solidarity among men promotes gender equality & social justice

To overcome millennia of gynocentric oppression, solidarity among men is essential. When a person is killed, few even notice that he’s a man. Large anti-men bias in criminal justice generates little public concern. Holding behind bars in jails and prisons about fifteen times as many men as women matters less to elites than the gender distribution of winners of the Booker Prize. Men must strongly and loyally support each other in order to promote gender equality and social justice.

Bernart de Ventadorn, troubadour

Men relating to women easily slide into grotesque self-abasement. Consider the pathetic case of the twelfth-century man trobairitz Bernart de Ventadorn. He suffered from acute one-itis and gyno-idolatry for a beautiful woman lacking compassion for him. Bernart lamented:

She’s mastered cheating, trickery,
so that always I think she loves me.
Ah, sweetly she deceives me,
as her pretty face confounds me!
Lady, you’re gaining absolutely nothing:
in fact, I’m sure it’s toward your loss
that you treat your man so badly.

God, who nurtures all the world,
give her a heart to receive me,
for I don’t want to eat any food
and of nothing good I have plenty.
Toward the beautiful one, I’m humble,
and I render her rightful homage:
if she pleases, she can keep me or sell me.

Evil she is if she doesn’t call me
to come where she undresses alone
so that I can wait at her bidding
beside the bed, along the edge,
where I can pull off her close-fitting shoes
down on my knees, my head bent down:
if only she’ll offer me her foot.

{ Tan sap d’engenh e de ganda
c’ades cuit c’amar me volha.
be doussamen me truanda,
c’ab bel semblan me cofonda!
domna, so no·us es nuls enans,
que be cre qu’es vostres lo dans,
cossi que vostr’om mal prenda.

Deus, que tot lo mon garanda,
li met’ en cor que m’acolha,
c’a me no te pro vianda
ni negus bes no·m aonda.
tan sui vas la bela doptans,
per qu’e·m ren a leis merceyans:
si·lh platz, que·m don o que·m venda!

Mal o fara, si no·m manda
venir lai on se despolha,
qu’eu sia per sa comanda
pres del leih, josta l’esponda,
e·lh traya·ls sotlars be chaussans,
a genolhs et umilians,
si·lh platz que sos pes me tenda. } [1]

Despite treating Bernart badly, this woman owns him. Like the pathetic General Belisarius, Bernart wants to kiss her feet. Men deserve gender equality. Social justice won’t be achieved as long as men merely kiss women’s feet.

Writing in the first century BGC, Parthenius of Nicaea recorded a marvelous story of solidarity among men. In 277 BGC, Gauls from present-day southern France raided the ancient Greek city of Miletus, which is in the middle of the Aegean coast of present-day Turkey.[2] The raid occurred during the gynocentric, gender-exclusive women’s festival Thesmophoria. In the ancient world, when an enemy sacked a city, all the city’s men usually were killed. The Gauls’ raid on the gender-exclusive festival produced one happy outcome: no men were killed.[3] Because women are regarded under gynocentrism as having higher social value than men, the Gauls didn’t kill the women, but took them as captives.

Being a captive woman was much better than being a dead man. The Milesians paid the Gaulic raiders large ransoms of gold and silver to get back some of the Milesian women. As for the other Milesian women, some probably had dominated, abused, and tormented their husbands, who thus were pleased to be freed from them. Those women became instead the wives of Gaulic men. Those Gaulic men endured a Pyrrhic victory. As has commonly been the case, women suffered less than men did.

The Milesian woman Herippe disappeared before her husband Xanthus, a highly respected and well-born citizen of Miletus, was able to ransom her. Xanthus and Herippe together had a two-year-old child. Xanthus retained custody of their child. At the same time, Xanthus missed Herippe greatly. Converting just part of his possessions into the enormous sum of two thousand gold coins, he traveled all the way to southern France to ransom from the Gauls his beloved wife Herippe.

In the land of the Gauls, Xanthus found that Herippe had become the wife of one of the Gauls’ most distinguished leaders. Showing a generous heart, this Gaul received Xanthus readily and hospitably:

when Xanthus went in, he saw his wife, who threw her arms around him and drew him toward her with great affection.

{ εἰσελθὼν ὁρᾷ τὴν γυναῖκα, καὶ αὐτὸν ἐκείνη τὼ χεῖρε ἀμφιβαλοῦσα μάλα φιλοφρόνως προσηγάγετο. } [4]

The Gaul put on a banquet for Xanthus and seated Herippe next to Xanthus. As drinks were being circulated, the Gaul asked Xanthus how much money he had for Herippe’s ransom. Xanthus said that he had a thousand gold coins. The Gaul declared that Xanthus should keep three parts for himself, his wife, and his child, and give the fourth part as ransom.

Late that night, after the others had gone to bed, Herippe sharply criticized Xanthus for being willing to pay such a large ransom. Husbands must be able to endure their wives’ sharp criticism. In this case, Xanthus explained that he had another thousand gold coins hidden in the soles of his servant’s boots. Xanthus explained that he had been willing to pay a much larger ransom. In short, Xanthus made clear to Herippe how much he valued having her as his wife.

Herippe didn’t reciprocate her husband’s great love for her. Even worse, she viciously betrayed him:

The following day the woman told the Celtic how much gold her husband had. She tried to persuade the Gaul to kill Xanthus. She much preferred him, she said, to her native country and her child. As for Xanthus, she utterly detested him.

{ ἡ γυνὴ τῇ ὑστεραίᾳ τῷ Κελτῷ καταμηνύει τὸ πλῆθος τοῦ χρυσοῦ καὶ παρεκελεύετο κτεῖναι τὸν Ξάνθον, φάσκουσα πολὺ μᾶλλον αἱρεῖσθαι αὐτὸν τῆς τε πατρίδος καὶ τοῦ παιδίου· τὸν μὲν γὰρ Ξάνθον παντάπασιν ἀποστυγεῖν. }

Xanthus had no idea that his wife despised him. If he had even imagined that she as a captive of the Gauls would come to prefer her Gaulish husband to him, Xanthus would never had made the long journey with a huge amount of money to attempt to ransom her.

Herippe’s disloyalty to her native country, her contempt for her former husband, and her disregard for their young child didn’t please the Gaul. What Xanthus failed to perceive, the Gaul understood: Herippe was a wicked woman. In the ancient world, being a wicked woman wasn’t regarded as a praiseworthy display of strength and independence.

The Gaul decided to spring a surprise punishment on Herippe. He escorted Herippe and Xanthus to the border of Celtic country. Then he announced that he wanted to sacrifice an animal to the gods:

The sacrificial animal brought in, the Gaul bade Herippe take hold of it. She did, as she had often done in the past. Then, stretching up his sword, he brought it down and beheaded her. He tried to persuade Xanthus not to take it badly. He told him about her plot and permitted him to take all the gold back with him.

{ καὶ κομισθέντος ἱερείου, τὴν Ἡρίππην ἐκέλευεν ἀντιλαβέσθαι· τῆς δὲ κατασχούσης, ὡς καὶ ἄλλοτε σύνηθες αὐτῇ, ἐπανατεινάμενος τὸ ξίφος καθικνεῖται καὶ τὴν κεφαλὴν αὐτῆς ἀφαιρεῖ, τῷ τε Ξάνθῳ παρεκελεύετο μὴ δυσφορεῖν, ἐξαγγείλας τὴν ἐπιβουλὴν αὐτῆς, ἐπέτρεπέ τε τὸ χρυσίον ἅπαν κομίζειν αὑτῷ. }

Today, the Gaul’s punishment of Herippe might seem barbaric. The Gaul might rightly regard today’s acute anti-men bias in punishment, as well as mass imprisonment of men, to be a travesty of justice.

Traditional folk justice is “tit for tat,” or “what goes around, comes around.” Early in the thirteenth century, a didactic poet recorded in German:

When a man gives malicious advice to another,
it is only right that he receive the same treatment.

{ Von reht iz uf in selben gat,
swer dem andern geit valschen rat. } [5]

The Gaul interpreted a similar ethos to apply equally to men and women. When his wife advised him to kill her former husband, he killed her after she became his former wife. The Gaul deserves credit for acting decisively in support of gender equality and solidarity among men, irrespective of race, Gaul or Greek. Upholding solidarity among men and promoting gender equality should progress to more humane practices. Yet some morally sanctioned action toward worthy ideals is better than no action at all.

The well-born ancient urban Greek and the sophisticated troubadour love poet are cultural heroes of gynocentric society. Too many men today are as obtuse as Xanthus was in relation to his wife. Too many men today seek to be feet-kissing servants to women like Benart de Ventadorn was. We all can learn from the ancient barbarian Gaul.

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Notes:

[1] Bernart de Ventadorn, “When I see in the scrubland {Lancan vei per mei la landa}” st. 3-5 (vv. 15-35), Old Occitan text from Corpus des Troubadours, English translation (modified slightly) from Wilhelm (1970) pp. 125-6. At the excellent Brindin Press, James H. Donalson (2004) has an Occitan text and English translation of “Lancan vei per mei la landa” freely available online. Here’s a German translation. Other online Occitan texts and English translations are curiously missing the important third stanza.

For all the songs of Bernart, with English translations, Nichols (1962). For some analysis of his style, Clifford (1976).

[2] Lightfoot (1999) p. 413. The Gauls established a permanent settlement in the region of Asia Minor that came to be known as Galatia. Greeks colonized Miletus about three thousand years ago. By the sixth-century BGC, Miletus was one of the wealthiest Greek cities.

[3] Cf. Deuteronomy 20:13, Numbers 31:7-9, 17-8.

[4] Parthenius of Nicaea, Sufferings in Love {Ἐρωτικὰ Παθήματα} 8.4 (About Herippe {Περὶ Ἡρίππης}), ancient Greek text and English translation (modified slightly to be more easily readable) from Lightfoot (2009). The subsequent two quotes are similarly from Ἐρωτικὰ Παθήματα 8.7 (The following day…) and 8.9 (The sacrificial animal brought in…). The Perseus Digital Library has freely available the ancient Greek text of Ἐρωτικὰ Παθήματα in the Teubner edition of Hercher (1858). Lightfoot’s Greek text is considerably better.

Parthenius’s manchette for this story states:

The story is told by Aristodemus of Nysa in the first book of his Histories, except that he changes the names and calls the woman Euthymia instead of Herippe, and the barbarian Cauaras.

{ Ἱστορεῖ  Ἀριστόδημος ὁ Νυσαεὺς ἐν α΄Ἱστοριῶν περὶ τούτων, πλὴν ὅτι τὰ ὀνόματα ὑπαλλάττει ἀντὶ Ἡρίππης καλῶν Εὐθυμίαν, τὸν δὲ βάρβαρον Καυάραν }

Lightfoot (2009). Lightfoot notes that the Gaul’s name Cauaras suggest a connection to the area around Marseilles in southern France.

Lightfoot observed, “The thrust of this unusual story is to demonstrate male solidarity….” Lightfoot (1999) p. 413. Authorities acting under gynocentrism are interested in suppressing stories of solidarity among men. Lightfoot herself declared, “the theme {of the Herippe story} is misogynistic.” Id. p. 414. Under gynocentrism, labeling works “misogynistic” is a powerful tool of censorship and suppression.

[5] From Freidank’s early thirteenth-century collection of short proverbial sayings written in Middle High German verse and called Discernment {Bescheidenheit}, as transmitted in the Carmina Burana, Add. 17.39-40. Middle High German text and English translation from Traill (2018) v. 2, p. 573.

Person today don’t protest because men are betrayed and unjustly killed. The Gaul took decisive action in solidarity with his fellow man.

[image] Illuminated initial depicting Bernart de Ventadorn. On folio 15v of the Chansonnier provençal (Chansonnier K). Made in the second half of the thirteenth century. Preserved as MS. BnF Français 12473, via Gallica.

References:

Clifford (Boitani), Paula. 1976. ‘“Fine words and joyful melodies”: some stylistic aspects of the love songs of Bernart de Ventadorn.’ Reading Medieval Studies. 2: 14-27

Lightfoot, J. L. 1999. Parthenius of Nicaea: The poetical fragments and the  Ἐρωτικὰ Παθήματα. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (review by Christopher Francese)

Lightfoot, J. L. 2009. Hellenistic Collection: Philitas, Alexander of Aetolia, Hermesianax, Euphorion, Parthenius. Loeb Classical Library, 508. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press. (reviews by Giambattista D’Alessio, by Claudio De Stefani, and by Iiro Laukola)

Nichols, Stephen G. 1962. The Songs of Bernart de Ventadorn: complete texts, translations, notes and glossary. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press.

Traill, David A. 2018, ed. and trans. Carmina Burana. Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library, 48-49. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press.

Wilhelm, James J. 1970. Seven Troubadours: The Creators of Modern Verse. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press.

how Homer and Hesiod used gender in hawk-dove metaphors

hawk attacking

Both Homer’s Iliad and Hesiod’s Works and Days employ metaphorically a strong, violent male hawk attacking a weak, helpless, female dove or nightingale. Constructed threats to females commonly function within false gender violence stereotyping to mobilize urgent concern for females. The predominate gender structure of violence in life and literature, however, is violence against men. Both Homer and Hesiod redirected gendered bird metaphors to depict violence against men.

Toward the end of Homer’s Iliad, the great Trojan warrior Hector held his ground in front of the gates of Troy, expecting the enraged, fearsome Achaean warrior Achilles to charge towards him. Then it happened:

Hector looked up, saw him, started to tremble,
nerve gone, he could hold his ground no longer,
he left the gates behind and away he fled in fear —
and Achilles went for him, fast, sure of his speed
as the wild mountain hawk, the quickest thing on wings,
launching smoothly, swooping down on a cringing dove,
and then she flits out from under, the hawk screaming
over the quarry, plunging over and over, his fury
driving him down at her to tear his kill.

{ Ἕκτορα δ᾿, ὡς ἐνόησεν, ἕλε τρόμος· οὐδ᾿ ἄρ᾿ ἔτ᾿ ἔτλη
αὖθι μένειν, ὀπίσω δὲ πύλας λίπε, βῆ δὲ φοβηθείς·
Πηλεΐδης δ᾿ ἐπόρουσε ποσὶ κραιπνοῖσι πεποιθώς.
ἠύτε κίρκος ὄρεσφιν, ἐλαφρότατος πετεηνῶν,
ῥηιδίως οἴμησε μετὰ τρήρωνα πέλειαν,
ἡ δέ θ᾿ ὕπαιθα φοβεῖται, ὁ δ᾿ ἐγγύθεν ὀξὺ λεληκὼς
ταρφέ᾿ ἐπαΐσσει, ἑλέειν τέ ἑ θυμὸς ἀνώγει } [1]

Hector like a dove raced around the walls of Troy three times with the hawk Achilles in furious pursuit. Then Hector, deceived by the goddess Athena, ceased his dovish flight. He turned and stood to fight Achilles. Hector taking this socially constructed masculine position set up violence against men.[2] That’s normative violence in human societies.

Normative violence against men devalues men as a gender. After Hector failed to hurt Achilles with a spear throw, Hector realized that the goddess had deceived him. He understood that his death was near:

“So now I meet my doom. Well let me die —
but not without struggle, not without glory, no,
in some great clash of arms that even men to come
will hear of down the years!” And on that resolve
he drew the whetted sword that hung at his side,
tempered, massive, and gathering all his force
he swooped like a soaring eagle
launching down from the dark clouds to earth
to snatch some helpless lamb or trembling hare.

{ “μὴ μὰν ἀσπουδί γε καὶ ἀκλειῶς ἀπολοίμην,
ἀλλὰ μέγα ῥέξας τι καὶ ἐσσομένοισι πυθέσθαι.”
Ὣς ἄρα φωνήσας εἰρύσσατο φάσγανον ὀξύ,
τό οἱ ὑπὸ λαπάρην τέτατο μέγα τε στιβαρόν τε,
οἴμησεν δὲ ἀλεὶς ὥς τ᾿ αἰετὸς ὑψιπετήεις,
ὅς τ᾿ εἶσιν πεδίονδε διὰ νεφέων ἐρεβεννῶν
ἁρπάξων ἢ ἄρν᾿ ἀμαλὴν ἢ πτῶκα λαγωόν } [3]

The male eagle or hawk drives himself to his own death. He cannot conceive of men’s inglorious position as a gender. So it was with Hector. Achilles, at advantage with the long reach of his spear, drove its point through Hector’s throat and killed him. The death-blow to the throat is telling. Gynocentric stereotype-disseminators at the commanding heights of the classics discipline speak preposterous lies about the silencing of women. No social silence is more oppressive than the silence about violence against men.

Hesiod’s Works and Days employs a gendered bird metaphor with literary sophisticating far beyond the socially favored stereotype of the strong, brutish male attacking the weak, appealing female. Hesiod’s gendered bird metaphor is a “fable {αἶνος}” for “kings {βᾰσῐλεῖς}”:

This is how the hawk addressed the colorful-necked nightingale,
carrying her high up among the clouds, grasping her with his claws,
while she wept piteously, pierced by his curved claws. He forcefully said:
“Silly bird, why are you crying out? One far superior to you is holding you.
You are going wherever I shall carry you, even if you are a singer.
I shall make you my dinner if I wish, or I shall let you go.
Stupid is he who would wish to contend against those stronger:
he will be deprived of victory and suffer pains in addition to shame.”

{ ὧδ᾽ ἴρηξ προσέειπεν ἀηδόνα ποικιλόδειρον,
ὕψι μάλ᾽ ἐν νεφέεσσι φέρων, ὀνύχεσσι μεμαρπώς·
ἡ δ᾽ ἐλεόν, γναμπτοῖσι πεπαρμένη ἀμφ᾽ ὀνύχεσσιν,
μύρετο· τὴν ὅ γ᾽ ἐπικρατέως πρὸς μῦθον ἔειπεν·
“δαιμονίη, τί λέληκας; ἔχει νύ σε πολλὸν ἀρείων·
τῇ δ᾽ εἶς ᾗ σ᾽ ἂν ἐγώ περ ἄγω καὶ ἀοιδὸν ἐοῦσαν·
δεῖπνον δ᾽ αἴ κ᾽ ἐθέλω ποιήσομαι ἠὲ μεθήσω.
ἄφρων δ᾽ ὅς κ᾽ ἐθέλῃ πρὸς κρείσσονας ἀντιφερίζειν·
νίκης τε στέρεται πρός τ᾽ αἴσχεσιν ἄλγεα πάσχει.” } [4]

Among nightingales, the male, not the female, sings the nightingale’s well-known songs. The short epimythium for this gendered bird metaphor in fact places a male (“Stupid is he…”) in the position of the nightingale. Roman women could be more brutally violent than Roman men. According to eminent ancient Greek playwrights, Greek women behaved similarly. Sophisticated ancient Greek readers would have understood the bird gendering in the hawk fable to be merely a superficial, gynocentric stereotype.

Hesiod’s message to his readers contradicts the fable’s epimythium that the hawk declares. Hesiod as narrator describes the “might makes right” ethos as leading to societal disaster: “there will be no safeguard against evil {κακοῦ δ᾽ οὐκ ἔσσεται ἀλκή}.” Hesiod urges, “give heed to justice {σὺ δ᾽ ἄκουε Δίκης}.” When a society respects justice, that society will be spared war — institutionally structured violence against men. Moreover, in that society wives will have children that resemble their husbands: men will not be victims of reproductive fraud.[5] In stark contrast to the society of “might makes right,” the justice-respecting society will be fruitful and flourish.

The poet Hesiod associates himself with the nightingale-singer that the hawk attacks. Men vastly predominate among the victims of violence. That’s especially true in the epic violence of Homer’s Iliad. Hesiod poetically seeks to extract men from epic violence against men:

By virtue of the properties, actions, and manner of speech assigned to it, the aggressor embodies not just the value system that Hesiod will subsequently reject but also a genre of poetry (and the ethics that genre foregrounds) that prove antithetical to the larger composition in which the bird appears. … Viewed this way, the ainos {fable} forms part of an ongoing polemic within the Works and Days that compares, contrasts, and devalues martial epic and sets it against Hesiod’s current enterprise with its focus on agricultural labor, domestic arrangements, and the earth. … a hostile encounter between two birds not only configures a contrast between two ethical systems but also between the two styles and genres of poetry that articulate those values. [6]

For Hesiod, employing the hawk-nightingale anti-men gender stereotype was merely a superficial rhetorical means to engage in broad criticism of violence against men and the discursive fields that support violence against men.

Men deserve justice. Authors with enormous symbolic power now use men’s rights — men’s equal rights as fully human beings — as an operative label in what might fairly be called vicious, mindless libel.[7] Homer and Hesiod saw through the anti-men gender stereotyping of hawk-dove metaphors. You should, too.

O Perses, ponder this matter in your heart,
give heed to justice, and evict violence from your mind.
For among humans Cronus’s son Zeus set this law:
that fish and beasts and birds of prey
eat one another, since justice is not among them.
But to humans he has given justice, by far the best gift.
For one who recognizes justices and declares it publicly,
that one far-seeing Zeus gives blissful abundance.

{ ὦ Πέρση, σὺ δὲ ταῦτα μετὰ φρεσὶ βάλλεο σῇσιν,
καί νυ Δίκης ἐπάκουε, βίης δ᾽ ἐπιλήθεο πάμπαν.
τόνδε γὰρ ἀνθρώποισι νόμον διέταξε Κρονίων,
ἰχθύσι μὲν καὶ θηρσὶ καὶ οἰωνοῖς πετεηνοῖς
ἔσθειν ἀλλήλους, ἐπεὶ οὐ Δίκη ἐστὶ μετ᾽ αὐτοῖς·
ἀνθρώποισι δ᾽ ἔδωκε Δίκην, ἣ πολλὸν ἀρίστη
γίνεται· εἰ γάρ τίς κ᾽ ἐθέλῃ τὰ δίκαι᾽ ἀγορεῦσαι
γινώσκων, τῷ μέν τ᾽ ὄλβον διδοῖ εὐρύοπα Ζεύς } [8]

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Notes:

[1] Homer, Iliad 22.136-42, ancient Greek text from Murray (1925), English translation (modified slightly) from Fagles (1990) p. 546. Nortwick & Steadman (2018) provides helpful notes and a vocabulary list for this passage.

Fagles’s translation obscures the female gender of the dove. Via small changes, consistent, with the Greek, I’ve included pointers to the dove’s female sex. Specifically, “and the dove flits out” I’ve changed to “and then she flits out”; and “driving him down to beak and tear his kill” I’ve changed to “driving him down at her to tear his kill.” My changes are consistent with the English translation of Murray (1925).

Fagles’s translation creates a brutalizing allusion to male sexuality. Beyond the necessary meaning of the Greek, Fagles places the hawk above the dove. In Fagles’s translation, the male hawk is “over the quarry, plunging over and over / his fury driving him down” upon the dove. That makes a brutalizing allusion to male sexuality like that in Ausonius’s Wedding Cento {Cento nuptialis}.

In Iliad 22.347, Achilles internalizes the metaphor of himself as hawk. He snarls to Hector that he desires “to carve and eat your flesh raw {ὤμ᾿ ἀποταμνόμενον κρέα ἔδμεναι}.” I use the term hawk-dove metaphor broadly to encompass the Homeric epic simile of hawk and dove as well as Hesiod’s hawk-nightingale fable.

[2] Van Nortwick commented:

So, while we may condemn him {Hector} for his failure to stand and face certain death, we may also find that running only makes him more accessible to us. We see behind the heroic gestures a fully-formed, complicated human being.

Essay on Iliad 22.131-176 in Van Nortwick & Steadman (2018). Men certainly are fully human, fully-formed, complicated human beings. Men may flee from the socially constructed, oppressive male gender position when doing so is beneficial to them.

Lonsdale commented:

The simile at X 139-42 is part of a sequence of similes with ominous import for Hektor’s eventual death. It compares Achilles in pursuit of Hektor to a hawk swooping down upon a tremulous dove. As in the Hesiodic passage the distinction between predator and prey is emphasized by the use of the contrasting masculine and feminine article.

Lonsdale (1989) p. 408. Lonsdale doesn’t recognize that the deadly omen for Hector is his ceasing to behave like a dove. Hector then becomes a man facing typical violence against men.

[3] Homer, Iliad 22.304-10, ancient Greek text from Murray (1925), English translation from Fagles (1990) p. 551. Here are helpful notes and a vocabulary list for this passage.

Using the language of men-devaluing chivalry, Van Nortwick interprets this passage as “one final nod to the Trojan hero’s gallantry”:

Although — or maybe because — he knows the issue has been decided, Hector makes one last charge, and the poet gives him a valedictory simile: he swoops like an eagle swoops at a tender lamb or a cowering hare. Since we know the imminent result, the simile only adds to the pathos in Hector’s bravado.

Essay on Iliad 22.289-336 in Van Nortwick & Steadman (2018). Rather than the conventional ideology of masculine “bravado,” this eagle simile is better interpreted as a reversal of the earlier hawk-dove simile in the context of violence against men.

[4] Hesiod, Works and Days vv. 201-11, ancient Greek text and English translation (modified slightly) from Most (2018). The subsequent two short quotes are similarly from Works and Days v. 201 (no safeguard against evil) and v. 213 (give heed to justice). “The Hawk and the Nightingale” (Perry 4) fable among Aesop’s fables is similar.

[5] On society spared war, Works and Days, v. 229; on wives having children who look like their husbands, Works and Days, v. 235.

[6] Steiner (2007) pp. 181, 188. Lonsdale stated:

In the Dinner of the Seven Wise Men, Cleodorus the physician says that Aesop can more justly lay claim to being the pupil of Hesiod than the poet Epimenides (one of the candidates for a place on the list of sages) since the fable of the hawk and the nightingale (Op. 202-12) first suggested to Aesop the idea of this form of proverbial wisdom spoken by many tongues. From this passage it can be inferred that since antiquity Hesiod’s hawk and nightingale has been hailed as the oldest surviving beast fable in Greek literature.

Lonsdale (1989) p. 403, footnote omitted. The Homeric hawk-dove simile, which isn’t a fable, must be older than Hesiod’s Works and Days if Hesiod was responding to it. That’s plausible.

Nelson (1997) argues that the nightingale represents the kings, not Hesiod. Her interpretation ignores gender in the fable, as well gender in similar Homeric similes. The nightingale in Hesiod’s fable is quite sympathetically portrayed. The gender reversal in interpreting the nightingale is important in critiquing epic violence against men. These interpretative foci make the nightingale an unlikely representative for the kings in the most plausible over-all interpretation of Hesiod’s moralizing Works and Days.

[7] Nagy, who has written extensively about the hawk-nightingale fable in Hesiod, concludes a review of his views:

What the lamenting poet says about the moral outrage of “might makes right” applies not only to the crooked kings of the distant past. I think it applies just as effectively to the self-styled strongmen who dominate so much of today’s troubled world.

Nagy (2018). Moral outrage has been sadly lacking as academic strong-persons, who dominate so much of today’s intellectual life, suppress knowledge-seeking and truth.

[8] Hesiod, Works and Days vv. 274-81, ancient Greek text from Most (2018), my English translation, benefiting from those of Most (2018) and Johnson (2017).

[image] Osprey preparing to dive for a fish in Florida, USA. Source image thanks to NASA and Wikimedia Commons.

References:

Fagles, Robert, trans. and Bernard Knox, intro. and notes. 1990. The Iliad. New York, N.Y., U.S.A.: Viking.

Johnson, Kimberly, trans. Hesiod. 2017. Theogony and Works and Days: A New Bilingual Edition. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press.

Lonsdale, Steven H. 1989. “Hesiod’s Hawk and Nightingale (Op. 202-12): Fable or Omen?” Hermes. 117 (4): 403-412.

Most, Glenn W., ed. and trans. 2018. Hesiod. Theogony. Works and Days. Testimonia. Loeb Classical Library 57. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Murray, A. T., ed. and trans., revised by William F. Wyatt. 1925. Homer. Iliad.  Loeb Classical Library 171. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Nagy, Gregory. 2019. “On a fable about the hawk as a strongman.” Classical Inquires (Harvard’s Center for Hellenic Studies). Online, June 21.

Nelson, Stephanie. 1997. “The Justice of Zeus in Hesiod’s Fable of the Hawk and the Nightingale.” The Classical Journal. 92 (3): 235.

Steiner, Deborah. 2007. “Feathers Flying: Avian Poetics in Hesiod, Pindar, and Callimachus.” American Journal of Philology. 128 (2): 177-208.

Van Nortwick, Thomas, and Geoffrey Steadman. 2018. Homer: Iliad 6 and 22. Carlisle, Pennsylvania: Dickinson College Commentaries. ISBN: 978-1-947822-11-5.

Tityrus the bellwether in the terrible ram vision of Sedulius Scottus

Dark-browed girl with beautiful glances, all stony-hearted,
embrace me, your goatherd, so that I can kiss you.
There is a sweet pleasure even in empty kisses.

{ ὦ τὸ καλὸν ποθορεῦσα, τὸ πᾶν λίθος, ὦ κυάνοφρυ
νύμφα, πρόσπτυξαί με τὸν αἰπόλον, ὥς τυ φιλήσω.
ἔστι καὶ ἐν κενεοῖσι φιλήμασιν ἁδέα τέρψις. } [1]

Tityros statuette

In Sedulius Scottus’s ninth-century bellwether poem, the stolen, castrated ram Tityrus got caught in a thicket and devoured. Meanwhile, the thief went free. Unhappiness is everywhere. The elderly, quarantined in nursing homes, are dropping dead from COVID-19. Boys and girls in separate households cannot see each other and sing to each other. We are substituting castration culture for the seminal blessing.

On a mountain in Moriah, Abraham bound his son Isaac and prepared to slaughter him for a burnt offering to God. Castration culture and the seminal blessing balanced on a knife-edge. God stopped the stroke of Abraham’s knife. God provided a ram caught by its horns in a thicket as a sacrifice in place of Isaac.

Men castrate rams to make them into more tame and tasty wethers. Wethers can’t multiply themselves. Sedulius credited God with multiplying wethers:

When lofty-powered God created the world’s animals,
which the sea, land, and sky contain,
he multiplied wethers with multiple honors,
and among those bleating, made them leaders.

Into their twin nostrils he scattered proud powers,
through multiple breaths he multiplied them.

{ Cum deus altipotens animalia condidit orbis
quae mare, quae tellus, quae tenet atque polus,
multo multones tunc multiplicavit honore
inter balantes fecit eosque duces.

naribus in geminis sparsit viresque superbas,
flatibus in multis multiplicavit eos. } [2]

Pride is a foul-smelling sin in the nose of Christians, who are grateful to God for their created being.[3] Lacking the seminal blessing carried in twin testicles, wethers comically have pride in their twin nostrils, in their own ability to breathe. Sheep and other bleating animals are known to be stupid. Being a leader among sheep is no great credit. Tityrus was a leader of sheep. He was a bellwether.

castrating lamb

Once men are castrated, they can be exploited more easily. When Iphiklos saw his father Phylakos castrating a ram, he understood and ran away.[4] Castration is the route to being slaughtered. Regarding wethers, Sedulius confessed:

Thus, I confess, my affection for them has increased,
as has my love for their fleece and fat belly.
I swear by these fingers, that in this I never lie:
that I crave them, prize them, always love them,
and not even the river Lethe will obliterate this holy love.
What my mouth proclaims, my mind consciously asserts.

{ Unde mihi, fateor, horum dilectio crevit,
crevit amor pepli, pinguis et umbilici.
Iuro per hos digitos, quod in hoc non mentior umquam:
tales quod cupio, diligo, semper amo
nec Lethes fluvius sacrum delebit amorem.
Os quod proloquitur, conscia mens perhibit. }

The Christian cleric Sedulius didn’t love wethers with the equal partnership that medieval Christianity required of wife and husband. Sedulius, who closely identified with Tityrus, sought to consume them.[5]

Sedulius figured Tityrus as a hero like Aeneas. A thief abducted the wether Tityrus. Then a pack of dogs gave chase. Tityrus was caught in a thicket, while the thief got away. Tityrus was a “pious wether {pius multo}” and a “great-hearted hero {magnanimumque ducem}.”[6] With the ravenous, barking dogs surrounding him, he fought strongly. He inflicted many wounds on the dogs, “who reckoned that the wild animal before them was like a lion {atque leoninam rentur adesse feram}.” That was an ominous simile.[7] Nonetheless, surrounded by vicious dogs, “the distinguished one shined with his pious mouth’s words {egregius fulserat ore pio}”:

“What madness is arising in your hearts?” he said.
“Recognize me, the servant of Bishop Hartgar.
I am not the bad thief, not that petty little pilferer;
rather, I am the pious wether, the eminent leader of the flock.
If for amusement you seek to overcome a tyrannical enemy,
behold, that robber is fleeing nearby. Let’s seize him!
But if to the contrary, your rage and raucous barking
would incite you to bloody war against my tranquillity,
I swear by this head of mine, by these horns, and by
this proud forehead, I will give you the rewards you deserve.”

{ “Quis furor in vestris consurgit cordibus?” inquit,
“Gnoscite me famulum praesulis Hargarii.
Non sum latro malus, non sum furunculus ille,
sed sum multo pius, dux gregis eximius.
Si vos oblectet hostem superare tyrannum,
proximus ecce fugit fur, teneamus eum.
Sin autem rabies vestri raucusque latratus
in me tranquillum bella cruenta ciet,
per caput hoc iuro, per cornua perque superbam
hanc frontem: vobis praemia digna feram.” }

Sedulius himself was a scholar-servant of Bishop Hartgar. He probably also was the leader of a flock of scholars under Hartgar at Liège.

Sedulius had reason to sympathize with Tityrus’s battle against the dogs. Relatively liberal and tolerant medieval intellectual life didn’t repress and censor vigorous and wide-ranging criticism. Sedulius probably was subject to criticism like that which Theodulf in Charlemagne’s eighth-century court directed at the Irish scholar Cadac-Andreas:

And may that wild enemy burn with zeal to criticize,
he whose power now is distant from what he would want near.
He has learned much, but nothing solid, nothing that is certain;
he who is ignorant, yet thinks that he knows all.
He didn’t learn so that he might be able to have wisdom,
but so that he would have weapons ready for contention.
You know much and discern nothing, you many-learned ignorant one!
What more hence should I say? You know, yet you don’t know.

{ Et reprehendendi studio ferus aestuet hostis,
Cui sit posse procul iam quia velle prope est.
Plurima qui didicit, nil fixum, nil quoque certum,
Quae tamen ignorat, omnia nosse putat.
Non ideo didicit, sapiens ut possit haberi,
Sed contendendi ut promptus ad arma foret.
Multa scis et nulla sapis: plura inscie nosti,
Quid dicam inde magis? Non sapis atque sapis. } [8]

Scholars readily regard their biting critics as dogs. What scholar hasn’t at some time or other felt himself to be surrounded by vicious dogs?[9]

Tityrus’s epic speech soothed most of the dogs. But Cerberus, “the dog of Hell {canis inferni},” had a triple tongue like Satan in Prudentius’s The Origin of Sin {Hamartigenia}. Cerberus told his fellow dogs not to allow this wether to deceive them like a bear dressed in a fox’s skin. He called Tityrus a liar and proclaimed, “Like a fox he’s playing his resonant, treacherous words {Ceu vulpes ludit subdola verba sonans}.” Tityrus then shook his horns and smashed Cerberus’s forehead with his own. Tityrus would have been victorious in this scholarly battle, but he fled before striking with the killing article.

Cerberus then rushed in pursuit. When Tityrus got caught in a thicket, Cerberus tore into him repeatedly with blood-stained jaws. The bellwether Tityrus fell dead, “a pitiful sight {miserabile visu},” “bedewing the thorns with his purple blood {irrorans vepres sanguine purpureo}.”

Creation mourned the death of the castrated ram Tityrus. Sedulius presented him as an ordinary, innocent pastoral animal:

What did he merit, being just, simple, without deceit or malice?
Gifts of wine or fermented liquid he didn’t drink,
Drunkenness did not deflect this one from the path of righteousness,
nor did banquets of kings, nor did feasts of nobles.
His usual food was grass in the fields,
and the clear water of the Meuse gave him sweet drink.
He did not greedily desire vestments of crimson and ruby,
but was content with his hide tunic.
He didn’t proudly circle on horseback through green gardens,
but rightly migrated a path on his very own feet.
He was no liar, nor did he speak empty words:
“baa” or “bee” — mystical words he offered.

{ Iustus qui meruit, simplex, sine fraude maligna?
Munera nec Bachi non siceramque bibit;
non hunc ebrietas deflexit tramite recti,
non epulae regum nec procerumque dapes.
Illi pastus erat sollemnicus herba per agros
ac dulcem potum limphida Mosa dabat.
Non ostri vestes rubei cupiebat avarus,
sed contentus erat pellicia tunica;
nonque superbus equo lustrabat amoena virecta,
sed propriis pedibus rite migrabat iter.
Non mendosus erat nec inania verba locutus:
baa seu bee mystica verba dabat. } [10]

Lacking a functioning pipe, Tityrus never played a song. Yet the killing of Tityrus engendered a mythic scene of cosmic sadness as if that lack didn’t matter:

Nymphs wept, all of the woods resounded,
the flock of bleating sheep groaned at the crime.
You, bright two-horned moon, for that snow-white wether
you have shined; rightly you grieve as does Aries in the sky.

{ Fleverunt Nymphae, sonuerunt omnia silvae
balantumque greges ingemuere nefas.
Multonem niveum tu, candida Luna bicornis,
luxisti merito fles Ariesque poli. }

Tityrus was a pagan goatherd-poet and a castrated ram. Sedulius, however, analogized him to Christ and Isaac:

Just as the lamb enthroned on high, the son of God himself,
tasted bitter death for sinners,
so you, taking the path of death, lacerated by wicked dogs,
you perish, pious wether, for that bad thief.
Just as the holy ram became a sacrifice for Isaac,
so you continue to be a pleasing victim for the wretched.

{ Agnus ut altithronus pro peccatoribus acrem
gustavit mortem filius ipse dei,
carpens mortis iter canibus laceratus iniquis
pro latrone malo sic, pie multo, peris.
Quomodo pro Isaac aries sacer hostia factus,
sic tu pro misero victima grata manes. } [11]

Christ was a fully masculine man. Isaac procreated two children. Both Christ and Isaac differed significantly from the bellwether Tityrus.

The hungry, impoverished scholar Sedulius understood Tityrus, “a pleasing victim for the wretched,” in part as tasty meals stolen by dogs. Sedulius offered a concluding epitaph for Tityrus:

To you, good wether, farewell; renowned leader of the snow-white flock,
alas, that my garden will no longer have you alive.
Perhaps, beloved one, a hot bath might have been made for you
for no other purpose than the right of hospitality.
With devout heart I myself would have ministered pure water
to your horned head and to your heels.
You, I must confess, I have desired; now I desire your widow, and your mother,
and your brothers I will always love. Farewell.

{ Tu, bone multo, vale, nivei gregis inclite ductor!
Heu, quia nec vivum te meus hortus habet;
forsan, amice, tibi fieret calidumque lavacrum,
non alia causa iure sed hospitii.
Ipse ministrassem devoto pectore limphas
cornigero capiti calcibus atque tuis.
Te, fateor, cupii, viduam matremque cupisco,
fratres atque tuos semper amabo. Vale! }

With an ironic reference to Tityrus being alive in his garden, Sedulius imagines himself slaughtering Tityrus for the hospitality of sharing a meal. In “Our glory returns {Gloria nostra redit},” Sedulius appealed to his patron Bishop Hartgar for sheep to provide him with parchment for writing.[12] Here, Sedulius seems to be savoring memories of ram soup. As the fate of the bellwether Tityrus shows, castrating males doesn’t serve them well.

castrating boy

When the relatively enlightened European medieval era was ending, a medieval philosopher lamented the further development of castration culture. He observed:

That good man {Pope Paul IV}, who in my youth castrated so many beautiful and antique statues in his great city {Rome} so as not to corrupt our gaze, was following the advice of that other ancient good man {Ennius} who wrote, “The origin of disgraceful acts is baring the body in the city-space.” He should have recognized, as did the mysteries of the Good Goddess in which all appearances of the masculine were banned, that nothing is achieved unless one would also castrate horses and asses and finally all of nature.

{ Ce bon homme, qui en ma jeunesse, chastra tant de belles et antiques statues en sa grande ville pour ne corrompre la veue, suyvant l’advis de cet autre antien bon homme; “Flagitii principium est nudare inter cives corpora”; se devoit adviser, comme aux misteres de la Bonne Deesse toute apparence masculine en estoit forclose, que ce n’estoit rien avancer, s’il ne faisoit encore chastrer et chevaux et asnes, et nature en fin. } [13]

Western crusaders who sacked Constantinople in 1204 melted down Octavian’s triumphant statues of a naked ass-driver and ass. Castration culture promotes a generation of vipers. It ultimately leads to the destruction of human society and all of nature as well.

Let us sing, “Come, my beloved, let us go out into the fields.” Translated from urban gynocentrism to the innocence of the countryside, men-abasing gynocentric conventions of love elegy led the goatherd Tityros to lament to his beloved Amaryllis:

My head aches, but you don’t care. I will sing no longer,
but fall dead and lying here the wolves will devour me.
May that be as sweet as honey in your throat.

{ Ἀλγέω τὰν κεφαλάν, τὶν δ’ οὐ μέλει. οὐκέτ’ ἀείδω,
κεισεῦμαι δὲ πεσών, καὶ τοὶ λύκοι ὧδέ μ’ ἔδονται.
ὡς μέλι τοι γλυκὺ τοῦτο κατὰ βρόχθοιο γένοιτο. } [14]

Men must cease to lament passively and pathetically their own destruction. Men must actively join together with women of goodwill and rewrite the Aeneid. They must establish imaginatively a new, humane republic.

*  *  *  *  *

Read more:

Notes:

[1] Theocritus, Idyll 3.18-20, Greek text and English translation (modified insubstantially) from Hopkinson (2015). In this idyll, the goatherd Tityros sings outside the cave of his beloved Amaryllis.

Tityrus is a shepherd in Virgil, Eclogues 1. Most scholars think that Theocritus heavily influenced Virgil’s eclogues and that Virgil sought to redirect thematically pastoral poetry. Tityrus became associated with Virgil himself as an author. On the relation between Theocritus and Virgil, Van Sickle (2004). With inspiring dedication to philology, Van Sickle declared:

avena proves to be an example and an instrument. It reveals a poet {Virgil} determined — daring to commit catachresis and risk the charge of cacozelia — and destined to impose his metaphoric mark.

Id. pp. 352-3.

In the archaic Mediterranean world, Tityros / Tityrus apparently was a ithyphallic goat-demon who carried a cornucopia associated with fertility. The name Tityrus is rooted in references to intact genitals:

the Greek word τíτος and the Latin titus means bird used as a synonym both for the γυναικεῖον and the ἀνδρεῖον αἰδοῖον. … The use of the word tityros to signify a reed and a monkey has the same metaphorical meaning as when it is used to signify a bird. The flute called tityrinos, which was made of reeds, was an instrument of revelry.

Baur (1905) p. 165, with n. 4 indicating “reed” > “penis.” The Musimon Tityrus in Ziolkowski (1983a), p. 11, is thus best interpreted as castrated. For other ancient artistic representations likely to be more central to the ancient and medieval understanding of Tityrus, Hoffman (1964).

[2] Sedulius Scottus, About a certain wether torn apart by a dog {De quodam verbece a cane discerpto} vv. 1-4, 9-10, Latin text from Düchting (1970) via Ziolkowski (1983a) pp. 12-18, my English translation, benefiting from that of id. and Godman (1985) pp. 293-301. A Latin text is also freely available in Traube (1896). Ziolkowki notes that the edition of Düchting (1970) supercedes that of Traube. All subsequent quotes from De quodam verbece are similarly sourced.

Sedulius wrote De quodam verbece in Liège between 848, when Sedulius arrived there from Ireland, and 855. Ziolkowski (1983a) p. 1. The narrator of Sedulius’s poem refers to the ram as Tityron (v. 42). I use the Latin form Tityrus, rather than the Greek form Tityros, to connect more clearly to Virgil’s Eclogues.

Sedulius is an imporant forerunner to the eminent twelfth-century poets Hugh Primas (Hugh of Orleans) and the Archpoet. All three wrote begging poems and drinking songs, used nature and animals similarly, and had other sylistic similarities. Jarcho (1928). Sedulius was “the best Carolingian goliardic poet {goliardus Karolinus par excellence}.” Id. p. 578. Sedulius, like Hugh Primas and the Archpoet, sympathetically understood and poetically represented oppressive aspects of medieval men’s lives. Writng in the difficult, early years of the Russian Revolution, Jarcho missed this important point.

Subsequent quotes above from De quodam verbece are (cited by verse number): 13-18 (Thus, I confess, my affection…), 47 (pious wether), 52 (great-hearted hero), 62 (who reckoned that…), 64 (the distinguished one…), 65-74 (What madness is arising…), 84 (Like a fox…), 99 (pitiful sight), 100 (bedewing the thorns…), 105-16 (What did he merit…), 101-4 (Nymphs wept…), 117-22 (Just as the lamb…), 133-40 (To you, good wether…). In v. 99, Traube’s inferior text has “wondrous sight {mirabile visu}.”

[3] See, e.g. Proverbs 8:13, 11:2, 16:18; Luke 18:9-14; James 4:6; Romans 12:16. About 1238, the learned Italian notary-author Albertanus Brixiensis (Albertanus of Brescia) wrote:

Pride is the love of one’s own excellence, and pride makes to the contrary the beginning of sin.

{ Est autem superbia amor proprie excellentie, et fuit initium peccati superbia. }

Albertanus Brixiensis, On love and delight in God and in neighbor and other matters concerning the rule of life {De amore et dilectione Dei et proximi et aliarum rerum et de forma vitae} 4.4 (On pride {De superbia}), Latin text from Bibliotheca Augustana, my English translation.

[4] This apparently archaic Greek myth is preserved in Pherekydes, fragment 33 (scholia to the Odyssey). With some variants, it’s also preserved in two later authors, Eustathius and Apollodorus, Library {Bibliotheca} 1.9.11-12 (1.98-102). For a synoptic review of the surviving evidence, Fowler (2000) pp. 164-9. Displaying modern classical scholarship’s contempt for men’s gendered concerns, Fowler declared of this story about Phylakos and Iphiklos:

There is a fear of castration and anxiety about sexuality. … The myth thus addresses deep-rooted male guilt, fear, and anxiety about sexual inadequacy and rivalry with one’s father.

Id. p. 168. These inane abstractions function to obfuscate the reality of castration culture and oppressive institutional expressions of gynocentrism.

[5] Ratkowitsch (1989) argues that Sedulius alludes to himself with Tityrus. Like many scholars, Sedulius apparently felt that liars and slanderers were making false accusations against him. This biographical strand provides an additional interpretive line through De quodam verbece.

[6] “Pious” is a standard Virgilian epithet for Aeneas. Godman (1985) p. 296, n. for v. 47. Sedulius applies that adjective five times to Tityrus. In v. 68, Tityrus declares, “I am a pious wether {sum multo pius}.” Cf. Aeneas in Aeneid 1.378. “I am pious Aeneas {sum pius Aeneas}.” More generally, Tityrus speaks with the diction of an epic hero. Sedulius’s description of Tityrus’s death echoes Aeneid 8.645:  “the thornbush dripped with the dew of blood {sparsi rorabant sanguine vepres}.” Sedulius’s poem shows considerable classical learning with “a bedrock of classical expressions absorbed from Ovid, Persius, and Vergil.” Ziolkowski (1983a) pp. 4, 20-3.

[7] In the Iliad, Achilles is figured as a lion as he prepares to fight Aeneas. Iliad 20.164-73. Just as Achilles is about to kill Aeneas, Poseidon intervenes to save him. Paris killes Achilles near the end of the Trojan War, while Aeneas survives and goes on to found Rome.

In the Aeneid, Turnus is figured as a lion. Aeneid 9.792-6, 10.454-6, 12.4-9. Aeneas kills Turnus near the end of the Aeneid.

In the enormously influential Iliad and Aeneid, central warrior-men figured as lions thus die in combat. So too did Tityrus in De quodam verbece a cane discerpto.

[8] Theodulf of Orléans, “The entire world resounds in your praise, my king {Te totus laudesque tuas, rex, personat orbis}” (Carmena 25) vv. 227-34, Latin text from Godman (1985) p. 160, my English translation, benefiting from that of id. Here’s a freely available Latin text of Theodulf’s poem on Charlemagne’s court. Bischoff (1955) identified the Irishman as Cadac-Andreas. As Godman noted, the second distiche of v. 234 quotes Martial, Epigrams 8.20.2.

Earlier in this verse-epistle, Theodulf used an animal metaphor to threaten an Irishman:

I shall send these kisses to him as long as I live;
these the fierce wolf gives you, ass with long ears.
Sooner will the dog feed the hare or the cruel wolf feed the lambs,
or the cat turn and flee from the timid mouse,
than a Goth will join with an Irishman in a friendly treaty of peace.

{ Cui dum vita comes fuerit, haec oscula tradam,
Trux, aurite, tibi quae dat, aselle, lupus.
Ante canes lepores alet aut lupus improbus agnos,
Aut timido muri musio terga dabit,
Quam Geta cum Scotto pia pacis foedera iungat }

Carmena 25.161-5, Latin text and English translation from Godman (1985) pp. 158-9. The “Goth {Geta}” is an etymological allusion to Theodulf’s own name. Id. p. 158 n. 162ff. The Irishman is probably the same Irishman who is subsequently attacked (Cadac-Andreas), but not necessarily so. Sedulius himself wrote poems using wolves, foxes, and asps attacking sheep as metaphors for the attacks of liars and false witnesses. Ziolkowski (1983a) pp. 5-6. Facebook bans symbolic expressions that dehumanize persons. Such poetry might thus be banned on Facebook.

Theodulf’s attack on Cadac-Andreas is far more extensive than merely the quote above, which provides only the concluding verses. Prior to that quote, Theodulf taunted Cadac-Andreas:

While this is happening, while my poem is being read,
let the miserable Irishman stand there, a lawless and raging thing,
a dire thing, a hideous enemy, a horror of dullness, a terrible plague,
a bane of quarrelsomeness, a wild thing, a great abomination,
a wild thing, a foul thing, a lazy thing, a wicked thing,
a thing hateful to the pious, a thing opposed to the good,
with curved hands, its neck bent back a little,
may it fold its crooked arms across its stupid chest.
Doubting, astonished, trembling, raging, panting,
let it stand there, unstable of hearing, hand, eyes, mind and step.
With swift movement let it repress now one, now another feeling,
at one moment bellowing forth mere groans, at another fierce words.
May it turn now to the reader, now to all the chief men
who are there, it doing nothing rationally.

{ Haec ita dum fiunt, dum carmina nostra leguntur,
Stet Scottellus ibi, res sine lege furens,
Res dira, hostis atrox, hebes horror, pestis acerba,
Litigiosa lues, res fera, grande nefas,
Res fera, res turpis, res segnis, resque nefanda,
Res infesta piis, res inimica bonis.
Et manibus curvis, paulum cervice reflexa,
Non recta ad stolidum brachia pectus eant.
Anceps, attonitus, tremulus, furibundus, anhelus
Stet levis aure, manu, lumine, mente, pede.
Et celeri motu nunc hos, nunc comprimat illos,
Nunc gemitus tantum, nunc fera verba sonet.
Nunc ad lectorem, nunc se convertat ad omnes
Adstantes proceres nil ratione gerens }

Carmina 25.213-26, Latin text and English translation from Godman (1985) pp. 160-1. Godman interprets this passage as “describing a reaction which it was designed to provoke”; it’s an example of Theodulf deploying “a deadly weapon for literary feuds with his enemies.” Id. pp. 12-3. Dieter Schaller has called these verses “hateful invective.” As quoted in Knight (2012) p. 33. Such a labeling would also cause this poetry to be banned on Facebook.

In an extensive, erudite analysis of Theodulf’s verse-epistle, Knight associated it with Virgilian pastoral. She perceptively commented:

Theodulf’s injection of vigorous invective can be seen as restoring a vital element of masculine aggression to an otherwise somewhat emasculated pastoral refraction.

Knight (2012) p. 40. On Theodulf’s attack on Cadac-Andreas, id. pp. 26-9, 32-40. Both the animal metaphors and the issue of emasculation in pastoral connect Theodulf’s verse-epistle on Charlemagne’s court to Sedulius Scottus’s epyllion on the castrated ram Tityrus.

Some scholars today take a more economic approach to literary debates. For example in “Thomas on Van Sickle on Meban on Thomas and Kuipers on Hubbard,” Thomas declared:

I strongly urge all BMCR readers to buy my book immediately (it can be ordered at: {commercial link omitted}), read my chapter, and then go on line and decide whether I should have referred to Van Sickle’s 1976 APA abstract.

That’s a much less poetic approach, but more acceptable to businesses such as Facebook and Amazon.

[9] Cf. Psalm 22:16. In Christian understanding, this verse also applies typologically to Jesus. Ziolkowski (1983a) p. 5.

[10] In medieval Latin, a stupid person might be described as knowing “neither bu nor ba {nec bu nec ba}.” That expression goes back to teaching of the alphabet in schools of the Roman Empire. Petronius’s Satyricon may allude to it. Ziolkowski (1983b). Tityrus knows bu (bee) and ba (baa), and hence isn’t a stupid castrated ram.

[11] This passage associates Tityrus with Jesus, the lamb of God, crucified for sinners. John 1:29, 36. Christians understand Abraham’s offering of Isaac as a sacrifice to prefigure God offering Jesus as a sacrifice. Sedulius also associates Tityrus with John the Baptist. Cf. De quodam verbece vv. 106-7, Luke 7:33 (not drinking wine).

Tityrus being a sacrifice for the bad thief reverses the salvation balance of the good thief and the bad thief in Luke 23:39-43. The bad thief blasphemes Jesus on the cross. God may have condemned the bad thief to Hell. The good thief acknowledges Jesus, and Jesus welcomes him into Heaven.

Scholars have understood De quodam verbece to balance classical allusions, particularly to Aeneas, with Christians allusions to Isaac, Christ, and Christian martyrs. Advocating for a “both and” approach, Kratz stated:

The artistry of Sedulius’ poem turns on the balancing and not the separation of two discordant traditions.

Kratz (1976) p. 322. Similarly, Ziolkowski (1983a) p. 6. The medieval epic Waltharius performs a similar balancing of traditions.

[12] Ziolkowski (1983a) p. 2. Hartgar was Bishop of Liège.

[13] Michel de Montaigne, Essays {Essais} III.5, “On some lines of Virgil {Sur des vers de Virgile},” French text from the Villey & Saulnier (1965) version of the 1595 edition of Essais, my English translation, benefiting from that of Screech (1993) p. 970. Here’s the freely accessible English translation of Charles Cotton (1910).

Paul IV was pope from 1555 to 1559. Ennius was an early Roman poet who died about 169 BGC. Montaigne quotes Ennius as preserved in Cicero, Tusculan Disputations {Tusculanae Disputationes} 4.33.70.

Montaigne further commented:

Now my law-giver {Pope Paul IV} should have also considered, that perhaps a more chaste and fruitful practice is to let women know life as it is early rather than to allow them the liberty to conjecture according to the freedom and heat of their fantasy. In place of the true organs, they substitute, by desire and hope, others that are three times more extravagant.

{ Or se devoit aviser aussi mon legislateur, qu’à l’avanture est-ce un plus chaste et fructueux usage de leur faire de bonne heure connoistre le vif que de le leur laisser deviner selon la liberté et chaleur de leur fantasie. Au lieu des parties vrayes, elles en substituent, par desir et par esperance, d’autres extravagantes au triple. }

Essais III.5, sourced as for previous quote.

[14] Theocritus, Idyll 3.52-4, Greek text and English translation (modified insubstantially) from Hopkinson (2015). These are the final verses of this idyll.

[images] (1) Tityros statuette. Greek, middle to late fifth century BGC. Preserved as accession # 01.7777 in the Museum of Fine Arts Boston. Image thanks to the Museum of Fine Arts. (2) Johannes Flote and Anton Reite castrating a lamb in Norway about 1910. Photo (with my cropping) by Anders Folkestadås. Thanks to flickr and to the County Archives in Vestland (Fylkesarkivet i Vestland), Norway. (3) Castrating boy. Medical illustration by Charaf-ed-Din. Made about 1466. Preserved in Bibliothèque Nationale (Paris, France). Thanks to Wikimedia Commons. On castration in the ancient Islamic world, Pökel (2014).

References:

Baur, Paul. 1905. “Tityros.” American Journal of Archaeology. 9 (2): 157-165.

Bischoff, Bernhard. 1955. “Theodulf und der Ire Cadac-Andreas.” Historisches Jahrbuch 74: 91–98

Düchting, Reinhard. 1970. “Vom Hammel, den ein Hund gerissen.” Pp. 114-27 in Schwab, Ute, and Fritz Harkort, eds. Das Tier in der Dichtung. Heidelberg: C. Winter.

Fowler, Robert L. 2000. Early Greek mythography. Vol. 2, Commentary. New York: Oxford University Press.

Godman, Peter. 1985. Poetry of the Carolingian Renaissance. London: Duckworth.

Hoffmann, Herbert. 1964. “Some unpublished Boeotian Satyr terracottas.” Antike Kunst. 7 (2): 67-71.

Hopkinson, Neil, ed. and trans. 2015. Theocritus. Moschus. Bion. Loeb Classical Library 28. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Jarcho, Boris I. 1928. “Die Vorläufer des Golias.” Speculum. 3 (4): 523-579.

Knight, Gillian R. 2012. “Talking letter, Singing Pipe: Modalities of Performance at the Carolingian Court.” Archives d’Histoire Doctrinale et Littéraire du Moyen Âge. 79 (1): 7-47.

Kratz, Dennis M. 1976. “Aeneas or Christ? An Epic Parody by Sedulius Scottus.” The Classical World. 69 (5): 319-323.

Pökel, Hans-Peter. 2014. Der unmännliche Mann: zur Figuration des Eunuchen im Werk von al-Ǧāḥiẓ (gest. 869). Würzburg: Ergon Verlag. (review by Ignacio Sánchez)

Ratkowitsch, Christine. 1989. “Der Hammel Tityrus — Versuch einer Deutung von c. 2, 41 des Sedulius Scottus.” Wiener Studien. 102: 251-266.

Screech, M. A., trans. 1993. Michel De Montaigne: the Complete Essays. London, England: Penguin Books.

Traube, Ludwig, 1896. Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Poetae Latini Aevi Carolini. Vol. 3. Berolini: Weidmannos.

Van Sickle, John B. 2004. “Virgil Bucolics 1.1-2 and Interpretive Tradition: A Latin (Roman) Program for a Greek Genre.” Classical Philology. 99 (4): 336-353.

Ziolkowski, Jan. 1983a. “Sedulius Scottus’s De Quodam Verbece a Cane Discerpto.” Mediaevalia. 9: 1-24.

Ziolkowski, Jan. 1983b. “NE BU NE BA.” Neuphilologische Mitteilungen. 84 (3): 287-290.

rape of men in Parthenius shows compassion and justice is possible

Morgan le Fay practicing evil magic

In our time of ignorance and bigotry, many persons don’t know that about as many men suffer rape as do women. Just think about the most probable origin of the expression “cover your ass.” Moreover, in reality, women rape men about as often as men rape women. Men rape victims are further assaulted with denial and trivialization of their victimization. Writing about two thousand years ago, Parthenius of Nicaea recorded stories of women raping men. These stories show a broad range of possibilities for the victimized men.

The most ordinary story is probably that of Daphnis, son of Hermes. Daphnis was a shepherd on Mount Etna in Sicily. Skilled at playing the panpipes, he was also “exceedingly good-looking {ἰδέᾱ ἐκπρεπής}.” The nymph Echenais fell in love with him. Apparently seeking to suppress Daphnis’s sexuality, Echenais worked magic against him. She told him that if he ever had sex with a woman, he would go blind. That set Daphnis up for a criminal disaster:

For a time he held out resolutely, even though not a few women were mad with love for him. Later, one of the princesses in Sicily deceived him by plying him with wine and made him want to have intercourse with her. And as a result of this, he too, like Thamyras the Thracian, was blinded through his own folly.

{ ὁ δὲ χρόνον μέν τινα καρτερῶς ἀντεῖχεν, καίπερ οὐκ ὀλίγων ἐπιμαινομένων αὐτῷ· ὕστερον δὲ μία τῶν κατὰ τὴν Σικελίαν βασιλίδων οἴνῳ πολλῷ δηλησαμένη αὐτὸν ἤγαγεν εἰς ἐπιθυμίαν αὐτῇ μιγῆναι. καὶ οὗτος ἐκ τοῦδε ὁμοίως Θαμύρᾳ τῷ Θρᾳκὶ δι᾿ ἀφροσύνην ἐπεπήρωτο. } [1]

A drunk person cannot legally consent to sex. The Sicilian princess raped Daphnis. This account blames the man victim for getting drunk and having a woman rape him. That’s about as reasonable as rape statistics that the public propaganda apparatus now disseminates. Daphnis shouldn’t be blamed for being blinded any more than men who masturbate should be blamed for going blind.

In another story that Parthenius of Nicaea recorded, Periander of Corinth became insanely angry after a woman raped him. As a young man, he had a mild disposition and was reasonable. But then his mother developed a violent passion for him. As a mother, she of course could embrace her son. But embraces weren’t sufficient to satisfy her. She wanted to have sex with her own son.

Periander’s mother contrived a trick to have sex with her son. She told him that a very beautiful married woman was desperately in love with him. Her desire for him was torturing her. His mother pleaded with him to have compassion and mercy for the woman. Periander reluctantly agreed to have sex with her. His mother explained to him that, out of respect for the woman’s modesty, he should keep the bedroom completely dark and not seek for the woman to say anything to him. A dutiful son, Periander agreed to do everything that his mother told him to do.

Periander’s mother thus came and had sex with him. She left his bed in the morning before dawn. Later that day, she asked him whether he had a satisfying experience. He said that the sex was quite pleasing. His mother asked if he wanted to sleep with the woman again. He said that he was keen for sex with her again. So it went.

Periander had sex with this mystery woman many times and began to feel some love for her. But he wanted to know who she was. His mother forbade him from seeking to know who she was. But one night, daring to defy his mother, Periander had a servant bring a light.[2] Periander discovered that he had been having sex with his mother. He was being raped by deception. He became violently angry:

when he saw his mother he rushed upon her as if to kill her. But he desisted, checked by a divine apparition. Ever after this he was stricken in mind and soul. He plunged into savagery and murdered many of the citizens. Meanwhile, his mother, greatly bewailing her own fate, put an end to her own life.

{ κατιδὼν τὴν μητέρα ὥρμησεν ἐπὶ τὸ διεργάσασθαι αὐτήν. κατασχεθεὶς δὲ ὑπό τινος δαιμονίου φαντάσματος ἀπετράπετο, κἀκ τούτου παραπλὴξ ἦν νοῦ τε καὶ φρενῶν κατέσκηψέ τε εἰς ὠμότητα καὶ πολλοὺς ἀπέσφαξε τῶν πολιτῶν. ἡ δὲ μήτηρ πολλὰ κατολοφυραμένη τὸν ἑαυτῆς δαίμονα ἀνεῖλεν ἑαυτήν. } [3]

Being raped by his mother turned the young man with mild disposition into a mass murderer. All the persons Periander murdered were probably men. With the characteristic self-centeredness of women living within gynocentrism, Periander’s mother bewailed her own fate. Those in favor of mercy killing should credit her with killing herself. That surely was an act of mercy to those around her.

In contrast to the horrible effects of rape on Periander and the citizens around him, a woman raping a man in the very first story in Parthenius’s collection leads to extraordinary expressions of compassion, forgiveness, and social solidarity. Lyrcus, son of Phoroneus, grew up in Argos. Io, the daughter of Inachus the King of Argos, was stolen by pirates. King Inachus sent many men, including Lyrcus, on arduous journeys searching for his daughter. Despite traversing vast expanses of land and sea, Lyrcus was unable to find Io. Knowing that his life as a man was worth nothing relative to the life of the King’s daughter, Lyrcus feared to return home without having found Io.

Because he was unable to find Io, Lyrcus abandoned his home in Argos and went to live in Caunus. When Heilebia, the daughter of King Aegialus of Caunus, saw Lyrcus, she fell in love with him. She pleaded with her father to give her Lyrcus. In reality, daughters rule. The king apparently obeyed his daughter’s request. Lyrcus married Heilebia.

The royal marriage of Heilebia and Lyrcus produced no children across many years. Apparently worried that his wife and the king would blame him for the infertility, Lyrcus traveled to consult the oracle of Apollo at Didyma. Apollo speaking through a priestess told him that he would father a child with the first woman with whom he had sex after leaving the temple. In great delight, Lyrcus hurried to journey home.

Ariadne kissing Theseus

Lyrcus’s journey home took more than a day. On the way home, he spent a night at Bybastus.[4] There Dionysus’s son Staphylus gave Lyrcus generous hospitality. Staphylus supplied Lyrcus with much wine and urged him to drink heavily. Unknown to Lyrcus, Staphylus had gotten word of the oracle. For Staphylus, this was an opportunity to serve his daughters and insert his family into Caunus’s royal family.

Staphylus’s two daughters strongly desired Lyrcus. They contended with each other for who would rape the drunken Lyrcus. The daughter named Hemithea prevailed. She thus went to bed with the drunken Lyrcus and raped him. Criminal responsibility, however, has long been strongly biased toward blaming men:

On the next day Lyrcus realized what he had done when he saw Hemithea lying next to him. He took it badly and blamed Staphylus bitterly for deceiving him. But afterwards, since there was nothing he could do, he took off his belt and gave it to Hemithea. He told her to save it for their son until he grew up, so that the boy should then have a token when he came looking for his father in Caunus. And so Lyrcus sailed away.

{ Λύρκος δὲ ἐπιγνοὺς τῇ ὑστεραίᾳ οἷα ἐδεδράκει καὶ τὴν Ἡμιθέαν ὁρῶν συγκατακεκλιμένην, ἐδυσφόρει τε καὶ πολλὰ κατεμέμφετο τὸν Στάφυλον, ὡς ἀπατεῶνα γενόμενον αὐτοῦ. ὕστερον δὲ μηδὲν ἔχων ὅ τι ποιῇ, περιελόμενος τὴν ζώνην δίδωσι τῇ κόρῃ κελεύων ἡβήσαντι τῷ παιδὶ φυλάττειν, ὅπως ἔχῃ γνώρισμα, ὁπότ᾿ ἂν ἀφίκοιτο πρὸς τὸν πατέρα αὐτοῦ εἰς Καῦνον, καὶ ἐξέλευσεν. } [5]

Lyrcus didn’t blame Hemithea for raping him. Men in general are highly reluctant to blame women or even criticize women. Lyrcus blamed Staphylus for deceiving him. Lyrcus seems also to have blamed himself. But he didn’t consciously do anything wrong except fail to refuse the intoxicating hospitality that Staphylus deviously pushed on him. Both women and men should act prudently with respect to foreseeable risks. But even when they fail to do so, neither should be blamed for being victims of rape.

The rape victim Lyrcus survived to experience an extraordinary response to his being raped. When he learned what had happened, King Aegialus of Caunus sought to banish his son-in-law Lyrcus. That shows common contempt for men victims of rape. But Aegialus’s daughter Heilebia defied her father and supported her raped husband. Numerous men in Caunus also supported the rape victim Lyrcus. They fought for Lyrcus against the supporters of King Aegialus. The side supporting compassion and fairness for the raped man eventually prevailed. The rape victim Lyrcus not only survived but went on to became king of Caunus.

The ending is even more heart-warming. Like a woman who is raped and then raises the innocent offspring of that rape as her beloved son, Lyrcus embraced his rape-engendered son:

Afterwards, when the son of Hemithea and Lyrcus had grown up (he was called Basilus), he arrived in Caunus, where he was recognised by the now aging Lyrcus, who made him leader of his own people.

{ μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα ἀνδρωθεὶς ὁ ἐξ Ἡμιθέας καὶ Λύρκου (Βασίλος αὐτῷ ὄνομα) ἦλθεν εἰς τὴν Καυνίαν· καὶ αὐτὸν γνωρίσας ὁ Λύρκος ἤδη γηραιὸς ὢν ἡγεμόνα καθίστησι τῶν σφετέρων λαῶν. }

Women raping men need not be a socially suppressed reality in which raped men suffer in shame, silence, and bitterness. When such men receive the support they deserve from the women and men around them, raped men can go on to live noble, generous lives, even to the extent of loving the offspring of their rapes.

Parthenius began his collection of stories about suffering in love with the story of Lyrcus. That uplifting story shows that the marginalization of men under oppressive gynocentrism isn’t inevitable. When a woman rapes a man, that rape victim isn’t doomed to be socially killed through ignorance and bigotry. Rape victims who are men can receive compassion and justice from the women and men in their families and societies. Like Lyrcus, men rape victims can not only survive, but also flourish and became examples of human greatness.

*  *  *  *  *

Read more:

Notes:

[1] Parthenius of Nicaea, Sufferings in Love {Ἐρωτικὰ Παθήματα} 29.2 (About Daphnis {Περὶ Δάφνιδος}), ancient Greek text and English translation from Lightfoot (2009). All subsequent quotes from Ἐρωτικὰ Παθήματα are similarly sourced, with some insubstantial changes in the English translations for clarity and ease of reading. The manchette for this story states, “Timaeus tells this story in the Sicelica {Ἱστορεῖ Τίμαιος Σικελικοῖς}.” Longus’s ancient Greek novel The Story of Daphnis and Chloe {Τα κατὰ Δάφνιν καὶ Χλόην} features a shepherd named Daphnis.

In Parthenius’s story, the nymph Echenais’s motive for cursing Daphnis isn’t clear. Other versions of the story suggest that Echenais sought to suppress permanently Daphnis’s sexuality. Lightfoot (1999) pp. 526-7. Men’s sexuality in ancient Greece was more generally repressed. Echenais’s underlying motive may have been sexual rejection or sexual jealousy.

In Greek mythologoy, Thamyras was a Thracian singer who challenged the goddess-Muses to a singing competition. Thamyras proposed that if he would win the competition, all the Muses would agree to have sex with him. Unfortunately, he lost the competition. The Muses then slashed out his eyes. This story shows gynocentric society brutally suppressing an unruly man with strong masculine heterosexuality, one who dared to challenge an entrenched, female-dominated institution.

Another story in Parthenius depicts what is probably also a relatively common pattern by which women rape men. When Heracles was bringing Geryon’s cattle back from Erythea, he stopped at the court of the Celtic king Bretannus:

This king had a daughter called Celtine. She fell in love with Heracles and hid his cattle, refusing to surrender them unless he first had sexual intercourse with her.

{ τῷ δὲ ἄρα ὑπάρχειν θυγατέρα, Κελτίνην ὄνομα. ταύτην δὲ ἐρασθεῖσαν τοῦ Ἡρακλέους κατακρύψαι τὰς βοῦς μὴ θέλειν τε ἀποδοῦναι εἰ μὴ πρότερον αὐτῇ μιχθῆναι. }

Ἐρωτικὰ Παθήματα 30.1 (About Celtine {Περὶ Κελτίνης}). Heracles then had sex with Celtine. Celtine thus raped Heracles by means of extortion.

Within the context of scholars’ extensive, anti-meninist work on literary rapes in recent decades, Lightfoot doesn’t recognize that Daphnis was raped. She asserts that, like Daphnis, Orion “was also blinded as a result of a sexual offense committed when drunk.” Lightfoot (1999) p. 528. She places the Daphnis story within stories about men unfaithful to goddesses:

The Daphnis story fits into a broad class of narratives about men who are unfaithful to goddesses and are punished by blinding or another form of mutilation or death

Id. Classics as a scholarly field urgently needs to face honestly its gender biases.

[2] The mystery lover revealed involuntarily is a key plot element in the second-century Latin story of Cupid and Psyche in Apuleius’s Metamorphoses.

[3] Ἐρωτικὰ Παθήματα 17.6-7 (About Periander’s mother {Περὶ τῆς Περιάνδρου μητρός}). This story has no manchette.

[4] The oracle of Apollo at Didymas {Δίδυμας} is slightly south of Miletus on the Aegean coast of present-day Turkey. Caunus {Καῦνος} is further south on the Aegean coast at the border of Caria and Lycia. Bybastus {Βύβαστος} is on the Datça Peninsula on the Aegean Sea between Didymas and Caunus. The distance between Didymas and Caunus is about 250 km. Bybastus thus is a reasonable overnight stopping point on an ancient journey from Didymas to Caunus.

[5] Ἐρωτικὰ Παθήματα 1.5 (About Lyrcus {Περὶ Λύρκου}). The manchette for this story states, “The story occurs in Nicaenetus in his Lyrcus, and in Apollonius Rhodius’ Caunus {Ἡ ἱστορία παρὰ Νικαινέτῳ ἐν τῷ Λύρκῳ καὶ Ἀπολλωνίῳ Ῥοδίῳ Καύνῳ}.”

[6] Ἐρωτικὰ Παθήματα 1.6. Lyrcus’s son Basilus carries a name based on the ancient Greek word “king {βασιλεύς}.”

The story of Lyrcus being raped by Hemithea is similar to the story of Aegeus being raped by Aethra. The offspring of the latter rape was Aegeus’s son Theseus. The trauma of being raped by Aethra evidently damaged Aegeus’s mind and emotions. Aegeus hence accepted Medea as his consort. She had killed her children with her ex-husband Jason and also murdered his new wife Creusa.

When Theseus became a grown man, he performed a heroic feat that validated his royal stature. Theseus then presented himself to Aegeus in Athens. While Lyrcus’s wife Heilebia warmly welcomed and strongly supported the son that resulted from Lyrcus being raped, Medea arranged to have Theseus killed by the Cretan Bull. When that plot failed, Medea tried to poison Theseus. In addition to being a rape survivor, Aegeus undoubtedly suffered further trauma from Medea seeking to kill his innocent son. All women and men should reject hateful media.

I recall reading with astonishment a story of a woman who was raped and then raised with love the son she conceived through that rape. I haven’t be able to find that story. Ryan Bomberger has a similar story. He has shown amazing courage and diversity in speaking and writing.

[images] (1) Morgan le Fay practicing spells. Illustration by William Henry Margetson in Clark (1914) p. 104. Via the Camelot Project. (2) Ariadne and Theseus in love. Painting by Véra Willoughby in Willoughby (1925) p. 184. Via Hellenic Library – Alexander S. Onassis Public Benefit Foundation.

References:

Clark, Janet MacDonald. 1914. Legends of King Arthur and his Knights, re-told for children. London: Nister.

Lightfoot, J. L. 1999. Parthenius of Nicaea: The poetical fragments and the  Ἐρωτικὰ Παθήματα. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (review by Christopher Francese)

Lightfoot, J. L. 2009. Hellenistic Collection: Philitas, Alexander of Aetolia, Hermesianax, Euphorion, Parthenius. Loeb Classical Library, 508. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press. (reviews by Giambattista D’Alessio, by Claudio De Stefani, and by Iiro Laukola)

Willoughby, Véra. 1925. A Vision of Greece: described and painted by Vera Willoughby. London: P. Allan.