reading medieval Welsh erotic poetry: game & seduction

Medieval Welsh erotic poetry becomes much more meaningful from the perspective of comparative literature. Consider the first stanza of a medieval Welsh poem that stages a dialogue between a boy and a girl. The boy says to the girl:

Dexterous girl with slender waist,
grand of manner with fine eyebrows,
I request your leave in secret
for Jesus’s sake to make love to you.
May I, pleasant is my greeting,
have leave to lie with you girl? [1]

That’s far from the typical masculine diffidence in medieval courtly love poetry. The medieval Welsh poem is an amazing historical antecedent to the single-stage game that modern applied game theorists call the apocalypse opener. That game has a simple structure. A man approaches an unknown woman in a bar or nightclub and asks her quickly and serially three questions:

  1. Hey, how’s it going.?
  2. What are you doing later?
  3. Do you want to come home with me?

Practitioners describe the key to this game as shock and awe. Some women, stimulated by the man’s boldness, will respond positively. Others will tell him to go away. Our climate of hostility to men’s sexuality enhances the shock and awe of the apocalypse opener and thus increases its effectiveness.

Apocalypse

The medieval Welsh poem develops the apocalypse opener with literary sophistication. The girl responds enthusiastically to the opener. She instructs the boy:

Lift my dress, seek openly,
as if from under my navel,
and put your knee between my knees —
if you bring one put them both.

The boy, however, then loses the stiffness of his desire.[2] The result is bitterness on both sides. The girl says to him:

So take your thin little cock
and seek companionship in a bed of fleas.

The boy responds:

And God’s curse on you girl,
you ill-tempered wild-arsed bitch.

In the medieval Welsh poem, the apocalypse opener worked. The implement for the subsequent act failed. Since medieval times, a lucrative market of pharmaceuticals has developed to address this sort of problem.

A go-to technique in modern, text-based seduction is the ascii penis. That too has a forefather in medieval Welsh erotic poetry. In medieval life and literature, go-betweens, who were usually old women, conveyed proposals of love. The transgressive medieval Welsh poet Dafydd ap Gwilym instead figured his genitals as a go-between:

My two balls, go on my errand
concerning my girl, may she be nearer here.
Be you fierce,
my bald round love messengers.
Go, round black diligent prick
throttled by my two balls.

Demand a feast for your bearer,
pale bondsmen of the trousers. [3]

From this literary figure to the ascii penis is simply a matter of advancing media technology.

Building upon the lessons of Ovid, the master teacher of love, modern seduction literature instructs men in the importance of confidence and boldness. So too did medieval Welsh erotic poetry. Here’s typical advice of an old-woman go-between in medieval Welsh erotic poetry:

Woo the gentle girl lovingly;
if you woo long you won’t win her in the end.
Better the thrust of knee and elbows,
by Mary, than long buying of mead. [4]

Interpreted literally, the old woman advises the man to rape the woman. But raping a woman has always been regarded as a serious crime.[5] Moreover, most men, like most primates generally, don’t rape women. Medieval Welsh erotic poetry that instructs men not to attempt to beg or buy love from women parallels warnings against beta behavior in modern seduction literature. The thrust of knee and elbow figures the dominance and entitlement of the alpha male. Medieval Welsh erotic poetry that encourages men to be sexually assertive suggests that many medieval Welsh men, like many men today, lacked sexual confidence.

Medieval Welsh erotic poetry, like literature generally, tends to be read gynocentrically. That leads to literary criticism that’s not much more than intoning misogyny blah blah blah.[6] Modern seduction literature written for men provides in comparative perspective much better understanding of medieval Welsh erotic poetry.

*  *  *  *  *

Read more:

Notes:

[1] Ymddiddan Rhwng Mab a Merch (A Conversation Between a Boy and a Girl), from Welsh trans. Johnston (1991) p. 79. The subsequent three quotes are from id. In medieval Welsh poetry, slender eyebrows are a highly attractive feminine feature to men.

[2] Some sex field reports suggest that women interested in sex with men are more fulfilled by being warmly receptive rather than crudely demanding. Men’s sexual response is not merely a mechanical reaction to an opportunity for sex. Men’s sexual functioning often depends on complex workings of men’s minds and emotions. In recent decades, the popular pharmaceutical category “erectile dysfunction drugs” has further contributed to misunderstanding, if not outright demeaning of men’s sexuality.

[3] Cywydd i Anfon y Gal a’r Ceilliau’n Llatai (The Poet Sends his Genitals as a Love Messenger), attributed to Dafydd ap Gwilym, from Welsh trans. id. p. 35.

[4] Cyngor Hen Wraig (An Old Woman’s Advice), probably composed in 15th century, from Welsh trans. id. p. 47. The last three verses above also occur verbatim in Ding Moel’s Cyngor i Gyfaill (Advice to a Friend), trans. id. pp. 51 (second verse), 53 (concluding couplet).

[5] Syr Dafydd Llwyd Ysgolhaig (Sir David Llwyd the Scholar), an amateur poet of the mid-16th century, explicitly described a cleric rejecting rape:

I confessed jokingly to her
my malady in my crotch.
She couldn’t commit fornication,
she said, she wouldn’t do it for anyone.
The lovely maid was not to be had of her own will,
I wouldn’t commit rape anymore than a wren.
Still, nevertheless, she agreed
of her own will to let me have her barrel:
my sweetheart jumped, radiant bosom,
into bed and paid with her arse.

Y Clerigwr a’r Forwyn (The Cleric and the Virgin), trans. id. p. 107. The woman subsequently wore the man out with her eagerness for sex. While men raping women has always been regarded as a serious crime, today rape of men is appallingly obscured and trivialized.

[6] E.g. id., introduction and commentary on individual poems.

[image] Apocalípico I, by Mauricio García Vega. Thanks to Mauricio García Vega and Wikimedia Commons.

Reference:

Johnston, Dafydd. 1991. Canu Maswedd yr Oesoedd canol = Medieval Welsh erotic poetry. Grangetown: Tafol.

Aesop Romance: quarrels of story-telling, philosophy & poetry

From nearly the beginning of the Roman Empire, story-tellers told of a quarrel between the fabulist Aesop and the philosopher Xanthus. Philosophers, also known as sophists, were by this time the most powerful figures in Greco-Roman culture. The quarrel between Aesop and Xanthus became the popular work now known as the Aesop Romance. Story-telling today is widely recognized as a powerful cultural practice. The relation of Aesop’s quarrel with Xanthus to the cultural authority of story-telling hasn’t yet been adequately appreciated.

The story-telling author of the Aesop Romance seems to have learned from Plato. One of Plato’s most brilliant ideas was to instigate a quarrel between philosophy and poetry.[1] Goddesses residing on Mount Parnassus represented poetry. Athenian city officialdom regularly staged major festivals of dramatic poetry. Philosophy, in contrast, mattered relatively little. Philosophy probably reached its pinnacle of public recognition in fifth-century Athens when the comic poet Aristophanes lampooned Socrates and his silly school of philosophy.[2] Promoting a public quarrel between philosophy and poetry raised lowly philosophy to the august heights of poetry. The Aesop Romance worked similarly for story-telling in relation to philosophy at a time when philosophy had leading cultural authority.[3]

The Aesop Romance begins with Aesop at the bottom of the Greco-Roman status hierarchy. Aesop was a slave born in a foreign land. Slave and foreign were two marks of low status. Aesop also was ugly:

potbellied, misshapen of head, snub-nosed, swarthy, dwarfish, bandy-legged, short-armed, squint-eyed, liver-lipped — a portentous monstrosity. [4]

Aesop was put to work digging in a field outside the city. Working outside the home and outside the city marked him as the lowest among the lowly slaves. Even worse, Aesop lacked capacity for speech. In Greco-Roman culture, not being able to speak made a man no better than a beast.

Aesop showed the power of story-telling even before he gained the ability to speak. Aesop’s master had a bowel of figs. Other slaves ate all the master’s figs. When the master saw that all his figs had vanished, he inquired into the matter. The other slaves blamed Aesop. Aesop, because he couldn’t speak, couldn’t argue his own case. But he drank some warm water, stuck his finger down his throat, and threw up all that was in his stomach. The contents of his stomach were only water. The master ordered the other slaves to do likewise. Their vomit contained remnants of figs. The only possible story that could explain the contents of their stomachs was that they, not Aesop, had eaten the master’s figs.[5]

Aesop Romance: Aesop entertaining philosophers

Aesop gained the ability to speak through the well-established story of benefiting from kindness to strangers. A priestess of Isis, passing by the field in which Aesop was working, asked him for directions. Aesop took her by the hand, led her to a grove, and gave her food and drink. Then he took her to the main road. In return for his hospitality, the priestess prayed to Isis to give Aesop the ability to speak. Isis and her nine Muses gave Aesop the power of speech, and more:

They conferred on him the power to devise stories and the ability to conceive and elaborate tales in Greek. [6]

When the Aesop Romance was first written, fables attributed to Aesop had already been circulating for centuries.[7] The Aesop Romance is about the cultural status of such story-telling.

Impressed with Aesop’s responses to questions, the philosopher Xanthus purchased him. Xanthus’s wife had told him to purchase a slave for her. Xanthus’s wife, who was carried about in a litter, dominated Xanthus even though he taught his students “one shouldn’t pay attention to a woman.”[8] Further undermining the cultural authority of philosophy, Xanthus praised the dancing of pantomimes:

Gentlemen and scholars, you must not think that philosophy consists only in what can be put in words. Philosophy is also in acts. Indeed, unspoken philosophy often surpasses that which is expressed in words. You can observe this in the case of dancers, how by the movement of their hands the continued motions themselves express an unspoken philosophy. [9]

Pantomime dancers provided mass entertainment. Xanthus’s subservience to his wife and admiration for pantomimes are blows to his philosophic prestige. Xanthus’s slave Aesop delivered many more such blows.

The Aesop Romance provides an early example of the philological-bureaucratic skill of working to rule. Angered by Xanthus’s bothersome commands, Aesop resolved to himself: “I’ll give this philosopher a lesson in how to give orders.”[10] Xanthus asked Aesop to bring the oil flask and towels to him at the bath in the city. Persons in the ancient world commonly anointed themselves with oil after a bath. Aesop brought the flask without filling it with oil, because Xanthus had said, “oil flask,” not “flask with oil.” When Xanthus commanded Aesop to cook lentil for dinner, Aesop cooked a single lentil. When Xanthus commanded Aesop to bring food “to her who loves me,” Aesop brought food to Xanthus’s female dog rather than to his wife. Aesop similarly engaged in deliberate mis-communication with others. In doing so, he highlighted the maddening silliness of verbal sophistication.

Aesop pointedly ridiculed philosophy in serving tongues for food. Xanthus invited his students to his home for dinner. He ordered his slave Aesop to cook “the finest thing imaginable.” For each course of the meal, Aesop served tongues of pigs. The students were overcome with nausea and admitted “defeat by tongue.” Xanthus castigated Aesop for disregarding his order to serve “the finest, the most delicious thing imaginable.” Noting that Xanthus ordered him to bring “the finest, the most delicious, the greatest thing imaginable,” Aesop explained:

Well, what can one imagine finer or greater than the tongue? You must observe that all philosophy, all education, depends on the tongue. Without the tongue nothing gets done, neither giving, nor receiving, nor buying. By means of the tongue states are reformed and ordinance and laws laid down. If, then, all life is ordered by the tongue, nothing is greater than the tongue. [11]

Xanthus’s students praised Aesop’s answer and told Xanthus that Aesop was right and he was wrong. The students then went home and from their tongue dinner suffered diarrhea all night long.

Aesop more subtly ridiculed philosophy in proving that one of Aesop’s students was a busybody. Aesop set out to prove that the student was a busybody by showing, for implicit comparison, a man who was not a busybody. That’s a parody of indirect proof: demonstrating that a person is not a non-busybody, and hence must be a busybody. The proof succeeds with a rustic unconcerned about anything. When Xanthus pretends to prepare to immolate his own wife, sure that the rustic would chivalrously intervene to protect the woman, the rustic urged Xanthus to wait. The rustic said that he wanted to fetch his wife so that Xanthus could burn both wives. Xanthus then stopped and conceded defeat. The rustic thus verbally triumphed over gynocentrism and the hypocritical philosopher.[12]

Aesop’s power as a story-teller ultimately didn’t save him from his foolish behavior. At Delphi, persons who heard him give a speaking exhibition didn’t reward him with gifts. Aesop in response insulted them and their city. To strike back at Aesop, the Delphians hid a temple cup in his baggage. They then uncovered it and falsely accused him of temple theft.[13] Aesop told stories to try to dissuade the Delphians from executing him for theft and blasphemy. But Aesop’s story-telling failed. He was forced to jump off a cliff.

The fame of Aesop and modern appreciation for story-telling ignores the end of the story: Aesop dead at the bottom of a cliff. In our world, story-telling has triumphed over philosophy. But if you believe the story of the Aesop Romance, poetic justice will prevail in the end.

*  *  *  *  *

Read more:

Notes:

[1] Declared explicitly in Plato, Republic X, 607b-c. For relevant discussion, see the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy and Most (2011).

[2] Aristophanes, Clouds.

[3] Gibbs (2009) describes Aesop as an “anti-philosopher” and a “wise fool.” Aesop in the Aesop Romance seems to me to have a more specific position than the generic folk-type “wise fool.” Kurke (2010), in contrast, describes the complex relationship of the Aesop Romance to a wide range of classical Greek literature. One strand of Kurke’s account is understanding the Aesop Romance as a popular critique of elitist practices. My approach here provides a simpler view of the Aesop Romance in the context of strategically instigated quarrels between philosophy and poetry, and then story-telling and philosophy. This account encompasses three millennia of literature from ancient Greek poetry to story-telling today.

[4] Aesop Romance (The Book of Xanthus the Philosopher and Aesop his Slave or the Career of Aesop) 1, from Greek trans. Lloyd W. Daly in Hansen (1998) p. 111. All subsequent quotes from the Aesop Romance are from Daly’s translation in id. The Aesop Romance (Vita Aesopi), which dates from about the time of Jesus, became highly popular through to the twentieth century. It has a diverse, complex manuscript corpus. Daly’s translation is based on the manuscript stem Vita G (Perriana), supplemented (indicated by brackets) with text from Vita W (Westermanniana).  The characterization of Aesop as an ugly, foreign slave goes back at least to the fifth-century BGC. Kurke (2010) pp. 3, 41.

[5] Aesop Romance  2-3, Hansen (1998) pp. 112-3. In the Islamic world, Aesop became associated with a person known as Luqman the Wise. The story of the figs exists in Rumi’s Mathnawi I: 3584-3607.

[6] Aesop Romance 7, id. p. 114. Another account of hospitality to strangers is Genesis 18: 1-15 (Abraham, Sarah, and the three angels).

[7] Fables of Aesop were known in fifth-century BGC Athens. For various collections of Aesop’s fables, see Laura Gibb’s magnificent site Aesopica.

[8] Aesop Romance 24, Hansen (1998) p. 121.

[9] Aesop Romance 22, id. p. 120.

[10] Aesop Romance 38, id. p. 128. The issues of the oil flask, lentils, and food for the one who loves Xanthus are in sec. 38, 39. 44-50a, id. pp. 128-33. The Old French farce Le Cuvier (The Washtub) is another comic tale of working to rule.

[11] Aesop Romance 53, id. p. 134. Note the continual addition of superlatives in describing the request. Being able to speak eloquently was highly valued in the Roman Empire. The claim that the tongue is both the best and worse portion occurs in the Seven Sages tradition. Plutarch was fond of this claim. He quotes it, among other places, in his Banquet of the Seven Sages, Ch. 2, 147f. For discussion, Kurke (2010) pp. 218-22. Kurke describes the murals of the Seven Sages at Ostia as an Aesopic parody without Aesop. Id. p. 236, discussed pp. 229-36.

[12] Aesop Romance 56-64, Hansen (1998) p. 135-8.

[13] Cf. Genesis 44:1-17 (Joseph has his cup hidden in Benjamin’s bag). Kurke (2010) detects in this story a complicated ideological critique that extends back to the fifth-century BGC. Kurke (2010) Ch. 1.

[image] Aesop entertaining two priests, who appear dressed as philosophers. Plate before p. 3 in Barlow (1687). The drawing identifies the figures whom Aesop is entertaining as “Gnthias priests.” The associated text describes Aesop entertaining “two priests of Diana.” In Daly’s text, Aesop entertains a single priest of Isis.

References:

Barlow, Francis, with Aphra Behn, Thomas Philipot, Robert Codrington and Thomas Dudley. 1687. Æsop’s fables with his life in English, French and Latin. London: Printed by H. Hills, Jun., for Francis Barlow, and are to be sold by Chr. Wilkinson … Tho. Fox … and Henry Faithorne. (online, 64 MB pdf)

Gibbs, Laura. 2009. “Life of Aesop: The Wise Fool and the Philosopher.” Journey to the Sea 9.

Hansen, William F., ed. 1998. Anthology of ancient Greek popular literature. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Kurke, Leslie. 2011. Aesopic conversations: popular tradition, cultural dialogue, and the invention of Greek prose. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. Kurke’s introduction.

Most, Glenn W. 2011. “What Ancient Quarrel between Philosophy and Poetry?” Pp. 1-20 in Destrée, Pierre, and Fritz-Gregor Herrmann. 2011. Plato and the poets. Leiden: Brill.

Aseneth & Xanthus’s wife replay Jesus washing feet

The Gospel of John, the pseudepigraphical story Joseph and Aseneth, and the Aesop Romance all include accounts of negotiated washing of feet. Joseph and Aseneth and the Aesop Romance plausibly date from the first century BGC to the fifth-century GC. Both, however, seem to gain meaning from the Gospel’s account of Jesus washing the feet of Peter.

Jesus washing feet from Gospel of John

Jesus before the Passover meal preceding his execution washed the feet of his disciples. One disciple, Peter, the rock on which Jesus established his church, objected after Jesus had already washed others’ feet. Peter said to Jesus:

Lord, are you going to wash my feet? … You will never wash my feet.[1]

Jesus explained that accepting this service was necessary for Peter to be with Jesus. Peter then eagerly accepted.

The pseudepigraphical story Joseph and Aseneth includes a similar account of washing feet. Joseph and Aseneth rationalized the marriage of the Israelite Joseph to the idolatrous foreigner Aseneth, daughter of the Egyptian priest of On.[2] It explained that Aseneth renounced idolatry and turned to worshiping the one true Hebrew God of Joseph before she married Joseph. Joseph and Aseneth describes Aseneth as a strong, independent woman who hated men. But she fell in love with Joseph at first sight and repented her hostility toward him. Aseneth expressed her love for Joseph in part through washing his feet:

Aseneth said to him, “Come, my lord, come into my house;” and she took his right hand and brought him inside her house. And Joseph sat down on her father Pentephres’s seat, and she brought water to wash his feet; and Joseph said to her, “Let one of your virgins come, and let her wash my feet.” And Aseneth said to him, “No, my lord, for my hands are your hands, and your feet my feet, and no one else shall wash your feet;” and so she had her way and washed his feet. [3]

According to a recent study, Joseph and Aseneth is best understood as a Syriac Christian text of the late third or fourth centuries. Aseneth figures the Christian Church, and Joseph, Jesus.[4] The Church serving Jesus like Jesus served Peter expresses the unity of the Church and Jesus. That unity is expressed more specifically in Aseneth’s words, “my hands are your hands, and your feet my feet.”

The Aesop Romance parodies washing of feet as loving service. The philosopher Xanthus proposed to teach his slave Aesop a lesson. His wife eagerly agreed. She declared, “That’s what I’m praying for.” Xanthus told his wife:

Get up and take a basin over to his stranger as though you intended to wash his feet. From your appearance he’ll know that you’re the lady of the house and won’t let you do it but will say: “Lady, don’t you have any slave to wash my feet?” He’ll be shown up as a busybody, and Aesop will get a beating. [5]

The stranger was a rustic. Not wanting to be a busybody, he didn’t object to Xanthus’s wife washing his feet. The Aesop Romance most plausibly was written between the Gospel of John and Joseph and Aseneth. It engages in implicit critique of a wide range of authoritative literature.[6] That critique may have encompassed the Gospel of John.[7] In any case, the Aesop Romance suggests that washing of feet as loving service was a well-established motif in common culture in the early centuries of Christianity.

*  *  *  *  *

Read more:

Notes:

[1] From John 13:1-15. Jesus washing his disciples feet is “a symbolic enactment of what Jesus would do for his followers through his death.” The phrase “share with me” (met’ emou) connects John 13:8 and John 17:24. Koester (1995) pp. 131-2. Feet-washing was common practice in the ancient world. See, e.g. Homer, Odyssey Bk. 19, ll. 343-507, Bk. 22, ll. 478-82; Genesis 18:4; 1 Samuel 25:41; Luke 7:44; 1 Timothy 5:10.

[2] Genesis 41:45.

[3] Joseph and Aseneth XX.1-3, trans. Cook (1984) from critical edition of short recension. Feet-washing as normal practice occurs in Joseph and Aseneth, VII. 1 and XIII.12. Joseph and Aseneth was originally written in Greek, but Syriac, Slavonic, Armenian and Latin manuscripts all contribute significantly to the critical edition. Mark Goodacre’s Joseph and Aseneth site provides online resources for studying the text.

[4] Nir (2012), Nir (2013).

[5] Aesop Romance 61, from Greek trans. Lloyd W. Daly in Hansen (1998) p. 137.

[6] Kurke (2011).

[7] In the Aesop Romance, the attempt to show the rustic to be a busybody culminates in a proposed execution: the immolation of Aesop’s wife. That’s another possible parodic connection to Jesus washing his disciples’ feet at his final Passover dinner. In addition, Aesop elsewhere states:

And what is there that is bad which does not come about through the tongue. It is because of the tongue that there are enmity, plots, battles, rivalry, strife, wars.

Aesop Romance 55, trans. Daly in Hansen (1998) p. 134. That passage echoes a motif of Christian texts, e.g. Matt 15:19, Mark 7:21-22. That motif, however, probably was also common outside of Christian texts.

[image] Christ washing Peter’s feet. Giotto di Bondone, c. 1305. In Scrovegni Chapel. Padua. Thanks to Wikimedia Commons.

References:

Cook, David, ed. and trans. 1984 “Joseph and Aseneth.” Pp. 473-503 in Sparks, H. F. D. The Apocryphal Old Testament. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Hansen, William F., ed. 1998. Anthology of ancient Greek popular literature. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Koester, Craig R. 1995. Symbolism in the fourth Gospel: meaning, mystery, community. Minneapolis: Fortress Press.

Kurke, Leslie. 2011. Aesopic conversations popular tradition, cultural dialogue, and the invention of Greek prose. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.

Nir, Rivkah. 2012. Joseph and Aseneth: a Christian book. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press.

Nir, Rivka. 2013. “‘It Is Not Right For a Man Who Worships God to Repay His Neighbor Evil For Evil’: Christian Ethics in Joseph and Aseneth (Chapters 22–29).” Journal of Hebrew Scriptures. 13, art. 5: 1-29.

Gwerful Mechain on women's control of men's sexuality

woman hugging phallus

Gwerful Mechain of Powys, a Welsh poet of the late-fifteenth century, complained of wives’ jealousy. In addition to praising vaginas, Mechain bragged, “every big-cocked lover is after me.” But, Mechain explained, wives strictly control their men’s sexuality:

no virtuous wife will give,
the silly girl, her prick and her pole,
if it follows a cunt in field,
it wouldn’t go one inch from her fist,
not freely, she would not allow it,
nor basely, not for any price;
she would not make a deal with anyone
condoning adultery. [1]

The figure “not one inch from her fist” points to the potency of women’s physical aggression against men. The phrase “not for any price” hints at women’s control of family finances. Medieval literature describes men attempting to guard access to their wives to avoid being cuckolded. Sexual asymmetry in parental knowledge creates through biological evolution men’s concern for biological paternity security. Because women naturally know who their biological children are, women’s control of men’s sexuality is more difficult to understand.

Modern regulation of men’s sexuality works through legal attachments to men’s earning capacity. A plausible evolutionary basis for women’s sexual jealousy is women’s concern for exclusive control over a man’s productive capacity. In Gwerful Mechain’s poem, the “big-cocked lover” can be understood as a sub-conscious metaphor for the rich man. Not surprisingly, Gwerful Mechain weighs the penis against material goods:

Despite giving eighteen
of the lord’s cows, and the plough oxen,
and giving, however much the need,
rash summons, all the sheep,
a shapely girl prefers,
some say, to give the buildings and the land,
and would sooner give her good cunt,
beware, than give her cock;
sooner give her pan from her kitchen and her provision
and her trivet than her fine bare post;
sudden is her haste, sooner give her headdress
and all her possessions than give the prick. [2]

Gynocentrism and the growth of state child-support bureaucracies encode in child-support laws the fierce force of women’s sexual jealousy.[3]

*  *  *  *  *

Read more:

Notes:

[1] Gwerful Mechain, I Wragedd Eiddigeddus (To Jealous Wives), from Welsh trans. Johnston (1991) p. 37. Little is known about Gwerful Mechain. She probably lived from c. 1462-1500. Johnston, as if oblivious to violence against men and the legal suppression of men’s sexuality, uncritically describes this poem as a “declaration of female sexuality and the right to satisfaction.” Johnston (1998) p. 71. For further uncritical celebration of Gwerful Mechain, see Gramich (2006).

[2] Id. p. 39. Mechain guilefully distances this claim with “some say.”

[3] In the popular Aesop Romance, written in Greek about the second century, Xanthus’s wife left him after she wrongly perceived that he had insulted her. Aesop induced Xanthus’s wife to return by falsely indicating to her that her husband was preparing to marry another woman. Aesop Romance 50-50a, from Greek trans. Hansen (1998) pp. 132-3.

[image] Woman hugging phallus. At Sex Museum, Tongli, China. Thanks to Stougard and Wikicommons.

References:

Gramich, Katie. 2006. “Orality and Morality: Early Welsh Women’s Poetry.” Acume.

Hansen, William F., ed. 1998. Anthology of ancient Greek popular literature. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Johnston, Dafydd. 1991. Canu Maswedd yr Oesoedd canol = Medieval Welsh erotic poetry. Grangetown: Tafol.

Johnston, Dafydd. 1998. “Erotica and Satire in Medieval Welsh Poetry.” Pp. 60-72 in Ziolkowski, Jan M, ed. Obscenity: social control and artistic creation in the European Middle Ages. Leiden {The Netherlands}: Brill.