Castration is a starkly gendered form of violence against men. Some men historically have suffered castration to serve their own interests in becoming high-ranking officials. These eunuch officials have been widely despised for being vicious and jealous. A few years after Jesus of Nazareth was crucified, Philip the Evangelist met on the road from Jerusalem to Gaza an Ethiopian eunuch. The biblical book Acts clearly characterizes this Ethiopian eunuch, a high-ranking official, as gracious and genteel.
The Ethiopian eunuch was both a royal African official and a pious, humble man. Acts records:
A man of Ethiopia, a eunuch of great power under Candace queen of the Ethiopians, the man who was in charge of all her treasure, had come to Jerusalem to worship.
Returning from Jerusalem, the Ethiopian eunuch was sitting in his chariot, as befits a high official. He wasn’t checking for messages and sending texts to many different persons. A pious man, he was reading aloud and pondering the biblical book of Isaiah. That prophetic book concerns the destiny of Israel after the terrible suffering of its exile.
Philip the Evangelist ran up to the Ethiopian eunuch’s chariot. Royal bodyguards might have killed Philip as a possible assailant. Perhaps the Ethiopian eunuch restrained his bodyguards. In any case, Philip then impudently asked:
Do you even understand what you are reading?
{ ἆρά γε γινώσκεις ἃ ἀναγινώσκεις }[2]
The ancient Greek form of the question presumes that the Ethiopian eunuch, a royal official, didn’t understand what he was reading. A typical royal official might have responded angrily, e.g. she might have said, “What the hell are you doing, asking me such a question, you walking lunatic nobody?”
Despite Philip’s impudence, the Ethiopian eunuch responded graciously and humbly. He accepted Philip’s suggestion that he didn’t understand what he was reading. He sought Philip’s help with sophisticated, oblique rhetoric:
And how could I, unless someone guides me?
{ πῶς γὰρ ἂν δυναίμην ἐὰν μή τις ὁδηγήσει με }
This royal official then invited Philip to sit with him in his chariot. He asked Philip about Isaiah’s meaning in describing a man suffering under unjust treatment:
I ask you, please tell me, about whom does the prophet say this? About himself, or about someone else?
The Ethiopian eunuch thus imploringly petitioned Philip for an answer, as if Philip were a royal official. Philip then explained that Isaiah foretold Jesus’s coming.
While the Ethiopian eunuch acted humbly toward Philip, he retained the courtliness and authority of a royal official. When the chariot came to some water, the eunuch said:
Look, water. What prevents me from being baptized?
{ ἰδοὺ ὕδωρ τί κωλύει με βαπτισθῆναι }
The directness of “look, water {ἰδοὺ ὕδωρ}” contrasts sharply with the circumlocutory question, “what prevents me from being baptized {τί κωλύει με βαπτισθῆναι}?” That circumlocutory question is more elegant than the direct request, “baptize me,” or the direct question, “will you baptize me?” No obstacle existed to the eunuch being baptized. The eunuch thus “commanded {ἐκέλευσεν}” the chariot to stop, emphasizing his authority. Both the eunuch and Philip went down into the water. That explicit mutuality emphasizes their equal status as human beings. Philip then baptized the eunuch, and the eunuch went on his way “rejoicing {χαίρων}.”
Not all eunuch officials are vicious, jealous, self-loathing persons. The Ethiopian eunuch as described in the biblical book Acts is one of the most admirable persons in the New Testament.[3] Despite his high royal position and Philip the Evangelist’s effrontery, the Ethiopian eunuch treated Philip graciously. Moreover, the Ethiopian eunuch spoke with cultured sophistication. He also was open to new understandings and new ways of being. Despite having suffering the sexual violence of castration, he was neither angry nor bitter. Christianity understands God to have become incarnate as a person with masculine genitals, and Christianity fully recognizes men’s seminal blessing.[4] In turning the world upside down, Acts presents the Ethiopian eunuch as an exemplary Christian.
[1] Acts 8:27, ancient Greek text (morphological GNT) via Blue Letter Bible, my English translation, drawing upon widely available biblical translations. Subsequent quotes above are similarly from Acts 8:26-39 (the story of the Ethiopian eunuch and Philip).
Since no later than the seventeenth century, the story of the Ethiopian eunuch was included in the Octave of Easter in the Roman Missal. The Episcopal Book of Common Prayer (1979 edition) celebrates on August 27 the “Feast of Simeon Bachos, the Ethiopian Eunuch.” Neither the Bible nor Patristic sources on the Ethiopian eunuch specify his name. “Simeon Bachos” apparently arose relatively late as a name for this important Christian person.
Candace was the Greco-Roman name for the queen of the Nile valley empire called Kush. Greco-Romans referred to Kush as Ethiopia. The capital of Kush was Meroë, which is in present-day Sudan.
Acts refers to this eminent Ethiopian Christian convert as a eunuch five times. Wilson preposterously claimed that the story “marks him solely in terms of his lack of physical manhood.” Wilson (2014) p. 405. To the contrary, Acts characterizes him as pious, gracious, open-minded, wealthy, politically powerful, and happy. Cf. “the Ethiopian eunuch defies categorization…. His lack of definition is extreme.” Carson (1999) p. 145, as quoted in Burke (2013) p. 1.
The word “man {ἀνὴρ}” in Acts 8:27 is distinctively gendered male in ancient Greek. Though a eunuch, the Ethiopian was nonetheless a man. Scholars recently have tended to deny his identity as a man and deny men’s suffering from castration. E.g. Kartzow & Moxnes (2010), Burke (2013), Wilson (2014). One present-day cleric insightfully commented:
What might be his back story? He may have been taken as a young boy to become a eunuch. He had no choice in the matter, and he probably didn’t know what was happening to him. To become a eunuch his testicles were crushed to stop him producing testosterone. Because he had no testosterone, this altered his growth and changed his appearance. His voice never broke, so as an adult he still had the voice of a boy. His body had little hair, and his body grew in disproportionate ways – reduced muscles, but increased body fat in his abdomen, and he developed breasts. His bones would be weaker and more likely to break. He would also be lethargic and depressed.
Smith (2021). The Ethiopian eunuch doesn’t appear in Acts to be lethargic and depressed. He rejoices in being baptized as a Christian.
Whether the Ethiopian eunuch suffered the crushing and removal of his testicles, the amputation of his penis, or both isn’t clear. Such sexual violence has little relation to the modern ideological construction “phallus.” The “phallus” ideologically continues the brutalization of penises by displacing a physical organ with a disparaging ideological construction. Consider the tortuous effect:
Eunuchs in the Greco-Roman world were considered the ultimate “nonmen” since they lacked one of the main features — if not the main feature — of masculinity, namely, a functioning phallus. Given the increased emphasis placed on not just the phallus but the large phallus during the Roman Empire, the eunuch’s so-called deficient phallus made him an object of even more scorn during this period. … Both Jesus and the eunuch do not generate descendants by means of sexual relations and thus relativize the procreative power of the phallus. We know that Jesus has a phallus since he is circumcised in Luke 2:21, yet the generative potential of his phallus does not figure into the growth of his newly formed family of God.
Wilson (2015) pp. Men don’t experience genital mutilation to the ideological, abstract phallus. Men with any sense of interpersonal relations also do not have sex with it.
[2] Philip {Φίλιππος} the Evangelist, who isn’t the same person as Philip the Apostle, was perhaps a relatively wealthy man. He was one of seven Christians chosen to provide for poor widows in Jerusalem. Acts 6:1-6.
[3] For theological interpretations of the story of the Ethiopian eunuch of Acts, see, e.g. Aymer (2021) and Martens (2015). For an interpretation of this story “From a queer perspective, … as a drag show with implications for inclusion in early Christian communities,” Burke (c. 2024). Ebed-Melech {עֶבֶד-מֶלֶךְ}, another Ethiopian eunuch, was also an admirable, godly person. Jeremiah 38:7-13, 39:15-18,
[4] Amid diffuse problematizing and ambiguating, academics have failed to appreciate the incarnate reality of Jesus’s masculinity and the seminal blessing that men offer women. Consider, for example, the paradoxical ambiguity of the scholarly conclusion, ‘Indeed, for {the gospel of} Luke, “real” men look manifestly unmanly.’ Wilson (2015), concluding sentence of the book abstract. In elaborating on boundary-crossing and ambiguity, Wilson (2014) and Wilson (2015) remain strictly confined within the rigid boundaries of contemporary academic orthodoxy. Further demonstrating the possibility of having the word made meaningless, Wilson (2016) claims to ‘problematize how we view Jesus as a “man.”’ But who is “we”?
[images] (1) The Ethiopian eunuch with Philip in a chariot stopping for baptism. From folio 107 of the Menologian of Basil II, made about 1000 GC and preserved as Ms. Vat. gr. 1613. Source image via Wikimedia Commons. For a narrow-minded, tendentious analysis of this image, Betancourt (2020) Chapter 5. Betancourt’s bullying manipulation of reality grotesquely characterizes a central feature of contemporary intellectual life. Consider his declaration:
Whether Empress Teodora actually carried out the sexual deeds and abortions that Procopius slut-shames her for does not matter, because there were other women in the past subjected to the same — and far worse — rhetorical and physical violence as that imputed against Procopius’s literary Teodora. … To deny these realities is to be complicit with violence — both physical and rhetorical — not just in the past but also in the present.
Betancourt (2020) p. 17. Similarly, id. p. 207. Betancourt provides little historical documentation about the realities of those “other women.” He shows no concern for the vastly gender-disproportionate violence against men obvious from the Iliad to present-day mortality statistics. He trivializes gender inequality in parental knowledge and sexual oppression of men. In general, his arch concern for marginalization and oppression extends only to what’s intellectually fashionable. That makes his bullying particularly disgusting. (2) Philip the Evangelist baptizing the Ethiopian eunuch. Painting by Rembrandt c. 1626. Preserved as accession # ABM s380 in the Museum Catharijneconvent (Utrecht, Netherlands). Image via Wikimedia Commons. For analysis of this painting, Kauffman (2015). Rembrandt’s painting much less faithful translatesActs 8:26-39 than does the painting in the Menologian of Basil. Uncannily echoing Rembrandt’s ideological painting of the story, Betancourt asserts that Philip was the one “commanding the {Ethiopian eunuch’s} chariot to stop.” Betancourt (2020) p. 161.
Betancourt, Roland. 2020. Byzantine Intersectionality: Sexuality, Gender, and Race in the Middle Ages. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Introduction. Reviews by Meaghan Allen and by C. Libby.
Burke, Sean D. 2013. Queering the Ethiopian Eunuch: Strategies of Ambiguity in Acts. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press. Introduction. Brief review.
Carson, Cottrel R. 1999. ‘Do You Understand What You Are Reading?’ A Reading of the Ethiopian Eunuch Story (Acts 8.26-40) from a Site of Cultural Marronage. Ph.D. Thesis, Union Theological Seminary.
Kartzow, Marianne B., and Halvor Moxnes. 2010. “Complex Identities: Ethnicity, Gender and Religion in the Story of the Ethiopian Eunuch (Acts 8:26–40).” Religion & Theology. 17 (3-4): 184–204.
Smith, Andrew. 2021. “The backstory of the Ethiopian Eunuch.” Letters, Thoughts, News. Canberra Region Presbytery (Australia). Post online May 2, 2021.
According to the ancient Greek historian Herodotus, Cleisthenes, the tyrant-ruler of Sicyon, wanted his daughter Agariste to marry the best man among all Greek men. Like most fathers, Cleisthenes apparently adored his daughter and assumed that all men would want to marry her and have him as father-in-law:
Cleisthenes made a proclamation, bidding any Greek men who consider themselves worthy to be his son-in-law to come on the sixtieth day hence or earlier to Sicyon. There, said Cleisthenes, he would promise marriage in a year from that sixtieth day. All the Greek men who were swollen with pride in themselves and their native land then came to seek Agariste’s hand. Cleisthenes made a running track and wrestling arena for the suitors to compete to achieve this end.
Herodotus cataloged these eminent Greek suitors of Agariste like the Hesiodic catalog of suitors of Helen and the Iliadic catalog of warriors coming to Troy to engage in violence against men for Helen.[3] Cleisthenes inquired about each man’s family and lineage. He tested them for a long time in various ways:
He then kept them with him for a year, testing their manliness and temper and upbringing and manner of life. He did this by consorting with them alone and in company, and putting the younger of them to contests in the gymnasium, but especially by watching their demeanor at the common meal.
Cleisthenes gradually came to favor the Athenian Hippocleides, son of Tisander, for his outstanding “manliness {ἀνδραγαθία}.”[4] That manliness included learning and cultural sophistication as well as physical strength. Hippocleides thus became the leading contestant for marriage to Agariste.
Cleisthenes planned to announce on the very day of the marriage ceremony the winning suitor, whom he undoubtedly chose in private consultation with his daughter Agariste. Cleisthenes thus hosted a great feast and invited all of Sicyon to attend. The competition between the men for the woman continued even during the marriage feast:
After the meal, the suitors vied with each other in music and dance and in public speaking for all to hear. Having sat for a long time drinking with the other suitors, Hippocleides, now far outdoing the rest, ordered a flute-player to play slow, stately dance music. The flute-player obeyed, and Hippocleides began to dance. I suppose he pleased himself with his dancing, but Cleisthenes saw the whole business with much disfavor.
Men should dance no matter who disfavors them doing so. Hippocleides showed himself to be a well-trained, sensational dancer:
Hippocleides then stopped for a while and ordered a table to be brought. When the table arrived, he first danced Laconian dance movements on it, and then Attic. Last of all, he rested upside-down with his head on the table and performed with his legs a dance-like form of shadow-boxing.
Greek men wore tunics and no underwear. Hippocleides thus culminated his performance of various dances by displaying his genitals and buttocks while dancing upside-down. In performing an upside-down shadow-boxing dance, he seems to have been taunting Cleisthenes for having men compete to marry Agariste.
The conflict between Cleisthenes and Hippocleides burst into words. Both persons gave their interpretations of Hippocleides’s concluding dance:
During the first and the second dance displays, Cleisthenes could no longer accept considering Hippocleides as his son-in-law because of his dancing and his shamelessness. Nonetheless, he held his tongue, for he didn’t want to censure Hippocleides publicly. However, when he saw him performing with his legs the dance-like form of shadow-boxing, he could no longer keep silent. He said, “Son of Tisander, you indeed have so danced away your marriage.” Hippocleides said in reply, “Hippocleides doesn’t care!” So it is from this that this gets a name.
Men’s best response to gynocentric demands that they “be a man” and renounce their “toxic masculinity” is “I don’t care.” To those who attempt to teach men that they are inferior to women and that the future is female, men should say “I don’t care.” For those who show no concern other than for “what women want,” men should say “I don’t care.”
Book 5 of the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women is the earliest and most important textual account of Helen’s suitors. It describes a wide array of Greek heroes, “desiring to be beautiful-haired Helen’s husband {ἱμείρων Ἑλένης πόσις ἔμμεναι ἠυκόμοιο}.” Catalogue of Women, Book 5, ancient Greek text and English translation for fragment 154d 1 (31) from Most (2018) pp. 248-9. For an earlier, far inferior edition, see fragment 68 in Evelyn-White (1914). These foolish men offered lavish material gifts to “win” marriage to the truly horrific Helen.
Writing 800 or 900 years after Hesiod, the author known as Apollodorus (pseudo-Apollodorus) also lists suitors of Helen. Apollodorus, The Library {Bibliotheca} 3.10.18, ancient Greek text and English translation available in Frazer (1921).
Lavelle observed of Herodotus’s story of Hippocleides among the competing suitors of Agariste:
The story has been cited since Grote {in a book published in 1888} as a doublet of the mythical ‘wooing of Helen’ of Sparta.
Lavelle (2014) p. 321, footnote omitted. The outcomes of the two stories — the Trojan War’s horrific violence against men and Hippocleides’s transgressive dance and quip — differ starkly.
[2] Herodotus, Histories (Ἱστορίαι} 6.126, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified) from Godley (1920). In translating ἐξωγκωμένοι, I’ve drawn upon the insights in Kurke (2011) pp. 417-8. Subsequent quotes above are similarly sourced from Herodotus’s Histories 6.126-9. Tom Holland has provided a freely available English translation of Histories 6.126-9, apparently from Holland (2014).
The historical significance of Herodotus’s story of Hippocleides among the competing suitors of Agariste has been widely debated, except with respect to gender. Lavelle regarded the story, apart from the fact of the marriage of Agariste, to be obviously fictional:
The stunning reversal {in the story} is in fact improbable — it is as if ‘Hippokleides’ is two different persons — and raises doubts about the story, to which may be added those created by its obvious folktale elements and impossible chronologies. Notwithstanding its dubious nature, the tale has been taken as essentially factual by many scholars. … In fact, it is not history at all.
Lavelle (2014) pp. 313-4, 321.
Some scholars argue that the story derives from the ancient Indic Pāli fable “The Dancing Peacock.” See fable 32 in Davids & Fausbøll (1880) pp. 291-3. For a recent argument for “The Dancing Peacock” as Herodotus’s source, Kurke (2011) pp. 414-20. Others see Herodotus’s story as arising independently of the “The Dancing Peacock.” Nagy (2022). Overall, where the story falls between myth and history isn’t clear:
The relationship between history and myth in the case of Agariste’s betrothal could well be of a mise en abyme variety: it may belong to a type of event — and story — that flows in a somewhat systemic way out of the features of our species and cultural structures of particular societies, crossing freely between history and myth and belonging fully to neither. The permeable interface between mythical history and historical myth in Agariste’s betrothal remains invisible
[4] Cleisthenes {Κλεισθένης} of Sicyon (Kleisthenes of Sikyon) is thought to have been tyrant-ruler of Sicyon from about 600 to 560 BGC. Other than from Herodotus’s story, nothing more is known of Hippocleides / Hippokleides {Ἱπποκλείδης} than that he was highly regarded and was the Athenian Eponymous Archon in 566 BGC when the Greater Panathenaia was established. Lavelle (2013) p. 313.
[5] Flute-player here refers to a player of the ancient Greek aulos {αὐλός}, which has two pipes and a strong, driving sound like that of bagpipes. On the sound of the aulos, Lavelle (2013) pp. 326-7. Hippocleides told the aulos player to play a specific type of dance music — an emmeleia {ἐμμελεία}. That’s a slow, stately dance associated with tragic choruses.
The ancient Greek word “μουσική {arts of the Muses}” can include dance. In the context of this story, Hippocleides’s solo dancing clearly distinguishes that dance from what he and the other suitors were doing. Nonetheless, he and the other suitors may have been performing group singing and dancing like ancient Greek choruses did.
[6] For the translation of τοῖσι σκέλεσι ἐχειρονόμησε, I’ve drawn on the learned philological analysis of Olson (2018). Underscoring the importance of dance in the ancient Greek world, “the inventory of dances precisely recorded in the story is astonishing.” Lavelle (2013) pp. 327-9. On these dances, Kurke (2011) pp. 421-2.
Cleisthenes’ response ostensibly means “you have danced away (aporchêsao) your marriage,” but the hapax aporchêsao also puns significantly on orcheis, ‘testicles’: “You have lost your marriage by displaying your testicles,” possibly even “You have ballsed up your marriage.”
Ogden (1997) p. 117, quoted in Lavelle (2014) p. 329. Lavelle suggested that Hippocleides didn’t actually display his testicles:
While this interpretation is inventive, lively, and even witty, it is oblivious both to representations of Greek hand-stand dancing and what is humanly possible. The only way that Hippokleides could “make hand gestures with his feet” is if he was head-standing faced away from the audience regarding his dancing. … There is certainly a sense of abandon and great impropriety in Hippokleides’ dance, which, as with Douris’ satyr, highlights his buttocks and suggests that the dance has become both satyric and homoerotically suggestive: Hippokleides was apparently advertising for male penetration in the midst of what would have been his own wedding feast!
Id. pp. 330-1. Occurring on a table at a marriage feast, Hippocleides’s dance is best understood as being performed in the round. Irrespective of the primary facing of his upside-down dance-like form of shadow-boxing, his testicles and penis surely were visible to the wedding guests standing around and watching. Moreover, the form of the dance suggests his penis participating in the movement of his lower members.
When eminent and beloved classics professor Mortimer Chambers re-enacted this dance for his class, he was evidently with his (clothed) front facing the audience as he continued to tell the story. See the UCLA Classics Departments online post, “In Memoriam Mortimer Chambers.”
The precise bodily orientation of Hippocleides as he did his dance isn’t important. Lavelle commented:
The impression is of frantic movements and the gesticulations of a man with his legs, buttocks, and genitals exposed above the heads of the wedding guests, flailing away with his bride presumptive present.
Lavelle (2014) p. 329. Whatever the bodily orientation of Hippocleides, that impression is essentially accurate.
[7] For ἀπὸ τούτου μὲν τοῦτο ὀνομάζεται, I’ve used the English translation from Nagy (2015). For detailed philological analysis of the meaning of this phrase, Kazanskaya (2015).
Herodotus probably circulated his Histories about 430 BGC. That’s very close to the date of old Greek comedies that apparently referenced the phrase “Hippocleides doesn’t care! {οὐ φροντὶς Ἱπποκλείδῃ}.”
In his play Wasps {Σφῆκες / Vespae} that was performed at the Lenaea festival in Athens in 422 BGC, Aristophanes included a phrase similar in meaning and context to “Hippocleides doesn’t care! {οὐ φροντὶς Ἱπποκλείδῃ}.” In particular, in response to Myrtia {Αρτοπωλισ} threatening to bring a case against him, Lovecleon {Φιλοκλεων} sarcastically declares:
No! Just listen and see if you think I’m making sense. Once Lasus and Simonides were training rival choruses, and Lasus said, “I couldn’t care less.”
Wasps, vv. 1409-11, ancient Greek text and English translation from Henderson (1998). Henderson noted:
Lasus of Hermione was invited to Athens by the tyrant Hipparchus between 527 and 514, where he may have helped to establish the contests in dithyramb, his poetic specialty. Collections of his witty sayings were still read in Roman times (cf. Athenaeus 8.338).
Id. The precedential relationship between these two “don’t care” references isn’t clear. The extensive analysis of Kazanskaya (2015) doesn’t consider this reference in Aristophanes’s Wasps.
The Athenian Hermippus, “a comic poet of the generation previous to Aristophanes,” referred to “Hippocleides doesn’t care {οὐ φροντὶς Ἱπποκλείδῃ}” in his comedy Demes-men {Δημοται}. Fragment 16 in Storey (2011) pp. 288-9. The specific nature of the reference to οὐ φροντὶς Ἱπποκλείδῃ in Hermippus’s isn’t clear. Kazanskaya (2015). Hermippus’s Δημοται may have been performed before Herodotus’s Histories had been widely circulated.
The phrase “Hippocleides doesn’t care” is quoted in much later literature. About 100 GC in his essay On the Malice of Herodotus {Περι Τησ Ηροδοτου Κακοηθειασ / De Herodoti malignitate}, Plutarch wrote:
It looks to me as though, like Hippocleides standing on his head on the table and waving his legs in the air, Herodotus would “dance away the truth” and say: “Herodotus doesn’t care.”
Plutarch, Περι Τησ Ηροδοτου Κακοηθειασ 867B, ancient Greek text and English translation from Pearson & Sandbach (1965) pp. 86-7. On Plutarch’s view of Herodotus, Ford (2016).
Other writers quoted the saying consistent with its context in Herodotus’s story. Lucian of Samosata writing in the second century GC concluded his “Apology {Απολογια}” for his “The Dependent Scholar / On Salaried Posts in Great Houses {Περὶ τῶν ἐν Μισθῷ συνόντων}” with this saying. Kilburn (1959) pp. 212-3. Pausanias Grammaticus / Atticista in his second-second lexicon referred to this phrase and called it a “proverb {παροιμία}.” Kazanskaya (2015) pp. 34-5. The Roman Emperor Julian / Flavius Claudius Julianus, in an oration he made probably about 362 GC, quoted this saying. Julian, Oration 6, “Emperor Julian to the Uneducated Cynics (Dogs) {Ιουλιανου Αυτοκρατοροσ Εισ Τουσ Απαιδευτουσ Κυνασ}” 182B in Wright (1913) pp. 8-9. The pseudo-Lucian dialogue “The Patriot {Philopatris},” probably written in Byzantium about 969, also ends with this saying, and also explicitly refers to it as a “proverb {παροιμία}.” MacLeod (1967) pp. 464-5. Nonetheless, it may not have been a proverb when Herodotus wrote his Histories. Kazanskaya (2015).
A phrase similar to “Hippocleides doesn’t care” certainly became famous in the U.S. in the twentieth century. In the 1939 film, Gone with the Wind, Rhett Butler (Clark Gable) said to Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh): “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” That film adapted this line from the final chapter (Chapter 63) of Margaret Mitchell’s 1935 novel, Gone with the Wind. Rhett Butler’s words there are more concise: “My dear, I don’t give a damn.”
[8] Nagy (2022) refers to Hippocleides as a “preening aristocrat” and characterizes him as “Sybaritic.” Cf. Agariste’s suitor Smindyrides of Sybaris, analyzed in Kurke (2011) p. 418. Nagy thinks about Herodotus’s story of Hippocleides among the competing suitors of Agariste as a simplistic fable serving as a mirror for princes:
When Hippokleides missed his chance of marrying the daughter of Kleisthenes, tyrant of Sikyon, the marriage that was lost by the Athenian aristocrat Hippokleides was now won by another Athenian aristocrat, Megakles, descended from the lineage of the Alkmaionidai, and we read all about it in the continued narration of Herodotus (6.130.2). And here we come to a most telling detail: as we read further in Herodotus (6.131.1), the son who was born to Agariste—and thus the grandson who was born to Kleisthenes the tyrant—turned out to be Kleisthenes, whom Herodotus himself describes as the originator of Athenian democracy. Also descended from the family of Megakles, as we read still further in Herodotus (6.131.2), was another paragon of democracy, Pericles.
I think, then, that the story of the failed suitor Hippokleides, as retold by Herodotus the historian, is well worth thinking about — even if Hippokleides, who had made a name for himself as a main character in his part of the story, had no inclination to think about it.
Nagy (2022). Nagy thus thinks about the story much as would the tyrant-ruler Cleisthenes. Athenaeus seems to have had a more subtle view:
Damon of Athens was accordingly quite right to say that songs and dances can only be produced when the soul is somehow set in motion. Free, beautiful souls produce songs and dances that resemble them in that respect, and vice versa. The witty remark of Cleosthenes, the tyrant of Sicyon, thus shows that he had an educated intellect. It is said that when he saw one of his daughters’ suitors — specifically Hippocleides of Athens — doing a vulgar dance, Cleosthenes commented that this man had danced away his marriage, since he thought that his soul most likely matched his actions. For grace and dignity in how a person dances and carries himself are in fact attractive, whereas clumsiness and low-class behavior are embarrassing.
Athenaeus, The Learned Banqueters {Deipnosophistae} 14.628cd, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified insubstantially) from Olson (2010). Yonge’s translation (1854) is also available online. Many thoughtful readers would recognize the unwritten but well-known punchline to Athenaeus’s near-parody of wooden thinking: “Hippocleides doesn’t care {οὐ φροντὶς Ἱπποκλείδῃ}.”
Other scholars have interpreted Herodotus’s story of Hippocleides among the competing suitors of Agariste with an appropriate sense of social justice. Kurke declared:
We might imagine Cleisthenes and/or Megacles and their descendants attempting to aggrandize themselves by casting the narrative of this dynastic marriage alliance in terms that imitate epic wooing scenes and other forms of high poetic narrative. But against this attempt (if it was made), popular tradition — or Herodotus himself — responds by recasting the tale as fable, thereby valorizing and commemorating instead the irreverent Hippoclides. … here, low fable relentlessly demystifies and explodes a tyrant’s epic pretensions. … in Herodotus’s farcical version, Hippoclides is the hero, the character we admire and identify with, in his independence and aplomb in the face of self-important tyrannic authority (while we might say that both Cleisthenes and the hapless Megacles are the butts of this joke).
Cleisthenes rejects and represses the somatic creativity of Hippocleides. But the latter’s famous rejoinder, “Hippocleides doesn’t care” (Οὐ φροντὶς Ἱπποκλείδῃ, 6.129), exuberantly affirms his personal and political autonomy. Hippocleides does not care about the potential consequences of male solo dance – by choreographing and performing his own idiosyncratic dance, he has already succeeded in undermining Cleisthenes’ apparent authority over the bodies of suitors and subjects alike.
Olsen (2016) pp. 166-7. The elite moralist Plutarch in maligning Herodotus not surprisingly figured Herodotus as Hippocleides.
[images] (1) Ancient Greek satyr dancing upside-down and being approached on the backside by another satyr with an erect penis and hand extended in a gesture of admiration. Painting about 490 BGC by Douris on red-figured psykter (wine-cooler). Made in Attica (Greece). Preserved as museum # 1868,0606.7 in the British Museum. (2) Ancient Greek woman dancer / tumbler upside-down in front of a table and behind a stool. Above her are beads and two tympana (drums), instruments associated with dancing. Painted about 340-330 BGC by the Foundling Painter on a red-figured hydria (water jar). Made in Campania, Italy. Preserved as museum # 1814,0704.566 in the British Museum. For other ancient Greek paintings suggesting upside-down dancing, Lavelle (2014) p. 330. (3) Rhett Butler (Clark Gable) telling Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh) that he doesn’t give a damn in the 1939 film, Gone with the Wind. Via YouTube.
Kilburn, K., ed. and trans. 1959. Lucian. How to Write History. The Dipsads. Saturnalia. Herodotus or Aetion. Zeuxis or Antiochus. A Slip of the Tongue in Greeting. Apology for the “Salaried Posts in Great Houses.” Harmonides. A Conversation with Hesiod. The Scythian or The Consul. Hermotimus or Concerning the Sects. To One Who Said “You’re a Prometheus in Words.” The Ship or The Wishes. Loeb Classical Library 430. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Levaniouk, Olga. 2022. “Seeking Agariste.” Pp. 147-165 in Menelaos Christopoulos, Athina Papachrysostomou, and Andrea P. Antonopoulos, eds. Myth and History: Close Encounters. MythosEikonPoiesis 14. Berlin: De Gruyter.
MacLeod, M. D., ed. and trans. 1967. Lucian. Soloecista. Lucius or The Ass. Amores. Halcyon. Demosthenes. Podagra. Ocypus. Cyniscus. Philopatris. Charidemus. Nero. Loeb Classical Library 432. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Most, Glenn W., ed,. and trans. 2018. Hesiod. The Shield. Catalogue of Women. Other Fragments. Loeb Classical Library 503. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2018.
Pearson, Lionel and F. H. Sandbach, ed. and trans. 1965. Plutarch. Moralia, Volume XI: On the Malice of Herodotus. Causes of Natural Phenomena. Loeb Classical Library 426. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Storey, Ian C., ed. and trans. 2011. Fragments of Old Comedy, Volume II: Diopeithes to Pherecrates. Loeb Classical Library 514. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2011.
Wright, Wilmer C., ed. and trans. 1913. Julian. Orations 6-8. Letters to Themistius, To the Senate and People of Athens, To a Priest. The Caesars. Misopogon. Loeb Classical Library 29. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
According to Plato’s Laws, men ages thirty to sixty should sing and dance for Dionysus, an ancient Greek god of festivity and fecundity. To help old men overcome the stiffness of age and performance anxiety, the Laws allows old men to drink much wine:
When a man has matured to forty years of age, he may join in the convivial gatherings and invoke Dionysus above all other gods. He may invite Dionysus’s presence at the rite, which is also the recreation of the elders, by which Dionysus bestowed on humans wine as a medicine potent against the bodily distortions of old age. We might thereby renew our youth. Through forgetfulness of care, the temper of our souls might lose its hardness and become softer and more ductile, just as does iron when it has been forged in fire. Will not this softer disposition primarily make each person more willing and less ashamed to dance and sing chants and incantations, as we have often called them, in the presence of a small number of close friends, not before a large crowd of strangers?
Defending the consul-designate Lucius Licinius Murena against the charge of electoral bribery, Cicero about the year 63 BGC declared that the respectable Murena was not associated with the sort of circumstances in which an old man would dance:
No sober man would dance, except perhaps if he’s insane, not even dance in solitude, nor at a restrained and respectable banquet.
{ Nemo enim fere saltat sobrius, nisi forte insanit, neque in solitudine neque in convivio moderato atque honesto. }[2]
Cicero might have been alluding to Plato’s idea of wine prompting old to men to dance. In any case, Cicero surely was exaggerating for rhetorical effect. In ancient Greek and Roman cultures, men danced. Even old men danced.
Old men dancing indicated a well-ordered cosmos in ancient Greek and Roman culture. In traditional Roman religion, a religious ritual, once begun, must be completed or dire effects would ensue. A story circulating in Rome no later than about two millennia ago recounts the heroic dancing of an old man:
When the circus games for Apollo were being celebrated, it was reported that Hannibal was attacking the city near the Colline Gate. All the men grabbed their weapons and ran there. Later, when they returned and were afraid about the broken propitiatory sacrifice, they found a certain old man dancing in the circus. When asked, he told them that he had not stopped dancing. So is said the proverb: “All is well in heaven and on earth — the old man is dancing.”
{ cum ludi circenses Apollini celebrarentur et Hannibal nuntiatus esset circa portam Collinam urbi ingruere, omnes raptis armis concurrerunt. reversi postea cum piaculum formidarent, invenerunt saltantem in circo senem quendam. qui cum interrogatus dixisset se non interrupisse saltationem, dictum est hoc proverbium “salva res est, saltat senex.” }[3]
A form of the proverb “all is well in heaven and on earth — the old man is dancing {salva res est, saltat senex}” apparent was known in classical Athens. In his play Peace {Εἰρήνη / Pax}, the comic playwright Aristophanes has a domestic slave announce to his master: “The servant girl has had a bath, and all is well with her buttocks {ἡ παῖς λέλουται καὶ τὰ τῆς πυγῆς καλά}.”[4] That’s probably a lewd parody of the proverb about an old man dancing. In Sophocles’s tragedy Oedipus the King / Oedipus Tyrannus {Οἰδίπους Τύραννος}, a chorus of old men lament lack of punishment for humans who violate divine law. They collectively declare:
For if such practices are respected, why should I continue dancing?
[1] Plato, Laws {Νόμοι} 666B-C (Book 2), ancient Greek Text and English translation (modified slightly) from Bury (1926). See also Νόμοι 665B. Subsequent quotes from Plato’s Laws are similarly sourced. On the mistake of narrowly interpreting in Plato poetry, singing, and music not to include dance, Scott (2023).
In Plato’s hypothetical city Magnesia, men older than sixty, called “myth-tellers {μυθολόγοι},” participate in a Nocturnal Council and chant didactic myths. Νόμοι 951D, 961B–962C. Alcohol, dance, and poetry were foundations of ancient Greek society. Murray (2013) p. 120.
Plato regarded old men as inferior to young men in dancing. The Athenian stranger declares:
Now while our young men are fitted for actually dancing themselves, don’t we regard as suitable for us elders to spend our time looking upon them and taking pleasure in their sport and merry-making, now that our former nimbleness is leaving us? And our yearning regret for this causes us to set up such dance contests for those who are best able to awaken us to youth through recollection.
Plato, Νόμοι 967D, ancient Greek text from Bury (1926), English translation (modified slightly) from Yu (2021) p. 618. While old men dance in honor of Dionysus, young men dance in honor of Apollo Paian, an ancient Greek god associated with good order and beauty.
Plato associates old men with infants. Old men experience a “second childhood {ὁ γέρων δὶς παῖς γίγνοιτ’ ἄν}.” Νόμοι 646A. Neither old men nor infants can control well their bodies, and hence both old men and infants honor the disorderly god Dionysus. On the ideological demographics of dance in Plato’s Νόμοι, Yu (2021).
[2] Cicero, For Murena {Pro Murena} 6.13, Latin text from Clark (1909), my English translation. With Cicero’s help, Lucius Licinius Murena was acquitted of electoral bribery and became Consul of the Roman Republic (the highest elected public office) in 62 BGC. On Cicero’s “rhetorical exaggeration” in this passage, Schlapbach (2022) p. 12.
[3] Servius the Grammarian (also questionably called Maurus Servius Honoratus), Commentary on the Aeneid of Vergil {In Vergilii Aeneidem Commentarii} 8.110, Latin text from Thilo (1881-1902), my English translation. The phrase “salva res est” could be translated as “all is well” or “everything is fine.” However, that simple translation obscures the contextual religious significance of the word “salvus” in “salva res est, saltat senex.” Servius elsewhere provides a slightly different version:
It is indeed known that it was customary to celebrate games after a wrong had been committed. When the Romans were laboring to appease the anger of the mother goddess, neither sacrifices nor games could please her. A certain old man danced at the established circus games. That was the sole cause of appeasing the goddess. Hence originated the proverb: “All is properly ordered — the old man is dancing.”
{ sciendum sane moris fuisse, ut piaculo commisso ludi celebrarentur: nam cum Romani iracundia matris deum laborarent et eam nec sacrificiis nec ludis placare possent, quidam senex statutis ludis circensibus saltavit, quae sola fuit causa placationis: unde et natum proverbium est “omnia secunda, saltat senex.” }
Servius, In Vergilii Aeneidem Commentarii 3.279, sourced as previously. In the version, “All is properly ordered — the old man is dancing {omnia secunda, saltat senex},” the religious significance is more obscure.
The Roman grammarian Sextus Pompeius Festus compiled in the middle of the second century GC an epitome of Verrius Flaccus’s Latin dictionary About the Meaning of Words {De verborum significatu}. Verrius Flaccus himself worked under the Roman Emperors Augustus and Tiberius at the start of the first millennium GC. Festus’s dictionary testifies to earlier existence of the proverb:
“All is well in heaven and earth — the old man is dancing.” The reason why the Parasites of Apollo recite this formula on the stage was given by Verrius in the fifth book of those entries which begin with the letter P. He said it was because, in the consulship of C. Sulpicius and C. Fulvius, while M. Calpurnius Piso as praetor urbanus was celebrating the games, those present suddenly ran out to arms on the news of the enemy’s approach. They returned to the theater victorious. They worried that the interruption of the games might require atonement and that the games would have to be repeated. However, they found there the freedman C. Pomponius, a mime of great age, who was dancing to the flute. And so this remark was uttered in delight that the ritual had not been interrupted, and it is still commonly used today.
But in this book he quotes the words of Sinnius Capito, in which he says that those games of Apollo were celebrated in the consulship of Claudius and Fulvius. He says the games were established in accordance with the instructions of the Sibylline books and the prophecy of the seer Marcius. There is no mention of any Pomponius. Ridiculously enough, he gives here the reason for the title “Parasites of Apollo,” although in the other place he had passed over it. He says that they are so called, because C. Volumnius, the man who danced to the flute, was a “second-part actor” — an actor who in almost all mimes plays the role of a parasite. I have not recorded this inconsistency in our Verrius without blushing.
{ “Salva res [est dum cantat] senex,” quare parasiti Apollonis in scaena dictitent, causam Verrius in lib. V, quorum prima est p littera, reddidit, quod C. Sulpicio, C. Fulvio cos., M. Calpurnio Pisone praetore urb. faciente ludos, subito ad arma exierint, nuntiatio adventus hostium, victoresque in theatrum redierint solliciti, ne intermissi religionem adferrent, instaurati qui essent: inventum esse ibi C. Pomponium, libertinum mimum magno natu, qui ad tibicinem saltaret. Itaque gaudio non interruptae religionis editam vocem nunc quoque celebrari.
At in hoc libro refert Sinni Capitonis verba, quibus eos ludos Apollinares Claudio et Fulvio cos. factos dicit ex libris Sibyllinis et vaticinio Marci vatis institutos, nec nominatur ullus Pomponius. Ridiculeque de ipsa appellatione parasitorum Apollinis hic causam reddit, cum in eo praeterisset. Ait enim ita appellari, quod C. Volumnius, qui ad tibicinem saltarit, secundarum partium fuerit, qui fere omnibus mimis parasitus inducatur. Quam inconstantiam Verrii nostri non sine rubore rettuli. }
Sextus Pompeius Festus, About the Meaning of Words {De verborum significatu}, Letter S, entry “Salva res [est dum cantat] senex,” Latin text (slightly simplified editorial presentation) from Lindsay (1913), English translation (modified slightly) from Reynolds (1943) pp. 56-7.
These etymologies of the proverb “salva res est, saltat senex” are “self-evidently unhistorical.” Slater (2001) p. 118. Similarly, Reynolds (1943). They do, however, attest to the importance and influence of the proverb and old men dancing.
[4] Aristophanes, Peace {Εἰρήνη / Pax} v. 868, ancient Greek text from Henderson (1998), my English translation, benefiting from that of id. On this verse parodying an ancient Greek form of the proverb “salva res est, saltat senex,” Slater (2001) p. 119.
The context in Aristophanes’s Εἰρήνη is clearly sexual. The domestic slave further announces:
The cake’s baked, the sesame buns are being rolled into shape, and everything else is done. All that we need is the cock!
According to a scholion to Aristophanes’s Birds {Ὄρνιθες / Aves} v. 988, the late fifth-century BGC Attic comic playwright Phrynichus wrote in his play Chronos {Κρονοσ}: “The man dances in the chorus and the matters of the gods are well {ἀνὴρ χορεύει καὶ τὰ τοῦ θεοῦ καλά}.” Ancient Greek text and English translation (modified) from Storey (2011). For analysis, Slater (2001) pp. 118-9.
Slater further suggests as related to the proverb “salva res est, saltat senex” a verse from Aristophanes’s Wealth {Πλοῦτος / Plutus}. That verse describes old men happily escorting the god Wealth into Athens:
old men’s shoes beat out a good rhythm for the parade
{ ἐμβὰς γερόντων εὐρύθμοις προβήμασιν }
Πλοῦτος v. 759, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified slightly) from Henderson (2002). The old men here are more likely marching than dancing. Nooter (2023) p. 66. Cf. Slater (2001) p. 120, n. 34. Marching and dancing are closely related historically.
[6] Anacreonta 39.3-5, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified slightly) from Campbell (1988). The first two verses of this lyric are:
I love a pleasant old man, I love a young dancer.
{ φιλῶ γέροντα τερπνόν, φιλῶ νέον χορευτάν· }
Anacreonta 39.1-2, sourced as previously. This poem was once attributed to Anacreon, an eminent Greek lyric poet who lived in the sixth century BGC. Anacreon is know for erotic, sympotic lyrics. The Anacreonta are now generally thought to have been written about the beginning of the first millennium GC.
[7] In the joyful return of the remnant of Israel to Zion, old men dance with both young men and young women: “Then the young women shall rejoice in the dance, and both old and young men together { אָז תִּשְׂמַח בְּתוּלָה בְּמָחוֹל וּבַחֻרִים וּזְקֵנִים יַחְדָּו }.” Jeremiah 31:13, via Blue Letter Bible. Disparagement of old men has tended to be projected inappropriately onto biblical history.
[images] (1) Dance procession in honor of Dionysus. From the left, the figures are Dionysus, with panther, skin, and thyrsus (giant fennel staff); a satyr playing the aulos (dual pipes); and a woman, probably a maenad (female follower of Dionysus), playing a tambourine. Roman marble relief made about 100 GC and found in Herculaneum. Preserved as inv. 6726 in Museo Archeologico Nazionale (Napoli, Italy). Source image via Wikimedia Commons. The British Museum holds a similar relief (item 1805,0703.128) excavated at the Via Appia of ancient Rome. A second-century marble sarcophagus held in the Kelsey Museum of Archaeology Art & Artifact Collection, University of Michigan, is decorated with a relief similarly showing a Dionysian / Bacchic procession (item id. 1981.03.0001). (2) Old man dancing in honor of the goddess of love Venus. Illustration for the month of April. Apparently from the Chronograph of 354 / Calendar of Filocalus. Inked pen drawing made by Lucas Cranach in Vienna about 1500 on folio 5v of manuscript preserved as Vindobonensis MS. 3416, Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna. Here’s an alternate copy. On this ancient calendar, Salzman (1991). The calendar is just one part of the Chronograph of 354. On the whole manuscript and its complex history of transmission, Burgess (2012).
Campbell, David A., ed and trans. 1988. Greek Lyric, Volume II: Anacreon, Anacreontea, Choral Lyric from Olympus to Alcman. Loeb Classical Library 143. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Lloyd-Jones, Hugh, ed. and trans. 1994. Sophocles. Ajax. Electra. Oedipus Tyrannus. Loeb Classical Library 20. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Murray, Oswyn. 2013. “The chorus of Dionysus: alcohol and old age in the Laws.” Chapter 5 (pp. 109–22) in Anastasia-Erasmia Peponi, ed. Performance and Culture in Plato’s Laws. Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press.
Nooter, Sarah. 2023. Greek Poetry in the Age of Ephemerality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Reynolds, R. W. 1943. “Verrius Flaccus and the Early Mime at Rome.” Hermathena. 61: 56–62.
Salzman, Michele Renee. 1991. On Roman Time: The Codex-Calendar of 354 and the Rhythms of Urban Life in Late Antiquity. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.
Scott, Gregory L. 2023. Dance Theory of Plato and Aristotle: 3 Essays. New York, NY: ExistencePS Press.
Slater, William J. 2001. “Gnomology and Criticism.” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies. 41: 99–121.
Storey, Ian C., ed. and trans. 2011. Fragments of Old Comedy, Volume III: Philonicus to Xenophon. Adespota. Loeb Classical Library 515. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Ancient Greek poetry associated men’s physical vitality in dancing with pleasures of love, banqueting, singing, and bodily comfort such as warm baths and clean clothes. Men’s physical vitality, however, also implies men’s instrumental value in violence against men. In ancient Greek poetry, men dancing to express and provide pleasure shows a communal alternative to valuing men as warriors. Men dancing for pleasure indicates men valued intrinsically as human beings.
Well I myself know how to fight and kill men in battle. I know well how to turn to the right, how to turn to the left the ox-hide seasoned into a sturdy shield for me to wield in the fight. I know how to charge into clamorous, clashing chariots led by plunging horses. I know in close fight how to tread the measure of the furious war god Ares.
After describing generally what might be called dancing in battle, Hector explicitly referred to a war dance of Ares. Ancient warfare required from men agility like that in dancing. In response to the Greek warrior Meriones ducking under Aeneas’s flying spear, Aeneas taunted him:
Meriones, although you’re also a dancer, my spear would have made you stop forever, if only I could have hit you.
In taunting Meriones for being a dancer as well as a warrior, Aeneas shows how readily men could be disparaged for dancing.
Dancing has been a figure for ridiculing men’s bodily activity in war and sex. Writing about a millennium after the Iliad referred to the war dance of Ares, the eminent satirist Lucian of Samosata imagined the history of the Roman war dance:
Rightly we should not forget the Roman dance that the best born among Romans, those called Salii, the name of a priesthood, perform in honor of Ares, the most bellicose of the gods. It’s a dance that’s both very majestic and very sacred. Moreover, a Bithynian story not very different from those current in Italy tells that Priapus, a warlike deity, one of the Titans, I suppose, or one of the Idaean Dactyls who made a business of giving lessons in fencing, had Ares put into his charge by Hera. This occurred while Ares was still a boy, although he was hard-muscled and immoderately virile. Priapus didn’t teach Ares how to handle weapons until he had made him a perfect dancer. Indeed, Priapus even got a pension from Hera for this. He was assigned to receive from Ares in perpetuity a tenth of all the spoils that accrued to Ares through war.
According to other ancient sources, Salii, chosen from among aristocratic Roman young men, processed around Rome every March. They sang and danced while dressed as archaic Roman warriors. Priapus, in contrast, was a crude, rustic, minor divinity who adorned personal gardens and came to represent disparagement of men’s sexuality. In associating the starkly status-contrasting Salii priests with Priapus in an utterly implausible myth, Lucian ridiculed men’s bodily activity in war and sex.
Both dancers and warriors tended to be regarded as not highly intelligent. In the Iliad, the Trojan military leader Polydamas was wise enough to advise the Trojans to return Helen to the Greeks. Polydamas chided his friend the eminent Trojan warrior Hector:
Just because the god granted that you excel in deeds of war, you also wish to excel in counsel by knowing more than others. But there’s no way you can get everything all to yourself. The god Zeus grants that one man excel in deeds of war, and another in dancing, and another in playing the lyre and singing. And for yet another man, far-seeing Zeus places in his breast thought, genuine thought, and many men benefit from such a man. That man saves many of them, and he himself has the greatest powers of understanding.
Polydamas regarded himself as thoughtful. He prudently advised that the Trojans pull back from a battle going badly for them. The fierce Hector, in contrast, wanted to keep fighting. Polydamas aligned the thoughtlessness of Hector the determined warrior with the thoughtlessness of dancers, musicians, and singers. Polydamas thus implicitly contrasted the bodily activity of warriors, dancers, musicians, and singers with activity of the mind.
Of all things there is satiety — of sleep and sex and sweet celebration and blameless dancing. A man certainly hopes to have these desires sated, more so than desire for war. The Trojans, however, continually seek battle.
Ancient Greek men desired war as well as sleep, sex, celebrating, and dancing. War and dancing were communal activities with normal limits such as the bounds implicit in “blameless dancing {ἀμύμων ὀρχηθμός}.”[6] In contrast to other desired activities such as sex and dancing, a man would not hope to have so much war that he no longer desired war. No longer desiring war implies defeat, and perhaps even death. Menelaus blamed the Trojans for having unlimited desire for war. Trojan men sought war to their deaths. Put differently, Trojan men didn’t regard their lives as having intrinsic value.
For most men in archaic Greece, war wasn’t pleasurable like dancing. With Hector leading the Trojan forces in an attempt to burn the Argive ships, the Argive leader Ajax implored his men:
Shame, you Argives! Now decides whether we perish or will be saved by beating back ruin from our ships. Do you expect, if our ships fall to gleaming-helmeted Hector, you each will go by foot to the land of your fathers? Do you not hear the Trojan army urged on by Hector, raging to set fire to our ships? Surely he invites you not to a dance, but to battle!
Battle entails risk of grievous suffering and death, but it wards off peril. Dancing, in contrast, involves no threat to life and implicitly brings forth pleasure. Hector’s gleaming helmet and the associated Greek foot movement ironically evoke men dancing pleasurably.[8] Apart from necessity, most men in ancient Greece evidently preferred pleasurable dance to battle.
In Phaeacia in the Odyssey, just as princess Nausicaa offers Odysseus an alternative to his wife Penelope, King Alcinous presents excellence in dancing as an alternative to glory in war and combative sports. Alcinous was willing to have his men take Odysseus home by sea, however far Odysseus’s home was. Alcinous bragged that his men had carried the wise demigod Rhadamanthys to the island Euboea, the farthest place they knew, in a single day “without toil {ἄτερ καμάτοιο}.” Alcinous then told Odysseus:
You too will know for yourself and understand that the best in churning through the salty sea are my ships and my young men.
Speed and endurance in rowing and sailing were important in naval voyages and naval battles. At the subsequent send-off banquet for Odysseus, Alcinous declared:
Hear me, Phaeacian leaders and counselors. Already we’ve satisfied our hearts with the shared feast and with the lyre, companion to a bounteous feast. Now let’s go out and compete in all sorts of contests, so that this stranger can tell his friends, when he returns home, how far we surpass other men in boxing, wrestling, jumping, and running.
Boxing and wrestling are fighting arts. Jumping and running are activities of men in war. The Phaeacians engaged in such martial contests at the send-off banquet for Odysseus.
Odysseus prompted Alcinous to redirect his claim about Phaeacian excellence. Alcinous’s son, the boxing champion Laodama, urged Odysseus to participate in the contests. Odysseus at first declined, mentioning the hard struggles he had already endured. The wrestling champion Halius, who was another of Alcinous’s sons, then taunted Odysseus for being a merchant rather than a “combatant {ἀθλητήρ}.” Halius was ignorant of Odysseus’s long, arduous fighting in the Trojan War. His ignorant taunt nonetheless aroused Odysseus’s fighting spirit. Odysseus told him:
You’ve aroused the spirit in my chest by speaking improperly. I’m not unknowing of contests, as you say. To the contrary, I think I used to be among the best, as long as I trusted in my youthful vigor and my hands. But now I’m bound by suffering and pains, for I’ve endured much, slicing through wars among men and grievous waves. Even so, though I’ve suffered much, I’ll compete in the contests, for your words bite at my heart. You’ve incited me with your speech.
The contests, though games, were struggles like war. Odysseus picked up a discus and threw it much farther than any Phaeacian had. He then challenged any Phaeacian man to a contest “in boxing, wrestling, or even running {ἢ πὺξ ἠὲ πάλῃ ἢ καὶ ποσίν}”:
Indeed, I’m not bad in all — in any contests among men. I know well how to handle a polished bow. Always I’d be first to shoot and strike a man in the throng of enemy men, even though many comrades stood close by and were shooting at the men. Philoctetes alone surpassed me with the bow in the Trojan kingdom where we Achaeans fought. I declare that I’m the best by far of all the others, of the mortals who now live on earth and eat bread.
Odysseus convincingly established his identity as an eminent warrior. He had the physical skills that an eminent warrior needed. He also showed his combative, courageous spirit.
King Alcinous quickly pivoted to boasting of the Phaeacians’ skills in dancing and singing. He tempered his previous claim about the Phaeacians fighting skills and instead indicated their love for pleasurable activities:
Indeed, we’re not flawless boxers or wrestlers, but we run swiftly by foot and are the best seamen. Always beloved to us are dinner, the lyre, and dances, fresh clothes, hot baths, and beds. But come, you who are the best Phaeacian dancers, beat upon the floor, so the stranger can tell his loved ones upon his return home how much we surpass others in sailing, running, dancing, and singing.
Sailing and running, which are less aggressively martial than boxing and wrestling, matter less than dancing and singing in King Alcinous’s new boast. The context of Alcinous’s appeal is pleasurable activities. Rather than beating upon other men, Phaeacian men excel in beating upon the dance floor:
The herald came near, bringing the clear-toned lyre to Demodocus, who then went into their midst. Around him stood men in youth’s prime, deities experienced in dancing. They beat the divinely inspired dance with their feet. Odysseus beheld with wonder the gleaming of their feet and marveled in his heart.
Odysseus didn’t respond with competitive self-assertion to this display. With a receptive heart, he appreciated the dancing of these beautiful men — “men in youth’s prime {κοῦροι πρωθῆβαι}.” Demodocus subsequently sang about the love of Ares and Aphrodite.[13] Odysseus similarly relished the singer’s performance. Then came more dancing:
Alcinous urged Halius and Laodamas to dance individually, since no one could rival them. They took into their hands a beautiful ball, glittering purple, which skilled Polybus had made for them. One of them, bending far backwards, would throw it toward the shadowy clouds, and leaping high above the earth, the other would easily catch it before his feet returned to the ground. After they had tried it with the ball straight upwards, they danced upon the earth that feeds many, interchanging positions rapidly as other young men standing throughout the contest place beat time. A great clamor arose.
This dance occurred in the contest arena and involved the champion wrestler Halius and the champion boxer Laodamas. Nonetheless, it wasn’t a contest, but a performance. Despite being a boxer, Laodamas was the most beautiful of the Phaeacian men.[14] Odysseus again responded with wondrous appreciation:
Godlike Odysseus indeed called out to Alcinous, “Your majesty Alcinous, most exalted above all men, you boasted that your dancers are the best, and now your words have been fulfilled. Wonder holds me as I watch them.”
In the ancient Greek world, violence against men was socially constructed as a means for men to gain approbation — “glory {κλέος}.” Men couldn’t become heroes on the dance floor. However, the warrior-hero Odysseus in Phaeacia recognized a different form of manly excellence. In dancing, men could create amazed appreciation for their bodies in exquisite motion. These men weren’t serving some instrumental need. They were amazing in themselves, amazing in their very being. Like Socrates’s “city of sows {ὑῶν πόλις},” Phaeacia with its amazing men-dancers and its lovely, courageous princess Nausicaa offered an alternative to glorifying violence against men.[15]
In the Iliad, the shield of Achilles tells the tale of two cities. Appreciating men dancing comes first in characterizing the first city:
In one of the cities were weddings and feasts. With blazing torches brides were led from their chambers throughout the city, and much wedding song arose. Young men were whirling in dance. Among them sounded flutes and lyres. The women standing, each on her own threshold, marveled at them.
Persons in this city resolved their disputes with words spoken before wise judges. The other city, besieged like Troy, was the site of horrific violence against men:
That city’s army set their battle array beside the riverbanks and fought. The two armies were striking one another with bronze-tipped spears. Strife and Tumult entered among them, and destructive Fate, too. It grasped one living man with a new wound and another one unhurt, and it dragged a dead man by his feet through the carnage. The clothing upon Fate’s shoulders was red with men’s blood. Strife, Tumult, and Fate clashed like living men and fought with each other, and dragged away corpses of men that others had killed.
In one city was the best of times; in the other city, the worst of times. Appreciating men intrinsically in dance or instrumentally in war represent ancient alternatives in valuing men.
The problem of men dancing has been socially constructed in women-dominated culture as a concern about effeminacy or unmanliness. In the second century, Lucian of Samosata satirized such concern in a sophisticated dialogue. The dialogue’s primary character, the rhetorician Lycinus, responds to his counterpart Crato’s indictment against “dance and all pertaining to dance itself {ὄρχησις τε καὶ αὐτός ὀρχηστικός}.” According to Crato, dance is “vulgar and effeminate {φαῦλος καὶ γυναικεῖος}.” Crato declares:
Lycinus, anyone who is a man at all, moreover a life-long friend of letters and moderately conversant with philosophy — can he abandon his interest in all that is better and his association with the ancients to sit enthralled by the flute while watching a womanly man in soft clothing, a man making himself delicate in singing licentious songs and imitating love-sick little women? … May I never reach a mature age if I ever endure anything of that kind, as long as my legs are hairy and my beard unplucked!
That’s a humorous caricature of the ancient Greek social construction of masculinity: men honor reason and historical learning, have hard muscles, endure rough clothing, and are unemotional and hairy. Young men dancing lack such a self-presentation.
Men dancing pleasurably implicates a more fundamental aspect of the social construction of masculinity. Crato condemns dance audiences for “crying out very shameful praises to a noxious man bending himself downward for nothing necessary {ἐπαίνους ἀπρεπεστάτους ἐπιβοῶντα ὀλέθρῳ τινὶ ἀνθρώπῳ ἐς οὐδὲν δέον κατακλωμένῳ}.” Crato regards men’s bodily movement as worthy only if instrumental. Moreover, Crato understands men’s instrumental use of their bodies to be obligatory. Lycinus, in contrast, declares:
It’s so much more delightful to see young men dancing than to see them boxing, awash with blood, or wrestling in the dust. Indeed, dance often presents young men in a way less risky to them and also more shapely and pleasurable.
The gender trouble with men dancing centers on institutionalized violence against men. In the Iliad, the shield of the preeminent warrior Achilles depicts men and women dancing on a dance floor like that in the grand, archaic court at Minoan Knossos:
And the very famous, bent-limbed one embellished it with a dance floor, like that which once in wide Knossos Daedalus built for lovely haired Ariadne. Young men were dancing on it, and young women, sought with gifts of oxen. They were holding each other’s hands at the wrists. The young women wore light linen robes, and the men, tunics fine-spun and shining softly with olive oil. The young women had beautiful crowns, and the young men, short golden swords that hung from silver baldrics. At times they would run very smoothly on their skilled feet, as when a potter, crouching, tries his wheel, holding it close in his hands, to see if it will run straight. At other times they ran in rows moving toward each other. And around the lovely chorus stood a great multitude, delighting in it. Among them, two tumblers, leading the song and dance, whirled in the middle.
This scene depicts the ancient past relative to the Iliad, which itself was composed about 2700 years ago. The god Hephaestus, a blacksmith, made this scene and the whole shield of Achilles. He is called the “very famous, bent-limbed one {περικλυτὸς ἀμφιγυήεις}.” He was famous in part for being a cuckold: his wife Aphrodite repeatedly had sex with the war god Ares. Hephaestus being bent-limbed perhaps hints at one reason Aphrodite turned elsewhere for sex. As the ancients knew well, men’s impotence makes for epic disaster. Nonetheless, the classical circle of castration and cuckolding was deeply embedded in ancient Greek society, just as it is in many societies today.
The dance scene as Knossos shows the gender trouble in men dancing. The young women and young men are partners in dance. The women, however, have intrinsic value. They dance on a dance floor like the one that the man Daedalus built for the woman Ariadne. Moreover, to marry one of the women, a man must give oxen. A woman need not give oxen to marry a man. The women wear “crowns {στέφᾰνοι},” a term associated with a conqueror’s wreath, and more generally, a prize or laurel. The men, in contrast, carry “short swords {μάχαιραι}” — weapons associated with violence against men, and also figures brutalizing men’s penises. In short, the women are grand prizes, and the men are brutal tools of merely instrumental value. Onlookers delight in seeing both women and men dance. The men’s dancing, however, isn’t enough to overcome the gender oppression encoded in their attire and in how they are valued.
While men surely have expressed and created pleasure with their dancing throughout history, men dancing pleasurably contradicts men’s instrumental gender position. In ancient Greek cultures, choruses of non-professional men singing and dancing at festivals for gods and cities were a central aspect of communal life. Men and women undoubtedly took pleasure in men’s dancing at these and other occasions such as wedding and banquets.[20] At the same time, men dancing for pleasure tended to be disparaged as effeminate and licentious. That disparagement shows gender ideology seeking to preserve women’s gender privilege as intrinsically valued persons and buttress use of men as social tools for violence against men. Pleasure in men dancing, like the beauty of men’s bodies, cannot be socially acknowledged without undermining men’s instrumental gender position.
[1] Homer, Iliad 7.237-43, ancient Greek text and my English translation, benefiting from those of Murray (1924), Lattimore (1951), and Johnston (2002). “There is nothing else like this in the whole of Homer, despite the typical nature of the warrior’s boast as such.” Kirk (1978) p. 28. Subsequent quotes from the Iliad are similarly sourced.
In distinguishing war dances from peaceful dances, Plato described a Pyrrhic war dance like Hector’s dance for Ares:
The warlike dance division, being distinct from the peaceful, one may rightly call Pyrrhic. It represents modes of eluding all kinds of blows and shots by swerving and ducking and side-leaps upward or crouching. It also represents the opposite kinds of motion, which lead to active postures of offense, when it strives to represent the movements involved in shooting with bows or darts, and blows of every description.
Plato, Laws {Νόμοι} 815A (Book 7), ancient Greek Text and English translation (modified slightly) from Bury (1926). Subsequent quotes from Plato’s Laws are similarly sourced. On “Pyrrhic {πυρρίχιος / πυρρίχη}” dance, see Lucian of Samosata, About Dance {De Saltatione / Περὶ Ὀρχήσεως} 9, available in Harmon (1936), and Carvajal (2024).
[2] Iliad 16.617-8. Dancers and warriors in the early Roman Empire had similar physical training. Slater (1994) pp. 131-40.
[3] Lucian of Samosata, About Dance {De Saltatione / Περὶ Ὀρχήσεως} 21, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified) from Harmon (1936). For an alternate English translation, Fowler & Fowler (1905). Costa (2005) regrettable doesn’t include Περὶ Ὀρχήσεως. Early in the twentieth century, some authorities doubted that Lucian composed this work. Robertson (1913) dispelled most doubts. Subsequent quotes from Περὶ Ὀρχήσεως are similarly sourced.
Harmon apparently interpreted this passage as literally descriptive and noted:
This Bithynian myth of Priapus is not recorded elsewhere, but as it is known that Priapus was held in high honour there, it may well be that he was associated with Ares and that armed dances played a part in the cult.
Harmon (1936) p. 235, note 1. Since Lucian is a satirical writer, how to interpret passages in his work might not be obvious. But it in this case, it seems to me clear that Lucian is engaged in outrageous satire.
Lucian seems to have been attempting to do what pantomime dancers themselves were unable to do: establish pantomime as a worthy art in the eyes of the intellectual elite. In the eastern Roman Empire of Lucian’s time, the intellectual elite mainly consisted of verbally sophisticated performers such as Lucian himself. Περὶ Ὀρχήσεως is a sophisticated verbal performance, not a factual account of pantomime dance. Lada-Richards (2007), Schlapbach (2008). The modern development of ballet into an elite art is a historical culmination of Lucian’s endeavor. On the incorporation of ancient pantomime into ballet in eighteenth-century England and France, Lada-Richards (2010a), and more generally, Macintosh’s Oxford bibliography and Toepfer (2019).
The most important ancient literary works concerning dance are Plato, Laws (composed around 367 BGC); Lucian, About Dance (composed mid-second century GC); Aelius Aristides, oration attacking pantomimes (composed mid-second century GC, now lost); and Libanius, Oration 64, Reply to Aristides on Behalf of the Dancers (composed about 361 GC). Aristides seems to have resented the inclusion of pantomime in Greek intellectual and athletic competitions. Bowersock ((2008). On pantomime competitions, Webb (2012). For a translation and study of Libanius’s oration on dance, Molloy (1996). For a massive study of pantomime throughout history, Toepfer (2019). On dancing in late antiquity, Webb (2008).
[4] Iliad 13.727-34. The ancient Greek grammarian and influential Homeric editor Aristarchus of Samothrace rejected Iliad 13.731, “and another in dancing, and another in playing the lyre and singing {ἄλλῳ δ’ ὀρχηστύν, ἐτέρῳ κίθαριν καὶ ἀοιδήν}” as spurious. This verse doesn’t occur in the best ancient manuscripts. Murray (1924) p. 56, note 27. Leaf and Bayfield’s late Victorian Iliad commentary described that verse as a “tasteless interpolation.” Hall (2010) p. 22. However, Lucian in Περὶ Ὀρχήσεως 23 quotes Iliad 13.730-1. For “to another man the lyre and singing {ἐτέρῳ κίθαριν καὶ ἀοιδήν},” Lucian substitutes “delightful song {ἱμερόεσσαν ἀοιδὴν}.” Cf. Odyssey 1.421.
The Iliad’s ancient Greek audience almost surely wouldn’t have regarded as inappropriate Polydamas’s inclusion of dancing and singing as gifts of the gods. Polydamas himself engaged in battle alongside Hector in the Trojan War. Bodily activity and mental activity aren’t necessarily exclusive.
[5] Iliad 13.636-9. In order to entrap and kill Penelope’s suitors, Odysseus in the Odyssey arranges his household as if Penelope is being married. Odyssey 23.142-8. That arrangement features similar pleasures subordinate to violence.
In Iliad 24.2621, the Trojan king Priam disparages some of his sons as being merely “dancers {ὀρχησταί}.” The Trojan prince Paris / Alexander is more extensively figured as a dancer. See, e.g. Iliad 3.390-4. Trojans thus could be both insatiable warriors and dancers. Cf. Hall (2010) p. 19, Ransom (2011) p. 47. The eminent ancient Greek poet Sappho appreciated men as dancers.
[6] Iliad 13.637. This phrase also occurs in Odyssey 23.145 in describing the action of a divine singer: “and he raised among them desire / for sweet song and blameless dancing {ἐν δέ σφισιν ἵμερον ὦρσε / μολπῆς τε γλυκερῆς καὶ ἀμύμονος ὀρχηθμοῖο}.”
Translations have blunted the moral distinction implicit in “blameless dancing {ἀμύμων ὀρχηθμός}.” For example, in Iliad 13.637, consider “incomparable dance” in Harmon (1936), “innocent dance” in Lattimore (1951), and “gorgeous dancing” in Johnston (2002); in Odyssey 23.145, “pleasant dance” in Murray (1919).
Writing in Attic Greek rather than epic Greek, Plato distinguished between “questionable dancing {ἀμφισβητέω ὄρχησις}” and “unquestionable / blameless dancing {ἀναμφισβητέω ὄρχησις}”:
So, in the first place, we must draw a line between questionable dancing and dancing that is above question. All the dancing that is of a Bacchic kind and cultivated by those who indulge in drunken imitations of Fans, Sileni and Satyrs (as they call them), when performing certain rites of expiation and initiation — all this class of dancing cannot easily be defined either as peaceful or warlike, or any one distinct kind. The most correct way of defining it seems to me to be this — to separate it off both from peaceful and warlike dancing, and to pronounce this kind of dancing to be improper for our citizens. Having thus disposed of it and dismissed it, we will now return to the warlike and peaceful types which do unquestionably belong to us.
Plato, Laws 815B-D (Book 7). Plato’s distinction here seems to me to provide the best guide to understanding the meaning of “ἀμύμων ὀρχηθμός.” Plato also distinguished dance propriety by age categories. Yu (2021).
In Plato’s scheme, warlike dancing is also blameless dancing. Menelaus’s distinction between the Trojan’s war desire and blameless desire centers on respect for limits. Menelaus doesn’t praise dancing itself. Cf. Hall (2010) p. 22, and p. 29, note 55.
[7] Iliad 15.502-8.
[8] For analysis of two hexameter passages that “emphasize the flashing, shining, scintillating qualities of dancers in motion,” Kurke (2012) p. 228. One such passage is at the court of Queen Arete and King Alcinous in Odyssey 8.264-5:
the Phaiakian chorus, at the moment that their feet in motion shimmer and glint like metal, are beating out a “divine” or “divinely inspired” dance.
Id. Hector dances in battle with his glinting metal helmet and his feet in rapid motion. Violence against men, however, isn’t dance like that of the Phaeacian men.
[9] Odyssey 7.327-8, ancient Greek text of Murray (1919) via Perseus, and my English translation, benefiting from those of id., Fagles (1996), and Lombardo (2000). Subsequent quotes from the Odyssey are similarly sourced. The subsequent quote above is Odyssey 8.97-103.
Fleeing from Calypso, Odysseus came ashore on the island of Scherie (Phaeacia). The lovely princess Nausicaa took him to the court of her mother, Queen Arete. She questioned him and investigated his suitability to be a husband for her daughter Nausicaa. After a banquet for Odysseus, Queen Arete’s husband Alcinous invited him to participate in contests with the Phaeacian men.
[10] Odyssey 8.178-85. Just before this declaration of his warrior skills, Odysseus called Halius a “reckless man {ἀτάσθαλος ἀνήρ}.” Odysseus then spoke of the gods differing gifts, just as Polydamas had to Hector in Iliad 13.727-34. According to Odysseus, Halius (“Of the Sea {Ἅλιός}”) had received from the gods a beautiful appearance, but a deformed mind. That’s not a characterization that the wrestling champion Halius would welcome.
The subsequent quote above is from Odyssey 8.214-22
[11] Odyssey 8.246-53. Horace disparaged unwise persons like Alcinous’s men:
We are merely numbers, born to consume earth’s fruits, like Penelope’s good-for-nothing suitors, like Alcinous’s young courtiers, unduly concerned to keep sleek skin. Their pride was to sleep until mid-day and lead diligence to rest to the sound of lutes.
{ nos numerus sumus et fruges consumere nati, sponsi Penelopae nebulones, Alcinoique in cute curanda plus aequo operata iuventus, cui pulchrum fuit in medios dormire dies et ad strepitum citharae cessatum ducere curam }
Horace, Epistles 1.2.27-31, Latin text from Fairclough (1926), my English translation, benefiting from that of id.
Alcinous’s boast to Odysseus in Odyssey 8.248 seems to recast Achilles chiding Agamemnon, and Zeus chiding Ares: “Always beloved to you is strife and wars and battles {αἰεὶ γάρ τοι ἔρις τε φίλη πόλεμοί τε μάχαι τε}.” Iliad 1.177 and 5.891. Heubeck, West & Hainsworth (1988) p. 361. Aristarchus of Samothrace rejected these lines in his ancient edition of the Iliad. Murray (1924) p. 26, n. 20. The insightful contrast with Odyssey 8.248 suggests that Iliad 1.177 and 5.891 aren’t spurious.
The Old Babylonian version of the ancient Mesopotamian epic of Enkidu and Gilgamesh includes a passage urging a life with the pleasures that Alcinous described. Gilgamesh, grieving the death of his beloved friend Enkidu, journeys in search of immortality. He meets the alewife Siduri. She advises him:
You, Gilgamesh, let your belly be full. Keep enjoying yourself, day and night. Every day make merry, and dance and play day and night. Let your clothes be clean, and let your head be washed. May you be bathed in water. Gaze on the little one who holds your hand. Let a wife enjoy your repeated embrace!
{ attā gilgāmeš lū mali karaška urrī u mūšī ḫitattu attā ūmišam šukun ḫidûtam urrī u mūšī sūr u mēlil lū ubbubū ṣubātūka qaqqadka lū mesi mê lū ramkāta ṣubbi ṣeḫram ṣābitu qātīka marḫītum liḫtaddâm ina sūnīka }
[12] Odyssey.8. 261-5. On the sense of wonder in this distinctive passage, Kurke (2012) p. 228. The subsequent two quotes above are from Odyssey 8.370-80 (Alcinous urged Halius and Laodamas…) and 8.381-4 (Godlike Odysseus indeed called out…).
[13] In his dialogue in support of pantomime dance, Lucian has a pantomime dancer triumph in telling the story of Aphrodite and Ares’s adulterous affair. According to Lucian, Demetrius the Cynic denounced dancers as adding nothing to the telling of a story. The leading pantomime under Nero, probably a pantomime with the stage name Paris, proved that a dancer could tell a story apart from music and singers like Demodocus:
Enjoining silence upon the stampers and flute-players and upon the chorus itself, and thus quite unsupported he danced the love of Aphrodite and Ares. He danced Helius tattling, Hephaestus laying his plot and trapping both of them with his entangling bonds, individually portrayed gods who came in on them, Aphrodite ashamed, Ares seeking cover and begging for mercy, and everything that belongs to this story. He did it in in such a way that Demetrius was delighted beyond measure with what was taking place and paid the highest possible tribute to the dancer. He raised his voice and shouted at the top of his lungs: “I hear the story that you are acting, man. I don’t just see it. You seem to me to be talking with your very hands!”
Odyssey 8.115-7. This appreciation for men’s beauty, an intrinsic personal quality, contrasts with the men competing in contests for glory.
[15] In ancient Greek culture, men could not become “heroes of the dance floor” in the sense that they could become heroes in institutionalized violence against men (war). Men could, however, inspire amazement for their dancing and be valued for their dancing. Cf. Hall (2010).
[16] Iliad 18.490p-6. The subsequent quote above is Iliad 18.533-40.
[17] Lucian, Περὶ Ὀρχήσεως 2 and 5. The prior short quotes above are from Περὶ Ὀρχήσεως 1, and the subsequent two quotes above are from Περὶ Ὀρχήσεως 5 and 71.
[18] Hall (2010) p. 3 (first part), pp. 2-3 (second part). With awesome bombast, Lada-Richards opined:
Lada-Richards (2010b) paras. 25-6 (footnotes omitted). One has to be very well educated to take such writing seriously.
[19] Iliad 18.590-606. The epithet “ἀμφιγυήεις,” as applied to the master craftsman and iron smith Hephaestus, isn’t well-understood. Its literal meaning apparently is “both-limbs” or “both-(curved plow wood).” It has been interpreted as “lame-legged” or “strong-armed.” Hephaestus’s wife Aphrodite had adulterous sexual relations with Ares. In the context of that well-known affair, ἀμφιγυήεις plausibly alludes erectile failure.
Furthermore, in discussing war dance / Pyrrhic dance, Plato highlighted the importance of straight limbs:
In all these cases, the action and the tension of the sinews are correct when there is a representation of fair bodies and souls in which most of the limbs of the body are extended straight. This kind of representation is right, but the opposite kind we pronounce to be wrong.
Plato, Laws 815A-B. Cf. Hesiod, Works and Days {Ἔργα καὶ Ἡμέραι} vv. 248–64, advising princes to make straight, not crooked, judgments. Via the epithet ἀμφιγυήεις, understood as “bent-limbed,” Hephaestus is characterized as inferior to Ares in sexual “fighting.”
Having space to dance was a favorable aspect of a location. That’s a plausible interpretation of describing Mycalessus {Μυκαλησσός} as “having a broad dancing space {εὐρύχορος}” in Iliad 2.498.
The metaphor of the potter testing his wheel should inform interpretation of the dancing in Iliad 18.590-606. The potter apparently is testing if his wheel runs true, meaning evenly between his hands. That metaphor supports a contrast between the dancers running smoothing and their rows moving into each other.
The verse numbering for Iliad 18.604-5 is abnormal, with one verse numbered 18.604-5. Some editions use an alternate text that includes a separate v. 605:
And around the lovely chorus stood a great multitude, delighting in it. And among them, a divine singer sang and played on the lyre, and two tumblers among them whirled in the middle, with the singer leading the song and dance.
Iliad 18.403-6 (as corrected by Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae 180c-181f). A singer leading dancers is consistent with later, well-known Greek choral practice. On this textual variant, Olsen (2016) pp. 43-5, and Dué (2018) Chapter 3.
they had what may be called a dance culture, in which much of their dancing contributed to processes needed for the coordination, survival, reproduction and prosperity of the community.
Zarifi (2007) p. 228. On the role of dance in ancient Greek culture, Kowalzig (2007) and Wilson (2000).
The earliest known Greek inscription praises a man’s dancing:
He who dances now most gracefully of all the dancers, for him this…
Inscription on Dipylon oenochoe (wine jug), dated c. 740 BGC and preserved as inv. 192 in the National Archaeological Museum of Athens. The ancient Greek text is via Wikipedia, Dipylon inscription entry, and the English translation mainly from D’Angour (2021). The Dipylon oenochoe apparently was a prize in a men’s dancing competition. On later dance competitions, Webb (2012).
Plato referred to the Emmeleiai, a peaceful, pleasurable type of dancing that men do:
Many of the names bestowed in ancient times are deserving of notice and praise for their excellence and descriptiveness. One is the name given to the dances of men who are in a prosperous state and indulge in pleasures of a moderate kind. How true and how musical was the name so rationally bestowed on those dances by the man, whoever he was, who first called them all Emmeleiai.
The extent to which Plato and Aristotle were concerned with dance has been under-appreciated. In Plato and Aristotle, ποίησις / poiesis is best understood not as “poetry” but as “music-dance and verbal verse.” Scott (2023). In Plato’s Laws, dance has fundamental importance: “choral dance proves to be the ideal means to educate somebody with respect to pleasure and pain.” Pfefferkorn (2021) p. 345. See also Spaltro (2011). In the Laws, Cleinias of Crete readily assents to the Athenian stranger’s query: “Shall we assume that the uneducated man is without choir-training, and the educated man fully choir-trained { Οὐκοῦν ὁ μὲν ἀπαίδευτος ἀχόρευτος ἡμῖν Bἔσται, τὸν δὲ πεπαιδευμένον ἱκανῶς κεχορευκότα θετέον}?” They then quickly agree upon the related proposition, “The well-educated man will be able both to sing and dance well {Ὁ καλῶς ἄρα πεπαιδευμένος ᾄδειν τε καὶ ὀρχεῖσθαι δυνατὸς ἂν εἴη καλῶς}.” Laws 654B (Book 2).
[images] (1) Relief (detail, color enhanced) depicting Athenian men dancing with shields and swords (probably Pyrrhic dance). Relief made in the first half of the first century BGC, probably imitating an Athenian relief from the second half of the fourth century BGC. The dancers probably aren’t meant to represent Corybantes {Κορύβαντες}, castrated men serving the mother goddess Cybele. Relief preserved as Inv. 321 in the Pius-Clementine Museum, Room of the Muses, Vatican Museum (Rome). Source image thanks to Rabax63 and Wikimedia Commons. Here’s a plaster cast of four of the men dancers from the relief. (2) Greek men dancers performing Pontian Serra dance (Pyrrhic {Πυρρίχιος} dance) at the closing ceremony of the 2004 Summer Olympics at Athens, August 29, 2004. Video via YouTube. (3) Three Corybantes dancing a war dance around the mother goddess Cybele and her consort Attis, who are riding in a quadriga pulled by four lions. Detail from the Parabiago Plate, a late fourth-century silver plate found in 1907 at an ancient Roman cemetery near present-day Milan. Preserved in the Museum of Archeology (Milan, Italy). Source image via Europeana. Many images are also on Wikimedia Commons. (4) Fresco of Etruscan man and woman dancing from the Tomb of the Triclinium in the Necropolis of Monterozzi (Lazio, Italy). Made about 470 BGC. Preserved in the National Etruscan Museum (Tarquinia, Italy). Image via Yorck Project and Wikimedia Commons.
References:
Bowersock, Glen W. 2008. “Aristides and the pantomimes.” Chapter 4 (69–77) in William V. Harris and Brooke Holmes, eds. Aelius Aristides between Greece, Rome, and the Gods. Columbia Studies in the Classical Tradition. Leiden / Boston: Brill. Volume review by Carl O’Brien and by Anne Gangloff.
Fagles, Robert, trans. 1996. Homer. The Odyssey. New York: Penguin Publishing Group.
Fairclough, H. Rushton, trans. 1926. Horace. Satires. Epistles. The Art of Poetry. Loeb Classical Library 194. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Harmon, A. M., ed. and trans. 1936. Lucian. The Passing of Peregrinus. The Runaways. Toxaris or Friendship. The Dance. Lexiphanes. The Eunuch. Astrology. The Mistaken Critic. The Parliament of the Gods. The Tyrannicide. Disowned. Loeb Classical Library 302. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Heubeck, Alfred, Stephanie West, and J. B. Hainsworth, eds. 1988. A Commentary on Homer’s Odyssey. Vol. 1: Introduction and Books I-VIII. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Kurke, Lesle. 2012. “The Value of Chorality in Ancient Greece.” Chapter 10 (pp. 218-235) in John K. Papadopoulos and Gary Urton, eds. The Construction of Value in the Ancient World. Los Angeles, CA: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology Press. Volume review by Chloë N. Duckworth.
Lada-Richards, Ismene. 2010a. “Dead but not Extinct: On Reinventing Pantomime Dancing in Eighteenth-Century England and France.” Chapter 1 (pp. 19 – 38) in Macintosh (2010).
Macintosh, Fiona, ed. 2010. The Ancient Dancer in the Modern World: Responses to Greek and Roman Dance. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Review by Grace Ledbetter, by Dana Mills, and by Rosella Simonari.
Molloy, Margaret E. 1996. Libanius and the Dancers. Hildesheim: Olms-Weidmann.
Murray, A. T., ed. and trans., revised by George E. Dimock. 1919. Homer. Odyssey. Volume I: Books 1-12. Volume II: Books 13-24. Loeb Classical Library 105. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Murray, A. T., trans. Revised by William F. Wyatt. 1924. Homer. Iliad. Loeb Classical Library 170 and 171. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Alternate source for Murray’s translation.
Robertson, D. S. 1914. “The Authenticity and Date of Lucian De Saltatione.” Pp. 180-185 in Quiggin, Edmund Crosby, ed. Essays and Studies Presented to William Ridgeway On His Sixtieth Birthday – 6th August 1913. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Schlapbach, Karin. 2008. “Lucian’s On Dancing and the Models for a Discourse on Pantomime.” Chapter 14 (pp. 314-337) in Edith Hall and Rosie Wyles, eds. New Directions in Ancient Pantomime. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Scott, Gregory L. 2023. Dance Theory of Plato and Aristotle: 3 Essays. New York, NY: ExistencePS Press.
Slater, W. J. 1994. “Pantomime Riots.” Classical Antiquity. 13(1): 120–44.
Spaltro, Frances L. 2011. Why Should I Dance for Athena? Pyrrhic Dance and the Choral World of Plato’s Laws. Ph.D. Thesis, Department of Classical Languages and Literatures, University of Chicago.
Webb, Ruth. 2011. “The nature and representation of competition in pantomime and mime.” Chapter 6 (pp. 221-260) in Johannes Nollé, Kathleen Coleman, Jocelyne Nelis-Clément, and Pierre Ducrey, eds. L’organisation des spectacles dans le monde Romain: huit exposés suivis de discussions. Geneva: Vandœuvres.
Zarifi, Yana. 2007. “Chorus and Dance in the Ancient World.” Chapter 7 (pp. 227-248) in Marianne McDonald and Michael Walton, eds. The Cambridge Companion to Greek and Roman Theatre. Cambridge Companions to Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
In the ancient Greek Iliad, men seek glory in brutal, gender-structured violence against men. Much different from Iliadic heroesare the eminent Lesbian poet Sappho’s brothers Charaxos and Larichos. Sappho criticized them and praised them with gender-defying love for them as human beings in female-dominated culture. She valued her brothers and men generally as sexually distinctive persons who love passionately and dance worthily just as she and her women friends did.
O divine sea-daughters of Nereus, let my brother return here unharmed and let whatever his heart desires be fulfilled.
And may he undo all past mistakes and so become a joy to friends, a sorrow to enemies — may none ever trouble us.
Sappho’s brother Charaxos loved a woman named Rhodopis. Raised with Sappho in a prosperous, aristocratic family on Lesbos, Charaxos became a wealthy merchant, probably a wine trader. He traveled for trade to Naucratis in ancient Egypt. Rhodopis was a slave there. Enamored with her, he spent “a huge amount of money {χρημάτων μεγάλων}” to purchase freedom for her.[2] She used her freedom and her sexual allure to establish herself as a famous and wealthy courtesan at Naucratis. That surely wasn’t Charaxos’s hope for her. Because he understood that freedom is an essential aspect of love as a complete gift of self, he didn’t purchase her as his slave.
Charaxos, however, apparently never received complete and necessarily exclusive love from Rhodopis. He returned without her to Mytilene, the capital of Lesbos. “There he was roundly mocked by Sappho in one of her poems {ἐν μέλεϊ Σαπφὼ πολλὰ κατεκερτόμησέ μιν}.” Sappho apparently regarded her brother as a foolish believer in Cinderella stories and wholly innocent, pure women.[3] In her love for Charaxos, Sappho sought to free him from gyno-idolatry and enable him to fulfill truly his heart’s desire.
Sappho’s brother Larichos poured wine for the rulers of Lesbos in its largest city, Mytilene. Larichos thus held an eminent position for a young man:
The lovely Sappho repeatedly praises her brother Larichos for pouring wine in the governing hall for the Mytileneans.
Sappho described Hermes as pouring wine for the gods. However, the most prominent wine-pourer for rulers is Ganymede. Zeus abducted Ganymede and made him forever a cup-bearer, wine-pourer, and sexual toy. Sappho wouldn’t have wanted her brother Larichos to become an immortal, ageless wine-pourer for the Mytileneans, nor even one for the gods like Ganymede. Sappho was devoted to Aphrodite. Just as Aphrodite loved the mortal, aging man Anchises, Sappho loved her brother Larichos as a mortal man who surely would age beyond being a wine-pourer.[5]
Crossing gender, Sappho explicitly associated herself with the aged Tithonus. Just as Zeus abducted Ganymede, the dawn goddess Eos abducted the mortal man Tithonus to serve her sexually. Eos had Zeus make Tithonus immortal, but neglected to request that Tithonus be ageless. Aphrodite offered the example of Tithonus in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite. Sappho similarly invoked the aged Tithonus, whom she associated with herself. Sappho advised young persons:
You, young persons, pursue the violet-laden Muses’ lovely gifts, and the clear-toned lyre so dear to song,
but for me — old age has now seized my once tender body, and my hair has become white instead of black. My breath has grown labored, and my knees offer no support, knees once fleet for the dance like little fawns.
How often I lament these things. But what to do? As a human, one cannot escape old age. Yes, people used to say that rose-armed Dawn, overtaken by love, took Tithonus, handsome and young then, and carried him off to the world’s end. Yet in time grey age still seized him, though he having an immortal wife.
The metaphorical parallel to the immortal but aged Tithonus is Sappho’s knees “once fleet for the dance like little fawns.” Her knees function as a metonym for her legs and her physical capabilities generally. The aged Sappho regretted her loss of bodily capabilities. She urged young persons, both women and men, to sing and dance. Her advice applies to her young brother Larichos.[7]
Sappho appreciated men’s supple limbs apart from prowess in fighting. The Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite used the incapacity of Tithonus’s limbs to characterize his disability as a lover for the goddess Eos:
When hateful old age was pressing fully hard on Tithonus and he couldn’t move his limbs, much less lift them up, in her heart Eos decided the best way indeed to be this: she put him in a room and closed the shining doors upon him. From there his voice endlessly pours out, but he has no vigor at all, none like he formerly had in his supple limbs.
The aged Tithonus is brother to the aged Sappho in having an immortal voice and physical disability associated with limbs.[9] The penis is commonly regarded as one of a man’s members / limbs. Impotent limbs encompass sexual disability distinctive to men. Sappho, however, also understood limbs apart from sexual distinctiveness. The young Tithonus was brother to the young Sappho in having supple limbs. Both women and men need supple limbs for dancing.
For men, dancing contrasts with the heroic ethic of the Iliad. After Achilles killed Hector, King Priam of Troy lamented the disgraceful character of his remaining sons:
Woe is me, oh my evil destiny. I have had the most noble of sons in Troy, but I say not one of them is left to me — not godlike Mestor, not Troilos the warrior charioteer, nor Hector, who was a god among men, for he did not seem like the son of a mortal man, but of a god. All these Ares has slain, and all that are left to me are disgraces — liars and dancers, most noble in pounding the floor in choral dance, robbers of lambs and young goats in their own land.
Sappho herself sang for choral dances and apparently taught women dancers. Devoted to Aphrodite, Sappho appreciated dance as did the goddess of love Aphrodite. Aphrodite summoned Helen to have sex with her husband Paris even after her former husband Menelaus shamed him on the battlefield of Troy:
Helen, come this way. Paris calls you to come home. He’s there in the marital bedroom, on the bed with inlaid rings. He’s gleaming with his beauty and robes. You wouldn’t say he came from fighting a foe, but rather he was going to a dance, or from a dance having recently returned, he was resting.
Like Aphrodite, Sappho would have appreciated her brothers more as dancers than as warriors.[11]
In the ancient Mediterranean world, men’s status in women’s eyes typically centered on men’s material wealth and skill in violence against men. Sappho, in contrast, cared most about beauty:
Some say an army of horsemen, others say foot soldiers, still others a fleet of ships is the most beautiful thing on the black earth. I say it is whatever one loves.
Helen left behind the great warrior and Greek king Menelaus to elope with the Trojan prince Paris, known for his beauty and dancing. Anaktoria’s “lovely step {ἐρατὸν βᾶμα}” suggests her dancing. Paris, not the warrior-hero Hector, was a manly ideal in Sappho’s eyes.
In her “Brothers Poem,” Sappho challenged her mother not to think about her sons Charaxos and Larichos according to men’s traditional gender burdens. Men traditionally have been burdened with providing material goods to their families. In a poem plausibly addressed to her mother, Sappho urged concern not for the goods her brother Charaxos was to bring, but for his personal safety:
You keep on saying that Charaxos must come with his ship full of goods. Zeus knows this, I believe, as do all the gods. Don’t think about it.
Instead send me, yes command me to keep praying to Queen Hera that Charaxos return here guiding his ship safely
and find us steadfast. Everything else we should turn over to the gods, since harsh gales to fair winds soon give way.
At an annual festival to Hera on Lesbo, Sappho apparently led the dancing associated with the very expensive sacrifice of 100 cattle, a “hecatomb {ἑκατόμβη}.” Moreover, in ancient Greek myth, two brothers Kleobis and Biton, working in the place of oxen, pulled their mother atop her wagon to a festival of Hera. Kleobis and Biton then happily died in Hera’s temple.[14] Their mother honored her two sons as praiseworthy instruments, yet they perished as human beings. Sappho praying to Hera for Charaxos’s safe return doesn’t require an expensive sacrifice. Moreover, Sappho explicitly orients her prayer away from instrumental valuation of Charaxos and towards his safety. Sappho’s conventional invocation of the gods plays between Zeus and Hera while undermining the instrumentalizing of men as a gender.[15]
Sappho’s gender-defying love for her brother Larichos subverts Iliadic characterization of the warrior man-hero. Sappho associated Larichos with her and their mother. She thus gave him domestic importance that many men lack:
And us? If Larichos lifts his head high and some day becomes a man, our hearts might be swiftly freed from such heavy aches.
In the Iliad, a man lifting his head high and acting like a man means being steadfast in massive violence against men. Sappho’s manly ideal, however, was Paris, not Hector. An insightful scholar observed of the last two verses of the “Brothers Poem”:
with their sisterly exhortation to Larichos to go and play a Telemachos-like role and show himself “a man”, while the heavy and rare word βαρυθυμία – “weightiness of spirit”, “depression”, raising the stylistic level, correlates with the devastating erotic love we find elsewhere in Sappho. Here she is the devoted sister, worrying about her younger brother, as in other poems she does about girls, one of whom (after all), if he lifts his head, Larichos will grow up to marry.[17]
In ancient Greek, the root of Larichos, “laros {λαρός},” meaning “sweet,” is used to characterize wine. Sappho is concerned about Larichos not as a warrior, but as a lover and potential husband. In this context, lifting his head alludes to Larichos’s sexual arousal. Being a man means acting as a sexually mature man. To lift heavy heart-aches, a marriage celebration is best of all. In ancient Greek, the root of Charaxos, “chara {χαρά},” means “exuberant joy.” Sappho in ending the “Brothers Poem” imagines Charaxos having returned home, Larichos getting married, and all joyfully dancing.[18]
Although she wrote exquisite poetry in love for women, Sappho also loved men. She apparently married and had at least one child. She sang and played music for men’s symposia. A tradition going back to no later than the ancient comic Greek poet Menander describes her as having fallen madly in love with Phaon, a boatman of Lesbos. He was reputed to be once regarded as an ugly man, at least superficially. The first-century scholar Pliny the Elder reported that Sappho appreciated men’s typically covered genitals:
Marvelous is the characteristic reported of the erynge, that its root grows into the likeness of the organs of one sex or the other. Although rarely found in the male form, if that form comes into the possession of men, they become lovable in the eyes of women. It is said that this is how Phaon of Lesbos himself won the love of Sappho.
{ portentosum est, quod de ea traditur, radicem eius alterutrius sexus similitudinem referre, raro inuento, sed si uiris contigerit mas, amabiles fieri; ob hoc et Phaonem Lesbium dilectum a Sappho }[19]
Like Dido for Aeneas, Sappho reportedly committed suicide through her extravagant passion for Phaon. Ovid’s fictional letter of Sappho to Phaon, a letter now rightly regarded as “uniquely Sapphic,” depicts Sappho’s orgasm in dreaming of Phaon:
You, Phaon, are my care. My dreams bring you back to me — dreams brighter than beautiful day. There I find you, even though you’re absent from this region. But joys that sleep brings aren’t sufficiently long. Often I seem to burden your arms with my neck, often I seem to have placed mine beneath yours. I know the kisses that you would have united with your tongue, that you devised as suitable to receive, suitable to give. Sometimes I entice you and speak words similar to the truth, and my lips keep watch with my senses. I’m ashamed to tell further, but all happens, and it delights, and it’s not possible for me to stay dry.
{ Tu mihi cura, Phaon; te somnia nostra reducunt — somnia formoso candidiora die. illic te invenio, quamvis regionibus absis; sed non longa satis gaudia somnus habet saepe tuos nostra cervice onerare lacertos, saepe tuae videor supposuisse meos; oscula cognosco, quae tu committere lingua aptaque consueras accipere, apta dare. blandior interdum verisque simillima verba eloquor, et vigilant sensibus ora meis. ulteriora pudet narrare, sed omnia fiunt, et iuvat, et siccae non licet esse mihi. }[20]
Phaon wasn’t anyone like an Iliadic heroic. He was simply a beautiful man, a man with beauty sexually distinctive to men. Sappho wouldn’t have loved her brothers Charaxos and Larichos as instruments of commerce or violence against men. She would have loved them as beautiful human beings.
Many modern scholars have failed to appreciate Sappho’s love for her brothers. In the “Brothers Poem,” Sappho’s distinctive concern for Charaxos’s safety, rather than his ship’s cargo, has scarcely been noticed. That’s consistent with modern complacency about men’s gender burdens and the large gender protrusion in human mortality.
Scholars have projected contempt for men upon Sappho’s view of Larichos. One learned classical philologist translated the final stanza of the “Brothers Poem” to have Sappho hoping that Larichos “finally mans up.”[21] That diction constitutes a classic call for men to gender-conform. Another scholar imagined Sappho depicting Larichos as a “feckless brother” in contrast to an Iliadic hero. This scholar imagined Sappho insulting and ridiculing her brother: “That he is not an ἀνήρ (‘man’) in the Iliadic sense is her crowning insult.”[22] This scholar’s interpretation bizarrely makes Sappho’s feminine values contrast starkly with Sappho’s valuing of her brothers. Sappho was not a gender-bigoted feminist.
Modern disparagement of men has heavily colored translations of Sappho’s “Brothers Poem.” One translation absurdly imagines Sappho wanting Larichos to “whistle Dixie”:
As for us — if lazyboy Larichos ever lifts his head and turns into a man who can whistle Dixie goodbye family gloom! We’ll run our fingers through his beard and laugh.[23]
Dixie was the traditional anthem of the secessionist U.S. states seeking to keep blacks enslaved. To “whistle Dixie” means to engage in idle talk of unrealistically optimistic fantasies. Sappho surely didn’t want Larichos to help his family revel in fantasies of white supremacy. Nonetheless, Oxford students in a student literary periodical called this translation “the most alluring from a sea of seven sassy Sapphos.”[24] Their imagined “sassy Sappho” is a singer of a morally obtuse, childish cartoon.
Another translation provides additional cultural insight. Unlike Sappho, many intellectuals today inhabit a reeking sewer:
…. As for Larichos,
that lay-a-bed lives for the pillow. If for once he’d get off his ass, he might make something of himself. Then from that reeking sewer of my life I might haul up a bucket of spring water.[25]
Even just the surviving fragments of her poetry and the surviving testimonies about her life indicate that Sappho led a vibrant life — a life filled with social interaction, intellectual and artistic activities, and passionate love. The “reeking sewer of my life” is the here-and-now experience of this learned translator. He perceptively described those serving Hera, Zeus, and other traditional Greek gods as “those idiots in the Iliad.” Most of the idiots killed in the foolish Trojan War over Helen were men. Sappho surely wanted her brother Larichos to make of himself something other than being “gloriously” killed in battle. She would have preferred for him to lay in bed as Paris did for awhile during the Trojan War with the help of Aphrodite.
Like mothers’ love for their sons, sisters’ love for their brothers is vitally important to promoting social justice and gender equality. Sappho loved her brothers Charaxos and Larichos with gender-defying love, with humane and forgiving love, and with love affirming her brothers’ essential goodness as men. The name Sappho apparently arose as an affectionate term for sister — a term like “best-friend-forever sister.”[26] If all sisters loved their brothers as Sappho did, men would not aspire merely to acquiring wealth or dying in glory as warriors. Men would finally be liberated to flourish like Sappho as fully human beings.
Sappho wrote about 600 BGC on the island of Lesbos near the eastern coast of the Aegean Sea. Even in antiquity she was widely regarded as an eminent poet:
Some say the Muses are nine, but how carelessly! Look at the tenth, Sappho from Lesbos.
The Greek Anthology {Anthologia Palatina} 9.506, verses attributed to Plato, from Thorsen & Berge (2019). Scholars in Hellenistic Alexandria compiled at least eight books of Sappho’s poetry, but most of her poems have been lost. Digital Sappho provides Greek texts and commentary for all the surviving fragments of Sappho’s poetry. English translations of these fragments are available from Barnstone (2005), Carson (2002), Nagy (2018), Rayor & Lardinois (2023), the Sappho page of Poetry in Translation, and the Divine Sappho. Today as an artist Sappho is even more famous than the pioneering Greek painter Kora of Sicyon.
[2] Herodotus recounted:
Rhodopis arrived in Egypt, brought by Xanthes of Samos. On arrival she was freed for a huge amount of money in order to work. A man from Mytilene, Charaxos son of Scamandronymus, and brother of Sappho the poet, did this. Thus Rhodopis was freed and lived in Egypt. Since she was extremely lovely, she gained much wealth for such a Rhodopis.
Herodotus, Histories 2.135, ancient Greek text from Wilson (2015) via Thorsen & Berge (2019), English translation (modified slightly) from id. The English translation of Godley (1920) brings out more explicitly Herodotus’s wry allusion to Rhodopis’s profession as a hetaera (high-class prostitute). Rhodopis {Ῥοδῶπις} means literally “rosy cheeks.” Other sources call her Doricha {Δωρίχα}. That may have been her real name. In her fragment 15, Sappho apparently refers to Doricha and Charaxos’s love for her.
Later sources recount similarly about Rhodopis / Doricha. Writing sometime between 7 BGC and 24 GC, Strabo described a large, expensive pyramid thought to be her tomb:
It is called “Tomb of the Courtesan,” having been built by her lovers. This courtesan was the one whom Sappho the poetess of melic songs calls Doricha, the beloved of Sapphoʼs brother Charaxos. He was engaged in transporting Lesbian wine to Naucratis for sale. Others give her the name Rhodopis.
Strabo, Geographica {Γεωγραφικά} 17.1.33, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified) from Thorsen & Berge (2019). Writing early in the third century GC, Athenaeus commented:
Naucratis also produced famous and exceptionally beautiful courtesans, including Doricha. She was a lover of Sapphoʼs brother Charaxos, who sailed to Naucratis on a trading journey. In her poems the lovely Sappho abuses Doricha for extracting a substantial amount of money from Charaxos.
Whether Charaxos, Rhodopis / Doricha, and Larichos are historical persons or literary personas created in Sappho’s poems has little significance to the presentation here. For simplicity, I assume that they are historical persons. With the same justification, I equate Sappho and the first-person voice of Sappho’s poems.
[3] For Sappho mocking Charaxos, Herodotus, Histories 2.135, ancient Greek text from Wilson (2015) via Thorsen & Berge (2019), English translation (modified slightly) from id. Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae 13.596bc has Sappho disparaging Doricha / Rhodopis rather than Charaxos.
Sappho perhaps chided her brother Charaxos for believing on meager evidence that he had discovered a highly desirable, goddess-like woman who would love him truly and faithfully. Made in this context, truthful, frank criticism indicates love, not contempt. Ovid perceptively depicted Sappho’s loyal love for her brother Charaxos:
Because I often warned him well and very faithfully, he hates me. This my free-speaking, this my loyal tongue, has bestowed on me.
{ me quoque, quod monui bene multa fideliter, odit; hoc mihi libertas, hoc pia lingua dedit. }
Ovid, Heroides 15 (Sappho to Phaon {Sappho Phaoni}) vv. 67-8, Latin text of Ehwald (1907) Teubner via Perseus, my English translation, benefiting from that of James Hunter. Just before Sappho laments Charaxos hating her for her loyal tongue, she suggests that Charaxos now roams the seas as a pirate. That sensational claim seems to be a literary device intending to highlight Sappho’s continuing love for her brother. On Ovid’s depiction of Charaxos in Heroides 15 in relation to Sappho’s poetry, Thorsen (2014) pp. 58-63 and Thorsen (2019).
In fragment 57, Sappho derides an addressee for loving an ignorant countrywoman. Athenaeus specified Sappho’s addressee in fragment 57 as her woman associate Andromeda. Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae 1.46 = 1.21b. In fragments 68(a), 131, and 133, Sappho refers explicitly to Andromeda. The addressee of fragment 57 could grammatically be a woman or man. Fragment 57 thus might have been addressed to Charaxos.
They tell the fabulous story that, when Doricha was bathing, an eagle snatched one of her sandals from her maid and carried it to Memphis. While the king was administering justice in the open air, the eagle, when it arrived above his head, flung the sandal into his lap. The king, stirred both by the beautiful shape of the sandal and by the strangeness of the occurrence, sent men in all directions into the country in quest of the woman who wore the sandal. When she was found in the city of Naucratis, she was brought up to Memphis. She became the wife of the king. When she died was honored with the above-mentioned tomb.
[4] Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae {Δειπνοσοφισταί} 10.24 = 10.425a, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified slightly) from Thorsen & Berge (2019). On Sappho having Hermes pour wine for the gods, Deipnosophistae 5.19 = 5.192c, also available in Thorsen & Berge (2019).
[5] On Ganymede’s relevance to Larichos in Sappho’s “Brothers Poem”:
Larichos’ activity as a cupbearer in the aristocratic symposium more than adumbrates his deep involvement in love as well. Around 600 BC the Greek aristocracy began to install beautiful boys as wine-bearers more for leisure, prestige, and erotic amusement than for education as in former times. It became fashionable in Sappho’s time to have these boys as objects of an idealized and passionate love. Ganymede modeled this new male homoerotic practice of the élite. .. Thus Larichos’ behavior leads us to believe he also has fallen prey to Eros who somehow personifies these idealized boys in their duty as wine-pourers in the new symposium. While the bonds of heterosexual love bind Charaxos, Larichos is engaged in homosexual affairs. His bowed head signifies his lack of personal freedom. He has become a slave of desire, the object of lust for adult males.
Bierl (2016) pp. 321-2.
[6] Sappho, Fragment 58c, vv. 1-12 (The Cologne Papyrus, P.Köln inv. 21351), ancient Greek text from Digital Sappho, English translation (modified) from Greene (2009). Tithonos {Τιθωνός} is the standard transliteration, but Tithonos is commonly written as Tithonus. For v. 5, Greene has “my heart has grown heavy” for “βάρυς δέ μ’ ὀ [θ]ῦμο̣ς̣ πεπόηται.” That translation, and others similar to it, seem too abstract in the context of body, hair, and knees. My translation, “my breath has grown labored,” is within the semantic range of the ancient Greek.
Fragment 58c, known as Sappho’s “Old Age Poem” or “Tithonus Poem,” was recovered in a new manuscript in 2004 and first published in West (2005). The new manuscript complements an earlier source, the Oxford Papyrus, P.Oxy. 1787 fr. 1. For textual commentary, Annis (2005), Harris, and Obbink (2009). For alternate translations, West (2005) p. 5, Carson (2005), Gutman (ND), Obbink (2009), Janko (2017) p. 270, Harris (2018), Nagy (2018), and Rayor & Lardinois (2023).
The textual conclusion of this poem is a matter of considerable scholarly debate. Archaic Greek poetry wasn’t likely to conclude with an exemplum. Lowell (2009). But this poem might be especially subtle. Janko (2017). Moreover, it might have existed in antiquity in shorter and longer versions. Lardinois (2009), Nagy (2009).
Sappho’s “Old Age Poem” is resolutely gender-ambiguous. Translations have commonly assumed a gender not marked in the text:
Nowhere does the speaker signal her gender; this ode is unisex. Even though Greek is a highly inflected language, with a separate feminine gender in nouns and adjectives (but not in verbs, unlike Semitic languages), nowhere, in the text as it is plausibly reconstructed, does the speaker indicate her sexual identity, nowhere does she even indicate the sexual identity of the young people whom she is addressing, and nowhere does she signal whether the speaker’s and the addressees’ desires incline towards others belonging to the same sex, to the opposite sex, or to both. This poem could be performed by a man as easily as by a woman, and addressed to boys or both boys and girls just as easily as to girls. Not even the ‘fawns’ to which the speaker is compared in line 6 are gendered: the word is a neuter diminutive.
Janko (2017) p. 275.
[7] With regard to the “Old Age Poem,” Greene insightfully observed:
the speaker’s urgent entreaty of the paides {παῖδες / young persons} in the first line of the poem may be read not only as a powerful call to embrace song and dance while one can, but also as an invocation to future generations to keep her songs alive in the only way they can live, through performance.
Greene (2009). This call to embrace song and dance encompasses young men as well as young women.
Alcman, a Greek lyric poet who was probably active late in the seventh century BGC, pleaded to young women when he was too old to dance with them:
Honey-toned, divine-voiced young women, no longer can my limbs carry me. If only, if only I were a cerylus, who flies with the halcyons over the flower of the wave with resolute heart, a strong, sea-blue bird.
Alcman, Fragment 26 (preserved in Antigonus of Carystus, Marvels), ancient Greek text and English translation (modified) from Campbell (1988). For alternate translations and notes, see posts by Chris Childers and by Michael Gilleland. Alcman’s plea to young women suggests their concern for him and other older men.
[8] Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (Homeric Hymns 5, To Aphrodite {Εἲς Ἀφροδίτην}), vv. 1-6, ancient Greek text from West (2003), my English translation, benefiting from a variety of available translations.
[9] Desire for poetic immortality pervades Sappho’s poems. West (2005) pp. 2-3. Some ancient sources indicate that in old age Tithonus became a cicada. Janko associates the Tithonus exemplum with the cicada’s immortal singing and Sappho’s singing through her old age. Janko (2017) pp. 288-9. Some add to the Tithonus poem verses following it in the Oxford Papyrus (P.Oxy. 1787 fr. 1):
Yet I love the finer things. Know that love has obtained for me the brightness and beauty of the sun.
Sappho, Fragment 58c, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified) from Campbell (1982). The sun is associated with the immortality of the god Helios {Ἠέλιος} in ancient Greek culture. An alternate translation of these these verses affirms earthly life:
Yet I love the finer things. Know that love of the sun has obtained for me brightness and beauty.
English translation (modified slightly) from Rayor & Lardinois (2023). Athenaeus quotes these verses and interprets “love of the sun {ἔρος τὠελίω}” to mean love for life. Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae 15.687b. Sappho might have intended both these meanings:
I believe the ambiguity to be deliberate and that one should construct τὠελίω both with ἔρος and with τὸ λάμπρον καὶ τὸ κάλον: “love of the sun / life has obtained for me the brightness and beauty [of the sun / life]”. Constructing τὠελίω both with ἔρος and with τὸ λάμπρον καὶ τὸ κάλον would agree with the idea expressed in the opening priamel of Sappho fr. 16, namely that the most beautiful thing on earth is whatever one loves: the speaker’s love of life makes it for her an object of beauty.
Lardinois (2009), omitted footnote points to a similar grammatical ambiguity in Sappho, Fragment 96.15–17.
[10] Homer, Iliad 24.255-62, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified) from Murray (1924). The subsequent quote above, “Helen, come this way…,” is similarly from Iliad 3.390-4.
[11] Stehle described Paris in the Iliad as a better Homeric parallel for Larichos than Telemachos in the Odyssey. Stehle (2016) pp. 289-90. However, her narrow-minded interpretation of Sappho’s “Brothers Poem” imagines Sappho disparaging Larichos for being like Paris. On sexual politics shaping readings of Sappho, Prins (1999).
[12] Sappho, Fragment 16.1-12, 15-20, ancient Greek text from Campbell (1982) via Digital Sappho, English translation (modified slightly) from Rayor & Lardinois (2023). Sappho, Fragment 16, has tended to be read to have Sappho assimilating love and war. Papadimitropoulos (2016). However, Sappho’s concluding comparison with the massive army of Lydians seems to me best understood as Sappho rejecting heroic glory associated with the Trojan War. The literary legacy of Gallus has inappropriately colored reading of Sappho’s Fragment 16.
[13] Sappho, Fragment 10 (“Brothers Poem”), vv. 1-12, ancient Greek text from Campbell (1982) via Digital Sappho, English translation (modified slightly) from Rayor & Lardinois (2023). In v. 1, Rayor translated the instance of the rather rare verb θρυλεῖν as “keep on saying.” That has a note of insistence, without necessarily the belittling connotations of chattering or babbling. Rayor’s choice here seems to me the best choice in light of the analysis of Stehle (2016) pp. 272-4. In v. 9, for ἀρτ̣έ̣μεας Rayor translated “secure.” I used “steadfast” following the analysis of Stehle (2016) pp. 274-7. In v. 2, I added the gloss that the ship is full “of goods.” The close translation of Nagy (2015a) includes this gloss.
For Sappho’s “Brothers Poem,” here are helpful vocabulary and notes. For other commentary and translations, Obbink (2014a) pp. 39-40, Christopher Pelling in Obbin (2014b), TLS (2014a), TLS (2014b), Gribble (2016), Logan (2016), and Obbink (2016a) pp. 39-40 (slightly revised translation).
The person to whom the poem is addressed is a matter of scholarly controversy. Sappho’s mother is the likeliest addressee. Obbink (2014a) pp. 41-2, West (2014) p. 8. The addressee being Larichos himself seems highly improbable. Cf. Stehle (2016). Larichos as addressee wasn’t even considered a possibility in Obbink (2014a) p. 41. A rigidly gendered reading of the “Brothers Poem” also seems to favor Sappho’s mother as the addressee. Kurke (2016). But in my view, Sappho rejected aspects of masculine gender in the “Brothers Poem.”
Charaxos coming with a full ship plausibly includes an allusion to his sexual affair with Rhodopis / Doricha. Wright (2015), Obbink (2016b) pp. 209-11. Specifics of such an allusion aren’t clear. It could include a physical reference to Charaxos’s sexual frustration. Sappho would thus be alluding to men’s seminal load as a human good contrasting with material goods.
[14] A seasonally recurring festival for Hera apparently took place at Messon (currently known as Mesa) in the middle of Lesbos and centered on the hecatomb, the sacrifice of one hundred cattle. The festival for Hera on Lesbos was probably similar to the one for Hera at Argos. Nagy (2016) §§35-38, 41-49, 64. On the festival for Hera at Argos, Nagy (2015b). For the story of the mother (named Cydippe in Plutarch) and her two sons Kleobis and Biton, Herodotus, Histories 1.31.1–5. For a different interpretation of the relevance of Kleobis and Biton to Sappho, Nagy (2016) §91.
Hera perhaps was associated in her sanctuary at Messon with Zeus and Dionysos. Those three deities constituted the Lesbian triad. On Hera’s sanctuary and the Lesbian triad, Boedeker (2016) pp. 196-200, Jiménez San Cristóbal (2017).
[15] Although Sappho’s poetry shows much more concern for Hera than Zeus, Hera doesn’t dominate Zeus in the “Brothers Poem”:
I find most striking the complementary differences in the roles Sappho assigns to the two gods; both are ‘sovereign’, but within very different parameters.
Boedeker (2016) p. 206, with detailed analysis of their relationship in id. pp. 203-7. Sappho similarly rejects gender hierarchy constraining the lives and devaluing the intrinsic goodness of Larichos and Charaxos.
[16] Sappho, Fragment 10 (“Brothers Poem”), vv. 17-20, ancient Greek text from Campbell (1982) via Digital Sappho, my English translation, benefitting from that of Rayor & Lardinois (2023). Following comments from Obbink (2014b) about the concluding verses, “hearts … heavy aches” seemed to me the best translation in vv. 19-20.
[17] Obbink (2014b). Obbink subsequently associated the “Brothers Poem” with the song type “prayer for safe return.” In the context of the “Brothers Poem”:
The prayer for safe return, introduced as a matter of concern, then expands to envisage what such a return would mean for the family — wealth, and an enhanced social position in the community. The emphasis shifts almost imperceptibly from the envisaged distress that sparks the prayer to the envisaged happiness that comes with the prayer’s fulfilment, as happens in the erotic sphere in Sappho fr. 1, except that here the desired good becomes more specific or personal in the end, and may in each of the cases include or imply marriage. … The point is not that Larichos should survive and grow up: he should become an ἄνηρ in all senses. Presumably this would include marriage and the production of legitimate offspring.
Obbink (2016b) pp. 212-3. Sappho’s fragments 6B, 27, 30, 103-117B are probably from wedding songs.
[18] On the roots “laros {λαρός}” and “chara {χαρά},” Bierl (2016) pp. 319, 321; Obbink (2016b) p. 213. Sappho inverting Iliadic language in the “Brothers Poem” is consistent with her practice in fragment 31:
As extensively documented by scholars, Sappho’s use of Homeric imagery, inverted from military or battlefield death scenes to an erotic context, has been at the forefront of analyses of fragment 31.
Johnson (2009). Singing and dancing was central to who Sappho was:
The poetics of Sappho, as I have been arguing since 1990, reveal her to be a choral personality, that is, someone who performs as a leader in a dancing as well as singing group known as a khoros ‘chorus’.
Nagy (2017) §21. Kurke, with her rigid gender scheme, seems unable to imagine Larichos dancing:
Thus in our song, if Larichos ‘raise his head and become a man’, mother and daughter both might return to the proper activities of choral dance and festival celebration.
Kurke (2016) p. 249, n. 32. Sappho surely regarded dancing as proper activity for men, including Larichos.
[19] Pliny the Elder, Natural History {Naturalis historia} 22.20, Latin text and English translation (modified) from Thorsen & Berge (2019). The erynge to which Pliny refers is thought to be the sea holly (Eryngium maritimum).
Pliny associating the erynge with Sappho probably derives from perceptions of Sappho’s ardent sexual love for men. The first-person speaker in Sappho’s poems is typically identified with Sappho. In Sappho’s fragments 121and 138, Sappho speaks about her sexual desire for men. Sappho apparently also sexually desired women.
According to the tenth-century Suda (Σ 107), Sappho “was married to a very wealthy man called Cercylas, who traded from Andros {ἐγαμήθη δὲ ἀνδρὶ Κερκύλᾳ πλουσιωτάτῳ, ὁρμωμένῳ ἀπὸ Ἄνδρου}.” Thorsen & Berge (2019). Cercylas / Kercylas of Andros literally means “Little Prick from the Isle of Man.” Rayor & Lardinois (2023) p. 4. Ancient Greek comic poets may have invented this punning name for jokes about Sappho’s vigorous sexuality. Cf. Campbell (1982) p. 5, note 4.
Sappho had a daughter named Kleïs / Cleis. Sappho refers to her beautiful daughter Kleïs in fragment 132. In fragment 98, Sappho refers to her mother and a woman named Kleïs. That’s probably Sappho’s daughter as well.
Scholars now generally consider Sappho’s love for Phaon to be a literary creation dating to well after Sappho’s death. Fourth-century BC authors refer to Sappho’s love for Phaon. Palaephatus, Incredible Tales {De incredibilibus} 48; Menander, via Strabo, Geography {Geographica} 10.2.9, source texts and English translations in Thorsen & Berge (2019). Ovid’s Heroides 15 is by far now the most well-known text concerning Sappho’s love for Phaon.
[20] Ovid, Heroides 15 (Sappho to Phaon {Sappho Phaoni}) vv. 123-36, Latin text of Ehwald (1907) Teubner via Perseus, my English translation, benefiting from that of James Hunter. In Heroides 15.135, “I’m ashamed to tell further, but all happens {ulteriora pudet narrare, sed omnia fiunt},” Ovid seems to be recasting Sappho, Fragment 137, vv. 1-2: “I want to tell you something, but shame prevents me {θέλω τί τ᾽ εἴπην, ἀλλά με κωλύει / αἴδως}.” Aristotle spuriously attributed these Sapphic verses to Alcaeus addressing Sappho. Alcaeus is thought to have loved Sappho. In short, Ovid apparently engaged with Sappho’s poems in a sophisticated and humorous way. On intertextuality with Sappho’s poems in relation to Ovid depicting Sappho’s orgasm, Hunter (2019) pp. 49-50.
Recognizing Ovid’s letter from Sappho to Phaon as “uniquely Sapphic,” Thorsen perceptively declared:
thanks to the newest Sappho we now know that Heroides 15 is among the most rare and most precious examples of Sappho’s Roman reception that we possess today.
Thorsen (2019) pp. 262-4. Ovid also refers to Sappho in The Art of Love {Ars amatoria} 3.329-32, The Remedies for Love {Remedia amoris} 757-62, and Tristia 2.361-6, 3.7.19-20.
[21] Nagy (2015a).
[22] Stehle (2016) p. 290. For Larichos as “feckless brother,” id. p. 291. In assuming that Sappho’s attitude toward her brother Larichos reflects Iliadic values, scholars make Sappho as anti-meninist as themselves:
I interpret the line ‘If he lifts his head and indeed ever becomes a man’ to be an insulting swipe. He is of age, but he will not take the responsibility to rescue Sappho and her interlocutor from whatever baruthumiai are oppressing them. Transpose the situation to epic terms, and we can imagine Eurykleia in the Odyssey privately telling Penelope what she thinks of the latter’s laggard twenty-something slacker son. Larichos, like Telemachos, has got to man-up. … As for the derogatory wish that Larichos ‘be a man’, we might compare the frequent injunction in the Iliad to ‘be men’ — as when Agamemnon roams about urging on his troops (Il.5.528; cf. 6.112, 8.174, 11.287, 15.487, 561)
Martin (2016) pp. 121, 122.
[23] Anne Carson’s translation of the final stanza of Sappho’s “Brothers Poem” in TLS (2014a). Obbink (2016a), p. 208, reprints Carson’s translation without any specific, substantive comment and even uses a phrase from it for the title of his scholarly article.
[24] Alpern et al. (2020).
[25] Logan (2016). Logan used the phrase “those idiots in the Iliad” in the penultimate stanza of his translation of Sappho’s “Brothers Poem.”
[26] Nagy (2016) §§166-72.
[images] (1) Sappho and Erinna in a garden at Mytilene. Painted by Simeon Solomon in 1864. Preserved as accession # T03063 at the Tate (London). Via Wikimedia Commons. (2) Geras {Γῆρας}, ancient Greek god of old age. Painting on an Attic red-figure pelike (container, probably for wine). Made c. 480-470 BGC. Preserved as accession # G 234 (Doria Collection, 1882) in the Louvre Museum (Paris). Source image thanks to Jastrow (2006) and Wikimedia Commons. (3) Kleobis and Biton dying in the temple of Hera after carrying their mother Cydippe there. Painted by Adam Müller in 1830. Via Wikimedia Commons. (4) Sappho gazing at Alcaeus. Each holds a barbitos {βάρβιτος}, an ancient musical instrument similar to the lyre. Painting on an Attic red-figure kalathos (basket-shaped vase). Made c. 470 BGC and found in Akragas (Sicily). Preserved as accession # Inv. 2416 in the Staatliche Antikensammlungen (Berlin). Source image thanks to Bibi Saint-Pol and Wikipedia Commons. Here are a fuller image of Sappho on this kalathos and a fuller image of the whole vase. More images of the vase. On Attic images of Sappho, Yatromanolakis (2007) Chapter 2. (5) Sappho reading. Painting on an Attic red-figure hydria (water jar). Made c. 450 BGC and found in Kimissalla, Rhodes. Preserved as accession # 1885,1213.18 in the British Museum, which supplied the source image. Here’s another ancient Greek image of Sappho reading.
Campbell, David A., ed. and trans. 1982. Greek Lyric, Volume I: Sappho and Alcaeus. Loeb Classical Library 142. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Campbell, David A., ed and trans. 1988. Greek Lyric, Volume II: Anacreon, Anacreontea, Choral Lyric from Olympus to Alcman. Loeb Classical Library 143. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Carson, Anne. 2002. If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho. New York: Alfred A. Knopf.
Carson, Anne. 2005. “The Beat Goes On.” The New York Review. October 20, 2005.
Castle, Terry. 1999. “Always the Bridesmaid.” London Review of Books. 21:19 (September 30, 1999).
Godley, A. D. 1920. Herodotus. London: William Heinemann.
Murray, A. T., trans. Revised by William F. Wyatt. 1924. Homer. Iliad. Loeb Classical Library 170 and 171. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Alternate source for Murray’s translation.
Papadimitropoulos, Loukas. 2016. “Sappho Fr. 16: Love and War.” Classical Journal 112 (2): 129–38.
Prins, Yopie, 1999. Victorian Sappho. Princeton, NY: Princeton University Press. Reviews by Lisa George and Castle (1999).
Rayor, Diane J., trans., and André Lardinois, intro. and notes. 2023. Sappho: A New Translation of the Complete Works. Second edition. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Reviews of first edition (2014) by P. J. Finglass and by Siobhan Hodge.
Thorsen, Thea S. 2019. “The Newest Sappho (2016) and Ovid’s Heroides 15.” Chapter 13 (pp. 249-264) in Thorsen & Harrison (2019).
Thorsen, Thea S. and Robert Emil Berge. 2019. “Receiving Receptions Received: A New Collection of testimonia Sapphica c.600 BC – AD 1000.” Chapter 15 (pp. 289-402) in Thorsen & Harrison (2019).
Thorsen, Thea S. and Stephen Harrison, eds. 2019. Roman Receptions of Sappho. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. Review by Antonio Ramírez de Verger.
TLS. 2014a. “The Brothers Poem by Sappho — Versions by Richard Janko, Anne Carson, Peter McDonald and A. E. Stallings.” TLS: The Times Literary Supplement (London), March 28, 2014, p. 22.
TLS. 2014b. “The Brothers Poem by Sappho — Three versions.” Translations by Alistair Elliot, Andrew McNeillie, Rachel Hadas. TLS: The Times Literary Supplement (London), May 2, 2014, p. 23. Here’s the translation by Rachel Hadas.