapse that I sent the women away,” Socrates
explains. But hi s explana tion s eems t o w ork aga inst its elf, since it only
underscores the constant reverberation of the feminine in th e dialogue.
Socrates puts an end t o crying. His g aze functions as a mir ror for his
disciples, opening a course of reflective transformation. Seeing Socrates see
them, seeing themselv es in his e yes, his disciples embr ace the imperativ e
of overco ming the lo wer p owers of the ag itated soul. T he immediate
impact of the Socratic gaze is—as reported also by Alcibiades in the Sym-
posium—shame: kai\ h(mei=j a)kou/santej h)|sxu/nqhme/n te kai\ e)pe/sxomen
tou= dakru/ein. (“We felt ashamed and c eased t o weep,” Phd. e). The
momentary silence may well testify to the manner in which Phaedo and
friends have internalized Socrates’ ethical demand. At the same time, how-
ever, we should also notic e that the silenc e imposed on Socrates ’ fr iends
carries a distincti ve literar y e ffect. A literar y de vice is needed to achieve
the closure of the dialogue in a mesmer izing serenity, following Socrates’
process of dying. For the dialogue ’s participants the end of weeping ma y
imply the possibilit y of overco ming their emotions; for the r eader, it
demonstrates the impossibility of releasing the literar y text from its emo-
tional underpinnings.
The absence of the feminine nevertheless leaves an irremovable imprint
of pain in th e text. The tr agedy of losing Socr ates has a ph ysicality tha t
is r egistered in th e body. Well a ware of this feminin e dimension, Plato
makes a pla ce for it in th e tears hi s text simult aneously forbids and wel-
comes. In other words, at the moment when Socrates’ disciples succeed in
suppressing th eir tears, the pa inful a ffect of the text i s wh olly deposited
Pandora’s Tears
in the hands of the r eader, for whom tears bec ome the most na tural r e-
sponse. The tension between the two states—incontinent, feminine weep-
ing and reflective, philosophical self-possession—is never resolved in thi s
dialogue. When Phaedo an d fr iends cease to weep, it i s the r eader’s turn
to begin.
Epilogue
Epilogue
The aim of masculine interpretation is to draw the logos from the muthos.
Therefore, once the men capture the painting’s hidden meaning, they lose
interest in th e painting itself. This is c learly not the case with the female
viewer, Leucippe, who insi sts on embr acing wha t sh e s ees an d making
sense of precisely wha t meets th e e ye. She does n ot par ticipate in th e
men’s game of interpretation, but she is nevertheless intensely involved in
the exper ience of looking. As sh e tr ies t o understand wha t sh e s ees, she
turns t o h er lo ver w ith a r equest for informa tion about th e st ory in th e
painting. Achilles Tatius characterizes Leucippe’s gaze as motivated by the
desire for a v ivid an d c oncrete nar rative. And, according t o him, this i s
completely t ypical: “For there i s something in th e nature of women that
clearly loves a t ale” (philomuthon gar po s to ton gunaikon ge nos, ..).
Pandora’s Senses is an investigation of a dimension of the text that seems
to have been marginalized in antiquity because of its association with the
category of the feminine. However, in focusing on the construction of these
Epilogue
I
1. Berger, “The Latest Word from Echo,” –.
2. Salzman-Mitchell, A Web of Fantasies, .
3. Bergren, “Helen’s Web,” –; Bergren, “Language and the Female in Early
Greek Thought,” –.
4. DuBois, “Sappho and Helen,” –.
5. DuBois, “Sappho and Helen”; Winkler, “Gardens of Nymphs.”
6. Worman, “The Body as Argument,” ; see also Austin, Helen of Troy and
Her Shameless Phantom.
7. Doherty, “Putting the Woman Back into the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women,”
.
8. Richlin, Pornography and R epresentation in G reece and R ome, .
9. Richlin, “The E thnographer’s Dilemma an d th e Dr eam of a Lost Golden
Age,” .
10. Plato, Phaedrus, trans. R. Hackforth, in The Collected Dialogues of Plato, ed.
Hamilton and Cairns.
11. Cavarero, In Spite of Plato: A F eminist R ewriting of Ancient Phil osophy;
Kofman, L’enigme de l a femme; Gallop, The Father’s Seduction.
12. Zajko and Leonard, Laughing with Medusa, .
13. Spentzou and Fowler, eds., Cultivating the Muse.
14. Spentzou, Readers and Writers in Ovid’s Heroides; Salzman-Mitchell, A Web
of Fantasies.
15. E.g., Loraux, The Childr en of Athena; Bassi, “Helen an d th e Di scourse of
Denial in Stesich orus’ Palinode”; Zeitlin, Playing the Other.
16. “The figure of Pandora combines all the tensions an d ambivalences.” Ver-
nant, Myth and So ciety in Ancient Greece, .
17. Pucci, Hesiod and th e Language of Poetry.
Notes to P ages –
his idiosyn cratic tr eatment of the m yth became a uthoritative. The P andora of
Theogony and Works and Da ys is uniq uely Hesiod’s. A similar cas e i s Apuleius’s
tale of Amor and Psyche in The Golden Ass, of which no other versions in an tiq-
uity ar e known. Although the story bears w ell-known mythological and folkt ale
patterns, it is nevertheless identified as Apuleius’s.
6. Vernant, Myth and So ciety in Ancient Greece.
7. Ibid., –. See th e comprehensive r eappraisal of Vernant’s stru cturalist
reading of Hesiod’s myth of Pandora in Csapo, Theories of Mythology, –. Ver-
nant returns to the figure of the first woman in a r ecently published collection of
essays: “Pandora,” in Lissarrague and Schmitt, eds., Ève et Pandora, –.
8. Vernant, Myth and So ciety in Ancient G reece, –. Vernant does n ot
address the interesting dissimilarities between the two Hesiodic versions in c on-
nection w ith th e P andora epi sode. As N icole Lor aux has sh own, in Works and
Days Pandora almost gains human status by means of the dichotomy between her
body and soul; in Theogony, she r emains a st atic v isual image. This difference i s
significant in determining th e meaning tha t each of these Hesiodic w orks s eeks
to expr ess through the figure of Pandora. See the r elevant di scussion in Lor aux,
The Children of Athena, .
9. For example, Irigaray, Speculum of the Other Woman.
10. Vernant, Myth and So ciety in Ancient Greece, .
11. See Derrida, “Différance.”
12. Pucci, Hesiod and th e Language of Poetry, .
13. Ibid., –. Pucci’s ana lysis i s bas ed on th e two versions of Pandora in
the Hesiodic corpus.
14. Reprinted in Zeitlin, Playing the Other, . “Travesties of Gender and Genre
in Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazousae” was first published in Foley, ed., Reflections
of Women in Antiquity, –.
15. Zeitlin, Playing the Other, –.
16. Zeitlin di scusses th ese c onventions of the mi sogynist tr adition in “The
Dynamics of Misogyny,” in Playing th e Oth er, –; it was first publi shed in
Arethusa (): –.
17. See Zeitlin, Playing the Other, especially –.
18. Ibid., .
19. Loraux, The Children of Athena, –.
20. Recent interpretations examine the Pandora epi sode in th e larger c ontext
of the hi story of the n otion of images in an tiquity. See, for example, Sharrock,
“The Love of Creation,” –; Steiner, Images in M ind, –, –.
21. DuBois, “Eros and the Woman,” .
22. All translations in thi s book ar e mine unless oth erwise noted.
23. M. L. West r emarks on lin es –: “These tw o lin es ar e ig nored b y Pl.
Symp. B and Arist. Metaph. a”; he argues for their authenticity in his edi-
tion of Theogony, –.
Notes to P ages –
24. For a di fferent interpretation of the primordial Eros, see Vernant, “One . . .
Two . . . Three: Eros,” –.
25. While Eros denotes the general notion of desire, Himeros conveys a mor e
specific, irresistible, and strong sexual desire.
26. And s ee Claude Ca lame’s tr eatment of the r elationship between Eros and
Aphrodite in The Poetics of Eros in Ancient Greece, –.
27. At this cosmological stage, Eros’s association with Aphrodite suppresses its
primordial meaning as th e formless sour ce of beauty. As a subject of Aphrodite,
Eros comes to signify the attraction to beauty.
28. On the general di stribution of feminine powers among th e gods in Theo-
gony, see Arthur, “Cultural Strategies in Hesiod’s Theogony,” – and specifically
on the “feminized” form of Eros.
29. In a ddition t o Ga ia as a feminin e pr inciple of motherhood, the figure of
Hecate i s no less impor tant ( Th. –). Hecate, like Gaia, represents a gen era-
tive power, though a c ompletely di fferent one. On Hecate’s function as a kouro-
trophos, a nurse of the young, see Zeitlin, Playing the Other, –. Gaia and Hecate
represent the maternal aspect of femininity, which Theogony denies the figures of
Aphrodite and Pandora, thus establishing the traditional opposition betw een the
figure of the mother and the figure of the s eductive woman. On the cr eation of
feminine identities b y canonical ma le authors s ee Gilber t and Gubar, The Mad-
woman in th e Attic.
30. Oaros is essentially feminine talk, as the meaning of oar (“wife”) indicates.
31. See, for example, Semonides’ logoi aphrodisioi (.–), characterizing fem-
inine talk.
32. In Works and Da ys Aphrodite plays a sig nificant role in shaping P andora’s
beauty. Yet even in that version Pandora is, first and foremost, the result of a male
conceptualization.
33. On th e r elationship betw een Aphrodite an d P andora as di srupting th e
primal harmony that reigns among men in H esiod’s Theogony, see duBois, “Eros
and th e Woman,” – and especi ally . A. S. Brown sh ows h ow P andora’s
visuality in H esiod’s works manifests an in tentional resemblance to the figure of
the golden Aphrodite, as pr incipally di splayed in P andora’s golden di adem. See
Brown, “Aphrodite and the Pandora Complex,” –.
34. On the structural similarity between the bir th of Aphrodite and the bir th
of Pandora, see Schwabl, Hesiods Theogonie: Eine unitar ische Analyse, .
35. This feminin e lin e i s suggested b y Ann L. T. Bergren in “The H omeric
Hymn to Aphrodite,” –.
36. Examining th e st ory of Pandora as th e or igin m yth of misogyny, Jens
Holzhausen asks: “Warum hat Zeus es zugelassen, da? Prometheus in dieser Weise
den gewünschten Ausgleich w ieder aufhebt? Warum hat er s einem Gegenspi eler,
den ihn betrogen hat, nicht sofort gefesselt und bereits nach seiner ersten List un-
schädlich gemacht?” Holzhausen points out that since Zeus knew of Prometheus’s
Notes to P ages –
50. Thaumasia refers to the many wild creatures. The visual emphasis is on the
diadem’s motifs, which ar e descr ibed as s eeming lik e ( eoikota) cr eatures w ith
voices (zooisin phoneesin).
51. Thauma thnetoisi brotoisi (“a wonder for mor tal human beings”).
52. Ann L. T. Bergren and Froma Zeitlin note the connection between the sema
and P andora. Bergren, “Language an d th e F emale in E arly G reek Th ought,” ;
Zeitlin, Playing the Other, .
53. Cf. West, ed., Theogony.
54. See ibid. on thi s line and the ana logous example fr om the Homeric epic.
55. This fea ture i s a lso cru cial t o th e descr iption of Pandora in Works and
Days. Considering the di fferent st ages of her cr eation there (–), we s ee that
the gods’ concern i s to arouse the consciousness of men toward the mechani sm
of their human senses, especially seeing and hearing.
56. Loraux, The Children of Athena, , examines the ancient Greek notion of
autochthony by juxtaposing the myth of Pandora and the myth of Erichthonios.
“Pandora and E richthonios—the couple, whether well or ba dly matched, that de-
clares the Athenian asymmetry between citizens, andres Athenaioi, and ‘women.’”
57. On Pandora’s role in separating men from gods, see Holzhausen, “Das ‘Übel’
der Frauen,” –.
58. Bachelard, The Poetics of Reverie, .
59. As Loraux observes, after Pandora men are no longer ca lled by the general
term for h umankind, anthrophoi; now they are individual men, andres. “She sep-
arates th em fr om th emselves, since sh e in troduces s exuality, that asy mmetry of
self and other . . . the dreaded effects of woman and the word gyne: the woman
is no sooner named than th e anthropoi are transformed into andres. And so th ey
remain.” See The Children of Athena, .
used the word in its usua l meaning; but we will show that this ‘difference’ oper-
ates in the text as ‘difference and deferral’ in the special sense elaborated by Der-
rida. We have a lready hin ted a t thi s s ense wh en w e demonstr ated tha t Hesiod’s
statement impli es th e abs ence of an ‘original’ signified. Truth, which a ccording
to Hesiod should be th e source of his song, appears in r eality to be wh olly con-
tained within his logos, inscribed in it: it is like a dubbing w ithout original track,
like an imitation of that which is forever absent, like assimilation of an ‘original.’”
Ibid., .
12. Or it is also the inspiration of the kings who, with sweet and straight words,
address their subjects ( Th. –).
13. Hesiod in f act de fines th e tw o kin ds of poetry as ca tegorically di fferent
from ea ch oth er. Pucci’s un derstanding of a lost di vine sour ce of truth tha t
inspires di fferent h uman a ttempts a t r eproduction s eems t o be c loser t o Pla to’s
hierarchical series of inspired reproductions. As suggested by the metaphor of the
magnet in Ion, there i s a hi erarchical relationship between the highest poetr y of
the M uses, the inspir ed poetr y of the epic poets, and, finally, the inspir ed per-
formance of the rhapsodes ( Ion d–e). In my view, however, Hesiod’s poetic
notion in Theogony cannot r eflect su ch a hi erarchy. As I w ish t o sh ow, Hesiod
does not present divine and truthful poetr y with its mer e pale human imitation.
Rather, in the preface of Theogony, he elaborates two distinct kinds of poetics.
14. Although H esiod r emains r espectful of the M uses, his a ddress t o th em
(W&D –) i s r ather sh ort an d forma l. He a cknowledges th eir in fluence o n
human creativity and dedicates to them the tripod he won in th e poetry contest,
but hi s gratitude i s ceremonial and religious (W&D –). In thi s poem h e i s
a devotee of the Muses, but he does n ot confuse their divine patronage w ith hi s
own poetic a uthority.
15. Compare, for example, poetry that aspir es to the divine omnipotent per-
spective. See Iliad .–.
16. We should notice that Theogony and Works and Days present two different
pictures of the r elationship betw een poetr y an d tempor ality. In Theogony, the
Muses are associated with the knowledge of the present, leaving the past an d the
future for human poetry (Th. –). In Works and Days, Hesiod rivals the Muses’
competence by a llowing human poetr y to dwell in th e present. Nevertheless, we
also need to notice that the “present” dealt with by human poetry is different from
the one serving as th e subject of divine poetr y. For divine poetr y, the present is,
in essence, eternal. It is not part of what appears t o humans as a chr onology, but
encapsulates harmonious ly th e di fferent aspects of temporality. In c ontrast, the
human poetical form of Works and Da ys is based on th e common identification
of the present with the experience of the “now.”
17. Moses Finley, in an ar ticle examining ancient and modern Utopias, distin-
guishes between Utopia and the myth of the Garden of Eden. While Utopia posits
“a goal towards which one may legitimately and hopefully strive,” the myth of the
Notes to P ages –
39. This th esis w ould be elabor ated b y Longus in Daphnis and Chl oe, which
portrays a lo ve r elationship that r equires the medi ation of techne, since the two
lovers di scover themselves to be unable t o function w ithin the instinctive world
of nature.
12. The husband’s goa l i s likewise achieved, since the educated w ife i s r ecog-
nized as ha ving attained a masculin e understanding (andrike dianoia, Oec. .).
Having a masculine understanding does not mean, however, that Ischomachus has
created a doubled self or that his wife has turned into a male. She has, rather, par-
tially assimila ted, or bec ome f amiliar w ith, the va lues of masculinity. And w ith
this familiarization she is granted a v oice of her own.
13. Ischomachus teaches his wife that man, in contrast to woman, works out-
side: “I think the god, from the very beginning, designed the nature of woman for
the indoor work and concerns and the nature of man for the outdoor work” (Oec.
.). The opposition betw een male and female is explained through the opposi-
tion betw een outside an d inside, and th en thr ough man’s physical str ength and
woman’s complementary weakness. Furthermore, motherhood and the instinctive
care of children str engthen th e associ ation of the w oman w ith th e h ome, while
the abs ence of such instin cts t ogether w ith ma le agg ressiveness w ould s eem t o
corroborate his natural place outdoors (Oec. .).
14. Yet we might regard the marital promise of endowing the wife with respon-
sibility over the household as seductive, much as Hades’ promise that Persephone
would bec ome th e q ueen of the un derworld ma y be in dicative of his appea l t o
her.
15. The reference to Ischomachus as Xenophon’s alter ego is made by Pomeroy,
Xenophon, Oeconomicus, .
16. This betr ayal i s sy mbolically r eenacted in mar riages b y th e depar ture of
man and woman from their parents’ homes.
17. Consider tr aditional judgments that associ ate Xenophon’s st yle of writing
with simplicit y, purity, honesty, and la ck of artifice: Pomeroy, Xenophon, Oeco-
nomicus, –.
18. See Michel Foucault on thi s passage in The Use of Pleasure, –.
19. Stewart, Art, Desire, and the Body in Ancient Greece, .
20. Stewart (ibid., ) argues that nakedness i s the exclusive sig n of the ma le
from the late eighth century on.
21. To Pla utus’s a udience th ese i ssues r eflected a cur rent public deba te o ver
the Oppi an la w ( BCE), which r estricted th e luxur y of women’s c ostumes,
forbidding th em t o o wn mor e than ha lf an oun ce of gold jew elry an d/or w ear
purple-dyed clothing (purpura). See Livy, History of Rome, ..
22. See the discussion of the “Anti-Cosmetic” tradition and the bibliography in
Gibson, Ars Amatoria Book , –.
23. Hamilton, The Architecture of Hesiodic Poetry, –.
24. Pandora i s an image of poetry; specifically, her dua lity may be c ompared
to the dual effects of poetry—pain and pleasure, memory and forgetfulness—that
characterize the voice of Hesiod’s Muses and Homer’s Sirens. On the relationship
between Pandora and the Muses, see Pucci, Hesiod and the Language of Poetry, .
Notes to P ages –
On the relationship between the Sirens and the Hesiodic Muses, see Segal, Singers,
Heroes, and Gods in th e Odyssey, –.
25. Hurwit, “Beautiful Evil,” –.
26. The jar represents Pandora’s feminine body, and specifically her uterus and
genitalia. For a di scussion of the semantic relationship between Pandora and the
jar, see Sissa, Greek Virginity, –.
27. Although Aspasia, Pericles’ famous concubine, inspires Socrates to memo-
rize and deliver her funerary speech in Menexenus, it i s not her physical beauty
that inspires him so mu ch as h er rhetorical capacity. Yet in h er discussion of the
role of the hetaera in classical Athens as an idea l metaphor for epideictic or atory,
Laura K. McClure shows how Socrates connects Aspasia’s bodily gestures precisely
to her seductive rhetoric. See McClure, Courtesans at Table, .
28. Xenophon’s Socrates, as McClure notices (ibid., ), undermines the goals
of the epideictic di scourse by succumbing to the allure of the beautiful.
29. Simon Goldhill n otices th e similar ity betw een th e tw o names, both of
which carry a di vine significance: Diotima means a di vine honor, while Theodote
means a di vine gift. Goldhill, “The Seduction of the Gaze,” .
30. Archibald A. Day mentions this episode among others that refer to Socrates’
role as an er otic instructor. See Day, The Origins of Latin Love Elegy, n. .
31. For example, J. J. Pollitt sees Memorabilia . as introducing fourth-century
art th eories, but o verlooks th e aesth etic sig nificance of the c onversation w ith
Theodote. See Pollitt, The Ancient View of Greek Art, –. Vivienne J. Gray, how-
ever, presents the conversation as an integral part of a series of conversations with
artists: Gray, The Framing of Socrates, –. See a lso Goldhill, “The Sedu ction
of the Gaze,” –.
32. Patricia A. Rosenmeyer ties Theodote’s seductions to her adornments. She
emphasizes th e f act tha t it i s Th eodote’s a ttire r ather than h er nak ed body tha t
attracts the gaze of others: “It is unclear whether we are meant to imagine her pos-
ing nude: she is said to show the painters ‘as much of herself as was right’ [hosa kalos
echoi], but Socrates notes that she is polutelos kekosmemenen (..): either ‘sump-
tuously dressed,’ or ‘adorned [only] with jewelry.’ At the very least, we may imagine
her dressed to attract, to seduce.” Rosenmeyer, “(In-)Versions of Pygmalion,” .
33. All translations from Xenophon’s Memorabilia are by Amy L. Bonnette; see
Bonnette, Memorabilia.
34. Rosenmeyer, “(In-)Versions of Pygmalion,” , writes that Theodote’s fem-
inine s eductive skill i s the abilit y “to control her own image . . . invent a self to
be remembered and admired.”
35. For a di scussion of the politics of the gaze in th e c ontext of Socrates’
encounter with Theodote, see Goldhill, “The Seduction of the Gaze.”
36. Socrates uses conventional hunting metaphors to illuminate the need for an
invisible contrivance in th e erotic profession. The f abrication of an undetectable
Notes to P ages –
trap is essential to a su ccessful hunt. By the same token, the amorous net should
be craftily designed so that its s eduction will appear to the future lover as a ma t-
ter of sheer impulse or chan ce (..–).
37. Translation by Hugh Tredennick in E. Hamilton and H. Cairns, eds., The
Collected Dialogues of Plato.
38. The H esiodic m yth i s pr esent in s everal di alogues. See, for example, the
imagery in Philebus of the craftsman’s mixing of pleasure with thought (e), and
the associ ation of the cr aftsman w ith Hephaestus (c), which I r ead as a dir ect
allusion to the creation of Pandora in Works and Da ys.
39. This point is elaborated in chapter , where I di scuss the wonder Pandora
inspires in Hesiod’s Theogony. Plato explicitly acknowledges his debt to Theogony
in Phaedrus’s speech in Symposium b.
40. All tr anslations from the Symposium are by Alexander Nehamas and Paul
Woodruff; see Nehamas and Woodruff, Plato’s Symposium.
41. See th e opening of the Protagoras (a), where Socr ates i s descr ibed as
hunting after th e bea uty of Alcibiades. On th e h unting met aphor in Pla to, see
Nussbaum, The Fragility of Goodness, .
42. Alcibiades addresses Socr ates as a w onderful man in Symposium c and
refers to his wonderful interiority in a.
43. As Socr ates en ters th e r oom Agathon en treats him: “Socrates, come li e
down n ext t o me. Who knows, if I t ouch you, I may ca tch a bit of the w isdom
that came t o you under my neighbor’s porch” (Symp. d).
44. Nussbaum, The Fragility of Goodness, .
45. Of course, Platonic dialogues present a diverse picture of this relationship:
see Robinson, Plato’s Psychology, .
46. Examining th e sig nificance of Socrates’ body in Phaedo, Nicole Lor aux
reads the dialogue “against the grain of the text, or at least its appar ent content.”
Loraux, The Ex perience of Tiresias, . Her conclusion i s tha t “Plato i s simult a-
neously playing on two levels when he proclaims that the body i s nothing, yet he
uses the language of the body to speak of the soul.” According to Loraux, the body
is the means thr ough which th e immortality of the soul, its ultimate superiority,
is commemorated. Although the body s erves the ideology of the soul, it remains
in itself an empty sign.
47. “Socrates has appar ently s een, first, that an y t alk of the s elf or person
involves talk about both body and soul, and, second, that the relationship between
the two is not the crude one of numeral addition and subtraction, but the philo-
sophically mor e r espectable on e of entailment.” Robinson, Plato’s P sychology, .
Socrates a cknowledges th e impor tance of bodily bea uty in th e c ontext of his
discussion of the philosophica l eros. See N ussbaum, “Eros and E thical N orms,”
–.
48. Socrates’ response to the beautiful body of Charmides is strongly physical;
see Charmides b, d–e.
Notes to P ages –
or n ot), Roman lo ve eleg y cann ot exi st. The puella herself is th e eleg iac Muse.”
James, Learned Girls and M ale Persuasion, .
13. The image of the woman as th e poet’s source of inspiration is part of the
process of the secularization of the Muse in Roman literature. See Spentzou, “Sec-
ularizing the Muse,” –.
14. See Alison Shar rock on th e image of the Muse as a wh ore and a god dess
in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and specifically her reference to Ovid’s amatory poetry:
“In th e ama tory poetr y, the M use i s a s exy an d passi ve eleg iac puella, who i s
courted, desired, fought, and rejected.” Sharrock, “An A-musing Tale,” .
15. Catullus a ddresses th e poet Caecilius as tener poe ta (.), while Ov id
names Propertius tener (AA .); cf. Martial .., teneri Catulli. Ovid also uses
tener to characterize love poetry: teneri modi (Am. ..), teneri versus (AA .);
and in Tristia . he us es tener to r efer t o both th e form an d c ontent of love
poetry: denique composui teneros non s olus amores (“moreover, I was not alone in
composing tender loves”).
16. Kennedy, The A rts of Love, . See a lso Wyke, “Reading F emale Flesh:
Amores .,” –; Miller, Subjecting Verses, –.
17. On the effeminate persona of Propertius, see Jasper Griffin’s discussion of
the resemblance between his persona an d that of the effeminate Antony: Griffin,
Latin Poets and Roman Life, –; see also Gold, “‘But Ariadne Was Never There
in the First Pla ce,’” –.
18. Maria Wyke provides a stimulating analysis of the development of the study
of gender play in Roman love elegy by pointing to changes in feminist approaches
to the genre: Wyke, “Taking the Woman’s Part,” –.
19. In contrast to those treatments that completely identify Roman love elegy
with the traditional male rhetoric of desire. Paul Veyne, in Roman Erotic Elegy, ,
analyzes the genre as the discourse of the egocentric male lover; Alison Sharrock,
in “Womanufacture,” –, argues that the Ovidian Pygmalion narrative, the story
of the creation of a woman as th e male artist’s object of desire, offers a par adig-
matic myth for th e discourse of love elegy. See also Wyke’s discussion in “Taking
the Woman’s Part,” –.
20. Wyke, “Taking the Woman’s Part,” ; Kennedy, The Arts of Love, –.
21. An ana lysis of the di scourse of effeminacy in R oman cultur e w ith an
emphasis on the various uses of mollitia (“softness”) is provided by Edwards, The
Politics of Immorality in Ancient Rome, –; Corbeill, “Dining Deviants in Roman
Political Invective,” –; Williams, Roman Homosexualities, –. More rele-
vant to our discussion are the treatments of effeminate rhetoric in the Roman love
elegy; cf. Wyke, “Taking the Woman’s Part,” –.
22. Kennedy, The Arts of Love, –.
23. As Judith Hallett argues in her seminal article: “The amatory elegists, or at
least th eir liter ary personae, speak on beha lf of the people wh ose ic onoclastic
actions ultimately struck Augustus as threatening. They constitute what present-day
Notes to P ages –
38. Richard Tarrant seems to support the argument that Amores reflects Ovid’s
poetic development. He writes that “if . originally concluded the fifth book of
Amores by celebrating Ovid’s achievement as a love elegist, its less prominent place
in th e thr ee-book r evision r eflects th e g rowth of Ovid’s poetic ambitions. ” Tar-
rant, “Ovid and Ancient Literary History,” .
39. Amores ..: atque a s ollicito multus amante l egar (“and may I be often
read by the anxious lo ver”).
40. Amores ..–: vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo / po cula Castalia
plena minister aqua (“Let the crowd admire what is useless; for me, however, may
Apollo serve cups filled with Castalian water”).
41. Gibson, Ars Amatoria Book , –.
42. Rem. , , , .
43. The fact that both men and women are told in Remedia to keep away from
the poetr y recommended exclusively for w omen in Ars suggests that this read-
ing list applies equally to men.
44. Comedy an d tr agedy mig ht ha ve a danger ous e ffect on br oken-hearted
viewers, as Ovid suggests in hi s counsel to avoid the dr amatic shows (Rem. –
): illic adsidue ficti saltantur amantes: / q uid caveas, actor, quid iuvet, arte docet
(“There fictitious lovers are all the time portrayed in dance. The actor teaches you
how pleasing is the thing you must avoid”). A. A. R. Henderson understands lines
– to refer exclusively to pantomime. However, singing, dancing, and instru-
mental music were typical of other kinds of performances as well. Moreover, love
stories were not restricted to pantomime; they were also part of the stock of tragic
and comic themes. Henderson, P. Ovidi Nasonis Remedia Amoris.
45. Episodes c oncerning aban doned an d mi serable h eroines ma y ha ve been
thought to belong t o that category of dangerous poetr y that the lovesick should
shun. Readers consumed by extreme passions mig ht identify with the experience
of Virgil’s Dido an d Varro’s Medea.
46. Ovid di scloses hi s in tention t o mo ve on t o explor e oth er kin ds of writ-
ing (Rem. ): et capiunt animi car mina multa mei (“my thoughts contain many
poems”). On Ovid and the end of the Roman love elegy, see Gian Biagio Conte’s
remark tha t “a w ork su ch as th e Remedia, teaching h ow t o h eal oneself of love,
represents th e extr eme dev elopment of love poetr y an d br ings t o a sy mbolic
close th e br ief period of its in tense exi stence.” Conte, Latin Liter ature: A H is-
tory, .
47. Consider the way Horace di stinguishes Sappho’s love poetr y from that of
Alcaeus in Ode ..–. Her uniqueness li es in h er extr emely v ivid form of ex-
pression (.): spirat adhuc amor / v ivuntque comissi cal ores / Aeoliae fidibus puel-
lae. (“her love still br eathes and the passions of the Aeolic g irl live on en trusted
to her Lyre”). See the discussion of Horace ..– in Ancona, “The Untouched
Self,” .
48. See Tarrant, “Ovid and Ancient History,” ; Jacobson, Heroides, –.
Notes to P ages –
49. “In order to make sense of this fact, we must first realize how strange it is.
Of course, real women in Ov id’s day obviously did w rite letters an d some ev en
wrote poetr y; but the woman w riter was n ot a v ery w idespread phenomenon in
ancient liter ary cultur e, certainly n ot on e tha t w e c ould r egard as n ormative or
paradigmatic.” Farrel, “Reading and Writing the Heroides,” .
50. Ibid., .
51. In this respect, the relationship between Ovid’s and Sappho’s literary iden-
tities i s especi ally per tinent t o th e r eading of her letter. For di scussions of this
question s ee H arvey, “Ventriloquizing Sapph o, or th e Lesbi an M use,” –;
Rimell, “Epistolary Fictions,” ; Lindheim, Mail and F emale, –.
52. Lindheim, Mail and F emale, –.
53. DuBois, Sappho Is Burning, ; see also Joan DeJean’s interpretation of the
passage in Longinus in which she discusses Sappho’s poetics: DeJean, “Fictions of
Sappho,” –.
54. Greene, ed., Re-Reading Sappho.
55. On Athenian comedy’s interest in Sapph o as an ins atiable lover, see Most,
“Reflecting Sappho,” .
56. See her discussion of this passage in Mail and F emale, .
57. Text and tr anslation in Campbell, Greek Lyric, vol. , Sappho and Alcaeus,
–.
58. Henry, Prisoner of History, .
59. Ibid., –.
60. On this tradition, see Kahn, Plato and th e Socratic Dialogue, –.
61. Plato, Phaedrus b–c. DuBois, Sappho Is Burning, –, persuasively shows
how Socrates’ description of erotic symptoms echoes Sappho’s poetry.
62. Campbell, Greek Lyric, :–.
63. See Holt N. Parker’s di scussion of the fema le authorial voice tr aditionally
associated with ancient sex handbooks: “Love’s Body Anatomized,” –.
64. Diotima’s vocabulary converts the Hesiodic terminology for sexual longing
(pothos, W&D ; himeros, Th. ).
65. Halperin, “Why Is Diotima a Woman?” –. Note Halperin’s prefatory
statement ( ): “Plato c learly means us t o notice tha t Diotima’s conceptualiza-
tion of eros derives from a speci fically ‘feminine’ perspective.” See also Cavarero,
In Spite of Plato, –.
66. Henry, Prisoner of History, –.
67. See, for example, Socrates an d C ritobulus’s di scussion of friendship in
Xenophon’s Memorabilia ..–, where Socr ates remarks (..) that knowing
what a good ma tchmaker is makes Aspasia a philosophica l source of wisdom.
68. See my discussion of Socrates’ eros in chapter .
69. In r eference t o Varro’s f amous tr eatment of Jason and Medea in th e Arg-
onautae, not to mention his neoteric love elegies: Propertius ..–.
70. Wills, “Sappho and Catullus ,” –; Itzkowitz, “On the Last St anza
Notes to P ages –
of Catullus ,” –; Segal, “Otium and Eros,” –; O’Higgins, “Sappho’s
Splintered Tongue,” –.
71. See R onnie Ancona’s in tertextual r eading of Horace’s Ode ., in which
she shows how both Sappho and Catullus function as Horace’s “Muses”: Ancona,
“The Untouched Self,” –.
72. Propertius has only one allusion to Sappho (..): a reference to Cynthia’s
poetic talents describes her as pla ying the “Aeolian lyre” (aeolio plecto). He refers
to Sapph o w ithout a ctually naming h er. His a llusion impli es a s ecluded fema le
discourse: she i s, in oth er w ords, a fema le a uthor wh ose a udience i s c omposed
exclusively of women. Sappho i s h ence in cluded w ith oth er fema le poets, like
Corinna and Errina, who inspire his Cynthia.
73. Ovid’s homage to Sappho is characteristic of Hellenistic culture and atyp-
ical of the Roman poets. In the latter literary tradition, Sappho has not been can-
onized. She is absent, for example, from Quintilian’s list of recommended authors
in Book of his Institutio Oratoria.
74. Even Catullus, who emulates, translates, and Romanizes Sappho, does not
mention h er dir ectly b y name, except in .–: Sapphica puell a Musa do ctior.
Here, too, Sapphica Musa is mentioned in th e context of female education.
75. Sappho is often pr esented as an inspir ing model for edu cated women who
read or w ish to compose poetry. See Hemelrijk, Matrona Docta, –.
76. The elder Seneca refers to Ovid’s lack of self-restraint (Controv. ..). See
Lowell Edmunds’s comment on thi s passage in Intertextuality and th e Reading of
Roman Poetry, .
77. Disrespect t oward lo ve poetr y i s c ommon among R oman a uthors. Dis-
cussing Cicero’s reading habits, Seneca (Ep. .) attributes to him th e following
statement: “Even if his lifetime were doubled he would not have time to read the
lyric poets” (Negat Cicero, si duplicetur sibi ae tas, habiturum se te mpus, quo l egat
lyricos). Horace’s Ars P oetica provides an argumentum ex sil entio for th e lo wer
status of love eleg y. On thi s v ery i ssue s ee N iall Rudd’s c omment tha t “looking
back over the literary discourse one notices that when it speaks of specific genres
it mentions tr agedy, comedy, epic, and choral poetr y, but not love eleg y.” Rudd,
Horace: Epistles and Epistl e to th e Pisones (Ars Poetica), .
78. Butler, The Institutio Oratoria of Quintilian.
79. Alexander Dalzell uses this term as w ell: “What this means is that the ideal
reader of the Ars is someone who is prepared to be sh ocked, or at least someon e
who will take delight in th e thought that other readers will be sh ocked.” Dalzell,
The Criticism of Didactic Poetry, . I agree with Dalzell () that Ovid’s desire to
shock does not align him with Propertius’s anti-Augustan tendencies. Ovid’s shock-
ing style, which is also apparent in his epic, Metamorphoses, is not strictly political.
It emerges first of all from an aesth etic intention—one that has a politica l effect.
80. “Ovid mak es hi s poem s afe b y s ending r espectable w omen a way. That’s
all right: once the virgins and matrons have gone we can get on w ith the fun. But
Notes to P ages –
real and implied readers are not so easily divided. Do the critics who accept these
disclaimers a t f ace va lue r eally think tha t an y r espectable w oman r eading th e
poem would now put it do wn as instructed? Of course not.” Sharrock, “Ovid and
the Politics of Reading,” . For a different view of the identity of the love elegy’s
puella, see James, Learned Girls and Male Persuasion, which argues that the elegist’s
beloved is an in dependent courtesan.
81. Many pass ages in Ars Amatoria clearly r efute Ov id’s dec laration tha t hi s
guide is not intended for mar ried women or tha t it does n ot encourage adultery.
See Dalzell, The Criticism of Didactic Poetry, .
82. Ovidius ut roque l ascivior, says Quin tilian ( Inst...), comparing Ov id
with Propertius and Tibullus.
83. Edmunds pr ovides a di fferent ana lysis of this term, based ma inly on th e
ancient reception of the Metamorphoses. According to him, Quintilian and other
Roman a uthors c onceive of Ovid’s lasci viousness as an expr ession of a st ylistic
weakness—in this case the poet’s love of diversity in matters of genre and theme:
see Edmunds, Intertextuality and th e Reading of Roman Poetry, –.
84. But Ovid has hi s own limitations. For example, he does not consider him-
self impudent or immun e to shame. If indecency is evidenced in hi s erotic writ-
ing, it is certainly not on th e level of the explicitly s exual or pornographic. Thus,
the passage from Remedia Amoris that addresses his critics is actually a digression
that occurs befor e Ov id commences a di scussion on s exual aversion techniques.
Ovid suggests that this discussion embarrasses him (Rem. –): Multa quidem
ex illis pudor est mihi dicer e; sed tu / I ngenio verbis conc ipe p lura me is (“About
much of these, though, I am ashamed t o speak; therefore, use y our in telligence
and imagine more than I s ay”).
See also Malcolm Heath’s statement in “Hesiod’s Didactic Poetry,” –, that “no
one suppos es that Ov id r eally w rote hi s poem in or der to instruct the youth of
Rome in tha t art” ().
17. See Kenney, “Nequitiae poe ta,” –; Leach, “Georgic I magery in th e Ars
Amatoria,” –; Henderson, P. Ovidi Nasonis Remedia Amoris.
18. Dalzell, The Criticism of Didactic Poetry, , see also –. For treatments
of Ovid’s ama tory dida ctic poetr y as “pseudo-didactic par odies” or as “didactic
jokes,” see for example A. S. Hollis, Ovid: Ars Amtoria I, xvi. Cf. Hollis, “The Ars
Amatoria and Remedia Amoris,” ; and Otis, Ovid as an Epic P oet, .
19. The dich otomy betw een th e us eful an d th e pleasur able i s w ell a ttested—
for example, in the demand for an absolute s eparation between voluptas and hon-
estas raised by Cicero’s didactic treatise De Officiis .: Nam ut utilitatem nullam
esse docuimus, quae honestat i esse t cont raria, sic omnem voluptate m dic imus hon-
estati esse cont rariam (“I ha ve t aught tha t th ere i s n othing us eful in tha t which
is c ontrary t o th e h onorable, similarly I s ay tha t a ll pleasur e i s c ontrary t o th e
honorable”). And see Seneca’s De Vita Beata ., which defines pleasure, in oppo-
sition t o th e sublime v irtue, as something lo wly ( humile), servile ( servile), weak
(imbecillum), and perishable (caducum) that dwells in br othels and taverns.
20. One long-time controversy within Ovidian scholarship concerns the specific
nature of Ovid’s field of instruction: extramarital relationships and wanton loves.
Do the love guides address the love affairs of married women, or of socially infe-
rior unmarried ones—for example, courtesans? Either way, Ovid seems, by Roman
standards, to ha ve been dea ling w ith a marg inal, if not illicit, topic. Gordon
Williams was th e first t o argu e tha t th e lo ve eleg y’s w omen ar e of some soci al
standing, and most pr obably married. See Williams, Tradition and Or iginality in
Roman Poetry, , and, specifically on Ars, his Change and Decline, –. Sharon
James, in Learned Gir ls and M ale Persuasion, returns to the identification of the
elegiac women as pr ostitutes.
21. For the full r eference to Cicero’s view, see chapter , n. .
22. Nussbaum, The Therapy of Desire, .
23. Conte, Genres and R eaders, .
24. Conte, ibid., , considers the view of Remedia as a form of palinode to be
the most typical misunderstanding shared by Ovid’s readers. And see Peter Green,
who argues that Ov id’s c laim not to be w riting a pa linode (Rem. –)—nec te,
blande puer, nec nostras prodimus ar tes, / nec nova pr aeteritum Musa retexit opus
(“I do n ot betr ay y ou n or m y o wn ar ts; / thi s n ew M use does n ot unr avel m y
past w ork”)—means tha t h e expected hi s cr itical r eaders “to t ag him w ith th e
‘palinode th eory.’” In G reen, “Commentary of Ovid,” in The Erotic Poems (New
York: Penguin, ), .
25. While Diotima c onstructs the metaphysical goal as th e climax of the phil-
osopher’s erotic biography, that endpoint is governed by the same principle reg-
ulating the entire course of the lover’s life. In this sense, Ovid is influenced by the
Notes to P ages –
44. Foley w rites in h er c ommentary (ibid., ): “In thi s pass age P ersephone
acquires an ar ticulate voice (be yond a cr y for h elp) in th e nar rative for th e first
time; this may affirm that she has a cquired an a dult role and a par tial indepen-
dence from both H ades and her mother.”
45. Feminist r eaders s ee P ersephone’s duplicit y as a dir ect c onsequence of
her dua l role as da ughter and w ife: “For Irigaray, Persephone r epresents divided
femininity only partially captured by patriarchy, a paradoxical being who is never
alone, ‘immortally and never mor e a v irgin but inhabits tw o mutua lly exclusive
domains as h er moth er’s da ughter as w ell as h er h usband’s w ife. Hence, Perse-
phone bec omes an inscrut able, potentially dec eptive figure, never fully kn own,
who inhabits, insofar as sh e has a s elf, an ambiguous space between two power-
ful presences.” Foley, The Homeric Hymn to D emeter, .
46. The Ov idian P roserpina r ecalls an other feminin e ar chetype, Semonides’
woman of the s ea. Among th e ten t ypes of women, the s ea w oman i s di stin-
guished by her double na ture; like the sea, she is tossed from calm to storminess
and v ice v ersa. This duplicit y ti es h er t o Persephone/Proserpina an d in turn t o
Pandora. As Nicole Loraux writes: “With her affability and rage, the woman of the
sea r eminds us of the double na ture of Pandora, made of deceitful s eduction.”
Loraux, Children of Athena, –.
itself does not make her an ar tist. On Penelope as a cunning w eaver, see Felson-
Rubin, “Penelope’s Perspective,” –, esp. –.
16. Trans. Mary Lefk owitz an d M aureen F ant, Women’s Life in G reece and
Rome, .
17. On H elen’s w eb s ee Berg ren, “Helen’s Web,” –; Zeitlin, “Travesties of
Gender an d Genr e in Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazousae” (), reprinted in
Playing the Other, –; Kennedy, “Helen’s Web Unraveled,” –; Suzuki, Meta-
morphoses of Helen, –.
18. In c ontrast t o th e H omeric v erbal nar rative, the w eaver’s st ory i s bas ed
on th e v isual image. The f act tha t H elen w eaves h er st ory in pictur es i s indica-
tive of an ess ential di fference betw een h er an d th e H omeric nar rator. Does th e
Homeric text imply tha t thi s difference i s ev idence of her limited a uthority as a
narrator?
19. Sappho courageously reconstructed Helen’s lost perspecti ve by presenting
the latter’s unforg ivable des ertion in a n ew lig ht in F r. . Although Sappho fol-
lows the words that Homer puts in H elen’s mouth ( Il. .–), her Helen devi-
ates fr om th e H omeric on e in h er unapologetic s elf-assurance. See th e ana lysis
of Fr. by Page duBoi s in Sappho I s Bur ning, –. Sappho ar ticulates wha t
Helen c ould n ot expr ess openly an d w ithout shame in th e H omeric epic. For
duBois, Sappho’s r einterpretation est ablishes Helen “as subject, as a h ero of her
own time” ().
20. All tr anslations fr om th e Ili ad an d Odyss ey ar e b y Richmon d La ttimore.
21. Charles Sega l mak es a similar poin t in Singers, Heroes, and Gods in th e
Odyssey (): “Even wh en sh e en visages th e war as ev entually par t of a t otal
heroic tradition, her primary interest is in what she is actually undergoing.” At the
same time, Segal’s general di stinction betw een aesth etic di stance and emotiona l
involvement in H omeric poetry does n ot take into account the relevance of gen-
der difference.
22. On lamen tation as a feminin e genr e, see Alexiou, The R itual Lame nt in
Greek Tradition; Holst-Warhaft, Women’s Lame nts and G reek Liter ature; Stears,
“Death Bec omes Her,” –; Murnaghan, “The Poetics of Loss in G reek E pic,”
–.
23. Foley, “Poetics of Tragic Lamentation,” .
24. For example, women mourn P atroclus in .–; Andromache mourns
Hector in .–.
25. See, for example, Murnaghan, “The Poetics of Loss in Greek Epic,” : “In
general, the concern of lamenting women for their own suffering means that they
have no use for wha t concerns a war rior most.”
26. Her death wish is inspired by the death of Hector.
27. Achilles’ lament in .– contains similar elements: () a death wish; ()
memories of his absent father and son; () self-pity. Achilles’ emotional response
is follo wed b y th e elders ’ lament for P atroclus, which i s a lso domina ted b y a
Notes to P ages –
personal perspecti ve: “So h e spok e, mourning, and th e elders lamen ted ar ound
him / remembering each those he had left behind in his own halls” (Il. .–).
Lamentations ar e, of course, not sung only b y w omen. Yet pr ecisely beca use of
the tension betw een th e persona l an d th e public embodi ed in th e form of a
lament, I see it as a feminin e modality. In this sense, we may say that masculine
figures can also give voice to the feminine. Achilles’ response to the death of Patro-
clus, for inst ance, is a ma le lamen t of great emotiona l po wer, but it sh ould be
understood as feminine at heart. The feminine perspective is not limited to female
figures.
28. Segal, Singers, Heroes, and Gods in the Odyssey, –, discusses the divided
audience for Phemius ’s song but only br iefly mentions Penelope’s response.
29. Ibid., . On the epic’s creation of “a community of shared mourners,” see
Greene, “The Natural Tears of Epic,” –.
30. See Segal, Singers, Heroes, and Gods in th e Odyssey, –.
31. See Thalmann, Conventions of Form and Thought in Early Greek Epic Poetry,
, –, –; Doherty, “Gender an d I nternal Audiences in th e Odyssey,”
–.
32. Charles F. Ahern similar ly argu es tha t th e feminin e eth os i s incorporated
into the Homeric ethical framework. “Grieving, even if it is ‘womanly’ and there-
fore an object of suspicion, is an abiding , even a c entral fea ture in th e psy cho-
logical and ethical landscape of human experience. This the poet shows strikingly
by ascr ibing it, in th e speci fic form of comparison w ith a w oman, to th e tw o
greatest of heroic figures. Womanly grief becomes heroic grief. That Odysseus and
Achilles should then, in reflecting on their own grief and that of others, come each
to s ee hims elf in decidedly ambi valent terms w ill testify t o th e hig h deg ree of
moral c omplexity w ith which H omer has in vested th e w orld of heroic a ction.”
Ahern, “Two Images of ‘Womanly Grief ’ in Homer,” –.
33. This in triguing simile has a ttracted th e a ttention of many sch olars, who
have o ffered a var iety of interpretations. See, for example, Mattes, Odysseus be i
den Phäake n, –; Podlecki, “Some Odyss ean Similes,” –; Foley, “Reverse
Similes and Sex R oles in th e Odyssey,” , ; Lloyd, “Homer on Poetry,” –.
34. Patroclus is compared to a sobbing bab y girl in Iliad .–.
35. Interpreters ha ve r ecently str essed th e sig nificance of this sc ene in illus-
trating the mor al force of poetry. See, for example, Crotty, The Poetics of Suppli-
cation, –. Segal’s comments on th e psychological and ethica l sig nificance of
the simile in this episode are valuable. See Singers, Heroes, and Gods in the Odyssey,
–, and specifically his remark on the Homeric aesthetic conception of empa-
thetic identification (): “The scene of Odysseus’ weeping, then, articulates two
very different modes of response: the aesthetic distance of Alcinoos that can treat
poetry ( fiction) as a sour ce of pure pleasur e ( terpsis), and th e in tense, painful
involvement of Odysseus as h e par ticipates, through memor y, in th e su fferings
that are the subject ma tter of the song.”
Notes to P ages –
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Index
love: author and reader in, –; in masculinity: effeminacy and, ,
comic and tragic traditions, ; as –; feminine difference from,
current vs. past experience, ; –; ideal wife’s familiarity with,
deceit in, ; deterministic belief n; personification of, , ;
in, ; Diotima’s view of, –; as sameness, –n
myth of origin of, ; Ovid’s view Maximus of Tyre, –
of, –; possible narratives of, McClure, Laura K., n, n
–; Socratic view of, ; McKeown, J. C., n
teachers of, –, , , n; mechane (contrivance), –
as textual phenomenon, –, – Medea, , n, n, –n
; woman’s actively passive role Medusa,
in, –. See also desire; eros; men: anxieties of, , ; as author
Roman love elegy in love relationship, –;
love poets: as authorities on eros, – autochthonous origin of, ;
; as counter-cultural, –n; censorship of tears of, –;
erotodidactic persona of, –; Freudian question about, ;
illegitimate voice and, , –; humans as only, –; as
as lovers, , n; medieval, husbands/educators, –; as
n; Ovid’s list of, –; Ovid’s individuals, n; Pandora as
self-presentation as, –; Sappho delight for, –; symbiosis
as, –; terms for, between gods an d, –; symbiosis
Lucretius, , , , between world and, –; woman
as separating gods fr om, n
male desire: awakening of, –; Menander, , , , n
Freud on, ix; Theodote’s effect on, Metamorphoses (Ovid): archetypal
–; woman as object of, and feminine biography in, ; on
female identity, – difference, –; Muse as wh ore
marriage: analogy of didactic text an d, and goddess in, n; role of
–; as cure for h ysteria, –; feminine voice in, ; secondary
death identified with, ; eros split naming in, –; style of, n;
from, –; ideal woman for, weaving metaphor in, –
–, –, –n; poetry Michelini, Ann Norris, n
about, –; resistance to, –, Miller, Paul Allen, –
–; Roman customs in, n. mimesis: imitation and, –; poetic
See also rape representation and, –; theory
Mars, sons of, of, –
Marsilio, Maria S., n Minerva,
Marsyas, misogynism: dismantling of, , ;
masculine: art interpreted via, –; elements of, –; Pandora as
mythos and, ; nakedness linked origin myth of, –n; in
to, ; as sameness, –n; Plautine version of Pandora, ;
Sappho linked to, – in poetics of marriage, –; in
Index
Philetus, , , , , – spherical creatures and, –;
Philocomasium, on Theogony, n; weaving
Philomela, –, metaphor of, n; :
philosophers: exclusions of, –; Apology, –; Cratylus, , –;
linear paradigm of, –, ; as Gorgias, ; Ion, n; Phaedo, ,
source of Socrates’ erotic –, –, n; Phaedrus,
knowledge, , , ; Republic, , ;
philosophical text, –, . See also Timaeus, , . See also Socrates of
eros; knowledge and learning Plato; Symposium (Plato)
Phoebus, – Plautus: on feminine beauty, –;
physical/sensual/sensible world on Sappho’s desire, ; slave’s
(world of phenomena): battles in comic effect used by, –;
development of, ; changing version of Pandora by, ; :
human relationship to, –; Amphitryon, ; Menaechmi, –;
concretization of, –; femininity, Miles Gloriosus, ,
sexuality, and visibility linked to, Plutarch, –, n
–; as giving mother vs. stingy poetics: of effeminate text, –; of
father, –; Helen’s articulation eros, ; of marriage, , –,
of, –; human gaze dir ected –; of Other and otherness,
to, –, –; ideal wife’s –
characteristics and, –; language poetry and language of poetry:
applied to, –; men’s seeing of analogy between Pandora and,
and separation from, –; –, –; desire aroused by,
Pandora’s embodiment of, –; –; dialogic possibilities of,
symbiosis of men with, –. See –; divine and human, distin-
also cosmos/universe guished, –; dual effects of, –
pictorial vs. literary text, –n, n; eros and feminine linked to,
n –; femininity and mystery of
Plato: on anamnesis, ; censorship meaning linked in, , –; as
of tears and crying, –; masculine activity, ; masculine
deconstruction of, ; on eros, , , vs. feminine listening to, –; as
–, ; exclusions of, –; moral force, n; Pandora as
genealogy of Eros adapted by, ; image of, –n; Plato on proper
on himeros, ; on Homer, ; balance in, ; temporality’s
language of body used by, n; relationship with, –, n
masculine creation concept of, ; Pollitt, J. J., n
on mimesis, –; on palinode, ; Pollux,
Pandora liberated from evil stigma Polynices, n
by, –; on properly balanced polyphony, –. See also Babel,
poetry, ; on reproductions, Tower o f
n; on seeing and wonder, – Pomeroy, Sarah B., n, n
; Socrates’ body and, –, ; Porphyrio, –
Index
heroes, –; weaving metaphor text: author’s bodily pr esence in, ;
of, –; on wonder, – feminine linked to, –, –
Socrates of Xenophon, –n, ; as lascivious, –; meanings
n of, ; narrative options in, –
Socratic Pandora, –, – ; Pandora’s presence as ess ential
Sophocles, to, –, ; picture vs., –
sophrosyne (self-moderation), n, n; Plato’s definition
Spentzou, Efrossini, of, ; sensual dimension of, x;
Statius, n subjectivity linked to,
Steiner, George, n textile: language linked to, –; text
Stesichorus, linked to, –. See also weaving
Stewart, Andrew, textuality: feminine attributes of, ,
structuralism, reading Pandora in ; femininity and body link ed to,
context of, – –, ; feminist questions of,
symbiosis: end of, –; of men and ; gender’s intersection with,
gods, –; of men and world, –, –; otherness and, ;
– Pandora’s duality as sig n of, .
Symposium (Plato): Diotima in, , See also palinodic structure
; on eros, –, , ; Eros in, textum, –
–; exclusions in, –; thauma idesthai (wonder to see),
masculine creation concept in, ; –. See also wonder
Pandora’s significance in, ; on Thaumas, –
shame, ; Socrates in, – Theaetetus, –
Thebaid (Statius), n
tabula rasa, , , n theeton, –
Tarrant, Richard, n Theodorus, –
Tartaros, , , , Theodote: appearance of, –,
tears and crying: exclusion of, –, n; meanings of name, n;
–; as feminine response, – self-representation of, n;
; of Jean Valjean (Les Miserables), Socrates’ encounter with, –
n; of Odysseus, –; of Theogony (Hesiod): as concealed
Patroclus, n; weaving linked eulogy of feminine, ; as cosmo-
to, – logical epic, , –; divine
Telemachos: Penelope’s conflict genealogies in, –, –, ;
with, –; Penelope’s response Eros in, –; evil signified in,
compared with, – –; homoios used in, –;
temporality: demise of Golden Age illumination in, –; Muses’ role
and, –; of divine vs. human in, –, –, , , n;
poetry, –, n; Pandora’s Pandora’s place in c enter of, –,
invocation of, ; of transformative, , –; structural break in,
cyclical narrative, – n; truth and falsehood in, –
tener, , n ; wonder in, –; Works and
Index
origin of race of, ; Propertius –; textual tensions in, –;
as, –; rape and psychic Theogony compared with, –,
development of, –; as reader –, n. See also Hesiodic
in love relationship, –; Sappho Pandora
as role model for, n; of sea Wyke, Maria, , n, n,
(Semonides), n; as separating n
gods from men, n; writing
and reading poetry as, . See also Xanthippe, –, –
feminine; Other and otherness xeinos (guest-friend),
wonder: blinding lightning vs. bright Xenophon: alter ego of, , n;
light in, ; of Pandora’s diadem, educational program of, –;
, –; recurrent uses of, –; influences on, ; on relationship
role in philosoph y, –; of among arts, –; :
Socrates’ appearance, – Memorabilia, –, n,
Works and Da ys (Hesiod): Aphrodite’s n; Oeconomicus, , –.
role in, n; audience of, ; See also Socrates of Xenophon
awakening human senses in,
n; censure of protagonists Zeitlin, Froma, –, n,
and, ; context of writing, ; nn–
dressed woman in, ; fraternal Zeus: blinding lightning of, , ;
relationships in, –; goals of, , hegemony of, –, , , ,
, ; on ideal wife, –; on n; Muses’ singing for, ;
learning about Oth er, –; naked Pandora’s creation and, , ,
maiden in, –; Pandora’s –, –n; Prometheus’s
significance in, –, –; poetic relationship with, , –, ;
authority in, –; on relationship rapes by, –, –; sons of,
between men an d world, , –; –; Typhoeus’s challenges to,
skepticism about Fi ve Ages in, –
W S C
William Aylward, Nicholas D. Cahill, and Patricia A. Rosenmeyer,
General Editors
E. A. T
Romans and B arbarians: The Decline of the Western Empire
J T R
Accountability in Athenian Government
H. I. M
A History of Education in Antiquity
Histoire de l’Educat ion dans l’A ntiquité, translated by George Lamb
E S
Festivals of Attica: An Archaeological Commentary
G. M W
Roman Cities: Les v illes romaines by Pierre Grimal, translated and
edited by G. Michael Woloch, together with A Descriptive Catalogue of
Roman Cities by G. Michael Woloch
W G. M , editor
Ancient Greek Art and I conography
K D M
Greek Footwear and th e Dating of Sculpture
J K N
The Classical Epic Tradition
J V C , E P ,
B S R , and T S , editors
Ancient Anatolia: Aspects of Change and C ultural Development
A N M
Euripides and th e Tragic Tradition
W J. R, editor
The Archaeology of the Olympics: The Olympics and
Other Festivals in Antiquity
P P
Wit and th e Writing of History: The Rhetoric of Historiography
in Imperial Rome
B H F
The Hellenistic Aesthetic
B S R
Hellenistic Sculpture I: The Styles of ca. – B.C.
K J. G
Theocritus’ Pastoral Analogies: The Formation of a Genre
V B and R D D P , editors
Rome and I ndia: The Ancient Sea Trade
R B
Hans H. Wellisch, translator
Kallimachos: The Alexandrian Library and th e Origins of Bibliography
D C
Myth, Ethos, and Actuality: Official Art in Fifth C entury B.C. Athens
J H. O and R H. S
The Wedding in Ancient Athens
R D D P and J P S , editors
Murlo and th e Etruscans: Art and So ciety in Ancient Etruria
J L
Greek Heroine Cults
W G. M , editor
Polykleitos, the Doryphoros, and Tradition
P P
The Game of Death in Ancient Rome: Arena Sport and P olitical Suicide
M S. D
Flinders Petrie: A Life in Archaeology
S B. M
Polygnotos and Vase Painting in Cl assical Athens
J N , editor
Worshipping Athena: Panathenaia and Parthenon
P A. W
Hellenistic Architectural Sculpture: Figural Motifs in
Western Anatolia and th e Aegean Islands
B S R
Fourth-Century Styles in G reek Sculpture
L G and C M , editors
Ancient Goddesses: The Myths and th e Evidence
J -M C
Displaced Persons: The Literature of Exile from Cicero to B oethius
B S R
Hellenistic Sculpture II: The Styles of ca. – B.C.
C
David Mulroy, translator and commentator
The Complete Poetry of Catullus
B S R
Hellenistic Sculpture III: The Styles of ca. – B.C.
A K
The Iconography of Sculptured Statue B ases in th e Archaic and Cl assical Periods
Sa r a H. L
Mail and F emale: Epistolary Narrative and D esire in O vid’s Heroides
G Z
Modes of Viewing in H ellenistic Poetry and Art
A A C
Discs of Splendor: The Relief Mirrors of the Etruscans
T S. J
A Symposion of Praise: Horace Returns to L yric in Odes IV
J - R J
Religion in Ancient Etruria
Devins, Dieux et Démons: R egards sur l a religion de l’E trurie antique,
translated by Jane K. Whitehead
C S
Satire and th e Threat of Speech: Horace’s Satires, Book
P
John Henderson, translator and commentator
Asinaria: The One about th e Asses
P D. R
Ulysses in Bl ack: Ralph Ellison, Classicism, and African American Literature
P R
John G. Younger, editor
Imperium and C osmos: Augustus and th e Northern Campus M artius
P J. J
Ovid before Exile: Art and P unishment in th e Metamorphoses
V L K
Pandora’s Senses: The Feminine Character of the Ancient Text