Women’s Social Bonds in Greek and Roman Comedy
A dissertation submitted to the
Graduate School
of the University of Cincinnati
in partial fulfillment of the
requirements for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy (Ph.D.)
in the Department of Classics
of the College of Arts and Sciences
2011
by
Anne C. Feltovich
B.A. Grinnell College – Grinnell, IA 2003
Committee Chair: Kathryn Gutzwiller, Ph.D.
Committee Members: Holt Parker, Ph.D.
Susan Prince, Ph.D.
Abstract
This project evaluates a range of social relationships between women in Greek and
Roman comedy, focusing on the four authors from whom we have the most extant material:
Aristophanes, Menander, Plautus, and Terence. I examine how social and familial bonds between
women affect the risks they are willing to take on behalf of other women in their social circles.
Scholarship on women in comedy has focused on their relationships to men, but my research
takes the study of women in a new direction by evaluating their relationships with each other.
Although comedy itself focuses on the social world of men, I am able to uncover significant
information about women’s subculture in comedy by reading the plays from an alternative
perspective. References to relationships between women are scattered and often indirect, but by
compiling the evidence I demonstrate in Chapter 2 that the depiction of women’s social networks
is consistent across all four authors. With this background, I examine the bonds between women
more closely in the remaining chapters. Chapter 3 looks at three plays of Aristophanes, in which
large communities of women cooperate to improve the lives of all women, often requiring
individuals to take personal risks for the betterment of the group. Chapter 4 investigates
relationships between courtesans in New Comedy, a genre in which this type of character
sometimes features prominently. A close reading of the texts makes it apparent that courtesans
act not just as a result of economic constraints, but equally because of emotional bonds with
friends and family members. Finally, Chapter 5 examines instances of ethical deliberation by
females in New Comedy, showing that women of all social classes exhibit ethical behavior even
when it requires serious social and physical risks.
ii
© Anne C. Feltovich 2011
iii
Acknowledgements
This dissertation was made possible by the professional and personal encouragement of
many. I offer my profound thanks to my director, Kathryn Gutzwiller, who helped me find my
voice, and whose high standards have helped me produce a work of which I am proud. My
committee members, Holt Parker and Susan Prince, have offered invaluable advice and
guidance, and I am grateful for their careful reading. Any errors which remain are my own. A
number of Cincinnati faculty have also contributed greatly to my professional and intellectual
development, including Barbara Burrell, Harry Gotoff, William Johnson, and Kathleen Lynch.
I have been the fortunate recipient of a number of grants, including the University
Distinguished Graduate Student Fellowship, the University Graduate Scholarship, the Louise
Taft Semple Scholarship, and the Fulbright-Hays Grant. My research would not have been
possible without the John Miller Burnam Classics Library and the assistance of its very
knowledgeable staff, Jacquie Riley, David Ball, and Mike Braunlin. I am also indebted to the
American School of Classical Studies at Athens and its Blegen Library. Additional thanks go to
Kirk Ormand of Oberlin College, who was generous with his time and advice while we were at
the American School and I was far from my usual mentors.
Finally, I would not be who I am without the support of my very large, very academic
family and a number of wonderful friends. My life is enriched by Alder Brannin, Maccabee
White, and the unfailing support of Allison Sterrett-Krause, who has been my dearest friend
since my first week in Cincinnati. My parents (Joan and Paul) and siblings (Ellen and Andy)
have always believed in me, pushing and pulling me towards the finish line, never doubting that I
would make it. I dedicate this work to my mother, whose fight for women in academia made my
career, and my dreams, possible.
iv
Table of Contents
Chapter 1. Introduction ................................................................................................................... 1 A. Studies of Women in Comedy ............................................................................................... 5 B. Relationships between Women in Other Genres.................................................................. 14 C. Relationships between Women in Comedy ......................................................................... 21 D. Conclusion ........................................................................................................................... 28 Chapter 2. Female Social Networks in Comedy........................................................................... 30 A. Defining a Woman’s Social Network .................................................................................. 31 B. Occasions for Women to Congregate................................................................................... 40 C. The Role of the Social Network........................................................................................... 48 i. Aristophanes’ Lysistrata .................................................................................................... 49 ii. Menander’s Samia ............................................................................................................ 50 iii. Plautus’ Casina................................................................................................................ 53 iv. Terence’ Adelphoe ........................................................................................................... 57 D. Conclusion ........................................................................................................................... 63 Chapter 3. Solidarity by Gender: The Women of Aristophanes................................................... 64 A. Thesmophoriazusae: Women, Men, and the Public Discourse about Gender Roles in the
Home......................................................................................................................................... 66 B. Lysistrata: Women, Men, and the Public Discourse about Military Policy......................... 74 C. Ecclesiazusae: Women, Men, and the Public Discourse about Government....................... 90 D. Conclusion: Gender and Public Voice in Aristophanes....................................................... 98 Chapter 4. Solidarity by Class: Relationships between Courtesans ........................................... 100 A. Menander’s Dis Exapaton and Synaristosai ...................................................................... 105 B. Plautus’ Bacchides: Sisters and Business Partners ............................................................ 107 C. Plautus’ Asinaria: Mothers and Daughters in the Trade .................................................... 115 D. Plautus’ Cistellaria: Friendship between Courtesans ........................................................ 125 i. Solidarity by ordo ............................................................................................................ 126 ii. Friendship between two young courtesans: Gymnasium and Selenium ........................ 129 iii. Friendship between two retired courtesans: Syra and Melaenis.................................... 131 iv. When friendship is at odds with motherhood ................................................................ 133 v. Mother and daughter: Melaenis and Selenium ............................................................... 135 v
vi. Citizens, courtesans, and slaves: cross-class relationships ............................................ 139 vii. Summary....................................................................................................................... 143 E. Terence’s Eunuch: Affection for a Foster Sister ................................................................ 144 F. Conclusion .......................................................................................................................... 153 Chapter 5: Ethical Deliberation among Women in New Comedy.............................................. 155 A. Plautus’ Stichus: Sisters, Wives, and Daughters (in that Order)........................................ 156 B. Plautus’ Casina: Friendship between Established Matronae ............................................. 165 C. Terence’ Hecyra: Four Women in a Quandary.................................................................. 176 i. Myrrhina’s Choice ........................................................................................................... 178 ii. Sostrata’s Choice ............................................................................................................ 184 iii. Bacchis’ Choice............................................................................................................. 187 iv. Philumena’s Choice ....................................................................................................... 195 v. Summary ......................................................................................................................... 196 D. Menander’s Epitrepontes: A Courtesan Meets her Lover’s Wife...................................... 198 E. Menander’s Samia: The Concubine Next Door ................................................................. 208 F. Conclusion .......................................................................................................................... 219 Chapter 6. Concluding Remarks ................................................................................................. 221 Works Cited ................................................................................................................................ 224 vi
Chapter 1. Introduction
Mulier mulieri mage convenit.
A woman is best to meet with a woman.
(Terence Phormio 726)
Most summaries of New Comedy will start out with something like this: “A young man
has fallen in love …” His relationship woes are what we are supposed to see, and usually what
we do see the first time we read a New Comic play. In the Phormio of Terence, a young man
named Antipho has concocted a dishonest scheme by which he succeeds in marrying the girl of
his dreams, all while his father, Demipho, is out of town and ignorant of the situation. In the
meantime, Demipho has made arrangements with his best friend, Chremes, for their two children
to wed. When he learns that Antipho has married another without his permission, Demipho and
Chremes decide to dissolve the existing marriage. From the perspective of the play, it is a minor
obstacle for the two patriarchs, but from the perspective of the girl – a perspective that we are not
encouraged to take – it is potentially devastating. This poor, teenage girl has finally attained the
status that young citizen girls have been taught their self-worth depends upon – wife – but now
she will lose it immediately. Instead, she will be marked as a divorced and rejected woman,
falling from the highest status to the lowest. The men are not unaware of how the divorce would
affect her, but it does not deter them in the least. They decide to find her another husband and
convince her that he is an even better match. In other words, they will lie, couching their rotten
and selfish motives in the guise of a favor to the girl. Worried perhaps that she will see through
their plan, they do not have the courage to personally confront her. They decide, therefore, to
send Chremes’ wife to have a woman-to-woman talk with her. Mulier mulieri mage convenit (“a
woman is best to meet with a woman,” 726), he says.
1
Although much of Greek and Roman literature was written by men and for men, with
precious little female-authored literature remaining, male authors nonetheless show an awareness
of women’s subculture. In the Phormio example, the playwright understands that women interact
socially with other women in a very different way than they interact with men, and that their
interactions serve an important function within the dominant culture. A married woman would
have more success than a man in convincing the young girl that the alternative arrangements are
in her best interest. The meeting between the girl and Chremes’ wife is not shown on stage.
Rather, it is only hinted at with this one line, a minor detail in this fictional world. Often in the
background, and sometimes even in the foreground, a work of literature shows women
interacting with other women. These are the interactions that I investigate in this dissertation.
The literary representation of female subculture in Aristophanes, Menander, Plautus, and
Terence is consistent, as I will demonstrate in Chapter 2. My study is a literary one, rather than a
social historical one: the women of comedy are fictional characters, as are the men, and to use
them as evidence for social realities in ancient Athens and Rome would require a different kind
of study, one which I am not undertaking at this time. The women of comedy may indeed reflect
real Greeks and Romans, albeit filtered through a specific lens, and the questions and
conclusions uncovered in my study will be useful for future projects that evaluate women’s
relationships from a literary, anthropological, or historical perspective.
Although ample attention has been paid to the women of comedy, the focus has been on
their relationship to men, or the construction of gender more broadly, which still views women in
contrast with men. This approach to reading the comedies is one that perhaps comes naturally,
since readers are encouraged to adopt the perspective of the author. Rabinowitz issues a call to
arms for a new approach:
2
Moreover, until quite recently, discussions about women in antiquity focused on their
social status, which was determined by their ties to men (father, husband); that focus led
scholars to overlook women’s relationships to other women.1
While her collected volume, Among Women, co-edited with Auanger, ambitiously aims to
uncover social historical realities of relationships (largely erotic in nature) between women, I
present a more focused literary study of relationships between women in comedy. There are
many and interesting examples of women interacting in these plays, providing ample material
that has unfortunately received little attention thus far, an oversight that this dissertation aims to
correct. In the chapters that follow, I evaluate a range of social relationships between female
characters in Aristophanes, Menander, Plautus, Terence, the four comic authors from whom we
have enough material to analyze. Using a technique encouraged by feminist scholars and
championed by Judith Fetterley in her book, The Resisting Reader, it is possible to read these
plays from a perspective other than the author intended.2 New Comedy in particular seems to beg
for this alternative kind of reading, since women play a prominent role in this genre. In fact, the
focus on women and domestic matters generally increases in the Hellenistic period, (in which
Greek New Comedy was written, from which Roman Comedy is derived). Literature of this era
privileges a drastically new perspective than the Classical period,3 and Gutzwiller and Michelini
suggest that the importance of this shift has been overlooked. The historically narrow focus of
Classics as a discipline has caused scholars to read Hellenistic literature through the lens of
masculine values, and often dismiss it as inferior because it fails to adhere to those values.
Winkler encourages us “to read our texts from several angles, seeing in them both honest
pretensions and cover-ups, just as informants try to manipulate an anthropological observer by
1
2
3
Rabinowitz and Auanger 2002: 2.
Fetterley 1978.
Gutzwiller and Michelini 1991: 74-75.
3
presenting themselves in the best light.”4 The Greek New Comic poets paid great attention to
women and their relationships, and it is time for scholars to take a close look at the ample
evidence that the ancient authors have left to us.
This approach has allowed me to present new interpretations of several much discussed
scenes, bringing to light motivations that have often been missed by previous scholars. For
example, despite the scholarly characterization of many Plautine meretrices as greedy, there are
several instances in which a courtesan voluntarily forfeits profit not because she is a good, kindhearted hooker who loves her boyfriend as much as he loves her (for these examples have been
discussed in scholarship at length), but because a mother wants her daughter to be happy, as in
the Asinaria, or a girl wants to help her distraught friend, as in the Cistellaria (both plays will be
discussed in Chapter 4). This aspect of their relationships has received little scholarly attention.
While some conversations between women are overtly about their relationships with men, they
nonetheless tell us something about these women’s relationship with each other, if we are willing
to look beneath the surface. The two sisters of the Stichus (treated in Chapter 5) discuss whether
they should remain married to their absent husbands or take new ones, as their father desires.
Their arguments, however, speak not just to their identities as wives and daughters, but as sisters
who desire to alleviate each other’s distress, and who need each other’s support if they are to
oppose their father’s authority. These women’s relationships with each other color their
interactions as much as, if not more than, their relationships with the men in their lives. My study
takes women in comedy in a new direction by evaluating their relationships not with men but
with each other.
4
Winkler 1990: 5.
4
A. Studies of Women in Comedy
Since the Greek and Roman literary record largely reflects the lives and viewpoints of
men, scholars have rightfully felt like the female experience was missing from these works. As
such, early studies of women in ancient literature were marked by a desire to uncover the voices
and experiences of actual women. Rabinowitz draws our attention to the enormous difficulty of
this task:
In brief, we have no direct access to “women’s relations to women” – no actual voices,
no recording – only representations. Moreover, ancient culture was male dominated, and
except for the fragments of Sappho and some few later women poets, the material
remaining to us was produced by men. Thus they are more remote still from women’s
actual experience. Our literary sources are further distorted because they are often
embedded in discourses of invective, satire, and insult. Thus there are many layers
between us in the present and women in the past.5
Because of the difficulties that Rabinowitz outlines in uncovering the reality of women’s lives,
the theoretical perspective that has emerged in the last few decades is that we must instead look
at literary representation of women and how they intersect with social institutions.6 Many have
shown that, as literary representations, “women may be viewed as male constructs appropriated
by men for the purpose of speaking about male concerns rather than as simple reflections of
social reality.”7 Henderson comments that this model is “certainly valid, but is probably too
narrowly drawn.”8 While the interactions between women can often tell us something about the
relationships between men, they also tell us something about how male authors viewed women.9
There are ample texts to be mined for interactions between women, and if the reader asks not,
“What am I supposed to get out of this interaction,” but instead, “What can I get out of this
5
Rabinowitz and Auanger 2002: 2.
McClure 1999: 4.
7
McClure 1999: 5, referring to Padel 1983; Foley 1988; Halperin 1990b; Zeitlin 1996; and
Stehle 1997.
8
Henderson 1996: 29.
9
Henderson 1996: 20.
6
5
interaction,” many new insights will arise. Winkler sees a double consciousness in Sappho’s
poetry, demonstrating that she is well versed in both male and female culture: “Because men
define and exhibit their language and manners as the culture and segregate women’s language
and manners as subculture, inaccessible to and protected from extra-familial men, women are in
the position of knowing two cultures where men know only one.” 10 The Phormio example
shows not just how two men try to manipulate a young girl in order to cement their friendship
with each other, but also how women inhabit and communicate within a distinct subculture
operating parallel to the dominant male culture. While the women must be culturally conversant
in both spheres in order to survive, the men are completely at a loss when it comes to operating
in the female world, and so must designate a woman to represent their interests there.
In Old Comedy, there has been a scholarly focus on the dramatic representation of
gender. Drawing from Xenophon’s Oikonomicos, Shaw equated women in Greek literature with
the sphere of the oikos and men with the polis and argued that the Lysistrata investigates what
happens when women intrude into the male sphere.11 The playwright is then charged with
restoring the balance. The qualities that the polis currently ignores, Shaw argues, can be found in
the oikos, maintained by women who have been cut off from men’s society. By dramatizing the
conflict of oikos and polis, the playwright shows the shortcomings of male civic virtues.12 Shaw
has made explicit the underlying assumption of Vaio, that the women in Aristophanes represent
domesticity, in contrast to the male sphere of politics.13
10
Winkler 1990: 174, from his essay “Double Consciousness in Sappho’s Lyrics” (162-87). In
his essay, “The Laughter of the Oppressed” (188-209 in the same work), Winkler attempts to
uncover evidence for female subculture in male-authored literature on female ritual activity.
11
Shaw 1975: 256.
12
Shaw 1975: 266.
13
Vaio 1973.
6
Foley rejects the oversimplification of women:oikos::men:polis. This association in
scholarship reflects a division noticed by the ancient Greeks in their philosophical texts, but the
problem with this equation is that, “[w]omen in drama do not confine themselves to the domestic
and religious spheres to which they were relegated in reality.”14 They are sometimes active in the
political sphere, as in the Lysistrata, and at other times they fail to fulfill their domestic duties.
Some women, like Lysistrata, intrude upon the polis in a respectable way in order to restore
natural balance. These inversions show that the original equation is the ideal; violators of the
cultural norms are usually punished and the rightful order is restored by the end of the play. This
ideal, however, is rarely seen in Greek drama. Instead, we see a “reciprocal model of the relation
between public and private, male and female, which helps us to define a norm against which to
read the inversions and aberrations of drama.”15 Since drama deals with social crisis, we often
look at exceptions to the rule. Foley revises Shaw’s model: men and women share a stake in both
oikos and polis, but play different roles in each. The women of the Ecclesiazusae and Lysistrata
temporarily redefine their roles in the sphere of the polis only because men have neglected their
duties in the polis (in the case of the Ecclesiazusae) and the oikos (in the case of the Lysistrata),
but with the ultimate goal of restoring men and women to their traditional roles in each sphere.16
Following Foley, Taaffe argues, “Aristophanes considers the feminine to be an essential element
of the polis, yet one controlled and represented by men.”17
There has been great interest, too, in showing how individual female heroines in
Aristophanes are given character traits conventionally assigned to male figures, through which
they achieve comic success. Scholars argue that Lysistrata is able to unify the women and
14
15
16
17
Foley 1981: 151.
Foley 1981: 161.
Foley 1982: 5-6.
Taaffe 1993: 13.
7
compel the men to end the war only because she is an atypical female, unconcerned with her
identity as wife and mother, and skilled at oratory like a man.18 Foley again changes the dialogue
slightly, arguing that Lysistrata is successful because she transcends the follies of both sexes.19
De Luca looks at the Ecclesiazusae as a gendered revolution, contrasted with the masculine
revolution staged by Aristophanes in the Knights.20 In the approaches discussed above, scholars
examine the female characters of Aristophanes as gendered beings: woman is defined in contrast
to man as unmarked case, and sometimes she is defined as the very opposite of man.
There is a great deal of gender bending in the three so-called “women plays” of
Aristophanes: Thesmophoriazusae, Lysistrata, and Ecclesiazusae. It is an obvious locus of
humor and metatheatricality for the playwright, since dramatic conventions meant that female
characters were played by male actors. In the Ecclesiazusae, male actors play women who
impersonate men, and in the Thesmophoriazusae there is a male actor dressed as an effeminate
male (Agathon), a male actor playing a man impersonating a woman (the Kinsman), and a male
actor playing a man who assumes various male and female roles throughout the play (Euripides).
Issues of gender bending, cross-dressing, and the representation of gender in these plays have
recently been addressed in the works of Taaffe, Zeitlin, Stehle, and Tzanetou, among others.21
Zeitlin’s seminal work shows that the Thesmophoriazusae is a play about boundaries
between male and female, between tragedy and comedy, between theater (tragedy and
comedy) and festival (ritual and myth), between festival (the Thesmophoria) and festival
(the Dionysiac, which provides the occasion for its performance and determines its comic
essence), and finally between bounded forms (myth, ritual, and drama) and the more fluid
‘realities’ of everyday life.22
18
19
20
21
22
Henderson 1980: 169, 187; Taaffe 1993: 61.
Foley 1982: 5.
De Luca 2005.
Taaffe 1991; Zeitlin 1996; Stehle 2002; Tzanetou 2002.
Zeitlin 1996: 377.
8
While such studies of gender and mimesis are fascinating and an important step towards
understanding the literary representation of women in these plays, they nonetheless restrict the
significance of female characters. My study is not about defining gender boundaries: it is not
about what makes women women and what makes men men; it is not about showing those
boundaries by transgressing them; it is not about the construction and cultural reproduction of
gender. It is about how women interact with other women, irrespective of gendered identities and
not as contrasted with men.
If one reads Aristophanes’ plays for evidence of the culturally defined construction of
gender, the misogynistic element becomes readily apparent. Gardner argues that Aristophanes’
depictions of women reflect male anxieties about the extent of female power within the oikos,
since women are ultimately beyond their control.23 Such anxieties are obvious in many of the
comic stereotypes regarding women, such as their insatiable sexual appetite and their
predilection for importing suppositious children into the household. Finnegan looks
comprehensively at the indications of misogyny in the Aristophanic representation of women,
discussing his depictions of marriage, female sexuality, and the association between women and
drink.24 While one could certainly offer a well-supported argument that women are not
mentioned in the plays without at least some hint of misogyny, their appearances in drama are
nevertheless set against a background of everyday, mundane interactions that do not necessarily
carry a value judgment, positive or negative. In this dissertation, I weed through the negative
characterizations to uncover these innocuous interactions.
Since the genres of New and Old Comedy differ quite a bit, studies of women in New
Comedy have focused on different issues. New Comedy often revolves around the relationships
23
24
Gardner 1989.
Finnegan 1995.
9
of the citizen male, and for that reason much work has been done evaluating the women of these
plays through the lens of social status, categories that are defined from the male viewpoint.25
Scholars often analyze the women of New Comedy by type (e.g. meretrix, uxor dotata, virgo,
and nupta, to use the Latin terms), an interest that stems largely from the ancient recognition of
stock characters and themes, which the New Comic poets appropriated and modified in creative
ways. Donatus says that Menander’s hetairai were either ἰταμαὶ καὶ θρασεῖαι (“forward and
bold”) or χρησταἰ καὶ ἀντερώσαι (“good and loving in return,” Quaest. Conv. 7.8.712C).
Terence acknowledges that he inherited a set of stock characters for Roman comedy, among
them meretrices males (Eun. 37), and Plautus produces a similar list, including the periurus leno,
the miles gloriosus, and the meretrix mala (Capt. 57-58). He boasts that his Captivi will be an
unusual play precisely because it does not contain any of those expected characters. Donatus
says that Terence dared to make socrus bonas and meretrices honesti cupidas (“courtesans
desirous of virtue,” ad Hec. 774). Perhaps because the ancients viewed New Comic characters
through the lens of stock types, modern scholars have been inspired to view the women of these
plays through ancient eyes. It is easy to slot the female characters of New Comedy into these
categories partly because they were written with these categories in mind.
One type of woman in particular, the Greek hetaira or Roman meretrix, has captured
much scholarly attention. Henry’s comprehensive work on the hetairai of Menander sets out to
assess “Menander’s characterization of courtesans within the Greek comic tradition and his
contribution to the ‘type’ of the bona meretrix.”26 In this pursuit, Henry makes valuable
contributions to the literary depiction of hetairai in Greek literature and Menander more broadly.
25
Krieter-Spiro 1997 presents a comprehensive study of the women of New Comedy and social
status.
26
Henry 1985: 2.
10
The desire to analyze and categorize the courtesans of Greek New Comedy within the framework
of “good” and “bad” persists in scholarship, making its way into the study of Plautus and
Terence, especially those plays of Terence which derive from Menander.27 The interpretation of
New Comic courtesans as good or bad privileges the male perspective, since courtesans are
characterized as good only if they put their lovers’ desires before their own needs, and bad if
they act otherwise. To better understand the literary depiction of courtesans in Greek and Roman
comedy, several scholars have delved into their social historical background. Fantham uses the
evidence from Menander, Plautus, and Terence to discuss the social realities with which
courtesans were faced, including above all else the need for courtesans to make as much money
as possible in their youth in order to support themselves in old age.28 Her work highlights the fact
that the negative judgment of “greedy” is inherently unfair, since these women have no other
option than to maximize profits, which are extracted from male customers. Several recent works,
including those of McGinn, Faraone and McClure, and Glazebrook and Henry, treat the realia
Greek and Roman prostitution more comprehensively, drawing evidence from a wide variety of
literary, artistic, legal, and historical sources.29 With this background to the social realities of
courtesans, I look past their characterization as good, bad, greedy, or loving, and instead
investigate what characterizes their relationships with each other and with other women. This
sometimes includes financial needs, but also includes emotional needs, and the bonds of family
and friendship that affect all human beings.
Rape plays an exceptionally prominent role in New Comedy, and for that reason has
caught the attention of many. Often it serves as a plot device that allows the young citizen male
27
On Menander: Brown 1990; on Plautus: Fantham 2002; on Terence: Gilula 1980, Knorr 1995;
on Menander and Terence: Gruen 1991, Zeitlin 2005.
28
Fantham 1975.
29
McGinn 2004; Faraone and McClure 2006; Glazebrook and Henry 2011.
11
to marry the girl whom he most desires.30 Rosivach discusses the rapes of New Comedy
comprehensively, examining the affect that the incident has on a young girl’s social relationships
with her mother (when her mother is her guardian) and her potential marriage partners.31
Sommerstein contrasts the literary role of rape in Aristophanes and Menander, showing that rape
in Old Comedy is only suggested or imagined and served as a way for old men to rejuvenate
themselves.32 In New Comedy, although there is some recognition of the trauma of rape in the
moment, it is treated as temporary trauma, and it receives no more than a passing glance in the
plays. Smith shows that Terence’s characters (both male and female) recognize the seriousness
of the crime, and the audience would understand that rape upsets civic order.33 The depiction of
rape’s physical and emotional trauma in Terence is discussed by James, who shows that “[t]he
men recognize their violation of social boundaries, but the women recognize – and articulate –
the personal devastation of the raped girls.”34 There is no suggestion that the girl might find it
horrific to be married to her rapist. Instead, the focus of the plays is more on how good the
marriage is for her socially, since it saves her from ignominy.35 Omitowoju presents a detailed
study of the depiction of rape in Menander against the backdrop of Classical Athens, and the
collected volume of Deacy and Pierce looks at rape in antiquity more comprehensively.36 The
30
Fantham 1975: 53-54.
Rosivach 1998. The book provides detailed analysis of each instance of rape in New Comedy,
organized thematically. Of particular interest is Chapter 3, “Mothers and Daughters,” which
treats the rapes of girls who are under their mother’s care, both citizen girls whose father is
absent and young courtesans who live in a female-headed household. Leisner-Jensen 2002: 175190 provides a short, descriptive catalogue of rapes in New Comedy.
32
Sommerstein 1998b: 103, 109. This work also provides a catalogue of suggested and
imagined rapes in Aristophanes (105-8).
33
Smith 1994: 23, 25-26, 31.
34
James 1998: 41.
35
Sommerstein 1998b: 103.
36
Omitowoju 2002 and Deacy and Pierce 1997. See also Omitowoju 1997 on the legal treatment
of rape in Athens.
31
12
chapter by Pierce in particular addresses the literary portrayal of rape in New Comedy, but the
article has more to offer in the way of summary than analysis.37 Although rape plays a prominent
role in the fictional life of the New Comic citizen girl, the focus on this element overshadows
other aspects of her life. In particular, the story of her rape is the story of her relationship with
men, both the man who raped her (the adulescens, who is also her future husband) and the man
whose rights this rape violates (her kyrios). I am more interested in understanding her
relationship with other women, not just in respect to her rape, as James and Smith have done, but
in many aspects of her life.
Finally, there have been several studies on women’s speech, noting the particular
linguistic markers of feminine speech and which characters exhibit these more than others. Bain
evaluates female speech in Menander, and Martin looks particularly at the speech of a female
slave in Terence, showing the linguistic markers not just of her gender but also her social
status.38 Dorota Dutsch investigates the association of women with persuasion and flattery in
Plautus, and she looks more comprehensively at female speech genres in Roman Comedy in her
recent book, Feminine Discourses in Roman Comedy.39 McClure studies the representation of
women’s speech in Attic drama, with a view towards understanding its social and political
function. She looks at how male and female discursive practices are delineated, identifying the
female speech genres of gossip, seduction, lamentation, and ritual speech. In drama, McClure
sees an organized effort by men to suppress the voices of women, even when they speak within
the limited ritual contexts allowed to them; when women are able to overcome this silence, they
37
38
39
Pierce 1997.
Bain 1984 and Martin 1995.
Dutsch 2005 and Dutsch 2008, respectively.
13
are seen as disruptive to social order.40 This book was followed shortly by a collected volume on
women’s voices in Greek literature, in which a number of influential scholars take different
methodological approaches to female voice and the suppression thereof.41 Most noteworthy for
my study is Griffith’s chapter on the women of Sophocles’ Antigone, because he shows that there
are as many female voices as there are females in this play, as there is no unifying set of
characteristics.42 Although these studies tell us many and interesting things about the way male
authors conceptualized female voices, I prefer, as Griffith, to understand the female characters of
comedy as individuals.
B. Relationships between Women in Other Genres
While I am focusing on comedy, Greek and Latin authors in a variety of genres examine
relationships between women. A not uncommon literary trope is debate between sisters, as in the
Stichus (to be discussed in Chapter 5). Rather than having an individual examine her ethical
dilemma in a monologue, the playwright explores conflicting motivations by showing a debate
between two sisters. Three well-known examples are the debates between Antigone and Ismene
in Sophocles’ Antigone, Medea and Chalkiope in Apollonius’ Argonautica 3, and Dido and Anna
in Vergil’s Aeneid 4. In the Sophocles play, Foley demonstrates that Antigone’s decisions are
shaped by her social role: as virgin daughter she opts to forgo marriage in order to bury her
brother, which is part of a larger endeavor to avenge her father by honoring his line. The
contrasting voice of Ismene, however, shows that Antigone’s morality is not precisely
representative of her gender.43 Rather, Antigone’s ethics are unique: whereas Creon operates in
40
McClure 1999: 6-7.
Lardinois and McClure 2001.
42
Griffith 2001: 121, 136.
43
Foley 2001: 172-76. For an analysis of how Antigone and Ismene’s speech patterns reflect
their different social and ethical positions, see Griffith 2001: 126-136.
41
14
an absolute system, committed to the general principle that one should always act in the interest
of the state, Antigone’s morality is relative to her specific situation. She develops her ethical
position in this particular circumstance “out of her own familial experience and in the specific
context of the burial of her brother.”44 By gendering ethical positions, Foley argues, Sophocles is
able to publically explore moral complexities that he otherwise could not because the audience
would be less uncomfortable witnessing controversial ethics in female characters than in males.45
The debate between Antigone and her sister has some parallels to the debate between sisters in
Plautus’ Stichus: in this play both women are married (unlike Antigone and her sister) and of the
same social status, but they similarly weigh their social obligations to their father versus their
social obligations to their marital family.
The interaction between Medea and her sister, Chalkiope, in Apollonius’ Argonautica
(3.636-741) is unusual in that Medea consciously withholds information from her sister in order
to manipulate the situation so that Chalkiope, not Medea, is morally responsible for Medea’s
course of action. Because of the intervention of Aphrodite, Medea has fallen in love with Jason
and is driven by forces beyond her control to help him. Jason’s fate is intertwined with that of
Chalkiope’s sons, such that if Jason fails, Chalkiope’s sons will likely be killed. Medea
desperately wants to help Jason, but as a virgin daughter is ashamed to exercise moral autonomy
by scheming to help a man without her father’s knowledge (see lines 740-43). After much
hesitation and inner turmoil, she confronts her sister and expresses concern for her nephews,
omitting any information about her feelings for Jason and her true motives. She maneuvers the
conversation so that Chalkiope begs Medea to protect her nephews, requiring Medea to intercede
on Jason’s behalf. Thus Medea is able to do what she desires, but without the shame of being an
44
45
Foley 2001: 183.
Foley 2001: 116.
15
autonomous moral agent, a role that she feels she has no right to claim. That role is more
acceptable for Chalkiope, since she is expected to act in defense of her own sons. 46
Dido in Vergil’s Aeneid finds herself conflicted and seeks out her sister Anna for support
(4.1-53). Dido has fallen in love with Aeneas, which causes her great distress because she feels a
strong loyalty to her deceased husband, Sychaeus, and had previously vowed never to marry
again. Since Sychaeus was murdered by Dido’s greedy brother, Dido and Anna fled to a new
land and have no ties to their natal household. Anna argues that Dido is entitled to love and
children, and that her political situation would benefit by a strong marriage. The two women
effectively lay out Dido’s social obligations: since she is cut off from her natal family, Dido as a
woman believes her greatest loyalty is to her spouse, although deceased. Anna, meanwhile,
views her obligations in terms of her role as leader, not woman: not only does Dido deserve
happiness, but she is required to make a strategic alliance on behalf of her people, who are
currently in a weak position.
The decisions of Medea and Dido are presented in a very different fashion by Ovid in his
Heroides (12 and 7, respectively), where his characters analyze their decisions in retrospective
monologues. Each woman explains how the circumstances that preceded her act forced her hand,
making her decision (Medea’s to kill her children, Dido’s to kill herself) involuntary. In her
lament, Dido examines the ethicality of Aeneas’ actions, including choices he made and choices
he was forced into by fate. She ultimately presents Aeneas’ actions, for which he is only partly
responsible, as the direct cause of her own suicide. Medea ponders her own past choices to
betray her father, brother, and homeland, but puts the responsibility for her predicament on
Jason’s arrival; she does not precisely blame Jason, but rather fate, as did Dido. Both of Ovid’s
46
Although Foley 2001: 181-82 does not discuss this passage, I have interpreted Medea’s
behavior in light of Foley’s argument about Antigone, moral autonomy, and her virgin status.
16
poems acknowledge the literary tradition in which these women debate with their sisters, but
each is reduced to a passing comment. Dido says, Anna soror, soror Anna, meae male conscia
culpae (“Anna, my sister, my sister, Anna, wretched sharer in the knowledge of my fault,”
Heroides 7.190), and Medea reduces the Apollonius episode to five lines: Medea was upset, she
received her sister in her bedchamber, her sister prayed for Medea’s help, and Medea complied
on account of her feelings for Jason (Heroides 12.62-66). Rather than using debate between
sisters to analyze ethical choices as they happen, Ovid has used a reflective monologue to justify
an ethical position after the fact.
The depiction of everyday scenes, including those that feature women, becomes prevalent
in Hellenistic literature. Conversations between sisters, female friends, and courtesans are
common in Greek Comedy and its Roman derivatives, but they are also depicted in Theocritus,
Herodas, and Apollonius (as discussed above). Theocritus’ fifteenth Idyll is a charming look at a
conversation between two friends, married with children, who engage in gossip and chitchat as
they prepare to attend a festival. The scene and conversation have many things in common with
New Comedy: the focus on the small, mundane and intimate, such as eating, bathing, housework,
and religious rituals. In Idyll 15, Praxinoa and Gorgo discuss topics similar to those we see in
New Comedy: relationships, compliments to each other, complaints about their husbands, and
gossip about other women.
The mimes of Herodas and Sophron address similarly intimate and even vulgar subjects,
a characteristic of the genre. The focus on women in Hellenistic mimes is due in part to the
heavy influence of Sicilian mimes on the genre,47 but also reflects the increased interest in
women and domestic topics in Hellenistic literature. Herodas’ fourth mime illustrates women
47
Skinner 2001: 205.
17
engaged in religious ritual, sacrificing at a temple to Asclepius and discussing the temple
artwork. Marilyn Skinner demonstrates that this poem and Theocritus 15, which were written so
close together that we do not know which is older, derive from a shared literary tradition on
women viewing art, into which category Sophron’s lost “Women Viewing the Isthmian Festival”
probably fits.48 Goldhill notes that Theocritus 15 “does not merely perform ecphrases, but prepresents the performances of ecphrases.”49 By dramatizing women viewing, these poems add
another layer to the Hellenistic topos of ecphrasis: rather than giving us an evaluation of a
sophos, as so many epigrams do, these poems dramatize “the response of figures framed as
other, different from the Hellenistic poet – an ironic strategy of distancing which turns back on
the reader the requirement of evaluative response.”50 The setting for these poems, religious
festivals, were one of the few occasions for women to gather publically, and as I demonstrate in
Chapter 2, both Old and New Comedy use religious festivals as a socially acceptable way to
show women gathering in public: the women of Athens gather for the Thesmophoria in
Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae, the courtesan Chrysis hosts a festival for Adonis in
Menander’s Samia, and in Menander’s Epitrepontes and Terence’s Hecyra, citizen girls are
raped while attending all-night festivals (παννυχίς) with other women. A fragmentary mime of
unknown author appears to resemble the rape plot of these two plays: in the mime, a girl hides
her pregnancy, the result of a rape at an all-night festival, from her family.51 Women dining
together is another common scene type and the likely subject of Herodas’ very fragmentary ninth
mime, Aponestizomenai (“Women at Breakfast”), and Sophron’s even more fragmentary mime
possibly titled Synaristosai (“Women at Lunch”). Menander has a play of the same name, lost
48
Skinner 2001: 204.
Goldhill 1994: 216.
50
Goldhill 1994: 223.
51
Popular Mime fragment 13 in Henderson 2002: 360-61, 412-15.
49
18
but known to us through fragments and the mosaics at Mytilene, Pompeii, Zeugma, and Antioch.
Plautus’ Cistellaria, which is thought to be based upon Menander’s play, begins with a scene of
courtesans breakfasting.52
Herodas’ first mime features a dialogue between two courtesans, a type of scene that is
also prevalent in New Comedy. In the mime, a young courtesan, Meretriche, is stubbornly loyal
to her absent lover despite the efforts of her old nurse, Gyllis, to convince her that she must take
on other lovers to satisfy her financial needs. A mother-daughter pair in Plautus’ Asinaria engage
in a similar conversation. When we see this plot in Plautus’ Cistellaria, a courtesan mother tries
to convince her daughter, a foundling who has been raised as a courtesan, that she must take on
multiple lovers. Because the daughter is discovered to be a citizen girl, the tension between
mother and daughter takes on a new dimension: Plautus uses her resistance to taking multiple
lovers as a literary clue to her innate citizen character, ashamed at the idea of behaving like a
courtesan. The daughter’s refusal, moreover, ultimately puts her in a position to marry once her
citizen status is revealed.
Some themes of New Comedy reappear in later Greek and Latin literature in very
different format. Seneca the Elder’s Controversiae treat many variations on the theme of rape,
citing a law that the victim can either demand the death of the rapist or marriage to him. New
Comedy and the Controversiae share an unusual focus on marriage between a rapist and his
victim, a theme that surely occurs more often in this literature than in real life. The
Controversiae, however, examine the social phenomenon of rape from the perspective of the
girl’s father, covering several hypothetical scenarios in which the father’s desires are not met or
are not able to be met. Each piece treats the rape as an infraction against the father’s property,
52
The connection between the two plays was first proposed by Prehn 1916: 10 and is now
generally accepted.
19
whereas in New Comedy a rape (or seduction) is more often used as a plot device that allows a
young man to marry the girl he desires, as in Terence’s Eunuch and Adelphoe. Rape is also the
source of distress for a young man when he discovers that his new wife is carrying someone
else’s child, and in turn the means of his salvation when he discovers that he is the rapist and the
child is his, as in Menander’s Epitrepontes and Terence’s Hecyra. It can hardly be considered a
happy ending for the young bride who discovers that her husband is also her rapist, although it is
the only outcome that allows her to have a secure marriage and a roof over her head. It does,
however, benefit the young man: in each play, for different reasons, the girl is never given the
option of requesting the rapist’s death, because she is unaware of his identity until after the
wedding (Hecyra and Epitrepontes), or because her family arranges the marriage without her
knowledge (Eunuch), or because she is impoverished and fatherless and has no other financial
option than marriage (Adelphoe). The circumstances result in her marriage, fulfilling the social
and emotional desires of the rapist.
Interaction between courtesans is the setting for one of Lucian’s major works, Dialogues
of the Courtesans. These dialogues appear to have been directly influenced by New Comedy, and
a scholiast claims that Lucian’s hetairai were drawn from Menander.53 The seventh dialogue is
similar to Herodas’ mime and the conversations in Plautus’ Cistellaria and Asinaria: a young
courtesan girl fights with her mother about her desire to have only one lover. In fact, many of the
dialogues address the issue of financial necessity, a theme common in the comedies. Other
shared themes include courtesans lamenting about unfaithful lovers (dialogues 1-4, 12), lovers
who have grown disinterested or stopped coming around (10 and 11), the violence that
53
See Rabe 1906: 275 for the text of the scholia. Gilhuly 2006: 277 summarizes the evidence for
the influence of New Comedy on these dialogues. Particularly noteworthy is the work of Mras
1916, who demonstrated that the personal names of courtesans in these dialogues are drawn from
New Comedy.
20
accompanies jealous lovers (8 and 15), the difficulties of balancing multiple customers (9), the
unusualness of a courtesan who only desires one lover (12), and the courtesan business model of
a strict exchange rate of services for goods (14). Whereas the interaction between courtesans in
New Comedy is only part of a larger plot, Lucian’s dialogues focus entirely on the perspective of
the courtesan, and each explores just one or two out of a handful of literary tropes about
courtesans. The comedies, on the other hand, often combine several of these tropes into one play
because the dramatic format allows for more characters, more complex characters, and character
development.
C. Relationships between Women in Comedy
Within this rich tradition depicting relationships between women in Greek and Roman
literature, I have chosen to study the women of comedy. Because the scenes of women
interacting are often short and scattered throughout a text, I am looking at the combined evidence
of the two closely related genres, Old and New Comedy. In Chapter 2, I construct a literary
picture of a woman’s social network in comedy, using evidence from each of the four major
authors. The chapter defines the extent and make-up of female social circles, showing that it may
consist of family members, in-laws, neighbors, and household slaves. Whereas it is common for
a two or three women to gather in a private home to socialize, share a meal, attend to childbirth,
prepare for a wedding, or do chores, the only acceptable reason for a large-scale public gathering
of women is for religious purposes, usually a festival or funeral. Aristophanes’
Thesmophoriazusae is set entirely at one such festival, but these festivals receive only passing
comments in New Comedies and are never shown on stage.
The picture of female social networks is consistent across all four authors, with
exceptions for comic license. In Aristophanes, the networks are fantastically large, covering the
21
entire polis or multiple poleis, while their counterparts in New Comedy are smaller, sometimes
limited to one or two households. Since Aristophanes’ women gather in large groups, they must
either do so at socially approved religious gatherings, or they must do it in secret, pretending that
they are going to participate in a socially acceptable private gathering, such as breakfast with a
friend. The activities that women pretend to do in Aristophanes are precisely the kinds of
activities that women actually partake of in New Comedy, including lunching together or
attending to childbirth. The picture across all four authors is remarkably consistent, showing that
they draw from of a shared comic world regarding relationships between women. Since any
given play may have only one (or zero) example of women interacting, it is only when the
comedies are viewed in aggregate that we are able to understand that there is a consistent
representation of women’s subculture available for analysis. Against this background, I use the
remaining chapters of my dissertation to investigate how women interact within their social
networks.
The women of Aristophanes are treated separately (Chapter 3) because his portrayal of
women (and men) is political and broadly social, a substantial difference from the approach of
New Comedy. In the Lysistrata, Thesmophoriazusae, and Ecclesiazusae, I examine the conflict
between the needs of the individual woman and the gendered group, demonstrating that these
characters ultimately act for the good of women as a whole. Through unification they exercise
greater power than can be achieved by acting separately: they gain a public voice. While the
women of these plays have received much attention, it is their relationships that carry the most
significance, because their interactions are presented as the model for civic and political
alternatives to the status quo. In each play, they combine their smaller, local networks to create a
larger network that they mobilize to achieve their ends.
22
In line with the increasing interest of the Hellenistic era in domestic subject matter, New
Comedy focuses on more intimate relationships between two or three women, which I treat in
Chapters 4 and 5, looking first at the women of a specific type, the courtesans. Because New
Comic plays often follow the love interests of a young, citizen male, courtesans play a prominent
role in many plots, while dramatic conventions dictated that respectable citizen virgins could not
be shown on stage, a reflection of their real life seclusion.54 Since social conventions kept young
men and women apart, courtesans (or pseudo-courtesans, who are citizen foundlings raised as
prostitutes) were the only available figures with whom a young man could spend considerable
time and fall in love. For these reasons, such characters appear frequently in New Comedy and
inhabit a different social world than the citizen women, with whom they may have little contact.
Examining the relationships of courtesans in Plautus (Bacchides, Asinaria, Cistellaria) and
Terence (Eunuch), I show in Chapter 4 how their marginal position in society coupled with
mutual financial need can foster alliances. Of particular interest is how courtesans deal with
occasions where affection for a friend or family member is at odds with their financial needs. I
demonstrate that their relationships with each other are a significant motivating factor for their
actions.
In the final chapter (Chapter 5), I look more closely at instances of ethical deliberation by
women in New Comedy, taking examples from Plautus’ Stichus and Casina, Terence’s Hecyra,
and Menander’s Samia and Epitrepontes. Women of various social classes engage in such
deliberation, sometimes with other women, sometimes in monologue form. My analysis is set
against the ancient framework of Aristotle, whose influence on Menander is notable. The Stichus
is based on a Menandrian play, and the Hecyra is based on a play by Apollodorus, a play which
54
See below, page 37, for further explanation.
23
itself appears to have been influenced by Menander’s Epitrepontes.55 Diogenes Laertius (5.36)
tells us that Menander studied philosophy under the Theophrastus, and the peripatetic influence
on his work has been discussed by many.56 Tierney and Barigazzi in particular demonstrate the
parallels between Menander’s Perikeiromene and Aristotle’s systematization of voluntary and
involuntary acts in the Poetics, Nichomachean Ethics, and Rhetoric.57
While discussing tragedy in his Poetics, Aristotle describes moral choice as a function of
character (ἦθος):
ἔστιν δὲ ἦθος μὲν τὸ τοιοῦτον ὃ δηλοῖ τὴν προαίρεσιν, ὁποία τις ἐν οἷς οὐκ ἔστι
δῆλον ἢ προαιρεῖται ἢ φεύγει …
(6.1450b8-10)
For character is the thing that reveals moral choice, what kinds of things someone
chooses or rejects in times when it is not clear …58
Any action may be the result of a choice, for there is always the option of not acting (φεύγει).
Aristotle is specifically interested in situations in which the choice is not clear. There are three
major components of his statement that need further investigation: character, the difference
between choosing something and avoiding something, and the concept of voluntary choice, a
phrase which Aristotle uses to describe instances in which the way forward is not clear. In his
Nichomachean Ethics, Aristotle elaborates on each of these. The term ἦθος, whence English
“ethics” (via the adjective ἠθικός), is not adequately represented by the English word
“character.” It does not refer to qualities that one is born with, but rather the character that one
has developed through habits and activities, and is best revealed through choice (ἡ προάιρεσις,
NE 1111b5). Aristotle distinguishes between choosing to do something (ἡ αἵρεσις), of which the
three motives are the noble, the expedient, and the pleasant (τὸ καλόν, τὸ συμφέρον, τὸ ἡδύ);
55
Capps 1981: 42.
Tierney 1936; Webster 1960: 195-219; Barigazzi 1965: 69-86; Gaiser 1967; Arnott 1968: 8-9.
57
Tierney 1936 249-50; Barigazzi 1965: 80.
58
All translations are my own unless otherwise noted.
56
24
and choosing not to do something (ἡ φυγή), of which the three motives are the base, the
harmful, and the painful (τὸ αἰσχρόν, τὸ βλαβερόν, τὸ λυπερόν, NE 1104b30-32). In many of
my examples from comedy, the choice that I evaluate is the choice between acting and not
acting.
Not all acts, however, are truly the result of ethical decisions. To qualify as such, one
must choose to act with knowledge, one must choose the act deliberately and for its own sake,
and the act must come from a fixed and permanent disposition of one’s character (NE 1105a2834). These first two qualifications relate to Aristotle’s distinction between voluntary and
involuntary acts (τὸ ἑκούσιον καὶ τὸ ἀκούσιον, NE 1109b32-33). An act is involuntary when
done under compulsion or through ignorance (βίᾳ ἢ δι’ ἄγνοιαν, NE 1109b35-1110a1). He
elaborates on the meaning of βίᾳ:
βίαιον δὲ οὗ ἡ ἀρχὴ ἔξωθεν, τοιαύτη οὖσα ἐν ᾗ μηδὲν συμβάλλεται ὁ πράττων ἢ ὁ
πάσχων, οἷον εἰ πνεῦμα κομίσαι ποι ἢ ἄνθρωποι κύριοι ὄντες. 59
(NE 1110a1-4)
An act is compulsory if its origin is from without, such as an act in which the agent – or
the one passively experiencing – contributes nothing, for example when a wind, or people
who have power over him, carries him somewhere.
“An act whose origins are without” becomes his working definition of involuntary, and he
proceeds to debate many examples in which that origin is an external force. The two above are
taken as obvious, but other situations are less clear: an act done through fear could be voluntary
or involuntary (NE 1110a4-34), and he states that an involuntary action chosen in preference to a
given alternative is καθ’ αὑτὰ μὲν ἀκούσιά ἐστι, νῦν δὲ καὶ ἀντὶ τῶνδε ἑκούσια
(“intrinsically involuntary but voluntary under the circumstances,” NE 1110b5). Antigone’s
decision to bury her brother in Sophocles’ play is a good example of such an act: she is
compelled by familial duty to bury her brother, and in that respect her action is involuntary, but
59
All text of the Nicomachean Ethics is from Bywater 1890.
25
she is also compelled not to bury him by the decree of Kleon. In choosing between two
involuntary acts, her decision to bury her brother is voluntary under the circumstances.
In addition to force, the second kind of involuntary acts is one done through ignorance
(δι᾽ ἀγνοία), which applies to many New Comedy plots and not a few tragic plots. These acts
can be voluntary or involuntary depending on the circumstances. An act is involuntary if it
causes the agent pain and regret (τὸ ἐπίλυπον καὶ ἐν μεταμελείᾳ, NE 1110b19), but if the agent
does not regret it, it cannot be considered involuntary, nor is it truly voluntary since it was done
through ignorance. Instead, Aristotle labels the doer a “non-voluntary” agent (οὐχ ἑκών, NE
1110b23, a masculine participle describing the agent, rather than the neuter adjective, ἀκούσιον,
describing the act). Although it is quite common for the men of New Comedy to make decisions
in ignorance, it is much rarer for the women. In fact, several plays revolve around poor decisions
made by men who are unaware of crucial facts deliberately concealed by the women, as in
Terence’s Hecyra and Menander’s Samia. There are, however, many plays in which women
make decisions based on inaccurate knowledge of a foundling’s citizen status, such as Plautus’
Cistellaria. Ariana Traill thoroughly investigates the literary role of mistakes about a young
woman’s status or character in the Menandrian corpus.60
There are several examples in New Comedy in which women share their deliberative
process with the audience. When deliberation preceeds a choice, Aristotle has a special name for
this – not just ἡ αἵρεσις, but ἡ προάιρεσις:
ἑκούσιον μὲν δὴ φαίνεται, τὸ δ’ ἑκούσιον οὐ πᾶν προαιρετόν. ἀλλ’ ἆρά γε τὸ
προβεβουλευμένον; ἡ γὰρ προαίρεσις μετὰ λόγου καὶ διανοίας. ὑποσημαίνειν δ’
ἔοικε καὶ τοὔνομα ὡς ὂν πρὸ ἑτέρων αἱρετόν.
(NE 1112a14-17)
[Moral choice] is clearly a voluntary act, but not every voluntary act is chosen. But is it
[defined as] that which has been deliberated before hand? For moral choice involves
60
Traill 2008. See especially chapters 2, “Misperception of Status,” and 3, “Misperception of
Character.”
26
reasoning and a process of thought. Indeed the very word itself seems to indicate as
much, since it is something chosen before other things.
Choice and deliberation are intricately tied, and in the comedies we will find several instances in
which women share their deliberation process, in monologue form or through dialogue with a
friend or another woman in the same predicament. The point of deliberation (βούλη), Aristotle
says, is to discover what actions are within one’s power to perform (NE 1112b31-34). Thus a
woman caught in an undesirable situation may deliberate with herself or a friend about her
options. Although both outcomes may be poor, she is able to make an informed decision and
perform a voluntary act as a true agent, or at the very least she can be a non-voluntary (and not
involuntary) agent (οὐχ ἑκών), if she has been pressed into a lose-lose situation by
circumstances beyond her control.
On the other hand, the choice is sometimes not between two actions, but between acting
and not acting (ἠ φυγή), and Aristotle holds the agent morally accountable for both:
ἐν οἷς γὰρ ἐφ’ ἡμῖν τὸ πράττειν, καὶ τὸ μὴ πράττειν, καὶ ἐν οἷς τὸ μή, καὶ τὸ ναί·
ὥστ’ εἰ τὸ πράττειν καλὸν ὂν ἐφ’ ἡμῖν ἐστί, καὶ τὸ μὴ πράττειν ἐφ’ ἡμῖν ἔσται
αἰσχρὸν ὄν, καὶ εἰ τὸ μὴ πράττειν καλὸν ὂν ἐφ’ ἡμῖν, καὶ τὸ πράττειν αἰσχρὸν ὂν
ἐφ’ ἡμῖν.
(NE 1113b7-11)
For in times when it is in our power to act, it is also in our power to not act, and in times
when we can say, “No,” we can also say, “Yes,” such that if it is in our power to act, and
that is a good thing, then it is also in our power to not act, and that is a bad thing, and if it
is in our power to not act, and that is a good thing, then it is also in our power to act, and
that is a bad thing.
In other words, if acting can be judged kalon, then not acting can be judged aischron, and vice
versa: since moral judgment can be passed upon action, the opposite judgment can be equally
passed upon inaction.
Aristotle feels that women are morally inferior because their capacity for deliberation (τὸ
βουλευτικόν) lacks authority (ἄκυρον, Politics 1260a12-13), and Foley demonstrates that his
belief about women’s diminished capacity for moral agency reflects wider fifth and fourth
27
century ideas.61 Foley evaluates the literary depiction of women making ethical decisions in
tragedy, showing that tragedians prefer to explore “ambiguous and often dangerous moral
frontiers” in women, whose “social incapacities are all characteristics men feared in
themselves.”62
I follow Foley in the belief that a woman’s social status – virgin, daughter, wife, mother,
prostitute, slave – affects the choices that she makes. In her words:
Each of the three roles [virgin, wife, mother] involves meeting a different set of social
expectations, and entails acting under the influence of different emotional and social
commitments. … In each case, the social position from which the woman acts conditions
her perspective on the situation that she faces and the significant choices open to her.63
The social expectations for courtesans and citizen women are so different that I have devoted
separate chapters them (Chapters 4 and 5, respectively). What Foley has done with tragedy I
have done on a larger scale with comedy. She focuses on examples in which women engage in
detailed deliberation, since these are the most interesting insights into ethical choice. Several
such ethical deliberations can be found in my dissertation, as in my analysis of Menander’s
Epitrepontes, Plautus’ Stichus and Cistellaria, and Terence’s Hecyra, but the extent to which the
playwrights dramatize decision making processes varies widely. In Menander’s Samia, for
example, we learn about the women’s activities mainly through hearsay, and so do not see them
in the process of making a choice. In these instances, my analysis proceeds from clues about a
woman’s motivations and the effect of her decision.
D. Conclusion
In the remaining chapters I hope to show that, by reading the comedies in a way other
than the playwrights intended, we can construct an informative picture of women’s subculture in
61
62
63
Foley 2001: 111-15.
Foley 2001: 116.
Foley 2001: 119.
28
this literary genre. The authors show that women have a separate and complex social system
within which they operate, one to which men have little or no access. Although the dominant,
masculine driven culture tries to restrict women’s interactions to a set of socially sanctioned
activities, women continually stretch these boundaries: they interact in the way that they want
and for the purposes that they desire, but they shield their unsanctioned exchanges from male
eyes or disguise them in culturally acceptable ways. Within their social circles, they create their
own rules, making decisions based on a variety of needs, not just those that fit with their
identities as a man’s wife or daughter, but also their identities of friend, sister, and mother. Their
desires and motivations are not just female desires, but human desires.
29
Chapter 2. Female Social Networks in Comedy
Since this dissertation explores women’s relationships with other women, I seek first to
understand the extent and makeup of female social circles in the comedies. Using evidence from
the four authors, I will discuss who is in a woman’s social circle (Part A) and what activities
women engage in together (Part B). I will then present examples of how relationships between
women can be deployed as a plot device (Part C).
Despite writing in different languages, genres, and time periods, the picture of women’s
social circles is similar across all four authors, with one notable exception in scale. The picture of
a normal network can be drawn in part from the unusual situations seen in comedy that must be
explained by the various playwrights. For example, the woman in Terence’s Adelphoe has no
social support, and the title character of Aristophanes’ Lysistrata is socially linked to every
woman in Greece. Aristophanes, the only Old Comic poet from whom we have substantial
material, writes fantastic plots in which women combine their small, local networks to create
unrealistically large social circles spanning the whole polis or multiple poleis. Meanwhile, the
genre of Greek New Comedy, and in fact much of Hellenistic literature, to which Menander’s
work belongs, focuses on the small scale. Since the Roman poets Plautus and Terence based their
plays on Greek New Comedies, including Menander’s, they show a similar interest in small scale
and more intimate topics. The networks of New Comedy therefore are usually restricted to one or
two households. Aristophanes calls attention many times to the unusually large size of the
Lysistrata’s network, just as Terence draws attention to the unusually small size of the women’s
world in his Adelphoe. The combined evidence of the four authors shows that the audience’s
expectation of a more normal female social circle is a small group that includes family members,
household slaves, in-laws, and neighbors. What constitutes a normal women’s network is
30
consistent across all four authors, but different elements, sometimes unusual or fantastic, become
the focus in different plays according to the needs of the genre, the author, or the plot. In the
discussion that follows, I examine the literary depiction of these social circles in more detail.
A. Defining a Woman’s Social Network
I first consider what opportunities women have to interact with other women in the
comedies, since access is a necessary precondition for creating friendships or otherwise drawing
social support. Access to other women is greatly affected by a woman’s social status, for which
reason my discussion necessarily treats women of different classes and ages separately. Indeed it
is a literary convention of Old and New Comedy to depict men and especially women by stocktypes. The female characters in comedy are variations on the theme of married citizen, old
widow, unmarried citizen girl, nurse, courtesan, slave, etc.64 The female characters are often
given lines and mannerisms to identify them as a member of one of these categories. In the
performance, there would have been visual signifiers such as costume, props, and masks as well.
Because of the literary conventions depicting women by social category, my analysis often
follows the same lines.
In several New Comedies, a women’s circle of friends is limited to the other women in
her household. Whereas Old Comedy often looks at the polis as a whole, New Comedy is
concerned with the microcosm of the oikos, and because of this the dramatic setting of New
Comedy is usually a single street with entrances to two houses. In Plautus’ Bacchides, one of
these houses belongs to the two sisters for whom the play is named, and they are the only female
characters in the story. Because of their courtesan status, comic convention allows them to
appear onstage as major characters. Their profession might also account for why they are not
64
Duckworth 1994: 236-71 discusses stock types in New Comedy, with particular attention to
female characters at 253-61.
31
shown to have other female friends in the play, since the plot focuses on their interaction with
their male customers. The sisters are an example of the most limited kind of women’s network in
that they only have each other. Thais, the courtesan of Terence’s Eunuch, is the head of a
household that includes several handmaids, a nurse, and her adopted sister, who is really an
Athenian citizen. While these women interact mostly with each other, Thais does accompany her
lovers to dinner parties where she encounters other hetairai. Thus the women of this house have
a mostly internal social group, but Thais has connections to a wider sphere. Other plays that
exhibit this same pattern – a courtesan-headed household where the women’s network is limited
to a single household – are Plautus’ Asinaria, Curculio, Mostellaria, and Persa.
There are also several New Comedies in which women of citizen status, for various
reasons, have little to no interaction with women outside of their household. Menander’s
Phasma, Plautus’ Amphitryon, Aulularia, Poenulus, Sikyonios, and Stichus, and Terence’s
Adelphoe and Andria fall into this category. Often the women’s lack of outside friends is not of
significance, but merely the result of the limited focus of the play. In some plays, however, the
women’s isolation is a major plot point upon which the story hinges. In such households, the
citizen women might become more dependant than usual upon slaves, for whom it is more
socially acceptable to appear in public and interact with non-related men. In Terence’s Adelphoe,
where an old widow lives with her unmarried daughter, the citizen women rely on their two
slaves to run errands outside of the house, fetch the midwife, and take messages to the girl’s
betrothed. One slave is male and one is female, but they enjoy equal freedom of movement
outside the home, in contrast to the citizen women. In the Andria of Terence, the marriageable
Glycerium is dependent upon her maid, Mysis, in much the same way. The play opens just after
the death of Glycerium’s sister, which Terence uses to highlight Glycerium’s newfound isolation
32
and her increasing dependence upon Mysis. Metics and other non-citizen women experience
freedoms similar to that of slaves. The hairdresser, Syra, of Plautus’ Truculentus comes into
contact with many women from various classes by virtue of her profession. One of her
customers, a citizen woman, turns to Syra for help in getting rid of a baby, which Syra then
passes off to a courtesan, who is looking to adopt (401-9). Syra’s wider sphere of contact allows
her to arrange the baby’s adoption, something that the citizen mother would not have been able
to do. When a playwright calls attention to the extremely limited number of contacts for a citizen
woman, as in the Adelphoe and Andria, it shows us that, in the literary world of New Comedy,
one would normally expect her to have connections outside the household, but not as much
freedom as a slave or metic.
Although women of the same household often form a close bond, this is not always the
case. For example, in Plautus’ Epidicus two women share a roof but do not speak with one
another. The master of the house, Periphanes, has been tricked into buying a music girl who he
thinks is his long-lost daughter, while his son has purchased a music girl who actually is the
long-lost daughter. Periphanes decides to keep the two girls apart on the grounds that a good
citizen girl should not have any interaction with a music girl (400-3). Although many of my
examples thus far show close bonds between citizen women and their maids, it should be noted
that their relationship is still that of mistress and slave: in Plautus’ Asinaria, the citizen wife
Artemona expresses regret that she tortured her maids on suspicion of theft, but they turned out
to be innocent (888-89). The fact that a mistress retains the right of corporal punishment over her
slaves, whether or not she exercises it, must affect the nature of their relationship.
In addition to forming friendships within the household, citizen women might form
relationships with the women of households connected by marriage. After the wedding has
33
merged the two families of Menander’s Dyskolos, Kallipides tells Gorgias, τὴν μητέρα | ἤδη σύ
δεῦρο τήν τ’ ἀδελφὴν μετάγαγε | πρὸς τὰς γυναῖκας τὰς παρ’ ἡμῖν (“Now bring your
mother and sister over here to our womenfolk,” 847-49). A wedding is grounds for an
introduction and the possibility of new friendship. In the Phormio of Terence, this familiarity is
exploited when the matriarch of one household is sent by her husband to talk with her new
daughter-in-law to try to resolve a problem (726), as discussed in the introduction. The Hecyra
of Terence shows us the potential difficulty of melding two families when the mother of the
groom repeatedly fails to reach out to her new daughter-in-law and vice versa. Instead, the new
bride takes refuge in her natal house with her own mother when she is in need of support. The
male characters suggest that tension between a new bride and her mother-in-law is normal (201),
but still cause for criticism (229-32). The marriage created a potential for new friendships
between the two houses, but that potential has not been fulfilled. These three examples show us
that a marriage links the women of two households, but does not determine what kind of
relationship they will come to have with each other.
Many plays show us the friendships of women who are not linked by a marriage or
shared roof, but do live near each other. The dramatic setting of a New Comedy is often two
neighboring houses, and the relationships between the members of the households play out in a
variety of ways. In Plautus’ Casina and Menander’s Georgos, we see citizen women who are
friends with their citizen neighbors. Likewise, courtesan women can be friends with their
courtesan neighbors, as in Plautus’ Cistellaria and Miles Gloriosus. Several plots involve a
household of citizen women befriending the concubine, as in Menander’s Samia and
Perikeiromene, and Terence’s Heautontimoroumenos. In the Samia, Epitrepontes, and Plautus’
Truculentus, these women of courtesan or concubine status work together with citizen women
34
for the common goal of protecting a baby. 65 In the Hecyra, the courtesan and citizen women
experience a tension that is eventually resolved by the efforts of the courtesan, who repairs the
relationship between the young girl and her husband. In the Epitrepontes, the courtesan
Habrotonon initiates a friendly relationship with the citizen girl in an effort to repair the
relationship between the girl and her husband, formerly Habrotonon’s lover. The Cistellaria
provides an example of the more normal animosity between the classes, rather than cooperation:
the courtesan Syra gives a drunken speech encouraging women of her class (ordo, 23) to stick
together in the way that well-born citizen women (summo genera gnatas, summatis matronas,
25) stick together. In addition to her tone of disdain when describing the matronae, she also
points to invidia between the classes (28).
Taken together, these examples show us that, although citizen women often form
friendships with neighboring concubines, the relationship between citizens and working hetairai
or meretrices ranges from cooperative to hostile. This is likely due to the difference in the role
that concubines and courtesans play in a household: whereas a concubine may have an exclusive
relationship with widowed or divorced man and live with him as mistress of the house, a
courtesan is often employed by a married man or an eligible bachelor whose family seeks to
maneuver him into a respectable citizen marriage. In other words, concubines have no female
citizen rivals, but courtesans usually do. The social relationships between women are also
affected by the social relationships between the men of those households. In some of these
examples, such as the Samia and Epitrepontes, the young man of one household eventually
marries the daughter of the other, which could potentially strengthen the ties between the
65
I use the English “courtesan” to refer to Greek ἑταἷραι and Latin meretrices. I use the English
“concubine” to refer to Greek παλλακαί and Latin paelices. Chrysis of the Samia is a παλλακή,
enjoying an exclusive relationship with her partner, which makes her situation quite different
from that of the ἑταἷραι in the Epitrepontes and the Truculentus, who are prostitutes for hire.
35
women. In other plays, the men of the two neighboring households are also friends, allowing for
the possibility of interplay between the men’s friendships and the women’s.
The Rudens of Plautus is an outlier because in that play extraordinary circumstances have
created a network of complete strangers. A citizen girl, Palaestra, was kidnapped and enslaved as
a youth and so met and befriended fellow slave Ampelisca. Both girls, upon being shipwrecked,
sought and received aid from a temple priestess (280-83). The play gives us an interesting insight
into the obligation women may feel to protect strangers in need, and the ease with which a bond
might be formed between two young girls in a desperate situation.
The previous examples looked at the lives of courtesans, slaves, and married citizen
women, but touched only briefly on the lives of unmarried citizen daughters. The opportunities
for a girl to interact with women outside of her own home were limited because she was closely
guarded by family members who were invested in her reputation. McGinn explains that “a
woman’s honor depends to an important degree on her sexual conduct or, more exactly, on the
community’s estimation of this.” Because of its bearing on family honor, “female chastity tends
to serve as a prime indicator of social worth.”66 This is illustrated in Menander’s Dyskolos when
Daos explains that every κόρη needs φυλακή when in public:
ἀλλά σ᾽, ὦ Κνήμων, κακὸν
κακῶς ἃπαντες ἀπολέσειαν οἱ θεοί.
ἄκακον κόρην μόνην ἀφεὶς ἐν ἐρημίαι
ἐᾷς, φυλακὴν οὐδεμίαν ὡς προσῆκον ἦν
ποιούμενος.67
(220-24)
But you, Knemon, evil thing, may all the gods destroy you wretchedly! You let an
innocent korē go out alone, in solitude, without giving her a guardian as is fitting.
Similarly, Periphanes of the Epidicus states that his newly found daughter must be locked up: in
aediculam instanc sorsum concludi volo (“I want her shut up in that little room apart [from the
66
67
McGinn 1998: 10.
Text of Menander is from Sandbach 1972 unless otherwise noted.
36
music girl]” 402). The protection of the kore may be in the best interest of her kyrios, the citizen
male (usually her father, nearest male relative, or husband) who is responsible for entering legal
contracts, such as marriage, on her behalf.68 A woman’s kyrios controls her sexual partners, and
it is a crime against the kyrios to have sexual relations with a woman without the consent of her
kyrios.69
For the most part, only married women, widows, and non-citizen women appear onstage
in extant comedy: because of dramatic realism, unmarried citizen girls remained offstage
because they could not appear in public, where most of the dramatic action takes place.70
Exceptions include Menander’s Dyskolos, where the family lives out in the country, for which
reason there is less need to keep her closely guarded. The other exception is the character of
foundling, whose citizen status is unknown or disregarded, because of which she is treated as a
slave. The citizen girl of the Eunuch is treated differently by those who think she is a slave and
by those who think she is a citizen: she appears on stage when escorted to Thais’ house by
Gnatho, who thinks she is a slave (273-74). Once in Thais’ care, she is treated as a citizen virgo
and kept indoors by Thais, who instructs her maids to watch over the girl (505). The kore of
Menander’s Samia is never seen in the flesh, but her actions are reported to the audience by the
other characters. Likewise, the Adelphoe of Terence shows us only the matrona and her two
slaves, even though the virgo and her plight is the crux of the plot.
Menander’s Phasma, however, shows an interesting twist to the usual protection of the
kore:
68
On the role of the kyrios, see Harrison 1998: 108-15 and Omitowoju 2002: 117-122.
Omitowoju 2002: 119-122. Examples of his consent include when a kyrios has given his
charge to a man in marriage, or when a kyrios prostitutes his charge. A rape of an unmarried girl
is usually an infraction against her father, and adultery with a married woman is usually an
infraction against her husband.
70
Hunter 1985: 90.
69
37
τρεφομ]ένη καὶ φυλαττομένη κόρη
ἁνὴρ ὅταν ἔλθηι] δεῦρο· τὸν δ’ ἄλλον χρόνον,
ὅτ’ ὄικετ’ εἰς ἀγρὸ]ν φυλακῆς τ’ ἐλάττονος
χρεία ᾽στιν, ἣν εἴλη]χεν οἰκίαν τότε
εἴωθε καταλιπεῖν]71
(14-18)
… the girl, [rais]ed [in secret?] and guarded, [when the man of the house is] here; but at
other times, [when he goes out to the field] and [there is] less [need for] the safeguards,
then [she is accustomed to leave behind] her allotted quarters.
If there is any doubt as to the content of lines 17 and 18 because of the lacunae, the following
lines discuss how the girl makes appearances as a phasma. This, coupled with the extant parts of
lines 14 through 18, makes the sense clear: she is guarded when [someone] is here, more free to
move about when he[?] is not. As to the identity of that someone, I accept Kock’s supplement of
ἁνὴρ in line 15, referring to the man of the house, presumably the girl’s father.72 This shows us
that the protection of a kore is of the highest priority to her father (or kyrios); when he is away,
the rest of the family may have different priorities. Although the girl and her mother may worry
about rape or seduction as much as her father (and rape is a very real danger for an unmarried
girl in her prime), perhaps they consider the girl’s need for social contact important enough to
lessen her protections. The protection of the kore becomes a central plot point in New Comedy
because the playwright must come up with plausible excuses for a young man to see and fall in
love with her. Indeed, it might be that the laxness with which the mother guards her daughter in
the Phasma is precisely in service of this comic need and we should read no more into it.
Because of this we know that the frequent liaisons of New Comedy are not a reflection of social
reality: Menander has already established that the seclusion of the kore is the norm, and now the
poets must find believable ways to stage an abnormal situation.
71
72
Text is from Sandbach 1972, with supplements by various scholars.
Edmonds 1957: 750.
38
The picture offered by Old Comedy is quite different from that of New Comedy. Few
Aristophanic plays center on one household, and even then that household is a metaphor for
problems within the whole polis, as with the Knights and Wasps. The plays that show us a
network of women, the Lysistrata, Thesmophoriazusae, and Ecclesiazusae, do not limit their
action to one or two households. In these plays there is a very large circle of women interacting
and collaborating with women from the entire polis and even neighboring poleis. The network
can be so large that it is unrealistic: Praxagora of the Ecclesiazusae seems to know every woman
in Athens, and the title character of Lysistrata is friends with Lampito all the way from Sparta.
Where Aristophanes offers the extreme, and fantastic, example of an Athenian woman whose
friends span all Attica and the Peloponnese, New Comedy offers the other extreme, equally
fantastic, where a woman’s network is limited to one household. The Adelphoe and the
Lysistrata demonstrate the geographical range of a woman’s possible network, but each is an
exaggeration determined by comic convention. The audience’s expectation for a “normal”
female network falls somewhere in between.
Just as the married women of Aristophanes were shown to have an unusually large circle
of friends, they are also freer to move about outside the home than the women of New Comedy.
The women of Ecclesiazusae roam the entire city, but the family of the Adelphoe is confined to
their house. The plots of Aristophanes necessitate this freedom, and the characters call attention
to the conflict between the women’s freedom and societal norms. The women of the
Ecclesiazusae must make excuses that allow them to leave their husbands and homes and enter
the streets (526-29). The koryphaia of the Thesmophoriazusae explains that the women’s
freedom creates tension in the home: when women go out, their husbands get angry (μανίας
μαίνεσθ’, 793), and when women stay over night at a friend’s house, their husbands get anxious
39
(796). Her speech (785-845, but particularly 785-99) suggests that married women do leave the
house freely, but this causes men great consternation. The introductory monologue of the Samia
shows that the concubine Chrysis went next door often, but the married women came over to her
house less frequently (35-38). As Gomme and Sandbach put it, “gadding about would less befit a
married woman with a grown daughter.”73 Perhaps this standard in New Comedy is also the
understood standard for Old Comedy, but exceptions are made to fit the Aristophanic plots.
B. Occasions for Women to Congregate
Up to this point I have been discussing the make-up of female social circles. Next I
address the activities of which women partake together in the world of comedy.74 In the
comedies, acceptable reasons for women to gather in public en masse are limited to religious
celebrations: the Thesmophoria in the Thesmophoriazusae (also Eccl. 223a, 443; Epit. 749);
revels for Bacchus, Pan, and Genetyllis (Lys. 1-2); a gathering at the Parthenon (Lys. 176); a
rooftop revel for Adonis (Lys. 389); the Brauronia (Lys. 645, Phasm. 97, 104); basket-carriers in
the Panathenaea (Lys. 646-47); the Skira (Eccl. 18, 59; Epit. 750); the Dionysia (Cist. 89, 156);
the Tauropoleia (Epit. 451, 863, 1119); the Aphrodisia (Poen. 1133); and a parade and feast for
Artemis at Ephesus (Kith. 94-95). Women can also gather in public for funeral rites (Lys. 61213). The women of the Ecclesiazusae must all pretend to be men in order to enter the assembly,
and the women of the Lysistrata must frame their gathering as a religious one by making their
headquarters at the goddess’ temple on the acropolis (241). Often a religious gathering is simply
a background plot detail, as in the Menander examples, and gets only a casual mention.
73
Gomme and Sandbach 1973: ad 35-38.
For a wider social-historical survey, including evidence of many literary genres, see Blok
2001: 110-15.
74
40
Although we know that all-female festivals really did take place in ancient Athens and
Rome,75 the particular religious gatherings mentioned in comedy are often chosen deliberately to
portray a stereotype of women. As Winkler says, “[t]he texts, meager as they are, which speak of
women’s rituals and gatherings ... must be used with the customary caution, since their attitude
to women’s independent operations is likely to be colored by anxiety, suspicion, or contempt.”76
Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae shows us one man’s wildly imaginative rendition of events at
the famous festival for Demeter. In his version, the main events are drinking (630), drinking
(631), and complaining about men (378). This representation can hardly be taken as reality;
rather, it uses the stereotype of women as lushes and gossips to belittle females.77 Other religious
festivals are depicted as opportunities for women to practice their hypersexuality, another
derogatory stereotype: in the opening lines of the Lysistrata, the title character jokes that the
women would never be late if she had called them to a Bacchanalia, to Pan’s shrine, or to a
gathering for Genetyllis (1-2). While women probably do gather for religious ceremonies in
honor of these gods, Aristophanes chose these specific examples because of their association
with sexuality and procreation. Likewise, when Moschion says that Chrysis hosted an Adonia at
her house (Samia 39), Menander has specifically chosen a festival with erotic connotations as
fitting for a former hetaira to host.78
75
See Dillon 2002: 109-138 for a summary and discussion of the public, all-female festivals in
Classical and Hellenistic Athens, including the Stenia, the Thesmophoria, the Haloa, and the
Skira. Schultz 1999: 21 evaluates women’s religious roles in Republican Rome, demonstrating
that their activities were not limited to all-female cults or fertility rituals, nor does this even
comprise the majority of women’s public religious activity.
76
Winkler 1990: 188.
77
See Oeri 1948: 13-18 on the comic motif of women as lushes; Austin and Olson 2004: ad 630
for a catalogue of passages depicting this motif; and McClure 1999: 56-62 on the presentation of
women as gossips in literature.
78
Gomme and Sandbach 1973: ad 39.
41
Reading past the stereotypes, these accounts suggest that it was socially acceptable for
Greek (and Roman) women to gather to celebrate mystery rites for goddesses. In New Comedy,
women gather at religious festivals because it is a necessary plot device: because the festivals are
public, and it is one occasion when unmarried girls are allowed out of the house, these events
provide the rare opportunity for the young man to see, fall in lust with, and rape the unmarried
citizen girl. For example, Charisios of the Epitrepontes gains access to Pamphile while she is on
her way to the festival of the Tauropolia (451).79 Pamphilus, of Terence’s Hecyra, raped
Philumena one night in via (828); we do not know what this young, unmarried, citizen girl was
doing in the streets at night, but she was probably with a group of other women – she certainly
would not have been allowed out alone – and given that they were out at night, they were mostly
likely participating in a religious festival.
The comedies also show us that women hosted smaller religious festivals in their homes,
inviting perhaps dozens of neighbors and friends, but not the entire polis. As noted above,
Chrysis, the concubine of the Samia, hosts a festival for Adonis in her home (39), and the
koryphaia of Lysistrata informs a meddling man that she hosted a party at her house for
neighborhood women in honor of Hecate (700). Such gatherings show us that there were
acceptable occasions for women to gather at a private dwelling for an all-female party, attended
by many women from around the neighborhood. Although religious in purpose, such parties
certainly would have certainly served as social gatherings, too, and not just as solemn occasions.
Deubner argues that Athenian women had forgotten the original, erotic connotation of the
79
Furley 2009: ad 542 traces the trope of the παννύχις rape from Euripides through Middle
Comedy and Menander. Omitowoju 2002: 175-76 argues that, although the topos is colored by
literary needs, it may nonetheless reflect contemporary male attitudes towards rape: while they
recognize that there are strict legal penalties for the crime, in reality, as in comedy, men may
treat rape lightly because they knew they would escape punishment.
42
Adonia festival, and the gathering at Chrysis’ house was simply an excuse for the women to
throw a party.80
There were more opportunities for widows, older women, and slaves to interact in public
on a smaller scale, by working in the market or running errands. An old woman in the Lysistrata
sells wares at the market (456-61); Aristophanes refers to Euripides’ mother as a vegetable-seller
(Thesm. 387, 456; Ach. 478); and a widow introduces herself as a garland-seller (Thesm. 448).81
Their comparative freedom is due in part to the role of the kyrios, the male relative who is legally
in charge of a citizen woman: a kyrios might guard a young girl closely to prevent her from
having the opportunity to conceive illegitimate children or acquire a negative reputation, but he
has little need to limit the public appearances of a widow or old woman past childbearing age.82
There is no need to place such restrictions on the movements of slaves, and they are often sent on
errands during which they might interact with men and women of citizen or non-citizen class:
Canthara goes to fetch a midwife (Ad. 353-54); Syra is sent to see her mistress’ father (Merc.
803-4); Ampelisca is sent to the house of an unrelated man to fetch water (Rud. 430); and
Glykera sends her servant Doris out on errands (Pk. 154). The social license to sell things at the
market or run errands gives widows, old women, and slaves the opportunity to interact with
80
Deubner 1969: 220-21.
See Lacey 1980: 170-72 for a brief discussion of the circumstances in which citizen women
worked outside the household. A major contributing factor was poverty, and although citizen
women were limited to making contracts of no more than the value of one medimnos, work in the
marketplace could still provide enough money to feed her family. Lacey notes that the economic
activities for foreign women and slaves were not as limited and could include work as a
courtesan or music girl.
82
See Lacey 1980: 159 on the close guardianship of unwed girls and young wives, and 175 on
the comparative freedom of older women. Lysias 1.6 offers an example of the virtual
imprisonment of newly married women: Euphiletus says that when he first married, he kept a
close watch on his wife, as much as was possible, and restricted her freedom (“it seemed good to
me … that she not have license to do whatever she wished”). He eased his restrictions after their
first child was born because he decided its existence made her more trustworthy.
81
43
women outside of the household, although the comedies do not show us any friendships formed
on the basis of these opportunities.83 Susan Lape has convincingly demonstrated that New
Comedy is concerned with citizen marriage and its reproductive capacity, and therefore it should
come as no surprise that the actions and relationships of the older women and slaves are not
explored in the plays.84
There are a number of occasions for women to get together in private homes in pairs or
small groups, and these kinds of interactions are often in the background of the plays. The
occasion for such gatherings can be daily chores, special activities like weddings and
childbearing, or the meeting can be purely social. There is a social element to even chore dates,
since collaboration is social by nature. We see women getting together for their mundane chores,
like bathing (Bacc. 105; Poen. 218-31; Most. 157-59), and weaving (Cas. 168-70; Sam. 234).
Bathing can also be a service provided for a girl by her handmaids (Eun. 595, Poen. 222-24).
Myrrhina of the Casina even gives us her reason for turning work into a social occasion: she
informs her maids that if she works at home (alone), she falls asleep at the loom, and so prefers
to go next door to weave with a friend (168-70). The women of the bride’s and groom’s
households work together to prepare for weddings (Sam. 220-22) and are expected to get
together to plan weddings (Cas. 546-49). The wedding activities that women partake of together
include celebrating the upcoming nuptials with an all-night party (Dysk. 857, 950-53), bathing
83
A parallel example can be found in Lysias 1.8, in which maids and old hags serve as the point
of contact between citizen woman and the outside world. When Eratosthenes has taken a liking
to Euphiletus’ wife, he watches out for the woman’s servant girl at the market in order to pass a
message through her. Later, an old hag comes to visit Euphiletus to deliver a warning from
another citizen woman, one who has also had an affair with Eratosthenes. In both examples, the
citizen women rely on the servants’ freedom – freedom to come and go as they please and
interact with citizen men – to circumvent a system that is designed to keep unrelated citizen men
and women from communicating.
84
Lape 2004: 9-10.
44
the bride (Sam. 124) or groom (Sam. 729-32) in a ritual bath, watching wedding games (Cas.
855-56), and eating at the feast (Cas. 780-81). There does not need to be a wedding for women
to eat together: a husband in the Ecclesiazusae suggests that his missing wife must have been
invited to a friend’s house for breakfast (348-49).
A married woman, perhaps only one who has given birth or attended to a birth, can be
called upon at any time to be a midwife (Lys. 746, Eccl. 528-29, Cist. 141, Mil. 697, Truc. 13031, And. 299). A woman serving as a midwife could expect compensation, in the form of gifts or
money: a husband in the Miles Gloriosus says that his wife sent a little something (parum, 697)
to the midwife, and the context shows that this parum is a munus (691 and 695). A passage from
the Ecclesiazusae implies that the midwife receives greater compensation if the baby is a boy
(549).85 It appears, then, that this social interaction both brought monetary reward and
strengthened one’s ties to the community.
A woman might also be called upon to be a wet nurse, a role that can bring long-term ties
to a family. The wet nurse can work along side the birth mother, as in the Thesmophoriazusae
(609) and Truculentus (448). Two passages indicate that a wet nurse receives compensation for
her services: a matrona tells her husband that she needs to send a gift to the nutrix (Mil. 698),
and, similarly, the courtesan Phronesium tells her lover that she needs money to fulfill their
child’s needs, including the need for a nurse (Truc. 903). The courtesan Chrysis becomes wet
nurse to her citizen friend’s baby (Sam. 85) not for pay, but as part of their ongoing friendship. In
some instances, the nurse maintains a relationship with the family even as the children grow up
(Aul. 807, 815). The nurse of the Poenulus is kidnapped along with the children, probably for
practical reasons, and stays with the girls throughout their childhood (83-90). The nurse then
85
According to the interpretations of Müller 1988 and Sommerstein 1998a: ad loc.
45
plays a critical role in the recognition of legitimate daughter (1122-31) because the nurse is old
enough to remember the girls’ father, and the father can recognize the grown nurse better than
his children, whom he has not seen since they were babies. A mother might give her child up to a
nurse to rear (Phasm. 11-13), and so the nurse remains part of the child’s life but does not
maintain a relationship with the mother. When trying to ascertain the identity of his sister,
Planesium, the soldier Therapontigonus asks her first for the name of her mother, then the name
of her nurse (Curc. 642-43), showing us that both the mother and nurse can play a crucial role in
a child’s life and identity. The slave Lampadio shows how one can easily develop a level of
attachment to the nurse that is more appropriate for the mother when he says, nam illaec tibi
nutrix est, ne matrem censeas (“for she is only your nurse; don’t think she is your mother,” Cist.
558). From the prologue of the Poenulus we may conclude that it was common practice to have a
nutrix for one’s children because the speaker tells the audience:
nutrices pueros infantis minutulos
domi ut procurent neu quae spectatum adferat,
ne et ipsae sitiant et pueri pereant fame
neve esurientes hic quasi haedi obvagiant.86
(28-31)
Let the nurses care for the little babes at home and not a one of them come to this play,
because the nurses might go dry and the children die of starvation, or go bleating about
like hungry goats.
The speaker is trying to cull the unwanted patrons from the audience by telling scorta (17), servi
(23), and nutrices to stay home, and matronae to be quiet (32); thus we may conclude that
nutrices are a common occurrence. These passages show us that playing the role of the nutrix is
one way in which a woman can establish ties to other women, both the mother and, when they
grow up, the daughters.
86
All text of Plautus is from Lindsay 1903 unless otherwise noted.
46
A passage from the Ecclesiazusae shows us one particular benefit of having a network of
friends. In this play, women can get together to borrow clothing, jewelry, money, or drinking
cups (446-50). This is oiko-nomics in its truest form: Praxagora reports (indirectly) that women
have their own system of managing available resources through trade and barter, all confined
within the small-scale network of a few households. It is a self-regulating system, according to
Praxagora: the women do not cheat each other on these transactions as men do (450). This
passage is, of course, part of a comic plot, and Aristophanes purposefully models the women’s
economic activities after men’s, but for the sake of his plot, he shows the female version to be
superior. Nonetheless, the depiction of this female economy is accepted as plausible by the
characters in the play and the audience.
There are many examples from the comedies that show us the informal side of women’s
friendships, where women get together simply to chat or enjoy each other’s company. The
women of the Samia like each other’s company (35-37), as do neighbors Myrrhina and
Cleostrata of the Casina, so much that they routinely have sleepovers (482). Each of the two
shipwrecked girls of the Rudens tells the audience that the other is a source of comfort and
companionship: before finding each other after the wreck, the first says, quae mihi si foret salva
saltem, labor | lenior esset hic mi eius opera (“If only she were safe, she would help make my
troubles more bearable!” 202-3), and the other, once they have been reunited, says, ut me
omnium iam laborum levas (“How you alleviate all of my troubles!” 247). Women show a range
of emotions with their friends: the women of the Samia cry together (426), the women of the
Casina laugh together (857-58), and the women of the Asinaria (504-44) and Poenulus (210-78)
argue with one another. Women discuss love (Cist. 65-75, Pers. 177-81), beauty (Most. 250-90),
and an upcoming visit to a temple (Poen. 1174-86); they confide in each other and commiserate
47
(Georg. 22-34, Cas. 165-216; Cist. 1-13, Stich. 1-57); they conspire to achieve a common goal
(Bacch. 35-40, Cist. 757-73, Heaut. 381-400); and they resolve conflict and dispel
misunderstandings through discussion (Lys. 119-237, Eccl. 93-279, Epit. 858-77, Hec. 750-60,
Phorm. 726).
These examples show us the various opportunities for women to get together and
socialize, whether there is an organized activity or not. They show us an all-female economy
where women barter goods and services, sometimes with money changing hands, but mostly not.
This is the network that is available to women for emotional and social support. It cannot provide
long-term financial support, but it could provide a few essential services in a time of crisis as
well as enduring emotional support. Although many of the specific activities and interactions are
drawn from examples from a few plays, the overall picture of women’s relationships is
consistent across all four authors. From this we may conclude that, although there were no
examples specifically of women bathing in Aristophanes (to take but one activity as an example),
this is nonetheless an acceptable behavior for Aristophanic women, too. The combined evidence
represents a set of literary expectations for women’s interactions in the comic world. Certain
kinds of behaviors and friendships would be expected or accepted as normal by the audience,
while other behaviors must be highlighted and explained by the playwright for their unusualness.
With this literary picture in mind, I turn to part three of this chapter, in which we look in more
detail at how women’s friendships operate in comedy.
C. The Role of the Social Network
In the following examples I will discuss how we are introduced to the women’s network
and what importance it holds for the plot of four select plays. The examples are designed to show
that the relationship between women can sometimes become a character itself, in that it serves a
48
purpose in the plot and receives an introduction just like any other character. In each play, the
author draws attention to the value of the social connections between women.
i. Aristophanes’ Lysistrata
In the opening scene of the Lysistrata we see the group of women coming together one at
a time. Since this body of women is the means by which the anti-war scheme will be carried out,
it is important that the play begin by showing us who is in it and how it operates. In her first line,
Lysistrata indicates that this is an established group by referring to past activities at which they
have gathered (1-3). Those with the shortest distance to travel arrive first, and those with the
longest arrive last, starting with Lysistrata’s neighbor, Kalonike (5-6), who designated as a
compatriot with the term ἐμὴ κωμῆτις. Soon Myrrhine appears with a group of women from a
nearby Attic deme (66-67). Finally, representatives arrive from the major cities on both sides of
the Peloponnesian war: representing the Athenian allies, a woman from Boeotia (86); Lampito
from Sparta itself (77); and a woman from the major Spartan ally of Corinth (91). The larger
group, which Lysistrata is organizing for political reasons, is created by combining smaller social
networks: Kalonike is Lysistrata’s κωμῆτις and apparently a personal friend (a judgment which I
make based on the familiar tone of their conversation); Myrrhine and Lampito each arrive with
their own set of companions; and Lampito introduces Lysistrata to the spokeswomen from
Corinth and Thebes. By introducing their friends to each other, the women use their existing
social connections to forge a larger political body that spans a very large geographical area
indeed.
Once the group is complete, Lysistrata explains her plan to end the war through the
combined effort of the women. The network is essential both in disseminating information about
49
her plan and in its implementation. The group takes on a more formal unity when they all swear
an oath to abstain from sex with their husbands (209-37). Since Lysistrata’s main weapon is to
deprive the men of sex, it requires the cooperation of all women, united on the basis of gender, to
carry it out. For this weapon to be most effective, it must be deployed against both sides, which
is why it is so important that Lysistrata has friends from all poleis. The scale of her connections,
however, is unrealistic, and constitutes the great fantasy of the play. Aristophanes must show us
how Lysistrata builds her unusual network in the opening scene because it is the means by which
the plot is carried out, but as it is not immediately believable, it must be explained. He addresses
this problem by modeling the fantastic (large-scale) network on the normal (local) network of an
ordinary woman.
ii. Menander’s Samia
In Menander’s Samia the closeness of the women’s network facilitates the plot: it is the
means by which the interpersonal problems between the male characters are created and,
ultimately, solved. Menander defines the members of this particular women’s group, what
purpose it serves for the women, and how the men view the friendship and benefit from it.
In Moschion’s introductory monologue, which gives us the crucial background
information needed to understand the action of the play, the description of the women’s network
signals that it will be central to the action. His speech is fragmentary, missing nine to eleven
lines in the beginning, twenty-three lines in the middle, and the beginning of several other lines
besides. After the central lacuna, the surviving text picks up in the middle of our introduction to
the women. Moschion tells us the key characters in this network include a κόρη, her mother, and
his father’s Samian woman (lines 35-36). Their extended circle consists of “some other women”
(τινων | [ἄλλω]ν γυναικῶν, 40-41). The purpose of introducing these women is twofold: in the
50
latter part of his introduction, Moschion tells us about the women’s gathering at the festival of
Adonia in order to explain how he got into trouble by raping the κόρη, Plangon. The first part of
his story, however, focuses purely on how close the women are to each other. He says,
φ]ιλανθρώπως δὲ πρὸς τὴν πατρὸς
Σαμί]α̣ν̣ διέκειθ’ ἡ τῆς κόρης μήτηρ, τά τε
πλεῖστ’ ἦν παρ’ αὐταῖς ἥδε, καὶ πάλιν ποτὲ
αὗται παρ’ ἡμῖν.
(35-38)
The mother of the girl was friendly towards my father’s Samian girl; she would often be
at their house, and in turn they would sometimes come to ours.
Although the network is part of the story of the rape, the women’s friendship will also be central
to the story later on, when the women work together to protect each other and the baby that has
been born out of wedlock to Plangon and Moschion. For this reason, Menander has included in
his introduction an indication of their close ties.
The social bond between the women creates an emotional support group, which the
characters rely upon in turns as the action unfolds. In order to protect the young lovers, Chrysis
pretends that she is the mother of a baby, who in reality is the son of Moschion and Plangon.
When Demeas sees the baby, he assumes that Chrysis has taken up a child that he fathered, and
in doing so has officially recognized the child in the way that only he has the right to do.87 When
he throws her out of their house, she goes to the neighbors’ house, crying. Nikeratos, head of this
household and father of Plangon, receives her at the door and immediately sends her off to the
womenfolk with the express purpose of cheering her up: πρὸς τὴν γυναῖκα δεῦρ’ ἀκολούθει
87
MacDowell 1978: 91 and Harrison 1998: 70-71 explain that when an Athenian child was
born, it was customary for the father to formally acknowledge or reject it. Such
acknowledgement was necessary for the child to become part of his father’s oikos and deme,
which entitles the baby to certain resources in his father’s house and privileges in the polis. Since
Demeas already has a legitimate son, Moschion, recognition of Chrysis’ baby would diminish
Moschion’s share of the estate and threaten his livelihood (Lacey 1980: 164-65). Furthermore,
according to the Periclean Marriage Law of 451/0 (re-enacted in 403/2), a child of a foreign
woman and a citizen man was not a citizen. It is possible that a father who enrolled an
illegitimate child in a deme would suffer legal consequences (Harrison 1998: 68-70).
51
τὴν ἐμήν. | θάρρει· (“Come with me to see my wife. Cheer up!” 418-419). He feels that when a
woman is in distress, her suffering can best be alleviated by other women. Whatever her
emotional state, when a man finds a female neighbor at his door, the proper response is to send
her in to see his wife. He recognizes that it is inappropriate for a man to prolong an interaction
with her, and it is appropriate for a woman to seek comfort from her female friends.
The women of the Samia have a bond such that when one member of the group suffers,
all of the women in the group suffer. After learning of Chrysis’ predicament, Nikeratos reports,
δάκρυα γίνεθ’, αἱ γυναῖκες τεθορύβηνται (“There were tears [all around],88 the women were
in uproar,” 426). Nikeratos recognizes that the emotional trauma suffered by Chrysis creates an
emotional trauma for all the women in her circle of friends, and he intercedes with Demeas on
their behalf. He says, Δημέας | σκατοφαγεῖ. νὴ τὸν Ποσειδῶ καὶ θεούς, οἰμώξεται | σκαιός
ὤν (“That shit-eating Demeas! By Poseidon and the gods, he’ll be sorry, the unlucky man,” 42628). While Nikeratos is surprised when Chrysis shows up at his door in distress, he only becomes
angry when all of the women get upset. His indignation on their behalf shows that he recognizes
the seriousness of Demeas’ crime, which now has the potential to destabilize the whole group of
women.89 Nikeratos’ wife and daughter are upset for their friend, and perhaps for themselves: if
Chrysis no longer has a relationship with Demeas, she will likely have to leave the neighborhood
and her friends behind.
Nikeratos sees Demeas as the original cause of this destabilization, and understands that
in order to put the friendship back together, he must restore Chrysis to her place as pallake of
88
Although the women (plural) are not the stated subject until the second clause, they should be
taken also as the producers of the tears in the first clause, rather than just Chrysis (the subject
from the previous sentence).
89
Gomme and Sandbach 1973 ad 421-8 say that Nikeratos is upset not over Demeas’ treatment
of Chrysis, but because his actions have caused the women to cease their wedding preparations,
which Nikeratos takes as a bad omen. I believe the passage allows for both interpretations.
52
Demeas. Although Chrysis is a mere pallake, and not a citizen wife, she is anything but a
temporary and unimportant member of Demeas’ household. Rather, Menander shows us that she
is quasi-permanent member of the family and an integral part of the inter-oikos dynamic. Traill
says of Chrysis, “she has a sincere commitment to the household as a whole and not just to
Demeas.”90 Chrysis is also central to the relationships of the play: she intercedes to help her
friends, which jeopardizes her relationship with Demeas, which creates turmoil among the
women, which makes Nikeratos angry with Demeas. Nikeratos decides to confront his friend,
seeking an explanation for his actions and hoping to repair all of the injured relationships. The
interaction between these women plays a major role in the plot because it creates the
complications and misunderstandings that stand in the way of an easy resolution, but ultimately
makes the happy ending possible by protecting the baby and the marriage of the young couple.
iii. Plautus’ Casina
Nikeratos, when threatened with a destabilizing women’s network, decided to take action
in order to put things right. In the Casina we have the opposite situation: when presented with a
stable women’s network, the men of two households use and abuse that stability to have secret
liaisons with courtesans. The strength of the women’s friendship deserves comment in and of
itself, as their interactions give us the opportunity to see women discussing the emotional and
social support they receive from other women.
In the Casina there are two households, of which Cleostrata is the matriarch of one, and
Myrrhina is the matriarch of the other. Cleostrata’s husband and son are both trying to marry a
pretty slave girl, Casina, to their respective male attendants so as to increase their access to her.
Cleostrata is not unaware of her husband’s plans, so she becomes an ally to her son in the hopes
90
Traill 2008: 156.
53
that this will keep Casina away from her husband. She seeks out her neighbor and friend for
comfort:
{CLEOSTRATA} Myrrhina, salve.
171
{MYRRHINA} salve mecastor. sed quid tu es tristis, amabo?
172-3
{CL} ita solent omnes quae sunt male nuptae:
174-5
domi et foris aegre quod siet sati’ semper est.
176-7
nam ego ibam ad te. MY. et pol ego isto ad te.
sed quid est quod tuo nunc animo aegrest?
nam quod tibi est aegre, idem mist dividiae.
180-81
{CL} credo, ecastor, nam vicinam neminem amo merito magi’ quam te
nec qua in plura sunt
183
mihi quae ego velim.
183a
{CLEOSTRATA} Greetings, Myrrhina.
{MYRRHINA} Greetings, by Castor. Why are you so sad, dear?
{CL} All the usual reasons which plague married women: at home and away there are
always enough things to go poorly. I was just coming to your house.
{MY} Gee, I was just coming to yours. But what is it? What is not well in your heart?
For whatever is not well with you, is likewise a concern for me.
{CL} I believe you, by Castor. For there is no neighbor I love more than you, and rightly
so, nor anyone in whom there are more good qualities which I would desire for myself.
This scene shows us that Cleostrata and Myrrhina are neighbors who have an established
friendship, who count on each other for support, and when one suffers, the other suffers on her
behalf, much like the women in Menander’s Samia, discussed above, except in this case both
women are matronae and so they support each other as social equals. This scene establishes the
closeness of these two women, the emotional dependence that they express openly for each
other, and their solidarity. The Casina conversation is similar to one that takes place in
Menander’s Georgos between Myrrhine and her neighbor Philinna. Myrrhine says, ἀ]λλ’ ὡς
πρὸς εὔνουν, ὦ Φίλιννα, τοὺς λόγους | π]οουμένη σε πάντα τἀμαυτῆς λέγω· | ἐν τ]οῖσδ’
ἐγὼ νῦν εἰμι (“Because you are friendly, Philinna, I’m telling you these things and all of my
troubles. I’m now in this predicament,” 22-24). Philinna responds with a show of solidarity by
promising to give the problematic young man a good talking to (24-27).
54
The close friendship of Cleostrata and Myrrhina is exploited by their husbands when
Lysidamus, Cleostrata’s husband, seeks some private time with the slave girl, Casina. Lysidamus
casually suggests to Cleostrata that she invite Myrrhina over for a visit, thereby freeing up
Myrrhina’s house for his secret liaison. No one thinks twice about this suggestion, until
Cleostrata first uncovers the ulterior motive:
hoc erat ecastor quod me vir tanto opere orabat meus,
ut properarem arcessere hanc <huc> ad me uicinam meam,
liberae aedes ut sibi essent Casinam quo deducerent.
nunc adeo nequaquam arcessam, <ne illis> ignavissumis
liberi loci potestas sit, vetulis vervecibus.
sed eccum egreditur, senati columen, praesidium popli,
meu’ vicinus, meo viro qui liberum praehibet locum.
non ecastor vilis emptu’st modius qui venit salis.
(531-38)
By Castor, this was why my husband was entreating me so energetically to hurry up and
call my neighbor over to our house, so that that house would be free and he could bring in
Casina. Now there is no way I will invite her, lest there be the opportunity of a free house
for those exceedingly lazy, shriveled, old muttonheads. But look, here it comes, the pillar
of the senate, the bulwark of the people, my neighbor, who provides a free place for my
husband. By Castor, the man who approaches is not worth much, no more than a grain of
salt.
Cleostrata understands the men’s plan and the mechanism by which they hope to carry it out. At
first she thought nothing of the insistence that she invite over her neighbor, and probably would
have done so, had she not grown suspicious. Instead, Cleostrata must explain to the perplexed
Alcesimus why, contrary to the reasonable expectation created by her husband, she does not
intend to invite Myrrhina to her house today:
{CLEOSTRATA} ubi tua uxor? {ALCESIMUS} intus illa te, si se arcessas, manet;
nam tuo’ vir me oravit, ut eam isto ad te adiutum mitterem.
vin vocem? {CL} sine eam: te nolo, si occupata est. {AL} otium est.
{CL} nil moror, molesta ei esse nolo; post convenero.
{AL} non ornatis isti apud vos nuptias? {CL} orno et paro.
{AL} non ergo opus est adiutrice? {CL} sati’ domist: ubi nuptiae
fuerint, tum istam convenibo. nunc vale atque istanc iube.
(542-48)
{CLEOSTRATA} Where is your wife?
55
{ALCESIMUS} She is inside, waiting for your invitation. Your husband begged me to
send her over to you to help. Shall I call her?
{CL} Let her be: I do want to disturb her if she is busy.
{AL} She’s not busy!
{CL} It’s not important. I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll come over later.
{AL} Are you not setting up a wedding at your house?
{CL} Yes, setting it up and getting things ready.
{AL} Then don’t you need a helper?
{CL} I’ve got plenty of help in the house. When the nuptials are done, I’ll come see her.
Well, good-bye, and tell her I said hello.
Line 543 makes explicit that Alcesimus and Lysidamus have been colluding. The two men
attempt to manipulate the women’s close relationship to their own advantage, but Cleostrata is
more concerned with foiling her husband’s plans than heeding the expectation, created by
Lysidamus and Alcesimus, that she invite her friend over. She eschews social convention, and
comic expectation, by failing to invite her neighbor over to help with wedding preparation.
Like the Samia, we see that the playwright recognizes how women interact socially, but
again it is background information: the female network is shown indirectly because it obstructs
the men’s love plot. In the Casina, the sincere conversation demonstrating Myrrhina and
Cleostrata’s emotional bond exists so that we, as reader (or audience), expect that the women
will take advantage of opportunities to spend time together. The men then devise a plan that
depends on this expectation, and use the women’s relationship to implement and attempt to carry
out this plan. Throughout the play, Plautus creates humor by showing how the women resist the
expectation that they will congregate at any suggestion, thereby foiling the men’s plot. The play
only works if the audience understands that, normally, the women of the bride’s and groom’s
households will work together to plan a wedding. Furthermore, the women’s relationship is an
integral part of the men’s relationship: the women are able to become friends because their
husbands are friends and neighbors; meanwhile, the men undergo a bonding experience in
56
attempting to manipulate the women’s network for their own benefit. Although it is not the focus
of the play, the women’s relationship plays a significant role.
iv. Terence’ Adelphoe
The Adelphoe is a negative case study of women’s networking because it centers around
an all-female household who have no social ties to other women. The fact that Terence must
explain how they became socially isolated tells us that this is not the norm; the substance of his
explanation tells us what the norm is. We are shown that such women would usually have friends
among their neighbors, but Sostrata and Pamphila are new to town and have not yet developed
these bonds, and in-laws, but Sostrata has not yet secured a groom for marriageable daughter.
The action of the play revolves around two households: the socially isolated women, and
the citizen males who must rescue them. With her husband deceased, the matrona, Sostrata, is
the head of her household, which includes her unmarried daughter, Pamphila, one female slave,
Canthara, and one male slave, Geta. Next door lives a citizen male named Micio and his adopted
son, Aeschinus, who has impregnated Pamphila in an act of rape but since promised to marry
her. Micio’s brother Demea, the stricter of the pair of adelphoe, is biological father of Aeschinus.
Although Aeschinus has done the right thing in promising to marry Pamphila, the promise bears
no real weight until he can get the approval of his father. Because Aeschinus has not yet had the
courage to break the news to his father and uncle, the discretion with which he must act leads to
doubts and anxieties on the part of Sostrata’s family. It is from the description of their plight that
we learn in what ways their social situation is unusual.
The first thing that the character of Sostrata expresses on stage is concern for her
daughter, who has already gone into labor. When Canthara asks the cause of this concern,
Sostrata replies:
57
miseram me, neminem habeo (solae sumus; Geta autem hic non adest).
nec quem ad obstetricem mittam, nec qui accersat Aeschinum.91
(291-92)
Wretched me, I have no one (we are alone; and what’s more, Geta is not here). There is
no one I can send for the midwife, no one who can summon Aeschinus.
Her distress stems from the fact that they have no one to call upon for support (emotional or
physical) while Pamphila is in labor. Normally a young woman in such a state can expect
neighbors and friends to come and assist with the birth and act as midwives,92 but Sostrata and
Pamphila have trouble finding someone to act in this capacity. Through the mouth of Micio
(speaking to Aeschinus), Terence gives us a clue as to how these women came to be in a
situation where they “have no one:”
habitant hic quaedam mulieres pauperculae;
ut opinor, eas non nosse te, et certo scio,
neque enim diu huc migrarunt.
(647-49)
Some rather poor women live here.
I think you wouldn’t know them, in fact I know you don’t,
for they moved here not long ago.
The first reason that these women have no social network is that they just moved to town and
therefore have not had the chance to make friends. Their immediate neighbor is a household of
men only. In their short period in town, Sostrata’s household has had some contact with her
neighbors – enough to get the family into great trouble, but not enough to have a solid support
group among the neighborhood women.93 The other potential pool of female friends is in-laws,
but Sostrata is widowed and Pamphila is not yet married.
91
All text of Terence is from Kauer and Lindsay 1926 unless otherwise noted.
See above, page 45, for examples of this in comedy. While professional midwives and
obstetricians did exist, the poorer classes probably relied on their female relatives or women in
the community, according to French 1986: 73.
93
In fact, the “trouble” that Pamphila is in might be related to the absence of her father (and her
social isolation in general): perhaps Aeschinus is able to gain access to Pamphila precisely
because she does not have a male guardian living with her.
92
58
The latter half of the play deals extensively with the women’s social isolation and the
moral obligation the men feel to rectify this problem. Legally, the rape of a citizen girl is a
serious crime against her kyrios, which in this case is Pamphila’s nearest male relative, Hegio,
and the rapist is liable to severe punishment unless he marries the girl.94 After learning the full
details of the rape committed against Pamphila, Micio’s discussion with Hegio demonstrates that
the men are as concerned, if not more concerned, with the crime that was committed against the
girl, not her kyrios:
{MICIO} ego in hac re nil reperio quam ob rem lauder tanto opere, Hegio:
meum officium facio, quod peccatum a nobis ortumst corrigo.
nisi si me in illo credidisti esse hominum numero qui ita putant,
sibi fieri iniuriam ultro, si quam fecere ipsi expostules,
595
et ultro accusant. id quia a me non est factum, agis gratias?
{HEGIO} ah, minime: numquam te aliter atque es in animum induxi meum.
sed quaeso ut una mecum ad matrem uirginis eas, Micio,
atque istaec eadem quae mihi dixti tute dicas mulieri:
suspicionem hanc propter fratrem ei(u)s esse et illam psaltriam.
600
{MI} si ita aequom censes aut si ita opus est facto, eamus. {HE} bene facis.
nam et illi<c> animum iam relevabis, quae dolore ac miseria
tabescit, et tuo officio fueris functus. sed si aliter putas,
egomet narrabo quae mihi dixti. {MI} immo ego ibo. {HE} bene facis:
omnes, quibus res sunt minus secundae, mage sunt nescioquo modo
605
suspiciosi; ad contumeliam omnia accipiunt magis;
propter suam inpotentiam se semper credunt claudier.
quapropter te ipsum purgare ipsi coram placabilius est.
{MI} et recte et verum dicis. {HE} sequere me ergo hac intro. {MI} maxume.(592-609)
{MICIO} In this matter I see no reason why I should be praised so greatly, Hegio: I am
doing my duty, because I am correcting a wrong that arose from my house. Unless you
believe that I am one of those men who think that some injury has been committed
against them if you complain about something they did, and they in turn accuse you.
Because I am not doing that, are you thanking me?
{HEGIO} Ah, not at all: never have I thought that you were other than you are. But I
beseech you to come together with me to the mother of the girl, Micio, and to personally
94
Cohen 1991: 105-6; Smith 1994: 22-23; Omitowoju 2002: 35. A summary of Aeschinus’ legal
position and possible punishments can be found in Fantham 1975: 55-56. For general works on
rape in antiquity and its social and legal implications for men, see Ogden 1997; Omitowoju
1997; Omitowoju 2002. On the literary representation of rape, see Richlin 1992; Pierce 1997;
James 1998.
59
tell the woman the things which you told me: that this suspicion was really on account of
his brother and the music girl.
{MI} If you think it is fair or if you think this must be done, let us go.
{HE} You are doing a good thing. For you will relieve her spirit there, which is wasting
away with grief and misery, and you will be doing your duty. But if you are thinking of
doing things otherwise, I myself will tell her what you told me.
{MI} No, I’d prefer to go myself.
{HE} You are doing a good thing: Everyone for whom matters are less favorable, they
are for some reason or another more suspicious: they are more likely to take everything
as an insult; because of their powerlessness, they believe that they are always being
attacked. So because of this it is more appeasing if you clear things up with her face to
face.
{MI} You speak right and true.
{HE} Then follow me this way, inside.
{MI} Most definitely.
Aeschinus has harmed another man’s property, and in doing so he has endangered the social
relationship between the men of the two households. Micio and Hegio address this problem first:
someone from Micio’s house has committed a wrong against Hegio (593), and now it is Micio’s
duty to pay recompense for this transgression in order to restore the relationship between the two
men. But this does not settle the matter entirely: it is equally important that Micio set things right
with Sostrata and, by extension, her daughter. Hegio asks Micio to deliver the news to Sostrata
“at once” (una, 598), “personally” (tute, 599), and “face to face” (coram, 608). He makes this
request because, as he tells Micio, Sostrata has been “wasting away with grief and misery” (602).
Hegio explicitly recognizes the emotional pain caused to the women and believes that Micio and
his household have a duty to alleviate their suffering, a duty which is compounded by the fact
that Micio is in a position of power over the “powerless” women (inpotentia, 607).
This moral lesson of rescuing the socially-crippled neighbors is driven home in the end of
the play when Demea arranges for his free-spirited brother, Micio, to marry Sostrata, the
matriarch of the poor, friendless family. Demea is in part motivated by a wish to cause trouble
for his brother, with whom he has been at odds for the entire play on account of their different
60
parenting styles, but the means by which Demea chooses to get back at his brother is revealing.
His primary argument is that they – the men – are responsible for uniting the two households.
Demea tells Aeschinus to tear down the wall separating the two properties:
missa haec face
hymenaeum turbas lampadas tibicinas,
atque hanc in horto maceriam iube dirui
quantum potest: hac transfer, unam fac domum:
transduce et matrem et familiam omnem ad nos.
(906-10)
Drop all these things, the hymn, the hubbub, the lamps, the flute girls, and order the
dividing wall in the garden torn down as much as is possible: bring the girl over, make
one house: bring over her mother and her entire household to ours!
The point of this marriage is to unite two households, and in the case of this particular marriage,
that involves bringing over the bride, her mother, and her slaves (part of the familia). If Sostrata
had her own husband, Demea would not make this suggestion, for Sostrata would remain her
husband’s responsibility. When Micio finds out that the entire household will be moving in with
him, he brings his objections to Demea, who explains the importance of supporting an isolated
household:
{MICIO} iubet frater? ubi is est? tu[n] iubes hoc, Demea?
{DEMEA} ego vero iubeo et hac re et aliis omnibus
quam maxume unam facere nos hanc familiam,
colere adiuvare adiungere. {AESCHINUS} ita quaeso, pater.
{MI} haud aliter censeo. {DE} immo hercle ita nobis decet.
(924-28)
{MICIO} My brother’s orders? Where is he? Did you order this, Demea?
{DEMEA} Yes, I did. I want us, both in this matter and in all others, as best as we are
able, to make this into one family, to cultivate our bond, to help them, to join us together.
{AESCHINUS} Please, father!
{MI} I do not disagree.
{DE} Rather, we must, by Hercules!
Demea feels that it is necessary to join the two households, but not just in the usual way that
marriage joins two households of comparable standing: he specifically states that they are
obliged to help their neighbors (adiuvare, 927). A union of two households might involve mutual
61
benefit, but Sostrata is not in a position to offer anything. Rather, Demea is willing to offer
Micio’s one-sided assistance to the socially crippled neighbors.
Demea then takes this joining of the two households to the extreme: he suggests not just
that Sostrata and her familia move in, but that Micio actually take Sostrata as his wife. In an
attempt to convince Micio to accept the marriage, he offers no arguments as to how the union
would benefit Micio. Instead, he argues that the marriage will benefit Sostrata, and therefore
Micio is obligated to it:
{DEMEA} natu grandior.
{MICIO} scio. {DE} parere iamdiu haec per annos non potest:
nec qui eam respiciat quisquam est: solast. {MI} quam hic rem agit?
{DE} hanc te aequomst ducere, et te operam ut fiat dare.
(930-33)
{DEMEA} She is getting on in years.
{MICIO} I know.
{DE} She is well passed the age where she could bear children: there is no one to look
after her; she is alone.
{MI} (aside): So what is he getting at?
{DE} It is right that you take her as a wife, that you render her assistance.
Demea focuses on her isolation: there will be no one to take care of her in her old age. She will
continue to be alone in the future, as she is alone now (solast). Because of her isolation, in spite
of her undesirability, Demea says Micio is morally obligated (aequomst) to help her by marrying
her. Micio gains nothing, but Sostrata gains everything. Demea proposes the marriage with the
main goal of annoying his brother, not of helping the women; but it is plausible to both Micio
and the audience that men should feel an obligation to help women acquire social support. The
audience will recognize that Micio has, to a certain extent, been duped: Sostrata has already been
invited to accompany her daughter to the new marital house, and there she will be cared for in
her old age. If this is the only obligation the men have to Sostrata, Micio does not see that it has
already been met. Perhaps Demea feels that her current situation only barely meets her needs for
62
food and shelter, whereas marriage to Micio would give her not just the opportunity to survive,
but to be an integral part of the newly combined household. Whatever his actual beliefs, he is
chiefly concerned with making his viewpoint prevail, and he successfully convinces Micio that
Sostrata’s needs will not fully be met unless he marries her. Although they have many motives, it
is clear that these characters recognize the importance of creating and maintaining a stable social
support group for the women of Pamphila’s household.
D. Conclusion
Although the evidence for women’s interactions is scattered and sometimes limited to a
mere line, we are able to create a picture of female social circles in the comic world. Despite
genre differences between Aristophanes and the New Comic poets, the portrayal is consistent
across all four authors: what women pretend to do in Aristophanes, they actually do in New
Comedy. For example, the women of Ecclesiazusae must tell their husbands that they are going
off to socially sanctioned, small scale get-togethers when in fact they are going off for a socially
risqué, community-wide meeting of women who intend to overthrow the government. The
excuses that they give, such as breakfasting with friends and attending to childbirth, are precisely
what we see women doing in together in New Comedy. The combined evidence demonstrates a
consistent picture of a women’s subculture and the rules of operation within that culture.
Whether this is due to direct literary influence of Old Comedy on New, or a shared historical
culture in which all four authors operate, is beyond the scope of this project, although I suspect
that the answer includes a little of both. Finally, many of the plays rely upon that subculture as an
important mechanism for advancing the plot. Women’s relationships are, in fact, the material out
of which Aristophanes constructs his Lysistrata, Thesmophoriazusae, and Ecclesiazusae, to
which we now turn.
63
Chapter 3. Solidarity by Gender: The Women of Aristophanes
Whereas Chapter 2 illustrated the nature of the women’s network, the remaining chapters
examine how women interact with each other within that network. I devote a separate chapter to
Aristophanes because, as the only representative of Old Comedy in my study, his treatment of
the social relationships between women is notably different from that of the New Comedy
authors. The women of the Lysistrata, Thesmophoriazusae, and Ecclesiazusae act for the good of
the gender as a whole, with no particular attention paid to the more intimate relationships
between two or three female friends. O’Higgins argues that the presentation of women as a
unified body is a function of fifth century Athenian society and is reflected in the wider literary
tradition, including other genres and the extant fragments of other Old Comedy authors. Because
women were not publically visible, and in private women of various age groups and classes
worked together to raise children and run the household, it was easy for men to think of them as
collectively.95 Henderson notes an additional purpose in presenting women as a unified body,
arguing that Aristophanes used the theme of solidarity among women to urge similar bonds of
solidarity among men in Athens and throughout the Greek poleis.96 In this chapter I examine the
decisions that Aristophanes’ women make on behalf of the gendered group, what social and
physical risks they are willing to take for each other, and how the women of these three plays
achieve as a unified body what individual women cannot: a public voice.97
In each play the women have decided that men (or a single man, in the case of the
Thesmophoriazusae) have created a problem affecting all women, and so all women must work
together to fix it. The man or men have done something to upset the marital dynamic between
95
O’Higgins 2003: 142.
Henderson 1996: 37.
97
For an analysis of the silence of women in fifth century Athenian society and literature, see
McClure 1999 and Lardinois and McClure 2001.
96
64
husband and wife: Euripides in the Thesmophoriazusae has created plays that give away the
secrets of women, so that real life Athenian men no longer trust their wives at home. The men of
Lysistrata have involved Athens and Sparta in an endless war, with the result that the men can no
longer fulfill their marital obligations to their spouses.98 The men of the Ecclesiazusae have
misgoverned the city so gravely that the women are suffering at home. In each case, the threat
posed to women’s daily lives inspires them to combine forces to fix the problem, in spite of a
society that traditionally limits the opportunities for them to assemble. By transgressing this
social norm, they temporarily risk upsetting their relationships with their husbands, but hope
ultimately to improve the quality of life for all women.
Since women are usually fragmented and confined to their individual homes, each plot
must address the unlikelihood of the women’s unity. Aristophanes works with existing social
institutions to offer his female characters believable ways to gather. The festival of the
Thesmophoria offers the women of that play one of the few acceptable occasions for women to
assemble in large numbers in public.99 The women of the Lysistrata and Ecclesiazusae must use
various excuses to slip out of their homes. Each exploits a social leniency that allows women to
go outdoors for approved private gatherings, when in fact each is planning to join up with a
much larger group. In these two plays, an eloquent speaker is required to convince the women to
overcome their socially conditioned reluctance to unify. Unaccustomed to such large-scale social
interactions, the women use their local networking skills to forge bonds with women from all
98
Shaw 1975: 264-65 shows that the actions of men create problems for women within the
oikos, which then necessitates that women step outside of their roles to correct the problems.
99
Burkert 1985: 246 demonstrates that the Greeks “interpreted Demeter thesmophoros as the
bringer of order, the order of marriage, civilization, and of life itself.” Therefore this particular
festival is an appropriate setting for a play in which the women attempt to restore traditional
marital relations.
65
over the deme in the Thesmophoriazusae and Ecclesiazusae, and even other demes in the
Lysistrata.
Once unified, the women achieve unprecedented power over the public discourse. The
assembled women of the Thesmophoriazusae gain complete control over the few, outnumbered
men in their midst. When Euripides hears that the women are planning to discuss him at the
festival, he is drawn into the women’s gathering on the Pnyx, captured, and forced to succumb to
the their demands.100 The men of the Lysistrata suffer a similar fate: the unification of the
women allows them not just to control military policy, but even to become physically equal to
the men. Men are used to having superior strength, which they use to control women’s voices,
but a depletion of their ranks and a subsequent rallying of the women allows women to take
usurp this prerogative.101 Finally, the Ecclesiazusae shows a complete reversal of the usual
power dynamic between the genders: the unified women use their collective voice to deprive
men of a civic voice by taking control of the government out of male hands entirely.
A. Thesmophoriazusae: Women, Men, and the Public Discourse about Gender
Roles in the Home
I start with the Thesmophoriazusae because it directly addresses the issue at the heart of
all three plays: the struggle between men and women for control over public discourse.102 The
dramatic setting of this play is the annual women’s festival of the Thesmophoria, from which
men are barred. As demonstrated in Chapter 2, religious festivals were one of few opportunities
100
Although it is the Kinsman who is literally trapped, Euripides allows himself to be equally
ensnared because he feels that it is his duty to rescue him. See Zeitlin 1996: 397-99 on Euripides’
gender transformation.
101
Katz 1995: 25 summarizes the fifth century Athenian zeitgeist: “To the man belongs the right
of rule, derived from the fact of his physical and intellectual superiority, ….”
102
For general studies on the representation of gender in the Thesmophoriazusae, see Zeitlin
1996, Stehle 2002, and Van Steen 2002 (a reception study).
66
when it was socially acceptable for women to assemble in large numbers. Since the social worlds
of men and women were largely separate – indeed men were excluded entirely from this festival
– Aristophanes is not expected to know what actually occurred at the Thesmophoria, and he is
free to fabricate according to his dramatic needs. In a patriarchal society that limited women’s
public speech,103 the thought of women’s voices going unchecked at such an event must have
caused unease for many Athenian men. Aristophanes explores the worst possible scenario: that
the women are using their voices to challenge male authority: the women take control of the
public discourse regarding what is and what is not acceptable for women to do at home. They use
their combined strength to take that power away from Euripides, who had affected the public
discourse through his plays.
At the festival, the chairwoman (Κηρύκαινα) demonstrates that the problem posed by
Euripides is one that affects all women equally: ἀδικεῖν γὰρ δοκεῖ ἡμῖν ἁπάσαις (“For he
seems to have wronged all of us,” 378-79).104 The unnamed character Γυνή Α best describes the
nature of the problem: Euripides has represented women negatively in his plays (383-87). This is
particularly troubling because, as a consequence, there are a number of ways in which husbands
no longer trust their wives at home: after viewing Euripides’ plays, men get suspicious of their
wives and search the house for adulterers (395-97); childless women can no longer claim
abandoned children as their own because their husbands are more vigilant (407-9); old men are
no longer willing to take on young wives because of Euripides’ assertion that δέσποινα γὰρ
103
This is illustrated by the funeral oration of Pericles, in which he said that respectable women
are seen and not heard (Thucydides 2.45.2).
104
Line numbers and text of Thesmophoriazusae, Lysistrata, and Ecclesiazusae are from Hall
and Geldart 1906.
67
γέροντι νυμφίῳ γυνή (“the wife is boss over her elderly groom,” 413).105 Finally, the kinds of
power that women have traditionally enjoyed at home have been threatened:
ἃ δ’ ἦν ἡμῖν πρὸ τοῦ
αὐταῖς ταμιεῦσαι καὶ προαιρούσαις λαθεῖν
ἄλφιτον ἔλαιον οἶνον, οὐδὲ ταῦτ’ ἔτι
ἔξεστιν. oἱ γὰρ ἄνδρες ἤδη κλῄδια
αὐτοὶ φοροῦσι κρυπτὰ κακοηθέστατα
Λακωνίκ’ ἄττα, τρεῖς ἔχοντα γομφίους.
πρὸ τοῦ μὲν οὖν ἦν ἀλλ’ ὑποῖξαι τὴν θύραν
ποιησαμέναισι δακτύλιον τριωβόλου,
νῦν δ’ οὗτος αὐτοὺς ᾡκότριψ Εὐριπίδης
ἐδίδαξε θριπήδεστ’ ἔχειν σφραγίδια
ἐξαψαμένους.
420
425
(418-28)
The opportunities afforded to us before to be stewards by ourselves and to secretly take
barley, olive oil, and wine from the stores, these opportunities no longer exist. Now our
husbands themselves wear secret keys, some thoroughly nasty Laconian ones, the ones
with three teeth. Before, it was no problem to secretly open the door ourselves with a
signet ring we had made for three obols, but now this homegrown slave Euripides has
taught them to wear thoroughly complicated106 seals attached to their belts.
The αὐταῖς of line 419 emphasizes the autonomy the women used to have in managing the
storehouse, and it is contrasted with the αὐτοὶ of line 422, showing that the power over the
storehouses has now been transferred to the men.107 Even when women did not have explicit
control, they managed to retake control covertly by purchasing counterfeit keys fairly cheaply.
Euripides has taken away both their sanctioned and unsanctioned control over the household
economy by teaching men how to make more complicated seals with which to lock the
storerooms, seals that could not be replicated on account of the unique way in which they were
produced. Euripides has poisoned the dialogue about women’s role in the home, such that the
105
Gardner 1989: 53-58 examines how this passage reflects real anxieties of Athenian men,
albeit in exaggerated form.
106
Literally, “worm-eaten.” The pattern in which worms ate away at the wood of the seal was
unique and therefore difficult to replicate.
107
In his Oikonomikos 9.15, Xenophon says that ideally the wife is the guardian of the things in
the oikos: νομίσαι οὖν ἐκέλευον, ἔφη, τὴν γυναῖκα καὶ αὐτὴν νομοφύλακα τῶν ἐν τῇ
οἰκίᾳ εἶναι.
68
men of Athens, encouraged by his plays, now control household gender roles in a way that is
unfavorable to women.
Listening to these complaints is Euripides’ Kinsman, whom Euripides has plucked,
singed, dressed as a woman, and sent to the festival as his spy. When then the Kinsman speaks
up in defense of Euripides (466-519), the other women immediately suspect something (520-30).
Taaffe offers a technical explanation of the Kinsman’s failure to pose as a woman: when the
Kinsman speaks, he consistently uses feminine endings, but “the unsubtle and unironic content
of his speech does not conform to the feminine ways of Women A and B. The message of the
speech is rather markedly male.”108 McClure suggests an additional linguistic explanation, that
his use of obscenities betrays his masculinity.109 While the Kinsman may not convincingly adopt
the speech of women, the chorus women do not acknowledge any suspicion. In fact, in their
response they still call the Kinsman “one of us” (ἐν ἡμῖν, 526). They do, however, express anger
at the content of “her” speech because “she” dared to speak “shameful things openly” (κατὰ τὸ
φανερὸν ὧδ᾽ ἀναιδῶς, 525).
In response to the Kinsman’s speech, Woman A changes the dialogue so that the women
no longer consider the problem individually, but from a unified perspective. She explains that
Euripides has committed an affront to the entire gender. First, she rebukes her companions for
allowing Euripides to slander all women (περιυβρίζειν ἡμᾶς ἁπάσας, 535-36), using the term
ἡμᾶς ἁπάσας to emphasize the shared nature of their problem. She then concludes that the
women will have to work together to stick up for themselves:
εἰ μὲν οὖν τις ἔστιν· εἰ δὲ μή, ἡμεῖς
αὐταί τε καὶ τὰ δουλάρια τέφραν ποθὲν λαβοῦσαι
ταύτης ἀποψιλώσομεν τὸν χοῖρον, ἵνα διδαχθῇ
108
109
Taaffe 1993: 90.
McClure 1999: 231-33.
69
(536-
γυνὴ γυναῖκας οὖσα μὴ κακῶς λέγειν τὸ λοιπόν.
39)
If there is anyone…. Well, if there is not, then we ourselves and our slave girls will get
some hot ashes from somewhere and singe the hair off her pussy. That will teach her to
talk trash about other women ever again!
This passage is a turning point: Woman A has decided that all women must work together not
just to discuss a problem – which was the main order of business as explicitly stated by the
chairwoman (377-78) – but to bring about the solution. Woman A expresses the need for all
women (ἡμεῖς αὐταί, 536-37) to collaborate towards a common goal: by punishing this woman
(the Kinsman in disguise), they will make great strides towards eliminating negative speech
about their gender. This social pressure is directed against any woman who does not act or speak
in a way that is beneficial to the group as a whole. The pressure to homogenize the group
behavior is further shown by the subsequent exchange, when the Kinsman states that the rules of
free speech (παρρησία, 541) allow “her” to speak in defense of Euripides (542) and Woman A
corrects her:
οὐ γάρ σε δεῖ δοῦναι δίκην; ἥτις μόνη τέτληκας
ὑπὲρ ἀνδρὸς ἀντειπεῖν, ὃς ἡμᾶς πολλὰ κακὰ δέδρακεν
ἐπίτηδες εὑρίσκων λόγους, ὅπου γυνὴ πονηρὰ
ἐγένετο, Μελανίππας ποιῶν Φαίδρας τε· Πηνελόπην δὲ
οὐπώποτ’ ἐπόιησ’, ὅτι γυνὴ σώφρων ἔδοξεν εἶναι.
(544-48)
Is it not necessary for you to pay the penalty? You, the only one who dared to contradict
us in defense of a man who has done us many evils by purposefully finding stories where
a woman is wicked, by representing Melanippes and Phaedras; never once did he create a
Penelope, because she has proved to be a sensible woman.
She emphasizes that the Kinsman is the only one to go against the group opinion. Furthermore,
McClure points out that the concept of παρρησία did not apply to women, only to men.110 Thus
the Kinsman as a woman did not have any such license, and in fact her claim to such a right
further marks her as an outsider to the women’s group and a person who promotes male values
110
McClure 1999: 19, 234.
70
instead of female. Because she went against the group opinion, the rest of the women are now
justified in rebuking her in an attempt to reform her behavior. Woman A, like a good
demagogue, has effectively turned anger into action.
Membership in the group is an important part of identity for the women of this play, as is
shown by the test that they use to ferret out the imposter. After Kleisthenes announces that there
is a man in their midst pretending to be a woman (584-91), the women seek out the intruder by
asking who in the group recognizes each woman. The first woman questioned, Woman A, states
that she is the wife of Kleonymus (605), but her identity is only accepted when the rest of the
women confirm that they recognize her (607). Once verified, she is treated as a trustworthy
member of the group and loyal to the women’s cause, such that her word is now good enough to
vouch for the second woman questioned, who turns out to be the wet nurse of Woman A (609).
Finally the Kinsman is questioned, because, as the chorus tells Kleisthenes, μόνην γὰρ αὐτήν,
ὦνερ οὐ γιγνώσκομεν (“For she is the only one, sir, whom we do not recognize,” 614). The
Kinsman is unable to successfully set up a connection between “herself” and anyone else in the
community, either male or female. “She” is first asked to state her husband’s name, which she
cannot do (619-20); she is then asked to state her roommate at the Thesmophoria, which she
cannot do (625), nor can she properly recall the events of the previous year’s Thesmophoria
(633-34). As soon as he betrays that he is in fact not a part of the group, not privy to the same
information as the other women, then his identity is exposed (634-35). Although the women wish
to physically verify their suspicions by stripping the Kinsman, one woman says clearly ὅδ’ ἐστὶν
ἁνὴρ ὃν λέγεις (“This is the man whom you speak of,” 635), indicating that she is already quite
certain they have found the spy. The Kinsman is shown to be not a woman because he does not
71
have the expected social connections to other women in the group; his genital status is only
examined as an afterthought and for comic affect.
After the women expose the Kinsman, his struggle for freedom becomes intertwined with
the women’s struggle with Euripides. Euripides tries to evade the charge of speaking negatively
about women by staging several rescue attempts based on deception and brute force, but his
efforts repeatedly fail.111 It is only after Euripides addresses the women’s complaints directly that
they agree not to interfere with his rescue operation:
{ΕΥΡΙΠΙΔΕΣ} γυναῖκες εἰ βούλεσθε τὸν λοιπὸν χρόνον
σπονδὰς ποιήσασθαι πρὸς ἐμέ, νυνὶ πάρα,
ἐφ’ ᾧτ’ ἀκοῦσαι μηδὲν ὑπ’ ἐμοῦ μηδαμὰ
κακὸν τὸ λοιπόν. ταῦτ’ ἐπικηρυκεύομαι.
{ΧΟΡΟΣ} χρείᾳ δὲ ποίᾳ τόνδ’ ἐπεσφέρεις λόγον;
{ΕΥ} ὅδ’ ἐστὶν οὑν τῇ σανίδι κηδεστὴς ἐμός.
ἢν οὖν κομίσωμαι τοῦτον, οὐδὲν μή ποτε
κακῶς ἀκούσητ’· ἢν δὲ μὴ πίθησθέ μοι,
ἃ νῦν ὑποικουρεῖτε τοῖσιν ἀνδράσιν
ἀπὸ τῆς στρατιᾶς παροῦσιν ὑμῶν διαβαλῶ.
{ΧΟ} τὰ μὲν παρ’ ἡμῖν ἴσθι σοι πεπεισμένα·
1160
1165
1170
{EURIPIDES} Women, if you ever wish to make a truce with me, now is the time. That
in the future you will never hear another bad word from me, this is my promise.
{CHORUS} Why do you offer this proposal?
{EU} This man on the plank is my kinsman. If I can take him home with me, then you
will never again here me speak a bad word. But if you refuse, whatever you are secretly
doing at home behind your husbands’ backs while they are out in the trenches, I will
denounce it to them.
{CHO} You can be sure that you’ve convinced us.
His original infraction was one of speech, and the women will accept no solution that does not
directly address Euripides’ speech. Although the parodies allowed him to play with the way in
111
The scholarly interpretation of the rescue attempts is diverse. Zeitlin 1996: 390-99 argues that
Euripides fails as long as his parodies represents women negatively, and he succeeds only when,
having undergone the female experience himself, he adopts parodies that represent women in a
more favorably. Tzanetou 2002: 351-53 argues that each parody moves closer to the Demeter
and Persephone myth, and the final parody is successful because it most closely approximates
the myth and so conveys the play’s message: that Euripides’ reconciliation with the women
ensures dramatic fertility, a theme continually alluded to with the Demeter references.
72
which he represents women, no parody amounts to a promise to change how he writes women in
future tragedies. The Kinsman cannot be rescued, and the play cannot end, until the women’s
demands are met. With Euripides’ promise, the women have secured control over what he says
in public.
All of the men in this play, save the barbarian who appears in the last scene, are mocked
by Aristophanes for varying levels of effeminacy. Agathon voluntarily takes up markers of
femininity in order to better write women, earning him a great deal of ridicule from the Kinsman
(130-52); the Kinsman has been plucked, singed, and made to conceal the things that define him
as a male; and Kleisthenes introduces himself as a kindred spirit to women (ξυγγενεῖς, 574),112
as is evidenced by his clean-shaven face; and Euripides has been forced to undergo the female
experience in order to rescue his relative. In sum: Agathon dresses as a woman, the Kinsman
impersonates a woman, Kleisthenes wants to be a woman, and Euripides is forced to become a
woman. The unified body of women admits no “real” men into their company, only men who are
stripped of their masculine markers and, with it, their power over women. In the settlement that
they reach with Euripides, the women gain the right to control how he presents women in his
plays, and in this way they change the dialogue that takes place in individual homes. The speech
of Woman A (383-432) showed us that Euripides’ plays teach men how to interpret women’s
behavior and determine what conduct is acceptable for them, so it follows that by controlling
Euripides, the women now control public and private discourse about women.
112
This is a pathic joke: Aristophanes is implying that Kleisthenes is womanly because he enjoys
being the passive partner of a homosexual encounter (or perhaps the implication is the other way
around: that Kleisthenes must be a pathic because he is womanly).
73
B. Lysistrata: Women, Men, and the Public Discourse about Military Policy
Whereas I used the Thesmophoriazusae to demonstrate that the women of Aristophanes
exhibit a collective identity, I use the Lysistrata to show how women make decisions based on
loyalty to that group. The problem, as in the previous play, is that the men have upset matters on
the home front, in this case by misgoverning the polis, and the women are feeling the
repercussions at home. Lysistrata’s goal is for the women to change military policy by ending the
war, a topic that traditionally falls in the realm of public and male discourse. She hopes that the
common threat to women’s daily lives will create a common sense of duty. She tells the women,
ὅλης τῆς Ἑλλάδος ἐν τᾶις γυναιξίν ἐστιν ἡ σωτηρία (“The salvation of all of Greece is in the
women’s hands,” 29-30).113 She appeals to the principle of strength in numbers: with greater
numbers comes greater power to affect change. Although collectivism should provide security,
the women struggle with the desire to protect their individual interests first. They take a number
of personal risks when joining the cause, and Lysistrata must convince them that it is beneficial
to give priority to the group’s goals.
The opening conversation between Lysistrata and Kalonike calls attention to this basic
conflict between self-interest and cooperation. Lysistrata first argues that they must save Greece,
or else the Peloponnesians and Boeotians will die out (29-35). Kalonike does not care. Why
should she? The problem she faces is the devastation of war, and she views the destruction of the
enemies and allies as a destruction of the materiel of war, thus solving her problem. But when
Lysistrata adds that the war threatens the Athenians, too (37-38), Kalonike shows the first
inklings of cooperation. She changes her tone from refusal to defeatist, suggesting that she would
113
Konstan 1993: 439 suggests that the women are presented as a unified body in part to call
attention to the fragmented nature of the warring men: “By representing them as engaging in a
political action against the war, Aristophanes conjures up the image of women as a countersociety, a kind of mirror world of the masculine civic space.”
74
help if she thought it would make a difference. She tries to offer evidence for women’s
ineffectiveness, but Lysistrata turns women’s perceived weaknesses into their strength,
explaining that they will use their sexuality as a weapon (46-48).114 Once Kalonike is shown a
means by which the women could possibly affect change, she is more willing, even eager, to
participate in the conversation (51).
Kalonike is just one woman, and her conversation with Lysistrata takes place before the
other women arrive. To convince the wider audience, Lysistrata emphasizes that all women are
suffering, making the problem both personal and collective. She says:
τοὺς πατέρας οὐ ποθεῖτε τοὺς τῶν παιδίων
ἐπὶ στρατιᾶς ἀπόντας; εὖ γὰρ οἶδ’ ὅτι
πάσαισιν ὑμῖν ἐστιν ἀποδημῶν ἀνήρ.
(99-101)
Don’t you long for the fathers of your children when they are away at war? I know well
that every one of you has a husband that is away from home.
Three women then chime in with their own personal story of loss and longing (102-7). By
emphasizing their personal suffering, Lysistrata has made them more amenable to joining her
cause. Women start volunteering things that they are willing to sacrifice in order to make this
work: Myrrhine is willing to sell her dress (112-14), Kalonike jokes about cutting herself in two
like a fish and donating half to the cause (115-16), and Lampito is willing to climb Taygetus
(117-18). In short, the women offer their money, their time, and their physical endurance. When
Lysistrata informs them that their contribution will involve giving something up personally
(ἀφεκτέ’, 122), Kalonike interjects that she is willing to give up even her life (ποιήσομεν, κἂν
ἀποθανεῖν ἡμᾶς δέῃ “We will do it, even if we must die in the process!” 123). But when
Lysistrata finally reveals what they must give up (sex), she immediately loses support: women
start turning away, walking away, shaking their heads, even crying (124-28).
114
Foley 1982: 5 argues that the women’s scheme is a success precisely because women remain
women and do not intrude on the masculine domain.
75
Although Lysistrata successfully convinces the women that they are all suffering and that
they need to work together to address the problem, she loses support because the sacrifice is
perceived to be too great. The women are in a stalemate, but Lysistrata recognizes that the
support of just one influential woman can help turn the tide. She appeals to Lampito, whose
eventual capitulation is a function of her asceticism, a stereotypical trait of Spartans. Here a
quality that is conventionally mocked by Athenians becomes an important mechanism in
advancing the plot of the play, since it is precisely what Lysistrata’s plan needs. With an austere
tone, Lampito says:
χαλεπὰ μὲν ναὶ τὼ σιὼ
γυναῖκας ἐσθ’ ὑπνῶν ἄνευ ψωλᾶς μόνας.
ὄμως γα μάν· δεῖ τᾶς γὰρ εἰράνας μάλ’ αὖ.
(142-44)
By the two gods, it is difficult for women to sleep alone without the prick. By golly, I’ll
do it anyway. We need peace again.
This attitude is what Lysistrata asks of all the women: the willingness to make a personal
sacrifice on behalf of the greater good. She praises Lampito as the ideal to which all woman
should aspire: ὦ φιλτάτη σὺ καὶ μόνη τούτων γυνή (“Dearest woman, you are the only real
woman here!” 145). Lampito, next to Lysistrata, has taken the biggest risk: she is willing to
make the sacrifice, and she risks the animosity of her peers, but has no promise of reward since
the collaborators do not yet have sufficient numbers to pull off the plan. But Lampito’s pledge
puts the movement one person closer to that critical mass needed for the plan to be effective. The
revolution now has two key women on its side: Lysistrata, on the Athenian side, and Lampito, on
the Spartan side. This is enough to get others thinking about cooperating.
The next person to waver is Kalonike, Lysistrata’s friend and neighbor, who suggests that
she would be more willing if she had greater assurance of success. She asks:
εἰ δ’ ὡς μάλιστ’ ἀπεχοίμεθ’ οὗ σὺ δὴ λέγεις,
ὃ μὴ γένοιτο, μᾶλλον ἂν διὰ τουτογὶ
76
(146-48)
γένοιτ’ ἂν εἰρήνη;
Even if we could hold back as much as possible from that thing you are talking about,
heaven forbid, would peace be any more likely because of it?
Lysistrata’s final effort to convince the women to make the sacrifice hinges on her ability to
convince them that the plan will succeed. Lysistrata responds to a series of “what if” questions
from her peers, successfully arguing that they have the power to deny men sex (157-66).115
Lampito offers a practical concern of military funding, but Lysistrata has already seen to it that
the older women will blockade the treasury (175-79). Lampito is finally convinced, and she
consents to swear an oath immediately (181-83). In fact, she speaks for everyone when she says,
πάρφαινε μὰν τὸν ὅρκον, ὡς ὀμιόμεθα (“Bring out the oath, so that we may all swear it,”
183). Her use of the first person plural shows that she has become the de facto spokesperson for
everyone who is not Lysistrata, especially the women of Sparta and their allies. It was she who
posed the final problem, and once it was answered, she is able to accept the proposal on behalf of
the group. Now they have reached that critical mass whereby they have enough people to make
the plan effective. The rest of the women can now join the cause relatively risk-free, since they
are reasonably certain that their sacrifice will pay off. Their unity is formalized when they all
enthusiastically swear Lysistrata’s oath (209-37).
The solidarity among the women gives them the strength that they need to carry out their
individual sacrifice, a sacrifice that they are making for the benefit of each other. The dialogue of
the play highlights how difficult it is for the women to give up sex, but it also shows that they
115
Konstan 1993: 435 draws attention to a logical flaw with the sex-strike. Lysistrata states that
all the men are away on the front, which means that both husbands and wives are already being
deprived of sex. The women decide to act because they are suffering from the lack of sex, but the
men clearly are not suffering from the disruption to marital life. Therefore, the sex strike is
designed to arouse and then frustrate the men so that they do care.
77
give each other the strength to keep their promise. Even while taking the oath the women
indicate how much they are suffering: when Kalonike swears that she will let no man approach
her in an aroused state (215), she adds, παπαῖ ὑπολύεταί μου τὰ γόνατ’, ὦ Λυσιστράτη (“Oh
gods, my knees are buckling, Lysistrata!” 215-16). Her resolve is wavering. When she manages
to complete the oath, Lysistrata starts to take the first drink of consecration. Kalonike says to her,
τὸ μέρος γ’ ὦ φίλη, | ὅπως ἂν ὦμεν εὐθὺς ἀλλήλων φίλαι (“Only your share, comrade, so
that we all start out on friendly terms with one another,” 238-39). This gentle warning is
Kalonike’s way of saying that everyone must cooperate as a community of equals in order to
maintain their willingness to help each other. Even though Lysistrata has taken an organizational
role, she is not allowed to take the role of leader or accept privileges that come with a
hierarchical social system. For this community of women to work, it must be arranged as a
community of social equals; Kalonike therefore pressures Lysistrata not to overstep her role.
There are other, less subtle, ways to maintain cooperation within this community: Lysistrata
sends Lampito home to carry out the sex strike in Sparta, but keeps a number of Spartans in
Athens as hostages (244).
Lysistrata gives us a detailed description of how the sex sacrifice takes a toll on the
women, and again she demonstrates that unity and friendship are the most effective tools to get
the women through it. A large part of the play is devoted to the humor inherent in watching the
characters try to abstain from sex. Lysistrata tells us how the women have been sneaking off of
the acropolis to try to have sex, each in an increasingly more risky and ludicrous manner: the
first woman sneaked off to Pan’s Grotto (721), the second tried to escape the summit using a
rope and pulley (722-23), and the third mounted a sparrow trying to fly off the acropolis (723-
78
27).116 Next, several women approach Lysistrata with various excuses as to why they should be
allowed to go home (728-61). The urgency in their excuses, and the sexual imagery involved,
highlights just how much these women are suffering for the cause. The scene is a bit chaotic,
with four women urgently requesting leave from the acropolis for reasons that they portray as
dire. Losing control over the women, Lysistrata finds herself making a motivational speech in an
attempt to restore order. She reminds the women that if they are suffering, their husbands are
also suffering, which means that their plan is working (763-65). Most importantly, she issues a
renewed call for unity by claiming that an oracle predicts victory for them only if they stick
together: ὡς χρησμὸς ἡμῖν ἐστιν ἐπικρατεῖν, ἐὰν | μὴ στασιάσωμεν (“There is an oracle
predicting victory for us, but only if we do not dissolve into factions,” 767-68). She uses the
oracle, no doubt fabricated, to convince the women that the success of their plan depends on their
solidarity. The text of the oracle is as follows:
{ΛΥΣΙΣΤΡΑΤΗ} ἀλλ’ ὁπόταν πτήξωσι χελιδόνες εἰς ἕνα χῶρον,
τοὺς ἔποπας φεύγουσαι, ἀπόσχωνταί τε φαλήτων,
παῦλα κακῶν ἔσται, τὰ δ’ ὑπέρτερα νέρτερα θήσει
Ζεὺς ὑψιβρεμέτης— {ΓΥΝΗ Α} ἐπάνω κατακεισόμεθ’ ἡμεῖς;
{ΛΥ} ἢν δὲ διαστῶσιν καὶ ἀνάπτωνται πτερύγεσσιν
ἐξ ἱεροῦ ναοῖο χελιδόνες, οὐκέτι δόξει
ὄρνεον οὐδ’ ὁτιοῦν καταπυγωνέστερον εἶναι.
{ΓΥΝΗ Α} σαφής γ’ ὁ χρησμὸς νὴ Δί’. ὢ πάντες θεοί.
(770-77)
{LYSISTRATA} Yea, when the swallows hole up in a single home,
fleeing the hoopoes and leaving the phallus alone,
then are their problems solved, and high-thundering Zeus
shall reverse what’s up and what’s down –
{WOMAN Α} You mean we’ll be lying on top?
{LY} But:
If the swallows begin to argue and fly away
down from the citadel holy, all will say,
no bird more disgustingly horny lives today!
{W. Α} A pretty explicit oracle. Ye gods! 117
116
Each example is a sexual pun in the Greek. See Henderson 1991 for a discussion of obscene
language in Attic comedy and a glossary of Aristophanic words with double meanings.
117
Text and translation from Henderson 2000: 373.
79
As Woman A points out, the meaning of the oracle is clear (σαφής, 777): Their plan will only
succeed if they remain united. The “horniness” (καταπυγωνέστερον)118 that threatens their
unity is the subject of Lysistrata’s scorn, and she assures the women that such horniness, if it
disrupts their plans, will also be the subject of gossip. Gossip, a form of censure by the
community, is one of the most powerful ways to keep the behavior of independently minded
people in line. By failing to cooperate, a woman not only jeopardizes the plan, but also harms her
personal reputation. After reading the oracle, Lysistrata gives a final call to arms:
μή νυν ἀπείπωμεν ταλαιπωρούμεναι,
ἀλλ’ εἰσίωμεν. καὶ γὰρ αἰσχρὸν τουτογί,
ὦ φίλταται, τὸν χρησμὸν εἰ προδώσομεν.
(778-80)
Let us not give up when the going is tough, but let us go inside. It would be shameful,
comrades, if we betray the oracle.
She recognizes that things are tough, but suggests that this should be a cause for sticking
together, not separating. Again she uses shame to motivate her peers, and again she uses the φίλroot to emphasize camaraderie.
In addition to the social pressure which women face from each other, they are subject to
equally strong pressure from their husbands. While the women exhort each other to stick to the
plan, the men pressure them to abandon it. Wives must juggle loyalty to their husbands with
loyalty to the women’s group, and no matter which side they choose, they risk harming their
relationship with the other. The conflicting loyalties experienced by each woman are showcased
when Myrrhine is sent to antagonize her husband Kinesias. Myrrhine begins this encounter on
the acropolis, whence Lysistrata sends her with the following instructions:
118
καταπυγωνέστερον is literally “one who is overly fond of being buggered” and is used as an
insult, usually against men, to imply that they enjoy being the passive partners in sex and are
slaves to a deviant and excessive sexual desire. The term can also be applied to women because
they are viewed as naturally passive in a sexual encounter. On sex, power, and penetration, see
Foucault 1988, Dover 1989, Halperin et al 1990, Halperin 1990a, Winkler 1990, Cohen 1991.
80
σὸν ἔργον ἤδη τοῦτον ὀπτᾶν καὶ στρέφειν
κἀξηπεροπεύειν καὶ φιλεῖν καὶ μὴ φιλεῖν,
καὶ πάνθ’ ὑπέχειν πλὴν ὧν σύνοιδεν ἡ κύλιξ.
(839-41)
Then your task is to roast him and torture him and beguile him and love him and not love
him and to offer him everything except that which only the cup knows about.
Myrrhine responds with an enthusiastic yes: ἀμέλει ποιήσω ταῦτ’ ἐγώ (“Don’t worry, I’ll do
it!” 842).119 Her resolve is solid; she has spent days in isolation with the other women on the
acropolis and is feeling no conflicting loyalties. The introduction of her husband to the scene
causes her to waver. When he comes to fetch her, Myrrhine tries to back out of the plan to
torment him, saying to Lysistrata:
φιλῶ φιλῶ ‘γὼ τοῦτον· ἀλλ’ οὐ βούλεται
ὑπ’ ἐμοῦ φιλεῖσθαι. σὺ δ’ ἐμὲ τούτῳ μὴ κάλει.
(870-71)
I love, love this man! But he doesn’t want to be loved by me. Don’t make me go to him!
The emphatic use of the σὺ shows that she is upset with Lysistrata personally for putting her into
this conflict. Kinesias then capitalizes on her weakness: in his attempts to sway her, he appeals to
her traditional role as wife and mother. First, he indicates that she is supposed to obey her
husband, saying, ἐμοῦ καλοῦντος οὐ καταβήσει Μυρρίνη; (“Will you not come down when I
call you, Myrrhine?” 874). When she is not persuaded, he shamelessly uses the baby as bait:
{ΚΙΝΗΣΙΑΣ}
μὴ δῆτ’, ἀλλὰ τῷ γοῦν παιδίῳ
ὑπάκουσον· οὗτος οὐ καλεῖς τὴν μαμμίαν;
{ΠΑΙΣ} μαμμία, μαμμία, μαμμία.
{ΚΙ} αὕτη τί πάσχεις; οὐδ’ ἐλεεῖς τὸ παιδίον
ἄλουτον ὂν κἄθηλον ἕκτην ἡμέραν;
(877-81)
{KINESIAS} No, don’t go! But at least listen to the baby. You, call out to your mommy!
{BABY} Mama, mama, mama!
{KI.} Woman, what’s wrong with you? Don’t you pity your child, your child who is
unwashed and unsuckled for six days now?
119
Faraone 2006: 210 and Henderson 1987a: ad 845-63 argue that the characterizations of
Lysistrata and Kalonike in this scene have many parallels to the literary characterizations of
procuress and courtesan, respectively.
81
The appeal to her role as a mother is enough to break her will, as she herself acknowledges: οἷον
τὸ τεκεῖν· καταβατέον, (“How great it is to bring children into the world. I must go down
there!” 884). When they meet face to face, he tries to make her feel guilty for neglecting her role
as keeper of the house: τὰ δ’ ἔνδον ὄντα τἀμὰ καὶ σὰ χρήματα χεῖρον διατίθης,
(“The things at home, both my stuff and yours, you are managing them rather badly,” 894-95);
and for neglecting his spousal privileges: τὰ <δὲ> τῆς Ἀφροδίτης ἱέρ’ ἀνοργίαστά σοι |
χρόνον τοσοῦτόν ἐστιν. οὐ βαδιεῖ πάλιν; (“And the holy rites of Aphrodite, you have
neglected them for a long time. Won’t you come home again?” 898-99). Kinesias understands
that Myrrhine is engaged in an inner struggle between her loyalty to the women and her loyalty
him when he directly addresses and chides his competition:
τί ὦ πονήρα ταῦτα ποιεῖς χἀτέραις
πείθει γυναιξί, κἀμέ τ’ ἄχθεσθαι ποεῖς
αὐτή τε λυπεῖ;
(891-93)
Why, you wicked woman, do you do these things and obey the other women, and cause
me grief, and you yourself suffer?
He berates Myrrhine for cooperating with the other women, and he attempts to drive a wedge
between her and the group by pointing out that their plan is making her suffer. He understands
that he can only succeed if he makes her forget the strong feelings of loyalty that she feels
towards the other women. Although her resolve was strong when she was on the acropolis and
surrounded by her companions, Kinesias is almost able to bully her into abandoning her
principles once he has her separated from the group.
The scene between Kinesias and Myrrhine demonstrates the social risk that women are
willing to take for this plan by temporarily upsetting their home life and marital relationships.
The women also take great physical risks in standing up to their husbands, who are used to
controlling the situation through violence or threats. The dialogue of the play repeatedly comes
82
back to the power differential between men and women, highlighting the physical injury that
women risk when dealing with their husbands individually, and the threat of violence that still
lingers even after the women have banded together. Lysistrata explains that the women refrained
from getting involved in the war until the last possible minute because they were afraid of their
husbands. She says that when she first tried to speak up about the way that the men were
handling the war, he husband told her to shut up:
{ΛΥΣΙΣΤΡΑΤΗ} εἶτ’ ἀλγοῦσαι τἄνδοθεν ὑμᾶς ἐπανηρόμεθ’ ἂν γελάσασαι,
“τί βεβούλευται περὶ τῶν σπονδῶν ἐν τῇ στήλῃ παραγράψαι
ἐν τῷ δήμῳ τήμερον ὑμῖν;” “τί δὲ σοὶ ταῦτ’;” ἦ δ’ ὃς ἂν ἁνήρ.
“οὐ σιγήσει;” κἀγὼ ‘σίγων. {ΓΥNH Α} ἀλλ’ οὐκ ἂν ἐγώ ποτ’ ἐσίγων.
{ΠΡΟΒΟΥΛΟΣ} κἂν ᾤμωζές γ’, εἰ μὴ ‘σίγας. {ΛΥ} τοιγὰρ ἔγωγ’ ἔνδον ἐσίγων.
(51216)
{LYSISTRATA} Then, feeling the anguish inside, we would ask with smiles on our
faces, “What did you decide in the assembly today about the addendum to the peace
treaty?” “What’s it to you?” my husband would say, “Won’t you shut up?” And I shut up.
{WOMAN A} I would not have shut up!
{MAGISTRATE} You would have been wailing, if you hadn’t shut up.
{LY} Which is exactly why I did shut up at home.120
Lysistrata and the magistrate agree that if she had not obeyed her husband, she would have
suffered a beating. This threat was enough for Lysistrata, and we can infer for other women, to
keep her objections to herself at first. When things continued to go poorly, however, and the men
continued to not fix them, Lysistrata spoke up again and faced another threat:
{ΛΥΣΙΣΤΡΑΤΗ} ὁ δέ μ’ εὐθὺς ὑποβλέψας <ἂν> ἔφασκ’, εἰ μὴ τὸν στήμονα
νήσω,
ὀτοτύξεσθαι μακρὰ τὴν κεφαλήν· “πόλεμος δ’ ἄνδρεσσι μελήσει.”
{ΠΡΟΒΟΥΛΟΣ} ὀρθῶς γε λέγων νὴ Δί’ ἐκεῖνος.
(51921)
120
This exchange is modeled on the exchange between Hector and Andromache in book 6 of the
Iliad. According to Henderson 1996: 214 n. 111, the allusion “not only evokes the ideal (heroic)
models of husband and wife, but also singles out the one episode in the heroic tradition when a
leader would have done well to heed a woman’s advice.”
83
{LYSISTRATA} And he straightaway glared at me and said, if I didn’t spin my wool, he
would make me wail long and loud over my walloped head. “War is the business of
menfolk,” he said.
{MAGISTRATE} He spoke correctly, by Zeus!
The magistrate confirms that this is an acceptable and even expected exchange between husband
and wife, and that physical threats are a normal part of their interaction.121 Because of the
resistance Lysistrata and the other women encountered when the problem was still small and
fixable, they were unable to act before the situation became dire. In the continuation of her story,
Lysistrata says that they only acted when the population of men had been depleted:
ὄτε δὴ δ’ ὑμῶν ἐν ταῖσιν ὁδοῖς φανερῶς ἠκούομεν ἤδη,
“οὐκ ἔστιν ἀνὴρ ἐν τῇ χώρᾳ;” “μὰ Δί’ οὐ δῆτ’,” <εἶφ’> ἕτερός τις·
μετὰ ταῦθ’ ἡμῖν εὐθὺς ἔδοξεν σῶσαι τὴν Ἑλλάδα κοινῇ
ταῖσι γυναιξὶν συλλεχθείσαις. ποῖ γὰρ καὶ χρῆν ἀναμεῖναι;
(523-26)
But then by this time we could hear you openly into the streets saying, “Isn’t there a man
left in the land?” “By Zeus, there is not!” another would say; after that we immediately
realized that it was up to us to save Greece, all of the women working together in
common. What was the point of waiting any longer?
Her statement suggests that women overcame their fear of abuse only out of necessity, because
they could no longer tolerate the high number of war casualties. But note also that it is only after
the ranks of men have dwindled that the women are able to stand up to them. They literally wait
until massive casualties have weakened the opposition before they enact their plan.
With this background to the conflict between the sexes, we can appreciate the full-scale
war on the acropolis, in which we see the same violent tendencies on a larger scale, perpetrated
by all of the men against all of the women. The men’s chorus launches an assault against the
women’s barricade.122 Their spokesman, the koryphaios, demonstrates that they are angry at the
121
See McClure 1999: 19-24 on how brazen it was for a woman to say such things in public.
There is a strong fifth-century literary tradition portraying respectable Athenian women as silent
in public.
122
The women enact two plans in this play: the sex-strike, and the seizing of the acropolis. For
an explanation of how the two are related through the theme of domesticity, see Vaio 1973.
84
women’s display of power, and he believes that the appropriate response to this anger is to kill
them:
ἀλλ’ ὡς τάχιστα πρὸς πόλιν σπεύσωμεν ὦ Φιλοῦργε,
ὅπως ἂν, αὐταῖς ἐν κύκλῳ θέντες τὰ πρέμνα ταυτί,
ὅσαι τὸ πρᾶγμα τοῦτ’ ἐνεστήσαντο καὶ μετῆλθον,
μίαν πυρὰν νήσαντες ἐμπρήσωμεν αὐτόχειρες
πάσας, ἀπὸ ψήφου μιᾶς, πρώτην δὲ τὴν Λύκωνος.
(266-70)
But let us go to the city as quickly as possible, Philourgos, so that, once we have laid
these logs in a circle around all those women who have fomented and pursued this plan,
we can pile up one big pyre and burn them all with our hands, by a single ballot, starting
with the wife of Lykon!123
The men’s chorus follows, meticulously laying logs and setting a fire around the acropolis (286305). In talking about the plan to burn the women, they switch from language of a private anger,
seen above, to language of warfare: public and impersonal. The koryphaios talks of “storming
the gates like a ram” (ἐς τὴν θύραν κριηδὸν ἐμπέσοιμεν, 309), “Mistress Victory” (δέσπινα
Νίκη, 317), and a “trophy” (τροπαῖον, 318). Again they threaten the women:
κἂν μὴ καλούντων τοὺς μοχλοὺς χαλῶσιν αἱ γυναῖκες,
ἐμπιμπράναι χρὴ τὰς θύρας καὶ τῷ καπνῷ πιέζειν.
(310-11)
And if the women don’t unbar the gates when we ask, we will have to set fire to the doors
and smoke them out!
In the reported conversation between Lysistrata and her husband, the magistrate felt violence was
justified because that was the acceptable form of a husband and wife relationship. In this scene,
the koryphaios justifies his threats of violence by phrasing the conflict in terms of warfare: to kill
a fellow Athenian might be a crime, but to kill a military enemy is morally and socially
sanctioned. Whether at home or in this war of the sexes, the women live with the expectation of
physical harm if they fail to abide by the men’s wishes.
123
Henderson 1996: 212 n. 73 says that the men assume that the leader of the rebellion must be
Lykon’s wife because she had a reputation for being socially disruptive.
85
In this play, however, the constant threat of harm causes the women to pledge their
support for each other all the more zealously. When first describing the plan, Lysistrata fields a
concern from Kalonike, who worries that the men will retaliate. Lysistrata replies:
ὀλίγον αὐτῶν μοι μέλει.
οὐ γὰρ τοσαύτας οὔτ’ ἀπειλὰς οὔτε πῦρ
ἥξουσ’ ἔχοντες ὥστ’ ἀνοῖξαι τὰς πύλας
ταύτας, ἐὰν μὴ ‘φ’ οἷσιν ἡμεῖς εἴπομεν.
(248-51)
They do not concern me one bit. They can’t come at us with enough threats or fire to get
these doors open unless it happens on our terms.
Kalonike replies, suddenly emboldened, μὰ τὴν Ἀφροδίτην οὐδέποτέ γ’ (“By Aphrodite, they
cannot!” 252). When the women realize that the men are trying to burn their fortifications, the
koryphaia rallies them with, σπευστέον ἐστὶ θᾶττον (“We must hurry, faster!” 320), and the
female chorus responds with promises to help their friends:
ἀλλὰ φοβοῦμαι τόδε, μῶν ὑστερόπους βοηθῶ.
…
…ταῖσιν ἐμαῖς
δημότισιν καομέναις
φέρουσ’ ὕδωρ βοηθῶ.
326
332
334
333
But I’m sick with dread at this, surely I’m not to late to help (326). … carrying water, I’m
here to help my roasting demeswomen! (332-34)
The chorus acknowledges that its involvement is specifically in response to the men’s threat:
when they hear the men say, ὡς πυρὶ χρὴ τὰς μυσαρὰς γυναῖκας ἀνθρακεύειν (“We must
burn these foul women to charcoal!” 340), they respond that they must rescue (ῤυσαμένας, 342)
Greece and its citizens, and they invite Athena to be their ally (ξύμμαχον, 346).124 Recognition
of the threat strengthens the women’s resolve, and they are willing to undergo an increased and
prolonged danger for each other. Reinforcements show up, as described by the koryphaios:
τουτὶ τὸ πρᾶγμ’ ἡμῖν ἰδεῖν ἀπροσδόκητον ἥκει·
ἑσμὸς γυναικῶν οὑτοσὶ θύρασιν αὖ βοηθεῖ.
124
(352-53)
On the heroic portrayal of the chorus of older women, see Henderson 1987b: 108, 111-14 and
Faraone 2006: 211-14.
86
This problem has arisen, one we never expected to see: a throng of women has arrived at
the gates to help the others!
These women choose to join the fray rather than remain safely uninvolved. The old women
participate in their own way: although they are not engaging in the sex strike (they are described
as the “old hag” stock type, and so widowed or unmarried) they join the battle (456-61). They
are willing to put themselves in harm’s way for the other women, even though they themselves
do not have any husbands that they are hoping to bring home from the war.125
The women not only band together in response to a threat, they are actually strong
enough to become the aggressors. As Lysistrata relates the story of how she stood up to her
husband, we see her gaining self-confidence. I pick up this scene where we left off:
{ΛΥΣΙΣΤΡΑΤΗ} ἢν οὖν ἡμῶν χρηστὰ λεγουσῶν ἐθελήσητ’ ἀντακροᾶσθαι
κἀντισιωπᾶθ ὥσπερ χἠμεῖς, ἐπανορθώσαιμεν ἂν ὑμᾶς.
{ΠΡΟΒΟΥΛΟΣ} ὑμεῖς ἡμᾶς; δεινόν γε λέγεις κοὐ τλητὸν ἔμοιγε. {ΛΥ} σιώπα.
{ΠΡ.} σοί γ’ ὦ κατάρατε σιωπῶ ‘γώ, καὶ ταῦτα κάλυμμα φορούσῃ 530
περὶ τὴν κεφαλήν; μή νυν ζῴην. {ΛΥ} ἀλλ’ εἰ τοῦτ’ ἐμπόδιόν σοι,
παρ’ ἐμοῦ τουτὶ τὸ κάλυμμα λαβὼν
ἔχε καὶ περίθου περὶ τὴν κεφαλήν,
κᾆτα σιώπα
καὶ τουτον τὸν καλαθίσκον.
535
κᾆτα ξαίνειν ξυζωσάμενος
κυάμους τρώγων·
πόλεμος δὲ γυναιξὶ μελήσει.
(527-38)
{LYSISTRATA} … So if you are willing to listen to us in turn as we give you good
advice, and shut up in turn as we once shut up, then we will fix things.
{MAGISTRATE} You give us advice? You are saying outrageous things and I won’t put
up with it.
{LY} Shut up!
{MA} I shut up for you? You cursed woman, and with a veil over your head no less! I
would rather die!
{LY} But if this bothers you, take my veil and keep it and put it on over your head, and
then shut up! And take this little wool basket! Hitch up your skirt and start carding wool!
And chew some beans while you work! War shall be the business of womenfolk!
125
Bowie 1993: 190 gives mythical and religious parallels for the ritual activities of the women
in this play, arguing that the activities of the old women parallel the ritual of Demeter at
Hermione: the uncommon participation of old women in sacrifices on behalf of the city marks an
unusual time and situation.
87
A woman who was once told to shut up is now commanding the magistrate to shut up himself.
She suggests that the magistrate take up the physical markers of oppression: the veil and the
wool working.126 She speaks with authority when she tells him that the women have taken over
the responsibility for the most traditionally male sphere: war. Their unity gives the women the
strength to stand up to the men in spite of their physical inferiority. The men’s and women’s
choruses taunt each other throughout the play, something which the women would not be able to
do individually, but as a group they become a formidable opponent to the men.
Unable to defeat the unified women, delegates from Athens and Sparta agree to meet
with Lysistrata. Konstan notes that Lysistrata is a suitable candidate to reconcile the men of
enemy poleis because she has already achieved a similar feat with the women. He says, “It is
women as a group who are capable of transcending factional and national differences and acting
in concert against the war.”127 Lysistrata uses the same tactics to unify the men: she appeals to
common suffering and past cooperation to bring the Spartan and Athenians together, pointing out
that both parties have suffered the devastating effects of war in the past, and on multiple
occasions each city came to the rescue of the other (1137-56). Both sides capitulate, but largely
because of the shared current suffering: lack of sex. Lysistrata announces that the men will
cement their unity with an oath (1185), just as the women did. The solidarity among women has
served its purpose of ending the war and improving the quality of women’s daily lives at home.
This is illustrated at the end of the play when pairs of husbands and wives are directed to stand
side by side, and the Athenian delegate exhorts his fellow men not to make the same mistake
126
Taaffe 1993: 64-66 argues that, because a man can so easily become a woman with a few
visual signifiers, this passage shows that woman is a thing constructed by men. This scene calls
attention to the fact that male actors construct female roles in a similar manner.
127
Konstan 1993: 441-42.
88
again (1273-78), that is, not to neglect the affairs of marriage, the home, and women. A modern
feminist might hope for a revision to the system that led so easily to the marital violence I
described above, but the ancient audience had no such expectation. The koryphaia proposes such
a revision when she asks the koryphaios why they cannot have a lasting friendship, but he
replies, ὡς ἐγὼ μισῶν γυναῖκας οὐδέποτε παύσομαι (“Because I’ll never stop hating
women!” 1018). Bowie points out the irony of the situation: “The women bring about the peace
they have so desired, but ironically what they also achieve is the restoration of that male control
of the two areas of sexuality and politics which caused all their problems in the first place.”128
The women of this play achieve power over the public discourse about the war, a topic
ordinarily in the purview of men, by drawing enough strength from each other to physically
oppose the men. Like revolutionaries meeting in dark basements away from the prying ears of
authorities, they slowly amass enough group confidence to take on the establishment. This
“revolution” includes all of the standard figures: instigators, tactical advisers, bold women ready
to join the cause when asked, cautious women who think of personal safety first, and eloquent
speakers who can rouse a crowd to action. Through mere talk the movement expands from one
female visionary to the entire gendered group, and Aristophanes has scripted the deliberation,
cajoling, demagoguery, and decision-making processes that accompany this expansion. By
working together, the women are able to co-opt some of the power traditionally assigned to men,
to the extent that they become the physical aggressors. The unification of the women has served
its purpose: by ending the war, they end the disruptions to women’s lives. While they were
powerless to affect change as individuals, by combining their voices they win themselves a seat
at the table. Aristophanes draws attention to the unusualness of their situation: typically women’s
128
Bowie 1993: 202.
89
silence is guaranteed by a patriarchy that keeps them fragmented, unable to compare notes with
other women on a large scale, and in fear of physical abuse if they object to the way men run
things. Aristophanes turns the conventional literary depiction on its head, exploring with wit and
cleverness how women might overcome these obstacles and, if given a public voice, what they
might say.
C. Ecclesiazusae: Women, Men, and the Public Discourse about Government
I end this chapter with the Ecclesiazusae because in it the notion of collective behavior is
taken to the extreme when the women of this play set up a communist state in which every
individual, regardless of gender, is expected to act for the good of the whole.129 In the opening
scenes, the women of this play exhibit the same kind of solidarity that we saw among the women
of Lysistrata. Their cohesion is necessary because they have a common enemy – men – and their
cooperation with each other provides them with the strength they need to disenfranchise that
enemy. But their solidarity by gender is only temporary, directed at the goal of setting up the
new government.130 Once the change has taken place, both women and men act as one would
expect members of a communist state to act: the solidarity is among all cooperating members of
the polis, whether male or female. The resisters resist out of selfishness, a trait that supersedes
gender.
The cooperation among women in Lysistrata depended on a sense of equality, the kind
that, in theory, would be at the heart of a communist state. In Ecclesiazusae, however,
Praxagora’s character is definitively given a position of social superiority because the women
129
Aristophanes was not the only author creating literary depictions of women in government.
For a summary of contemporary works on the subject, including Plato’s Republic, see Henderson
1996: 144.
130
Foley 1982: 14 notes that in all three plays the women intrude into the public sphere – the
male domain – with a specific goal, but unlike the women of the Thesmophoriazusae and
Lysistrata, the women of the Ecclesiazusae intend for their intrusion to be permanent.
90
recognize that such a leader is required to achieve their ultimate goal. The figures of Praxagora
and Lysistrata have opposite experiences: Lysistrata has a novel idea which she tries to
implement amongst the group, but the other women use chiding words to keep her from
assuming a position of privilege over her peers. In the Ecclesiazusae, however, the women seem
to be looking for someone to take up a position of authority, and in turn are happy to give
Praxagora the privileges that go along with this position of authority. The women came up with
the novel idea collectively, and Praxagora emerges as a leader as the result of her superior
skills.131 When she gives a mock speech to the assembled women (192-240), they are so
impressed by her oratorical prowess that they elect her as general in charge of enacting the plan
(245-47). The offer of such a coveted prize is a far cry from Lysistrata’s previous experience, in
which she was forbidden even to drink more than her share of wine (Lys. 238-39). When
Praxagora calls attention to her superior status, none of the women objects: she offers to use all
of the women as counselors (συμβούλοισιν, 518) when she is elected to office, and the rest of
the women accept this without comment. In Lysistrata’s community, such behavior would have
been looked upon as elitist and inappropriate and would have damaged Praxagora’s relationship
with the other women. The female communities in Lysistrata and Thesmophoriazusae did not
tolerate an individual who attempts to stand out from the crowd, but Praxagora’s community
longs for a leader. This is perhaps because in the Ecclesiazusae, Aristophanes deliberately
models the women’s interaction on male customs regarding government and public discourse.
Before and after the communist state is established, Praxagora is the only woman with an
individual identity, which conflicts with the call for egalitarianism, but again is in service to the
cause. She is the only named woman, while the others are known only as generic types like
131
Henderson 1996: 145.
91
κηρύκαινα, γύνη, θεράπαινα, and γραῦς. She is also the only woman with social identifiers
that situate her within the community: she is the wife of Blepyrus, and the mistress of the one of
the two houses that appears on stage. This is the opposite of Lysistrata, who was the only woman
whose husband, children, and residence were completely absent or only vaguely referenced,
allowing the audience to see her as a generic spokesperson for the female viewpoint. Praxagora’s
unusual position continues after the establishment of the communist state, in which she is the
only one who stands apart from the crowd of equals. As the newly elected leader, she must see to
her duties of overseeing the agora, finding a herald, and organizing the first communal dinner
(711-16). Meanwhile, the others concern themselves only with adopting the communist lifestyle:
they donate their belongings to the common store (730-45), partake of the feast (834-52), and
argue about the new policy of equal sexual access (877-1111). Until the final scene with
Blepyrus, in which he emerges as a second distinct personality, Praxagora is conspicuous as an
individual while the rest of the characters are stock types with generic identities, included to
show us the comedic effects of the new system of government.
Much attention has been paid to gender bending, in this play and in the other plays of
Aristophanes, but I would like to address the idea of sexual difference in the Ecclesiazusae: the
women of this play remain essentially women in spite of the fact that they attempt to imitate
men. While Taaffe argues that, for their plan to work, the women need to become men but are
not able to, I argue that the women want not to become men, and so they succeed in their
endeavor to retain their essential female nature.132 The plot requires that the women, played of
course by male actors, impersonate men in order to vote control of the city over to the women. In
preparation for the assembly, the women imitate men by adopting men’s visual signifiers –
132
Taaffe 1991: 100-2.
92
clothes, armpit hair, tanned skin – and practicing men’s speech mannerisms. Taaffe catalogues
all of the ways in which the women fall short of their goal: Woman A is visually contradictory
because, although dressed as a man, she brings her wool working to the assembly (88-89), and
Woman B remarks that their beards look incongruous (125). The women are aware of the
potential seriousness of their inability to truly become men, as Woman B says: καὶ πῶς
γυναικῶν θηλύφρων ξυνουσία | δημηγορήσει; (“And how can the female-minded
congregation of women speak at the assembly?” 110-11). She understands that, although they
look like men, they retain the disposition and mindset of women. Taaffe makes a connection
between gender and power and argues that the success of the women depends on their ability to
imitate men, which only Praxagora achieves with any believability. Their failure to carry off the
imitation with consistency, she argues, results ultimately in their failure to govern the city. As I
see it, however, the women’s success depends on the fact that their essential nature is different
from men’s: they do not want to fully become men, because the plan relies upon the differences
between the sexes. When Woman A calls attention to these differences, Praxagora explains how
they will work to their advantage. First, Praxagora takes a quality that is conventionally viewed
negatively and gives it a positive spin. She says:
λέγουσι γὰρ καὶ τῶν νεανίσκων ὅσοι
πλεῖστα σποδοῦνται, δεινοτάτους εἶναι λέγειν·
ἡμῖν δ’ ὑπάρχει τοῦτο κατὰ τύχην τινά.
(112-14)
They say that the young men who get reamed the most, they are the ones that are most
cunning at speaking. As luck would have it, this is exactly what suits us!
Women’s sexual passivity might set them apart from real men, but in this instance it is a trait
shared with politically inclined, up-and-coming orators, and so will work in their favor. They are
different from adult men in this respect, but this difference will be crucial to the success of the
plan because it will help them be better public speakers. Praxagora seems to delight in being
93
sexually dominated and to subscribe to the belief that woman is submissive by nature. This is a
blatant comic stereotype, but Aristophanes has turned it into an asset within the fictional plot.
The stereotype of gabbing is similarly given a positive angle when Praxagora explains that they
must practice their speeches in order to appear as accomplished orators, but this practice should
come easily to the women because they are naturally endowed with the gift of gab, and Woman
A agrees (118-20). Women’s proclivity for talking will ultimately help them achieve their goal
of convincing the men to vote control of the city over to the women. Praxagora plans to unite
their individual and private voices, direct them towards a common and public cause, and thereby
deprive the men of their civic voice.
The things that make women different from men have been important in phase one of the
plan, convincing the men to transfer power to them. These traits will also be important in phase
two of the plan, in which the women reorganize the government. The men have governed the city
poorly because of their distinctly male ways, but the women will succeed where they failed
because of their distinctly female ways. In her practice speech, Praxagora explains that the city
would be better off if run by women because women have superior character:
ὡς δ’ εἰσὶν ἡμῶν τοὺς τρόπους βελτίονες
ἐγὼ διδάξω. πρῶτα μὲν γὰρ τἄρια
βάπτουσι θερμῷ κατὰ τὸν ἀρχαῖον νόμον
ἁπαξάπασαι, κοὐχὶ μεταπειρωμένας
ἴδοις ἂν αὐτάς. ἡ δ’ Ἀθηναίων πόλις,
εἰ τοῦτο χρηστῶς εἶχεν, οὐκ ἂν ἐσῴζετο,
εἰ μή τι καινὸν ἄλλο περιηργάζετο.
καθήμεναι φρύγουσιν ὥσπερ καὶ πρὸ τοῦ·
ἐπὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς φέρουσιν ὥσπερ καὶ πρὸ τοῦ·
215
220
(214-22)
I will demonstrate how [women] are superior to us in character. First, they dye their wool
in hot water according to the ancient customs, each and every one of them, and you won’t
see them trying anything new. But the state of the Athenians, if things worked well,
would not keep things as is, unless there was nothing new to expend their energy on. But
they sit while roasting food, just as they always have; and they carry things on their head,
just as they always have;
94
The list continues with other things that women do in the same fashion that they always have
done. She calls attention to the conservative nature of women’s character: that they do not
change their ways but rely on time-tested traditions is viewed as a strength. Their traditional
nature will be an asset when they take over control of the city, and so they will succeed where
men have failed precisely because of their gendered differences. Praxagora, disguised as a man
and addressing the assembly, calls for the men to hand over the government of the city without
hesitation:
ταύταισιν οὖν ὦνδρες παραδόντες τὴν πόλιν
μὴ περιλαλῶμεν, μηδὲ πυνθανώμεθα
τί ποτ’ ἄρα δρᾶν μέλλουσιν, ἀλλ’ ἁπλῷ τρόπῳ
ἐῶμεν ἄρχειν, …
(229-32)
And so, men, let us hand over the city to [the women] and not prattle on about the matter
nor inquire what they plan to do in the future, but let’s allow them to rule in their simple
way…
The men are not supposed to ask how the women plan to rule, nor even stop to discuss the
possible consequences. She asks them to simply use their civic power to surrender civic power,
since there is no place for the men in the transition to the new form of government. Once the
proposal has passed, Praxagora asks the women to quickly shed their masculine markers:
ταυτὶ μὲν ἡμῖν ὦ γυναῖκες εὐτυχῶς
τὰ πράγματ’ ἐκβέβηκεν ἁβουλεύσαμεν.
ἀλλ’ ὡς τάχιστα πρίν τιν’ ἀνθρώπων ἰδεῖν,
ῥιπτεῖτε χλαίνας, ἐμβὰς ἐκποδὼν ἴτω,
χάλα συναπτοὺς ἡνίας Λακωνικάς,
βακτηρίας ἄφεσθε.
(504-9)
Ladies, the things that we devised have fortunately come to pass. But, as quickly as
possible, before anyone sees, cast off your cloaks, and get rid of those shoes – undo the
fastened Laconian reins – and throw away your walking sticks.
For the plan to work, the women are supposed to be women, not women acting like men. They
only needed to impersonate men for the first part of the plan, the part that involved using
oratorical skills to sway the vote of the assembly. The assembly is a man’s arena, and oratory is a
95
man’s skill, or, as Praxagora pointed out, an effeminate man’s skill. If we view gender as a
continuum rather than two discrete categories, the women merely had to slide a little further
towards “male” on the scale, in order to appropriate enough masculinity to be granted an
audience in the assembly, but to retain enough femininity to be persuasive with speech, a weapon
traditionally belonging to women and effeminate men.133
For the second part of the plan, the women no longer desire to impersonate men because
the men’s theories of governing the polis have failed. Instead, they intend to govern the city in a
distinctly non-male way, relying on very different principles. The women’s theory of governance
involves the same principles of local networking discussed in Chapter 2. Since polis is a network
of individuals, albeit a very large one, the women attempt to organize the polis in the same way
that they have organized their personal, smaller networks. Praxagora indicates that in the new
state, everyone will share land, money and possessions (590-94, 597-98), just as women share
their own possessions with their female friends (446-50). The women will be stewards of the
common fund:
εἶτ’ ἀπὸ τούτων κοινῶν ὄντων ἡμεῖς βοσκήσομεν ὑμᾶς
ταμιευόμεναι καὶ φειδόμεναι καὶ τὴν γνώμην προσέχουσαι.
(599-600)
We will feed you from the common store, dispersing and withholding things according to
good judgment.
The women will be responsible for managing the resources of the state just as they have been
responsible for managing the resources of their households; and they will hold the primary
responsibility for making sure that their men are taken care of with those resources, just as they
have in the past on a smaller scale. Praxagora plans to build up this new, polis-wide network in
the same way that one builds up a local network. She announces:
133
Belonging to women: McClure 1999: 62-68. Belonging to effeminate men: see Praxagora’s
earlier joke about buggered boys making the best orators.
96
τὸ γὰρ ἄστυ
μίαν οἴκησίν φημι ποιήσειν συρρήξασ’ εἰς ἓν ἅπαντα,
ὥστε βαδίζειν ὡς ἀλλήλους.
(673-
75)
For I say that I will make the city one household by smashing down all the walls to make
one property, so that everyone can walk into each other’s space.
Praxagora will extend the common network by tearing down the walls between houses, just as
Demea of the Adelphoe extended the personal network of two households by tearing down the
wall that separated their properties (906-10). The communist state that Praxagora sets up mirrors
the organization of women’s localized social circles, and Praxagora intends that the new state
operate in much the same way as the smaller networks to which she is accustomed.
Once the communist state is in effect, there is a great deal of resistance to the ideal of
unity. Taaffe has argued that Praxagora’s polis is a failure: the selfish man refuses to turn over
his goods to the common store, the new rules for sexual equality turn out to be a disaster, and the
audience is invited to a feast, but not the common feast – they must go home and prepare their
own meals.134 Furthermore, the women, who presented a united voice before Praxagora’s decree
precisely because they had been denied a public voice, become fragmented after achieving a
place in the public arena. Competition between women, in this case sexual competition, threatens
the cohesion of the community just like the pre-communist polis was threatened by competition
between men over money and power.135 The end result, as the audience can see, is that this
experiment with communism has not succeeded: all parties do not get free food, endless sex, and
an equal share of goods. The women chose to organize the city in the only way they knew how,
but they encountered similar problems to the ones experienced in the male-run city. The
principles upon which their local friendship networks were based are not sustainable in a large134
135
Taaffe 1991: 105.
O’Higgins 2003: 171.
97
scale polis. Foley connects the comic failure to the women’s attempt to impose household
management principles to the larger scale polis:
Communism, for example, is made to seem absurd because … a state cannot operate on
the same terms of shared interest and informal negotiations as the household. At the same
time, if oikos and polis were institutions defined simply by their radical opposition to
each other, the plot of the Ecclesiazusae would have considerably less satiric force.136
The women’s attempt at reorganizing the government failed because they retained their essential
femininity, even though they thought this trait would be the secret of their success.137
Note, however, that the starting point for the play is the observation that the men’s
system for organizing government is also a failure. The government was ineffective when the
men denied the women a public voice, but it was also ineffective when the women denied men a
public voice. According to Shaw, Aristophanes uses the play to show that the current failings of
the polis are due to overly masculine principles (e.g., greed and innovation), but a government
based only on feminine virtues would fail, too. The message of the play, then, is to gently remind
the audience of feminine strengths, such as social cooperation, so that the men of Athens will
incorporate the assets of both genders in their governance of the polis. Shaw says, “It serves the
highest good of society for the members of society to be fully human, but the very operation of
society erodes the character of its members.”138
D. Conclusion: Gender and Public Voice in Aristophanes
In each of these three plays, Aristophanes has presented a situation in which, through
ineptitude or deliberate malice, men have negatively impacted the daily lives of women. Such
women would traditionally be powerless in such circumstances, since they are denied a public
136
Foley 1982: 16.
Foley 1982: 5 notes that, in the Ecclesiazusae, female intrusion into the political sphere
threatens the traditional balance as much as the male failures that provoked their intrusion, while
female intrusion in Lysistrata results in peace and a restoration of balance.
138
Shaw 1975: 266.
137
98
voice by a society that keeps them fragmented. However, Aristophanes stages a revolution in
which the women first overcome the social conventions that keep them from assembling en
masse to discuss common concerns and voice discontent over the status quo; then they combine
their voices in such a way that they can affect the public discourse, achieving together what they
could not achieve alone. They are only able to do so when they present a united front, ignoring
their individual needs and privileging a social agenda that is for the betterment of the gendered
group. Female relationships are a major theme of the plays: their marginalization leads to their
solidarity,139 and the playwright highlights that they relate to each other and to men in a
specifically female way. Konstan summarizes: “The women offer a different model of social
relations, both domestic and international, a model which, viewed from the perspective of
masculine codes of differentiation, appears transgressive. The women, in a word, act as a
body,”140 representing an alternative order based on social solidarity. These are but three of
Aristophanes’ extant plays, and they have earned the name “women plays” among scholars
because their focus on women is so marked: while female characters comprise most of the stage
time in these three plays, they are barely present in Aristophanes’ remaining works. In contrast,
many New Comedies show communities of women interacting along side of communities of
men.
139
Konstan 1993: 442 says of the women in Lysistrata, “Their solidarity is a function of their
marginalization with respect to the power structure of the city-state,” but the sentiment applies to
all three plays.
140
Konstan 1993: 442.
99
Chapter 4. Solidarity by Class: Relationships between Courtesans
For the remainder of the dissertation we turn to New Comedy, in which relationships
between women take on a very different characterization. The presentation of women’s
relationships in Old Comedy was political and broadly social, but that of New Comedy is more
focused and personal. The authors of New Comedy examine one or two households and the
relationships between key figures. They may present the relationship between a woman and one
or two of her close friends, and the concerns of these women usually revolve around their own
needs or that of their friends and families, rather than the entire polis, as in Aristophanes. This
chapter focuses on relationships between courtesans (Greek hetairai and Latin meretrices) in
Menander, Plautus, and Terence. As with the previous chapter, I ask what social risks they are
willing to take for each other, what decisions they must make in the process, and what social and
emotional factors influence those decisions. Through accident of preservation, there is no good
surviving example of relationships between courtesans in Menander, although there are extensive
clues. I will briefly examine the evidence from Menander’s Dis Exapaton and Synaristosai
before evaluating the relationship of sisters of Plautus’ Bacchides, a mother and a daughter in
Plautus’ Asinaria, two mother-daughter pairs in Plautus’s Cistellaria, and Thais and her fostersister in Terence’s Eunuch.
Although there are many references to prostitutes in Aristophanes, they rarely speak, and
when they are shown, it is for their relationship to men, not to each other: Aristophanes includes
a prostitute to indicate that a public figure has been corrupted by excessive desire, or he presents
them as objects of men’s desire.141 Prostitutes in Aristophanes are usually referred to as pornai,
141
For a survey of the literary treatment of prostitutes in Aristophanes, see Henry 1985: 18-31.
For the literary treatment of prostitutes before Aristophanes, see Henry 1985: 6-18 and Henry
2011.
100
and the word hetaira appears only twice (Peace 439-40, Thesm. 346).142 As literary figures,
hetairai and pseudo-hetairai (the term conventionally used by scholars to designate citizen
foundlings who are raised by hetairai) are introduced in Middle Comedy, where there is a new
focus on hetairai as individuals who act as independent agents with the power to enchant men.143
New Comedy increasingly depicts domestic plots which have threats to the social order of the
oikos as a major theme, and for that reason hetairai and pseudo-hetairai become more
prevalent.144 These courtesans, unlike those of Aristophanes and Middle Comedy, show selfawareness by discussing their trade, and might be portrayed in a sympathetic light, with hetairai
shown as self-sacrificing victims and pseudo-hetairai as pawns.145 Henry credits Menander with
changing the characterization of the hetaira so that she is “heroic and vital to the plot:” while the
male characters view her through cultural prejudices, “each woman transcends her status and
prejudices against it with an act of valor.”146 Henry concludes that each of Menander’s
courtesans “proves to be the moral superior of her detractors,” and Zeitlin shows that Terence
adopts this positive characterization.147
In this chapter I hope to show that Menander, Plautus, and Terence, the New Comic
authors from whom we have the most material (presumably because they were the most
successful), create more interesting characters by portraying the human side of courtesans.
142
For the distinction (or lack thereof) between porne and hetaira in Greek culture and literature,
see Cohen 2006: 97-98 and Glazebrook and Henry 2011: 4-8. See Kapparis 2011 for an
extensive survey of terminology for prostitution in Greek literature.
143
Dover 1968: 147-48; Henry 1985: 36.
144
Henry 1985: 43-46 notes that many surviving titles of lost New Comedies refer to hetairai
and pseudo-hetairai: Philemon’s Aneneuomene, Gamos, Euripos, Korinthia, Mystis, Neaira,
Panegyris, and Ptoche/Rhodia; Diphilus’s Apoleipousa, Leukadia, Lemniai, Pallakis, and
Pyrrha; and Apollodorus’ Apoleipousa, Ennaia, Lakaina, Paidion, and Sphattomene.
145
Henry 1985: 48.
146
Henry 1985: 48 and 51.
147
Henry 1985: 110; Zeitlin 1998.
101
Rather than identifying these women purely by their profession – prostitution – the playwrights
identify them as sisters, daughters, mothers, and friends. However, their social position remains a
factor in their relationships with each other, for which reason I provide a brief background to
Greek and Roman prostitution here.
Historical Greek and Roman prostitutes might be slaves, who are forced by their masters
to sell themselves; freedwomen, who often served as prostitutes before their manumission and
for whom this is the most viable source of income once they are free; or metics and citizens, who
are forced into the trade by poverty and an economy that provides few job opportunities for
women.148 Middle and New Comic literary tradition focuses predominantly on the free hetairai,
rather than enslaved brothel-dwellers.149 These women run a business out of their oikoi and
operate much like any other self-employed Greek: they can turn down customers and bar the
gates to outsiders, but ultimately they need to accept enough customers to make a living.150 Their
extensive use of detailed contracts, as seen in Asinaria (751-808), reflects their desire to avoid
the appearance of slavishness: the contract indicates that both parties have control in the
relationship, and both are free to leave, with penalties.151 For courtesans, the opportunities for
financial stability are rather limited, which often forces them to consider their relationships from
a business standpoint rather than an emotional one. Scholars refer to a mercenary motive,
arguing that some New Comedy courtesans make decisions based solely on desire for money.152
This somewhat negative moral judgment overlooks the fact that courtesans are often forced to
consider money above all else in their relationships out of economic necessity, not greed.
148
149
150
151
152
McGinn 2004: 59-61; Cohen 2006: 101. See Fantham 1975: 49-50 on metics in particular.
Cohen 2006: 102.
Fantham 1975: 50-51; Cohen 2006: 112.
Cohen 2006: 109-112.
Duckworth 1994: 259; Konstan 1983: 147; Crisafulli 1998: 224-25.
102
The Middle and New Comedians presumably inherited a variety of conventions from
earlier drama, both Attic tragedy and Old Comedy, but Menander, Plautus, and Terence were
particularly skilled at presenting these common themes in new and creative ways. Zagagi argues
that such creativity was Menander’s way of trying to prove his superiority to his predecessors,
and his particular skill with this kind of innovation contributed greatly to his success.153
Frequently Menander created characters that did not adhere to the stereotypes, such as soldiers
who were not boastful and hetairai who were not greedy.154 In one of his famously
metatheatrical prologues, Terence references the difficulty of creating something new in a genre
that depends so heavily on conventions. He defends himself against charges of contaminatio by
claiming that all comics have access to the same personae, including the meretrix mala (Eun. 3741), who wants nothing more than to deceive her lovers and drain their pocketbooks. But
Terence’s meretrices were not bound by these conventions: Donatus says that Terence dared to
make socrus bonas (“good mothers-in-law”) and meretrices honesti cupidas (“courtesans
desirous of virtue”).155 Likewise, Plautus himself boasts that his Captivi will be an unusual play
because it does not contain any of the expected characters, including the periurus leno, the miles
gloriosus, and the meretrix mala (57-58). Plutarch attempts to describe the complexity with
which Menander treats the hetaira stock type, saying that, in his love plots, Menander presents
two categories of hetairai: those who are ἰταμαὶ καὶ θρασεῖαι (forward and bold), and those
153
Zagagi 1994: 19-45.
Handley 1970: 4; Zagagi 1994: 29.
155
Donatus ad Hec. 774: Multa Terentius feliciter ausus est arte fretus, nam et socrus bonas et
meretrices honesti cupidas praeter quam pervulgatum est facit. sed tanta vigilantia causarum et
rationum momenta subiungit, ut ei soli merito videatur totum licere. nam hoc contra illud est,
quod alibi (Eun. 37) ait, commune iam esse omnibus comicis ‘bonas matronas facere meretrices
malas.’ Text from Wessner 1902: 330.
154
103
who are χρησταὶ καὶ ἀντέρωσαι (good and loving-in-return).156 This passage has led many to
try to place the courtesans of Menander, or those of Roman plays adapted from Menander, into
one of these two categories, although many scholars reject this as an oversimplification of
Menander’s characters.157
Gilula challenges Plutarch’s schema altogether, arguing that all courtesans are “bad” by
design, since good and bad are moral terms defined by the desires of citizen males: the men want
free love, but the social position of courtesans necessitate that they charge a fee for their
services.158 Knorr follows this view that morality is in the eye of the beholder when he argues
that Bacchis of the Heautontimoroumenos is “good” in her actions (as written by Terence) but
perceived as and described as “bad” by the other male characters of the play.159 He concludes
that Plutarch’s categories of mala and bona “do not so much indicate moral qualities as
categories defined by the economic needs of their male paying customers. Accordingly, a hetaira
is ‘good’ when she loves her customer in return and ‘bad’ when she drives a hard bargain.”160
Accordingly, Gruen and Fantham reject the dichotomy: Gruen creates a new term, mixta
meretrix, for a meretrix who partakes of the characteristics of both the bona and mala. Fantham
demonstrates that Terence mixes characteristics of good and bad to create suspense regarding a
courtesan’s character and anticipated actions.161 I agree wholeheartedly with the interpretations
of Gilula and Knorr: the courtesans in extant New Comedy are interesting precisely because they
are not easily categorized as bona or mala, but instead are complex individuals.
156
Quaestiones Convivales 7.8.712C.
Those who accept the system include Anderson 1984 and Zeitlin 2005. Those who reject it
include Brown 1990 and Gilula 1980.
158
Gilula 1980: 143, 145.
159
Knorr 1995: 231.
160
Knorr 1995: 222.
161
Gruen 1991: 1 and Fantham 2004: 287.
157
104
The very question of whether a hetaira or meretrix is good or bad privileges the
perspective of the citizen men in the plays and is therefore of limited value. Such a dichotomy
oversimplifies a woman’s motives, and more significantly, assesses her motives from the wrong
perspective. I therefore suggest a new direction by analyzing the women’s behavior in
relationship to each other, rather than just their relationships to their suitors. This chapter looks at
the factors in play in a courtesan’s relationship with other courtesans, which includes but is not
limited to her need for income and her possible affection for a male lover. Mutual financial need
may foster bonding among courtesans so that friends and family members cooperate to secure
customers, ensure a steady income for each member of the friendship, and provide emotional
support for each other. Mothers, who are retired from active prostitution, must manage their
daughters like employees so that the younger generation can support the entire household, which
we see in the Asinaria and Cistellaria. They struggle, however, to balance this need with the
desire for their daughters to be happy. Daughters, meanwhile, experience an internal war
between following their hearts and heeding their mothers’ wishes. The Cistellaria juxtaposes two
different kinds of mother-daughter relationships: in the first, the daughter is a true courtesan and
the mercenary motive takes priority, but in the second, the daughter is revealed to be a citizen by
birth, and her relationship with her adopted mother is different both because of conscious
decisions made in light of the knowledge of her citizenship but also as the result of what Plautus
depicts as the innate character of a citizen girl, which distinguishes her from a non-citizen girl,
regardless of the fact that she is ignorant of her true social status.
A. Menander’s Dis Exapaton and Synaristosai
Unfortunately, little evidence survives for how Menander treated the relationship
between courtesans. His Dis Exapaton, which Plautus adapted for the Bacchides, is known only
105
from two papyri and five ancient citations.162 Approximately 100 lines remain, in which the
courtesan sisters do not speak but are referred to several times. Henry believes that Menander
would have shown these women in a sympathetic light, perhaps by showing that their
relationship as sisters transcended their social status.163 Anderson theorized that Plautus based
his ending for the Bacchides closely on the Dis Exapaton, which indicates that Menander’s
sisters fulfilled the important role of restoring the social order of the oikos at the end of the
play.164
Menander’s lost Synaristosai, upon which Plautus’ Cistellaria is based, is known to us
through a few fragments and several well preserved mosaics at Mytilene, Pompeii, Zeugma, and
Antioch.165 It is possible to conclude from the content of the Cistellaria and title of the
Synaristosai (“Women at Lunch”) that Menander’s play showed courtesans interacting with each
other. Mosaics, many of which are labeled, confirm at least one scene – the title scene in which
the women dine together – showed multiple women on stage at the same time. Henry postulates
that Pythias was a mother figure to the foundling Plangon, whom she reared, but there is not
enough evidence to speculate on the nature of their relationship.166 It is entirely possible that
Plautus’ Melaenis (in the Cistellaria) is based directly upon Pythias. Although we can make few
conclusions about the relationships between women in Menander, it is important to note that
162
P. Oxy 4407 (Handley and Wartenberg 1997) was first published and discussed in pieces:
Handley 1968: 22-25 covers lines 11-30 and 91-112, and Sandbach 1972: 39-40 covers lines 4763 and 89-90. P. Antinoopolis 122 (Barns and Zilliacus 1967) appears to contain the Greek
original for Plautus’ Bacchides, lines 494-526. Six additional fragments of the Dis Exapaton
survive and can be found in Koerte and Thierfelder 1957: v. 2, p. 49-50 (fragments 109-114).
163
Henry 1985: 99.
164
Anderson 1972: 169-70.
165
For a summary of the evidence for this play, see Arnott 2004b, which covers all but the
recently discovered Antioch mosaic. This mosaic is published in Çelik 2009 and discussed by
Gutzwiller 2011.
166
Henry 1985: 128.
106
Plautus and Terence, from whom we have substantial material, built upon a tradition that they
inherited directly through Menander and other New Comic poets and were surely influenced by
their innovations.
B. Plautus’ Bacchides: Sisters and Business Partners
While we can only hypothesize about the relationship between the sisters in Menander’s
Dis Exapaton, the Plautine play based upon it survives almost in its entirety and shows ample
interaction between these two women. The two Bacchides are sisters and meretrices who make
decisions according to the financial necessities of their profession, but their affection for each
other means that they consider each other’s needs, rather than attempting to go it alone. Their
primary concern is finding a way to continue living in the same city, despite financial hardships
that threaten to separate them. They are loyal to each other due to sisterly affection, but also
because of a mutual understanding that collaboration brings in more business. There is little to no
possibility for social mobility: since they are true meretrices (and not kidnapped citizen girls),
they have no prospects for a different life, but must focus on making enough money in their
youth to support themselves in old age.
The rather fragmentary opening of the play introduces two sisters and their love affairs.167
Bacchis of Ephesus, whom I will refer to as Soror, was involved in the past with Mnesilochus,
who now comes to Athens in search of her. Meanwhile, a soldier has paid to have exclusive
access to her for a year, and she fears he will soon leave Athens, forcing her to accompany him,
unless she can buy her freedom. Bacchis of Athens desires to help her sister purchase her
freedom and so concocts a scheme to get the money from Mnesilochus. This opening informs the
audience that sisterly affection is a strong motive in their actions, and the spectator is aware that
167
Gaiser 1970: 65-69, who reconstructs the opening of the Bacchides, postulates that three
scenes have been lost.
107
the praxis will follow Bacchis’ endeavors to free her sister so that they can remain together in
Athens. In the relationship between the two women, Bacchis is the dominant personality, and her
sister, whom I will call Soror, follows her lead. The deference that Soror pays to Bacchis is much
like that which a younger sibling pays to an elder; therefore I will refer to Bacchis as the elder,
although we do not know their relative ages. Bacchis makes the decisions for both, and her
younger sister accepts and follows these decisions with little resistance, as seen in this discussion
of their plans:
{BA} quid si hoc potis est ut tu taceas, ego loquar? {SO} lepide, licet.
{BA} ubi me fugiet memoria, ibi tu facito ut subvenias, soror.168
(35-36)
{BA} How about, if it’s even possible, you be quiet and I do the talking?
{SO} Yes, by all means!
{BA} When my memory fails me, see to it that you come to my aid, sister.
Plautus does not miss the chance to use the comic stereotype that women are loquacious to a
fault, but this passage also shows us the dynamic of the relationship between the two sisters.
Soror readily defers to the authority of her sister, and they agree that Bacchis will take control of
business matters in the subsequent encounter with Pistoclerus.
Bacchis does not have direct access to Mnesilochus, so she must work through his friend
Pistoclerus, whom Mnesilochus sent to Athens in search of Bacchis of Ephesus. While working
to get the money from Mnesilochus, she simultaneously seduces Pistoclerus in order to win
financial support from him, too. If the audience were not aware of Bacchis’ desire to secure her
sister’s freedom, it would appear that her schemes have the main goal of separating men from
their money: she is a shrewd businesswoman, who demonstrates no affection for her customers.
Her actions do not win the meretrices a favorable opinion from the men in the play, but that is
because the men’s desire for free love is in direct contradiction to the women’s need for income.
168
Latin text for the Bacchides, Asinaria, and Cistellaria is taken from Lindsay 1903.
108
Bacchis adopts the only strategy that will enable her to both live near her sister and support
herself financially. Pistoclerus voices the suspicion with which he views meretrices:
{PI} quid agunt duae germanae meretrices cognomines?
quid in consilio consulvistis? {BA} bene. {PI} pol haud meretriciumst.
{BA} miserius nihil est quam mulier.
(39-41)
{PI} (aside) What are those twin harlots of the same name up to? (to Bacchis) What are
you two consulting about? {BA} Something good. {PI} Not likely from a prostitute.
{BA} (aside) There is nothing more miserable than a woman!
Bacchis’ last comment shows that she understands the prejudices faced by her kind, and she
draws up her strategy with this in mind: in order to be successful, she must put Pistoclerus off his
guard by making him believe she seeks no money or gifts from him.
The conversation that ensues between the two is a subtle dance in which Bacchis secures
Pistoclerus’ involvement by misleading him about his role. Bacchis sets herself up as a thirdparty with no financial motives, convincing Pistoclerus that he will be doing her a favor, which
will leave her indebted to him, a debt that she insinuates she will pay with her physical affection.
True to her earlier agreement with Soror, Bacchis takes charge of the conversation and leaves
Soror out of the negotiations. She answers Pistoclerus’ question (line 40, quoted above), with:
haec ita me orat sibi qui caveat aliquem ut hominem reperiam,
ut istunc militem — ut, ubi emeritum sibi sit, se revehat domum.
id, amabo te, huic caveas.
(42-44)
[My sister] here is begging me to find someone to look out for her interests with regards
to this soldier of ours, so that, when she has served her time, he will return her to our
house. Be a dear, help her in this.
The soldier has legally purchased Soror for a year and so can rightfully take her home as his
ancilla (44-45), unless she can pay him back (46). It is unclear whether the sisters are simply
unwilling to be separated for the year, or whether they fear that Soror will not be able to return
once her contract has expired. Once the soldier takes Soror out of Athens, she will be a stranger
109
in a foreign land, with no social contacts other than the soldier. With such dependency, she may
end up in his service indefinitely, or at the very least be trapped abroad with no way back to
Athens.
Although Bacchis casually mentioned the monetary solution to Soror’s problem, she does
not suggest that she wants any money from Pistoclerus at first. Rather, she begins with the
seemingly innocuous suggestion that he come to their house while she explains the problem (4748). The dramatic space of the stage is the street in front of two houses, both represented by
doors in the skene, and one of these houses belongs to the Bacchides.169 Pistoclerus is therefore
more or less already at Bacchis’ house when she makes this suggestion: it is easy to bait him
when he is all but in the trap. Bacchis suggests that he sit down and wait for the soldier, and
promises kisses (savium, 49) in return. But Pistoclerus is suspicious because he understands that
meretrices do not give kisses for free, and it is unlikely that the favor for which she appears to be
asking will satisfy his debt. He calls her offers blanditia (50), the well recognized means of
manipulation used by courtesans against libidinous men.170 Continued involvement will cost him
actual money sooner or later. He says, non ego istuc facinus mihi, mulier, conducibile esse
arbitror (“Madam, I think this business is unprofitable for me,” 52). He fears that if he is in close
proximity to a beautiful and seductive woman, and there are no cultural mores to hold him back,
he will start to do things for which he will then owe money. Bacchis assures him that she will
stop his advances (57), and she decides to lay out the full plan for him in order to alleviate his
suspicion. She tells him that he only needs to stick around until the soldier arrives, because his
mere presence will prevent the soldier from harming the women or taking Soror (57-62). It
169
See Rosivach 1986: 430-34 on the stage setting of this play.
See McClure 1999: 62-68; Dutsch 2005; and Dutsch 2008: 49-91 on the verbal genre of
women’s seductive persuasion. Karakasis 2003: 49-52 analyzes the blandishments of this scene
specifically.
170
110
becomes more apparent that Bacchis is proposing that Pistoclerus pretend to be her lover: he is
supposed to be in her home, where he will sit with her on the couch and she will give him kisses.
Slater likens this scene to a play within a play, in which Bacchis has invited Pistoclerus to play a
role in her farce, and he must decide whether he intends to participate. Of this role, Pistoclerus
asks himself, utrum ego istuc iocon adsimulem an serio? (“Should I play it for a joke or
seriously?” 75). Whichever he decides, he is still playing a role,171 because there is such a fine
line between pretending and actually being her lover: as soon as he touches her, something that it
would be incredibly difficult for him to avoid, it would constitute a purchase of the goods. He
would therefore owe money on the product that he already consumed, since you cannot undo a
touch or caress. He is fully aware of the slippery slope in her proposal: rapidus fluvius est hic,
non hac temere transiri potest, (“This is a swiftly moving stream. Crossing should not be
undertaken lightly!” 85).
As the conversation turns to the money that Pistoclerus will undoubtedly be separated
from, it becomes apparent that Bacchis has been attending to two goals: keeping her sister in
Athens and earning money. Her initial strategy removed suspicion from herself long enough to
lure Pistoclerus into her house and onto her lectus. She appeared at first to be putting her sister’s
needs before her own, but soon we see that she has steadily been working on securing income for
herself, too. In response to Pistoclerus’ comment about the rapidus fluvius, Bacchis says, atque
ecastor apud hunc fluvium aliquid perdundumst tibi (“And, by Castor, you are sure to lose
something in this river!” 86). Once Pistoclerus agrees to pose as her lover to help protect Soror
(92), Bacchis masterfully secures the first payment. She announces that she will host a dinner
and asks Pistoclerus to attend, posing as her lover (93-96). Allowing Bacchis to pay insults his
171
Slater 2000: 78.
111
sense of decency, so he insists on covering the cost of the dinner himself (97-98). Bacchis has
secured the first financial reward for both herself and her sister, who will also be attending the
lavish dinner.172 In a private conversation, Soror praises Bacchis for having “caught” Pistoclerus
(102), that is, for having secured an ongoing relationship in which he will continue to pay for her
services, as is typical of an amator-meretrix relationship.
The relationship that Bacchis negotiated is of financial benefit mainly to herself; she has
not yet accomplished her stated goal of obtaining Soror’s release from the soldier. Lest she
appear to be neglecting her, Bacchis quickly turns the conversation to Soror’s problem:
{BA} tibi nunc operam dabo de Mnesilocho, soror,
ut hic accipias potius aurum quam hinc eas cum milite.
{SO} cupio. {BA} dabitur opera. aqua calet: eamus hinc intro ut laves.
nam uti navi vecta es, credo timida es.
(103-6)
{BA} Now I will focus my efforts on Mnesilochus, sister, so that you can bring in some
money rather than go off with the soldier.
{SO} This is what I desire.
{BA} I’ll work on it. The water is warm: let us go inside so that you can bathe. For after
your journey by sea, you must be tired.
If Bacchis is the dominant personality, she sees to it that she earns this position. Although
leaning on Pistoclerus was part of the plan to secure Soror’s freedom, it appears thus far to be
benefiting Bacchis more than Soror. It is therefore important to the sisters’ relationship that
Bacchis verbally acknowledge, with operam dabo and dabitur opera, that she is still working on
Soror’s problem.173 In order to maintain and justify her position, she must see to the needs of
those who accept her authority and depend on her leadership. The two are well suited for each
172
Maurach 1983 discusses the central theme of deception (a key part of the Menandrian
original) illustrated in this scene: Bacchis tries and fails four times to get Pistoclerus to join her
scheme, and his help is finally enlisted only through deception. As the play unfolds, Plautus
examines how the fact that his involvement began under false pretenses leads to his exploitation.
173
Tannen 1990: 249 has observed that modern U.S. women find it important to verbally affirm
that they are following the socially prescribed rules. Tannen is a socio-linguist who studies men
and women in conversation.
112
other: Bacchis feels compelled to take care of her sister, and Soror wants someone to look out for
her. The arrangement helps both achieve their financial goals, which in turn helps them stay
together in Athens, something that is clearly important to them.
We do not see the sisters again until near the end of the play in a scene that revisits their
financial needs. The women are approached by two senes, the fathers of Pistoclerus and
Mnesilochus, who are upset that their sons have spent so much family money on the meretrices.
The fathers, called Nicobulus and Philoxenus, blame their loss on the wily ways of the
meretrices rather than the poor judgment of their sons. The girls chat between themselves,
comparing the old men to sheep that do not have any milk or wool, that is, nothing of pecuniary
value (1121-40). They do not engage the senes in conversation, despite the men’s attempts.
Because they believe that they can no longer get money out of these men, the sisters act as if they
do not exist: they were never people, just wallets, and when the wallets are empty, they are
overlooked. This treatment continues until Bacchis concocts a new scheme, realizing that there is
still a way to get money out of the two fathers. Although they have discovered and put a stop to
their sons’ expenditures, she realizes that the fathers may yet be susceptible to seduction
themselves. If they are not willing to pay for their sons’ affairs, they may be willing to pay for
their own.
Again Bacchis takes the lead, but she also demonstrates that she is fair to her sister. It is
Bacchis who requests private counsel with Soror and Bacchis who suggests the new plan:
{BA} soror, est quod te volo secreto. {SO} eho, amabo. {NICOBULUS} quo illaec
abeunt?
{BA} senem illum tibi dedo ulteriorem, lepide ut lenitum reddas;
ego ad hunc iratum adgrediar. possumus nos hos intro inlicere huc.
{SO} meum pensum ego lepide accurabo: quam odiosum est mortem amplexari!
{BA} facito ut facias. {SO} taceas. tu tuom facito: ego quod dixi hau mutabo. (1149-54)
{BA} Sister, there is something I wish to tell you in private.
113
{SO} Of course, dear.
{NI} Where are these girls off to?
{BA} I’ll give you that old man over there, so that you get gently mollify him; I will
approach this here irascible one. We can lure them in here.
{SO} I’ll take care of my duty with grace: how hateful it is to caress death!
{BA} See that you do it.
{SO} Hush. You do your part: I will not go back on what I said.
The task of having physical relations with the old men is odious – Soror uses strong language
with mortem amplexari – but Bacchis promises to partake of the unsavory deed equally. She
speaks to her sister with imperatives, literally ordering her around, but she does not order her to
do more than her fair share of unpleasant things. Bacchis is the leader of this social duo, but does
not abuse her power. She earns the right to make decisions for both sisters unilaterally because
her decisions are profitable and fair to both of them, and Soror may welcome the release from the
responsibility of being decision-maker. Soror is not a parasite, though: she must work to earn the
respect and friendship of her sister, too. When she pledges to uphold her assigned role, Bacchis
expresses doubt, which causes Soror to become defensive (1154). She takes care to remind
Bacchis that her pledge is good. Just as Bacchis must maintain her leadership status by being
fair, Soror must maintain her place in the friendship by following Bacchis’ lead, and she is a
little insulted when Bacchis implies that she has forgotten her loyalty.
The two women have struck up a balance that works well for them, but they both feel the
need to verbally confirm the leader/follower dynamic from time to time. As I mentioned before,
their relationship resembles that of elder and younger sister, where the former looks out for the
latter, who has grown up trusting that the elder knows best and will take care of them both. Their
loyalty to each other stems from sisterly affection rather than class solidarity, but the fact that
they are both confined by the financial needs of a meretrix means that they benefit from forming
114
a business alliance. By working together, they help each other acquire customers, which helps
them achieve their goals of staying together in Athens and supporting themselves over time.
C. Plautus’ Asinaria: Mothers and Daughters in the Trade
The Asinaria shows us the relationship between a mother and her daughter rather than
two sisters, and the different dynamic demonstrates how an older woman can become dependent
upon a daughter and protégé, who can still work as a courtesan.174 As with the sisters of the
Bacchides, the relationship between the mother and daughter of the Asinaria is a delicate balance
of affection, trust, loyalty, and deference. The play follows a young man, Argyrippus, and his
relationship with the meretrix Philaenium. Although she appears to be enamored with him, the
exclusivity of their relationship is opposed by her mother, Cleareta, who always has the women’s
financial needs in mind. This creates a great deal of tension between the mother and daughter:
Philaenium wants to obey her mother, but is upset that her mother appears not to care for her
feelings; Cleareta wants her daughter to be happy, but feels a responsibility to put her daughter’s
livelihood ahead of her emotional needs.
An angry rant of Argyrippus near the opening of the play puts the economic constraints
of the meretrix life into perspective and highlights Cleareta’s concerns for her daughter.
Argyrippus states that Cleareta and Philaenium were destitute before they met him (141),
demonstrating that the women depend on him and other customers for their very livelihood (he
may, of course, be exaggerating to make his point). Cleareta is in a difficult position, because
174
According to the prologue, the source of the Asinaria is the Onagos of Demophilus, but many
scholars believe that Plautus conflated two Greek originals. See especially Hough 1937; della
Corte 1951; and Rambelli 1956. Some scholars argue that the play lacks artistic unity, which is
blamed on contamination, especially in the final scene, in which the behavior of several
characters seems to be at odds with the rest of the play. The arguments for and against unity are
summarized in Bertini 1968: 48-56. Munari 1947 in particular presents a cogent argument for
unity.
115
when she succeeds in extracting money from customers, Argyrippus threatens her with violence
and legal action:
ibo ego ad trisviros vostraque ibi nomina
faxo erunt, capitis te perdam ego et filiam,
perlecebrae, permities, adulescentum exitium.
(131-33)
I will go to the police and put your names on record, and I will destroy you and your
daughter, you enticements, you ruinations, you destroyers of young men!175
The appeal to the law suggests that Argyrippus had a contract with Philaenium – his monologue
begins with an objection to having been thrown out of the girl’s house (128) – which he believes
has been broken.176 He is angry with Cleareta because she drives a hard bargain, yet at the same
time, he has demonstrated that she is dependent upon his payment for her very livelihood. She
cannot both make a living and have a business model that is pleasing to him. Argyrippus is
careful to distinguish the object of his rage, which hints at a disagreement between mother and
daughter: he is mad at Cleareta, but not at Philaenium, because he believes that Philaenium is
merely following her mother’s orders. He says to Cleareta: tuo facit iussu, tuo imperio paret:
mater tu, eadem era es (“[Philaenium] does these things under your orders, she obeys your
command: you are both mother and mistress,” 147). He highlights the dual role that Cleareta
must play in her relationship with her daughter: as mother, she wants her daughter to be happy,
but she also wants her daughter to be supported, which means she must often play the cruel era
in order to do her job as a loving mater.
175
In these three lines, the object of Argyrippus’ invective switches from the singular (Cleareta)
to the plural (Cleareta and Philaenium). Havet 1905: 94-97 feels that this attitude towards
Philaenium is inconsistent with Argyrippus’ character, but Lowe 1992: 162 explains that his
violent invective is a Plautine embellishment, who was not so much concerned with consistency
(or fidelity to the Greek original) as with getting the audience to laugh at his use of the pessuma
meretrix stereotype.
176
On the nature of contracts between hetairai and their customers, see Cohen 2006: 109-110.
116
The combination of a mother who drives a hard bargain and a daughter who has genuine
feelings for her lover is an effective business strategy: the affection that Argyrippus senses from
Philaenium keeps him coming back for more, but the strict rules of Cleareta assure that
Philaenium gets paid for her services. As Argyrippus notes, however, Philaenium is following
her mother’s orders: Philaenium played no part in formulating such a business strategy and is not
interested in whether or not Argyrippus can pay. Cleareta, however, is fully aware of
Argyrippus’ devotion and intends to exploit it to make sure that Philaenium is cared for. She
acknowledges that Argyrippus is hooked when she tells him, fixus hic apud nos est animus tuos
clavo Cupidinis (“Your heart is fixed to us by the nail of Cupid,” 156). Perhaps if Philaenium
treated him as coldly as her mother, he would lose interest in her, but instead her behavior keeps
him enamored. Cleareta makes decisions that are unpleasant for the lovers and commands her
daughter to abide by them. Argyrippus does not blame Philaenium for the unpleasantness that he
suffers, but instead feels that they are both victims of Cleareta’s tyranny. He continues to desire
the company of the girl, but he cannot have it without paying. In this way, Cleareta protects the
financial interests of her daughter (and herself) by ensuring income.
Perhaps from the wisdom of old age, Cleareta is open about her financial priorities for her
family. She knows what she and her daughter need, and she does not hesitate to state it directly.
In discussions with Argyrippus, Cleareta tells him several times in several ways that he cannot
see Philaenium if he cannot pay:
solus ductato, si semper solus quae poscam dabis;
semper tibi promissum habeto hac lege, dum superes datis.
(165-66)
You can take her for yourself alone, as long as you alone can always give what I demand.
You can always be sure of this creed, as long as you give the best gifts.
117
Their conversation continues on the same theme, and Cleareta repeats this basic rule (237-42,
188-97). Fantham says that the courtesans of Plautus’ Truculentus “have only one enduring
principle: to take without giving; the lover-customer who still has something to give is welcome,
while he who has given his all is discarded as dead and empty of promise.”177 Cleareta is keenly
aware that her position as a retired meretrix and procuress for Philaenium leaves no room for
love or pity towards the customers. She does not mince words with Argyrippus when she tells
him that she is only acting in accordance with her officium:
{AR} male agis mecum. {CL} quid me accusas, si facio officium meum?
(173)
{AR} You are treating me badly.
{CL} Why do you accuse me, when I am only doing my job?
She is open and honest with Argyrippus about her motivations, which makes her the enemy in
his eyes, but her blunt and relentless behavior ensures that the women will get paid for
Philaenium’s services.
Philaenium, meanwhile, whether by her mother’s design, her natural personality, or a
combination of both, seems to Argyrippus to be a worthy object of his affection, and he does not
hold her responsible for the difficulties that he is encountering. She wants to continue seeing
Argyrippus, although her mother has expressly forbidden it. Cleareta tells her:
quid ais tu, quam ego unam vidi mulierem audacissumam?
quotiens te votui Argyrippum filium Demaeneti
compellare aut contrectare, conloquive aut contui?
quid dedit? quid iussit ad nos deportari? an tu tibi
verba blanda esse aurum rere, dicta docta pro datis?
(521-25)
What are you saying, you the most audacious woman I have ever seen? How many times
have I forbidden you to call upon or get together with or talk to or be in eyesight of
Argyrippus, the son of Demaenetus? What has he given us? What has he ordered to be
brought to us? Or do you think that kind words are equal to gold, that fancy talk is a
substitute for gifts?
177
Fantham 2002: 294.
118
Since this conversation is between Philaenium and her mother, we have reasonable assurance
that it represents Philaenium’s true feelings towards Argyrippus.178 Although it may be to her
benefit to deceive Argyrippus, to share this information with her mother only causes friction and
so is likely true. When she next meets with Argyrippus, her inner struggle between affection for
her lover and obedience to her mother is clear:
{AR} cur me retentas? {PH} quia tui amans abeuntis egeo.
{AR} vale, <vale>. {PH} aliquanto amplius valerem, si hic maneres.
{AR} salve. {PH} salvere me iubes, quoi tu abiens offers morbum.
{AR} mater supremam mihi tua dixit, domum ire iussit.
{PH} acerbum funus filiae faciet, si te carendum est.
(591-95)
{AR} Why do you hold me back?
{PH} Because I love you, and I need you, even as you’re leaving.
{AR} Farewell.
{PH} I would fare much better if you stayed here.
{AR} Be well!
{PH} You bid me be well, but your departure makes me sick.
{AR} Your mother said that this was my last hour: she ordered me to go home.
{PH} She will make a bitter funeral of her daughter, if I have to live without you.
Philaenium shows extreme distress at the idea of being separated from Argyrippus, and we take
her distress to be genuine in light of her earlier conversation with her mother. She strongly
desires to continue her relationship with her lover despite the fact that he cannot pay. Her mother
believes that she fails to appreciate her economic situation and is acting inappropriately for a
businesswoman:
178
In the denouement, Philaenium is seen giving her attentions to Argyrippus’ father,
Demaenetus (829-30). For many scholars, this creates a problem of artistic unity, casting doubt
on the exclusivity of Philaenium’s affection for Argyrippus. The scene is widely accepted to be
the result of contamination and Plautine innovation, as argued by Hough 1937: 22-23, 34.
Konstan 1978: 216-18 argues that Plautus altered this scene from Demophilus’ Onagos because
he wanted to introduce another comic trope, that of the rival lover. Likewise, Lowe 1992: 171-73
argues that Plautus altered this scene because he wanted to end the play with a festive drinking
party. Both scholars demonstrate that the change in Philaenium’s character serves Plautus’ needs
in the final scene only, and does not mean that her affection for Argyrippus earlier in the play is
not genuine.
119
ultro amas, ultro expetessis, ultro ad te accersi iubes.
illos qui dant, eos derides; qui deludunt deperis.
an te id exspectare oportet, si quis promittat tibi
te facturum divitem, si moriatur mater sua?
ecastor [nobis] periclum magnum et familiae portenditur,
dum eius exspectamus mortem, ne nos moriamur fame.
(526-31)
You yourself actively love him, you yourself long for him deeply, you yourself have him
summoned to you. Those who give gifts, you shun them; the ones who delude you, those
are the ones you fall hopelessly in love with! Can you really afford to wait for it, if
someone promises that he will give you riches if his mother dies? By Castor, a great
danger threatens us and our household, while we wait for her to die, that we ourselves
might die of starvation!
The behavior that Cleareta describes is more appropriate for an amator than a meretrix:
Philaenium actively pursues and desires Argyrippus, even summons him to her. What is more,
however, is that she does this without pay and while rejecting paying customers. Cleareta tries to
explain that a meretrix does not have the luxury of turning down paying customers or offering
her services for free. It may be strategically advantageous for a citizen girl to be picky regarding
proposals from men, because a good choice of husband makes the difference for her long-term
stability. Perhaps a citizen girl should wait for a suitor who promises her riches once his mother
dies, especially if she has no good options in the meantime. A meretrix, however, can never have
the long-term security of a marriage: there is absolutely no benefit to her in waiting for a better
offer. Unlike a citizen, a meretrix can and should accept the advances of multiple suitors because
the only way she can achieve financial security is to build up savings. A quote from the Lena of
the Cistellaria sums up this point rather nicely:
matronae magis conducibilest istuc, mea Selenium
unum amare et cum eo aetatem exigere quoi nuptast semel.
verum enim meretrix fortunati est oppidi simillima:
non potest suam rem optinere sola sine multis viris.
(Cist. 78-81)
This strategy is more profitable for a matrona, my Selenium, to love just one man and
spend your life with him once you’ve married him. But a meretrix is very much like a
prosperous town: it is not possible for her to secure her fortune without many men.
120
The way that a courtesan must act is dictated by her financial need, but Philaenium does not play
the part. Her behavior is not profitable, but her mother’s mercenary behavior turns Philaenium’s
un-meretrix-like behavior into profit.
Like many children, Philaenium feels obliged to abide by her mother’s orders, but
experiences great resentment when she does not agree with them. Like many parents, Cleareta
struggles to assert her authority over an independently minded child. Their conflict is highlighted
by Cleareta’s exasperated comment to Philaenium:
nequeon ego ted interdictis facere mansuestem meis?
an ita tu es animata, ut qui expers matris imperio sies?
(505-6)
Have I no power to make you compliant with my commands? Or are you so determined
to make yourself out of reach of my authority?179
From Cleareta’s perspective, Philaenium is ignoring her authority, but Philaenium’s perspective
is the opposite: it is precisely because she respects her mother’s authority that she is experiencing
such inner distress. Philaenium tries to reason with her mother rather than go behind her back.
She explains that it would be an affront to the goddess Piety to turn Argyrippus away (507-8),
but her mother counters that it is an affront to the goddess to disobey one’s mother (509). Each
tries to use reason to convince the other that her viewpoint is correct: they would rather come to
an agreement than let the issue come between them. Philaenium admits that the extent of her
rebellion is limited:
{CL} ego te volui castigare, tu mi accusatrix ades.
{PH} neque edepol te accuso neque id me facere fas existimo.
verum ego meas queror fortunas, cum illo quem amo prohibeor.
(513-15)
{CL} I merely wish to correct your behavior, but you have become my accuser.
179
Hough 1937: 31 concludes that this scene (ll. 505-44) was imported by Plautus from another
unnamed play, reflecting a conscious decision to show an aspect of the mother-daughter
relationship that was not present in the Demophilus play.
121
{PH} By Pollux I am not accusing your nor do I even think it right for me to do so. But I
am lamenting my misfortune, since I am being kept from the one I love.
Philaenium is adamant that she is not willing to accuse (accuso) her mother, which would
apparently mean a complete rejection of her authority. Rather, Philaenium says that she is merely
trying to voice her complaints (queror). She thinks her mother’s decision to keep her away from
Argyrippus is cruel and wrong, but she appears to be abiding by that decision, since she says, “I
am being kept from the one I love,” not “You are trying to keep me from the one I love (but I
will see him anyway).”
Konstan has observed that the above scene is a parody of the comic trope of a young
lover experiencing tension with a parental blocking figure, with significant alterations: in this
scene, the young lover is not a citizen male but a female prostitute.180 The more interesting
alteration, however, is that the blocking figure is not making objections on the basis of social
norms and citizen propriety: Cleareta does not object to the sexual encounters of her daughter on
moral grounds, only on the grounds that this particular relationship is not profiting them.
Konstan says,
Philaenium is for her mother no more than an instrument of her avarice. To cloak this
exploitation in the guise of filial virtue is an ironic travesty of the moral basis of relations
in the family. The entire scene is a comic exposé of the materialistic abuse of
conventional values, from Cleareta’s opening demand for reverence to Philaenium’s
closing words: “Mother, you have raised an obedient daughter.”
I have no doubt that Plautus intended the scene as the irreverent parody that Konstan describes,
but Konstan here falls into the “greedy whore” trap. One can find ample quotes within the text to
support the claim that Cleareta is fixated on cash, but the word “avarice” implies that she seeks
more than she needs, that she loves cash for the sake of cash itself. Gestri, however, has carefully
analyzed Cleareta’s exchange with Argyrippus (153-248) and shown that most of her lines
180
Konstan 1978: 220.
122
indicate she seeks money as part of her business and for the sake of her livelihood (177, 186,
188, 198-201, 215-18). In only a few lines is she characterized as cold-hearted (153-55, 173-75).
Gestri concludes that Plautus has taken a reasonable lena from the Onagos and made her more
rapacious.181 As I hope I have shown, however, there is no indication that Cleareta seeks more
money than she needs to survive, and no indication that she is thinking of her own survival more
than Philaenium’s. Her financial concerns are apparent from her actions: she has forbidden
Philaenium to see Argyrippus without pay because she understands that they cannot afford to
give away free services, and she lectures Philaenium on the meretrix business model (521-31,
quoted above), explaining that she must end her relationship with Argyrippus. A closer look at
her interactions with Philaenium shows that Cleareta is not acting out of greed: she is genuinely
looking out for her family by making sure that she and Philaenium have enough money on which
to live. Their desperation is alluded to when Philaenium begs her mother to deny her food
instead of her lover: patiar, si cibo carere me iubes, mater mea (“I would do it, if you ordered
me to go without food, mother mine!” 535). I do not know if Plautus intended the irony (he
certainly intended the melodrama), but the reader should now understand that this is precisely the
argument that Cleareta is trying to make: Philaenium can either see her boyfriend or eat, but not
both. If she does not shun the freeloading Argyrippus for paying customers, they will not have
enough money to put food on the table. Philaenium, of course, does not genuinely believe that
the risk of continuing to see Argyrippus is as great as her mother claims. Cleareta understands
the need, however, and is willing to emotionally wound her daughter and forego the chance at an
amicable relationship with her if it keeps her daughter alive.
181
Gestri 1940.
123
In asking her mother for a different order (death instead of break-up), one that seems
more palatable to a lovesick teenager, Philaenium demonstrates that she wants to follow her
mother’s orders. Whether she feels that she has to, or she trusts that somehow her mother knows
best, she feels a great pull in the direction of obedience. Meanwhile, although it is likely that
Philaenium will follow her mother’s orders in the end, Cleareta still hopes to convince
Philaenium to do this willingly. She explains the reasons behind her decision: em, | meum caput
contemples, si quidem ex re consultas tua (“Oh, just look at my head, if indeed you have any
regard for your own good,” 537-38). The reference to grey hair is intended to remind Philaenium
that she, too, will one day be old, too old to solicit paying customers. It also calls attention to the
fact that Cleareta is now too old to make money and so depends on Philaenium’s cooperation for
her own survival. With one last plea, Philaenium asks to be allowed to love for loves’ sake: sine
me amare unum Argyrippum animi caussa, quem volo (“Allow me to love Argyrippus alone, for
the sake of my heart, the man whom I desire,” 542). Her mother, however, refuses to back down.
As we have come to expect, Philaenium ultimately decides to obey her mother: audientem dicto,
mater, produxisti filiam (“You have brought up a daughter that heeds your commands, mother,”
544). Despite all of her objections, it was never her intention to disobey; her hope was to
persuade her mother to change her position so that she could both keep her boyfriend and remain
loyal to her mother. When she was unsuccessful, Philaenium chose her mother over her lover.
She abides by Cleareta’s wishes either because she trusts her judgment, even though it seems
wrong in this particular instance, or because her emotional attachment to her mother is too strong
to risk damaging their relationship. She is more willing to risk damaging her relationship with
Argyrippus.
124
The mother-daughter dynamic adds a level of interdependency and emotional attachment
not seen in the Bacchides. Cleareta cannot live without Philaenium’s financial support.
Philaenium cannot yet make it on her own: she shows herself to be still a child who is
emotionally and practically dependent upon a parent. Meanwhile, their attachment to each other
is strong enough that both put great effort into avoiding conflict, each striving to come to an
agreement and make the other see her side. Cleareta wants her daughter to understand that she
only has her best interests at heart; Phileanium wants her mother to understand the depth of her
feelings for Argyrippus and the importance of her happiness. Neither wants to hurt the other, but
each understands that she is hurting the other and tries to rectify that.
D. Plautus’ Cistellaria: Friendship between Courtesans
There is a plethora of courtesans in the Cistellaria, a play based on the Synaristosai of
Menander and set in Sicyon, giving us several relationships worthy of study.182 In my analysis of
this play, I will examine the bonds of friendship exclusive of family ties and investigate how the
status of pseudo-courtesan complicates the mother-daughter paradigm discussed in the Asinaria.
In the Cistellaria, Syra and Melaenis, who have a long-standing friendship, worked as meretrices
in their younger years (38-39) and now depend on their daughters for income. Syra acts as lena
for her daughter Gymnasium, stating that she “marries” (nubat, 43) Gymnasium off every night.
Melaenis has allowed her adopted daughter, Selenium, to cohabit with her first and only lover,
Alcesimarchus, who is madly in love with Selenium and has promised to marry her.
182
The recent volume of collected papers, Studien zu Plautus’ Cistellaria (Hartkamp and Hurka
2004), is an invaluable contribution to the study of this play. The papers cover a wide variety of
topics, including interpretation, meter, reception, dating, and speech, but the papers of the most
relevance to my dissertation can be found in the section on “Frauen:” Fantham 2004, Gilula
2004, Hartkamp 2004, Slater 2004, and Auhagen 2004.
125
Selenium is a pseudo-courtesan, that is, a citizen by birth who was raised as a courtesan.
She is the product of a rape perpetrated by Demipho against the unmarried Phanostrata, both
citizens of Sicyon. Demipho, aware of his crime, fled to Lemnos where he took a Lemnian wife
and had a daughter. Meanwhile, Phanostrata abandoned her baby, which was then picked up by
the courtesan Syra, who gave it to her friend Melaenis to raise. After the death of his Lemnian
wife, Demipho returned to Sicyon, married Phanostrata, and betrothed his Lemnian daughter to
Alcesimarchus. This creates a problem for our courtesan women: upon hearing this news,
Melaenis believes Alcesimarchus has broken his promise of marriage, and she calls Selenium
back home, no doubt to rethink her future as marriage was no longer an option.183 Meanwhile,
Phanostrata explains to Demipho that they had a daughter who was abandoned years ago, but
that her slave saw a woman (whom the audience knows to be Syra) pick up the baby. Demipho
sends this same slave, Lampadio, to find the woman he saw years ago so that Demipho and
Phanostrata might be reunited with their daughter. With this background, I turn to my analysis.
i. Solidarity by ordo
In a play with an unusually high number of courtesans, it is appropriate that Syra gives a
speech exhorting solidarity among their ordo. Her speech takes place in the opening scene and
may be taken as an introduction to the bonds that tie non-related courtesans together. Syra is a bit
drunk, our cue that she is speaking from the heart, when she says:
decet pol, mea Selenium,
hunc esse ordinem benevolentis inter se
beneque amicitia utier,
ubi istas videas summo genere gnatas, summatis matronas,
ut amicitiam colunt atque ut eam iunctam bene habent inter se.
si idem istuc nos faciamus, si [idem] imitemur, ita tamen vix vivimus
cum invidia summa. suarum opum nos volunt esse indigentis.
183
(22-28)
Gilula 2004: 245. If Selenium cannot marry the one and only man she has had sexual
relations with, then she cannot marry anyone and will likely have to be a meretrix indefinitely.
126
By Pollux, my Selenium, those of our situation (ordo) should be good to each other and
use our friendship well, when you see those women born of the highest stock, the noblest
matrons, how they cultivate friendships in order to create strong ties among themselves.
If we were to do the same thing, if we were to imitate them, still we scarcely live without
incurring the greatest hatred. They want us to be dependent upon their wealth. …
Her tirade against the haughtiness of the matronae continues through line 41. Syra’s sense of
camaraderie with her fellow courtesans is heightened by the presence of a common enemy. She
says they must form close relationships precisely because wealthy matronae have a tightly knit
community, which they used to keep lower-class women in a dependent position. Syra’s speech
describes the cause of this class conflict: matronae unite to oppress meretrices because of the
perceived threat to their marital relations (36-37),184 therefore meretrices must stick together in
the face of this opposition. Their solidarity is necessary for their survival: with an organized
group attempting to block their financial endeavors, cooperation among sex-workers is necessary
in order to make a living.
Syra’s use of the term hic ordo is strange and unparalleled, and it would be beneficial to
know whether it is a translation of a Greek original or a Plautine interpolation. The word is used
only one other time in Plautus, when a wealthy citizen man states that a poor citizen man is not
in his ordo (Aul. 232), indicating a distinction in money, not citizenship. It is possible that Syra
uses it pretentiously, in order to elevate women of her social status to an official ordo – the
established property classes for Roman male citizens – thereby giving such women a more
legitimate place in society. The qualities that bind Syra’s ordo seem to be a mixture of economic
184
Fantham 2004: 233 suggests, and I do not disagree, that Syra’s speech creates false
expectations for the behavior of the women in the play: it portrays matronae as arrogant women
who work against all meretrices, but we later discover Phanostrata to be cooperative and
respectful towards Melaenis. Such false expectations, and the suspense that they create, are
common plot devices in comedy: in Terence’s Hecyra, the mother-in-law defies the expectation
that she will mistreat her daughter-in-law, and his Eunuch, the courtesan Thais defies men’s
expectations that she be greedy and dishonest.
127
and social status. Syra says that she and Melaenis are libertinae (38), a class that did not exist in
Menandrian Athens but in Plautine Rome consisted of freed slaves. Women of such social status
rarely achieve economic success and, in their destitution, might turn to prostitution.185 Syra says
that the two became meretrices after gaining their freedom (38), but in their old age they no
longer ply the trade themselves. Thus meretrix is a profession that one can enter and leave, but
libertinae remains a social status throughout. Syra’s daughter, Gymnasium, has relations with
paying customers nightly, making her a meretrix by definition. Selenium, however, says that she
has adopted certain behaviors specifically so that she will not be called meretrix (83): she has
only had sex with one man, with whom she lives. Thus out of these four women, only one can
truly be called a meretrix now. Fantham concludes:
There may be no social reality behind the formalization of association in noster ordo (23,
33) but there is surely some economic reality behind the old woman’s indignation in Cist.
22-37 against the contrast in status, comfort and security, of wealthy Roman wives.186
Fantham’s definition of ordo in this passage is narrower than that of Konstan, who says that the
group includes all “professional courtesans, meretrices in Latin or hetairai in Greek, who earned
their livelihood by the commerce of their bodies.”187 Fantham is correct, I think, to exclude
wealthy courtesans, since Syra’s ordo is bound together by financial destitution and
powerlessness. They are of “marginal status,” an imprecise label that is evidenced by the way
people react to a group socially, which is also what creates that group’s marginal status: “The
precise function of social reaction is linked to control, which is designed to keep the marginal on
185
186
187
McGinn 2004: 61.
Fantham 2004: 237.
Konstan 1983: 108.
128
the margin.”188 What Syra, Melaenis, Gymnasium, and Selenium have in common, then, is the
humiliating way in which they are treated by mainstream society.
ii. Friendship between two young courtesans: Gymnasium and Selenium
Syra’s speech takes the tone of a business contract, exhorting colleagues to look out for
each other financially, but their friendship is personal, not just professional. Selenium praises the
longevity and intimacy of her friendship with Gymnasium and Syra:
quom ego antehac te amavi et mi amicam esse crevi,
mea Gymnasium, et matrem tuam, tum id mihi hodie
aperuistis, tu atque haec: soror si mea esses,
qui magis potueris mi honorem ire habitum,
nescio, nisi, ut meus est animus, fieri non posse arbitror;
ita omnibus relictis rebus mihi frequentem operam dedistis.
eo ego vos amo et eo a me magnam iniistis gratiam.
(1-7)
While I have always loved you and considered you to be my friend, dear Gymnasium,
both you and your mother, today you have proved it to me, both of you: if you were my
sister, I do not know how you could have shown me more esteem, unless – no, my mind
is made up, I do not think it is possible; you dropped everything and gave me such
unfailing attention. I love you for it and you have earned great thanks from me for it.
She thinks of them as family, and it is important to her, that they treat her with such high regard.
Perhaps she waxes eloquent about the importance of friendship because she knows that she needs
to utilize that friendship soon, when she seeks a sympathetic ear regarding her recent breakup.
Syra interrupts, however, with the speech on solidarity quoted above, arguing the financial
necessity of multiple partners. This causes Selenium great distress, which her good friend
Gymnasium notices and tries to alleviate: eloquere utrumque nobis | et quid tibi est et quid velis
nostram operam, ut nos sciamus (“Explain to us both what the trouble is and how you wish us to
help, so that we may understand,” 56-57). Gymnasium offers the services of a friend: a
sympathetic ear and tangible assistance in solving the problem. She also offers her empathy
188
McGinn 1998: 15.
129
when she says that Selenium’s tears elicit her own: noli, obsecro, lacrumis tuis mi exercitum
imperare (“Do not, I beg you, get all worked up and make me cry, too,” 59).189 As promised,
Gymnasium patiently listens to Selenium’s troubles, offering encouragement at the proper
moments: when Selenium explains that she is in love, Gymnasium offers sympathy (perfidiosus
est Amor, “Love is faithless,” 72); when Selenium is dejected, Gymnasium bids her to cheer up
(bono animo es, erit isti morbo melius, “Be of good cheer, this sickness of yours will get better,”
73); when Selenium says she needs a doctor, Gymnasium assures her that one will come (75).
Selenium explains that her mother permitted her to take up residence with Alcesimarchus, her
first and only lover, in an apartment. He had promised to marry her, but now his father is forcing
him to marry another.190 With this she fulfills the first part of Gymnasium’s request, to explain
her distress.
Next, Selenium addresses the second part of her friend’s request by telling how
Gymnasium can help. Selenium says that her mother, who believes the affair should be ended,
has called her home for three days. She requires a favor, namely, that Gymnasium look after her
apartment in her absence. Syra understands that to grant this favor would require the loss of three
days’ wages for Gymnasium and herself. To fulfill Gymnasium’s promise, the offer of
189
Cf. Casina 180-81, wherein Myrrhina tells her friend Cleostrata, nam quod tibi est aegre,
idem mist dividiae (“For anything that troubles you troubles me, too”), and Stichus 20-21,
wherein Panegyris comforts her crying sister, ne lacruma, soror, neu tuo id animo | fac quod tibi
tuos pater facere minatur (“Don’t cry, sister, and do not yourself create the mental anguish that
your father threatens to create”).
190
As the assumed daughter of Melaenis and a foreign man, Selenium’s legal eligibility for
marriage is unclear. In Athens, the Periclean Marriage Law of 451/50 states that both parents
must be citizens in order for a child to be a citizen and thus eligible for marriage, but this play is
set in Sicyon. Fantham 1975: 58-59 argues that the audience, unfamiliar with foreign laws,
would assume she was eligible by Sicyonian law. Brown 2005: 57 notes that, since
Alcesimarchus’ father originally betrothed him to a Lemnian girl, the citizenship of the bride
must not matter. Brown’s article is dedicated to the issue of the Sicyonian marriage law and
treats this issue comprehensively.
130
assistance, Syra must choose between financial necessities and her duty to a friend and fellow
ordo-member, the group whose solidarity she demanded so vehemently just moments before. As
we would expect in light of that speech, Syra consents (106), and Selenium affirms that she has
acted accordingly for a friend: facis benigne et amice (“That’s very nice and friendly of you,”
107). Although this decision will cost Syra now, she knows that cooperation among the four
women is vital to their long-term survival. Moreover, the bonds of affection can be a strong
motivating factor in addition to or in spite of financial considerations.
iii. Friendship between two retired courtesans: Syra and Melaenis
The friendship between Syra and Melaenis is put to the test as Lampadio, Demipho’s
slave, comes nearer to discovering what happened to the baby that he abandoned on behalf of his
mistress seventeen years ago. In the process, both Syra and Melaenis face difficult decisions
about their relationships with their respective daughters. Much of the story is related by
Lampadio, who recognized Syra as the woman who picked up the abandoned baby. In a
monologue, Syra informs the audience that she gave this baby to her friend Melaenis as a donum
(133) because Melaenis had been “begging” for one for a long time:
ubi mihi potestas primum evenit, ilico
feci eiius ei quod me oravit copiam.
(137-38)
Just as soon as it was within my power, immediately I did what she had begged of me.
She takes care to show how great a favor she has done for her friend and how excited she is to
have been able to fulfill her friend’s request. Words of immediacy (ubi … primum and ilico)
show that she wasted no time in handing over the donum that she knew would make her friend
happy, and the exaggerated (or perhaps accurate) oravit indicates that, in Syra’s eyes, this was a
gift that her friend wanted very badly indeed. Syra remarks with pride that she has saved her
friend from the labor pains and midwifery fees that other women have to endure (141-42). After
131
relating the story, including the fact that Melaenis used the baby to extract money from the
foreign lover, Syra informs the audience that the whole affair is a secret between the two women:
id duae nos solae scimus, ego quae illi dedi
et illa quae a me accepit – praeter vos quidem.
(145-46)
The two of us alone are aware of this [deceit], I who gave her [the baby] and she who
received it from me – except of course you all.
Secrets are of the utmost importance in friendships. In keeping a secret for Melaenis, Syra attains
the status of confidant: having such damaging information puts her in a position of power
because she has the means to cause Melaenis social harm, but protecting that information makes
her a trusted friend.191 Syra reminds the audience of these facts when she says, ending her
monologue:
haec sic res gesta est. si quid usus venerit,
meminisse ego hanc rem vos volo. ego abeo domum.
(147-48)
That is my story. If the occasion arises, I want you to remember this story. Now I’m
going home.
Why does she want the audience to remember the story? On what occasion will it be significant?
Although the character cannot know what events are to come, the playwright does. The
foreshadowing no doubt refers to the fact that the baby’s true identity will play a central role as
the plot unfolds. Plautus is also foreshadowing something less obvious: Syra asks the audience to
witness her loyalty as a friend, because that loyalty is about to be questioned.
191
Tannen 1990: 104 observes that secrets function this way in modern American culture: “For
most women, getting together and telling about their feelings and what is happening in their lives
is at the heart of friendship. Having someone to tell your secrets to means you are not alone in
the world. But telling secrets is not an endeavor without risks. Someone who knows your secrets
has power over you: She can tell your secrets to others and create trouble for you. This is the
source of the negative image of gossip.”
132
iv. When friendship is at odds with motherhood
The problems begin when Melaenis overhears Lampadio’s conversation with his
mistress, Phanostrata, regarding the fate of Phanostrata’s abandoned baby (Selenium). He reports
that he saw a woman (Syra) and her daughter (Gymnasium) coming out of the house next door,
and he recognized that woman as the one who picked up the baby from the hippodrome (54651). Melaenis immediately becomes nervous, afraid that the truth will soon come out (551-53),
but the pressure is actually on Syra for now. Lampadio apparently mistook Gymnasium for the
suppositious child and tried to woo her away from Syra with the promise of a citizen parent and a
great dowry (556-63). Syra held onto to Melaenis’ secret as long as possible, for it was not until
Gymnasium was on the verge of being persuaded that Syra broke down and begged her to stay.
Lampadio reports:
iam perducebam illam ad me suadela mea:
anus ei amplexa est genua plorans, obsecrans
ne deserat se: eam suam esse filiam,
seque eam peperisse sancte adiurabat mihi.
“istanc quam quaeris” inquit “ego amicae meae
dedi, quae educaret eam pro filiola sua;
et vivit” inquit. “ubi ea est?” inquam extempulo.
(566-72)
As soon as I began to win the girl over with my persuasions, the old woman threw her
arms around the girl’s knees, pleading, begging the girl not to desert her: she swore a
sacred oath to me that it was her own daughter and that she had given birth to her herself.
“The one whom you seek,” she said, “I gave her to a friend of mine, to raise as her own
little daughter; and she is still alive,” she said. “Where is she?” I asked immediately.
Syra was willing to protect her friend’s secret only until her relationship with her own daughter
was threatened, at which point Syra confessed that she gave the baby to a friend. She even
volunteered the information that this woman is still alive (et vivit 572), no longer reluctant to
give information but doling it out before it is even requested. The threat to her own happiness has
made Syra suddenly prioritize her own needs, looking out for herself first and Melaenis only to
the extent that she can do so without hurting her own family. Melaenis, listening in on the report,
133
picks up on Syra’s wavering loyalty and begins to worry (573). Her fears are realized when
Lampadio says he asked Syra for the name of the woman to whom she gave the baby, and Syra
confessed meretrici Melaenidi (575). Melaenis despairs, meum elucutust nomen, interii
<oppido>! (“She divulged my name! I’m absolutely finished!” 576).
To Melaenis’ relief, Syra did not betray her completely: when Lampadio asked to be
taken to this Melaenis, Syra replied that she no longer lives in the area (577-79). Although under
pressure, Syra made a spur of the moment decision to protect her friend. It is clear to her that
Lampadio no longer believes Gymnasium is the girl he seeks; she has succeeded in directing his
attention elsewhere. No longer in danger of losing her own daughter, she can turn her attentions
back to protecting Melaenis. She has not given Lampadio enough information that he can find
Melaenis and cause her to lose her daughter. Melaenis recognizes that her friend has spared her
and expresses her relief by saying, obsipat aquolam (“A dash of cold water!” 579-80). Lampadio
reports that he persisted, demanding to be taken abroad to wherever Melaenis is (580). In his
narrative, it appears that Syra had a difficult time keeping the secret in the face of constant verbal
assault (destiti instare) and physical threats (periisti) from Lampadio:192
Quo avecta est, eo sequemur. sicine
agis nugas? periisti hercle, <ni> ***
*** <non hercle> hoc longe destiti
instare, usque adeo donec se adiurat anus
iam mihi monstrare.
(580-84)
“Wherever she went, we will follow her,” [I said]. “Are you really trying this nonsense?
You’re finished, by Hercules, if you don’t ***.” By Hercules, I did not stop harassing her
until she swore that she would point out the woman to me soon.
192
Lampadio, a slave, wants to convince his mistress that he did his job, and he undoubtedly
makes himself out to be a more formidable person than he actually is. In order to avoid
punishment, however, he actually has to do his job, and so had strong motivation to pursue Syra
as diligently as he claims.
134
Syra suffers for her loyalty to her friend, but still she keeps her secret. She compromises by
telling Lampadio she’ll take him “soon” (iam), which placates him for the moment but also
protects Melaenis for a little while longer. Lampadio reports that Syra wants to talk to a friend
“who shares an interest in the matter” first (commune quacum id esset sibi negotium, 587).
Perhaps Syra intends to give Melaenis a warning so that she can get out of town before
Lampadio finds her. Aside from her initial confession of Melaenis’ name, Syra appears to be
doing all that she can to protect Melaenis and spare her the anguish that Syra herself experienced
when Lampadio came for Gymnasium. Melaenis, however, is pessimistic:
me indicabit, et suas
ad meas miserias alias <adiunget mala
Seleniumque fraudis> faciet consciam.193
(588-90)
She’ll rat me out, and join her troubles to mine, the evil woman, and she’ll make
Selenium aware of my deception.
Perhaps because Melaenis stands to lose so much she feels she cannot afford naïve optimism.
She cannot think of a good reason why her friend would betray her, so she creates a petty motive
for Syra’s malice: misery loves company (ad meas miserias alias adiunget). Although her friend
is trying hard to protect her, Melaenis’ fear gets the best of her, giving her a suspicious mind.
Syra later proves her loyalty when she takes her entire story back, as reported by Lampadio to
Phanostrata: omnia infitiatur iam, quae dudum confessa est mihi (“Now she is denying
everything that she confessed to me earlier,” 661), but Melaenis does not know the future.
v. Mother and daughter: Melaenis and Selenium
Melaenis now struggles with the same problem that Syra originally faced, the possibility
of losing her daughter. She faces a second, perhaps more serious problem, which is that her
193
Lindsay 1903 has ad meas miserias +alias faciem consciam+ for lines 589-90. I have
reproduced the text of Schoell, which I prefer, from Lindsay’s ap. crit.
135
daughter may soon know she has been lied to about one of the most intimate aspects of her life:
where she came from. Recall that Melaenis was worried that her daughter would discover her
fraus (590): she fears that exposing years of deceit will be devastating for their relationship. She
takes charge of the situation by gathering as much information as possible, questioning
Lampadio about Selenium’s birth parents in such a way that she does not disclose her own
relationship to Selenium (597-625). She learns that Selenium’s birth father is the same Demipho
that has recently betrothed his Lemnian daughter to Alcesimarchus, Selenium’s lover (600-2).
Once she has been informed of these details, she appears to be contemplating something:
Lampadio asks her, quid nunc supina susum caelum conspicis (“Now why are you staring up at
the sky with your head bent backwards?” 622). She responds by ending the conversation and
ushering him away, saying nunc intellexi (“I understand now,” 624). For whatever reason, his
story appears to have settled things for her. While staring at the sky, she seems to have processed
the information and decided what to do. After Lampadio leaves, she announces her plan to the
audience:
nunc mihi bonae necessumst esse ingratiis,
quamquam esse nolo. rem palam esse intellego:
nunc egomet potius hanc inibo gratiam
ab illis quam illaec me indicet. ibo domum,
atque ad parentes redducam Selenium.
(626-30)
Now I must be a good woman, grudgingly, although I do not wish it. I understand that the
matter is out in the open: now I, not [Syra], will earn their good favor, rather than let her
point me out to them. I will go home and take Selenium to her parents.
Her decision may seem abrupt, given how desperately she was trying to keep this secret, but
there are several hints about her motivations. She believes full disclosure is now imminent (rem
palam esse), which changes things. In light of this fact, she decides to be bona. Her use of
necessumst, however, shows that she believes this action is the inevitable result of events. She
136
emphasizes her lack of control over the situation by claiming that that she will be bona although
she is unwilling. By claiming it is an involuntary choice, she removes from herself the
responsibility for making a difficult decision. One does not make such an attempt at justification
if truly there is no choice, no temptation to hide from the truth. The meaning of bona is difficult
to pin down, but it is clear from what follows that the bona thing to do is to return Selenium to
her parents. From this knowledge, perhaps we can interpret bona to mean revealing the truth and
taking responsibility for one’s actions, in the same way that someone who suffers from serious
guilt feels relief when she finally confesses her crime. Melaenis is relieved that her story has
finally come out and her involvement is about to be discovered. For years she has dealt with the
emotional toil of her deceit, but could not bring herself to admit everything when it would only
cause pain to herself and possibly her daughter. Now she tells herself that someone else has
forced her hand, and it brings her consolation to know that, in the end, she herself was not
responsible for causing the truth to come out, with all of the pain and suffering that potentially
follows. Getting credit for the reunion appears to be an afterthought: she has decided to be bona,
and takes consolation in the fact that at least this decision will bring her some good favor
(gratiam).
When Melaenis tells her daughter the whole story, she conveys a sense of moral
obligation, indicating that her decision was made in her daughter’s best interest:
rem elocuta sum tibi omnem; sequeren, mea Selenium,
ut eorum quoiam esse oportet te sis potius quam mea?
quamquam invita te carebo, animum ego inducam tamen
ut illud <quod minus meam> quam tuam in rem bene conducat consulam. (631-34)
I explained the entire matter to you. Will you follow me, my Selenium, so that you may
be theirs, the ones whom you ought to be with, rather than mine. Although I give you up
unwillingly, nevertheless I will resolve to operate in such a way that this matter turns out
well less for me than for you.
137
She has moved from necessumst (it is the natural outcome), to oportet: it is the right thing to do.
Selenium belongs with her birth parents. It is not just objectively right, but it will also benefit
Selenium. Despite the textual difficulties in line 634, the meaning is clear: Melaenis is willing to
suffer personally because she knows this decision is in Selenium’s best interest. Since she does
not specify how this will help her daughter, we must speculate based on what information she
acquired before making her decision. Firstly, while listening to Lampadio’s story of how he tried
to woo Gymnasium, Melaenis learned that Demipho plans to offer his birth daughter a very
comfortable living and a considerable dowry:
{LAMPADIO to Gymnasium} ego te redduco et voco ad <summas> ditias,
ubi tu locere in luculentam familiam,
unde tibi talenta magna viginti pater
det dotis;
(559-62)
I am bringing you back and summoning you to the greatest riches, where you will be
placed into a distinguished family, from which your father plans to give you a
magnificent dowry of twenty talents.
Lampadio offered an attractive alternative to prostitution (562-63), and his argument was enough
to at least tempt Gymnasium. It would have been equally attractive to Selenium, and a life that
Melaenis would desire for her daughter. Konstan feels that this is the driving force behind
Melaenis’ decision to return Selenium to her birth parents. Not only can Demipho provide
Selenium with more financial security, Melaenis also understands that “Demipho’s child will be
immune to the kind of arbitrary rejection that the daughter of Melaenis must fear.”194 The second
piece of information that Melaenis acquired before making her decision is that Selenium’s father,
Demipho, is the same Demipho who betrothed his Lemnian daughter to Alcesimarchus (599602). In her conversation with Lampadio, Melaenis made a special effort to verify those points
194
Konstan 1983: 107. Konstan makes Melaenis’ wounded pride a major theme of the play,
pointing out that, because of her social status, Melaenis has no choice but to suffer the
disrespectful treatment of Alcesimarchus’ oath breaking.
138
before extracting at length the details of the lost daughter’s parentage (602-22). This exchange
sets up the audience’s expectation that Demipho will betroth his Sicyonian daughter, instead of
his Lemnian daughter, to Alcesimarchus, but I do not think Melaenis would make the same
conclusion from this conversation. In New Comedy, the audience is expected to have more
knowledge about the outcome than the characters. Demipho and Alcesimarchus’ father want to
socially join their two households by marrying their children to each other; this goal can be
equally accomplished with either of Demipho’s daughters. A certain part of the entertainment
value comes from the fact that we know that Melaenis’ decision will ultimately result in
Selenium’s marriage to Alcesimarchus, but we must watch Melaenis struggle to make her
choices without that knowledge. She may, however, suspect that Selenium’s prospects for
marriage to Alcesimarchus will be better once her citizen parentage is revealed. She understands
that she will receive no benefit from handing over her daughter (minus meam), but she is willing
to make that decision anyway, putting her foster daughter’s financial security and happiness
above her own.
vi. Citizens, courtesans, and slaves: cross-class relationships
Many kinds of reward are not open to Melaenis, but members of disadvantaged social
and economic classes might obtain credit or goodwill from someone in a more advantageous
position. Unless one is a suppositious child with citizen parents waiting to be discovered, the
courtesan lot in life, like the slave lot, is fixed. The meretrix, Melaenis, and the her slave,
Halisca, are motivated by the possibility of small rewards, such as comes from the favor of
someone socially superior, but in order to receive such rewards they must get the credit for a
good deed. In Melaenis’ case, she is trying to earn the gratitude of a citizen woman, and in
Halisca’s case, she is trying to earn the gratitude, and avoid the wrath, of her mistress. This is
139
why Melaenis decides that she should personally introduce Selenium to the matrona Phanostrata,
rather than let Syra point her out. Similarly, Halisca and Lampadio vie for credit for the reunion,
and at the same time fear punishment for any hindrances they might create. Halisca is charged by
her mistress with the important task of arranging a meeting between Melaenis and Phanostrata so
that Selenium’s identity can be revealed (635-37). Melaenis gives her a casket (cistella) with
identifying tokens, the same casket that was found with Selenium seventeen years before, to take
to Phanostrata when she arranges the meeting. When Halisca embarks on the errand, she
encounters Alcesimarchus in the midst of a passionate threat to commit suicide unless he can be
with Selenium. Selenium becomes distressed and begs Melaenis and Halisca to stop him from
killing himself, but he snatches Selenium and carries her into their apartment before anyone can
intervene. During the commotion, Halisca accidentally puts the casket down and forgets about it.
When she discovers her mistake (after Melaenis has left the stage), she gives a long monologue
lamenting her inevitable and severe punishment (671-94). Fear is a powerful motivator in her
actions. The knowledge that one could be physically abused for any mistake or even perceived
mistake must have been an ever-present factor in the relationship between a slave and her
mistress. Halisca is motivated by a negative: she has lost something –a physical object but also
her potential standing with her mistress – and now works to regain it. She knows she will suffer
unless she corrects her error. Lampadio, on the other hand, starts off the scene in a neutral
position with his mistress (Phanostrata), and is motivated by the wish for rewards. A slave never
has very good standing, but he can become more valuable and gain better treatment by helping
other people get what they want. When Halisca discovers that Lampadio found and took the
casket, they enter into a heated negotiation because of the symbolic value it holds for each: the
contents mean nothing to Halisca, but not having the casket will cause her to incur the wrath of
140
her mistress; the contents mean nothing to Lampadio, but since Halisca wants it, he knows he
can use it to obtain a favor from Halisca. As they negotiate, Lampadio says he is not looking for
argentum, but an operam bonam (739). Money would have limited value to him, but a favor
might help him change his standing with his mistress, bringing him better treatment for a time.
Halisca replies that she “does no favors for free” (nulla opera gratuita est 740). In other words,
they are coming to an agreement that she will do him an opera bona if and only if he gives her
the casket. Phanostrata, who has been present for the entire conversation, ends the bargaining
process by announcing that they indeed have the casket (741-42). Thanks to the conversation she
just witnessed, Phanostrata realizes that Halisca knows to whom the casket belongs. Lampadio
no longer has any power in this relationship: all his work for a favor from Halisca was for
naught, because his mistress took control of the situation by revealing the information that
Halisca was seeking.
Our attention now shifts to the relationship between Halisca and Phanostrata. Although
socially and economically inferior, Halisca has something that Phanostrata needs, and so
Phanostrata makes Halisca “a partner in [Phanostrata’s] salvation” (sociam te mihi adopto ad
meam salutem, 744). Phanostrata becomes emotionally dependent upon a slave because this
particular slave has the power to reunite her with her daughter. Halisca, however, is still
concerned primarily with her relationship with her own mistress: unless she fulfills her orders (to
use the casket as bait to arrange a meeting with Phanostrata), there may be repercussions. Once
Halisca has explained everything, she asks Phanostrata for her reward: quid? qua<esti partem
dimid>iam quaero meam (“Well? I seek my half of the reward,” 757). Lampadio, of course,
chimes in asking for his third of the reward (758), still hoping for some perks based on his role in
141
finding the casket. When Phanostrata ignores the requests, Halisca appeals to her sense of
fairness and compassion:
aequom est <reponi> per fidem quod creditum est,
ne bene merenti sit malo benignitas.
nostra haec alumna est, tua profecto filia:
et redditura est tuam tibi, et ea gratia
domo profecta est. ceterum ex ipsa opsecro,
exquaeritote: ego serva sum.
(760-65)
It is only fair that what was trusted to you in good faith be returned, lest the kindness of
one deserving well turn out to be a source of harm. She is our foster daughter, your
daughter certainly: and she will be returned to you, and my mistress set out from home
for that very purpose. About the rest, I beg you, question her yourself: I’m just the
servant.
All Halisca wants is the casket so that she can avoid getting into trouble. She does not want to be
part of the drama of the once-lost-now-found daughter: she thinks it is more appropriate that the
two citizen women talk about those details. She says, “I’m just the servant,” that is, she is just
doing what her mistress asked. She knows that Melaenis wants credit for the reunion, credit with
a socially superior citizen, and it is her job to help make sure that Melaenis gets that credit. In
order for Halisca to maintain her good standing with her mistress, she has to help Melaenis
obtain a good standing with Phanostrata. Phanostrata agrees that Halisca’s request for the return
of the casket is fair, but fears that if she parts with it, she might lose the chance to reconnect with
her daughter. The casket is her only physical link to her long-lost child, and she clings to it as an
emotional substitute. She understands that Halisca knows how to find her daughter, and she can
see that Halisca will not leave without the casket. Lampadio therefore comes up with a solution
to satisfy all – all except himself, but maybe he hopes that if he continues to be helpful, his
mistress will reward him: Phanostrata gives the casket back to Halisca, satisfying Halisca’s
wishes, but Phanostrata follows Halisca to meet Melaenis, which means that Phanostrata never
has to let the only link to her daughter out of sight. This will satisfy Melaenis’ orders, too,
142
because Melaenis and Phanostrata will meet and Melaenis can get credit for giving Selenium
back to her birth mother. Everybody is happy, and three relationships are improved.
vii. Summary
The relationships between Halisca and Melaenis and their social superiors are contrasted
with the solidarity of the ordo eulogized by Syra in the opening of the play. The slave has limited
power when dealing with her mistress, and a courtesan has limited power when dealing with a
citizen. Trust across class lines is not high, but cooperation can sometimes be achieved when the
social inferior has something that her superior wants and the latter is in a position to reward the
former. The antagonism that Syra anticipated in her speech was not realized, since Phanostrata
and Melaenis were able to overcome their distrust to cooperate. Plautus, and likely his
Menandrian model the Synaristosai, has created a number of relationships that defy the
expectations of literary stereotypes. The matronae and meretrices behave civilly towards each
other, working together to achieve a common goal. The meretrices do have to consider financial
necessity, but they frequently put emotional concerns ahead of these necessities: Selenium would
rather starve than be unfaithful to her lover; Melaenis is willing to let her daughter go – and with
her, the income that Melaenis might get by hiring her out to multiple lovers – in order to see her
daughter happy and more financially secure than Melaenis could ever be; and Syra and
Gymnasium are willing to sacrifice three days’ pay to help out a dear friend. In fact, the most
prominent feature in these relationships is not their status as meretrices, but their roles as virtual
sisters (Gymnasium and Selenium), friends, mothers, daughters, and lovers. Plautus portrays
them in a very human light, focusing on the bonds of family and friendship, while demonstrating
how these relationships are tested by the economic situation of the courtesan life.
143
E. Terence’s Eunuch: Affection for a Foster Sister
For the final play of this chapter we move from Plautus to Terence. In the Eunuch, based
on Menander’s Eunouchos and Kolax, I examine the relationship between the meretrix Thais and
her foster sister, Pamphila, who is several years younger than Thais. The fact that they were
raised as sisters created a bond of affection between the two, but unlike the previous plays, Thais
and Pamphila have always been aware that Pamphila is a citizen. Thais has chosen to respect
Pamphila’s birth status, rather than exploit her potential as a courtesan. Unlike the sisters of the
Bacchides, these two are not bound together by ties of blood, and unlike the older sister of the
Bacchides and the mothers of the Asinaria and Cistellaria, Thais knows that Pamphila will never
contribute any income to the family. Thais has recently moved from Rhodes to Athens and relies
on two lovers for support: Phaedria, of modest income, and a rather wealthy soldier named
Thraso. She must balance her need for financial support with her desire to reunite her pseudosister, Pamphila, with her birth family.
Pamphila was kidnapped by pirates as a small girl, purchased by a merchant, and given to
Thais’ mother, presumably also a meretrix, as a gift. Pamphila and Thais were raised as sisters,
but when their mother died, control of the estate fell to Thais’ uncle, who decided to sell
Pamphila because of her beauty and musical skills. Fortunately for Thais, the soldier Thraso
bought Pamphila, not knowing her connection to Thais, and intends to give Pamphila to Thais as
a gift. Thais hopes to get possession of her sister in order to restore her to her citizen family, but
she also wants to keep Phaedria and Thraso as paying lovers. In order to accomplish all of her
goals, Thais must juggle her two lovers in a way that keeps the jealousy of both at bay. While
Thraso is still in possession of Pamphila, he hesitates to give her to Thais because he believes
Thais cares for Phaedria more; he is therefore not in the mood to give Thais such an expensive
144
gift. In order to placate Thraso, Thais intends to shut Phaedria out for a brief period and give
Thraso her undivided attention. Phaedria is upset about being sent away, but Thais tries to
explain that she has to shut him out against her own wishes (95-97).195 She tells him the story of
her sister and explains that she needs to concentrate solely on Thraso if he is to hand over the girl
as promised.
There are many things that Thais wants and needs for herself and for her sister, but she
cannot fulfill all of these desires without some conflicts. First, I will address her emotional and
financial relationship with her two lovers, Phaedria and Thraso. She harbors genuine affection
for Phaedria, and he supplies her with some income, but not enough to meet all of her needs.196
The sincerity of her attachment is demonstrated by her monologue, after he has departed the
stage, in which she tells the audience:
ego pol, quae mihi sum conscia, hoc certo scio
neque me finxisse falsi quicquam neque meo
cordi esse quemquam cariorem hoc Phaedria.
(199-201)
By Pollux, my conscience and I know this for certain: I have invented no falsehood and that
there is no one dearer to my heart than Phaedria.
She displays her love for Phaedria by confiding in him at the start of the play, sharing her
dilemma regarding her sister. By bringing him into her confidence, she makes him feel as if he is
the one true object of her affection, a person whom she can truly rely on emotionally. We might
suspect that she is flattering him were it not for her confession to the audience. Phaedria,
however, is unable to supply her with sufficient income. In an effort to prove that he does not
195
Line numbers and text of the Eunuch are from Kauer and Lindsay 1926.
On account of her genuine affection for Phaedria, most scholars who are inclined to enter the
good whore/ bad whore debate classify Thais as a good whore. Gilula 1980: 164 argues that,
while she was created out of the mala meretrix stock-type, Terence makes her genuinely love
Phaedria; therefore Gilula classifies Thais as one of Plutarch’s “loving-in-return” courtesans (see
above, p. 104). Gruen 1991: 170 calls her a meretrix mixta: “externally mala by dint of her
profession but predominantly bona by virtue of her character.”
196
145
deserve to be cast aside for Thraso, Phaedria recently purchased a maid and a eunuch for Thais
(163-69), but his gifts pale in comparison to Thraso’s. We must suppose that Thais tolerates the
waning of his beneficence in recent months on account of her feelings for him. She needs the
additional support of a lover like Thraso, who is a successful mercenary soldier and has not yet
depleted his wealth, as Phaedria has. For these reasons, then, both financial and emotional, Thais
has strong motives to maintain a good relationship with both lovers.
Thais also needs to keep Thraso in her good graces because he still has possession of
Pamphila. Thais gives several reasons for wanting to be reunited with Pamphila, including
affection and self-interest. When she takes Phaedria into her confidence, she tells him:
nunc ego eam, mi Phaedria,
multae sunt causae quam ob rem cupio abducere:
primum quod soror est dicta; praeterea ut suis
restituam ac reddam. sola sum; habeo hic neminem
neque amicum neque cognatum: quam ob rem, Phaedria,
cupio aliquos parere amicos beneficio meo.
(144-49)
Now, my Phaedria, there are many reasons why I desire that she be returned to me: first,
because she is said to be my sister; furthermore, so that I may restore and return her to
her family. I am alone; I have no one here, neither a friend nor relative: for this reason,
Phaedria, I desire to procure some friends for my benefit.
The first reason she gives is her sentimental attachment to the girl who was raised as her sister,
even though they are not biological siblings (hence, she is only “called” – dicta – her sister). The
second reason she gives is a practical one: by restoring Pamphila to her citizen family, Thais
hopes to acquire an Athenian patron. Because she has no social support in Athens, and because
she is a meretrix, she can only hope to gain the protection of a citizen family out of gratitude.
After Phaedria leaves the stage, Thais confesses a third motive in a monologue:
et quidquid huius feci causa virginis
feci; nam me eius fratrem spero propemodum
iam repperisse, adulescentem adeo nobilem;
et is hodie venturum ad me constituit domum.
146
(202-5)
Anything that I’ve done I’ve done for the sake of the girl: for I hope that I have already
found her brother, such a noble young man; and he has arranged to come to my house
today.
Her final stated motive is causa viriginis: although she does not elaborate, this confession, given
alone onstage, represents her truest motive, to help Pamphila. Her affection for her foster-sister is
strong: she is unhappy that Pamphila was sold into slavery (at 134, she says it was “fortunate” –
fortuna – that the soldier bought Pamphila immediately after she was put on the market), and she
shares with Phaedria her anxiety about protecting Pamphila’s virginity (144-45). Thus she seems
to be putting effort into protecting Pamphila’s prospects for a better life. While this is her
primary motive, Thais’ efforts also protect her own chances of gaining a citizen patron.
All of these goals create conflicts for Thais. She wants and needs to keep both lovers as
paying customers, but each one desires for Thais to prove that he alone holds the number one
spot in her heart. In addition, she wants to gain possession of her sister, who must remain a
respectable virgin, but she is currently relegated to the unrespectable role of music girl and slave.
Although Thraso has promised to hand Pamphila over as long as Phaedria stays away, he still has
the power to tarnish Pamphila’s reputation in the meantime by treating her like the music girl he
believes her to be. For her own sake, Thais wants nothing more than to please Thraso in order to
keep his business, but for Pamphila’s sake, Thais must sometimes object to his wishes in order to
preserve Pamphila’s reputation. Thraso does allow Pamphila to stay in Thais’ house, but Thais
worries that Thraso, who is has legally purchased Pamphila, will take her back. Jealous of
Phaedria, Thraso decides that when Thais pays attention to another man, he will increase his
attentions towards Pamphila – an acceptable situation if she were truly a slave, but wildly
inappropriate if she is a citizen. The problem comes to a head when Thais attends a dinner party
at Thraso’s house, and she receives word that Pamphila’s brother, Chremes, has arrived in
147
response to her summons. Thais understands that inviting Chremes inside will make the soldier
jealous, but she cannot risk Chremes losing patience with her and severing communication. She
decides to do it anyway, and Thraso retaliates by asking the servants to call for Pamphila to
entertain them. Thais is outraged because Pamphila’s appearance at a dinner party will tarnish
her reputation: to act as a courtesan is to be a courtesan. When she objects, it further enrages
Thraso because he concludes, incorrectly, that Thais is jealous. Thais treads on thin ice, but she
still hopes that she can please Thraso enough that he will allow Pamphila to remain with her.
While Thais concentrates her efforts on protecting Pamphila from Thraso and ill repute,
Chaerea, the younger brother of Phaedria, gains access to Thais’ house in the guise of a eunuch
and rapes the girl. When her handmaids, Pythias and Dorias, discover the rape, they are upset at
the trauma she has been through, and angry with the impious scoundrel (illum scelerosum atque
impium, 643) who dared to commit the crime. Pythias expresses shock at Chaerea’s daring (644),
reports that he tore Pamphila’s dress and hair during the rape (645-46), and expresses a desire to
take physical revenge upon him by clawing his eyes out (647-48). As the maids share in the
protection of the girl before her rape – not because they know her status, but because Thais has
charged them with that duty (curate istam diligenter virginem, 505) – so after the rape they share
her distress. Pythias is so moved by the tragedy that she cannot bring herself to speak of the rape
directly when she finally has the chance to inform Thais (818-33). Sharon James has noted that
Terence’s Eunuch is unusual in the attention it pays to the emotional and physical trauma of
rape.197 He shares this feature with Menander (but not Plautus198), in whose Epitrepontes
197
198
James 1998: 31-32.
Pierce 1997: 176.
148
Habrotonon describes a rape that she witnessed with similar attention to the violent details.199
Pythias’ description in Eunuch has another effect, though: it shows us the strong empathy that
these slave women feel for a fellow slave girl whom they have only just met. Pythias and the
older women were given the responsibility of protecting Pamphila, a beautiful and rather young
girl who had just been introduced to the household. Perhaps they felt a motherly sense of duty to
watch out for the inexperienced slave girl entrusted to them. When she suffers a violent and
traumatic rape, they are upset because this is the type of horror from which they wanted to
protect her. While the slave women are upset by how the rape affects Pamphila personally, only
Thais will be worried about how the rape affects her marriageability, because only Thais is aware
of Pamphila’s citizen status.
Thais is at first unaware of the rape because it happened while she was at Thraso’s dinner
party. She anticipates trouble from a different source, however, because she realizes that the
arrival of Chremes has provoked the jealous anger of Thraso, and she fears that he will come to
her house to reclaim Pamphila (739). Ever conscious of her many goals, she adapts quickly,
bringing Chremes up to date so that he can help her protect Pamphila. She believes, with good
reason, that if she can convince Chremes that Pamphila is his sister, he will be inspired to stand
up to Thraso and prevent Pamphila’s abduction. Thais tells Chremes hanc tibi dono do neque
repeto pro illa quicquam abs te preti (“I give her to you as a gift and do not ask for any money
from you in return for her,” 749). She does not mention any desire for non-monetary rewards,
such as patronage or favors. By giving the gift freely, she is making a wise decision: if she
exchanges Pamphila for money, then the transaction is complete and Chremes has no debt of
199
Omitowoju 2002: 174 suggests that such descriptions of violence are intended to signal to the
audience that this was a forcible rape against a non-consenting girl, rather than a seduction.
Richlin 1992: 168 suggests that the focus on a woman’s fear in Ovid’s rape scenes is intended to
make her seem more desirable.
149
obligation to her. If she gives Pamphila as a gift, she is starting a friendship of mutual favors. In
fact, Chremes replies et habetur et referetur, Thais, ita uti merita es gratia (“I am grateful and I
will return the favor, Thais, as you deserve,” 750). He accepts her gesture as the beginning of a
friendship and understands that he now owes a favor in return.
Thais is all too aware that she and her handmaids are not physically capable of warding
off a group of trained soldiers. Chremes alone is no match for the men, and in fact he attempts to
slip out and gather a group of friends before Thraso arrives. Thais stops him, hoping that
Chremes’ citizen status alone will prevent Thraso from attacking him. She tells Chremes:
immo hoc cogitato: quicum res tibist peregrinus est,
minus potens quam tu, minus notus, minus amicorum hic habens.
(759-60)
Rather, think about this: the man you have to deal with is a foreigner, less powerful than
you, less known, and having fewer friends here.
Her comment underscores her own precarious position in Athens and shows the need of having
citizen male connections in Athens. She is disappointed at Chremes’ apparent lack of courage,
but her options are limited, so she chooses to coach Chremes into being a more effective
champion (765-69). She will make the best use of the only possible patron she can hope to have.
As is not uncommon in New Comedy, Thais’ actions lead to a positive outcome in ways
that she did not anticipate. When she learns of Pamphila’s rape, she does not go to her sister,
comfort her, or express distress at the pain she has suffered. Rather, she focuses her energy on
the practical matter of salvaging the situation for her sister’s sake and for her own: Chremes will
owe her no favors if she restores his sister to him having been violated. When Thais learns who
the rapist is (Phaedria’s brother) and how he gained access to the girl, she is ashamed at having
been fooled (dispudet mihi, 832-33), but she takes comfort in the fact that they immediately
locate the perpetrator (834). This gives her the chance to control the situation before word gets
150
out and Pamphila’s reputation is ruined. When Thais confronts Chaerea, he is a little sheepish
but does not try to hide what he has done, since he thinks he has committed a minor infraction
and is willing to admit it (850-60). Thais informs Chaerea how his actions have affected her
plans for herself and for her sister:
neque edepol quid nunc consili capiam scio
de virgine istac: ita conturbasti mihi
rationes omnis, ut eam non possim suis
ita ut aequom fuerat atque ut studui tradere,
ut solidum parerem hoc mi beneficium, Chaerea.
(867-71)
By Pollux, now I don’t know how I can carry out my plan for the girl: you have really
disturbed all of my plans, such that I cannot restore her to her family in a way that is fair
and in the way I desired, so that I might procure for myself a guaranteed favor, Chaerea.
This brings us back to two of Thais’ stated motives from earlier in the play: doing the right thing
for Pamphila, and restoring her in a way that will earn Thais a solidum beneficium. It is fair and
just (aequom) to Pamphila to protect her reputation and give her the best possible chance for a
secure future. Chaerea responds by turning the tables: Thais can no longer place Chremes in her
debt, but Chaerea places himself in Thais’ debt:
at nunc dehinc spero aeternam inter nos gratiam
fore, Thais. saepe ex huiusmodi re quapiam et
malo principio magna familiaritas
conflatast. quid si hoc quispiam voluit deus?
(872-75)
But now I hope that there can be everlasting favor between us on account of this matter,
Thais. Often from this sort of thing and from bad beginnings the spark of a great
friendship arises. What if some god willed this to happen?
Chaerea invites Thais into a permanent relationship of mutual favors. Thais, as head of her
household, has the authority to enter into such a friendship, but Chaerea is not in a position to
commit his father’s household to the same friendship. Nonetheless, he now understands that he
has committed a grave offense. What is more, he is desperately in love (at least in his own mind:
the reader might question whether rape counts as love) and requires a protector to help him
151
escape punishment and secure the girl he desires. He entrusts himself completely to Thais, asking
her to help arrange his marriage to Pamphila:
nunc ego te in hac re mi oro ut adiutrix sies,
ego me tuae commendo et committo fidei,
te mihi patronam capio, Thais, te obsecro:
emoriar si non hanc uxorem duxero.
(885-88)
Now I beg you to be my helper in the matter, I entrust myself and commit myself to your
protection, I take you as my patron, Thais, I beg you: I will die if I do not marry this girl.
Although he does not have the authority to offer his family’s assistance, Thais heeds his pleas
and helps arrange his marriage to the girl. It is, she understands, her best chance at salvaging the
situation. Now that Pamphila has been raped, her rapist is the only possible husband if the rape
becomes known. Thais can restore her to her brother with arrangements for a respectable citizen
marriage. Meanwhile, Chaerea has placed himself in her debt directly, but his family will also be
grateful: the rapist of a citizen girl is liable to serious legal penalties, unless both families agree
to a marriage between the perpetrator and victim. By getting Chremes to consent to this
marriage, Thais has done a favor not just to Chaerea, but to his father. In fact, Chaerea confirms
that Thais’ assistance has put her in the good graces of his own family: Thais patri se
commendavit, in clientelam et fidem | nobis dedit se (“Thais entrusted herself to my father, and
gave herself over to our patronage and our protection,” 1039-40). She now has the protected
status of client in their household.200 In the end, Chremes could not offer her much, but
Chaerea’s family could and did, out of gratitude for keeping Chaerea out of trouble. It is a good
thing that Thais chose to work with Chaerea instead of against him; although she could not be
200
The language of patronage (cliens, fides) is perhaps a compliment to Thais who, as a
courtesan, does not participate in the patronage system in the way that citizen men do. Pepe
1972: 143-44 draws attention to the fact that, although one can technically be both a client and a
patron, in reality, it is incongruous for Thais to both be in the protection of Chaerea’s father and
be the protector of Chaerea.
152
assured that this action would result in a citizen patron for her, she understood that it was her
best chance for citizen gratitude and Pamphila’s best chance for a good life.
Unlike the courtesans of the previous three plays I examined, Thais does not have a
fellow courtesan with whom she can share the burden of financially supporting herself, but this is
by choice: she decides not exploit the potential earning power of her foster sister, who is, in the
eyes of the world, a fellow courtesan. Rather, out of sisterly affection and a shrewd business
sense, she decides to go for a more permanent but harder to achieve solution. By finding a citizen
patron, she can obtain long-term financial support for herself, even though her interactions with
Thraso and Phaedria show us that she is quite capable of juggling the multiple customers who are
required to fully support a courtesan. By restoring her sister to her family and facilitating a
citizen marriage, she achieves what is financially and socially the best possible outcome for
Pamphila. She also places her sister in a family with which she now has long-term ties, allowing
the women who bonded as sisters to remain in close contact in the future. As an attractive young
woman skilled in music, Pamphila could have earned a great deal of money as a meretrix,
income which would have been enjoyed jointly by herself and Thais. Despite her own economic
needs, Thais decides not to capitalize on this obvious source of income and instead put
Pamphila’s security ahead of her own. Perhaps it is Thais’ awareness of the difficulty and
uncertainty in her own life that leads her to choose a better life for her foster sister.
F. Conclusion
By reading against the dominant view (certainly the dominant view in modern
scholarship, if not the ancient view), I’ve shown that the women of these plays are defined first
and foremost by their relationships to their mothers, daughters, sisters, and friends, rather than as
meretrices, defined by their relationships to men. Menander, Plautus, and Terence create female
153
characters who are not bound by stereotypes but continue to frustrate the expectations created by
literary conventions. The sisters of the Bacchides have a tender and supportive relationship,
much like the one we will see between citizen sisters in Plautus’ Stichus, to be discussed in
Chapter 5. The young girls of Cistellaria are as close as sisters despite being unrelated, and
Thais’ relationship with Pamphila is characterized by the fact that they were raised as sisters, not
the fact that they were raised as courtesans. Elder sisters, such as Thais and Bacchis (of the
Bacchides) look out for their younger siblings, Thais by securing a citizen marriage for
Pamphila, and Bacchis by finding a way to keep Soror close at hand and under her protection. As
the person responsible for Pamphila’s future, Thais behaves much like the mothers in Asinaria
and Cistellaria by trying to do what is best for the girl, even when this means handing over a
beloved family member to her citizen parents, as Melaenis does with Selenium (Cistellaria).
When the girl is truly a courtesan, and not a citizen foundling, a mother might struggle to balance
the daughter’s happiness with the harsh reality of financial necessity, as Cleareta (Asinaria) and
Syra (Cistellaria) did. Finally, common station and years of familiarity creates the same kind of
friendship in courtesans (Gymnasium and Selenium, as well as Syra and Melaenis, of
Cistellaria) as in citizen women, as we will see in Chapter 5 (particularly Cleostrata and
Myrrhina in the Casina).
154
Chapter 5: Ethical Deliberation by Women in New Comedy
In this final chapter I examine instances of ethical deliberation by women of various
classes in New Comedy. In these instances, women weigh their options over choices that might
affect their relationships with other women. These relationships might be between citizens –
including sisters, friends, mother-daughter pairs, and in-laws – or across classes, such as between
citizen women and courtesans or concubines. Some of the needs and wants of citizen women are
the same as those we saw with the courtesans of Chapter 4: strong bonds of affection between
family members and friends make citizen women willing to take certain risks on behalf of those
they love. The way in which citizen women achieve security, however, has a profound affect on
their relationships and the decisions that they make regarding those relationships. Whereas a
courtesan seeks financial security by entering into as many lucrative sexual relationships as
possible, a young citizen woman seeks social and financial stability through a respectable citizen
marriage and the production of a male heir; married women with grown children, meanwhile, are
relatively secure both socially and financially, but seek harmony in their relationships with
spouses, children, and friends.
In my reading of Plautus’ Stichus, I will demonstrate how two citizen sisters settle their
minor differences, both out of a desire to have a harmonious relationship and because they must
unite if they are to oppose their father. Next, with Plautus’ Casina, I demonstrate how two
citizen women, who are neighbors and friends, weather discord in their friendship, which is
ultimately strong. In Terence’s Hecyra, I look at several intertwined relationships among a
recently married citizen girl, her mother, her mother-in-law, and her husband’s exclusive
courtesan, examining the social risks taken and decisions made by each woman. Two plays of
Menander, the Epitrepontes and Samia, similarly involve a mix of women of very different
155
social statuses but whose lives are intertwined in one small, complex social network. While the
characters and circumstances of each of the three plays are slightly different, together they give
us a picture of how different social statuses affect the practical and emotional needs of women.
A. Plautus’ Stichus: Sisters, Wives, and Daughters (in that Order)
In this play I examine the relationship between two sisters, Panegyris and Pamphila, who
work together to oppose their father’s wishes.201 While a didascalic note to the Stichus names
Menander’s Adelphoi as the source of this play, the newly discovered Antioch mosaic confirms
that it is based on the Adelphoi/Philadelphoi of Menander.202 Unfortunately we have but a few
fragments of that play and are unable to examine Menander’s treatment of the relationship
between the two sisters.203 In the Stichus, the women experience economic hardship because
their husbands, who are brothers, have been abroad for two years. Their father, Antipho, believes
it is in his daughters’ best interest to remarry. Despite minor disagreements about their situation,
the two sisters desire to work together and have a harmonious relationship, and they provide each
other with valuable emotional support. Poster neatly sums up why these two women have
captured so much scholarly attention:
The play opens with a dialogue between Panegyris and her sister, two young married
women who are both intelligent, witty, decent, and loyal to their husbands. They are not
autocratic matrons, silly girls, or grasping prostitutes; instead, they are as charming a pair
of heroines as might be found in any author.204
I will show that the women act first and foremost in accordance with their identities as sisters,
then as wives, and lastly as daughters.
201
For the name of the second sister, Lindsay 1903 follows the Ambrosian palimpsest, which has
“Pamphila” in the scene I.1 header, but that name does not go back to Plautus (Arnott 1972: 74
n.2).
202
Gutzwiller 2011. A didascalic note to Stichus names Menander’s Adelphoi as the Greek
source of this play.
203
For the fragments of Menander’s Adelphoi, see Kassel and Austin 1998: 45-53.
204
Poster 1995: 315.
156
When the sisters discuss their situation in the opening scene, a minor disagreement about
how to deal with it creates tension in the relationship. Panegyris compares them to Penelopes,
since they suffer the long absence of their husbands and feel the pressure of maintaining a
household alone (1-6). The comparison allows Pamphila to introduce her main argument, duty
(officium), a theme that can be mapped onto Penelope’s story.205 She tells Panegyris that, like
that heroine, it is their duty to endure their husbands’ absences:
nostrum officium
nos facere aequomst,
neque id magis facimus
quam nos monet pietas.
7
7a
8
8a
It is right that we do our duty, and we do no more than what piety bids us.
Her gentle admonishment indicates a conflict between the two women, since Pamphila believes
that it is not right to complain. She then transitions to a related topic: their father’s desire to find
them new husbands. She argues that he is currently executing his duty (officium, 14) in an
immoral way (improbus, 14).206 A serious crime in her eyes, she feels strongly about his actions
and is tormented (crucior, 11). Panegyris feels sympathy for her sister and tries to comfort her:
ne lacruma, soror, neu tuo id animo
fac quod tibi tuos pater facere minatur:
spes est eum melius facturum.
(20-22)
Don’t cry, sister, and do not yourself create the mental anguish that your father threatens
to create: there is hope that he will act better.
She tries to alleviate her sister’s distress by telling her that it will not be as bad as she expects.
First, she waives off the accusation, claiming that their father must be joking when he says he
205
Morality, particularly ius and officium, is a major theme of the play, not limited to the
arguments of Soror. See Petrone 1977 for an illustration of how this moral message is used and
abused in the three separate story lines of the play. Soror uses the language of morality in
particularly high concentration: she mentions aequus and officium six times each. See Arnott
1972: 57 for the full catalogue of moral language in Soror’s speech.
206
Latin text for the Stichus and Casina is taken from Lindsay 1903.
157
plans to break their marriages (23). Next, she admits that he might be serious, but they should not
object because his decision is justified (27-30). She resents that their husbands have been away
for so long and does not feel the same sense of duty as her sister. The gentle social
admonishment goes both ways: both women are notably upset by what each feels is a serious
issue, but neither receives validation from the other. Panegyris wants someone to confirm that it
is okay to resent her husband’s absence, and Pamphila wants someone to confirm that their father
is unjustified. For each woman the natural person to seek out for this reassurance is her sister:
they share a bond not just because they are in the exact same situation, but because they are
family. Their long-standing blood relationship provides them with the security they seek to
express their innermost fears and confess a desire to do some very socially unapproved things:
leave one’s husband, or disobey one’s father.
The two women do not remain in disagreement for long, partly because Pamphila
actively works to bring the two to a mutual understanding. She echoes Panegyris’ lament that the
men have been away two years (30); she is clearly suffering, too, and she understands her sister’s
pain. Panegyris continues to explain her sorrows, a particular source of distress being they do not
know whether their husbands are safe and when they plan to come home (31-33). Pamphila
deduces that Panegyris’ loyalty is wavering because she believes her husband’s failure to
communicate is a dereliction of duty:
{SO} an id doles, soror, quia illi suom officium
non colunt, quom tu tuom facis? {PA} ita pol.
34-35
36
{SO} Is this why you are upset, sister? Because they do not do their duty, but you do
yours?
{PA} Yes! That’s exactly it.
Now Soror is getting somewhere: she understands that her sister’s resistance comes from
resentment, and this allows her to craft a targeted argument. She first tries to silence Panegyris
158
(tace sis, cave sis audiam ego istuc | posthac ex te, “Quiet! May I never hear those words from
you again!” 37-38). The quick command for silence reflects her belief that her sister has said
something socially unacceptable.207 Pamphila explains that one’s sense of duty is absolute; it is
not conditional upon someone else fulfilling his duty:
quia pol meo animo omnis sapientis
suom officium aequom est colere et facere.
quam ob rem ego te hoc, soror, tametsi es maior,
moneo, ut tuom memineris officium:
etsi illi improbi sint atque aliter
nos faciant quam aequomst, tam pol
ne quid magis sit omnibus obnixe opibus
nostrum officium meminisse decet.
40
45
(39-46)
Because, by Pollux, in my opinion, it is right for all thinking people to pay attention to
their own duty and act on it. For this reason, sister, even though you are older, I take it
upon myself to advise you to remember your duty: even if they are immoral and act
otherwise than in a manner that is fair to us, nevertheless, by Pollux, let us not add to the
problem,208 but we must remember our duty fervently and with all of our resources.
It seems particularly important to Pamphila that the two women hold the same position on their
absent husbands, and she has put a significant amount of intellectual effort into bringing her
sister over to her point of view. Pamphila started this conversation by mentioning an adversary,
their father (12); her strategy for opposing him requires that the two women present a united
front. Her argument on duty successfully removes Panegyris’ objections, who says, placet. taceo
(“You make a good argument. I’ll drop my objections,” 47). The sisters leave the stage with one
mind, and from this point forward they work against their father in complete cooperation. As
207
Cf. Casina 203, discussed in the next section of this chapter, where Myrrhina silences her
friend Cleostrata with the same words, tace sis, when Cleostrata complains about her husband’s
interest in a slave girl.
208
The text is corrupt, but the sense can be deduced.
159
Krauss suggests, we should view this scene as “a short-lived sibling quarrel rather than a
profound conflict.”209
Now that the sisters are in agreement about what they must do, Pamphila turns the
conversation to strategic planning, but she is also looking for emotional support. She asks, quid
agimus, soror, si offirmabit pater advorsum nos? (“What should we do, sister, if our father is
steadfast in his opposition to us?” 67). She seeks assurance that she has a partner in this difficult
endeavor, and she wants to know that someone believes they will succeed: she has the strength to
oppose her father only if her sister stands by her. Although Pamphila was the more confident
sister in the first scene, now she looks to Panegyris to take the lead, a role that Panegyris accepts.
She devises their strategy, proposing that they attempt to win over their father with entreaties:210
exorando, haud advorsando sumendam operam censeo:
gratiam per si petimus, spero ab eo impetrassere;
(70-71)
I think the deed must be accomplished by supplication, not opposition: if we ask for a
favor, I hope he will grant it.
Their father also decides to adopt an indirect tactic of persuasion and flattery (75-87), and when
he finally confronts the girls, it is a game of deception on both sides. The sisters work in concert
to soften (and distract) their father with kisses and caresses (88-101), and Pamphila continues on
her moral theme, saying that good women take care of their fathers and husbands (96-98). Their
father, Antipho, poses a question about the characteristics of a good wife, pretending that he, a
widow, intends to remarry (102-8). The sisters contribute equally but in different ways to their
own cause, alluding to their own situation more and more directly: Pamphila says a good wife is
not gossiped about (113-14) – as one would be if she divorced her husband in absentia;
Panegyris says, and Pamphila agrees, that a good wife avoids temptation (117, 119-20) – such as
209
210
Krauss 2008: 30.
For an analysis of the sisters’ clever strategy and rhetorical skill, see Krauss 2008.
160
arises when one is unguarded by a husband for two years; Panegyris says that a wise woman is
patient when things are going poorly (124-25) – as the two women are being patient in the face
of very adverse circumstances. When their father finally proposes that they take new husbands,
the sisters defend their position with moral and logical arguments: either their father did not
think the husbands were a good match in the first place, in which case he never should have
given his daughters to them, or he did think the husbands were a good match, in which case it is
unfair (non aequomst, 131) to remove the girls. Moreover, Pamphila is rather fond of her
husband (placet ille mihi, 133), and she argues that she married a person, not money (134).
Finally, Panegyris refutes the charge that the women are disobeying their father’s orders
(imperium patris, 141): they are obeying the order he gave several years ago, when he gave them
in marriage to the brothers (142). They are taking a risk in opposing their father, for he still has
considerable social power over them, but together they work to minimize that risk by persuading
him that they are still loyal daughters. He concedes the argument and exits, leaving the sisters
jubilant.
The women have taken care of this particular obstacle, but the original problem still
remains: they are struggling to survive in the absence of their husbands. Panegyris invites her
sister inside, but she declines because she has to look after her own house (intervisam domum,
147). In fact, we learn that the women are having trouble making ends meet: Panegyris summons
her husband’s old parasite to the house to ask for a loan of wheat (249-54). Although they have
postponed the possibility of remarriage for now, like Penelope, their problem can only be truly
solved by the return of their husbands, and they will lead difficult and anxious lives until then.
They vow to inform each other immediately if either hears from her husband:
{SO} si a viro tibi forte veniet nuntius, facito ut sciam.
{PA} neque ego te celabo neque tu me celassis quod scias.
161
(148-49)
{SO} If you should happen to get a message from your husband, make sure you let me
know.
{PA} I will keep nothing from you, and don’t you keep anything that you find out from
me.
The two women suffer together, but with the anticipation that they will one day rejoice together
when good news finally comes. In the meantime, it is comforting to have a sister and friend in
the same situation. When the husbands eventually return, enriched by their mercantile gains, the
sisters are rewarded for their patience and loyalty.
The Stichus treats a variation of a literary topos in which a father pressures his daughter
(usually just one daughter) to divorce but she refuses.211 The opening scene of the Stichus is
similar to P. Didot I, a papyrus of forty-four lines from the mid-second century B.C.E., which
many scholars believe is an excerpt from a Menandrian play, some the very play upon which the
Stichus is based.212 It is seen again in Menander’s Epitrepontes (702-835), and later in Roman
rhetorical handbooks (Rhetorica ad Herennium 2.24; Seneca’s Controversiae 2.2) as an
exemplar for philosophical debate about a father’s moral and legal authority. Traill provides a
composite outline of the case made by the daughter(s):
(1) that a woman knows her own business best; (2) that ethical considerations outweigh
practicalities; (3) that the marriage bond is inviolate; (4) that the husband is satisfactory;
(5) that a second marriage is no solution; and (6) that the father is overstepping his
authority.213
In each appearance of this theme, the daughter uses moral and practical arguments. In the
Stichus, Pamphila argued that she liked her husband and that it was her officium to remain
married to him. For comparison, I provide an excerpt from P. Didot I:
211
See Traill 2008: 213-23 for a discussion of the literary topos and Scafuro 1997: 306-25 for an
investigation of the legal realities behind it.
212
For a summary of the scholarly opinions on the attribution of this fragment, see Page 1970:
180-185 and Gomme and Sandbach 1973: 723-24.
213
Traill 2008: 216.
162
γέγενον ἐκεῖνος εἰς ἔμ’ οἷον ἠξίουν,
ἐμοι τ’ ἀρέσκει πάνθ’ ἇ κἀκείνωι, πάτερ.
ἀλλ’ ἔστ’ ἐμοι μὲν χρηστός, ἠπόρηκε δέ·
σὺ δ’ ἀνδρί μ’, ὡς φής, ἐκδίδως νῦν πλουσίωι
ἵνα μὴ καταζῶ τὸν βίον λυπουμένη.
καὶ ποῦ τοσαῦτα χρήματ’ ἐστιν, ὦ πάτερ,
ἃ μᾶλλον ἀνδρὸς εὐφρανεῖ παρόντα με;
ἢ πῶς δίκαιόν ἐστιν ἢ καλῶς ἔχον
τῶν μὲν ἀγαθῶν με τὸ μέρος ὧν εἶχεν λαβεῖν,
τοῦ συνπορηθῆναι δὲ μὴ λαβεῖν μέρος;214
(17-26)
He is for me all that I wished for, and it pleases me to be everything to him. But [you say]
he is good for me, but poor: now you give me to a wealthy man, as you say, so that I will
not live my life in distress. And where is this great wealth, father, which, once I have it,
will make me happier than my husband will? How is it either just or good for me to take
a share of the good things, when he had them, but that I not take a share of the poverty?
Like Pamphila, she makes an ethical argument about staying with her husband: it is just
(δίκαιον) and correct (καλῶς ἔχον) not to leave the man to whom she was given, the man
whom she loves, simply because he is poor. The argument in P. Didot I, that it is δίκαιον to stay
with one’s husband, is not the same thing as the argument in the Stichus, that it is a woman’s
officium. While the former places emphasis on an ethical system that is perceived to be universal,
the latter specifically focuses on the responsibility of a woman to do what is culturally mandated.
Petrone connects Pamphila’s moral message with the historical circumstances of the play, which
was produced in 200 B.C.E. to celebrate Scipio’s return from Africa and peace: the sisters in the
Stichus should be faithful to their absent husbands just as Roman wives should be faithful to the
absent soldiers.215 The repeated use of officium reflects a decidedly Roman cultural code of
expectations for men and women in marriage and in wartime.
As discussed in Chapter 1, ethical debate between sisters in conflict is a literary trope that
allows the author to present on stage deliberation that might otherwise take place internally. By
modifying the resisting-daughter theme to include two daughters in the Stichus, rather than one,
214
Text from Page 1970: 186.
Petrone 1977: 36-39. It was Wagenvoort 1932: 310-11 who first illustrated that the occasion
for the play was Scipio’s return from Africa.
215
163
Plautus is able to explore reasons why a daughter might secretly want to concede the divorce,
even if she outwardly opposes her father. The speaker of the Didot papyrus, by contrast, appears
to have always held a clear, unwavering position on the subject. Rather than presenting one ideal
heroine as a model for Roman womanly virtue, the Stichus presents two rather more human
characters. Panegyris expresses a very realistic anxiety about having been abandoned, as well as
the resentment that we might expect from a woman whose culture requires that she be loyal to
her long absent husband, but not vice versa. To see this play as a simple philosophical debate
about a father’s authority over his daughter misses the second, less conventional debate about the
unfairness of a woman’s lot. If Petrone is correct, that Pamphila’s speech on officium is a
message to contemporary Roman women to remain loyal to their absent husbands in wartime,
then Panegyris’ hesitation adds a cynical layer, because she makes a good case justifying
women’s resentment. The disagreement between the sisters in lines 1-62 is not just a petty and
meaningless disagreement, but a passage of literary importance that changes the tone of the
inherited topos: they are not ideal Roman women, but simple people with ordinary human
weaknesses. In the scene that follows, in which the sisters present united opposition to their
father, the ignoble tone is continued: the daughters win over their father not with the ethicality of
their arguments, but through flattery and deceit. When scholars falsely present the sisters as
having one mind from the start, attaching the sentiments of Pamphila to both sisters,216 they miss
this significant and irreverent layer. The opening of the Stichus is not simply a philosophical
debate on duty, but an exploration of the humanity of these two women.
216
As does Segal 1987: 22.
164
B. Plautus’ Casina: Friendship between Established Matronae
The Casina offers a rare example in comedy of a woman willfully creating friction with
her friend. Two established matronae, Cleostrata and Myrrhina, live next door to each other and
have a long-standing friendship.217 When Cleostrata faces marital problems, she looks to
Myrrhina for empathy, but Myrrhina refuses to take Cleostrata’s side against her husband. Over a
century ago, Legrand interpreted this exchange as a philosophical debate between the female and
male points of view, where Cleostrata represents the former and Myrrhina the latter.218 By
reading this scene through the male-versus-female lens, scholars miss that Myrrhina does not
advocate for the allegedly male point of view because she supports men’s interests; rather, she
accepts the male perspective as the culturally dominant one and tries to protect her friend from
the repercussions of opposing masculine authority. Their opposing viewpoints on advisable
behavior in a marriage creates tension in the friendship when Myrrhina fails to offer the
sympathy that Cleostrata seeks, but it is a risk she is willing to take in order to protect her friend.
Cleostrata, in turn, neglects her duties of friendship in an effort to thwart her husband, but
Myrrhina is willing to forgive her temporary stubbornness.
The trouble stems from the fact that Cleostrata’s husband, Lysidamus, has taken a fancy
to their slave girl Casina, who is, unbeknownst to anyone in the play, the lost daughter of
Myrrhina. Lysidamus schemes to gain sexual access to Casina by arranging her marriage to his
personal slave, Olympio. Cleostrata’s son, Euthynicus, is also interested in the girl, and has
devised a similar plan to marry Casina to his own slave. Aware of her husband’s intentions,
Cleostrata attempts to keep her husband from Casina by lending practical support to the efforts
217
The play is based upon the lost Kleroumenoi of Diphilus. Again we do not know how the
Greek poet treated the relationship between these two friends and neighbors.
218
Legrand 1902: 371.
165
of her son. The first cause of her distress appears to be wounded pride: vir me habet pessumis
despicatam modis, (“My husband treats me despicably in the worst ways,” 185-86). She also
dwells on the fact that Casina is her property:
quin mihi ancillulam ingratiis postulat,
quae mea est, quae meo educta sumptu siet,
vilico suo se dare:
sed ipsus eam amat.
193
194
195
1952
But he demands, against my wishes, that I give my little slave girl to his foreman in
marriage, a girl who is mine, who was bought up at my own expense: but [my husband]
himself is in love with her.
The concept of ownership is emphasized by the contrast of mihi, mea, and meo with se and suo.
The final line (1952) shows that jealousy is a factor, too: the affront is all that much worse
because Lysidamus wants the girl for himself.219 She later reiterates the issue of property rights:
when Lysidamus tries to betroth Casina, Cleostrata objects that this right belongs to her (260-61),
as the person who has seen to the practical and financial side of raising the girl. Perhaps she
chooses to make this argument against Lysidamus because she believes it will be most effective.
It is socially acceptable and legal for Lysidamus to sleep with as many of his female slaves as he
desires, and his wife is expected put up with it. Such infidelities, if we may call them that, were
common, and although women could initiate divorce in Roman society, it would be foolish for
her to do so in such a case.220 The difficulty for a divorced woman to find financial support is
219
Jachmann 1931: 108 suggests a third reason for Cleostrata’s distress: concern for her foster
daughter’s future. I do not see an explicit evidence for this concern, but it is certainly possible.
Fraenkel 2007: 203-4 argues that line 1952 appears to be an afterthought and attributes it to
Plautine interpolation: Diphilus’ Κληρούµενοι, the Greek inspiration for this play, Cleostrata was
unaware of her husband’s amorous feelings until much later in the play. In a later edition,
however, Fraenkel retracts this argument (Fraenkel 1960: 434 n. 281), stating that he was
convinced by the rebuttal of Jachmann 1931: 108-9.
220
Treggiari 1991: 40 states that both women and men are judged negatively by the community
if they pursue divorce for what is considered to be a frivolous reason, but accusations of such
moral impropriety are lodged against women more often than men.
166
prohibitive, and her father is unlikely to approve of her decision to leave her husband for such a
pardonable (in the male mind) offense.221 Her only remaining option, then, is to be angry and, if
she so chooses, stir up some (additional) marital discord. She explains how she plans to punish
her husband:
neque paro neque hodie coquetur
quando si mi et filio advorsatur suo
animi amorisque causa sui
flagitium illud hominis! ego illum fame, ego illum siti
maledictis, malefactis amatorem ulciscar,
ego pol illum probe incommodis dictis angam,
faciam uti proinde ut est dignus vitam colat,
Accheruntis pabulum,
flagiti persequentem stabulum nequitiae.
150
152-54
155
160
(150-61)
I will not make his lunch nor cook for him today, since he has set himself against me and
his own son, on account of his own desire and lust, that disgrace of a man! I will take my
revenge upon that lover-boy with hunger, thirst, maledictions, and malefactions, by
Pollux I will thoroughly choke him with harsh words, I will make it so that he leads the
life he deserves, that offering for the underworld,222 that follower of debauchery, that den
of vileness!
Since Lysidamus is failing in his husbandly duties by coveting another woman, Cleostrata’s
revenge is to neglect her wifely duties of preparing his meals. McCarthy likens this act of
rebellion to that of slaves in Roman Comedy: because the husband/wife relationship is
immutable, with the wife being eternally subordinate, Cleostrata’s housewife rebellion is only a
temporary aberration.223 She feels powerless to affect the situation, and her emotions get the best
of her in the scenes that follow.
221
On the different standards for male and female fidelity in marriage, see Corbier 1991: 51;
Treggiari 1991: 38-41; Shelton 1998: 54-55; and Braund 2005: 42-46. Plautus recognizes the
double standard, that men are free to have sex with slaves and prostitutes but women must be
faithful to their husband, in Mercator 817-29.
222
MacCary and Willcock 1976: ad 158 explains that Acheruntis pabulum (“hell-fodder”) is
someone who is about to become a resident of the underworld.
223
McCarthy 2000: 77-84, especially 80.
167
Although she has no lines and no stage time, the events of the play have a profound affect
on Casina’s future. She is a foundling, who was raised as Myrrhina’s slave but a citizen by birth.
In the epilogue we are told:
haec Casina huius reperietur filia esse ex proxumo
eaque nubet Euthynico nostro erili filio.
(1013-14)
This Casina will be discovered to be the daughter of the person next door and she will
marry our Euthynicus, son of the master.
Arnott argues that huius ex proxumo refers to Myrrhina, but that the baby did not belong to
Myrrhina’s husband Alcesimus, hence the need for exposure.224 Casina’s status is also revealed
in the surviving prologue (81-83). Since parts of the surviving prologue are clearly from a
production staged after Plautus’ death, it is difficult to know precisely who wrote lines 81-83.
Plautus’ prologue, however, would have undoubtedly included this information. Plautus appears
to have reduced the Euthynicus-Casina marriage plotline from the Greek original, the
Kleroumenoi of Diphilus, giving more attention to the frustration of the old man’s lecherous
designs.225 Nonetheless, the audience would have known both from the prologue and from their
knowledge of comic conventions that Casina, the beautiful and chaste young virgin who never
appears on stage, would be recognized as a citizen by the end of the play so that she can legally
marry the adulescens who desires her. The audience is made to fear for the girl as they watch
Lysidamus scheme to defile her and Cleostrata fight to oppose him. Casina’s protection depends
on the outcome of Lysidamus and Cleostrata’s marital tiff.
Upset by her husband’s actions, Cleostrata sets out for Myrrhina’s house in search of a
sympathetic ear: nunc huc meas fortunas eo questum ad vicinam (“Now I’m going to my
224
Arnott 2003: 40-42.
See Questa and Scàndola 1988: 61-65 on the authorship of the surviving prologue and the
Plautine alterations to the recognition plotline.
225
168
neighbor’s to lament my misfortunes,” 162). At first it appears that Cleostrata will find what she
seeks, because Myrrhina is very sensitive to Cleostrata’s mood, that is, empathetic, and aspires to
be sympathetic. She notes Cleostrata’s sadness and asks her to share her troubles (172-73, 179),
saying, nam quod tibi est aegre, idem mist dividiae (“For whatever is troubling for you is equally
a source of distress for me,” 180-81). This part of the exchange is similar to the scene in
Cistellaria, discussed in Chapter 4, where the courtesan Gymnasium notices that her friend
Selenium (a pseudo-courtesan) is upset (Cist. 53-54), asks her to explain what troubles her (Cist.
56-57), and proclaims that Selenium’s tears elicit her own tears in empathy (Cist. 58). As with
the girls in the Cistellaria, Myrrhina and Cleostrata enjoy a long-standing friendship that they
rely on for emotional support.
When Cleostrata explains the reasons for her anger (lines 93-952, quoted above),
however, Myrrhina does not give her the validation she seeks. In fact, when Cleostrata argues
that Casina is her property, Myrrhina attempts to silence her, believing such a statement to be
socially risqué:
{MY} obsecro,
tace. {CL} nam hic nunc licet dicere:
nos sumus. {MY} ita est.226
(1952-97)
{MY} Hush, I beg you!
{CL} It’s okay to speak here now: we are alone.227
{MY} True.
226
I have reproduced the text of Naudet 1830, accepted by MacCary and Willcock 1976, who
follow the innovative line attributions of Acidalius 1607. Lindsay 1903 emends tace to dice to
make sense of the inherited line attributions: {MY} obsecro dice, nam hic nunc licet dicere: nos
sumus. {CL} ita est. I find Acidalius’ solution to be more eloquent.
227
Most interpret an ellipsis (nos sumus [solae]), but Naudet 1830: 585-86 ad loc believes that is
unnecessary. He explains the meaning as it stands as nos sumus [quae confabulamur, neque
quisquam adest arbiter]. Either interpretation comes to the same thing: they can speak freely.
169
Already Myrrhina shows discomfort because the two of them are saying things of which men –
the dominant social voice – might not approve. Although Cleostrata convinces her that they can
speak safely without being overheard, Myrrhina still objects to Cleostrata’s claim that Casina is
her property:
{MY} unde ea tibi est?
nam peculi probam nil habere addecet
clam virum et quae habet partum ei haud commode est,
quin uiro aut subtrahat aut stupro inuenerit.
hoc uiri censeo esse omne quicquid tuom est.
(198-202)
How did this [slave girl] come to be yours? For it is not proper for an upstanding woman
to have private property without her husband’s knowledge, and if she has property, she
did not come by it properly, but she either stole it from her husband or acquired it by
dishonesty. By this token, I believe that everything that is yours belongs to your husband.
When Cleostrata seeks sympathy, Myrrhina does not give it. Rather, she seeks to undermine the
premise of Cleostrata’s distress: Cleostrata is upset because her husband took control of her
property, but Myrrhina counters that Cleostrata has no property, ergo her husband has done
nothing to upset her. It might appear to the reader, and it certainly appears to Cleostrata, that
Myrrhina is failing to meet the emotional needs of her friend. When Cleostrata asks for
affirmation of her feelings, Myrrhina openly refuses to grant it. In Cleostrata’s interpretation,
Myrrhina is “speaking against [her] friend” (tu quidem advorsum tuam amicam omnia loqueris,
“Indeed you are saying all of these things against your own friend,” 203). Fraenkel reads the
passage in this way, arguing that it is incongruous with the otherwise amicable relationship
between Myrrhina and Cleostrata and must therefore be a Plautine interpolation:
The principles which Myrrhina espouses in lines 199-211 fit neither her character nor her
behaviour during the rest of the play nor the nature of her friendship with Cleostrata. The
two women are in complete harmony; the intimacy of their relationship is studiously
emphasized at the beginning of this scene (179-83). Cleostrata is deeply worried; such
170
cold-blooded opposition by her friend, as it is portrayed in only one set of lines, 199-211,
is intolerable: it contradicts the way the Greek poet has clearly shaped the whole play.228
This interpretation, however, does not take into account the lines that follow
immediately, in which Myrrhina tries to explain that Cleostrata has misinterpreted her objection:
tace sis,
stulta, et mi ausculta. noli
sis tu illi aduorsari,
sine amet, sine quod lubet id faciat,
quando tibi nil domi delicuom est.
(203-7)
Quiet, you foolish woman, and listen to what I’m saying! Do not set yourself against your
husband: allow him to love, allow him to do what he likes, as long as nothing is lacking
for you at home.
The words tace sis and mi ausculta, expressed in frustration, indicate that Myrrhina believes
Cleostrata is not listening: Cleostrata does not understand that Myrrhina is making another
argument entirely. Myrrhina says that not heeding her advice is foolish (stulta): in other words,
she tries to say that she is discussing a matter of prudence, not a matter of emotional needs.
Cleostrata’s misunderstanding continues, and she accuses Myrrhina of setting herself against all
women: Satin sanas? nam tu quidem aduorsus tuam istaec rem loquere, (“Are you insane? For
now you are saying things against even your own interest!” 207-8). This line, no doubt, plays a
large role in the scholarly misinterpretation of this passage. In fact, Legrand goes so far as to
speculate that, since Myrrhina’s arguments seem to favor the masculine point of view, they must
have originally been spoken by another character in Diphilus’ play, namely Cleostrata’s father,
and the Plautine adaptation reflects this.229 Such speculation is unnecessary, however. Myrrhina
tries once and for all to clarify in what way she is actually speaking for Cleostrata’s interest, not
against it:
{MY} insipiens,
228
229
Fraenkel 2007: 204.
Legrand 1902: 372.
171
209
semper tu huic uerbo uitato abs tuo uiro. {CL} quoi verbo 210-12
{MY} i foras, mulier.
213
{MY} Foolish woman! You must always guard against this command from your
husband.
{CL} Which command?
{MY} “Woman, leave my house.”230
Finally Myrrhina has phrased her position bluntly: Cleostrata must watch what she says and
does, because displeasing her husband could result in divorce.231 While Cleostrata clings to an
abstract principle of fairness, Myrrhina tries to explain that life is not always fair. And both are
right: surely it is unfair that Cleostrata’s husband can use his masculine authority to interfere
with the slave girl whom Cleostrata has raised, whose future Cleostrata has spent years planning,
and whose happiness is on the line. Surely it is unfair for Lysidamus to use his position of power
to rape a young virgin. But Myrrhina is also right: if Cleostrata opposes her husband in this, she
will get little support from society, and might suffer gravely for her culturally inappropriate
intervention. From her perspective as a third-party, Myrrhina is able to keep a level head and
understand the possible consequences of Cleostrata’s actions, regardless of what is fair. She tries
in vain to share her wisdom with her friend.
Myrrhina is not Plautus’ mouthpiece for the male prospective, as Legrand has suggested;
she is the objective observer whose primary goal is to protect her friend. Cleostrata and Myrrhina
may be talking to each other, but they are having two very different conversations: Cleostrata
seeks emotional support, but Myrrhina gives practical support. Cleostrata believes Myrrhina is
230
Ceasing to cohabitate constitutes divorce, and this could be initiated by either the husband, by
commanding his wife to move out, or the wife, by moving out; no public authority was involved.
See Treggiari 1991: 33-34 and Borkowski and du Plessis 2005: 128-29 on the initiation of
divorce. Treggiari 1991 and Corbier 1991 cover the social aspects of divorce more broadly.
231
Braund 2005: 45 understands Myrrhina’s position as I do: “[Myrrhina] argues for turning a
blind eye to her husband’s love affairs – provided her home life is still comfortable – because of
risk of divorce.” Braund (46) gives several examples in Roman Comedy of the theme of
morigera: a wife must be “compliant with her husband in domestic and sexual matters.”
172
being unsupportive and misogynistic; Myrrhina sees that Cleostrata’s judgment is clouded by her
anger and emotional pain. Their miscommunication leads to more frustration and hurt feelings.
As the conversation unfolds, Myrrhina realizes that her approach is creating animosity in the
friendship (setting her advorsum suam amicam), but she is willing to risk this disharmony in
favor of her friend’s wellbeing. Cleostrata, meanwhile, by focusing her energy on her
relationship with her husband has neglected her relationship with her friend. Her all-consuming
desire for vengeance temporarily interferes with her ability to catch the signals that Myrrhina
really does care about her and is offering the appropriate kind of support. While Myrrhina’s
approach may be unusual, I would not go so far as to call it out of character and problematic, as
Langen does.232 She is still performing the duties of a friend, albeit in a different way than
Cleostrata (and many scholars) expect.
Cleostrata’s focus on retaliation against her husband continues, to the extent that she risks
offending her friend in an effort to injure her husband. He and his friend, Alcesimus (who is
Myrrhina’s husband), plot to find Lysidamus an empty house in which to pursue relations with
Casina. To achieve this, they agree to suggest to their wives that the two women should get
together at Cleostrata’s house to prepare for the wedding. Alcesimus returns home and informs
his wife Myrrhina that she will be receiving an invitation to go next door; Lysidamus returns
home and suggests to his wife that she have Myrrhina over. Cleostrata, however, begins to
suspect the plot and so determines to foil it by not summoning her neighbor. In an aside,
Alcesimus reports that Myrrhina is all dressed up and ready to go, an image suggesting
impatience:
miror huc iam non arcessi in proxumum uxorem meam,
232
Langen 1886: 127-28. This misreading (that Myrrhina’s character is inconsistent) persists in
scholarship all the way up through McCarthy 2000: 82 and 102.
173
quae iam dudum, si arcessatur, ornata exspectat domi.
(539-40)
I’m surprised my wife has not already been called over here to the neighbor’s; she has
been waiting at home, all dressed up, for a long time now, in case she gets an invitation.
He then encounters Cleostrata and tries four times to convince her to call her friend over,
including the suggestion that Myrrhina is “waiting” for her (illa te manet, 542). Cleostrata knows
that Alcesimus has an ulterior motive; therefore she does not give in to his attempts, but she also
shows no concern for the possibility that Myrrhina may perceive her actions as a slight.
Cleostrata does not offer to explain to Myrrhina in person that they will no longer be getting
together; she simply leaves her hanging, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Meanwhile, she
congratulates herself on making a fool of Alcesimus (iam hic est lepide ludificatus, “Now then,
he has been played quite nicely,” 558) and wishes that her husband would come along so that she
could similarly make a fool out of him (559-60).
Like the argument between the two sisters in the Stichus, Cleostrata and Myrrhina give
every appearance of wanting to agree, suggesting that their dispute is only temporary. In fact,
they quickly reconcile and combine forces to thwart Lysidamus. Myrrhina participates fully in
Cleostrata’s latest plot to embarrass her husband by substituting a man in drag for the bride,
Casina. Lysidamus believes that his schemes have prevailed because his own bailiff is set to
marry Casina, but when Lysidamus attempts to get the new bride alone, he will discover that
“she” is really a he. Myrrhina and Cleostrata cooperate in this final trick, as is reported by the
handmaid Pardalisca:
illaec autem armigerum ilico exornant duae
quem dent pro Casina nuptum nostro uilico.
174
(769-70)
The two women are in there decking out an arms-bearer,233 in order to give him in
marriage to the bailiff in place of Casina:
Pardalisca, too, is a full conspirator, reporting to the men with elaborate melodrama that Casina
has gone into a homicidal rage, a performance designed to keep them away from Casina until the
time of the wedding (621-712). She takes great delight in the fact that the whole household is
involved in duping the master and his favored servant (759-79). Her characterization draws
largely on the “tricky slave” stock type, and it is not unusual to see a slave collaborating with a
citizen to outwit the master, although usually a male slave collaborates with an adulescens
against the youth’s father. In this play, the desire to trick the men is a point of bonding between
Pardalisca and the citizen women.
Although they experience a brief conflict at the beginning of the play, Myrrhina and
Cleostrata enjoy each other’s full support, both practical and emotional, by the end. Their
friendship is marked by a level of social security: as established matronae who have raised heirs
to adulthood, neither fears much for her marriage and the access to shelter, food, or other
amenities that a solid marriage brings.234 Since they are not faced with the same sort of stress that
courtesans face, their relationship is not one of mutual dependency for their very livelihood.
They are, however, two women in similar social situations who have become close friends
because of their spatial proximity and commonality of experience. Their friendship, like their
respective marriages, is strong enough to weather a little discord from time to time.
While Cleostrata’s interference with her husband’s plans may not be socially sanctioned,
her stubbornness proves to have a positive social outcome: the protection of Casina. As Myrrhina
233
The term armiger denotes a slave who has served his master in the army, but it is also a
sexual pun indicating the masculinity of the slave who is to be substituted for Casina.
234
Although legally a divorce is possible even at their stage in the relationship, Treggiari 1991:
40 notes that it is unlikely because, among other things, “Contemporaries are particularly severe
on husbands who divorced a wife who had borne children or who had committed no fault.”
175
indicated, Cleostrata’s claim that the girl is her property holds no water, because women do not
have property. Myrrhina’s sustained efforts to bring Cleostrata over to the side of reason make
Cleostrata seem increasingly more unreasonable. When Cleostrata refuses even to invite her
friend to her house as planned, she might appear, in her dogged pursuit of vengeance, to be petty.
However, rather than lose sympathy for Cleostrata, the audience would admire her all the more
for sticking to her principles in the face of such great opposition, because they understand that
Cleostrata’s vengeance-plot is the only thing protecting the virgin girl from rape by a lustful old
man. Although it was socially acceptable for a man to have sexual relations with his slaves, the
character of Lysidamus is nonetheless thoroughly unlikeable; he is portrayed as an old lecher,
and his amorous intentions would receive no support from the audience, who would instead
favor the romantic endeavors of the adulescens. Thus Cleostrata’s relentless opposition to the
marriage is in accordance with what is morally right, even though she is unaware of all of the
facts and therefore unable to oppose Lysidamus for the right reasons. In Aristotle’s schema, she
makes the right decision, but in ignorance. Her argument for fairness would receive some
sympathy, but her stubbornness does not appear to be justified (or at least wise) without the
knowledge that Casina’s virginity is worth fighting for. This morally complexity marks the skill
of the playwright(s) and contributes to the audience’s enjoyment of the play.
C. Terence’ Hecyra: Four Women in a Quandary
The Hecyra, or “Mother in Law,” examines the ideas of stereotypes and prejudice in
human behavior, presenting several female characters as morally superior individuals who do not
succumb to the prejudice exhibited by the patriarchs of the two families. The mother-in-law and
the meretrix particularly do not act according to the stereotypes of wicked and mercenary,
176
respectively.235 In his dissertation, Terence’s Dark Comedy, Alan Zeitlin explores Terence’s
presentation of citizen males as individuals who are simultaneously the backbone of society and
morally inferior to those who are believed to be amoral by nature: women and prostitutes. The
message, he argues, is that the contemporary moral system is broken.236 The opening
conversation between courtesans Philotis and Syra introduces the theme of stereotypes when
Syra claims that all men are faithless and break the hearts of their meretrices, as the young man
of the play, Pamphilus, has done to the courtesan, Bacchis, by taking a wife (63-65).237 Philotis,
however, disagrees that all men are the same and expressly refuses to treat them all alike (63-75).
Terence has set up an intriguing situation in which Philotis, a member of the supposedly inferior
gender and a profession incapable of ethical behavior, becomes the voice of morality. Whereas
ethics are often defined from the standpoint of the citizen male, as I described in Chapter 4 with
regards to the financial needs of courtesans, in this play, the ethical code of the citizen male is
exposed as flawed. Meanwhile, the responsibility of defining ethical behavior and grappling with
tough issues falls to the women, starting with the debate between Philotis and Syra. In this
section, I will examine the ethical decisions made by two matrons (Sostrata and Myrrhina), a
newly married young woman (Philumena), and a courtesan (Bacchis).
The mother-in-law of the title is Sostrata, wife of Laches, mother of Pamphilus. Her
daughter-in-law, Philumena, is the child of next-door neighbors Phidippus and Myrrhina. Many
of the ethical choices in the play revolve around the unintended pregnancy of Philumena, who
does not know that the baby she carries belongs to her husband. Ten months prior to the start of
235
Braund 2005: 61-62 says, “[t]he unorthodox nature of these two female characters
compounds the degree of experimentation in this play,” and she blames the play’s well-known
comic failure on the supposition that the play was too experimental for the audience’s taste.
236
Zeitlin 1998: 1.
237
Latin text and line numbers for the Hecyra are taken from Kauer and Lindsay 1926.
177
the play, Philumena was raped by an unknown assailant (actually Pamphilus), a crime that she
hid from her family. A few months after the rape, Pamphilus and Philumena were married, with
everyone but Philumena believing that she was a virgin. Pamphilus refused to consummate the
marriage, however, because he still held strong affection for the courtesan Bacchis, even though
she had ended relations with him after his wedding. Several months after the wedding,
Pamphilus left town for an extended journey, during which time Philumena began to withdraw
from her in-laws, eventually returning to her natal home where she hoped to conceal the
pregnancy from everyone except her mother and the handmaids. Laches, Phidippus, and Sostrata
know only that, when left alone in the house with Sostrata (for Laches resides at the country
house most of the time), Philumena withdrew from her mother-in-law. The incompleteness of
their information is the root of many misunderstandings, as we would expect in New Comedy. I
will examine how the revelation of new information affects the relationships between various
characters: how Myrrhina protects her daughter; how Sostrata works towards the reconciliation
of the bride and groom; how Bacchis confronts the citizen women; and how Philumena
experiences her relationship with her mother, her mother-in-law, and her husband’s ex-lover.238
i. Myrrhina’s Choice
Myrrhina is the only person in her daughter’s full confidence at the start of the play,
which makes her role as the protector of the secret pregnancy all the more important. The
opening of the play focuses on the in-laws’ perspective: Philumena withdraws from her new
husband’s family, pretends to have been summoned to her parents’ house, and ultimately moves
out. They are left to speculate on the reasons for her behavior. From Myrrhina’s perspective, she
is unaware of any problem until her daughter arrives at home, in distress and, as she undoubtedly
238
Gilula 1979 examines the dramatic effect of the revelation of new information.
178
confesses to her mother at once, pregnant by an unknown man as the result of a rape before the
marriage. Myrrhina throws herself wholeheartedly into the protection of her daughter and her
daughter’s secret, willingly deceiving her husband and ignoring the feelings of her son-in-law
and his family. She has a strong bond with her daughter and wants her to be happy; she wants
and needs to protect her from social rebuke and a poor future.
A closer examination of Myrrhina’s decisions will reveal the extent of her investment in
her daughter. The play presents many opportunities for internal ethical debate through a plot
device that is common to New Comedy: certain characters have more information than others,
and the former party tries to deceive the latter. As more information becomes available to the
latter, the former must decide how to change their story in order to continue the deception, often
creating new problems where none currently existed. Initially, Myrrhina and Philumena are the
only two (along with some slave women) who know that Philumena is pregnant. Myrrhina
endeavors to conceal the pregnancy from everyone, particularly the patriarchs of the two
families, Laches and Phidippus. But then Pamphilus returns from abroad and finds out about the
pregnancy when he bursts into Philumena’s room (365-78). Myrrhina tries to contain the
situation by swearing him to secrecy (378-96). Her distress is unconcealed: Pamphilus reports,
iam ut limen exirem, ad genua accidit | lacrumans misera: miseritumst (“Just as I was going out
the door, the poor woman fell to her knees crying: it was a pitiful sight,” 378-79). Carney
remarks on the profoundness of this gesture:
The point of the line is that the position of the (Roman) matron in her own home was not
a humble one – and M. is, furthermore, represented as dominating her husband in this
play – so that such an act of supplication would strike the audience as truly
extraordinary.239
239
Carney 1963: ad 378.
179
Myrrhina makes increasingly more desperate promises: they will claim that the baby was
miscarried (398), or if that fails, she will expose the baby after its birth (400), so that no one else
need know it ever existed and allowing the young couple to resume their marriage, if that is what
Pamphilus wants. Whether or not he takes her back, Myrrhina begs him to keep the secret illi
miserae indigne factam iniuriam contexeris (“to conceal a wrong done to the wretched girl
undeservedly,” 401). Carney notes the depth of Myrrhina’s shame: she never mentions her
daughter by name, referring to her only as illi miserae.240 Pamphilus agrees to mention the
pregnancy to no one, yet does not believe he can take his wife back. From this point forward,
Myrrhina is not protecting Philumena’s chance at reconciliation with her husband, but rather
Philumena’s reputation, which is untarnished as long as Laches and Phidippus remain ignorant of
the pregnancy.
The real trouble for Myrrhina and Philumena starts when it becomes apparent that
Phidippus, who barges into Philumena’s room just after she has given birth, is about to discover
the baby. Now she must think seriously about what to do next, and the gravity of the decision is
apparent in her speech:
perii, quid agam? quo me vortam? quid viro meo respondebo
misera? nam audivisse vocem pueri visust vagientis;
ita corripuit derepente tacitus sese ad filiam.
quod si rescierit peperisse eam, id qua causa clam me habuisse
dicam non edepol scio.
sed ostium concrepuit. credo ipsum exire ad me: nulla sum.
(516-21)
I’m a goner- what am I to do? Where am I to turn? What will I, wretched me, tell my
husband? For it seems he has heard the cry of the baby, so suddenly but quietly he rushed
to his daughter. But if he finds out that she has given birth, by Pollux I do not know what
excuse I will give for keeping the secret. But the door creaks open. I believe he is coming
out here to me: I’m toast.
240
Carney 1963: ad 401.
180
Her words show that she is not thinking just of Philumena, but of herself (perii and nulla sum).
Myrrhina worries how her husband will react to the fact that she concealed such a secret from
him, fearing that marital discord will follow. Myrrhina must choose a course of action, then, that
somehow protects Philumena’s reputation and protects herself from her husband’s displeasure.241
Ireland notes that Myrrhina does let fear paralyze her for long: “The tenor of Myrrhina’s initial
statements suggests a scene in which she is browbeaten by her husband, but it is in fact
Phidippus who is characteristically forced to give ground.”242 The explanation that Myrrhina first
offers is that the baby belongs to Pamphilus (527-28); now that Phidippus knows his daughter
has a baby, the only possible honorable explanation is that the baby belongs to the girl’s own
husband. This solution, however, does not save Myrrhina from the charge of thwarting her
husband’s authority. As Phidippus sees it, the baby, who happens to be a boy, would cement the
union between the young couple and solve whatever differences they have been having lately.
He cannot understand why his wife would keep such good news a secret, and he therefore
accuses her of deliberately trying to create conflict in the children’s marriage (529-36).
Convinced of this conclusion, Phidippus then attempts to fit the known evidence to his theory,
claiming that his wife has been against the marriage from the beginning. He recalls Myrrhina’s
hesitation at the time of the wedding, when she was reluctant to hand her daughter over to a boy
who still had a mistress (536-39). Myrrhina seizes the new opportunity and decides to let her
husband believe that the meretrix, Bacchis, is the cause of the marital problems between
Philumena and Pamphilus and the reason that she is not trying to reconcile the couple. She says
to the audience: quamvis causam hunc suspicari quam ipsam veram mavolo (“I prefer that he
241
See Goldberg 1986: 154-55 on Myrrhina’s profound agitation for both herself and her
daughter, visible in this monologue.
242
Ireland 1990: ad 516-76.
181
suspect that reason than the right one,” 540). Phidippus and Myrrhina enter into a little debate as
to how a marriage can best benefit a family. Phidippus argues that it is his decision to choose a
suitable husband for their daughter (541-46), and Myrrhina argues that Pamphilus is an
unsuitable groom because of his attachment to a courtesan (547-48). She has now switched the
focus of her blame from Bacchis to Pamphilus, and in fact she maneuvers the conversation so
that the responsibility of the next decision lies with Pamphilus. She instructs Phidippus to have a
talk with Pamphilus and ask whether he will take Philumena back. If he does, then the problem is
solved; if he does not, Myrrhina says that she will have “done the right thing for her daughter”
(sin est autem ut nolit, recte ego consului meae, 559). But Myrrhina knows that Pamphilus will
refuse, because she knows that Pamphilus is already aware of the child and believes it is not his.
She transfers the responsibility for the situation onto Pamphilus, knowing that now he, not she,
will appear to be the unreasonable one. Her decision is unfair to Pamphilus, since she knows he
will end up looking bad, but it is more important to her to do right by her daughter. The
cleverness and risk of her strategy is noted by Ireland:
Myrrhina makes no attempt to defend herself by denying the role attributed to her, a
hazardous venture as she had recognised in 540. Rather, she accepts the premises upon
which Phidippus’ fabrications are built and uses them to further the establishment of an
alternative reality within which Phidippus is steered towards accepting the justice of
Myrrhina’s supposed attitude.243
Before she leaves the stage, Myrrhina takes stock of the situation in a monologue: her husband
will be very angry if he discovers the whole truth; they are handicapped by the fact that they do
not know who the rapist is; and, now that the existence of the child has been made public,
Pamphilus may reveal that he is not the father rather than recognize an illegitimate child. Things
are going poorly for both her daughter and herself, which causes her great distress: nullam pol
243
Ireland 1990: ad 556-59.
182
credo mulierem me miseriorem vivere (“By Pollux, I think there is no woman alive more
miserable than I,” 566).
Myrrhina’s actions demonstrate that her greatest loyalty is to her daughter. It is also
worth noting the people in whom Myrrhina is not emotionally invested: Pamphilus, Sostrata (her
daughter’s mother-in-law), and the courtesan Bacchis. Myrrhina has many social ties to Sostrata:
their children are married, their husbands are friends, and they are neighbors; but the two women
have never taken advantage of the opportunity to strike up a friendship. Neither is there any
particularly animosity; Myrrhina simply never considers Sostrata in her actions. She never
addresses the belief of Laches and Phidippus that Sostrata has driven away her daughter-in-law
with unkind treatment. Meanwhile, Myrrhina’s decision paints Bacchis in a bad light
undeservedly, since Bacchis will take the blame for dissolving the marriage despite her lack of
involvement. But Bacchis is a meretrix: not only is Myrrhina not expected to consider Bacchis’
feelings, she is expected to treat Bacchis as an adversary. It is perfectly fine, maybe even
expected, not to consider Bacchis’ reputation. When new information is revealed and Myrrhina
has to change her story, Bacchis is a convenient scapegoat.
In Chapter 4, we saw two examples of relationships between courtesan mothers and
daughters. Cleareta of the Asinaria raised her daughter in the trade, and Melaenis of the
Cistellaria helped her adopted daughter reunite with her citizen parents so that she would not
have to enter the profession. Like those mothers, Myrrhina of the Hecyra fights desperately to
protect her daughter and ensure her happiness. While Melaenis could most help her daughter by
letting her go, Cleareta and Myrrhina must make the best of the situation which they are given.
For both pairs, the bonds of blood are strong, and the relationship between mother and daughter
is the only stable one amidst the uncertainty of a young girl’s romantic affairs.
183
ii. Sostrata’s Choice
Sostrata (the mother-in-law) is in a difficult situation due to the impetuous decisions of
her husband and son. Laches believes Philumena withdrew because she was mistreated by her
mother-in-law, but this belief is not based on actual evidence. Laches sees only the end result,
and he postulates a cause based on stereotypes, assuming that all mothers dislike their sons’
wives (198-204). He accuses Sostrata, undeservedly as she says (inmerito, 208), of disgracing
herself and her family, causing sorrow for her son, turning friends (Phidippus’ family) into
enemies, and being impudent (209-13). Pamphilus, meanwhile, has decided to encourage
Laches’ false assumptions about the cause of the separation. Since Pamphilus has already
decided he will not take his wife back, believing that she has given birth to another man’s baby,
he uses the alleged rift between his mother and his wife as his excuse. He proclaims that, since
he has to choose between the two of them, filial piety makes him choose his mother (470-81).
Just as Myrrhina tried to transfer responsibility for the situation onto Pamphilus, Pamphilus tries
to transfer responsibility onto Philumena and Sostrata. Sostrata, although accused unjustly, does
not try to pass the blame. Rather, she dutifully proposes a solution that she thinks will remove all
obstacles to the reconciliation, even though it requires some self-sacrifice:
{SO} non clam me est, gnate mi, tibi me esse suspectam, uxorem tuam
propter meos mores hinc abisse, etsi ea dissimulas sedulo.
verum ita me di ament itaque optingant ex te quae exoptem mihi ut
numquam sciens commerui merito ut caperet odium illam mei.
580
teque ante quod me amare rebar, ei rei firmasti fidem;
nam mi intus tuos pater narravit modo quo pacto me habueris
praepositam amori tuo: nunc tibi me certumst contra gratiam
referre ut apud me praemium esse positum pietati scias.
mi Pamphile, hoc et vobis et meae commodum famae arbitror:
585
ego rus abituram hinc cum tuo me esse certo decrevi patre,
ne mea praesentia obstet neu causa ulla restet relicua
quin tua Philumena ad te redeat.
(577-88)
It is no secret to me, my son, that you suspect your wife left because of something I did,
even though you diligently hide it. But, just as I wish the gods would bless me and that all
184
the things I want for you would happen, so I swear that I never knowingly did anything to
incur or deserve the hatred she feels for me. And I thought that you loved me before, but
you have confirmed your loyalty by your actions; for your father told me just now, when
we were inside, how you have placed me ahead of your love; now I am determined to
return the favor so that you may know that piety is rewarded with me. My Pamphilus, I
think that this plan is suitable for you two and for my reputation: I have decided that I
will leave here and go out to the country with your father, so that my presence will not
stand in your way, nor will any cause remain to keep your Philumena from returning to
you.
It is clear that Sostrata is concerned with her reputation: first she swears that she has done
nothing to warrant the charges against her, and when she offers a solution, she specifies that it
will be good for her fama. She does not argue that the solution will be good for her in any other
way. In fact, Pamphilus understands that there will be many negative repercussions for her: tum
tuas amicas te et cognatas deserere et festos dies | mea causa nolo (“I do not want you to give up
your friends and relatives and festival days for my sake,” 592-93). The participation in religious
activities was an important part of public life for women, allowing them to interact socially with
the broader community of women. 244 Sostrata explains that her priorities have changed: she is no
longer interested in those things, which she got her share of in her younger days (593-95). Her
priority now is her reputation:
haec mihi nunc curast maxuma ut nequoi mea
longinquitas aetatis obstet mortemve exspectet meam.
hic video me esse invisam inmerito: tempust me concedere.
sic optume, ut ego opinor, omnis causas praecidam omnibus:
et me hac suspicione exsolvam et illis morem gessero.
sine me obsecro hoc effugere volgus quod male audit mulierum.
(595-600)
Now the thing that is of the greatest concern to me is that no one should feel my
advanced age is a hindrance to him, nor should anyone be waiting for my death. Here I
see that I am hated, although undeservedly: it is time for me to leave. This is the best
way, I think, to eliminate every reason [for disliking me] from everyone: I will both
absolve myself of this suspicion and gratify [the gossips]. Allow me, I beg, to escape that
negative reputation which dogs women.
244
See Chapter 2 above, p. 40.
185
Sostrata finds it unpalatable to be regarded as one who sows discord. She recognizes the
importance of joining the two households through a successful marriage and does not want to be
the person who stands in the way of that. Like Myrrhina, she is emotionally invested in her child
and her child’s successful marriage. Although Pamphilus is also motivated by self-interest, his
interpretation of Sostrata’s proposed sacrifice should not be overlooked. Sostrata is willing to
give up her entire social network – friends, family, and community – in order to help her son
and, hopefully, restore her reputation. It is more important to her to have a good reputation
among men (or, more specifically, not to have a bad reputation) than it is to have a social support
group. We should not think of her as shallow, though: for a citizen woman, the contempt of her
husband and her husband’s friends could cause serious and palpable unhappiness.
When Sostrata leaves the stage, Laches, who has been eavesdropping, engages Pamphilus
in conversation. As Ireland notes, Sostrata’s plea is phrased so effectively that it puts her son in a
difficult position:
By making the end of her speech ostensibly an appeal to self-interest – that her proposed
act, though designed principally to benefit Pamphilus, will also help herself – Sostrata
effectively renders her son’s rejection of the offer all the more difficult, as his reaction in
601 and 605 indicates.245
Pamphilus tells Laches that, although he wants to take Philumena back, he will not, because
refusing her will somehow make things better for the relationship between his wife and his
mother, as if that were the goal. The text of the line to which I refer is difficult: credo ea gratia
concordes [magis], si non redducam, fore (“I believe that, if I do not return to my wife, there will
be more amity because of that,” 617). Several editors prefer Bentley’s conjucture, non credo ea
gratia concordes magis, si redducam, fore (“I do not believe, if I return to my wife, that there
245
Ireland 1990: ad 600.
186
will be more amity because of that”).246 Even though these two interpretations have the opposite
meaning, both amount to an argument that Pamphilus’ relationship with his wife is not as
important as achieving harmony between his wife and mother. Laches calls him out on this poor
excuse, stating that their friendship is not the goal: verum id tua refert nil utrum illaec fecerint |
quando haec aberit (“But what those two women do does not matter a jot to your situation, since
your mother won’t be here,” 618-19). In his mind, the objective is the reunion of the young
couple and the cementing of the social link between two families. This goal is shared by
Phidippus, who proclaims: ego, Pamphile, esse inter nos, si fieri potest,| adfinitatem hanc sane
perpetuam volo (“I, Pamphilus, want this marital alliance between us to remain solid through the
ages, if possible,” 635-36). Pamphilus tries various excuses (655-60), and eventually confesses
that he cannot state the real reason for his refusal to take his wife back and runs offstage (69899). Laches and Phidippus, who have been provided with incomplete information, decide that
there is only one possible explanation left, that Pamphilus will not take his wife back because he
is still enamored with the meretrix Bacchis (709-20). They decide to go fetch her and see if they
can rectify the situation with her help. This brings us to Bacchis’ choice.
iii. Bacchis’ Choice
When Laches and Bacchis meet, Bacchis is cautious from the start because she fears that
a meretrix can only be treated with prejudice by citizens:
ego pol quoque etiam timida sum quom venit mi in mentem quae sim,
ne nomen mihi quaesti obsiet; nam mores facile tutor.
(734-35)
By Pollux I am also afraid, when I remember what I am, that the name of my profession
does me a disservice; for I can easily defend my character.
246
Fleckeisen 1898; Dziatzko 1884; Stella 1936; Carney 1963. The conjecture is attributed to
Bentley in Zeune 1820: 301.
187
Bacchis knows that a senex will make certain assumptions about a meretrix, a fear that is not
unfounded given the inherited literary topoi regarding these characters. Young men
(adulescentes) in comedy must use their fathers’ money, often obtained by deceit, to fund their
love affairs with meretrices.247 In Plautus’ Bacchides, discussed in Chapter 4, the two senes
blame their sons’ amicae (the meretrices of the title) for ruining them financially (1114-15) and
confront them angrily (1117-19). The Bacchis of Terence’s Hecyra expects a similar treatment,
but Terence has created characters that are unusual in many respects: Laches is cautious, too,
because he knows that offending Bacchis will not help him achieve his goal (729-31). The two
agree to listen to each other without prejudice, and Laches shares Myrrhina’s accusation that
Bacchis is the cause of the separation of the young couple. Bacchis, eager to prove her moral
worth and encouraged by Laches’ open mindedness, gives her word that she has not seen
Pamphilus since he married and offers to do whatever it takes to convince Laches of this fact
(750-52), including offering her slaves to be tortured for their evidence (774).248
The solution that Laches offers is for Bacchis to go to Philumena directly and explain that
she is no longer seeing Pamphilus:
eas ad mulieres huc intro atque istuc iusiurandum idem
polliceare illis. exple animum is teque hoc crimine expedi.
(754-55)
[I would have you] go to the women inside here and promise to swear this same oath to
them. Relieve their minds and clear yourself of this accusation
While Bacchis was nervous about confronting Laches, who is Pamphilus’ father and bank-roller,
the idea of visiting her former lover’s legitimate wife is unheard of:
247
Cf. Plautus’ Mostellaria, which follows the exploits of the adulescens Philolaches as he tries
to hide his expenditures on a courtesan from his father.
248
To refuse to offer her slaves for torture is tantamount to an admission of guilt in Athenian
law. See MacDowell 1978: 245 and Harrison 1998: 170.
188
faciam quod pol, si esset alia ex hoc quaestu, haud faceret, scio,
ut de tali causa nuptae mulieri se ostenderet.
sed nolo esse falsa fama gnatum suspectum tuom,
nec leviorem vobis, quibus est minime aequom, eum viderier
inmerito; nam meritus de me est quod queam illi ut commodem.
(756-60)
I will do it, by Pollux, even though I know that no other woman from my profession
would do it, would show herself to the lawfully wedded wife for such a purpose. But I do
not wish your son to be suspected of a false accusation, nor to seem, undeservedly, rather
capricious to you, in whose eyes it is most unfair for him to appear as such; for he
deserves from me that I do whatever I can for him.
Again Terence draws our attention to the conventional expectations, which he then thwarts:
meretrices do not, as a rule, visit the wives of their lovers. Bacchis, however, is willing to do
something that is socially taboo in order to save her former lover from an undeserved reputation.
She worries about standing out for her unusual behavior, about being socially different:
haec res hic agitur: Pamphilo me facere ut redeat uxor
oportet: quod si perficio non paenitet me famae,
solam fecisse id quod aliae meretrices facere fugitant.
(774-76)
This is what is to be done: I need to make Pamphilus’ wife return to him. But if I
succeed, I will not regret the reputation that I was the only person to do a thing that other
meretrices go out of their way to avoid.
She is the only one of her profession who is willing to do visit the citizen wife. She
acknowledges that such unconventional behavior will be talked about (fama), drawing attention
to her in a negative way, but she is willing to eschew social norms if it helps Pamphilus. The
meretrix Syra in the Cistellaria, discussed in Chapter 4, presents citizen wives and meretrices as
sworn enemies (Cist. 22-41). Wives speak ill of meretrices, she says, because meretrices have
designs on their husbands:
eas si adeas, abitum quam aditum malis, ita nostro ordini
palam blandiuntur, clam, si occasio usquam est,
aquam frigidam subdole suffundunt.
viris cum suis praedicant nos solere,
suas paelices esse aiunt, eunt depressum.
189
(Cist. 33-37)
If you go to [the matrones], you would rather turn around and leave than go inside, such
are the blandishments they heap up on our class in the open, but secretly, if the occasion
ever arises, they cunningly pour cold water on us. They assert that we have relations with
their husbands and they say that we are their concubines. They work to keep us down.
This quotation gives us both the cause of the tension, and the affect that that tension has on an
encounter between a matrona and a meretrix. Line 36 indicates jealousy and resentment on the
part of citizen wives towards prostitutes. While laws and customs prevent a citizen woman from
sleeping with anyone other than her husband, no laws prevent a married man from sleeping with
a prostitute, and there is only limited cultural censure attached to such activities: as long as he
does not squander his resources or display other signs of excess, he will not be rebuked for his
behavior by male friends; he might, in fact, be encouraged and applauded. A second cause for
resentment is indicated with the word paelices (37): citizen women fear they may be replaced by
a concubine. Once a man has grown heirs, his desire for a female companion and housekeeper
can be met equally well by a concubine or wife.249 Since citizen wives have no legal means of
protection or retaliation, their chief means of recrimination is, as Syra suggests, verbal and
social, namely through rebuke. Furthermore, they seem to gang up on their social inferiors,
closing ranks to thoroughly intimidate courtesans and make them feel like lesser human beings.
This is what Bacchis faces when she agrees to speak with Philumena. This is why few courtesans
are willing to do it. Syra’s speech represents the comic conventions regarding the relationship
between meretrix and matrona, but in that play, as in the Hecyra, the characters do not live up to
the stereotypes. Syra’s speech, like Bacchis’ lines, creates suspense for the audience, who
witness Bacchis’ fear and share the expectation that the encounter will be very unpleasant for
her.
249
Although it is legally possible for a husband to dismiss his established wife, mother of his
heir, in favor of a concubine, it is socially unacceptable and therefore rare (see above, note 234).
Nonetheless, a matrona might fear a concubine, since fear is rarely a factor of logical probability.
190
The power of such social censure is not to be underestimated. Except, of course, by
Laches. After she leaves the stage, Laches gives a little speech in which he seriously
misunderstands Bacchis’ situation:
quid est quod mihi malim quam quod huic intellego evenire,
ut gratiam ineat sine suo dispendio et mihi prosit?
nam si est ut haec nunc Pamphilum vere ab se segregarit,
scit sibi nobilitatem ex eo et rem natam et gloriam esse:
referet gratiam ei unaque nos sibi opera amicos iunget.
(794-99)
What could be better than to have things turn out as I understand they are going to, that
[Bacchis] will gain my gratitude at no cost to herself and at a profit to me? For if it is as
she said just now, that she has truly kept Pamphilus away from herself, she knows that
there will arise renown, fortune, and glory for herself on account of that. She will gain his
gratitude and at the same time she will secure us as friends on account of her deed.
His first error is believing that a confrontation will cost her nothing (sine suo dispendio), when
she has already made it clear that it will cost her a great deal. Laches overlooks the social risks
undertaken when a marginal member of a society confronts someone of a privileged class and
has the audacity to both bring up a taboo subject and contradict the narrative of the privileged
class. His second error is that he completely misrepresents Bacchis’ motivation by projecting his
own interpretation of events onto her: she knows (scit), he says, that her actions will be rewarded
with Pamphilus’ gratitude, Laches’ friendship, and positive acclaim. If she knows this, she has
not indicated any such thing; this is Laches’ opinion.250 Bacchis has indicated several times that
she is motivated by her affection for Pamphilus, which compels her to do whatever she can to
bring about his happiness. It is for his wellbeing, not her own, that she is willing to face the
unpleasant task of meeting with Philumena.
250
Carney 1963: ad 797-98 argues that this is a direct reference to the Scipionic code of virtus,
whereby one wins gloria through facta performed under the proper code of conduct. However,
the charge of self-interest (that a courtesan will do a citizen a favor in order to earn her freedom)
is seen even in Menander, e.g. Epitrepontes 538-40.
191
Terence adds an unusual element to Bacchis’ reluctance. She is not only afraid of social
censure, she is also ashamed: perii, pudet Philumenae. (“I’m a goner. I’m ashamed before
Philumena,” 793). One can fear social censure without having done anything to deserve it, for
such judgments can certainly be unfair. Bacchis, however, seems to think she has actively done
something worth being ashamed of. Athenians did not deem prostitutes to be inherently immoral,
and they viewed a free hetaira selling her own body much as they would any other selfemployed businessperson selling his wares.251 Thus Bacchis cannot be ashamed simply of the
fact that she is a prostitute; she must be ashamed of something she has done. She took pains to
end her relationship with Pamphilus as soon as he married, although she still felt great affection
for him. She did not elicit a few last payments from him, although she could have. Perhaps
because she loved Pamphilus, she felt it was not right to continue the affair after his wedding.
And although they were no longer having sexual relations, Pamphilus continued to pay visits to
Bacchis (157-59), because Pamphilus had a difficult time getting over his love for her and an
even more difficult time transferring his affections to his new wife. Perhaps it is for these
reasons, then, that Bacchis is ashamed before Philumena. Although unusual for a woman of her
profession, she believes it is not right to continue a relationship with a married man, and is
embarrassed that she continued to hold Pamphilus’ affection after his marriage, even though it
was not her fault. She says:
eo, etsi scio pol is fore meum conspectum invisum hodie.
nam nupta meretrici hostis est, a viro ubi segregatast.
(788-89)
I will go, even if I know, by Pollux, that the sight of me today will be hateful to them. For
a married woman is hostile to a courtesan, especially when she is separated from her
husband.
251
Cohen 2006: 99-101.
192
While married women dislike courtesans in general, Bacchis knows she will be particularly
unwelcome because Philumena and her husband are having marital problems, and Bacchis fears
she is somehow to blame for this.
Bacchis succeeds in mending the marriage in an unexpected way: by means of a token
that Bacchis had, Philumena realizes that Pamphilus is the man who raped her and so the father
of her child. Bacchis is genuinely happy to be the cause of such great fortune for Pamphilus
(816-20), since it was he that she wanted to help the most:
haec tot propter me gaudia illi contigisse laetor:
etsi hoc meretrices aliae nolunt; neque enim est in rem nostram
ut quisquam amator nuptiis laetetur. verum ecastor
numquam animum quaesti gratia ad malas adducam partis.
ego dum illo licitumst usa sum benigno et lepido et comi.
incommode mihi nuptiis evenit, factum fateor:
at pol me fecisse arbitror ne id merito mi eveniret.
multa ex quo fuerint commoda, eius incommoda aequomst ferre.
(833-840)
I am glad that such great joy has come to him on account of me, even if other meretrices
would not wish for these things; for it is not in our best interest for any lover to be
happily married. But, by Castor, I never let my thoughts stray into malicious territory on
account of profit. I, while it was permitted, enjoyed him and his kindness, charm, and
good looks. It was inconvenient for me when he got married, I confess: but by Pollux, I
think that I acted in such a way that I did not deserve the inconvenience. When something
gives you many conveniences, it is only fair to endure some inconvenience.
She wants Pamphilus to be happy because he made her happy in the past. She acknowledges that
a successful marriage is directly at odds with the courtesan business, but it is more important to
her to behave honorably. She stresses that she never had “evil things” (mala) in her heart or
mind, and that she has done nothing to deserve the inconveniences she suffered as a result of her
marriage. She distinguishes herself from other courtesans, who suffer inconvenience as
retribution for selfish or mercenary behavior. She stresses that she always put his wishes before
her own. She holds herself to a high standard of ethics, desiring to always be charitable both in
193
her actions and in her thoughts. Furthermore, she is satisfied if she adheres to this code no matter
what others think of her and even if no one knows what she has done.
Because this is New Comedy, where things are often designed to work out neatly, there
are many positive consequences of Bacchis’ decision to take the social risk of visiting
Philumena. She does win all of the favors that Laches foretold, and the friendship of a citizen
family does include many practical perks. But there is one consequence that no one anticipated:
Bacchis discovers that she likes Philumena:
{BA} recte amasti, Pamphile, uxorem tuam;
nam numquam ante hunc diem meis oculis eam, quod nossem, videram:
perliberalis visast. {PA} dic verum. {BA} ita me di ament, Pamphile.
(862-64)
{BA} You were right in loving your wife, Pamphilus; for I had never before today laid
eyes on her, as you know: she seems to be quite the lady.252
{PA} Say you mean it!
{BA} I really do, Pamphilus.
Bacchis was not in the position to have an informed opinion about Philumena at the beginning of
the play, nor was Philumena in a position to have an informed opinion about Bacchis, since the
two had never even met. Now that they have, however, Bacchis decides that Pamphilus has done
well in his marriage and even compliments his new wife. Pamphilus is eager to confirm that his
old lover actually approves of his marriage and his bride, and she gives him the confirmation that
he seeks. Bacchis took the risk, approached someone she was not supposed to approach, and
discovered that, if they put prejudice aside and take the time to have a real conversation,
matronae and meretrices can actually be friendly towards one another – I will not go so far as to
say friends.
252
Carney 1963: ad 864 says perliberalis “denotes the ease and grace of manner that
distinguishes a free person in contrast with the vulgarity of a slave.”
194
iv. Philumena’s Choice
Poor Philumena gets no lines and no stage time, but is central to the plot and many of the
relationships that are investigated in the play. From the title, Hecyra, we know that the play will
examine the relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. An early conversation
between Laches and Phidippus indicates the cultural expectation that a mother will be at odds
with her son’s wife, and the withdrawal of Philumena to her birth home demonstrates that she is
not confiding in her mother-in-law. When Philumena found herself pregnant by someone other
than her husband, or so she thought, she assumed that no one in her husband’s house would take
this news well. She may have been right, too: a young bride’s value to her husband’s family is
tied to her chastity. It is reasonable to assume that Sostrata would share the news of the
pregnancy with Laches, who would attempt to end the marriage. In Chapter 2, I argued that a
marriage creates the opportunity for the women of two households to become friends, but
Sostrata does not yet appear to have a bond with her in-laws. The two families have only been
connected by marriage for a few months, and the marriage has not produced the male heir that
often cements such an alliance. Although Laches and Phidippus are friends, Sostrata and
Myrrhina do not appear to play any sizeable role in each other’s lives. In sum, there is no
evidence for bonds of affection between the women of the two households. When Philumena
finds herself pregnant, she has no reason to expect support from Sostrata, and no reason to expect
that Sostrata would be willing to keep her secret.
Philumena’s choice, then, is really a lack of choice: she believes that the only option is to
withdraw to her mother’s. There she becomes utterly dependent upon the women of her own
household– her mother and handmaids – to keep her secret. Because of their affection and
loyalty, they are the only people willing to make Philumena’s happiness the highest priority.
195
Philumena never gave her mother-in-law the chance to prove her trustworthiness, since it was
too risky to even approach her.
There is much ado about Philumena’s relationship with Bacchis, who is supposed to be
her sworn enemy. Several of the characters (Myrrhina, Laches, Phidippus) assume that Bacchis
will be a problem for Philumena and that a new bride would resent her husband’s lover. They
manufacture a great rivalry between meretrix and nupta that lasts almost the entire duration of
the play, but in the end we discover that Bacchis was never a threat. The social conventions that
keep meretrices and matrones apart allow the theory of the rivalry to persist, since no one ever
bothers to ask Philumena whether Bacchis is really the problem (to Phidippus’ credit, Myrrhina
blames Bacchis for the separation, and Phidippus is guilty only of believing his wife without
seeking further confirmation from his daughter). Bacchis, as I demonstrated above, was certainly
aware of possible tension and on that account was reluctant to meet Philumena, but Philumena
always knew that Bacchis had nothing to do with her current dilemma. It was only a socially
prescribed rivalry; when the two women actually meet, they discover that they are not enemies at
all. In fact, the encounter has a positive outcome, bringing happiness to both women.
v. Summary
In this rich play, Terence gives three women the opportunity to discuss their decisionmaking processes on stage: Sostrata, Myrrhina, and Bacchis. The play investigates several kinds
of relationships that we have seen in other comedies, but with new attention to analyzing the
women’s motivations and ethical stance. We have looked at several mother-daughter pairs thus
far, but none in which both mother and daughter were citizens. Myrrhina indicates that it is of the
utmost importance for her to protect her daughter, regardless of how her decisions affect other
people, including herself. Her goals for her daughter are more explicitly stated than those of the
196
courtesan Melaenis towards her adopted daughter Selenium in the Cistellaria, but the fervor with
which she devotes herself to her daughter’s wellbeing is similar to that of Cleareta in the
Asinaria. Sostrata, meanwhile, is concerned largely with her own reputation, and explains at
length that for a woman in old age, access to a female network of social support is of less
importance. Unlike the neighboring women of the Casina, Sostrata and Myrrhina have no
established friendship. Bacchis, finally, is the quintessential hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold because
she actually loves her lover in return, and is willing to make personal sacrifices to ensure his
happiness. This is the fantasy that adulescentes of New Comedy dream about. While the motives
of courtesans who interact with citizen women in other plays are often ambiguous and
complicated, Terence has taken pains to be quite clear regarding Bacchis.
Each woman is willing to personally risk her security in order to do what is “right” by
varying degrees and definitions: Sostrata does what is necessary to ensure the success of her
son’s marriage, but for selfish reasons disguised in noble ones; Myrrhina does the right thing for
her daughter, but does not worry if she unfairly harms the reputation of anyone else; only
Bacchis does the right thing because it is right, deciding that she cannot remain idle if she has it
in her power to help Pamphilus, whom she deems a to be a good man and deserving of her
affection. Their ethical deliberations highlight the social realities with which they are faced:
Myrrhina must choose between her identity as wife and mother, and Sostrata between her
identity as a member of an oikos and member of a community; Bacchis, meanwhile, is treated by
others as a hetaira but makes decisions based on her identity as a young girl in love, who wants
to be respected by other women and men. In all, they are complex characters who cannot be
contained by the limited social roles to which their other characters assign them.
197
D. Menander’s Epitrepontes: A Courtesan Meets her Lover’s Wife
It is difficult to overlook the similarities in plot between Terence’s Hecyra and
Menander’s Epitrepontes. For a time, scholars assumed that Terence had been directly
influenced by the Epitrepontes, but this was due largely to the excitement of rediscovering the
Menandrian play in the early twentieth century, while the Hecyra of Apollodorus, the true model
for Terence’s play, remained lost.253 In both Terence’s play and the Epitrepontes, a man
withdraws from his new wife because she has given birth to an illegitimate child, the offspring of
a rape perpetrated before the marriage. The woman’s legal husband is discovered to be the father
of the baby by means of tokens. In both plays, the families believe that the estrangement is due to
the young man’s love of a courtesan, who eventually brings about the recognition and
reconciliation. The Hecyra focused on the men’s prejudices against mothers-in-law, allowing us
to examine the relationships of mothers with their children and their children-in-law. The
Epitrepontes, by contrast, is more concerned with the relationship troubles of the young man,
Charisios, and the dispute between slaves over the baby, which turns out to be Charisios’ son.
When Charisios discovers that his wife has given birth, he moves in with his friend next door,
Chairestratos, and takes up with the courtesan, Habrotonon. Because this play, unlike the
Hecyra, is focused on Charisios’ relationships, we see more of the estranged wife, Pamphile,
whose father pressures her to divorce. Habrotonon takes a significantly more proactive role in
reconciling the lovers than Bacchis of the Hecyra did. In this section, I will examine
Habrotonon’s decision to pose as the mother of the foundling, Pamphile’s internal-struggle, and
the relationship between the two women.
253
Ireland 1990: 13. Although Epitrepontes is not the direct model for Terence’s Hecyra, Capps
1981: 42 concludes that Apollodorus’ Hecyra was influenced by the Epitrepontes.
198
The Epitrepontes is fragmentary and a substantial portion of the beginning is lost,
including a probable explanatory prologue,254 but we can reconstruct the back-story from how
the play unfolds. Charisios raped Pamphile at the Tauropoleia four months before their wedding,
but neither was aware of the other’s identity. In the struggle, Pamphile ended up with Charisios’
ring, a token by which the rapist is later identified. Habrotonon had been the music-player at the
festival, and she saw Pamphile just after the rape. She never knew Pamphile’s name nor saw her
again after that night, and so does not know that her lover’s wife is the same girl, but she would
be able to recognize Pamphile if she saw her again. Pamphile abandoned the baby with tokens,
including Charisios’ ring, after which the baby was adopted by a slave.
In the course of the play, Charisios’ own slave, Onesimos, recognizes the ring as that of
his master and shares that knowledge with Habrotonon, who immediately objects that Charisios’
baby is being raised by a slave (468-79).255 Her interest in the baby is hard to pin down, but her
affection for Charisios is indicated by her prior actions: after suffering the rebukes of Charisios’
father-in-law, who is upset about his daughter’s marital problems, Habrotonon takes care to warn
Charisios that his angry father-in-law has arrived (164). She later expresses disappointment that
Charisios, who left his wife and hired Habrotonon two days prior, is ignoring her, both socially
and sexually.256 When she first decides to take the baby, she is thinking of Charisios: she
believes she would recognize the girl who was raped at the Tauropoleia (484), and states that, if
the mother is freeborn, this would benefit Charisios:
ἐὰν δὲ νοῦν ἔχηις
ἐμοί τε πείθηι, τοῦτο πρὸς τὸν δεσπότην
254
Most scholars assume that the delayed prologue was spoken by a divinity, since no human
character in the play knew all of the essential facts that are usually dispensed to the audience at
the start of New Comedy. See Arnott 1979: 387-88; Martina 1997: 29-41; Furley 2009: 8-10.
255
Text and line numbers for Epitrepontes are from Furley 2009.
256
Furley 2009 ad 432 notes that prostitutes do not ordinarily care whether their customers show
them affection, as long as they pay, which Charisios is.
199
φανερὸν ποήσεις· εἰ γάρ ἐστ’ ἐλευθέρας
παιδός, τί τοῦτον λανθάνειν δεῖ τὸ γεγονός;
(493-96)
If you were wise and followed my advise, you would make this [situation] clear to your
master. For if the mother is freeborn, why should we hide the birth?
She understands that the baby (a boy, of course) could be good for Charisios: since he has not yet
produced a child with his new wife, that marriage could easily be dissolved so that Charisios
could marry the freeborn mother of his child. Since the production of a male heir is one of the
most important goals of a marriage, no one would be surprised if Charisios opted to leave a
currently childless marriage in favor of a sure thing.257 These are the hints that she feels genuine
affection for Charisios and desires to help him, but the evidence is not nearly as strong as it is
with Bacchis in Terence’s Hecyra, and the evidence is by no means unambiguous.
Onesimos asks Habrotonon to first help him find out who the mother is, before informing
Charisios – he previously expressed a fear that the news of a baby would be unwelcome to
Charisios (450), and Onesimos does not want to be the bearer of bad news. To him, confronting
Charisios is risky, but verifying the mother first decreases that risk. To Habrotonon, it is the
opposite: she is able to identify the mother, but she is only willing to confront a citizen woman if
she is absolutely certain who the father is. For this reason, she wants to first verify that the raped
girl took the ring directly from Charisios, not from a third party (for example, someone to whom
Charisios had lost the ring in a gamble 502-7). She expresses her hesitation to approach the
women for whom she played music at the Tauropoleia:
οὐκ ἂν δυναίμην, τὸν ἀδικοῦντα πρὶν σ[αφῶς
τίς ἐστιν εἰδέναι. φοβοῦμαι τοῦτ’ ἐγ[ώ,
μάτην τι μηνύειν πρὸς ἐκείνας ἃς λ[έγω.
…
257
(499‑501)
In the event of a divorce, Charisios’ father loses social ties to Pamphile’s family, but, unlike
in some New Comedies, there is no indication that the two patriarchs have an especially strong
friendship which they desire to cement through marriage; we can assume that there are other,
equally advantageous links.
200
πρὶν εἰδέναι δὲ τὸν ἀδικοῦντ’ οὐ βούλομαι
ζητεῖν ἐκείνην οὐδὲ μηνύειν ἐγὼ
τοιοῦτον οὐδέν.
(508-10)
I would not be able [to help you, Onesimos], not until I knew [for sure] the identity of the
person who committed the injustice.258 I am afraid of this: giving information at random
to those women whom I am speaking of. … Before I know who committed the injustice, I
do not want to look for the girl nor reveal anything at all.
Habrotonon understands that her information would be detrimental to the girl, who may already
be married to someone else. She has kept the rape a secret since she witnessed it at the
Tauropoleia, and now she hesitates to reveal it to “those women” (ἐκείνας) unless she can be
sure the baby belongs to Charisios. Perhaps she wishes to protect the girl, having decided that it
is not right to risk her reputation without at least the possibility of a happy ending (for Charisios
appears to be eligible for re-marriage). Perhaps, too, Habrotonon worries that the citizen women
will treat her with suspicion and assume she has sinister motives. Unfortunately, she is aware
that her social superiors are likely to assume the worst of her. Pamphile’s father, Smikrines,
treated her quite disrespectfully, probably while blaming her for the marital problems between
his daughter and Charisios (the text is fragmentary): οὐκ ἐς κόρακας; οἰμώξει μακρά (“Go to
hell! You’ll be very sorry for this!” 160). At the time of the Tauropoleia, she says she “did not
yet know men” (479), and she mingled comfortably with the citizen girls as their music-player.
Now, however, she is an active hetaira and a threat to young citizen women: the money that she
earns from married men would otherwise be used to support their wives (the very fear that
Smikrines expresses to Pamphile at 749-55), and she has the power to capture the affections of
their husbands. She has already experienced the prejudice of Smikrines, and anticipates prejudice
from the women: she is not willing to approach them unless she can be certain that the encounter
will work to everyone’s advantage: hers, the girl’s, and Charisios’.
258
I.e., the rape.
201
While Habrotonon’s own actions and words do not suggest selfish motives, Onesimos
assumes them, and she does not entirely deny it. In order to discover if Charisios is indeed the
father, she proposes that she pretend to be the mother of the baby, presenting herself as the girl
who was raped. Onesimos undercuts her, saying she has “omitted” (οὐ λέγεις, 538) an important
fact, that this scheme could earn her freedom (539). In saying she deliberately omitted it, he
presupposes that it was on her mind, of which there is no indication. Habrotonon responds to this
suggestion hesitantly, as if she had not yet thought about it: οὒκ οἶδα· βουλοίμην δ’ ἄν (“I
don’t know. It is what I would like,” 541). Onesimos does not believe her, and begins to wonder
whether she simply plans to keep the baby and use it to secure the lasting support of Charisios
(544-46). Habrotonon responds that she definitely does not want a baby, just her freedom, which
she hopes to win as a reward for this scheme (546-49).259 Onesimos now hesitates, because he
realizes that the plan carries a certain risk to his mistress, Pamphile, which could bring
punishment to him: if the baby belongs to Charisios and a different citizen woman, Charisios will
most likely divorce Pamphile to marry the mother of son, thereby making that son his legitimate
heir (565-71). Habrotonon must know this, too (recall her comment, “If the mother is freeborn,
why keep him in the dark?”). Her motives at this point are very confusing, perhaps intentionally
so, since the audience experiences more suspense if they cannot predict her actions.260 She
appears to want to help Charisios and herself, and possibly whoever was raped at the
Tauropoleia, but not Pamphile, whom Charisios might divorce when the mother is discovered
(although it appears he might divorce her anyway), and she may be intentionally misleading
259
Traill 2008: 203 argues that “[t]he scheme for freedom is largely a product of Onesimos’
envy,” demonstrating that he has consistently attributed his own motivations to Habrotonon
throughout the scene.
260
See Traill 2008: 224 for a summary of the scholarly interpretations of Habrotonon’s motives.
Traill argues that the diversity of scholarly opinions reflects directly upon Menander’s deliberate
ambiguity as to her character.
202
Onesimos, since the two appear to be rivals for citizen gratitude in this whole affair. It is clear,
however, that Onesimos and Smikrines assume the worst of her, and their onstage recriminations
set up an audience expectation regarding her behavior, an expectation that will of course be
thwarted.
Meanwhile, Smikrines tries to remove Pamphile from her marriage on account of the
moral shortcomings of her husband.261 When she objects (714-15), Smikrines explains in detail
why Habrotonon’s presence is harmful to her. He says he will give three reasons (720), but
unfortunately the text is in rather poor condition, with about twenty-three lines missing.262 In the
extant text, he makes a financial argument: by supporting a courtesan, Charisios will have to
spend twice as much money (749-51). He also makes an emotional argument: Charisios will
neglect his husbandly duties to spend time with Habrotonon, and Pamphile will feel abandoned
(752-56). Pamphile counters, in what Arnott calls “one of the finest defences of marital loyalty
extant in ancient Greek.”263 Her ethical position is analyzed at length by Traill: while Smikrines
offers practical, financial, and emotional arguments, Pamphile cannot refute his points without
revealing that her husband left her because of the bastard child (nothos) which she birthed.
Therefore, her strategy is to rely on moral arguments: she tells her father that her decision is not
a matter of prudence, but what is right. She emphasizes the role of fate, suggesting that
Smikrines does not have the power to ensure a good marriage for her; she downplays Charisios’
indiscretions with Habrotonon; and she states that it is a wife’s duty to remain with her husband
even in hard times.264 Her arguments are familiar from the resisting-daughter topos, discussed in
the section on the Stichus, above. She is unusually articulate, a necessity if she is to be a worthy
261
Smikrines’ “rampage” is analyzed by Furley 2009: 198-209.
For a summary of the sources for this play, see Furley 2009: 31-35.
263
Arnott 2004a: 277.
264
Traill 2008: 205-23.
262
203
opponent to Smikrines in this debate.265 Pamphile’s behavior is not quite what her husband or
father expects, because she does not identify with the social roles that they project onto her: both
believe she will leave voluntarily, her husband because she is a shamed bride, and her father
because she is an obedient daughter.266 Instead, she plays the role of a faithful wife, as if
diligently honoring a husband who is unwillingly absent, like Penelope to Odysseus.
In his argument, Smikrines vilifies Habrotonon, not unexpectedly. His views regarding
enmity between citizen wives and courtesans, especially the ones that are involved with their
husbands, are conventional. He says:
χαλεπόν, Παμ[φίλη,
ἑλευθέραι γυναικὶ πρὸς πόρνην μάχη.
πλείονα πανουργεῖ, πλείον’ οἶδ’, αἰσχύνεται
οὐδεν, κολακεύει μᾶλλον, αἰσχρῶν [ἅπτεται.]
(793-96)
It is difficult, Pamphile, for a free woman to compete with a whore: she pulls off more
evil tricks, knows more, is entirely shameless, is better at flattering, and undertakes
shameful things.
His attack on Habrotonon is strategic, an effort to exculpate Charisios and make him appear the
victim. He is “trying to stir up his daughter’s anger against a woman he assumes she hates,
unlike her husband, whom she might conceivably forgive.”267 As in the Hecyra and Cistellaria,
Pamphile and Habrotonon face a socially prescribed rivalry: their needs are at odds, and a long
cultural history might lead each to believe that other has innately despicable morals. Such are the
obstacles, then, that impede any sort of positive relationship between Pamphile and Habrotonon.
New Comedy often puts a twist on relationships, and in this particular play, unusual
circumstances mean that it is actually to the advantage of Pamphile and Habrotonon to meet and
collaborate, although neither is fully aware of those circumstances. Habrotonon understands that
265
266
267
Furley 2009: 218.
Traill 2008: 223.
Traill 2008: 200.
204
she must approach a citizen woman in order to achieve her aims; Pamphile is in the dark and
distraught (her eyes are “burnt with weeping”268). Furley captures the emotional intensity of the
scene: “Menander took matters to the brink. Pamphile felt deserted by her husband and her
father, who, presumably, had given her an ultimatum to leave her husband. Then the downward
trend of the action is turned around by the fortuitous meeting of Charisios’ two women.”269 Their
meeting occurs as follows: having identified Charisios securely as the father of the baby,
Habrotonon sets out to find the mother. She steps outside and immediately spots Pamphile in the
doorway of the neighboring house, recognizing her as the girl who was raped at the Tauropoleia.
She does not know Pamphile’s name, but she suspects that Pamphile is Charisios’ wife, since
Pamphile is standing in Charisios’ doorway (a short time later, she says, ἀλλ’] οὐ σε τὴν
νύμφην ὁρῶ | τὴν ἔνδον οὖσαν; “Aren’t you his wife, from inside [that house]?” 872-73).
Knowing Pamphile’s true identity, there is significant social risk in approaching her. As
Smikrines has pointed out, Habrotonon is paid with money that would otherwise go towards the
maintenance of Charisios’ marital household. She has every reason to suspect that she will not be
well received, which is part of the reason why she wanted a solid story before approaching the
baby’s mother. In gathering the courage to approach Pamphile, Habrotonon may draw some
social comfort from the fact that they are age-mates and once participated in the same religious
and social gathering. Furthermore, Pamphile is alone: Habrotonon said she was afraid to
approach “those women” (ἐκείνας, 501) with an uncertain story; now she is approaching a
solitary individual with a definite story (and possibly good news, depending on whether you
believe it is good news that a rape victim gets to marry her rapist and thereby achieve social
268
ἐξετύφην μὲν οὖν κλαίουσ’ ὅλως (Koerte and Thierfelder 1957: v. 1, p. 34), which is
thought by most to be from this play, spoken by Pamphile after her father leaves the stage.
269
Furley 2009: 209.
205
stability). Pamphile, meanwhile, has no idea who Habrotonon is, although she can probably
conclude that Habrotonon is a courtesan from her dress,270 and the fact that she is out in the street
without an escort (whereas Pamphile, the good citizen girl, is standing in her doorway).
Habrotonon acts quickly, lest Pamphile misinterpret her reasons for approaching: she has
not come as a rival, but as a collaborator. She hails Pamphile, who hesitates, asking, “τί[ς δ’ εἶ]
σύ;” (“Who are you?” 861). Encountering suspicion already, Habrotonon extends a hand as a
peace offering (χεῖρα δεῦρό μοι τὴν σὴν δίδου. “Give me your hand,” 861), and tries to
confirm that Pamphile is indeed the girl whom she saw at the Tauropoleia (862-63). She has kept
the baby prominently displayed, however, and Pamphile changes the topic of conversation to the
baby’s origins (866-67). Habrotonon makes a concerted effort to reassure Pamphile while
controlling the conversation so that Pamphile does not have time to flee or become hostile. She
says:
[Ἁβ] ὁρᾶις τι, φιλτάτη, σοι γνώριμον
ὧν] τοῦτ’ ἔχει; μηδέν με δείσηις, ὦ γύναι.
[Πα] οὐκ ἔτεκες αὐτὴ τοῦτο;
[Ἁβ] προσεποιησάμην,
οὐχ ἵν’ ἀδικήσω τὴν τεκοῦσαν, ἀλλ’ ἵνα
κατὰ σχολὴν εὕροιμι. νῦν δ’ εὕρηκα· σὲ
ὁρῶ γάρ, ἣν καὶ τότε.
(865-
70)
{HA} Do you see something, dearest one, that you recognize? Some of these things it
has? You should not be afraid of me, woman.
{PA} But didn’t you yourself give birth to this child?
{HA} I was pretending, not to do an injustice to the mother, but so that I might have the
time to find her. Now I have found her: for I am now looking at you, and you are the one
whom I saw then.
Pamphile needs Habrotonon for vital information: her future depends on what the courtesan says.
For this reason Pamphile does not bother with introductions and social formalities, but gets right
270
Olson 2006: 192-200 examines the evidence regarding the different visual cues
differentiating matronae and meretrices.
206
to the point by asking who the baby’s father is. Habrotonon reveals that it is Charisios and asks,
“Aren’t you his wife?” (872). Once Pamphile says yes, both women are in possession of all of
the information and able to become fully cooperating allies. Habrotonon hears someone coming
from the house next door (it could be Charisios, for all she knows), and quickly asks to be invited
inside, to which Pamphile readily agrees. The two women now have the same goal: reuniting
husband and wife with the news of the legitimate heir.
As with the Hecyra, the playwright creates suspense by constructing a plot in which two
women must defy expectations in order for the adulescens to achieve social success. In both
plays, the courtesan is willing to take the risk of confronting her former lover’s wife, but where
Menander makes Habrotonon’s motives ambiguous, Terence (or perhaps Apollodorus)
repeatedly emphasizes that Bacchis acts selflessly. In both plays, the disgraced and estranged
wife has little to lose by receiving the courtesan. We only see this encounter directly in the
Epitrepontes, and it is clear that Pamphile receives Habrotonon out of desperation, but the
meeting is mitigated by Habrotonon’s successful presentation of herself as non-threatening. In
each play, it takes a woman of low status but a great deal of practical freedom to bring security to
a woman of comparatively high status. It is only because the Habrotonon is free to go out in
public and strike up conversations with many people that she is able to uncover the identity of
the baby and rescue Pamphile from a desperate situation (perhaps inadvertently, if Habrotonon’s
true goal was to rescue Charisios from his undesirable situation). In turn, each of the courtesans
is rewarded with the patronage of a high-status citizen male – a convention of New Comedy.271
271
Habrotonon does not receive any reward in the extant lines of the play, but it is highly
probable that this occurred in the now lost ending. It is the outcome that the audience has been
expecting ever since Onesimos suggested it and Habrotonon proved worthy of it. It would follow
naturally from the scene in Act 4 wherein Habrotonon shares the good news with Charisios and
he openly expresses his joy.
207
The citizen wife needs the courtesan to clear her name, and the courtesan needs the citizen wife
(and through her the citizen male) to achieve financial security. Thus we are left with a bizarre
sort of symbiotic relationship, in which the courtesan and the freeborn wife are dependent upon
each other to achieve social stability.
While Bacchis has a decidedly noble character in the Hecyra, and the young bride is
never seen nor heard from, it is Pamphile in the Epitrepontes who has the most impeccable
morals. In fact, her upstanding character is the inspiration for her husband, Charisios, to
acknowledge that he treated her unfairly and to feel remorse at his own cruelty. The young
husband of the Hecyra feels no such regret, and in fact never suffers for his immoral behavior.
He even manages to keep his role in the rape a secret from his father and avoid chastisement.
While Menander’s play presents an upstanding young citizen woman who is a moral role model
for a young citizen male, Terence (and possibly Apollodorus?) presents a scenario in which only
the courtesan can be said to have unimpeachable character (at least, of those characters who
appear on stage), and she thoroughly puts the citizen men to shame.
E. Menander’s Samia: The Concubine Next Door
I end with the Samia because it introduces a new type of character to my dissertation, the
pallake. There are some similarities in plot to the Epitrepontes: a citizen girl (Plangon) has
recently given birth and a courtesan (Chrysis) pretends to be the mother. Like the Hecyra,
Plangon’s mother makes every effort to protect her daughter’s secret. Unlike these two plays, the
courtesan of Samia is not involved with the father of the baby (although such a relationship is at
one point suspected), but more significantly, the three women – Chrysis, Plangon, and her
mother – have lived next door to each other for some time and have a well-established
208
friendship. In this play, I will examine how they rely on each other to protect Plangon’s secret
and themselves.
I provide a short background to illustrate the relationship between the two households of
which the women are members: the first is headed by the affluent Demeas, and the second by the
much poorer Nikeratos. Demeas lives with his pallake Chrysis, a former hetaira who has taken
up permanent dwelling with Demeas, and his adopted son, Moschion.272 Nine months prior to the
start of the play, Moschion impregnated Nikeratos’ unmarried daughter, Plangon. Moschion
promised Plangon and her mother that he would marry Plangon, but out of fear and shame he
told neither of the fathers. As I described in Chapter 2, Moschion informs us in his introductory
monologue that the Chrysis, Plangon, and Plangon’s (unnamed) mother have a long-standing
friendship and often spend time at each other’s houses (35-38).273 When the play begins, Plangon
has just given birth to the baby. During the course of the play, Chrysis agrees to pose as mother
of the baby in order to protect the secret of Moschion and Plangon. This causes social difficulties
for Chrysis, but she receives help and support from Plangon and her mother. It also sets off a
chain of misunderstandings that require the characters to constantly reassess and make new
decisions.
Let us first examine the decision made by Chrysis to pose as mother of the baby. In order
to understand the magnitude of the risks involved, we must understand what precisely she has
272
Traill 2008: 156 states that Chrysis, as a hetaira would have been treated with contempt by
the community, but Gomme and Sandbach 1973: 30 explains that pallakai were not looked down
upon by citizen women in the way that hetairai were, because pallakai rarely compete with
citizen wives. Fantham 1975: 50 elaborates that a man might take a concubine if his wife has
died and his son is grown (as is the case with Demeas), because such a relationship provides him
with the companionship of a woman and her practical help around the household, but cannot
produce a legitimate son to compete with the living heir.
273
Text and line numbers for Samia are from Sandbach 1972.
209
agreed to do. Unfortunately, the fragmentary nature of the text somewhat complicates the details
surrounding her decision:
{ΜΟ} ἀπὸ ταὐτομάτου δὲ συμβέβηκε καὶ μάλ’ <εὖ>·
ἔτικτε]ν ἡ Χρυσίς· καλοῦμεν τοῦτο γὰρ
]ο̣νεου πάλαι
* * * lacuna of 29 lines * * *
(55-57)
By chance things turned out well. Chrysis – for that is her name – [gave birth] [ ] a while
ago [ …”
It would be helpful if we knew whether Chrysis meant to pose as the mother of the baby
permanently, or just until after the wedding, at which point it would be acceptable for Moschion
and Plangon to admit having a child together. The first situation has many and definite long term
consequences; the second could conceivably have few. Scholars have hotly debated this issue,
usually focusing their argument on whether or not she was capable of breast-feeding the baby,
which would be necessary for a permanent adoption.274 If Chrysis had recently given birth
herself, then she would have been able to breastfeed the child, and her maternal status is exactly
the type of background information we would expect in the lacuna of Moschion’s introductory
monologue. I accept the supplement of Sandbach (ἔτικτεν 56) and his conclusion that Chrysis
had lost a baby fairly recently.275 Regardless, most scholars believe, and I agree, that the
arrangement is only temporary, and Chrysis intends to restore the baby to its parents soon.276
New Comedy is a genre of coincidences, and we are supposed to accept these coincidences
without much thought. Whatever Moschion said in his monologue would have convinced us that
Chrysis could successfully pose as the mother. A neat explanation would have followed the
phrase “Things turned out well,” explaining how fortuitous events made his scheme possible. It
274
Several key articles in the debate are Sandbach 1986, Dedoussi 1988, and West 1991.
Sandbach 1986: 159. Here Sandbach states that his supplement of ἔτικτεν is not entirely
satisfactory and states that the right word is yet to be found.
276
Hofmann 1975: 170; Blanchard 1983: 129; Dedoussi 1988: 41.
275
210
is also important to remember that New Comedy has a fairly immediate focus: Moschion and
Plangon have a problem now; Chrysis takes the baby now; Demeas and Nikeratos will react to
what is immediately apparent; repercussions will ensue; new decisions will be made; et cetera.
The immediate risks that Chrysis faces are the same regardless of how long she intends to
keep the baby, since her lover Demeas could only assume she meant to keep the baby
permanently. Our surviving text shows Chrysis weighing these risks in a conversation with
Moschion and his slave:
{Μο}
τὸ παιδίον
οὕτως ἐῶμεν ὡς ἔχει ταύτην τρέφειν
αὐτήν τε φάσκειν τετοκέναι;
{Χρ}
τί δὴ γὰρ οὔ;
{Μο} ὁ πατὴρ χαλεπανεῖ <σοι>.
{Χρ}
πεπαύσεται πάλιν.
ἐρᾶι γάρ, ὦ βέλτιστε, κἀκεῖνος κακῶς,
οὐχ ἧττον ἢ σύ· τοῦτο δ’ εἰς διαλλαγὰς
ἄγει τάχιστα καὶ τὸν ὀργιλώτατον.
πρότερον δ’ ἔγωγε πάντ’ ἂν ὑπομεῖναι δοκῶ
ἢ τοῦτο τίτθην ἐν συνοικίαι τινὶ
* * * lacuna of 23 lines * * *
(77-85)
{MO} The baby, are we to allow her to go on raising it, as she is now, and to claim that
she is the one who bore him?
{CH} Why in the world not?
{MO} Father will go ballistic on you!
{CH} So what? He’ll get over it in time. You see, my boy, he is just as lovesick as you
are. That drives even the most hot-tempered man to make a truce very quickly! I think I
could put up with anything before a nurse [ ] this baby in some tenement [
Moschion here makes explicit the danger that Demeas will lose his temper with her, but Chrysis
explains that this risk is not sufficient to dissuade her from her intentions.277 She knows he will
277
Harrison 1998: 70-71 and MacDowell 1978: 91 explain that when a child was born to an
Athenian male, it was customary for the father to formally acknowledge it or reject it, and that
acknowledgement was necessary for the child to become part of his father’s oikos and deme.
Thus the formal recognition of a child entitles it to certain resources in his father’s house and
privileges in the polis. Since Demeas already has a legitimate son, Moschion, recognition of
Chrysis’ baby would diminish Moschion’s share of the estate and threaten his livelihood. See
Lacey 1980: 164-65 on the danger of dividing the inheritance between two male heirs. Harrison
1998: 68-70 discusses another danger: according to Perikles’ citizenship law of 451/0 (re-enacted
211
get mad, but she does not care. Chrysis is very clear about her motivation: she is taking the baby
because she does not want to see him in the care of a stranger. We may speculate on additional
motives or deeper motives, but it is clear that on some level she acts simply out of fondness for
the baby, a fondness that might be increased by the fact that the baby is the progeny of her
friends, Plangon and Moschion.
The second motive is offered by Moschion, when he says that Chrysis is pretending to be
the mother of the baby as a favor to him:
{ΜΟ} οὐχὶ Χρυσίς ἐστι μήτηρ οὗ τρέφει νῦν παιδίου,
ἀλλ’ ἐμοὶ χαρίζεται τοῦθ’ ὁμολογοῦσ’ αὑτῆς.
(523-24)
Chrysis is not the mother of the baby whom she is now raising, but she is doing a favor to
me by saying it’s hers.
We have already seen two examples of courtesans, a status somewhat akin to that of a pallake,
who enact a plan in order to earn the favor of a stable and affluent family: Thais of Terence’s
Eunuch claims this explicitly as her motive when she endeavors to reunite her foster sister with
the girl’s citizen family (148-149), and Habrotonon of Menander’s Epitrepontes hopes that she
can gain her freedom by reconciling a pair of lovers (548-49). In the Samia, however, it is
Moschion, not Chrysis, who claims that Chrysis is taking the baby as a favor to him, and there is
no talk of potential rewards. Furthermore, since Chrysis already has a stable position in Demeas’
household, she does not need a citizen patron like Thais of the Eunuch; Chrysis needs merely to
not lose her current supporter. While her actions may indeed earn Moschion’s gratitude, this
appears to be no more than an afterthought for her, or perhaps a happy coincidence. Where
Moschion assumes that Chrysis is doing a favor to him, we should understand that she is equally
doing a favor to Plangon, the girl with whom she has a strong friendship.
in 402/1), a child of a foreign woman and a citizen man was not a citizen. It is possible that a
father who enrolled an illegitimate child in a deme would suffer legal consequences.
212
The risk that Chrysis takes in keeping the baby is great, perhaps greater than she admits
to herself. When Moschion tells her that Demeas will get angry, she is convinced he will get over
it because of his affection for her. Dedoussi believes that she seriously underestimates the
precariousness of her social position: a bastard child has the potential to upset a household, and
Demeas could object to the fact that Chrysis has decided to keep the baby, a right that only the
father has.278 But let us note that Chrysis was also correct in her assessment of this risk: Demeas
did in fact get mad because she kept the baby, but, just as she predicted, he also got over it fairly
quickly. Although the consequences could have been dire, Chrysis was right in assuming a less
serious outcome. However, once Demeas discovers that Moschion is the father of the baby, he
believes Chrysis has seduced and corrupted his son, which puts her in new danger. Her level of
risk changes as Demeas’ interpretation of the situation changes. He throws her out of the house,
telling her that it is because she kept the child (374), but in a monologue explains that this is
merely the excuse he will give her (354-56); he is really more upset that she cheated on him and
corrupted his son (338-48). His unexpected behavior changes things for Chrysis, who anticipated
that he would forgive her quickly.
As Demeas dismisses Chrysis from the house, he indicates, and perhaps he falsely
believes, that the consequences for her are not great: he sends her away with the nursemaid
(γραῦς 373), all of her belongings (τὰ σαυτῆς πάντα 381), and some servants (θεραπαίνες
382). It is the language and process of a divorce: he sends her away from the house with all of
the things that belong to her, much as a husband can turn out a wife with her dowry.279 A citizen
278
Dedoussi 1988: 41.
Cohen 2006: 109-10 explains that Demeas and Chrysis likely had a contract in which they
agreed that she would retain her possessions and handmaids in the event of a separation. Such
contracts help hetairai retain their autonomy and avoid the appearance of dependency upon a
master.
279
213
wife, however, can return to her father’s house (or nearest living male relative), whereas Chrysis
has nowhere to go. She will not be able to support herself without turning to prostitution, for
which she is probably too old; selling things in the market like old widows do,280 which would
offer a meager living at best and is not an option unless she has marketable skills; or finding
another man to support her. But who would support another man’s child? Other examples in
comedy show us that a courtesan can use a baby to convince a man to support her, but only if
that man believes the baby is his own.281 Foolishly, Demeas thinks that the existence of the baby,
a boy, is the ultimate good for Chrysis: ἀλλὰ σὺ | ὑὸν πεπόησαι· πάντ’ ἔχεις (“But you have
had a son: you have everything,” 386-87). Perhaps he equates baby boys with long-term security
for the mother, and that might be true of a married citizen woman. Chrysis’ son may be able to
support her in her old age, something that is certainly a concern for any woman (or man) but
especially a hetaira. However, keeping the baby alive until adulthood will be difficult without
Demeas’ support. Demeas treats her as a young citizen woman whom he is divorcing, and who
has all of the opportunities of a citizen woman, including the financial support of her father and
the possibility of another marriage.
Chrysis, however, has no such resources, and she has few options upon leaving Demeas’
house. With no natal home to return to, she seeks refuge with her good friends next door, where
Nikeratos receives her. At first he agrees with Chrysis’ assessment of the situation, that Demeas’
anger is only temporary and things will go back to normal soon. His protection and support
ensures that his own wife and daughter risk nothing in offering Chrysis shelter. Meanwhile, the
repercussions for Chrysis are temporarily averted: she has food and shelter for now, and there is
280
Cf. Ar. Lys. 456-61, where the old women in the chorus are depicted as sellers of various
goods, and Ar. Thesm. 443-58, where a widow describes how she supports her family by selling
garlands.
281
Cf. Plaut. Cist. 133-34.
214
still hope that Demeas will get over his anger and welcome her back home shortly. But then
something happens: Nikeratos sees his daughter nursing the baby (535-36), and now understands
that the baby belongs to her, not Chrysis. Demeas, meanwhile, has learned the truth, that the
baby belongs to Moschion and Plangon and is therefore his grandson. Nikeratos realizes that his
daughter has had a child out of wedlock but does not know who the father is. His new attitude
presents a new danger, which is evident when he threatens to kill the baby, as Demeas reports:
Ἡράκλεις,
ἡλίκον κέκραγε. τοῦτ’ ἦν· πῦρ βοᾶι· τὸ παιδίον
φησὶν ἐμπρήσειν ἀπειλῶν. ὑιδοῦν ὀπτώμενον
ὄψομαι. πάλιν πέπληχε τὴν θύραν. στρόβιλος ἢ
σκηπτὸς ἅνθρωπός τις ἐστί.
(552-
56)
By Hercules, how loud he screams. I say this: [Nikeratos] is calling for fire! He says he
will take the baby and incinerate it! I will see my grandson roasting! He just banged on
the door again. The man is some sort of hurricane or thunderbolt!
In his wrath, Nikeratos threatens the baby and, as we will soon see, anyone who protects it.
Although we are not privy to her decision making process, it is apparent that Chrysis has decided
to continue her charade rather than come clean in light of the increased danger. She continues to
protect the child; if her affection would not allow her to let the baby be raised by a stranger, then
it comes as no surprise that her affection would lead her to protect the baby’s life. With the
increased stakes, the other women have been forced to become more involved. Nikeratos reports
on their collusion:
{ΝΙ} Δημέα, συνίσταται
ἐπ’ ἐμὲ καὶ πάνδεινα ποιεῖ πράγμαθ’ ἡ Χρυσίς. {ΔΗ} τί φήις;
{ΝΙ} τὴν γυναῖκά μου πέπεικε μηθὲν ὁμολογεῖν ὅλως
μηδὲ τὴν κόρην, ἔχει δὲ πρὸς βίαν τὸ παιδίον
οὐ προήσεσθαί τε φησίν· ὥστε μὴ θαύμαζ’, ἐὰν
αὐτόχειρ αὐτῆς γένωμαι.
(556-61)
{NI} Demeas, Chrysis is conspiring against me and thoroughly screwing everything up!
{DE} What are you saying?
215
{NI} She has persuaded my wife and daughter to admit nothing, and she holds the baby
by force and says she will not release him. Don’t be surprised if I become her
murderer.282
While Nikeratos had offered Chrysis protection against the anger of Demeas, Chrysis’ friends
must now protect her against Nikeratos. Nonetheless, it is dangerous to pin her long-term hopes
on them; at best she can hope for a brief interlude of shelter before she either gets thrown out of
both houses, or the issue gets resolved. At this point, they are her best and only option for
protection. As she helped them, she now relies on them for help.
Since Nikeratos now views the three women as conspirators, his wife and daughter in
danger, too. While Nikeratos threatens to kill Chrysis, surely his wife and daughter do not risk
the same extreme fate. By colluding with Chrysis, the citizen wife risks at most the ire of her
husband, and possibly his hand, but she will survive this. It might make her life more difficult in
the short term, but in the long term things will probably return to normal. Her social status offers
her the most secure position. As a citizen wife, her husband depends on her for companionship
and practical support in running the household. He is also under cultural pressure to make his
marriage work: it is a contract that his family entered with another family, and he was given a
dowry, which he must return in the event of a divorce. He is unlikely to divorce his wife over
something so trivial as her support for her friend and daughter. It is because of this security that
the established citizen wife is able to stand up to her husband every once in a while in order to
help another woman. Her decision is easy, or at least obvious: by keeping the secret, she can
protect the reputation of her daughter and the safety of her friend Chrysis, not to mention the
baby, and be relatively sure that she will not suffer for these actions too much in the long term.
282
Gomme and Sandbach 1973: ad 561 explains that, while αὐτόχειρ might literally have a
more benign meaning, indicating any sort of corporal punishment including a slap, the word is
connected with the most extreme varieties: suicide and murder.
216
She, like Myrrhina of the Hecyra, is able to throw herself fully into the protection of her
daughter. She and her husband will experience some marital discord, which is never fun, but
after many years of marriage, they will probably work through it.
Nikeratos’ daughter is in an awkward position: Nikeratos has made Chrysis and the baby
the objects of his rage – he has no plans to hurt his daughter – so by protecting Chrysis, Plangon
puts herself in the path of his destruction. This course of action, however, is necessary to protect
the baby. Like Philumena of the Hecyra, she had a strong motivation to conceal the pregnancy. If
the secret becomes known outside of the family, she will be subject to social reproach and
effectively be unable to marry anyone but the father of her child. The rape limits Nikeratos
socially, because he no longer gets to choose into which family his daughter will marry. When he
discovers the nothos, he is angry because that power has been taken from him, but perhaps with
the destruction of the child, he can prevent the secret from becoming known outside the family.
Therefore there is no longer any reason for Plangon to deny the baby is hers, but plenty of reason
to believe that the baby is in danger. If maternal affection made her give the baby to Chrysis
rather than exposing it, now she must collude with Chrysis to protect it. And since her father
knows the secret, there is a chance that she will be able to marry the father and reclaim the baby.
She protects Chrysis not only because Chrysis is a friend, and not only to repay the favor, but
also because Chrysis protects her most precious possession. For Plangon, the worst has already
happened. Her father is very angry to learn that she has a child; her collusion with Chrysis at this
point inspires only a slight annoyance by comparison. Plangon risks little in protecting Chrysis at
this point, but she stands to gain a great deal if her child is protected from harm.
Chrysis, then, risks by far the most, and stands to gain little. Her once secure position
with Demeas has now been seriously threatened. Her brief period of refuge with her friends ends
217
as soon as Nikeratos discovers that the baby belongs to Plangon. Chrysis has enjoyed the
friendship of the women next door, but the daily interaction with these women is contingent
upon the success of her relationship with Demeas. Perhaps the knowledge that this friendship
might not last forever gives her all the more reason to appreciate it in the present. She is moved
to protect the baby, and Plangon’s secret, because it is the right thing to do for the child, and she
is emotionally incapable of sitting on the sidelines. She chooses to help her friends and accepts
their help in return. Their mutual reliance can only strengthen the bonds of friendship and ensure
that this resource is available to Chrysis for years to come, if she is allowed to remain in
Demeas’ house. By happy coincidence, Demeas has already been made aware of the true identity
of the baby, and when Nikeratos threatens Chrysis, Demeas offers them refuge again in his own
house. After this, however, Chrysis is no more than an afterthought for Moschion and Demeas:
she briefly created a threat to the oikos, but now that the threat is over, she resumes her role as
companion and housekeeper as if nothing ever happened. She remains “of secondary
importance,” and while Demeas and Moschion regret their behavior towards each other, no one
regrets his behavior towards Chrysis. 283 In fact, no one pays attention to her once the
misunderstanding is resolved.
The three women have at least one common goal, to protect the baby, but beyond that,
each brings private motivations to the scheme. Only by working together can each achieve the
outcome that they desire. Moschion’s opening monologue indicates that their friendship is
important to the story, and as we watch the play unfold, we see how they keep falling back on
this friendship: when one is in danger, the other two lend a hand. When all are in danger, this
only binds them together more fiercely, giving them strength in numbers. By cooperating with
283
Zagagi 1994: 136-37.
218
each other, Chrysis earns the satisfaction of having saved the child, Plangon wins the status of
respectable citizen wife with a male offspring, and her own mother can rest assured that she has
protected her daughter’s reputation. Although it is true that by working together, each woman
has achieved an immediate goal, we should not see their motives as purely short-term: they are
strengthening a friendship which has served them well in the past and which they will continue
to rely upon well into the future.
F. Conclusion
The plays discussed in this chapter cover women of a variety of classes and social status:
citizen mothers, young brides, courtesans, concubines, and slaves. They demonstrate that
virtuous behavior in women spans the social classes and can be found even in those who have
little to gain from it. Despite Aristotle’s claim that women’s capacity for judgment lacks
authority (ἄκυρον, Politics 1260a13), these playwrights have chosen to show women who are
capable of choosing ethical conduct while the men are not, and desirous of acting honorably even
when it carries no benefit or is potentially harmful. The sisters of the Stichus rely on each other’s
support to do the right thing, and the neighbors of Casina know that they must protect the virgin
girl, although they disagree on the reasons. The courtesans and concubine of Hecyra,
Epitrepontes, and Samia prove to be among the most sympathetic and upstanding characters in
their plays. I have shown that Menander, Plautus, and Terence were successful partly because
they created innovative characters, including honorable prostitutes and self-sacrificing mothersin-law. Gutzwiller and Michelini argue that Hellenistic poets proved their talent by taking the
inherited artistic forms and presenting them in a way that directly opposes the inherited value
systems: “What was forbidden, peripheral, or shocking in Euripides was now the rule, expected
as a challenge to an archaic code that seemed archaic and thus was preservable only by
219
misuse.”284 Menander and the Roman poets, who so greatly admired Hellenistic literature,
present moral and self-sacrificing women to an audience well aware of the Aristotelian school of
thought that denies women this capability. In a mark of their genius, Menander and Terence in
particular create women who operate according to Aristotle’s system of ethics, even though
Aristotle claims that women stand outside this system.
284
Gutzwiller and Michelini 1991: 73.
220
Chapter 6. Concluding Remarks
Since my research investigates relationships between women and the complex
motivations for their interactions, I use evidence only from plays of which a substantial amount
of material remains. It is unfortunate that Aristophanes is the only Old Comedian whose work
survives in detail, and rather more unfortunate that no sizeable work of Middle Comedy remains.
Because of this, the influence of these poets on the characterization of women in New Comedy is
difficult to surmise. Moreover, although we have far more of Menander than we did a hundred
years ago, most of the Greek New Comedy with which Plautus and Terence were familiar is lost
to us. Unlike Middle Comedy, the Roman poets tell us directly that they draw heavily on many
of these now lost plays. While I am unable to evaluate the works of Diphilus and Apollodorus
directly, I hope to have indicated that they probably played a meaningful role in the development
of dramatic portrayals of women and their relationships. We are fortunate to have much more of
Menander, and while the Samia and Epitrepontes allow us to investigate cross-class
relationships, Menander would have more prominence in Chapter 4 had the Synaristosai and Dis
Exapaton survived. I have provided a detailed look at women’s interpersonal relationships in the
evidence that survives, and can only acknowledge the debt that we owe to the lost authors and
works.
The chapters of this dissertation address women of comedy thematically, rather than by
author, which is possible only because the authors’ representations of relationships between
women share so many features. I have demonstrated this empirically in Chapter 2, by combining
many pieces of evidence from a variety of plays to show that the ways in which women interact
and the people with whom they interact are consistent across Old and New, Greek and Roman
Comedy. The thematic investigations of the later chapters reinforce this idea: all four comic
221
playwrights depict women from a variety of social positions making decisions based on bonds of
solidarity with other women. Because of the political nature of the genre, Old Comedy focuses
on large communities of citizen women, but women of all ages and classes are present in minor
roles and equally involved in the collaborative efforts. In all four authors, we see women
cooperating across classes and taking personal risks on behalf of friends, neighbors, and family
members. The needs of individual plots lead to a variety of different kinds of relationships taking
center stage: we see solidarity by gender, as in Aristophanes; by class, as with courtesans in the
courtesan plays; because of blood ties or bonds of friendship, which apply equally to women of
citizen and non-citizen classes; and even across classes, whether because of friendship or mutual
benefit. Whatever the individual needs of a play, each is written against a common set of
expectations for the relationships between women. I hope that my study provides a clear and
thorough framework within which to read the women of comedy, and that it can be used for
future literary, anthropological, and social-historical studies of women in Ancient Greece and
Rome.
By playing the role of resisting reader and looking at women’s relationships not with men
but with each other, I have demonstrated that the women of Old and New Comedy have mostly
honorable motivations. They are rarely selfish, and in fact frequently make personal sacrifices in
order to help other women. Despite negative characterizations in Aristophanes, those women
prove not to be sex-crazed lushes, but individuals determined to better the lives of themselves
and their fellow females. Likewise, the women of New Comedy, even the courtesans, are neither
wicked nor mercenary, but are motivated by positive desires to help friends and family members.
In Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae, a woman complains that Euripides puts wicked women
(πονηρά, 546) onstage, showing only Melanippes and Phaedras, never a Penelope (547). The
222
Kinsman retorts that this is because no Penelopes exist in their day (550). Despite this jab at the
expense of women, Aristophanes and the New Comic poets have created no Melanippes or
Phaedras. Neither have they created Penelopes, but women whose virtuous behavior is defined
by their actions towards many characters, both male and female, not just their husbands and
fathers.
223
Works Cited
Acidalius, V. 1607. In Comoedias Plauti, Quae Exstant, Divinationes et Interpretationes.
Frankfurt: Samuel Hempelius.
Anderson, W.S. 1984. “Love Plots in Menander and his Roman Adaptors.” Ramus 13:124-34.
---1972. “The Ending of the Samia and other Menandrian Comedies.” In Studi Classici in Onore
di Quintino Cataudella. Vol. 2, 155-79. Catania: Università di Catania.
Arnott, W.G. 2004a. “Menander’s Epitrepontes in the Light of the New Papyri.” In Law,
Rhetoric and Comedy in Classical Athens: Essays in Honour of Douglas M. MacDowell,
edited by D.L. Cairns and R.A. Knox, 269-92. Swansea: Classical Press of Wales.
Arnott, W.G. 2004b. “A New Mosaic of Menander’s Synaristosai.” In Studien zu Plautus’
Cistellaria, edited by R. Hartkamp and F. Hurka, 399-405. Tübingen: Gunter Narr.
---2003. “Diphilus’ Κληρούµενοι and Plautus’ Casina.” In Lecturae Plautinae Sarsinates VI:
Casina, edited by R. Raffaelli and A. Tontini, 23-44. Urbino: Quattro Venti.
---1979. Menander. Vol. 1. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
--- 1972. “Targets, Techniques, and Tradition in Plautus’ Stichus.” BICS 19:54-79.
--- 1968. “Menander, Qui Vitae Ostendit Vitam...” G&R 15:1-17.
Auhagen, U. 2004. “Das Hetärenfrühstück (Cist. I 1) - Griechisches und Römisches bei Plautus.”
In Studien zu Plautus’ Cistellaria, edited by R. Hartkamp and F. Hurka, 187-210. Tübingen:
Gunter Narr.
Austin, C., and S.D. Olson, eds. 2004. Aristophanes: Thesmophoriazusae. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Bain, D.M. 1984. “Female Speech in Menander.” Antichthon 18:24-42.
Barigazzi, A. 1965. La Formazione Spirituale di Menandro. Turin: Bottega d’Erasmo.
224
Barns, J.W.B., and H. Zilliacus. 1967. The Antinoopolis Papyri: Part III. Vol. 47. London: Egypt
Exploration Society.
Bertini, F. 1968. Plauti Asinaria. Genova: Università di Genova.
Blanchard, A. 1983. Essai sur la Composition des Comédies de Ménandre. Paris: Les Belles
Lettres.
Blok, J. 2001. “Virtual Voices: Toward a Choreography of Women’s Speech in Classical
Athens.” In Making Silence Speak: Women’s Voices in Greek Literature and Society, edited
by A. Lardinois and L. McClure, 95-116. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Borkowski, A., and P. du Plessis. 2005. Textbook on Roman Law. 3rd edn. New York: Oxford
University Press.
Bowie, A.M. 1993. Aristophanes: Myth, Ritual and Comedy. New York: Cambridge University
Press.
Braund, S.M. 2005. “Marriage, Adultery, and Divorce in Roman Comic Drama.” In Satiric
Advice on Women and Marriage: From Plautus to Chaucer, edited by W.S. Smith, 39-70.
Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.
Brown, P.G.M. 2005. “The Legal and Social Framework of Plautus’ Cistellaria.” In Papers of
the Langford Latin Seminar: Greek and Roman Poetry, Greek and Roman Historiography.
Vol. 12, edited by F. Cairns, 53-70. Cambridge: Francis Cairns.
---1990. “Plots and Prostitutes in Greek New Comedy.” In Papers of the Leeds International
Latin Seminar: Roman Poetry and Drama; Greek Epic, Comedy, Rhetoric. Vol. 6, edited by
F. Cairns and M. Heath, 241-66. Leeds: Francis Cairns Ltd.
Burkert, W. 1985. Greek Religion. Translated by J. Raffan. Cambridge: Harvard University
Press.
225
Bywater, I., ed. 1890. Aristotelis Ethica Nicomachea. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Capps, E. 1981. Four Plays of Menander. The Hero, Epitrepontes, Periciromene and Samia.
New Rochelle, New York: Caratzas Brothers.
Carney, T.F. 1963. P. Terenti Afri Hecyra. Rhodesia: Classical Association of Rhodesia and
Nyasaland.
Çelik, Ö. 2009. “Yukari Harbiye mozaik kurtarma kazisi (Perikeiromene, Philadelphoi,
Synaristosai, Theophorosmene)." In 17 Müze Çalişmalari ve Kurtarma Kazilari Sempozyumu
(28 Nisan - 1 Mayis 2008, Side), 41-52. Ankara: Kültür ve Turizm Bakanliği Dösimm
Basimevi.
Cohen, D. 1991. Law, Sexuality, and Society: The Enforcement of Morals in Classical Athens.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Cohen, E.E. 2006. “Free and Unfree Sexual Work: An Economic Analysis of Athenian
Prostitution.” In Prostitutes and Courtesans in the Ancient World, edited by C.A. Faraone
and L.K. McClure, 95-124. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Corbier, M. 1991. “Divorce and Adoption as Roman Familial Strategies (Le Divorce et
l’adoption ‘en plus’).” In Marriage, Divorce, and Children in Ancient Rome, edited by B.
Rawson, 47-78. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
della Corte, F. 1951. “La Commedia dell’ Asinaio.” RFIC 79:289-306.
Crisafulli, T. 1998. “Representations of the Feminine: The Prostitute in Roman Comedy.” In
Ancient History in a Modern University. Vol. 1, edited by T.W. Hillard, et al, 222-229.
Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans.
De Luca, K.M. 2005. Aristophanes’ Male and Female Revolutions: A Reading of Aristophanes’
Knights and Assemblywomen. New York: Lexington Books.
226
Deacy, S., and K.F. Pierce, eds. 1997. Rape in Antiquity. London: Duckworth.
Dedoussi, C. 1988. “The Future of Plangon’s Child in Menander’s Samia.” LCM 13.3:39-42.
Deubner, L. 1969. Attische Feste. New York: Georg Olms.
Dillon, M. 2002. Girls and Women in Classical Greek Religion. New York: Routledge.
Dover, K.J. 1989. Greek Homosexuality. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
---1968. “Greek Comedy.” In Fifty Years (and Twelve) of Classical Scholarship, edited by M.
Platnauer, 123-58. New York: Barnes and Noble.
Duckworth, G.E. 1994. The Nature of Roman Comedy: A Study in Popular Entertainment. 2nd
edn. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.
Dutsch, D.M. 2008. Feminine Discourse in Roman Comedy: On Echoes and Voices. New York:
Oxford University Press.
--- 2005. “Roman Pharmacology: Plautus’ Blanda Venena.” G&R 52:205-20.
Dziatzko, C. 1884. P. Terenti Afri Comoediae. Leipzig: Bernhard Tavchnitz.
Edmonds, J.M., ed. 1957. The Fragments of Attic Comedy after Meinecke, Bergk, and Kock. Vol.
III B. Leiden: Brill.
Fantham, E. 2004. “Women of the Demi-monde and Sisterly Solidarity in the Cistellaria.” In
Studien zu Plautus’ Cistellaria, edited by R. Hartkamp and F. Hurka, 221-38. Tübingen:
Gunter Narr.
---2002. “DOMINA-tricks, or How to Construct a Good Whore from a Bad One.” In
Dramatische Wäldchen: Festschrift für Eckard Lefèvre zum 65 Geburtstag, edited by E.
Stärk and G. Vogt-Spira, 287-99. Hildescheim: Ohms.
--- 1975. “Sex, Status, and Survival in Hellenistic Athens. A Study of Women in New Comedy.”
Phoenix 29:44-74.
227
Faraone, C.A. 2006. “Priestess and Courtesan: The Ambivalence of Female Leadership in
Aristophanes’ Lysistrata.” In Prostitutes and Courtesans in the Ancient World, edited by
C.A. Faraone and L.K. McClure, 207-23. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Faraone, C.A., and L.K. McClure, eds. 2006. Prostitutes and Courtesans in the Ancient World.
Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Fetterley, J. 1978. The Resisting Reader: A Feminist Approach to American Fiction.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Finnegan, R. 1995. Women in Aristophanes. Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert.
Fleckeisen, A., ed. 1898. P. Terenti Afri Comoediae. Leipzig: Teubner.
Foley, H.P. 2001. Female Acts in Greek Tragedy. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
---1988. “Women in Greece.” In Civilization of the Ancient Mediterranean: Greece and Rome,
edited by M. Grant and R. Kitzinger, 1301-17. New York: Scribner.
---1981. “The Conception of Women in Athenian Drama.” In Reflections of Women in Antiquity,
edited by H.P. Foley, 127-68. New York: Gordon and Breach Science Publishers.
Foley, H.P. 1982. “The ‘Female Intruder’ Reconsidered: Women in Aristophanes’ Lysistrata and
Ecclesiazusae.” CP 57:1-21.
Foucault, M. 1990. The Use of Pleasure: The History of Sexuality. Vol. 2. Translated by R.
Hurley. New York: Vintage Books.
Fraenkel, E. 2007. Plautine Elements in Plautus. Translated by T. Drevikovsky and F. Muecke.
New York: Oxford University Press.
---1960. Elementi Plautini in Plauto. Firenze: La Nuova Italia.
French, V. 1986. “Midwives and Maternity Care in the Roman World.” Helios 13:69-84.
228
Furley, W.D. 2009. Menander Epitrepontes. London: Institute of Classical Studies, School of
Advanced Studies, University of London.
Gaiser, K. 1970. “Die plautinischen Bacchides und Menanders Dis Exapaton.” Philologus
114:51-87.
--- 1967. “Menander und der Peripatos.” Antike und Abendland 13:8-40.
Gardner, J.F. 1989. “Aristophanes and Male Anxiety, the Defense of the Oikos.” G&R 36:51-62.
Gestri, L. 1940. “Studi Plautini I: Il Dialogo di Cleareta ed Argyrippo in Asin. 1, 3 (153-248).”
SIFC 17:181-214.
Gilhuly, K. 2006. “The Phallic Lesbian: Philosophy, Comedy, and Social Inversion in Lucian’s
Dialogues of the Courtesans.” In Prostitutes and Courtesans in the Ancient World, edited by
C.A. Faraone and L.K. McClure, 274-91. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Gilula, D. 2004. “The Cistellaria Courtesans: Two Ways to Make a Living.” In Studien zu
Plautus’ Cistellaria, edited by R. Hartkamp and F. Hurka, 239-46. Tübingen: Gunter Narr.
--- 1980. “The Concept of the Bona Meretrix: A Study of Terence’s Courtesans.” RFIC 108:14265.
--- 1979. “Terence’s Hecyra: A Delicate Balance of Suspense and Dramatic Irony.” SCI 5:13757.
Glazebrook, A., and M.M. Henry, eds. 2011. Greek Prostitutes in the Ancient Mediterranean,
800 BCE - 200 CE. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Goldberg, S.M. 1986. Understanding Terence. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Goldhill, S. 1994. “The Naive and Knowing Eye: Ecphrasis and the Culture of Viewing in the
Hellenistic World.” In Art and Text in Ancient Greek Culture, edited by S. Goldhill and R.
Osborne, 197-223. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
229
Gomme, A.W., and F.H. Sandbach, eds. 1973. Menander: A Commentary. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Griffith, M. 2001. “Antigone and Her Sister(s): Embodying Women in Greek Tragedy.” In
Making Silence Speak: Women’s Voices in Greek Literature and Society, edited by A.
Lardinois and L. McClure, 117-36. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Gruen, S.W. 1991. “The Role of the Courtesan in Menander and Terence.” Ph.D. diss.,
University of California Berkeley.
Gutzwiller, K.J. 2011. “New Menander Mosaics and the Papyri.” Paper read at the San Antonio,
TX, 6-9 January 20111, American Philological Association Annual Meeting.
Gutzwiller, K.J., and A.N. Michelini. 1991. “Women and Other Strangers: Feminist Perspectives
in Classical Literature.” In (En)Gendering Knowledge: Feminists in Academe, edited by J.E.
Hartman and E. Messer-Davidow, 66-84. Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press.
Hall, F.W., and W.M. Geldart, eds. 1906. Aristophanis Comoediae. Vol. 2. Oxford: Clarendon
Press.
Halperin, D.M. 1990a. “The Democratic Body: Prostitution and Citizenship in Classical Athens.”
In One Hundred Years of Homosexuality and Other Essays on Greek Love, edited by D.M.
Halperin, 88-112. New York: Routledge.
---1990b. “Why Is Diotima a Woman? Platonic Erōs and the Figuration of Gender.” In Before
Sexuality: The Construction of Erotic Experience in the Ancient Greek World, edited by
D.M. Halperin, J.J. Winkler and F.I. Zeitlin, 257-308. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Halperin, D.M., J.J. Winkler, and F.I. Zeitlin, eds. 1990. Before Sexuality: The Construction of
Erotic Experience in the Ancient Greek World. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
230
Handley, E.W., and U. Wartenberg. 1997. The Oxyrhynchus Papyri. Vol. 64. London: Egypt
Exploration Society.
Handley, E.W. 1970. “The Conventions of the Comic Stage and their Exploitation by
Menander.” In Ménandre: Sept Exposés Suivis de Discussions. Vol. 16, edited by E.G.
Turner, 1-26. Geneva: Fondation Hardt.
---1968. Menander and Plautus: A Study in Comparison: An Inaugural Lecture Delivered at
University College, London, 5 February 1968. London: H.K. Lewis.
Harrison, A.R.W. 1998. The Law of Athens, Volume I: The Family and Property. 2nd edn.
Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.
Hartkamp, R.F. 2004. “Mutter und Kupplerin? - Zur Darstellung, Entwicklung und Funktion der
plautinischen lenae in Cistellaria und Asinaria.” In Studien zu Plautus’ Cistellaria, edited by
R. Hartkamp and F. Hurka, 247-66. Tübingen: Gunter Narr.
Hartkamp, R.F., and F. Hurka, eds. 2004. Studien zu Plautus’ Cistellaria. Tübingen: Gunter
Narr.
Havet, L. 1905. “Études sur Plaute, Asinaria.” RPhil 29:94-103.
Henderson, J. 2002. Theophrastus Characters, Herodas Mimes, Sophron and Other Mime
Fragments. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
---2000. Aristophanes III: Birds, Lysistrata, Women at the Thesmophoria. Cambridge: Harvard
University Press.
---1996. Three Plays by Aristophanes: Staging Women. New York: Routledge.
---1991. The Maculate Muse: Obscene Language in Attic Comedy. New York: Oxford University
Press.
---1987a. Aristophanes Lysistrata. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
231
--- 1987b. “Older Women in Attic Old Comedy.” TAPA 117:105-29.
--- 1980. “Lysistrate: The Play and its Themes.” YCS 26:153-218.
Henry, M.M. 2011. “The Traffic in Women: From Homer to Hipponax, from War to
Commerce.” In Greek Prostitution in the Ancient Mediterranean, 800 BCE - 200 CE, edited
by A. Glazebrook and M.M. Henry, 14-33. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
---1985. Menander’s Courtesans and the Greek Comic Tradition. New York: Peter Lang.
Hofmann, H. 1975. “A New Interpretation of Certain Aspects in Menander’s Samia.” In
Proceedings of the XIV International Congress of Papyrologists, Oxford, 24-31 July 1974.
Vol. 61: 167-75. London: Egypt Exploration Society.
Hough, J.N. 1937. “The Structure of the Asinaria.” AJP 58:19-37.
Hunter, R.L. 1985. The New Comedy of Greece and Rome. New York: Cambridge University
Press.
Ireland, S. 1990. Terence: The Mother in Law. Warminster: Aris & Phillips Ltd.
Jachmann, G. 1931. Plautinisches und Attisches. Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung.
James, S.L. 1998. “From Boys to Men: Rape and Developing Masculinity in Terence’s Hecyra
and Eunuchus.” Helios 25:31-47.
Kapparis, K.K. 2011. “The Terminology of Prostitution in the Ancient Greek World.” In Greek
Prostitution in the Ancient Mediterranean, 800 BCE - 200 BC, edited by A. Glazebrook and
M.M. Henry, 222-55. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Karakasis, E. 2003. “Language and Plot in Plautus’ Bacchides.” RCCM 45:47-67.
Kassel, R., and C. Austin. 1998. Poetae Comici Graeci, Vol. VI 2 Menander (Testimonia et
Fragmenta). New York: Walter de Gruyter.
232
Katz, M.A. 1995. “Ideology and ‘the Status of Women’ in Ancient Greece.” In Women in
Antiquity: New Assessments, edited by R. Hawley and B. Levick, 21-43. New York:
Routledge.
Kauer, R., and W.M. Lindsay, eds. 1926. P. Terenti Afri Comoediae. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Knorr, O. 1995. “The Character of Bacchis in Terence’s Heautontimorumenos.” AJP 116:22135.
Koerte, A., and A. Thierfelder, eds. 1957. Menandri Quae Supersunt, Pars 2. Leipzig: Teubner.
Konstan, D. 1993. “Aristophanes’ Lysistrata: Women and the Body Politic.” In Tragedy,
Comedy, and the Polis: Papers from the Greek Drama Conference, Nottingham, 18-20 July
1990, edited by A.H. Sommerstein, et al, 431-44. Bari: Levante editori.
---1983. Roman Comedy. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.
--- 1978. “Plot and Theme in Plautus’ Asinaria.” CJ 73:215-21.
Krauss, A.N. 2008. “Panegyris Channels Penelope: Mêtis and Pietas in Plautus’s Stichus.”
Helios 35:29-47.
Krieter-Spiro, M. 1997. Sklaven, Köche, und Hetären: das Dienstpersonal bei Menander:
Stellung, Rolle, Komik, und Sprache. Stuttgart: Teubner.
Lacey, W.K. 1980. The Family in Classical Greece. New Zealand: University of Auckland.
Langen, P. 1886. Plautinische Studien. Vol. 5.1. Berlin: S. Calvary and Co.
Lape, S. 2004. Reproducing Athens: Menander’s Comedy, Democratic Culture, and the
Hellenistic City. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Lardinois, A., and L. McClure, eds. 2001. Making Silence Speak: Women’s Voices in Greek
Literature and Society. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Legrand, P.E. 1902. “Pour l’Histoire de la Comédie Nouvelle.” RÉG 15:357-79.
233
Leisner-Jensen, M. 2002. “Vis Comica: Consummated Rape in Greek and Roman New
Comedy.” C&M 53:173-96.
Lindsay, W.M., ed. 1903. T. Macci Plauti Comoedia. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Lowe, J.C.B. 1992. “Aspects of Plautus’ Originality in the Asinaria.” CQ n.s. 42:152-75.
MacCary, W.T., and M.M. Willcock, eds. 1976. Plautus, Casina. New York: Cambridge
University Press.
MacDowell, D.M. 1978. The Law in Classical Athens. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.
Martin, R.H. 1995. “A Not-so-minor Character in Terence’s Eunuchus.” CP 90:139-51.
Martina, A., ed. 1997. Menandri Epitrepontes.Vol. 2.2. Roma: Kepos.
Maurach, G. 1983. “Bacchides - Probleme.” WürzJbb 9:109-13.
McCarthy, K. 2000. Slaves, Masters, and the Art of Authority in Plautine Comedy. Princeton:
Princeton University Press.
McClure, L. 1999. Spoken Like a Woman: Speech and Gender in Athenian Drama. Princeton:
Princeton University Press.
McGinn, T.A. 2004. The Economy of Prostitution in the Roman World: A Study of Social History
and the Brothel. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.
---1998. Prostitution, Sexuality, and the Law in Ancient Rome. New York: Oxford University
Press.
Mras, K. 1916. “Die Personennamen in Lucians Hetärengesprächen.” Wiener Studien 38:308-42.
Müller, C.W. 1988. “Aristophanes Eccl. 549.” RhM 131:98.
Munari, F. 1947. “La Composizione dell’Asinaria.” SIFC n.s. 22:5-32.
Naudet, J., ed. 1830. M. Accii Plauti Comœdiæ. Vol. 1. Paris: N. E. Lemaire and A. Firminus
Didot.
234
Oeri, H.G. 1948. Der Typ der komischen Alten in der griechischen Komödie. Basel: Benno
Schwabe & Co.
Ogden, D. 1997. “Rape, Adultery, and Protection of Bloodlines in Classical Athens.” In Rape in
Antiquity, edited by S. Deacy and K.F. Pierce, 25-41. London: Duckworth.
O’Higgins, L. 2003. Women and Humor in Classical Greece. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Olson, K. 2006. “Matrona and Whore: Clothing and Definition in Roman Antiquity.” In
Prostitutes and Courtesans in the Ancient World, edited by C.A. Faraone and L.K. McClure,
186-204. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Omitowoju, R. 2002. Rape and the Politics of Consent in Classical Athens. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
---1997. “Regulating Rape: Soap Operas and Self-interest in the Athenian Courts.” In Rape in
Antiquity, edited by S. Deacy and K.F. Pierce, 1-24. London: Duckworth.
Padel, R. 1983. “Women: Model for Possession by Greek Daemons.” In Images of Women in
Antiquity, edited by A. Cameron and A. Kuhrt, 3-19. Detroit: Wayne State University Press.
Page, D.L. 1970. Select Papyri in Four Volumes: Vol. 3, Literary Papyri (Poetry). Cambridge:
Harvard University Press.
Pepe, G.M. 1972. “The Last Scene of Terence’s Eunuchus.” CW 65:141-45.
Petrone, G. 1977. Morale e Antimorale nelle Commedie di Plauto: Ricerche sullo Stichus.
Palermo: Palumbo.
Pierce, K.F. 1997. “The Portrayal of Rape in New Comedy.” In Rape in Antiquity, edited by S.
Deacy and K.F. Pierce, 163-84. London: Duckworth.
235
Poster, C. 1995. “Stichus.” In Plautus: The Comedies. Vol. 4, edited by D.R. Slavitt and P.
Bovie, 313-66. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.
Prehn, B. 1916. “Quaestiones Plautinae.” Ph.D. diss., Breslau.
Questa, C., and M. Scàndola. 1988. Tito Maccio Plauto: Casina. Milan: Biblioteca Universale
Rizzoli.
Rabe, H. 1906. Scholia in Lucianum. Teubner: Leipzig.
Rabinowitz, N.S., and L. Auanger. 2002. Among Women: From the Homosocial to the
Homoerotic in the Ancient World. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Rambelli, G. 1956. “Studi Plautini I: Asinaria.” Dioniso 19:45-81.
Richlin, A. 1992. “Reading Ovid’s Rapes.” In Pornography and Representation in Greece and
Rome, edited by A. Richlin, 158-79. New York: Oxford University Press.
Rosivach, V.J. 1986. “The Stage Settings of Plautus’ Bacchides, Cistellaria and Epidicus.”
Hermes 114:429-42.
Rosivach, V.J. 1998. When a Young Man Falls in Love: The Sexual Exploitation of Women in
New Comedy. New York: Routledge.
Sandbach, F.H. 1986. “Two Notes on Menander (Epitrepontes and Samia).” LCM 11.9:156-60.
---1972. Menandri Reliquiae Selectae. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Scafuro, A.C. 1997. The Forensic Stage: Settling Disputes in Graeco-Roman New Comedy.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Schultz, C.E. 1999. “Women in Roman Republican Religion.” Ph.D. diss., Bryn Mawr.
Segal, E. 1987. Roman Laughter: The Comedy of Plautus. 2nd edn. New York: Oxford University
Press.
Shaw, M. 1975. “The Female Intruder: Women in Fifth-Century Drama.” CP 70:255-66.
236
Shelton, J. 1998. As the Romans Did. New York: Oxford University Press.
Skinner, M.B. 2001. “Ladies’ Day at the Art Institute: Theocritus, Herodas, and the Gendered
Gaze.” In Making Silence Speak: Women’s Voices in Greek Literature and Society, edited by
A. Lardinois and L. McClure, 201-22. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Slater, N.W. 2004. “Men are from Lemnos, Women are from Sicyon: Space and Gender in the
Cistellaria.” In Studien zu Plautus’ Cistellaria, edited by R. Hartkamp and F. Hurka, 267-79.
Tübingen: Gunter Narr.
---2000. Plautus in Performance: The Theater of the Mind. 2nd edn. Amsterdam: Harwood
Academic Publishers.
Smith, L.P. 1994. “Audience Response to Rape: Chaerea in Terence’s Eunuchus.” Helios 21:2138.
Sommerstein, A.H. 1998a. Aristophanes: Ecclesiazusae. Warminster: Aris & Philips Ltd.
---1998b. “Rape and Young Manhood in Athenian comedy.” In Thinking Men: Masculinity and
its Self-Representation in the Classical Tradition, edited by L. Foxhall and J. Salmon, 10014. New York: Routledge.
Stehle, E. 2002. “The Body and its Representation in Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazousai: Where
Does the Costume End?” AJP 123:369-406.
---1997. Performance and Gender in Ancient Greece: Nondramatic Poetry in its Setting.
Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Stella, S. 1936. P. Terenzio Afro Hecyra. Milan: Carlo Signorelli.
Taaffe, L.K. 1993. Aristophanes and Women. New York: Routledge.
--- 1991. “The Illusion of Gender Disguise in Aristophanes’ Ecclesiazusae.” Helios 18:91-112.
237
Tannen, D. 1990. You Just Don’t Understand! Men and Women in Conversation. New York:
Morrow.
Tierney, M. 1936. “Aristotle and Menander.” Proc. R. Irish Academy 43:241-54.
Traill, A. 2008. Women and the Comic Plot in Menander. New York: Cambridge University
Press.
Treggiari, S. 1991. “Divorce Roman Style: How Easy and how Frequent was it?” In Marriage,
Divorce, and Children in Ancient Rome, edited by B. Rawson, 31-46. Oxford: Clarendon
Press.
Tzanetou, A. 2002. “Something to Do with Demeter: Ritual and Performance in Aristophanes’
Women at the Thesmophoria.” AJP 123:329-67.
Vaio, J. 1973. “The Manipulation of Theme and Action in Aristophanes’ Lysistrata.” GRBS
14:369-80.
Van Steen, G. 2002. “Trying (On) Gender: Modern Greek Productions of Aristophanes’
Thesmophoriazusae.” AJP 123:407-27.
Wagenvoort, H. 1932. “De Sticho Plautina.” Mnemosyne n.s. 59:309-12.
Webster, T.B.L. 1960. Studies in Menander. Manchester: Manchester University Press.
Wessner, P. 1902. Aeli Donati Commentum Terenti. Vol. 2. Leipzig: Teubner.
West, S. 1991. “Notes on the Samia.” ZPE 88:11-23.
Winkler, J.J. 1990. The Constraints of Desire: The Anthropology of Sex and Gender in Ancient
Greece. New York: Routledge.
Zagagi, N. 1994. The Comedy of Menander: Convention, Variation & Originality. London:
Duckworth.
238
Zeitlin, A. 2005. “Plutarch’s Moralia 712C, Menander’s Love Plots, and Terence’s Eunuchus.”
In Defining Genre and Gender in Latin Literature: Essays Presented to William S. Anderson
on his Seventy-Fifth Birthday, edited by W.W. Batstone and G. Tissol, 47-59. New York:
Lang.
---1998. “Terence’s Dark Comedy.” Ph.D. diss., University of California Berkeley.
Zeitlin, F.I. 1996. “Travesties of Gender and Genre in Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazousae.” In
Playing the Other: Gender and Society in Classical Greek Literature, edited by F.I. Zeitlin,
375-416. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Zeune, J.A., ed. 1820. P. Terentii Comoediae Sex. Vol. 2.1. London: J.F. Dove.
239